[M&M2e] Red Sands Chronicles

[Relique du Madde]

Warlords of the Red Sands
A Red Sands Chronicle.


CHAPTER I: A UNION AFFAIR ​

Premier Gibson slowly paced along the length of the Great Factory's balcony. To those who labored in the courtyard beneath him, his silhouette was nearly invisible because of the smoke and snow that wafted in the air, like ash from an erupting volcano. After a moment, the Premier paused as he glanced into the building's interior at an individual who silent orated a report. Unsatisfied with the news, the stout man raised raised his arm, signaling to his factory's foreman. In his other hand, he tightly gripped a microphone.

A moment later the Great Factory's whistle could be heard screeching throughout the labyrinthine streets of Victoria Town, a sound the echoed in even the furthest reaches of the city-state via its extensive network of loud speakers. Immediately after the whistle's minutes long bellow concluded, the Premier raise the microphone to his lips and began to speak. "Comrades, brothers and sisters, citizens and visitors of our Great City-State, Victoria Town; hear my voice, as I call upon the members of Local 310 for a mandatory gathering at our city's Grand Union Hall which shall occur at the 14th hour. Punishment for disobeying this decree without proper authorization will be swift and harsh. That is all."

On each following hour, the message was repeated.


As the 14th hour approached, you find yourselves scurrying through the Victoria Town's streets, on your way toward the Great Union Hall that lies at the northern edge of of the city-state's national square. Gathered outside the Union Hall's cyclopean gates is a group of about five hundred men, women, and children, the entire population of Victoria Town's Local 310, including a handful of travelers and migrants who were given housing within the local.


OOC: Essentially local 310 consists of everyone within two large apartment buildings in a city the size of Los Angeles County. This might suggest a larger population, especially considering that the Great Martian Cities combined has a population equal to the United States, however, there is a reason why this isn't the case.

Large areas of every Martian City are closed off, or are considered unfit for human life/use, and are abandoned. In the case of Victoria Town, many people are slowly being relocated into Martian Guild approved sectors of the city (often at their own expense). Local 310 lies in a region that is currenty being relocated.

The many of the derelict/abandoned buildings are routinely cannibalized for building materials, demolished, or are allowed to sit an rot. Unfortunately, the latter case tends to breed mutants, and other undesirable social elements.

Sadly, similar situations exist within every Great Martian City State.

 

[Blackrat]

Standing at the tip of small Watchmen Squad, Aeaxeos looks impressive. The Watchmen weren't small men by any means, but next to the Spartan they looked puny. He had removed his helmet for the moment and clipped it to the mag-lock on his hip. His face was stern but handsome. Like bronze statue, Aeaxeos surveyes the crowd, ever vigilant for troublemakers. For some reason those closest to him were not nearly as agitated than the rest of the crowd.

Aeaxeos was pretty sure this would be about moving the Local to the other side of Victoria. He had overseen purging of other Locals in the general area, so it only stands to reason that this too would meet the same fate. It was all the same to him. His quarters were assigned to 310, but his contract was nearly over and he could return to Olympia and report success.

 

[Voda Vosa]

Sahid had the premonition that he should allocate himself in that Local. And then, the next day of his arrival, this. It really seemed like his dream was speaking truth. The city was strange to him. Mars was strange to him. It would take him a couple of decades to get used to this deserted and barren land. But people, people were all the same. They will ever be.

As he waited in the main hall, his head was going over good pseudonyms. Moon knight? No, perhaps no one remembered the book Don Quijote, but he did. Mr. White? What was he playing? Clue?! No... He'll give The Ottoman a try.

As he wandered all that, people slowly surrounded him, waiting to see what was the calling for. Relocation? Perhaps. The Ottoman hoped for something much bigger.

 

[jkason]

As the 14th hour approached, you find yourselves scurrying through the Victoria Town's streets, on your way toward the Great Union Hall that lies at the northern edge of of the city-state's national square. Gathered outside the Union Hall's cyclopean gates is a group of about five hundred men, women, and children, the entire population of Victoria Town's Local 310, including a handful of travelers and migrants who were given housing within the local.

Brian shivered and pulled his coat closed around his neck. He wasn't cold; he couldn't remember the last time he ever had been. But he'd long ago learned that people started looking at you funny when you didn't respond to weather the same way they did. He wanted the move to Victoria Town to be his last, and that meant fitting in.

As the crowd milled about, though, he realized his nerves were getting the best of him. Some of the closer folk were starting to sweat; someone thankfully commented about thermals from the factory, and the young red-head slowly dialed back his emotions, let the cold wind penetrate the crowd again. He laughed with the older woman who made a joke about hating her hormones as she buttoned up the coat she had so recently undone for the brief heat-wave, then Brian looked back to the union hall gates, waiting.

 

[Padreigh]

James stood amongst the people, waiting impatiently for whatever it was they were going to do or say to be over.

He had stumbled upon a very amusing little book on Chinese sorcery. Everything in it was patently wrong, but the amusement value had been high and he had hoped to spend the day in front of his fireplace, reading the author's opium-riddled theories.

Instead he was standing here, surrounded by sweating proles ...

 

[Shayuri]

The courtyard of the Factory was rife with the general murmur of a thousand conversations being conducted at that low tone people take when they want the illusion of privacy while surrounded by others, but another noise could be heard...

"Excuse meee...sorry!...was that yours?...everyone outta the way!..."

Then there was a loud POP and hissing noise, as if a hole had blown in a steam turbine's pressure tank, and up over the crowd flew a young woman, barely more than a girl. She had a wild shock of red hair, and was wearing a complicated-looking set of eye-goggles. Her long coat flapped around her, giving flashes of a body covered in pockets and bottles and bits of metal. The two tails of a scarf fluttered madly in her wake. Her boots had scaffolds of brass pipe and fittings, and appeared to be emitting jets of flame and smoke!

"WooooHOOOOOOOOOOOO!" the apparitition shouted. "They work! They woooooooor..."

Alas her last word extended into a scream as the boots cut off at the apex of her altitude, and what was to have been a careening flight became a ballistic trajectory...back down to the ground.

She did the prudent thing. She aimed for the biggest gent around, reasoning that every inch of height he had was another inch she didn't have to fall.

And so it was that Aeaxeos the Spartan made the acquaintence of the girl who managed to extricate herself from the ungainly pile that they both made, and cheerfully extend a hand to introduce herself as "Deezy. Klatta. Deezy Klatta. Hi. Uh...are you okay?"

(OOC - Hope it's okay if I take a little liberty for my intro. It's just not as fun if you dodge out of the way, as I'm sure you could have. )

 

[Blackrat]

The huge armored hulk of a man barely budged* as the girl landed on him, but her fall to ground did sweep the warrior's foot beneath and managed to pull his other knee to the ground. The same hulk rose just as quickly as he had gone down and looked sternly at the young "lady", she could feel an unnatural shiver run down her spine. There was something absolutely terrifying in the warrior as he looked down like that.

Citizen, you are found using nonregular aerial transportation device. Please present your permits and ID. The voice commanded absolute authority, something that seemed to tell that he was in charge no matter who he talked to.

[sblock=OOC]Not at all, and Aeaxeos most certainly couldn't have dodged that But I doubt Deezy isn't heavy enough to knock him down in the "immovable" armor, but she could trip just a bit. I'm sure she is carrying all the necessary papers for her stuff [/sblock]

 

[Binder Fred]

Seif al Mariam walked into the square with that smooth yet strangely tentative gate of his, as if he was automatically testing the ground under him before trusting his full weight to it. He'd come back from his last expedition a full week past, so his desert robes were relatively dust-free for a change, if you ignored the oil stains from that 'accidental' scuffle with Krillion's men this morning. He was, quite understandably, not in the best of moods. Hard blue eyes peered out of the sand-veil that concealed the rest of his face. Left, spotted some ruckus amongst the Watchmen - keep well away from *them*, thanks all the same - right, the sharply dressed figure of James Fauntleroy Featherston-Smythe, all on his lonesome..... He made his way over.

People seemed to sense his mood, giving him passage if they could, though maybe that had more to do with the impression that he was going to plow straight through them if they didn't. He certainly had the equipment to carve a bloody path through the croud if he wanted to, twin sword handles hanging at his back - controls on their grips, pink, semi-rigid hoses sprouting out the ends - while a red-oaked revolver was tucked into the cloth of his belt, almost as an afterthought.

Seif stopped by the aristocrat's side, not too close, crossed his arms while facing the Union Hall, same as he, and grunted a curt greeting. "Hu."

[sblock=OOC]Padreigh, I figure Featherston-Smythe might have hired Seif in the past, to retrieve something lost in the sands? To hunt him down a rare plant/animal for one of his rituals? To consel him on a strange desert dialect? To bodyguard him on one of his more adventurous trips maybe? All of the above? What do you think?

Voda, according to the first post in the OOC thread, I think you may have been on Mars longer than you think. About 373 years longer to be exact... Unless you've been frozen or something?[/sblock]

 

[Padreigh]

"Salaam Alaikum, Seif", James replies in fluent Arabic. "I trust your last sally into the desert went well?"

OOC[sblock] I am absolutely fine with Seif having spend some time looking for ... weird things out in the wastelands for James. What language(s)does he speak by the way? I kinda assumed Arabic, but that might be a mistake based on his name [/sblock]

 

[Shayuri]

"Permits and ID," Deezy repeated, wide-eyed for a second. "Yessir I've got those. I've got a ton of those. Let's see." She started slapping her hips and belt, yanking open pouches to sift through them.

"In fact, I have SO many that you'll have to be more specific. Exactly what permits and ID do you need?"