Created: 2006-02-23 18:18:12
Game: unity
Faith: Barnabas
Lightning crackles fiercely around the squat, imposing fortress. Magical forks of charged energy striking indiscriminately amongst the roiling mass of battling soldiers that litter the ground at the base of the structure like a colony of ants.
He straightens his beret ever so slightly as he gazes out of the tower window, cold eyes taking in the scene below before he turns to face the warrior beside him.
"The divirsionary attack has been a success, it's time for us to prepare for extraction!"
"A success? Seriously? Tell me, in your world what part of "success" equates to Mantis blasting thousands of soldiers into crispy, snack-sized portions without heed for their alliegance?"
"The part that doesn't involve US being blasted into crispy, snack-sized portions?"
"This is ridiculous. I'm serious, this whole situation is absolutely ridiculous on a level I can't even begin to fathom!"
"Ridiculous? What's so ridiculous about securing the thing that Barnabas holds most dear in the world? This could win the civil war in one fell swoop, and nobody is more qualified for this mission than us!"
The larger man regards his companion for a moment before shaking his head and waving his blood stained hand agitatedly, his voice raising slightly and echoing off the walls of the small tower chamber.
"I GOT SHOT! Did you get shot? No, no you fucking didn't! However I got a bolt in the abdomen, and for what?"
"You'll live--maybe--I suppose--"
"Enough ov zis foolishness, ve have to leef, Mantis cannot keep zis up for long!"
Both men turn and glare at the woman addressing them for a moment before shrugging and moving away from the window. The uniformed man reaches into a pouch at his waist and produces a scrying mirror, tapping the thing against the palm of his free hand impatiently untill he is greet by a burst of white noise at which he clears his throat and begins to speak in clipped tones.
"This is FOXHOUND to High Command. We have the package, I repeat the package is secure. We are go for extraction, medic requested for one whining shaman who really should be big enough to shake off a fucking crossbow bolt to the gut. Repeat, package is secured, medic needed upon return. Operation successful, over!"
The mirror crackles, the surface of the item shimmering briefly before a nasal voice issues forth from it.
"High Command acknowledges report. Green light on extraction. Portal will open on roof in precisely four minutes. Over."
"Okay, this is it team. Wolf, Raven; secure the stairwell and contact Liquid, tell him we're leaving in two minutes and to get his ass up to the roof-
"But ve haf four minutes-"
"Well yes, but he doesn't need to know that, it'll be funnier this way. Now get moving! Octopus, you got the package?"
The shadowy figure in the corner sighs and steps forward half a pace before speaking.
"You know this is fucking stupid, right? I mean, we've been on some really stupid missions before, but this takes the fucking cake!"
"Stop whining and give me the damn thing before I punt you out the window to see if you can mimmick a bird and fly!"
"There's no need to be a dick about it Ocelot, here!"
Octopus throws a bundle to his colleague who plucks it out of the air deftly before tugging the strings of the sacking open and peering inside, a grim smile splitting his lips.
"Mr. Perrywinckle, we meet at last!"
"Mr. Perrywinckle? Really? He named his bear Mr. Perrywinckle? That's fucking retarded!"
Ocelot holds up the ragged, patch-work stuffed bear and shrugs slightly.
"I don't know, he kind of looks like a Perrywinckle I guess. Besides, what do you expect? Barnabas is like 11, clever naming isn't his vocation. I mean what did they call their last campaign into the North? Conquest Northward? What the fuck is that?"
"This from the team who is currently running "Operation Bearsnatch"? That name is wrong on roughly a thousand levels, it sounds like those films we catch Raven watching on the big screen when he thinks we're all away on maneuvers!"
"Fair point, well made. Now lets get our asses to the roof before we miss the portal, I don't know about you but I don't want our fate to be decided by how long Mantis can be bothered to wait."
"Damn straight, let's bounce dog!"
"What. The. Fuck?"
"Uhm--I have no idea. Probably some bad blood. Anyway, let's go, for the Glory of Leto!"
"Yeah, sure, Leto. Ahem."
GM: FOXHOUND
AGM:
Squad Leader:
Full Member:
Member:
Newbie: DOGPOUND
It's a secret
RULES OF MEMBERSHIP:
Obey all the rules of Temper's Ball:
a. Do not make an ass of yourself
b. Do not post bug reports on the baords, over ICQ, or in IRC, unless specifically asked to by staff.
c. Do not spam or post redundant messages.
d. Do not post kingdom numbers or kingdom names on the boards.
e. Pornography, piracy, or other illegal material is not allowed.
f. Do not post links or advertizements to hate or anti-Evernight sites. This includes racial, ethical, or sexually related sites.
GAINING MEMBERSHIP:
Very simple, you have to contact Revolver and inform him that you have applied to the guild. In this application you are also obligated to include the entire chorus of "Jackie, Dressed in Cobras" by the New Pornographers. Any style is accepted, but be aware that Jazz -will- get you killed without question.
It also might be worth noting that if you don't have a sense of humour, we might not quite be the guild for you. Just saying, you know, in case you hadn't figured that one out by now.
RANK STRUCTURE:
FOXHOUND: All are equal within FOXHOUND--granted Liquid is CALLED the pointman, but he has no more power than anybody else--possibly even less given what a cretin he is. Anyway if you're in FOXHOUND you help run FOXHOUND, that's it.
DOGPOUND: New members and those who don't quite "get" what we're going for. Not quite second class citizens, but not far from it either.
PROMOTION:
It's random and done entirely at the whimsy of the full FOXHOUND roster.
CONDUCT:
UPDATED: Oh hey, look at that, Dyvim is back to his old tricks so you know what that means, right? That's right bitches, BUILDING GUILD!!!! So don't fuck with us, or we'll tarmac your drive faster than a gypsy troupe--and probably bang your wife---twice---the wife twice, that is, not tarmacing the drive twice. That would just be silly!
Okay, look, for the last time I HATE WAR. I like building, I don't like warring. At a push maybe I'll let you conduct some espionagey shit or whatever, but don't pester me about wars because wars mean warchats, and warchats are bullshit. That is all.
Things have changed and the great House Gobblecoque now hold the trigger for FOXHOUND in their finely manicured grasp, that means we'll be killing what we want, when we want and as often as we have the time inbetween business lunches and all around being sexy. Consider this your warning everybody else, we're like Goblins but with awesome hair and enough sensuality to kill a rhino at fifty yards--well okay everybody but like FA and 9th, I love you guys, how could I randomly kill and/or molest you when I have so much love? Well okay easily, but I'm not going to. Pinky swear?
CONTACT DETAILS:
GM Can be reached via email at dyvimmy1982@yahoo.co.uk
or via ICQ at 35013520
or via AIM at Dyvimmy
or via MSN at wraith134@hotmail.co.uk