NationStates Jolt Archive

OCC: This is open to anyone.

This is a survival rp. Set on a scenic island in the Pacific. But, this beautiful island holds a dark secret. It's based on The Most Dangerous Game. Only this time it is a group of wealthy men who own a private island. It is on this island that they hunt human beings, for the thrill. Back in civilization there is a contest held. A group of people are selected to go on an all expense paid trip to the Pacific on a cruise. They are to sail to an island resort. But, it's a set up and they are all trapped on this island paradise, fighting to survive against some of the best hunters in the world. What part will you play? Will you be a hapless victim? Will you fight back? Or will you stalk and kill human beings?

I'll join in

Sam Sampson
Height: 6'
Weight:150
Age: unknown
white
blond hair

And can i make him one of my Unit 12 agents? there would be no difference except that he can alter his apperence and he is a little stronger and faster.

Is he gonna be a hunter?

For those who wish to join, post your character description and a short history.

i was hoping to be prey

sam was a drug smuggler before his imprisnment. a year before is release he mad transformed into a unit 12 agent to work in rotten bacon.

Name: Jonas Hastings
Age: 25
Height: 5' 11"
Weight: 180lbs
Hair: Dark with a short beard
Eyes: Blue
History: Jonas is a police officer. All his life he wanted to do good and protect people and the law. His job was stressful, especially with he trying to become a detective. He's generally a nice guy but tough. He recieved a letter in the mail that he won a contest and needs the vacation.

when do we start?

When more people sign-up.

OCC: Bump

My charactor will be a hunter, heres some info....

Name: Jason Hartt
Age: 24
Height: 5'10
Weight: 185Lbs
Hair: Short,black, flipped up in the front, no facial hair
Eyes: blue
Body shape: Hartt is well built, awesome physical condition...
Bio: Jason Hartt spent some time in the Ostian special forces unit known as JTAF(Joint Tactical Assult Force). He was imprisoned for 4 years in a maximum sercurity military dentention center for going against orders on a black ops mission which resulted in the deaths of 12 innocent people.

When Hartt was released a wealthy man by the name of **Insert name here** hired him for sercurity reasons but then informed him that he would make more money if he would use his skills for a new game they had made up for their intertainment, Hartt agreed when he was told how much money he would receive.

Good character, thanks for showing interest.

Thank you

Name: Dirk Pitt
Age: 23
Height: 5'9
Weight: 175 lbs
Hair: Blond
Eyes: Blue
Body shape: In a normal shape
Bio: Dirk is a expert hacker. Was sent to jail at the age of 15 for hacking. Is on the run from the law and found his chance to escape with the vacation.

We need more people to sign-up.

("The Most Dangerous Game" huh? That is what inspired the Zodiac Killer)

Name: Brooke Thompson

Age: 17

Height: 5'10

Weight: in her words "That's my business." But she's slender.

Hair color: Brown

Eye color: Brown

Bio: An expert sailior and hunter. Though she would never dream of hunting a human being. Much less being a hunted one her self.

Name: Jason Thompson

Age: 35

Height: 6'4

Weight: 210 pounds (I'm bad with weight, but he's not overweight)

Hair color: Brown

Eye color: Blue

Bio: He's Brooke's father. He likes to take her on hunting trips with him.

I ensure you I have no intention of follwing the Zodiac's work. Interesting character. She seems pretty young to be doing all that and is she by herself?

Yeah she's alone. Well unless I include her father in this. She's actually out of a story I wrote.

What kind of story did you write?

Perhaps you could have her with her father, could provide more drama for the rp, but it's totally up to you.

Well it's about two hunters (a father and daughter) who are suddenly stalked by a serial killer, while on a hunting trip.

Character : Octavius Onyxshield
Height: 6'3
Weight: 210
History: Octavius was one of the few Imperial soldiers around for the begining of the civil war, and watched many of his friends die in Paradise City. On top of that, most of his family lived in Divinity, and was killed when the EIS Excelsior exploded, covering the city in a Lewisite cloud. Now that his country is becoming more stable, he was thinking about getting away from this hell hole of a country, and this trip seems like it is as good as any. He is starting to lose his mind due to all of the drama he has been through.

Well it's about two hunters (a father and daughter) who are suddenly stalked by a serial killer, while on a hunting trip.

Sounds very interesting, is it a short story or a novel?

Exponent, thanks for showing interest.

short story

Cool. I've tried to write short stories before but I just don't have the attention span to finish them.

I know what you mean I have too many stories. But I do finish them eventually.

I know what you mean I have too many stories. But I do finish them eventually.

My problem is I can't finish any of them, but good for you.

When's this going to launch...common ppl ....MORE SIGN UPS!!....

OCC: This is open to anyone.

This is a survival rp. Set on a scenic island in the Pacific. But, this beautiful island holds a dark secret. It's based on The Most Dangerous Game. Only this time it is a group of wealthy men who own a private island. It is on this island that they hunt human beings, for the thrill. Back in civilization there is a contest held. A group of people are selected to go on an all expense paid trip to the Pacific on a cruise. They are to sail to an island resort. But, it's a set up and they are all trapped on this island paradise, fighting to survive against some of the best hunters in the world. What part will you play? Will you be a hapless victim? Will you fight back? Or will you stalk and kill human beings?
You read that story too eh? Okay I'll join up, give me a sec to come up with a character.

OCC: This is open to anyone.

This is a survival rp. Set on a scenic island in the Pacific. But, this beautiful island holds a dark secret. It's based on The Most Dangerous Game. Only this time it is a group of wealthy men who own a private island. It is on this island that they hunt human beings, for the thrill. Back in civilization there is a contest held. A group of people are selected to go on an all expense paid trip to the Pacific on a cruise. They are to sail to an island resort. But, it's a set up and they are all trapped on this island paradise, fighting to survive against some of the best hunters in the world. What part will you play? Will you be a hapless victim? Will you fight back? Or will you stalk and kill human beings?
You read that story too eh? Okay I'll join up, give me a sec to come up with a character.

Alright!!, Kulikovo i like your Rp ideas

Reallydrunk']Alright!!, Kulikovo i like your Rp ideas

Thank you very much, your's are pretty nice as well.

Name: Benjamin Stone.

Gender: Male.

Age: 48.

Hair: Mostly brown, with a liitle gray.

Married: Yes, with 5 kids (can they come?)

Physical Description: Has a moustache, and bangs shaped like "fish-hooks."

Height: 1.8 meters.

Weight: 100 kilos.

Occupation: Lt Colonel in the U.S. army.

Carries a gun: Yes, his army-issued pistol.

Personality: Conservative, and compassionate at the same time.

Attire: Military uniform.

Hunter: No...fighting prey.

Nice character. Yes, you can bring the kids. That'll make it very interesting.

Uhh, i don't think he is allowed to carry a weapon? my charactor will of course have a high powered sniper rifle...an H&K PSG1, he is also armed with a Glock .20....annnd a tactical knife he is trained to kill people silently at close range with, he prefers his rifle though..

Nice character. Yes, you can bring the kids. That'll make it very interesting.
OK!

Actually, all characters except for the hunters will ahve their weapons (if any) taken off of them.

This should be very interesting....my charactor will also be dressed in Cadpat camo with a ghillie suit at hand

it could be like the father being the hunter and tha daughter as the prey

The Wife: Daphine Stone

Gender: Female

Age: 45.

Hair: a dark redish color.

Married: yes, of course.

Physical description: Hazel eyes, and long lovely hair.

Height: 1.6 meters.

Weight: 54 kilos.

Occupation: Homemaker.

Carries a gun: No, never.

Personality: Caring, compaionate, feminine.

Attire: A dress of the finest quality.

Hunter: Of course not!


The Children:


Janet:

Gendar: Female

Age: 22

Hair: Blonde, silky, and goes down to her waist.

Married: Nope, not yet.

Physical Description: Ravishing, and thin.

Height: 1.7 meters.

Weight: 50 kilos.

Occupation: None, her Dad is paying her way through colege.

Carries a gun: No.

Personality: Witty, and understanding.

Attire: A red short skirt.

Hunter: Negative.


Benjamin Jr. is 19, and head-strong.

Oliver is 17, and has attiude problems.

Thadeus is 13, and his father is his hero.

Alex is 10, and quite capable.

My charactor is not a cold hearted killer but does what he must to get paid, although at some point mercy could surface causing his decisions to alter...it depends..we will see..

oh I can't wait. I've been looking for a good chiller RP.

O yes! a chiller this will be indeed :)..i have lots in store...not only is my charactor a hunter but he likes to play games aswell.

He was trained in stealth tactics allowing him to stalk and kill his target when ever he feels the time is right.. blending into his enviroment ect...

Benjamin was getting packed for the adventure of a lifetime! As he packed his suitcases, his wife came running up. "Dear" she said in her robe (it was after all the middle of the night) "what's all the ruckus about?" Ben just smiled. "Daphine," he said "I have a little suprise for you." "What is it dear?" she asked, a faint smile apon her lips. "Well honey," he said "we're going on a little vacation." "A vacation...to where dear?" she asked putting her hand on her chest. "To the pacific, an island for folks like us who want to get away; the kids are coming." "But" she said "you know our finacial position dear...we can't afford it." "Honey...all expenses are paid for by the people who gave us the call!" "But..." said Daphine was puzzled and excited at the same time "the...details...the reasons?" "I'll tell you all about it on the flight..."

For all those who are interested:


The Most Dangerous Game
by Richard Connell


"OFF THERE to the right--somewhere--is a large island," said Whitney." It's rather a mystery--"

"What island is it?" Rainsford asked.

"The old charts call it `Ship-Trap Island,"' Whitney replied." A suggestive name, isn't it? Sailors have a curious dread of the place. I don't know why. Some superstition--"

"Can't see it," remarked Rainsford, trying to peer through the dank tropical night that was palpable as it pressed its thick warm blackness in upon the yacht.

"You've good eyes," said Whitney, with a laugh," and I've seen you pick off a moose moving in the brown fall bush at four hundred yards, but even you can't see four miles or so through a moonless Caribbean night."

"Nor four yards," admitted Rainsford. "Ugh! It's like moist black velvet."

"It will be light enough in Rio," promised Whitney. "We should make it in a few days. I hope the jaguar guns have come from Purdey's. We should have some good hunting up the Amazon. Great sport, hunting."

"The best sport in the world," agreed Rainsford.

"For the hunter," amended Whitney. "Not for the jaguar."

"Don't talk rot, Whitney," said Rainsford. "You're a big-game hunter, not a philosopher. Who cares how a jaguar feels?"

"Perhaps the jaguar does," observed Whitney.

"Bah! They've no understanding."

"Even so, I rather think they understand one thing--fear. The fear of pain and the fear of death."

"Nonsense," laughed Rainsford. "This hot weather is making you soft, Whitney. Be a realist. The world is made up of two classes--the hunters and the huntees. Luckily, you and I are hunters. Do you think we've passed that island yet?"

"I can't tell in the dark. I hope so."

"Why? " asked Rainsford.

"The place has a reputation--a bad one."

"Cannibals?" suggested Rainsford.

"Hardly. Even cannibals wouldn't live in such a God-forsaken place. But it's gotten into sailor lore, somehow. Didn't you notice that the crew's nerves seemed a bit jumpy today?"

"They were a bit strange, now you mention it. Even Captain Nielsen--"

"Yes, even that tough-minded old Swede, who'd go up to the devil himself and ask him for a light. Those fishy blue eyes held a look I never saw there before. All I could get out of him was `This place has an evil name among seafaring men, sir.' Then he said to me, very gravely, `Don't you feel anything?'--as if the air about us was actually poisonous. Now, you mustn't laugh when I tell you this--I did feel something like a sudden chill.

"There was no breeze. The sea was as flat as a plate-glass window. We were drawing near the island then. What I felt was a--a mental chill; a sort of sudden dread."

"Pure imagination," said Rainsford.

"One superstitious sailor can taint the whole ship's company with his fear."

"Maybe. But sometimes I think sailors have an extra sense that tells them when they are in danger. Sometimes I think evil is a tangible thing--with wave lengths, just as sound and light have. An evil place can, so to speak, broadcast vibrations of evil. Anyhow, I'm glad we're getting out of this zone. Well, I think I'll turn in now, Rainsford."

"I'm not sleepy," said Rainsford. "I'm going to smoke another pipe up on the afterdeck."

"Good night, then, Rainsford. See you at breakfast."

"Right. Good night, Whitney."

There was no sound in the night as Rainsford sat there but the muffled throb of the engine that drove the yacht swiftly through the darkness, and the swish and ripple of the wash of the propeller.

Rainsford, reclining in a steamer chair, indolently puffed on his favorite brier. The sensuous drowsiness of the night was on him." It's so dark," he thought, "that I could sleep without closing my eyes; the night would be my eyelids--"

An abrupt sound startled him. Off to the right he heard it, and his ears, expert in such matters, could not be mistaken. Again he heard the sound, and again. Somewhere, off in the blackness, someone had fired a gun three times.

Rainsford sprang up and moved quickly to the rail, mystified. He strained his eyes in the direction from which the reports had come, but it was like trying to see through a blanket. He leaped upon the rail and balanced himself there, to get greater elevation; his pipe, striking a rope, was knocked from his mouth. He lunged for it; a short, hoarse cry came from his lips as he realized he had reached too far and had lost his balance. The cry was pinched off short as the blood-warm waters of the Caribbean Sea dosed over his head.

He struggled up to the surface and tried to cry out, but the wash from the speeding yacht slapped him in the face and the salt water in his open mouth made him gag and strangle. Desperately he struck out with strong strokes after the receding lights of the yacht, but he stopped before he had swum fifty feet. A certain coolheadedness had come to him; it was not the first time he had been in a tight place. There was a chance that his cries could be heard by someone aboard the yacht, but that chance was slender and grew more slender as the yacht raced on. He wrestled himself out of his clothes and shouted with all his power. The lights of the yacht became faint and ever-vanishing fireflies; then they were blotted out entirely by the night.

Rainsford remembered the shots. They had come from the right, and doggedly he swam in that direction, swimming with slow, deliberate strokes, conserving his strength. For a seemingly endless time he fought the sea. He began to count his strokes; he could do possibly a hundred more and then--

Rainsford heard a sound. It came out of the darkness, a high screaming sound, the sound of an animal in an extremity of anguish and terror.

He did not recognize the animal that made the sound; he did not try to; with fresh vitality he swam toward the sound. He heard it again; then it was cut short by another noise, crisp, staccato.

"Pistol shot," muttered Rainsford, swimming on.

Ten minutes of determined effort brought another sound to his ears--the most welcome he had ever heard--the muttering and growling of the sea breaking on a rocky shore. He was almost on the rocks before he saw them; on a night less calm he would have been shattered against them. With his remaining strength he dragged himself from the swirling waters. Jagged crags appeared to jut up into the opaqueness; he forced himself upward, hand over hand. Gasping, his hands raw, he reached a flat place at the top. Dense jungle came down to the very edge of the cliffs. What perils that tangle of trees and underbrush might hold for him did not concern Rainsford just then. All he knew was that he was safe from his enemy, the sea, and that utter weariness was on him. He flung himself down at the jungle edge and tumbled headlong into the deepest sleep of his life.

When he opened his eyes he knew from the position of the sun that it was late in the afternoon. Sleep had given him new vigor; a sharp hunger was picking at him. He looked about him, almost cheerfully.

"Where there are pistol shots, there are men. Where there are men, there is food," he thought. But what kind of men, he wondered, in so forbidding a place? An unbroken front of snarled and ragged jungle fringed the shore.

He saw no sign of a trail through the closely knit web of weeds and trees; it was easier to go along the shore, and Rainsford floundered along by the water. Not far from where he landed, he stopped.

Some wounded thing--by the evidence, a large animal--had thrashed about in the underbrush; the jungle weeds were crushed down and the moss was lacerated; one patch of weeds was stained crimson. A small, glittering object not far away caught Rainsford's eye and he picked it up. It was an empty cartridge.

"A twenty-two," he remarked. "That's odd. It must have been a fairly large animal too. The hunter had his nerve with him to tackle it with a light gun. It's clear that the brute put up a fight. I suppose the first three shots I heard was when the hunter flushed his quarry and wounded it. The last shot was when he trailed it here and finished it."

He examined the ground closely and found what he had hoped to find--the print of hunting boots. They pointed along the cliff in the direction he had been going. Eagerly he hurried along, now slipping on a rotten log or a loose stone, but making headway; night was beginning to settle down on the island.

Bleak darkness was blacking out the sea and jungle when Rainsford sighted the lights. He came upon them as he turned a crook in the coast line; and his first thought was that be had come upon a village, for there were many lights. But as he forged along he saw to his great astonishment that all the lights were in one enormous building--a lofty structure with pointed towers plunging upward into the gloom. His eyes made out the shadowy outlines of a palatial chateau; it was set on a high bluff, and on three sides of it cliffs dived down to where the sea licked greedy lips in the shadows.

"Mirage," thought Rainsford. But it was no mirage, he found, when he opened the tall spiked iron gate. The stone steps were real enough; the massive door with a leering gargoyle for a knocker was real enough; yet above it all hung an air of unreality.

He lifted the knocker, and it creaked up stiffly, as if it had never before been used. He let it fall, and it startled him with its booming loudness. He thought he heard steps within; the door remained closed. Again Rainsford lifted the heavy knocker, and let it fall. The door opened then--opened as suddenly as if it were on a spring--and Rainsford stood blinking in the river of glaring gold light that poured out. The first thing Rainsford's eyes discerned was the largest man Rainsford had ever seen--a gigantic creature, solidly made and black bearded to the waist. In his hand the man held a long-barreled revolver, and he was pointing it straight at Rainsford's heart.

Out of the snarl of beard two small eyes regarded Rainsford.

"Don't be alarmed," said Rainsford, with a smile which he hoped was disarming. "I'm no robber. I fell off a yacht. My name is Sanger Rainsford of New York City."

The menacing look in the eyes did not change. The revolver pointing as rigidly as if the giant were a statue. He gave no sign that he understood Rainsford's words, or that he had even heard them. He was dressed in uniform--a black uniform trimmed with gray astrakhan.

"I'm Sanger Rainsford of New York," Rainsford began again. "I fell off a yacht. I am hungry."

The man's only answer was to raise with his thumb the hammer of his revolver. Then Rainsford saw the man's free hand go to his forehead in a military salute, and he saw him click his heels together and stand at attention. Another man was coming down the broad marble steps, an erect, slender man in evening clothes. He advanced to Rainsford and held out his hand.

In a cultivated voice marked by a slight accent that gave it added precision and deliberateness, he said, "It is a very great pleasure and honor to welcome Mr. Sanger Rainsford, the celebrated hunter, to my home."

Automatically Rainsford shook the man's hand.

"I've read your book about hunting snow leopards in Tibet, you see," explained the man. "I am General Zaroff."

Rainsford's first impression was that the man was singularly handsome; his second was that there was an original, almost bizarre quality about the general's face. He was a tall man past middle age, for his hair was a vivid white; but his thick eyebrows and pointed military mustache were as black as the night from which Rainsford had come. His eyes, too, were black and very bright. He had high cheekbones, a sharpcut nose, a spare, dark face--the face of a man used to giving orders, the face of an aristocrat. Turning to the giant in uniform, the general made a sign. The giant put away his pistol, saluted, withdrew.

"Ivan is an incredibly strong fellow," remarked the general, "but he has the misfortune to be deaf and dumb. A simple fellow, but, I'm afraid, like all his race, a bit of a savage."

"Is he Russian?"

"He is a Cossack," said the general, and his smile showed red lips and pointed teeth. "So am I."

"Come," he said, "we shouldn't be chatting here. We can talk later. Now you want clothes, food, rest. You shall have them. This is a most-restful spot."

Ivan had reappeared, and the general spoke to him with lips that moved but gave forth no sound.

"Follow Ivan, if you please, Mr. Rainsford," said the general. "I was about to have my dinner when you came. I'll wait for you. You'll find that my clothes will fit you, I think."

It was to a huge, beam-ceilinged bedroom with a canopied bed big enough for six men that Rainsford followed the silent giant. Ivan laid out an evening suit, and Rainsford, as he put it on, noticed that it came from a London tailor who ordinarily cut and sewed for none below the rank of duke.

The dining room to which Ivan conducted him was in many ways remarkable. There was a medieval magnificence about it; it suggested a baronial hall of feudal times with its oaken panels, its high ceiling, its vast refectory tables where twoscore men could sit down to eat. About the hall were mounted heads of many animals--lions, tigers, elephants, moose, bears; larger or more perfect specimens Rainsford had never seen. At the great table the general was sitting, alone.

"You'll have a cocktail, Mr. Rainsford," he suggested. The cocktail was surpassingly good; and, Rainsford noted, the table apointments were of the finest--the linen, the crystal, the silver, the china.

They were eating borsch, the rich, red soup with whipped cream so dear to Russian palates. Half apologetically General Zaroff said, "We do our best to preserve the amenities of civilization here. Please forgive any lapses. We are well off the beaten track, you know. Do you think the champagne has suffered from its long ocean trip?"

"Not in the least," declared Rainsford. He was finding the general a most thoughtful and affable host, a true cosmopolite. But there was one small trait of .the general's that made Rainsford uncomfortable. Whenever he looked up from his plate he found the general studying him, appraising him narrowly.

"Perhaps," said General Zaroff, "you were surprised that I recognized your name. You see, I read all books on hunting published in English, French, and Russian. I have but one passion in my life, Mr. Rainsford, and it is the hunt."

"You have some wonderful heads here," said Rainsford as he ate a particularly well-cooked filet mignon. " That Cape buffalo is the largest I ever saw."

"Oh, that fellow. Yes, he was a monster."

"Did he charge you?"

"Hurled me against a tree," said the general. "Fractured my skull. But I got the brute."

"I've always thought," said Rainsford, "that the Cape buffalo is the most dangerous of all big game."

For a moment the general did not reply; he was smiling his curious red-lipped smile. Then he said slowly, "No. You are wrong, sir. The Cape buffalo is not the most dangerous big game." He sipped his wine. "Here in my preserve on this island," he said in the same slow tone, "I hunt more dangerous game."

Rainsford expressed his surprise. "Is there big game on this island?"

The general nodded. "The biggest."

"Really?"

"Oh, it isn't here naturally, of course. I have to stock the island."

"What have you imported, general?" Rainsford asked. "Tigers?"

The general smiled. "No," he said. "Hunting tigers ceased to interest me some years ago. I exhausted their possibilities, you see. No thrill left in tigers, no real danger. I live for danger, Mr. Rainsford."

The general took from his pocket a gold cigarette case and offered his guest a long black cigarette with a silver tip; it was perfumed and gave off a smell like incense.

"We will have some capital hunting, you and I," said the general. "I shall be most glad to have your society."

"But what game--" began Rainsford.

"I'll tell you," said the general. "You will be amused, I know. I think I may say, in all modesty, that I have done a rare thing. I have invented a new sensation. May I pour you another glass of port?"

"Thank you, general."

The general filled both glasses, and said, "God makes some men poets. Some He makes kings, some beggars. Me He made a hunter. My hand was made for the trigger, my father said. He was a very rich man with a quarter of a million acres in the Crimea, and he was an ardent sportsman. When I was only five years old he gave me a little gun, specially made in Moscow for me, to shoot sparrows with. When I shot some of his prize turkeys with it, he did not punish me; he complimented me on my marksmanship. I killed my first bear in the Caucasus when I was ten. My whole life has been one prolonged hunt. I went into the army--it was expected of noblemen's sons--and for a time commanded a division of Cossack cavalry, but my real interest was always the hunt. I have hunted every kind of game in every land. It would be impossible for me to tell you how many animals I have killed."

The general puffed at his cigarette.

"After the debacle in Russia I left the country, for it was imprudent for an officer of the Czar to stay there. Many noble Russians lost everything. I, luckily, had invested heavily in American securities, so I shall never have to open a tearoom in Monte Carlo or drive a taxi in Paris. Naturally, I continued to hunt--grizzliest in your Rockies, crocodiles in the Ganges, rhinoceroses in East Africa. It was in Africa that the Cape buffalo hit me and laid me up for six months. As soon as I recovered I started for the Amazon to hunt jaguars, for I had heard they were unusually cunning. They weren't." The Cossack sighed. "They were no match at all for a hunter with his wits about him, and a high-powered rifle. I was bitterly disappointed. I was lying in my tent with a splitting headache one night when a terrible thought pushed its way into my mind. Hunting was beginning to bore me! And hunting, remember, had been my life. I have heard that in America businessmen often go to pieces when they give up the business that has been their life."

"Yes, that's so," said Rainsford.

The general smiled. "I had no wish to go to pieces," he said. "I must do something. Now, mine is an analytical mind, Mr. Rainsford. Doubtless that is why I enjoy the problems of the chase."

"No doubt, General Zaroff."

"So," continued the general, "I asked myself why the hunt no longer fascinated me. You are much younger than I am, Mr. Rainsford, and have not hunted as much, but you perhaps can guess the answer."

"What was it?"

"Simply this: hunting had ceased to be what you call `a sporting proposition.' It had become too easy. I always got my quarry. Always. There is no greater bore than perfection."

The general lit a fresh cigarette.

"No animal had a chance with me any more. That is no boast; it is a mathematical certainty. The animal had nothing but his legs and his instinct. Instinct is no match for reason. When I thought of this it was a tragic moment for me, I can tell you."

Rainsford leaned across the table, absorbed in what his host was saying.

"It came to me as an inspiration what I must do," the general went on.

"And that was?"

The general smiled the quiet smile of one who has faced an obstacle and surmounted it with success. "I had to invent a new animal to hunt," he said.

"A new animal? You're joking." "Not at all," said the general. "I never joke about hunting. I needed a new animal. I found one. So I bought this island built this house, and here I do my hunting. The island is perfect for my purposes--there are jungles with a maze of traits in them, hills, swamps--"

"But the animal, General Zaroff?"

"Oh," said the general, "it supplies me with the most exciting hunting in the world. No other hunting compares with it for an instant. Every day I hunt, and I never grow bored now, for I have a quarry with which I can match my wits."

Rainsford's bewilderment showed in his face.

"I wanted the ideal animal to hunt," explained the general. "So I said, `What are the attributes of an ideal quarry?' And the answer was, of course, `It must have courage, cunning, and, above all, it must be able to reason."'

"But no animal can reason," objected Rainsford.

"My dear fellow," said the general, "there is one that can."

"But you can't mean--" gasped Rainsford.

"And why not?"

"I can't believe you are serious, General Zaroff. This is a grisly joke."

"Why should I not be serious? I am speaking of hunting."

"Hunting? Great Guns, General Zaroff, what you speak of is murder."

The general laughed with entire good nature. He regarded Rainsford quizzically. "I refuse to believe that so modern and civilized a young man as you seem to be harbors romantic ideas about the value of human life. Surely your experiences in the war--"

"Did not make me condone cold-blooded murder," finished Rainsford stiffly.

Laughter shook the general. "How extraordinarily droll you are!" he said. "One does not expect nowadays to find a young man of the educated class, even in America, with such a naive, and, if I may say so, mid-Victorian point of view. It's like finding a snuffbox in a limousine. Ah, well, doubtless you had Puritan ancestors. So many Americans appear to have had. I'll wager you'll forget your notions when you go hunting with me. You've a genuine new thrill in store for you, Mr. Rainsford."

"Thank you, I'm a hunter, not a murderer."

"Dear me," said the general, quite unruffled, "again that unpleasant word. But I think I can show you that your scruples are quite ill founded."

"Yes?"

"Life is for the strong, to be lived by the strong, and, if needs be, taken by the strong. The weak of the world were put here to give the strong pleasure. I am strong. Why should I not use my gift? If I wish to hunt, why should I not? I hunt the scum of the earth: sailors from tramp ships--lassars, blacks, Chinese, whites, mongrels--a thoroughbred horse or hound is worth more than a score of them."

"But they are men," said Rainsford hotly.

"Precisely," said the general. "That is why I use them. It gives me pleasure. They can reason, after a fashion. So they are dangerous."

"But where do you get them?"

The general's left eyelid fluttered down in a wink. "This island is called Ship Trap," he answered. "Sometimes an angry god of the high seas sends them to me. Sometimes, when Providence is not so kind, I help Providence a bit. Come to the window with me."

Rainsford went to the window and looked out toward the sea.

"Watch! Out there!" exclaimed the general, pointing into the night. Rainsford's eyes saw only blackness, and then, as the general pressed a button, far out to sea Rainsford saw the flash of lights.

The general chuckled. "They indicate a channel," he said, "where there's none; giant rocks with razor edges crouch like a sea monster with wide-open jaws. They can crush a ship as easily as I crush this nut." He dropped a walnut on the hardwood floor and brought his heel grinding down on it. "Oh, yes," he said, casually, as if in answer to a question, "I have electricity. We try to be civilized here."

"Civilized? And you shoot down men?"

A trace of anger was in the general's black eyes, but it was there for but a second; and he said, in his most pleasant manner, "Dear me, what a righteous young man you are! I assure you I do not do the thing you suggest. That would be barbarous. I treat these visitors with every consideration. They get plenty of good food and exercise. They get into splendid physical condition. You shall see for yourself tomorrow."

"What do you mean?"

"We'll visit my training school," smiled the general. "It's in the cellar. I have about a dozen pupils down there now. They're from the Spanish bark San Lucar that had the bad luck to go on the rocks out there. A very inferior lot, I regret to say. Poor specimens and more accustomed to the deck than to the jungle." He raised his hand, and Ivan, who served as waiter, brought thick Turkish coffee. Rainsford, with an effort, held his tongue in check.

"It's a game, you see," pursued the general blandly. "I suggest to one of them that we go hunting. I give him a supply of food and an excellent hunting knife. I give him three hours' start. I am to follow, armed only with a pistol of the smallest caliber and range. If my quarry eludes me for three whole days, he wins the game. If I find him "--the general smiled--" he loses."

"Suppose he refuses to be hunted?"

"Oh," said the general, "I give him his option, of course. He need not play that game if he doesn't wish to. If he does not wish to hunt, I turn him over to Ivan. Ivan once had the honor of serving as official knouter to the Great White Czar, and he has his own ideas of sport. Invariably, Mr. Rainsford, invariably they choose the hunt."

"And if they win?"

The smile on the general's face widened. "To date I have not lost," he said. Then he added, hastily: "I don't wish you to think me a braggart, Mr. Rainsford. Many of them afford only the most elementary sort of problem. Occasionally I strike a tartar. One almost did win. I eventually had to use the dogs."

"The dogs?"

"This way, please. I'll show you."

The general steered Rainsford to a window. The lights from the windows sent a flickering illumination that made grotesque patterns on the courtyard below, and Rainsford could see moving about there a dozen or so huge black shapes; as they turned toward him, their eyes glittered greenly.

"A rather good lot, I think," observed the general. "They are let out at seven every night. If anyone should try to get into my house--or out of it--something extremely regrettable would occur to him." He hummed a snatch of song from the Folies Bergere.

"And now," said the general, "I want to show you my new collection of heads. Will you come with me to the library?"

"I hope," said Rainsford, "that you will excuse me tonight, General Zaroff. I'm really not feeling well."

"Ah, indeed?" the general inquired solicitously. "Well, I suppose that's only natural, after your long swim. You need a good, restful night's sleep. Tomorrow you'll feel like a new man, I'll wager. Then we'll hunt, eh? I've one rather promising prospect--" Rainsford was hurrying from the room.

"Sorry you can't go with me tonight," called the general. "I expect rather fair sport--a big, strong, black. He looks resourceful--Well, good night, Mr. Rainsford; I hope you have a good night's rest."

The bed was good, and the pajamas of the softest silk, and he was tired in every fiber of his being, but nevertheless Rainsford could not quiet his brain with the opiate of sleep. He lay, eyes wide open. Once he thought he heard stealthy steps in the corridor outside his room. He sought to throw open the door; it would not open. He went to the window and looked out. His room was high up in one of the towers. The lights of the chateau were out now, and it was dark and silent; but there was a fragment of sallow moon, and by its wan light he could see, dimly, the courtyard. There, weaving in and out in the pattern of shadow, were black, noiseless forms; the hounds heard him at the window and looked up, expectantly, with their green eyes. Rainsford went back to the bed and lay down. By many methods he tried to put himself to sleep. He had achieved a doze when, just as morning began to come, he heard, far off in the jungle, the faint report of a pistol.

General Zaroff did not appear until luncheon. He was dressed faultlessly in the tweeds of a country squire. He was solicitous about the state of Rainsford's health.

"As for me," sighed the general, "I do not feel so well. I am worried, Mr. Rainsford. Last night I detected traces of my old complaint."

To Rainsford's questioning glance the general said, "Ennui. Boredom."

Then, taking a second helping of crêpes Suzette, the general explained: "The hunting was not good last night. The fellow lost his head. He made a straight trail that offered no problems at all. That's the trouble with these sailors; they have dull brains to begin with, and they do not know how to get about in the woods. They do excessively stupid and obvious things. It's most annoying. Will you have another glass of Chablis, Mr. Rainsford?"

"General," said Rainsford firmly, "I wish to leave this island at once."

The general raised his thickets of eyebrows; he seemed hurt. "But, my dear fellow," the general protested, "you've only just come. You've had no hunting--"

"I wish to go today," said Rainsford. He saw the dead black eyes of the general on him, studying him. General Zaroff's face suddenly brightened.

He filled Rainsford's glass with venerable Chablis from a dusty bottle.

"Tonight," said the general, "we will hunt--you and I."

Rainsford shook his head. "No, general," he said. "I will not hunt."

The general shrugged his shoulders and delicately ate a hothouse grape. "As you wish, my friend," he said. "The choice rests entirely with you. But may I not venture to suggest that you will find my idea of sport more diverting than Ivan's?"

He nodded toward the corner to where the giant stood, scowling, his thick arms crossed on his hogshead of chest.

"You don't mean--" cried Rainsford.

"My dear fellow," said the general, "have I not told you I always mean what I say about hunting? This is really an inspiration. I drink to a foeman worthy of my steel--at last." The general raised his glass, but Rainsford sat staring at him.

"You'll find this game worth playing," the general said enthusiastically." Your brain against mine. Your woodcraft against mine. Your strength and stamina against mine. Outdoor chess! And the stake is not without value, eh?"

"And if I win--" began Rainsford huskily.

"I'll cheerfully acknowledge myself defeat if I do not find you by midnight of the third day," said General Zaroff. "My sloop will place you on the mainland near a town." The general read what Rainsford was thinking.

"Oh, you can trust me," said the Cossack. "I will give you my word as a gentleman and a sportsman. Of course you, in turn, must agree to say nothing of your visit here."

"I'll agree to nothing of the kind," said Rainsford.

"Oh," said the general, "in that case--But why discuss that now? Three days hence we can discuss it over a bottle of Veuve Cliquot, unless--"

The general sipped his wine.

Then a businesslike air animated him. "Ivan," he said to Rainsford, "will supply you with hunting clothes, food, a knife. I suggest you wear moccasins; they leave a poorer trail. I suggest, too, that you avoid the big swamp in the southeast corner of the island. We call it Death Swamp. There's quicksand there. One foolish fellow tried it. The deplorable part of it was that Lazarus followed him. You can imagine my feelings, Mr. Rainsford. I loved Lazarus; he was the finest hound in my pack. Well, I must beg you to excuse me now. I always' take a siesta after lunch. You'll hardly have time for a nap, I fear. You'll want to start, no doubt. I shall not follow till dusk. Hunting at night is so much more exciting than by day, don't you think? Au revoir, Mr. Rainsford, au revoir." General Zaroff, with a deep, courtly bow, strolled from the room.

From another door came Ivan. Under one arm he carried khaki hunting clothes, a haversack of food, a leather sheath containing a long-bladed hunting knife; his right hand rested on a cocked revolver thrust in the crimson sash about his waist.

Rainsford had fought his way through the bush for two hours. "I must keep my nerve. I must keep my nerve," he said through tight teeth.

He had not been entirely clearheaded when the chateau gates snapped shut behind him. His whole idea at first was to put distance between himself and General Zaroff; and, to this end, he had plunged along, spurred on by the sharp rowers of something very like panic. Now he had got a grip on himself, had stopped, and was taking stock of himself and the situation. He saw that straight flight was futile; inevitably it would bring him face to face with the sea. He was in a picture with a frame of water, and his operations, clearly, must take place within that frame.

"I'll give him a trail to follow," muttered Rainsford, and he struck off from the rude path he had been following into the trackless wilderness. He executed a series of intricate loops; he doubled on his trail again and again, recalling all the lore of the fox hunt, and all the dodges of the fox. Night found him leg-weary, with hands and face lashed by the branches, on a thickly wooded ridge. He knew it would be insane to blunder on through the dark, even if he had the strength. His need for rest was imperative and he thought, "I have played the fox, now I must play the cat of the fable." A big tree with a thick trunk and outspread branches was near by, and, taking care to leave not the slightest mark, he climbed up into the crotch, and, stretching out on one of the broad limbs, after a fashion, rested. Rest brought him new confidence and almost a feeling of security. Even so zealous a hunter as General Zaroff could not trace him there, he told himself; only the devil himself could follow that complicated trail through the jungle after dark. But perhaps the general was a devil--

An apprehensive night crawled slowly by like a wounded snake and sleep did not visit Rainsford, although the silence of a dead world was on the jungle. Toward morning when a dingy gray was varnishing the sky, the cry of some startled bird focused Rainsford's attention in that direction. Something was coming through the bush, coming slowly, carefully, coming by the same winding way Rainsford had come. He flattened himself down on the limb and, through a screen of leaves almost as thick as tapestry, he watched. . . . That which was approaching was a man.

It was General Zaroff. He made his way along with his eyes fixed in utmost concentration on the ground before him. He paused, almost beneath the tree, dropped to his knees and studied the ground. Rainsford's impulse was to hurl himself down like a panther, but he saw that the general's right hand held something metallic--a small automatic pistol.

The hunter shook his head several times, as if he were puzzled. Then he straightened up and took from his case one of his black cigarettes; its pungent incenselike smoke floated up to Rainsford's nostrils.

Rainsford held his breath. The general's eyes had left the ground and were traveling inch by inch up the tree. Rainsford froze there, every muscle tensed for a spring. But the sharp eyes of the hunter stopped before they reached the limb where Rainsford lay; a smile spread over his brown face. Very deliberately he blew a smoke ring into the air; then he turned his back on the tree and walked carelessly away, back along the trail he had come. The swish of the underbrush against his hunting boots grew fainter and fainter.

The pent-up air burst hotly from Rainsford's lungs. His first thought made him feel sick and numb. The general could follow a trail through the woods at night; he could follow an extremely difficult trail; he must have uncanny powers; only by the merest chance had the Cossack failed to see his quarry.

Rainsford's second thought was even more terrible. It sent a shudder of cold horror through his whole being. Why had the general smiled? Why had he turned back?

Rainsford did not want to believe what his reason told him was true, but the truth was as evident as the sun that had by now pushed through the morning mists. The general was playing with him! The general was saving him for another day's sport! The Cossack was the cat; he was the mouse. Then it was that Rainsford knew the full meaning of terror.

"I will not lose my nerve. I will not."

He slid down from the tree, and struck off again into the woods. His face was set and he forced the machinery of his mind to function. Three hundred yards from his hiding place he stopped where a huge dead tree leaned precariously on a smaller, living one. Throwing off his sack of food, Rainsford took his knife from its sheath and began to work with all his energy.

The job was finished at last, and he threw himself down behind a fallen log a hundred feet away. He did not have to wait long. The cat was coming again to play with the mouse.

Following the trail with the sureness of a bloodhound came General Zaroff. Nothing escaped those searching black eyes, no crushed blade of grass, no bent twig, no mark, no matter how faint, in the moss. So intent was the Cossack on his stalking that he was upon the thing Rainsford had made before he saw it. His foot touched the protruding bough that was the trigger. Even as he touched it, the general sensed his danger and leaped back with the agility of an ape. But he was not quite quick enough; the dead tree, delicately adjusted to rest on the cut living one, crashed down and struck the general a glancing blow on the shoulder as it fell; but for his alertness, he must have been smashed beneath it. He staggered, but he did not fall; nor did he drop his revolver. He stood there, rubbing his injured shoulder, and Rainsford, with fear again gripping his heart, heard the general's mocking laugh ring through the jungle.

"Rainsford," called the general, "if you are within sound of my voice, as I suppose you are, let me congratulate you. Not many men know how to make a Malay mancatcher. Luckily for me I, too, have hunted in Malacca. You are proving interesting, Mr. Rainsford. I am going now to have my wound dressed; it's only a slight one. But I shall be back. I shall be back."

When the general, nursing his bruised shoulder, had gone, Rainsford took up his flight again. It was flight now, a desperate, hopeless flight, that carried him on for some hours. Dusk came, then darkness, and still he pressed on. The ground grew softer under his moccasins; the vegetation grew ranker, denser; insects bit him savagely.

Then, as he stepped forward, his foot sank into the ooze. He tried to wrench it back, but the muck sucked viciously at his foot as if it were a giant leech. With a violent effort, he tore his feet loose. He knew where he was now. Death Swamp and its quicksand.

His hands were tight closed as if his nerve were something tangible that someone in the darkness was trying to tear from his grip. The softness of the earth had given him an idea. He stepped back from the quicksand a dozen feet or so and, like some huge prehistoric beaver, he began to dig.

Rainsford had dug himself in in France when a second's delay meant death. That had been a placid pastime compared to his digging now. The pit grew deeper; when it was above his shoulders, he climbed out and from some hard saplings cut stakes and sharpened them to a fine point. These stakes he planted in the bottom of the pit with the points sticking up. With flying fingers he wove a rough carpet of weeds and branches and with it he covered the mouth of the pit. Then, wet with sweat and aching with tiredness, he crouched behind the stump of a lightning-charred tree.

He knew his pursuer was coming; he heard the padding sound of feet on the soft earth, and the night breeze brought him the perfume of the general's cigarette. It seemed to Rainsford that the general was coming with unusual swiftness; he was not feeling his way along, foot by foot. Rainsford, crouching there, could not see the general, nor could he see the pit. He lived a year in a minute. Then he felt an impulse to cry aloud with joy, for he heard the sharp crackle of the breaking branches as the cover of the pit gave way; he heard the sharp scream of pain as the pointed stakes found their mark. He leaped up from his place of concealment. Then he cowered back. Three feet from the pit a man was standing, with an electric torch in his hand.

"You've done well, Rainsford," the voice of the general called. "Your Burmese tiger pit has claimed one of my best dogs. Again you score. I think, Mr. Rainsford, Ill see what you can do against my whole pack. I'm going home for a rest now. Thank you for a most amusing evening."

At daybreak Rainsford, lying near the swamp, was awakened by a sound that made him know that he had new things to learn about fear. It was a distant sound, faint and wavering, but he knew it. It was the baying of a pack of hounds.

Rainsford knew he could do one of two things. He could stay where he was and wait. That was suicide. He could flee. That was postponing the inevitable. For a moment he stood there, thinking. An idea that held a wild chance came to him, and, tightening his belt, he headed away from the swamp.

The baying of the hounds drew nearer, then still nearer, nearer, ever nearer. On a ridge Rainsford climbed a tree. Down a watercourse, not a quarter of a mile away, he could see the bush moving. Straining his eyes, he saw the lean figure of General Zaroff; just ahead of him Rainsford made out another figure whose wide shoulders surged through the tall jungle weeds; it was the giant Ivan, and he seemed pulled forward by some unseen force; Rainsford knew that Ivan must be holding the pack in leash.

They would be on him any minute now. His mind worked frantically. He thought of a native trick he had learned in Uganda. He slid down the tree. He caught hold of a springy young sapling and to it he fastened his hunting knife, with the blade pointing down the trail; with a bit of wild grapevine he tied back the sapling. Then he ran for his life. The hounds raised their voices as they hit the fresh scent. Rainsford knew now how an animal at bay feels.

He had to stop to get his breath. The baying of the hounds stopped abruptly, and Rainsford's heart stopped too. They must have reached the knife.

He shinned excitedly up a tree and looked back. His pursuers had stopped. But the hope that was in Rainsford's brain when he climbed died, for he saw in the shallow valley that General Zaroff was still on his feet. But Ivan was not. The knife, driven by the recoil of the springing tree, had not wholly failed.

Rainsford had hardly tumbled to the ground when the pack took up the cry again.

"Nerve, nerve, nerve!" he panted, as he dashed along. A blue gap showed between the trees dead ahead. Ever nearer drew the hounds. Rainsford forced himself on toward that gap. He reached it. It was the shore of the sea. Across a cove he could see the gloomy gray stone of the chateau. Twenty feet below him the sea rumbled and hissed. Rainsford hesitated. He heard the hounds. Then he leaped far out into the sea. . . .

When the general and his pack reached the place by the sea, the Cossack stopped. For some minutes he stood regarding the blue-green expanse of water. He shrugged his shoulders. Then be sat down, took a drink of brandy from a silver flask, lit a cigarette, and hummed a bit from Madame Butterfly.

General Zaroff had an exceedingly good dinner in his great paneled dining hall that evening. With it he had a bottle of Pol Roger and half a bottle of Chambertin. Two slight annoyances kept him from perfect enjoyment. One was the thought that it would be difficult to replace Ivan; the other was that his quarry had escaped him; of course, the American hadn't played the game--so thought the general as he tasted his after-dinner liqueur. In his library he read, to soothe himself, from the works of Marcus Aurelius. At ten he went up to his bedroom. He was deliciously tired, he said to himself, as he locked himself in. There was a little moonlight, so, before turning on his light, he went to the window and looked down at the courtyard. He could see the great hounds, and he called, "Better luck another time," to them. Then he switched on the light.

A man, who had been hiding in the curtains of the bed, was standing there.

"Rainsford!" screamed the general. "How in God's name did you get here?"

"Swam," said Rainsford. "I found it quicker than walking through the jungle."

The general sucked in his breath and smiled. "I congratulate you," he said. "You have won the game."

Rainsford did not smile. "I am still a beast at bay," he said, in a low, hoarse voice. "Get ready, General Zaroff."

The general made one of his deepest bows. "I see," he said. "Splendid! One of us is to furnish a repast for the hounds. The other will sleep in this very excellent bed. On guard, Rainsford." . . .

He had never slept in a better bed, Rainsford decided.

OCC: Bump

Dirk Pitt:

Age: 23

Hair: Blonde short and somewhat dirty

Eye: Blue

Married: No

Physical Description: In a good phyiscal condition

Height: 5'9"

Weight: 175 lbs.

Occupation: Computer Hacker

Carries a gun: No.

Personality: Kind, Brash, and nervous

Attire: Wears shorts, t-shirt, and sunglasses

Hunter: Negative.

Bio: Dirk at the age of 15 became one of the foremost computer hackers of the world. When he was caught the government said either go to prision for eight years or take a job in the government. Dirk now works as a Computer Hacker in the government. He is usually busy and is happy now that he has a vacation.

Leah Walsh

Age: 18

Hair: Blonde, short

Eye: Blue

Married: No

Physical Description: Built like a recon soldier

Height: 5'9"

Weight: 155 lbs.

Occupation: Soldier (Infantry/Recon).

Carries a gun: Browning GP 9mm

Personality: Kind, tough, strong

Attire: Wears camo pants (cut off midway down the shin), a bikini top, and a pair of blast goggles.

Hunter: No.

Bio: Leah joined the LNI Kerns when she was 16. Fought in several battles against Kraven, is the only person known to have been captured by the Corporation and survived. She still bears damage from this incident: She has a large piece of skin missing from her left collarbone, and lacks her upper-left canine. She was given leave after her ordeal, and was put on this Pacific yacht.

Note: If you remember the Kraven-Pythogrian war that got ret-conned, she was the Irish soldier who got captured.

BUHP!
Bring
Up
His
Post

When's this launch?

As Stone boarded the plane he looked back...something gave him an uneasy feeling...ah, well he shrugged it off. The plane sped toward the island. *PLEASE MISTER RP-STARTER GIVE US A DISCREPTION OF THE PLACE!* Conversation begins on the plane.

I'll start the rp if no one else signs-up. I guess I'll need to double as one of the wealthy businessmen who hunt people.

Name: Wolfgang Wolverstone.

Gender: Male

Age: Unknown

Hair: Black with red streaks

Eye: Black

Married: No

Physical Description: Muscular, but also somewhat limber.

Height: 5'10"

Weight: 200 lbs.

Occupation: Hit man

Weapons:2 IMI DesertEagles .50 Magnum, SA 80, H&K MP5, 2 H&K MP5Ks, and a combat knife.

Personality: Gruff, merceyless

Attire: Wears Tight black with bits and peices of battle armor.

Hunter: Affermative

Bio: known to be a hand to hand combat expert the rest is Unknown

Are you going to be a hunter?

Are you going to be a hunter?
Affermative means yes.

I don't suppose anyone could help with an island map...

I don't suppose anyone could help with an island map...
I'm sorry, I don't know how to post links.

Then maybe we could just wing it and I could describe the island later.

Sure

As Benjamin walk down the flight, his oldest son follow close behind, very quietly. Thadeus and Alex were chatting excitedly about this adventure. Oliver cut in front of them sneering, pulling his pants down a bit for looks. Jannet carried her light bags, filled: haircomb, hairdryer, some towels, sunscreen, cellphone (I'm guessing there will be a call dampner) , makeup, and an array of other objects. Daphine was watching the kids closely, making sure they didn't wander off.
"There it is!" he said pointing excitedly at the gigantic mansion. "Bummer" said Oliver "I can not frick'n beleive we're staying witha buncha freak'n stuffy rich people."

This isn't the main thread

This isn't the main thread
Oh, sign-up...I see.

Sam gets on to the plane while trying to avoid gaurds that would kill him if caught

OCC: Bump

Come on people, we need a few more people

Mister Dirk Pitt a hacker.

Hey, I posted an add for this post in my "Iced vs. Lemonade" poll under "General."

Hey, I posted an add for this post in my "Iced vs. Lemonade" poll under "General."

Sweet

wow, did some guy actualli paste the entire story of the most dangerous game? You should have just used a link bro. So any way wehn does this start?

I'll start the thread tomorrow

I guess we are waiting on more ppl...

OCC: Bump

Ive been waiting for this to launch, im impatient...the Halloween riots is turning out ok too...

Name: Maria Santiago
Age: 25
Gender: Hispanic female
Hair: Long and dark
Eyes: Dark brown
Weight: 125 Pounds
Height: 5 feet 6 inches
Physical discription: She's an athlete, with the body to go with it. Has a spanish acsent.

Bio: Kicked out of her home in Texas when she was 16, Maria has climbed her way from a poor hispanic girl to being at least for now, middle class. However, the young woman wants more and with her lust for all things material, greed, power and money she'll do anything to get it; even kill.
Personality: outwardly nice, kind and friendly as well as polite but innwardly she's always skeeming.
Hunter: Yes, although at first she was a bit put off but when she saw how much money she got for that person's life she was ok by it. She likes the chace, but it's the money for Maria.
If any more info is needed on Maria, just ask!

How does she go about hunting? what skills does she have...also we have to make sure our hunters don't wack eachother....they have to meet first...

Reallydrunk']How does she go about hunting? what skills does she have...also we have to make sure our hunters don't wack eachother....they have to meet first...

OOO, I didn't even think of that;meeting the other hunters I mean.
As for Maria's skills, she carries a gun;she usually hits targetsdead on. Although for her small frame, she is a good physical fighter. What she make lack in strength she makes up for in algity.

OK great, but yeah....our hunters will have to have a briefing for sure, because i want to know who my charactor will be aiming at through his PSG1 scope, aswell as stalking with his combat knife...he only resorts to his Glock .20 if he has nothing else...

anticipation....Anticipaaaation is making me wait. bum bum bum bum. sorry just excited. :D

Yeah I know, who would suspect a girl like Maria of being a hunter?
That's why I made her..it'll be interesting to see how she interacts with everyone.

True, i like it...

bump

OCC: Bump

OCC: Bump, I'll make the main thread soon enoguh, your patience shall be rewarded.

Alright!

I will have the thread start out as everyone is boarding the ship to the island.

Hunters too?

The hunters will already be on the island. I just made the main rp. I will also rp as one of the wealthy men, someone else can as well.

Yes! I am going to post ASAP...

Attention everybody: I want the hunters to be the people with most of the military training.

My guy has special training...he's very good at his trade...and knows how to make it interesting.

Dirk Pitt:

Age: 23

Hair: Blonde short and somewhat dirty

Eye: Blue

Married: No

Physical Description: In a good phyiscal condition

Height: 5'9"

Weight: 175 lbs.

Occupation: Computer Hacker

Carries a gun: No.

Personality: Kind, Brash, and nervous

Attire: Wears shorts, t-shirt, and sunglasses

Hunter: Negative.

Bio: Dirk at the age of 15 became one of the foremost computer hackers of the world. When he was caught the government said either go to prision for eight years or take a job in the government. Dirk now works as a Computer Hacker in the government. He is usually busy and is happy now that he has a vacation.

ARGH ARGH CLIVE CUSSTLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Dirk is the most rediculous hero I have ever read.
Let me think of some great examples:

Escapes from an island in a bath tub
Is aged 60 but regularly pulls women aged 20ish.

aw man......I hate that guy, but I hate not being able to remember other rediculous circumstances.

Link to main thread

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=482894

Tarayshia, doesn't your character seem a bit young to be doing this?

Tarayshia, doesn't your character seem a bit young to be doing this?

I could change her age to in her 20's if you want...but yeah;looking that over perhaps..

It would make more sense to make her older. I'll leave the exact age up to you.

I edited her age;she's now 25 is that better?

I hope those playing the hunted read my one post. I don't want those who are playing the hunted to have military experience. That would make it uninteresting. I'll allow police backrounds and stuff along those lines.

I edited her age;she's now 25 is that better?

That's good. Makes it more believeable.

I hope those playing the hunted read my one post. I don't want those who are playing the hunted to have military experience. That would make it uninteresting. I'll allow police backrounds and stuff along those lines.
Hang on, my character has military experience, but it wouldn't make any sense for her to be one of the hunters.
On the other hand, she served in a Volunteer unit, so its not like she's Special Forces (or even US Infantry quality).
Is this ok?

If she's a hunter then I'll allow military stuff. If not, then I'll let some experience.

If not, then I'll let some experience.
Rephrase that, please?

Your character seems to young to have combat experience.

Your character seems to young to have combat experience.
Citizens in my nation can be recruited at age 15, to curb the widespread unemployment of my overpopulated cities.

I don't want the hunted players to be like these special ops trained killers. I want them for the most part to be average people. Your character can have a law enforcement backround, like mine. I'll allow her to be military if you make her older, but no special ops.

I don't want the hunted players to be like these special ops trained killers. I want them for the most part to be average people. Your character can have a law enforcement backround, like mine. I'll allow her to be military if you make her older, but no special ops.
(I already said that she only served in a Volunteer unit, not special forces or anything. She's recieved a two-week crash course in weapons and survival training, and is only equipped with a sidearm.)
What is your minimum age requirement?

If she's seventeen, she should have an adult with her, for her safety :D . At 18, can be by herself. Bump the age up and I'll allow it or change her backround, sorry.

Alright, I bumped the age.

Alright, then I'll allow her limited military experience.

Can I include someone from my nation? He WILL be military, but not special ops - just an infantry sniper. He has battlefield experience, and he's good at hiding, but only as much as you need on a battlefield. He is not used to being hunted.

Sergeant Ken Waldbaum:
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Hair: Sandy.
Married: Nope, not yet.
Physical Description: Spry.
Height: 1.7 meters.
Weight: 50 kilos.
Occupation: Soldier - battlefield sniper (featured in the New Crystal Isles revolt here: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=452562&page=5)
Carries a gun: Yeah - military issued pistol.
Personality: Smart, cautious, paranoid as hell.
Attire: For this, a Mirkanan Military t-shirt and combat shorts, though he always packs a bulletproof vest 'just in case' (did I mention he's paranoid?)
Hunter: Negative. Remmol would never hear of Mirkanan soldiers hunting humans. Though if he can get a gun he will take sweet pleasure in hunting the hunters.

More military experience, but not "special ops". In real-world terms, would you allow a Marine fresh home from Iraq? Waldbaum is a front-line soldier - he just happens to be a sniper (we have a lot of those in the Mirkanan Military).

Sounds good, but he will be disarmed of course...i dunno where he would get a rifle unless he some how managed to out smart my charactor who is Ex-military special Ops...unless some one else got a sniper rifle..

As for the vest..i am not sure if they would find that or not..

Bump

I figured that he would be disarmed of his gun. BTW, he also has a combat knife.

I'll join the RP now. Waldbaum is just arriving...

Change your character. Drop the kevlar and military backround. Only the hunters can have military backrounds. I want average joes to be the hunted.

I thought you said that... oh, wait, that wasn't you. Unfortunately, ALL Mirkanans have military backgrounds.

Would someone in the reserves (ie not a career soldier) be an acceptable substitute?

On second thought, probably not, given the high caliber of ALL Mirkanan soldiers.

I think I'll pull Mirkana out of this RP, and bring in a puppet state instead - The Far Realms.

He he he...

I thought you said that... oh, wait, that wasn't you. Unfortunately, ALL Mirkanans have military backgrounds.

Would someone in the reserves (ie not a career soldier) be an acceptable substitute?

On second thought, probably not, given the high caliber of ALL Mirkanan soldiers.

I think I'll pull Mirkana out of this RP, and bring in a puppet state instead - The Far Realms.

He he he...

No military backround...this is non-negotiable

OK, I'll try someone from the Far Realms.

Just to remind everyone, I am the same person as Mirkana. Just a different nation. WAY different. Say goodbye to military discipline and sane dictators, and hello to servants of Great Cthulhu. You guys thought Ken Waldbaum was dangerous - you haven't met Sari Ehat. At least Waldbaum was sane. No such luck with Ehat.

Sari Ehat
Gender: Female
Age: 19
Hair: Black.
Married: No.
Physical Description: Dark-skinned, a total knockout.
Height: 1.5 meters.
Weight: 140 lbs.
Occupation: Federal employee. Which in the Far Realms means evil cultist.
Carries a gun: No - she prefers close-in weapons.
Personality: Psychotically evil, but good at hiding it.
Attire: Pretty skimpy. She's Polynesian in background, so she'll sunbathe topless.
Agenda: Cause general terror and trauma among the vacationers, then recruit the survivors as Cthulhu cultists. She's not a hunter (she's totally clueless on this point) but she is a thousand times as evil as they are.

Is this OK? She doesn't have any sort of training save some on-the-job experience.

I will allow your character. Just change her backround, doesn't sound like an average joe. Perhaps you could make her a college student or something?

Change your character. Drop the kevlar and military backround. Only the hunters can have military backrounds. I want average joes to be the hunted.
But *sniff* Benjamin has a military background, can't he STILL be an avarage joe?

Just as long as it's not special forces. I want to see how regular people would fair against expert hunters. I don't expect many of us to survive.

How old are the kids in your group?

I think it's slightly odd that some charactors have a military back ground..that are not hunters...i think the should be limited to minimal experiance, maybe military school grads or somthing, some could have been in wars before but it's becomming way to common i think..

How old are the kids in your group?
Jannet is 22, Benjamin Jr. 19, Oliver 17, Thadues 13, and Alex is 10.

I guess a few escaped my sight. Don't worry, I will keep a strict and careful eye once the hunt begins. Godmodding will be punished by death.

Jannet is 22, Benjamin Jr. 19, Oliver 17, Thadues 13, and Alex is 10.

Then Alex and my one character Danny (10) will be kept in the mansion. The others are gonna get one hell of an exercise.

The hunters will last longer than the hunted. I'll decide when and if a hunter can be killed off, depends on the situation that they are in. You get what I mean.

Got yah, it makes sence...if it's a pretty good way to nail one it should be alright.. lol

Yep

Muhahaha, it won't be mine ;)

We'll see what happens.

Im just being cocky :)

The hunters will last longer than the hunted. I'll decide when and if a hunter can be killed off, depends on the situation that they are in. You get what I mean.
So basicly, you're "God" in the RP sense. Shall I pray for my characters? And please, if they die, let me describe their deaths.

The hunters will last longer than the hunted. I'll decide when and if a hunter can be killed off, depends on the situation that they are in. You get what I mean.
So probably the hunted...at least a few of them will live, and the huters will "lose"...whatever "losing" is...

We'll see what happens. If your character's in a position where he's most likely to be killed then yes, you will probably die. The hunter will kill you. I'm going to be like God and not do anything to stop it :D

So probably the hunted...at least a few of them will live, and the huters will "lose"...whatever "losing" is...

I don't know what will happen. The hunted may lose, the hunters may lose, we'll see.

Ahaha, i love it....o yeah and whats..loose again? LOL

The key thing is, Ehat has no special forces training. She's just EVIL and INSANE and PSYCHOTIC and HOT. Honestly enough, she probably won't survive. She is no average joe, but she is not a trained military agent. She just acts like one. In combat, she won't last.

Oh, and if she can, she will make the kids priority targets. Her whole aim is to cause mega trauma and terror. And what better then to kill a child in an unspeakably gruesome and evil way? And display the mutilated body in public? And leave a video of the execution (she has a small video camera with her)?

Just to warn you, Ehat's exploits will be REALLY graphic and disturbing. I won't reveal the details yet, but it won't be pretty.

OCC: Okay, make your occ posts here

Can you answer my question Kulikovo. Will you forgive me?

She's just EVIL and INSANE and PSYCHOTIC and HOT.
Had a girlfriend like that once :D

OOC: This is unrealistic. He's a muscle-bound gun-totting hit-man. And just how big of a rock could you possibly throw?
Clarify, please.

This is NOT D&D
This doesn't make sense. I am asking Tarayshia to tell me how Maria is doing. Is she dead? Mortally wounded? Just pissed off?

This doesn't make sense. I am asking Tarayshia to tell me how Maria is doing. Is she dead? Mortally wounded? Just pissed off?

I was chatting with Tarayshia, she's away from the computer right now, I think

Will you forgive me please?

I sent you a telegram, read it and learn.

thank you. also i will learn from it.

nathan staggered to his feet. The woman ignored her attack entirely. he siexed her and crashed her head against the cave wall, trying to kill her. His ribbs ached with pain.
Godmod.

Godmod.

Godmod? You aren't even attacking Nathan. I didn't say I killed you

You can't just say that you were seized her without giving her a chance.

You can't just say that you were seized her without giving her a chance.

Canadstein, this misunderstanding is between me and The Far Realms

Actually it's The Far Realms.

Actually it's The Far Realms.

OCC: Sorry, I was thinking of one of Parkus Empire's posts.

BTW, everyone, I gotta go for a few minutes. My Kung Pao is here.

Sounds delicious

Its fine. Also in occ threads you don't need to say ooc.

The Far Realms, are you going to say anything?

Its fine. Also in occ threads you don't need to say ooc.

I'm not apologizing to you. I was apologizing to The Far Realms.

okay I really don't care.

Stop This Unrealistic Stupidity!! Please Mister Moderater, This Fight With Leah!

Stop This Unrealistic Stupidity!! Please Mister Moderater, This Fight With Leah!
What the hell are you talking about?

Stop insulting one another, I'm not taking sides.

Please Moderater shoot-off Godmodders!!! Have the hunters kill!

I am going to intervene in a way that will keep both of you happy. I'm using my reset button. Leah shall have not been fighting Wolverstone. She will be hiding somewhere in the brush. Your two characters never fought, how's that?

Except that would leave neither of us happy, since we both want each other dead.

You will both live to die another day

How about I kill his godmoding ass right now?

Another insult from either of you will result in expulsion!

Another insult from either of you will result in expulsion!
Neither of us insulted each other ONCE!
Oh, wait. I DID call him a jackass because he ignored my post and he was godmoding.

How about I kill his godmoding ass right now?

What is this then?

What is this then?
That's a question, not an insult.

That's a question, not an insult.

You honestly expect me to believe that? Sure sounds like an insult. Now let's all forget about it. Liberated new Ireland, make a new post on the main thread. And you too Mr.Wolverine.

You honestly expect me to believe that? Sure sounds like an insult. Now let's all forget about it. Liberated new Ireland, make a new post on the main thread. And you too Wolverstone.
Tell me what I should post, since you seem set on doing that anyway.

Have Leah see the cave, hear the fighting and have her go the opposite way.

Have Leah see the cave, hear the fighting and have her go the opposite way.
Kuli, what's the point of freeform RP if you tell me what I can and can't do?

I'm trying to solve a problem in a way where both parties in conflct win.

I'm trying to solve a problem in a way where both parties in conflct win.
So, what am I allowed to do now?

Kulikovo, sorry for calling you a godmod. But I would like to point out that all you and Tarayshia have done is hit me with blunt weapons, while I have been using stone knives and an axe. Both your characters should have taken life-threatening wounds.

As for your conflict between Leah and Wolfman, I have another idea.

Kulikovo, you have Nathan run away from Ehat. Get Tarayshia to do the same with Maria, assuming Maria isn't dead. Or, given that Nathan can barely stand, have him die of his injuries.

Then I'll send Ehat out to kill Leah and Wolfman.

Kulikovo, you have Nathan run away from Ehat. Get Tarayshia to do the same with Maria, assuming Maria isn't dead. Or, given that Nathan can barely stand, have him die of his injuries.

Then I'll send Ehat out to kill Leah and Wolfman.
Wolfenstine will probably just godmod your death. I like your idea, though.

Interesting ideas, but I don't think those will work. It'll make you out to be killing everyone. That's almost godmodding. Besides, I'm not saying neither of us have taken injuries of which are serious. it's just that you act like a rock, regardless of its' sharpness can slit someone wide open, it's highly unlikely.

And any chance of Tarayshia posting soon? Or should I declare that I knock her out and have Ehat focus on Nathan again.

You even said your character has suffered alot of damage as well. She can't possibly have much strength left, regardless of how mad she is.

Interesting ideas, but I don't think those will work. It'll make you out to be killing everyone. That's almost godmodding. Besides, I'm not saying neither of us have taken injuries of which are serious. it's just that you act like a rock, regardless of its' sharpness can slit someone wide open, it's highly unlikely.
Two points:
1) It would actually be cool if the Cthulhu priestess massacres everyone.
2) Actually, humans used stone weapons to split each other open for thousands of years in prehistoric times, and people were tougher back then, too.

Obsidian rocks after being sharpened can. It was specified what kind of rock. I assumed she just picked up some rock. I'm sure people back in prehistoric times were tough, but this isn't that time and she's not a cavewoman.

1) It would actually be cool if the Cthulhu priestess massacres everyone.
That's what I had in mind. Besides, what is Wolverine thinking? This woman has crippled two of his fellow hunters already. He has to be insane to try and take her on in melee (though not as insane as she is).

And those were rock edges. Given the strength behind her blows (she's in a religiously motivated killing frenzy), they CAN - and do - split people open.

So, what am I allowed to do now?
My question has gone unanswered.

But your character suffered a devastating wound to the head. You even said she won't last long with all the blood. She isn't going to take out three hunters.

Obsidian rocks after being sharpened can. It was specified what kind of rock. I assumed she just picked up some rock. I'm sure people back in prehistoric times were tough, but this isn't that time and she's not a cavewoman.
She said she was using an axe, and since, as you said, it isn't prehistoric times, she would have an easier time killing people with it.

My question has gone unanswered.

Whatever floats your boat. Run off somewhere or something

Whatever floats your boat. Run off somewhere or something
"What floats my boat" would have been killing the Wolfman.

"What floats my boat" would have been killing the Wolfman.

Aside from that...for the time being

So... I'm basically not allowed to interact with the only people still posting at the moment.

I was just trying to end the argument. It's more realistic for your character to escape and hide. later, she can try to escape or kill someone.

OK, it looks like Ehat is going to die shortly. Wolfman shot me fair and square, and I took a mortal wound. Whether that wound will kill me before I kill Wolfman is still uncertain.
Besides, your hunters have sustained what could be critical injuries. Ironically, Ehat may have saved the lives of all the others.

I tried to have Maria be really beat up..with lots of bleeding and such to be fair.
I was out to dinner thus couldn't post..when I came back I reread everything that had happened.
What happens to those hunters that get beat up and such?

What happens to those hunters that get beat up and such?
Given the extent of their injuries, unless Wolverstone can call in a helicopter, I figure they will bleed to death. They DID get repeatedly hit by a stone axe, not to mention a few stone shards. I imagine they both have internal bleeding.

Oh, and yes, Ehat is dead. Wolverstone killed her. But she did deliver what could be mortal wounds to Nathan and Maria, and if the other survivors can get organized, they might be able to kill Wolverstone.

Once that happens, they will probably come to the cave, where they will find Ehat's body, along with her message. Her plan involved convincing those she did NOT kill that the only thing that could protect them was the power of Great Cthulhu. Her death may have done just that.

Will the survivors of this hunt become a new set of Cthulhu devotees?

The far Realms, thanks for playing. Your character was very interesting...and very dangerous.

Any chance I can sneak a character onto this island... maybe a James Bond sort? Perhaps a law enforcemnet officer who actually got selected to go to the island, because the hunters want a real good hunt?

Any chance I can sneak a character onto this island... maybe a James Bond sort? Perhaps a law enforcemnet officer who actually got selected to go to the island, because the hunters want a real good hunt?

I want a character who is an average joe, not someone who's a commando or something like that. You're pretty late in coming in.

I want a character who is an average joe, not someone who's a commando or something like that. You're pretty late in coming in.

Maybe an average joe with an air of heroism? Maybe with his wife... like they come on their honeymoon or something... lol.

Yes I'm late... but it looks interesting and since some characters are dying, introducing a few would keep this going.

I suppose you can play. But I'll be watching

LOL the hunters are worried that Maria the psycho will die.:D

I suppose you can play. But I'll be watching

Yeah... I know.

As a young couple on their honeymoon? Would that be acceptable?

Yes, that's just fine.

Damn, although not dead it looks like Maria is out for the rest of the hunt..i'm not sure.
I was looking forward to playing her to..she was my first evil character..but I play with the game..

Some of the hunted could come back to the mansion. The two young children are still there...

Hey, I don't have time to RP anymore tonight so tomorrow I will RP them on the island automatically. Do you have a map of it yet?

Use your imagination :D

Just to remind you, Nathan isn't much better than Maria. They've both sustained critical injuries.

I will post from time to time to offer my comments.

And yes, I had fun with Cthulhu-inspired mayhem. If you ever want another Sari Ehat in an RP, TG me. I have plenty of them.

I know they sustained bad injuries. I hope you enjoyed yourself on thie thread and if you have comments, put them on thie thread, not the main one.

Kuli, I'm sorry I fucked up your RP, but I think it's bull that you can tell me what I can and can't do with my character, and that you sided with a godmoder during our argument.
I think its safe to say that neither of us want Leah in the thread anymore, so I'll probably put a post in saying how she crept to the island edge and escaped on a raft or something.

Kuli, I'm sorry I fucked up your RP, but I think it's bull that you can tell me what I can and can't do with my character, and that you sided with a godmoder during our argument.
I think its safe to say that neither of us want Leah in the thread anymore, so I'll probably put a post in saying how she crept to the island edge and escaped on a raft or something.

You didn't mess up. I never said you could never kill Wolverstone. I just wanted to settle the dispute you two were having. I meant no ill will towards you. I want you to stay in the thread. I wasn't siding with him, I wans't siding with you. I jst didn't want you two trading insults and such. I did what I thought I had to do to stop the argument. Wolverstone isn't imortal or anything.

Well...
Do you mind if Leah joined in the fight between Sean and Thomas?
PS... ONE THOUSANDTH POST!!!

I already had Sean run off, sorry.

Yeah i am sorry about the dispute too i guess i got a little upset sorry i guess i was kinda godmoding without relizing sorry did not mean to