NationStates Jolt Archive

Sometime last week in the Omma wild lands

Doppa watched his clan mates prep their mounts. It seemed an outmoded term as the clan’s mounts ranged from horses, to quads, cars, jeeps, trucks, tanks, bikes, and all other sort of tracked vehicle. Not to mention the occasional big rig. Their clan looked more like a reject from the American southwest than a once noble hunter gatherer society.

Clearing those thoughts from his mind he depressed the clutch on his own bike. Giving it a shot of gas he tugged the broken ignition until he felt the engine roll over. Idling over to a small clustering of his clan mates he smiled a wide toothy grin, one that accentuated the contrast between his pearly whites and his sun darkened skin. The modified bike surged a bit as the bike chugged, its rear tracks throwing pebbles out behind him. Doppa couldn’t wait until the snow was back on the ground; his bike was always so unwieldy with its summer modifications.

Looking about the group he nodded to each recognizing all of them. To be honest he’d be surprised if he did not recognize anyone in this group, or the whole clan. While his was one of the smaller clans it did still boast more than two thousand members and most Pas-Omma (OOC Note: Omma refers to the tribe as a whole, the prefix is the clan name.) could say that they were intimately familiar with everyone they rode with.

This group of five consisted of one of his wives, two cousins, a half brother, and the son of his grand mother’s niece’s son. Doppa’s smile lingered over his wife and this last man, known as Raan. Raan was a fine man of good stock and Doppa’s wife wanted to include him in their marriage. Doppa was not apposed to the idea, having one husband already, but he was not sure he liked the idea of bringing in this man. Fem, his wife, seemed to have a very strong connection to him, one that might make her forget her duty to her other wives and husbands. It was about this point that Raan interrupted Doppa’s thoughts with a light smack to the arm. Looking up at the man’s pleasant face with a quizzical look Doppa was about to ask why when Raan began to speak.
“We were just talking about maybe swinging by the southern townships, it might be nice to get the clan on the highway instead of the plains.” Doppa shook his head thoughtfully to that.
“No, the Otariet have begun fortifying the southern townships after the Srell-Omma raided it last month. I doubt we could get through without bloodshed.” Raan shook his head at that, looking disappointed. Inspiration striking him he looked back up.
“We might try it in reverse then, get back to the plains after getting our supplies in Wester.” Doppa thought about that for a moment. The idea had merit, but it would depend on the mood of the Otariet in Wester. Nodding Doppa revved his bike up again, shifting the rifle on his back as he did so.
“Maybe.”

The clan had been traveling for six hours when they heard it. It was not an unheard of practice, as was evidenced by their readiness. The sound was that of a helicopter attack group. The three gun ships peaked over the horizon and began to transverse the plains quickly. It was a quick, but practiced motion. While the helicopters prepared a volley of missiles the clan circled their halftracks to the front of their caravan, clansmen all the while climbing to the top of the moving vehicles.

Now that the roof mounted guns were manned the halftracks began to release 120mm rounds into the sky. The helicopters, still too far off to be effective, responded in kind. The battler took less than two minutes and hits were scored on either side.

The choppers returned to whence they came, one smoking badly, while the Omma tended to their wounded and began putting scrap metal patched on the halftracks, not that their armor wasn’t already an homage to a scrap yard.

The entire battle was practiced, as if it was an all too common occurrence. Neither side was really offering resistance to the other. The Omma could down three choppers easy, just as those choppers could have offered missile fire. The fact that the spirits of the Omma were un phased by the battle attested to its commonplace.

(OOC: Tired more later.)

OOC: How easy would it be for an 'outsider' to find out where one of these clans (specifically this one, or another one about to be the target of a similiar skirmish). I'm thinking one of my observers might be interested in what such a group has to say about things.

snip

(OOC: Reasonably easy. With satellite monitoring you’d be able to see that the border guards work on a fairly unfaltering pattern, based on that you should be able to extrapolate the likely areas of attack.

Because this particular tribe is driving into the border guards they will be the most picked on for awhile. They are open to traders so if you wanted to get in that way its fine. They’ll probably leave you out in the wilderness should you mention your involvement with the crown. Mission work is severally frowned upon here, mission work from the Otariet church left a lot of Omma dead.

Meeting them would be as simple as walking up to them they’d send out a rider and greet you. If you were hostile the snipers would take you out, otherwise your welcomed in like a friend of the family.)

Doppa crawled forward on his belly. He was always so quiet in this. He liked scouting, it was like hunting when he was a boy. He did not get to hunt much anymore. It seemed like there was less and less deer to shoot and more and more Otariet. Raan rustled behind him and Doppa scowled. Raan had been assigned to this as well. He could understand the elder’s reasoning behind it, Raan was after all one of the best shots in the clan. He was not however a hunter. He still moved much quieter than any Otariet would notice, but that last rustle would’ve scared off any deer. Doppa looked back and began to sign his displeasure. His fingers moving quickly and silently Doppa’s fingers did what his tongue could not right now, speak.
“You are noisy.”
“There is no one to hear.”
“No, but I may have wanted to hunt.”
“There is plenty of food in the caravan.”
“There is a difference between freshly shot meat and rations traded for and stolen.”
“You are too picky. The rations store much easier.”
“Enough. We will talk about this over the next hill.”

With that Doppa began the last bit of his crawl to peak his head over the crest. Freezing at what he saw he motioned to Raan that there were Otariet over the next hill.
“Soldiers?”
“No, they look like colonizers, settlers.”
“This far out?”
“Yes, I am sure of it.”
“We’ve got to deal with them.”
“What?”

Before Doppa could illicit a response Raan had already plunked the 12.7mm rifle down on the grassy knoll and had clipped a farmer from more than a kilometre away. Even Doppa had to admit that it was a good shot, despite what it meant. Now that their presence was known Doppa spoke to Raan in a quiet voice.
“We need not kill these ones, they would have ran when we came with the others.”
“Ran? Or called in their precious army.”
*Boom* The heavy rifle thundered again this time taking a young woman in the chest. She seemed to do a graceful pirouette but Doppa knew it probably had more to do with the large fragmenting round she had just caught with her ribs than a dance.

Pulling out the binoculars he knew what he had to do. While he would prefer to be hunting he knew that since the shooting had already started that Raan needed a spotter.
“We’ll save this argument for latter.” Doppa said grimly as he began to locate and name coordinates for farmers and the sort.

Several other farmers, men and women, did their little dance to the rifle boom. It seemed as if Raan was the conductor, the rifle the percussion, and the scene below the ballet. Yet Doppa could see with the binoculars that this was not a real ballet, this was more a danse macabre. And the rifle sounded out a requiem, making Raan the reaper.

There were several dozen farmers and when they finally got shelter Raan merely switched to the infrared scope and the armor piercing rounds. Doppa had to marvel. The man knew he was a good shot, and when he went trading his rifle was on his mind. Doppa had to wonder if this was a better way, as everything that he got from trading went to his wives and children.

Doppa watched the man kill, it was almost like an art form. Never missing, person or beat, Raan scared Doppa. It was said that this man channeled the young Onus, with no regard to the lessons of his story. Raan did possess a presence about him that set others at unease, perhaps the stories were true. Of course, it could be worse. Other stories circulated about Raan as well, stories about his summoning Vema. Doppa shook this thoughts clear of his head and went back to work at the current dirty deed.

The massacre took more than four hours. As the last few farmers found spots behind bullet proof equipment Raan settled in to wait for them. Doppa left Raan to do this, tring to re-centre himself after so much bloodshed. Raan collected Doppa from his meditation shortly after the last rifle crack. Smiling slightly and looking tired Raan merely said three words and began the walk back to the clan.
“It is done.”

Coming back on the last leg of their journey Raan finally spoke again, breaking the long silence.
“Your wife wants to have me you know.” Doppa looked across at the man, pausing as he did so.
“I know.”
“Have you decided to let me into your family then?” Doppa shook his head slowly again.
“Not yet.”
“Then must I force the issue?” Doppa looked at Raan withholding an incredulous look. He knew to what Raan referred. The ceremony was grueling but by the end of it they were assured to have their answer, whether they liked it or not.
“So you would make me enter into that even though I have children to attend to?”
“I do not want to endanger your children’s father, they are as my own to me.” Doppa winced slightly at that, wondering if Fem had cuckolded him.
“Have you mentioned this path to Fem?”
“Not yet. I think after today though I will.” Doppa looked at the man trying not to hate him. Opening and then closing his mouth Doppa stopped his words and proceeded to walk the remainder of the way in silence.

Doppa cruised on the periphery of the clan. It wasn’t for any tactical reason he just wanted time to think. More to the point he wanted time to think away from Raan. Something about his actions yesterday at the colony site disturbed Doppa to no end. Raan had killed so many as if it were a shrug. Raan shed those lives like Doppa would shed travel dust. They were Otariet and not to be given the same thought as Omma, but surely some quarter must be given. Doppa shook his head; he needed to meditate on this, commune with the ones who were much wiser than he.

Turning to more pressing thoughts in his mind Doppa was saddened to realize that Raan pervaded this part of his mind as well. He’d thought about what he was going to do with his marriage and what his other spouses wanted. He’d taken the time to talk to each of them and they too were reluctant to bring Raan into their union. They were not, however, willing to risk Doppa’s life in this silly tribal challelange Raan wished to bring. No, it was not silly. The ritual was merely made from a different time for when they might not be as reasonable as they are now. Reason, thought Doppa. He found this entire situation to be very removed from reason, yet he was a patient man and could only see it through eyes tainted with a bias for order. Raan was chaotic, youthful, and destructive to those around him. Doppa could not imagine exactly what Fem saw in him.

Drawn from his thoughts by the commotion to the right of him Doppa looked up. The caravan was slowing, a large plume of black smoking rising from its centre. Tilting the controls on his bike Doppa kicked up his own dirt spire as he brought a sharp turn into the caravan, his modified wheels digging into the hard ground.

When Doppa was closer he could hear shouting near the stopped caravan. Stopping the bike and dismounting he began a quick saunter towards the commotion. Catching one of his cousins by the elbow he inquired as to what was going on, the woman gave a quick shaky answer.
“Balis ran the truck hot and the engine caught fire. Raan is giving him a hard time because the flatbed is so important.” When Doppa released the woman’s elbow in shock she scurried off.

Doppa thought for a moment, incredulous and disbelieving what he’d just heard. Balis was one of the slower members of the clan. He was obviously disadvantaged mentally and the clan gave him some extra leeway. It was one of the reasons he drove the flatbed in the first place. In such a hearty machine less was likely to go wrong. He couldn’t believe that anyone would take this out on Balis.

Doppa’s thoughts were broken by a sickening fleshy smack. This was no slapping noise, but more of the wet fleshy sound that gets made when someone’s knuckles open soft tissue in a tear like split.

Doppa pushed through the circle to see what was happening, as what he had concluded was too terrible to be true. When he finally made it into eye sight of the commotion’s catalyst he saw that his mind didn’t do the situation justice.

Sitting in the middle of the circle was Balis. His legs straight out from under him he was holding himself in perfect posture with a strength that suggested someone who might not know when their limits were being taxed. Balis’ hands were at his face, as apposed to giving him some balance. Holding his noise Balis had tears and blood escaping from his two handed nasal pinch, he was not crying though. In fact bewilderment seemed to be the primary expression on his face.

Raan for his part was circling Balis as if he was a panther about a wounded animal. Raan’s right hand dripped with blood, Balis’ blood. Muttering angrily Doppa could only make out Raan’s disgust and displeasure with Balis, and indeed the rest of the clan for allowing such an inept Omma to operate such an important piece of machinery. Spitting and cursing to the heavens and hell Raan looked about ready to strike Balis again, irregardless of the fact that that the man was on the ground with no effort being made to stand again.

Swallowing hard Doppa stepped in steeling himself against what might come.
“Raan, settle down. We need to concentrate on that flatbed right now.” Raan, at the mention of his name, flashed wild and angry eyes towards Doppa. Doppa for his part stood his ground, understanding how incredibly important it was right now not to show weakness to this man. “Raan, that engine might not have ceased, if we can work on it now we might be able to get something productive done. You know a lot about this area, why don’t I see what needs to be replaced and you can start planning the raids to take it.” Raan’s fists clenched and unclenched, offering observers a taste of his anger. So incredibly upset that he needed to calm his breathing Raan exhaled spittle across his lips, making him look even more like the rabid animal he was personifying.

It took a moment but Raan began to stalk off angrily towards the vehicle which housed the maps and communications equipment. Swallowing Doppa addressed the clan as calmly as he could.
“I guess we should set up here tonight everyone. We will see how long we’re staying once we look at the engine.” With that Doppa offered a hand to Balis. Thinking to himself Doppa was comforted by the fact that at least now he could sit down and meditate.

James was a little nervous, he wasn't entirely sure how the 'clan' would respond to his attempts at contact, but he had a bullet proof jacket and a pair of caseless machine pistols just in case. Revving the four by four he had rented in town the Mondothian 'observer' accelerated slowly towards the group of vehicles that made up the clan, a white flag waving on a stick behind him held in place by judicious application of duct tape.