NationStates Jolt Archive

Don't Fear The Reaper (Hunting Trip, CO-RP)

The Iron Bitch
26-06-2004, 22:28
The following takes place concurrently with the events in 'Tears of the Bitch'. These events will not interfer in that thread and vis versa.


Eager for a Challenge? The Thrill of the Hunt?

How about an expedition to the wildest, harshest, meanest planet in the local group? Delta Zeta IV is a jungle hellworld just 29 light years from Sol filled with thousands of species of lethal plants and animals - all waiting to hunt and be hunted. JungleTours can take you there but they can't garuntee you'll come back...


Edwards hoisted his rifle and pack and jumped off the transport into a dense patch of undergrowth in the center of the clearing. The site had clearly been used before - there was trash and litter in a pile on one side and his foot landed on a bone of some kind. It shattered with a crunch and he kicked aside some of the brush to reveal more - including a skull that was definately human or elven. Hastily he kicked the brush back over it as his wife leapt to the ground beside him.

The transport was rapidly emptying as guides, porters, and other hunters joined them. Weapons were everywhere - even the porters had rifles out and were scanning the jungle edge closely. The last man out was the most important - their host.

"Keep a sharp eye out folks - we've lost people here before. Remember that this isn't Earth or Mars or Titan. Anything might try to kill you - be ready to kill it first."

Marshall M Smith - Head of JungleTours - was a young man in his 30's who had the lean build of an experienced killer. A trio of scars traced across his cheek where something had almost made a meal out of him. The rest of his face was pleasant though - chisled good looks, deep blue eyes, and rampant blond hair had been enough to fill his tent with an extra body or two dozens of times.


"Checklist - hunting rifle, check, hunting knife, check, extra ammunition, check, gas mask... Gas Mask? Honey..."

"Apparently there are some delightful plants that kill their prey using a sprayed form of nerve gas. I bought two masks and a dozen extra filters. They are on the top shelf in the pantry."


One of the porters stood near the edge of the clearing scanning the jungle through a multi-optic monocle mounted over his left eye. An assault rifle was held casually at the waist though there was a finger on the trigger.

'Jungles quiet today...'

The survival rate for porters was 67% - per trip. The pay was really good and if you survived ten trips you could easily retire. This was trip three.

Turning back to the main group he went to report, the gentle whirring of his artificial right left barely audible. That had been trip one.


OOC: This is primarily a RP to let people work on their writing in a non-competitive environment. It is open to all, but it should be noted that super-characters are not desired or welcome. After all, a character that can overcome anything wouldn't be interested in the challenge anyway.