❪ march event log: taken! ❫

[natha]

CW: This event log will contain descriptions and threads involving extreme violence, torture, and possible death. While we do not intend to push beyond any boundaries indicated in sign ups, players may opt out of any aspect of their group write-ups that they find uncomfortable. Characters who have been assigned a role for this month's plot will find specific information about their groups and locations in headers below. We encourage that you thread among your groups within these headers, and as a reminder, only characters with plot roles may participate in rescue threads or hostage situations. All characters, however, are welcome to toplevel and tag in this log. To receive special commendation and be recognized as heroes in a future post, hostages and rescuers must submit a short summary of their event participation HERE by March 24th. OVERVIEW     While the riots and fanatic celebrating in Olympia and Wyver have subsided, neither city is naive enough to believe that life has yet returned to normal. There remains a tension among the citizens: not the slow simmer waiting to boil over that had preceded the aforementioned events, but an apprehension and fear that, despite the Royal Guard and Knightryder’s best efforts, the worst is yet to come. In Olympia, as night falls on the 18th, their fears are proven true. With their previous attempts at revolution through the riots having fallen short, the anti-Simwe radicals in Olympia carry out a more covert operation in their efforts to seize power. Having compiled a list of persons of interest, observed them, gathered intel and taken efforts to ensure that their movements will not be tracked, the radicals strike on the night of the 18th. The entire operation is discrete, and one by one people go missing from streets, homes, and businesses. News that the kidnappings were a large scale operation doesn’t break in Olympia until the following day, but whispers have already travelled to a similar group of radicals in Wyver, who, fearing what a political coup in Olympia would mean for Wyver—or, more specifically how this could affect their chances to stage their own coup should Shanrian choose to step in—launch their own gambit for power with a similar scheme in the early hours of the 19th before dawn. Many are taken straight from their homes, or on their way to work. For all their historical tension and division, Olympia and Wyver aren’t that different once the authorities become aware of what has happened. Both cities remain on the alert. In Olympia, Simwe orders immediate action from the Royal Guard, eager to win over the loyalty of her citizens by showing her commitment to freeing the hostages, while in Wyver, Shanrian is equally quick to take action with the Knightryders. The Altar of Volkkra is one of the most sacred institutions in Wyver, and the threat of the radicals drawing followers using its banner is too great to ignore. ABDUCTIONS AND THE SEARCH     1. Radical groups in both cities have decided that certain citizens of their respective cities would prove to be valuable hostages. Perhaps you've been traveling between cities. Or maybe you've drawn their attention by being outspoken, excelling at your city job, or being an active citizen with a great reputation. What were you doing before you got snatched up? Did someone attempt to stop this terrible thing from happening, to no avail? Did you put up a valiant fight? Regardless of how it happened, you will be forcibly outfitted with an accessory that renders you completely powerless. The extremists are no strangers to magic, either. 2. Those that didn't sign up can still witness characters being abducted and attempt to stop it, though in the end they'll fail to stop the radicals. Characters who either witness these kidnappings or notice the absences can spread the word via missing persons posters, making calls to action, or embarking on searches. Characters that would ICly look for hostages but did not sign-up for the event can still go investigate, but will ultimately not find any kidnappers. All characters may also conduct investigations in locations not included in the clues. 3. With key figures around the cities abducted, several shops and organizations are left stressed and short-staffed. Characters may find themselves working long hours, and can volunteer to help the Guard/Nightryders as they're stretched thin, as well as other key locations such as the Institute, the Fields of the Exalted, etc. There are also children, elderly people, and pets who have been left without care, due to their guardians being kidnapped. Everyone is asked to lend a helping hand. TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS     1. As rescues take place, extremists will be fleeing the following locations: Simwe Institute, the Sanctuary, and the Royal Guard Academy for Olympia, and a cave high on Namarak Mountain, or an island tower off the coastline for Wyver. Characters that did not sign-up can still catch and round up fleeing radicals as hostages are rescued, with additional details on what the extremists in a particular region are capable of in the group details below. 2. Hostages, both NPC and PC, will be gradually found and recovered between March 18th to the 24th. With how harrowing the experience is, rescuers and abductees alike may require medical attention and a helping hand. Perhaps you hope to support them with a shoulder to lean on, or by being there on Natha Station when any dead awake. Either way, the extremists may be defeated, but morale across both cities has taken a hit. 3. Healing doesn't always mean taking care of just the physical harm. Affected people in the cities, both PCs and NPCs, may have significant emotional scars from their experience. These are much harder to heal, and may not be going away anytime soon, but the people are doing their best to provide happy distractions to those who were taken hostage. Acts of kindness are encouraged and appreciated. Perhaps you can cook a few meals to take a burden off their shoulders, organize a fundraiser to help with relief efforts, or read a book to someone in recovery. A little bit of your time may go a long way. FINAL OOC NOTES     Once again, hostages and rescuers may find detailed info on their scenarios in subheaders below. These may also be used as top levels for each group! Additionally, all characters, including those that did not sign up, are welcome to toplevel in this log. For characters that are dying, please be sure to review the FAQ on death! We've updated it to provide more details for everyone this event. Don't forget to submit a summary of your event participation to guide our plot forward and earn influence with the NPCs! QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● lore ● map ● npcs taken ● atp/emp ● application ● rep/acp calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

Comments

Brock Rumlow | Rescuer

[ukase]

i. Pre-op - Just a Soldier

[Rumlow was watching the movements of the team as they investigated and tracked their way to the robotics lab. He covered the rear, guarding their six against any insurgence that might try to take advantage of their forward motion. He was used to working at the front, the first man in the door and one of the first with the potential to take a bullet to the face.

He worked just fine from the rear as well, his steps certain and soundless despite the fact he was wearing combat boots. He was dressed head-to-toe in black with long-sleeves and a light-weight armoured vest (thanks to his home world). He was comfortable and confident, except that he had stuffed his many pockets with whatever extra cloth that he had. Underrated stuff, especially given how ill-equipped they were.

This was a rag-tag group. Most of them barely knew each other's names. Hell, he wasn't certain if some of the people he was traveling with knew their ass from a hole in the ground, but there was a lot of muttering about magic, so that had to count for something, right? He was a soldier, and he played the part easily. He didn't take command as he otherwise might because why bother when it became obvious in the first five seconds that Carter was going to snatch that role.

He elected to keep his smart mouth nipped and tucked too. Outside of the lab with the wall of haze, Rumlow knew that this was not a great situation. They had rebreathers, but he had faced chemical warfare enough to know that when someone filled a room with clouds of shit, it was bad for everyone's health.]

I guess it's too much to ask if the lab had gas masks at this point, isn't it?

ii. Op - Not your typical hazing

[Rumlow shifted towards the front when it was clear they were going to have to make a run of the massive lab. There had been emergency maps in case of fire - thanks health and safety standards - so they knew how many doors there were. It was the haze that made him uncomfortable, especially since they had no idea what other nasty shit lurked in the clouds.

But there was no time for planning or seeking supplies. He kept his sidearm in its holster and instead had a combat knife in hand. There was less likely chance of wounding a teammate this way, and he was already putting on his rebreather. He had made an assessment of the emergency safety map and decided that the back of the room was the most likely placement of the hostages.

He shouldered passed some of the magic makers and charged into the mist, disappearing into it and immediately feeling the way it curled and hurt his skin. Once he had disappeared into it, he stormed suicidal-like towards the back, hearing the security systems come to life. Because why wouldn't they? He took a shock to the shoulder, and he ducked lower as he continued his pace as he heard the chaos of people on the moved and not all of them from behind him.

Charging, he swung his knife at a passing individual, catching flesh but likely not fatally. They had an objective: find and rescue the hostages. That's exactly what he planned on during, even with the gentle hiss of a door opening. His exposed skin felt like it was pulling apart, but he ignored that with the adrenaline from running head-long into an unknown situation.

He stormed the room with the hostage, ignoring the tables and pulling his Glock to fire at one of the fleeing insurgence with deadly accuracy but the he felt the scald of fire up his gun arm as the haze met with the trigger reaction of discharge. He hissed behind his mask and jammed the sidearm away before moving to the hostages. They had no rebreathing masks, and that was likely dangerous.

Dropping to the first, he checked for vitals first and then moved to get them up.]

One of the good guys here to get you people out of here. Let's go, there's chemical shit all over the place.

[And no, he wasn't going to give his rebreather up. He was no help to anyone if he fell. It was like those damn airplane safety guides: secure your own air supply before helping others.

He moved to help the victim up whether they wanted to go or not.]

iii. Post-op - Burning with more than adrenaline

[Rumlow had helped out who he could, had gone back more times than he should to secure the area while the air was ventilated of the skin-burning gas, and the effects on someone breathing it in was obvious. Someone else had managed to get the security system under control, and that was fine by him. He hated standing around like a sitting duck in situations like these.

So instead, he had gone back in as many times as he felt was necessary to grab more hostages, to seek out any insurgence left (there were none) and to assess what he could.

When it was over, when they had accounted for their missing people and the adrenaline had began to ebb away, the pain set in. He didn't wipe at his skin, aware it wouldn't help and thinking that a shower would be best. He waited until there was a plan for sending the hostages to Sanctuary for medical treatment.

They had all been tortured, that much was clear. He knew that game well enough. Iraq had not been a kind place either. He made certain to stay around to help transport people, ignoring his own injuries like any good commander was supposed to. Secure his the people, keep the lines open, watch the backs of those he had served the mission on.]

Too much to ask for a post-celebratory drink? Too soon?

iv. Wildcard
[Want your own starter? Feel free to write it! This can be post-mission where they all leave as well. Rumlow will come away with chemical burns, most of which are covered by his clothing, but his face will be cracked and bleeding like his skin is trying to slough off.]

jk wildcards mid-op bc timeline

[tailorable]

[ he and peggy shut down the security system, but it ain't enough. all eggsy can think of are the toxins and torture devices that he and peggy found records of during their last mission at the institute — and what that might mean for the way his skin stings. fucking fantastic.

by the time eggsy catches up with rumlow, he has brass knuckles on his left hand and nothing in his right, which remains curled into a fist, searing with pain. it's too late to warn rumlow about using firearms, as he can only imagine that lesson was already learned through pain. ]

What'd I miss?

[ how many assailants are down, have any hostages been spotted and rescued, etc. ]

[ukase]

[Rumlow had only carried forward to find and secure the hostages, seeing as he was the most active muscle of the group. Others seemed intent with their magic, and he wasn't about to stand around waiting to see if it was going to work. Doors thrown open meant that hostages were vulnerable and in need of immediate assistance.

In the time that the security system had been disarmed, he had already carried out one of the hostages to the safe zone beyond the haze and returned for whomever was left. He had stopped using his sidearm after shooting one of the assailants, but his right arm burned. There was enough adrenaline to ignore his pain, especially his more deeply cracking skin of his face and hands.

Most of the assailants were long gone, using the hostages as a way to escape. He glanced at Gary but moved to check on another barely conscious hostage.]

Tea parties and fine negotiations that's all. Hostages don't have rebreathers, so they need to get out of here. Apparently the haze isn't good for the brain.

i.

[latkje]

[ Nash has seen his share of combat, which is how he can tell that Rumlow has, too. He can hear in someone's steps if they've had training, or if they haven't had enough of it, can see how someone carries themselves when they've got a weapon to reach for. And while he's keeping his senses focused outward, for any signs of the radicals or the hostages, he notices some things about this group, too.

Rumlow hangs back, which is mostly the tack Nash chooses, too. But he does speak up when there's something he can't resist saying. Or asking, as the case may be, in a tone that's completely free of shame. ]

What's a gas mask?

[ Because, for all the search and rescue missions Nash has seen, he has never seen one of those. ]

[ukase]

[While he would never admit it, he had quickly taken note of the people on the team, those who likely would pull weight and those that were here on good intentions only. They were not a team that had trained together; this was their first operation which was inherently dangerous given the situation that they were walking into. However, they adapted. Everyone did want to help; it was a matter of how much help they could actually be in a situation that had a lot of lives in the balance, apparently even their own.

The guy next to him - Nash, he had heard - was quiet on the feet, seemed to know the way of infiltration into a dangerous situation. The guy didn't seem arrogant, wasn't running to the front for the glory. He assessed the guy as having seen his own share of shit within combat, though there had been no time for life stories.

And there was no shame in the question. The fact that this guy asked had him shrugging but focusing ahead.]

It's a mask that covers the eyes, nose and mouth generally and it has a filtration system that wouldn't allow noxious airborne elements like that reach our lungs or bug our eyes. Very useful in chemical warfare, which we seem to be in.

[Their little rebreathing units would salvage their lungs, but their eyes were vulnerable. He didn't like it.]

What does your world use against airborne poisons, if anything?

[latkje]

[ He wouldn't use the phrase "chemical warfare" either, but he can piece it together from the rest of the context. That's good— Nash doesn't mind asking questions or playing dumb, but it's better not to overdo it. And he isn't sure the latter would work on this guy, anyway. ]

It's not very common…[ He fingers his chin as his thoughts run through every group he knows that would even try using poison. There are five— no, six. Most people consider poison dishonorable. ]

But, magic, probably.

[ Every competent army has at least a skeleton mage corps, right? ]

[ukase]

[Well, maybe poison was a better term for all the shit that was thrown at people. No matter what, humanity just loved to come up with new and brutal ways to kill each other, like a rock or a stick just wasn't good enough. It seemed that things wouldn't change in this neck of the woods either, if that gaseous haze was any indication.]

Yeah well, we don't have a lot of magic where I'm from. Poison is more commonly used and the more direct approach like physical assault.

[He didn't entirely consider any weapon dishonourable per say, but he preferred some methods over others. War was war, and to the best weapon and most determined army went the winner.]

You know magic then, I take it?

[latkje]

"Know" is probably the wrong word. I can cast a few spells.

[ No point in hiding it, really. They were in this together, after all. He's no great shakes as a combat mage, but something like this haze— maybe he can clear it. The spells he can cast mostly had to do with wind. ]

[ukase]

I can't say I know the difference between that.

[He just hoped he wasn't going to have to make an old D&D reference because it had been a long time since he had had to make fun of nerds. Still, magic might change the game here, especially if they could clear or contain the gas. Lives could be saved, though who knew what conditions the prisoners were going to be in when they found them.]

Do you know any good ventilation spells? Or should we just proceed and hope for the best?

[latkje]

It's more like the spells are written into me. [ His tone is perfectly ordinary, almost conversational. Where he comes from, everyone knows how spells work, the same way everyone knows the story of the Holy City of Rupanda, or the Sindar prophets. He isn't sure he can imagine what a world without magic is like— in Nash's experience, people who think they can imagine the feel of someone else's shoes hasn't ever tried walking in them. But he can explain later. When there isn't a poisonous haze looming. ]

I can cast wind spells, sure. It'd be easier to blow it out if that wall weren't there, though.

[ Pushing the haze seems like a good plan, but where would it go? ]

[ukase]

[Rumlow looked at Nash as if he were expecting to see the guy roll up those long sleeves and reveal all these spells etched into flesh like some power tattoo. Yet, there wasn't time to question it, not on a mission where something like magic just might save them a lot of heartache.] That's probably not as hardcore as I'm imagining, but that's definitely a story I want to hear more about.

[And wind would definitely be useful here if they knew where they could blow and contain this gas. The problem was that they hadn't ascertained where the hostages were, and they had to secure them first.]

I'm thinking out a window and letting to rise above the building. Problem is I can't tell if there's just so much of it that it has no choice to fill the entire space. Some gas is heavy, and we can't risk it going down in case it harms the people out there.

[latkje]

[ Rumlow isn't too far off, actually, but Nash isn't the type to roll up his sleeves. Still, he glances at the other man, and nods. ]

If we get out of this, I'll tell you.

[ Might as well create something to look forward to. He defers on the haze, for now, trusting the other man's apparent experience with "chemical warfare." ]

Okay. [ He squints, looking for a window just in case. It's difficult to make out. ] Heat makes air rise, too, right?

[ukase]

Now I have something to look forward to.

[He had a feeling that no one was getting out of this particular mission unscathed as it was, but hearing about someone's magic was interesting enough to distract him from the notion of future bodily harm.

He glanced towards the large gas filled room they were apparently about to enter and nodded his head.]

Last time I checked. Heat can also make many gases more volatile, but I have no idea exactly what this stuff is.

[latkje]

Yeah, I don't really want to try throwing a match at it.

[ He studies the mist for one more breath. ]

And I don't think I can move the wall without using explosives. So. [ He sounds chipper. ] I guess I'll just learn to not breathe.

[ukase]

I mean... we could from a safe distance, but there's no telling where that actually is.

[He personally always kept matches on himself as one of those weird survival habits, but it wouldn't do them any good as there was no where to hide. If this went up, they would be caught in it and any hostages caught too close.]

You should wear the rebreather. It should filter out gas and you know... let you live without whatever effects would be waiting for you otherwise. We aren't any good to the hostages dead or delirious.

ii.

[stripebacked]

[ His voice is familiar. Only because he heard it at the makeshift clinic. He can't see when Rumlow appears, but he hears him. It's hard not to. Since his sight went everything else is too heightened. His head has felt like it's splitting and his skin is sore wherever he makes contact with something. Somewhere in the darkness he hears a voice that's familiar, but Rumlow is speaking to him and he can't focus on pinpointing the British lilt that reminds him of his wife.

Jamie hasn't touched any of the food or drink they provided. He knows he can survive without it. Plus he doesn't trust them. He doesn't trust them not to give them something else to mess with them while they're in captivity. He's trying to focus on Rumlow, but all he can really do is lean forward. When he helps him onto his feet he sags for a moment, but he gets his feet under him and moves. Slowly. Willingly. Until they hit the chemical spill. Probably a wrong time to wear a kilt, but it's not like Jamie owns anything else.

The burning sensation jogs him back into reality and he mumbles. Slurred words until he finally finds his voice. ] Claire. She--cannae leave my wife. [ All at once he pushes Rumlow away from hard and stumbles backwards. He doesn't plan to make this easy. Not when he doesn't know if someone grabbed his wife alongside him. ]

[ukase]

[Big Red didn't like him, watched him like a hawk at the clinic at first and had clearly been spoiling for a fight with him. He had been willing back then, but there had been too much going on for them to actually instigate anything. He had decided to just call the guy Big Red for his own benefit; military nicknames were just something that came naturally, and he was certain that on some level it would annoy the guy.

Here, now: it wasn't funny to literally be carrying that much weight out into the haze. There was no choice, not with the room the hostages had been in filling up with the stuff. Rumlow might not be the strongest, but he thought himself the most combat effective when it came to being around men bigger than himself. He had fought and put down a lot of guys, and it wasn't entirely a surprise when he was shoved off when they had headed into the danger zone.

Because why would it be easy? Big Red and Claire were a dedicated couple, he'd give them that. It was fucking annoying right now though.]

They've got your girl, Red. Come on, you aren't any help to her stumbling around in this gas.

[He moved in carefully, aware that a man like that could swing hard and fast. He had the advantage of clean air, but his skin had already begun to crack from exposure. Thankfully, he was dedicated to the op and kind of a glutton for punishment. He reached out to give Big Red a bit of a shove to the back, see if he could get the guy to turn around. He'd carry the asshole over his shoulders if he had to, but that was last resort.]

I gotcha, Red, and I'll put you real close to Claire the moment we get out of here.

[stripebacked]

[ Everything about Rumlow annoys Jamie, but that's to be expected. They started off rather tense and after Rumlow's needling words and meddling it only got worse. It didn't help that Jamie was full of this unfiltered rage when it came to the memories of Randall. Without Randall being here for him to have his revenge he feels a bit like he's spiraling. He didn't his justice and it eats away at Jamie no matter how hard he tries to just put it all aside. Unfortunately Rumlow has filled a void that Randall left and so that dark anger is being channeled at the man most days.

When it comes to doing things he doesn't want to do Jamie can put up a hell of a fight. When the soldiers tried to hurt his sister it was Jamie who threw himself into the middle of them without a thought. He tends to react first and then use his brain. Mostly when it comes to the people he loves and holds closest to his heart. Right now his wife is so badly off he can't stomach the thought of having to leave her in there for someone to eventually grab if they didn't have the smarts to do it from the start.

Isn't Rumlow a liar? Isn't he bad news? That's what Claire had told him at least. Well, she had told him that his initial assumptions were true after speaking to Peggy about him. There's no way for him to know if Rumlow is simply placating him to get him to cooperate. He has no way of visually confirming if his wife is safe in someone's arms.

Could be the haze or it could be one of the hundred other things that happened to him in there. But Jamie's paranoid and angry. His skin burns. Everything burns actually if he's being honest. But when Rumlow touches him what happens is as expected. Though not entirely. Jamie spins and with somewhat wobbly efficiency he lifts a leg and kicks his boot clad food out in the hopes of catching Rumlow in the gut to get him away from me. ] I'll nae leave her in there!

[ukase]

[They really didn't have time for this, not when there were plenty more hostages to get the hell out of this place. There hadn't been extra rebreathers - which felt like a convenience thing - for the hostages, but while Red was standing and seemingly moving around, he could image that breathing this garbage in was terrible for the lungs. If it could burn his skin, it was bound to be doing much the same for sensitive lung tissue.

That meant that removing the hostages was paramount, even if it seemed that Big Red was going to make life difficult. It wasn't his policy to hurt hostages unless he absolutely had to, what with them being scarred already from the experience. Some just needed some quality nap time in order to figure themselves out, but too bad they didn't have a medic with good drugs on their team.

However, he had a mission to complete.

When Red kicked out at him, it was an expected reaction. He caught the foot aimed at him and wrenched it to see if he could drop the asshole to the ground. If he had to drag Red out by the foot, then he would. He was that kind of classy caveman when he needed to be.]

You ain't leaving her, Red. You're helping her by getting out of here so she doesn't have to worry about your giant oaf ass stumbling around. Now come on, I'm going to help you out and I promise I'll put your right next to your woman once we clear this air. I don't want to have to hurt you. [Well, any more than usual.]

[stripebacked]

[ He's not going to get out of this without damage to his lungs or skin. He's too damn hard headed to just listen. Rational thought goes out the window when it comes to Claire. He'll give up his life a million times over if it means his wife is safe and cared for. He's almost done it as well. He gave up his body, mind and soul to Randall if it meant he let Claire leave safely. No price is too large when it comes to Claire. Something he intends to prove as long as he's able.

Jamie's not trained in modern warfare. He was a mercenary in Paris, but that was some time ago. Though Jamie's past and present has always been rather bloody. Violent. If he had a sword this fight would be different, but he's not helpless. Just blind and scared. Which can often prove to be more difficult simply because there's no way for Jamie to visually acquire the proof to back up Rumlow's words. All he has are empty promises.

But he hits the ground when he loses his footing. But it doesn't mean he's out. It just means he's more angry. He's got the one foot, but he's got another and now he's got a damn good idea of where Rumlow is. The free foot bends back and extends to slam his heel into Rumlow's knee. ]