NationStates Jolt Archive

The Forbidden Isle. Population: 0.

It had been this way for ages, ever since the dark days of old when the 5 great tribes of Automagfreek made war on eachother for control of the lands. The island was a small forest engufed island sitting just of the main land, to the southeast to be exact. History and legend alike tell tales of mighty expeditionary forces landing on the island in order to unlock it's mysteries, but that is where the story ends. Those that ventured onto that cursed rock never returned home, and after some 5,000 years it was finally time to solve this puzzle once adn for all. At least that is what people were pondering, nobody actually had the balls to go there and see for themselves. Freek satellites never could see past the dense forest ceiling that shrouded the land beneath it, nor could ships parked off the coast.

The One Who Shall Remain Unnamed, servant and protectorate of Lord Dreadfire and the Excessively Armed Empire has been left in charge of discovering the secrets that this land kept, for no being that has ventured off has been able to tell his tale. Seeing as The One was of Death Dealer origin, he would fare a better chance than any normal living man. But alas men is what he needed, for mankind was an incredible race. The One decided that he needed a team of extraordinary people to accompany him and his Death Dealers on this journey, for each human created in in the world had special talents. The One knew this, so he drew up invitations and had them sent to those that Automagfreek could trust.

Dear friend of Automagfreek,

Our country is currently leading an expedition to solve the mysteries of an island that has sat uninhabited ever since it was discovered. Your nation is a friend to ours, and therefore we ask this favor of you: to send a team of your best men to help us unlock the mysteries that The Forbidden Isle holds. Know this, Freek Legend has it that many unworldly creatures reside on the island.....many are believed to be demons and other bastard souls condemned to walk the Earth.

Your men need not know the reason for this investigation, as there is a very good chance that they may not return. I will be leading the expedition myself, and I for one plan on returning to my home. I await your answer.

http://67.18.37.14/40/9/upload/p968858.jpg
The One Who Shall Remain Unnamed
[-Lord of the Death Dealers-
Servant of the Dread Fires

Perhaps this journey was pure foolishness, perhaps it was destiny rearing it's ugly head. Either way, The One would unlock the mysteries that have been in the back of every Freek's mind: what is on that island?

****

The One summoned his mightiest Death Dealers to meet outside the Tomb of the Mutilated, inside the mighty Halls of the Dead. The Tomb was indeed the birthplace of the Death Dealers, for when Lord Damien's soul returned to the world of the living the bowles of the Earth spat forth a great abomination. This abomination would be the vengeful striking hammer of Lord Damien, for their souls and fates were tied together in spiritual energy. The Tomb was a simple pit with a mighty stone sealing it's top, and The One used it as a table for his various maps and tools.

The torches in The Halls crackled and burned bright, turning the air foul with the stench of decay. The thousands of corpses stacked down the mile long hallway always stunk no matter how much time had passed, and the moisture that occassionally crept in only added to that putrid odor. But regardless, the Death Dealers stood in a semi circle around their leader. Their cold red eyes were fixated on The One and unblinking as they awaited their orders. The One turned around and faced his men, a long brim hat shrouding his face as it always did. Brothers, we embark on a voyage that no mortal man could ever embark on. Many have tried, and many have failed to return to their homes. We are Dealers of Death, and we shall discover what fiends dwell on The Forbidden Isle, and we will then capture them and bring them back to Lord Dreadfire. They will be weapons most mighty, and we ourselves will come one step closer to perfection. Gather your swords and make ready to discover what creatures reside in a land not of our own.

The Death Dealers complied, gathering their various gear and preparing to depart the Halls. The drips of water that always interrupted the silence were drowned out by the marching of footsteps. The Death Dealters marched in formation down the dank corridors, their red eyes burning brightly in the darkness. The One knew that he would face a specter that he helped free, a demon known as The Butcher. The foul creature's very presence made The One uncomfortable, and if The Butcher thought to cross his path he would most definatly strike him down with his shining sword. But The One knew that The Butcher was bound to serve Lord Damien, and that thought brought him limited comfort.

Although he himself was not immortal, The One knew that he stood a much better chance at this than flesh, but the talents of humans were too valuable to pass up. He would most definatly have to open and utilize his Third Eye to see what dangers lay ahead of him, but regardless of peril he would press on.


OOC: Ok, here's the rules, because this RP is going to be very much a fantasy:

ICly, you must be a friend of Automagfreek. The One does not want people he is not familiar with going on this expedition.

Small squads only, no large forces. Your units should consist of scientists, guards, and maybe a priest or two. Expect to lose people along the way for sake of the story.

Any questions? Feel free to TM me. This RP is going to be fun, and should be a nice change from my usual "pillage and burn" type stories.

It was 12 men, a mix of highly trained special forces, intelligence agents, and a scientist specializing in supernatural phenomena and cryptozoology.

Or, as Erik Mueller, squad leader thought, a clusterfuck of napalm, gasoline, and a little octanitrocubane thrown in for good measure. Specfor hated the suits, suits thought specfor was disposable, and scientists thought both were varying levels of fumbling idiots.

Mueller, being one of the Special Forces, didn't look down on the suits from the SSA (Special Security Agency), but he did look down on whichever one of them assembled this. If only they looked beyond paper and plasma screens. Mueller himself was a Colonel of the Variable Unit, a 'confirm nor deny' Army based unit. He had been everywhere from the urban wastelands of Markov to the bloody, humid Jungles of the Kurtz province, seen men burnt, ripped up, impaled, shot up, burst, and had their brains fried by microwave beams and radiation, but the dark mystique of the APTO ally known as AMF gave him shivers. The idea of the 'forbidden isle' sounded like something out of a horror read, and more and more he felt he was among the disposable secondary characters. There were two other men, sitting in the breifing room from Variable. Sgt. Kyle Houser was a man he had served with, like all members of Variable crosstrained for many proficiencies, but had been written off as an explosives specialist. Given some fertilizer and a fuse, he could take out a bridge. With a government syntheticizing plant, he could take out half a city with enough ONC or Thermium Nitrate. 2nd Lt Hans Gorreller was a short guy, a bit new to Variable but chosen for his excellent record in Kurtz, but kind of 'sketchy'. The man was a great CQB fighter, but the horror stories persisted. 32 dead... With a knife, a Colt .45 with 7 rounds of ammo, his teeth, and his fists.. While any member of a special forces team had to be a little bit insane, something about Gorreller gave Mueller the creeps.

The man in question sat at the table, twirling a combat knife about by blade and hilt, but not once injuring himself. He was humming the tune to a song Mueller didn't recognize, and didn't blink once as he watched the well cleaned metal of the blade flash and dance in his fingertips. There were three more men comprising the military component of the team, all from Force Recon. Or rather, men and women.

Mueller was not sexist, but he was a bit surprised when the TO&E showed a team sniper with the listing Ter Horst, Kaitlin. There wasn't much to dig up on her, he had noted. Good kill record in various operations, and one court martial. Apparently, she had a run in with someone who was a little too interested in seeing a woman in service. They found him with a bullet hole in his thigh, only a few inches away from his groin. Needless to say, someone thought she was good enough to stay in service. It had been a long while since Mueller had dated, such intrests had long been drowned in blood and gunfire. But some remant of the Mueller that lived a normal life noted that as far as women in the military went, Ter Horst was a looker. He pushed the thoughts out of his head as the went over the rest of the Marines. Now wasn't a time for having romantic intrests among your teammates. Dale Edwards and Alexi Gryzlov were more Force Recon guys, working the machineguns.

The suits, five of them, were men who simply identified themselves as Jake, Elwood, and Simmons were a bit older, in their forties. In excellent shape, and clearly weathered by combat. SSA Field Operatives, they were mercs and ex Specfor that were closer to the military members than the other two suits. Nick Kolans was a communications guy, lots of fancy high tech shit, which would fail or break at varying times during the mission. Such was the record of these devices in combat. Robert Johnson was a 'supervisor', with good combat skill and experience.

Doctor Jason Clifford was a whole other case. A guy who had to be taken out to a training range just to fire the damn weapons, he was supposedly the best kind of guy for investigating the paranormal, and from what Mueller knew of such things, seemed to be a lot more common sense and realism than others in the field.

The 'supervisor' sat at the end of the table, watching the men. The room was blank, with a map of AMF on a large display.

"I'm not going to give you any of that 'you know why you're here' shit, because I don't, and after reading the invitation, I doubt you will either."

Mueller silently agreed.

"Ah, excuse me," spoke Gryzlov, sounding a bit annoyed, "But we're being sent to an island that nobody knows anything about, with no intelligence or real idea of what we're doing, against an enemy of unknown number or nature. I may not have been in as many ops as the rest of you, but I know enough that this kind of stuff gets people killed in very stupid, preventable and unecessary ways."

"Look," growled the supervisor, his own irritation seeping into his voice, "If I knew anything more about it, I'd damn well tell you, because I'm stuck in this shit too. Someone high up has an intrest in it, so all we can do is be ready for as much as we can. Now, I assume many of you are not familiar with eachother, so let's begin and lay out some loadout parameters..."

A reply detailing the force had been sent to the AMF about the force that didn't really know what was going on, by a government that was slightly less confused, to a government that needed them to make things less so.