>>841837

Walking the streets of New Odyss, you are confronted, once again, by an inescapable reality – you hate this place, damn near everything about it. The ramshackle buildings, thrown up without order or organisation. The locals, with their unreadable faces and suspicious eyes, always murmuring to each other in their own tongue when you pass them by. The simple disdain for the laws you've grown to respect and cherish. Worst of all is the heat – an oppressive, overpowering heat that has wormed its way under your skin and lit a fever in your blood.

A young thief approaches, falters, and then passes by without bothering you. Spite almost puts a pistol in your hand, urging you to turn and shoot him in his retreating back, but rationality and restraint stop you. It's the heat, the damn heat, wearing away your patience and causing your temper to flare. Last time you lost your temper – really losing it – someone ended up with a bullet in the kneecap.

The little thief, then, got off lightly with just a fright. Good for him.

-

There's no faulting the enthusiasm of the manor's guards, you think as they stop you with readied rifles, that's a small blessing. As soon as you approached them, they had brandished their weapons, and you had raised your hands with a weary sense of indulgence. Both of them are younger than you, considerably so, and the sweat shining on their faces just emphasises that boyish look. A moment of stalemate, and then they sheepishly lower their guns to a more casual posture.

No offence intended, one of them explained as he led you up to the manor gates, precautions have to be taken. He makes vague reference to an incident that happened early on in the governor's rule, a lapse in security that almost ended in disaster. The more he talks, the more worked up he seems to become. By the end of his little speech – meaningless words meant to fill the silence as you walk uphill – you find yourself placating him, urging him to calm himself.

His companion, on the other hand, never says a single word.

The pathway from the front gate to the manor itself is both a security measure and an arrogant display. The long uphill walk would delay any attackers, whilst striking fear into any petitioners thinking to bother the governor. That's the theory, at least – it's so transparent that you find it dull, laughable almost, rather than intimidating. Those who feel the need to use cheap tricks like this are never worth fearing, or even worrying about. Cooperate as far as politeness demands, and then find someone who can really help.

You've done this song and dance before, after all.

[2/3]

>>841839

“Can you wait?” the young guard asks as he shows you into a modestly decorated chamber, “The governor is currently busy, I believe, something will need to be arranged and, well... these things take time. So, uh, can you wait a little?”

Closing your eyes, you think of diseases spreading across the land, hopping from island to island. Infection boiling within unaware bodies, parasites ravishing their hosts, chances of containment dropping steadily towards zero. Opening your eyes, you coolly meet the guard's gaze and nod - You can wait.

Before he can turn to scurry away, you catch a flash of relief darting across his face. Anything to get away from this stranger with the hard eyes, you imagine him thinking.

-

“I'm sorry about the wait,” a young woman, neatly placed behind a long desk, tells you, “Governor Wells is usually visiting his private physician about this time. It's rather important to him, so he's unlikely to cut his business short.” Although the young woman is no northerner – her skin has the darker look of mixed parentage – she speaks like one, a clipped and efficient tone.

Nodding, you frown to yourself. In the interests of avoiding a panic, you had been careful about stating your business – an important matter for the governor's ears, you had said – but that might have been in error. Word of a plague might have lit a more urgent fire under the governor's backside, especially if he places so much weight in his private doctor. The more you hear about this doctor, however, the deeper your distrust goes. It's an odd arrangement, and you have to wonder just how much sway this doctor commands. Shaking your head, you ask the young woman how much longer this is likely to take.

“Let me see,” the young woman's eyes drop to an open book, then flick across to an intricately designed clock, “I would say twenty minutes or so, provided that nothing goes, well, wrong. Don't worry, that almost never happens!” The official detachment slips for a moment, allowing a glimpse of vague optimism to shine through. It's not exactly convincing, but you appreciate the sentiment.

“Anyway, is there anything else I can do for you?” the receptionist asks, “You're new here, I presume, so I can answer any questions you might have.”

She's eager to help, you'll give her that much.

>I'm fine, I can wait
>Could you tell me about this doctor?
>I'd like to speak with the governor's bodyguard as well. Is he around?
>The guards outside mentioned an old incident. What happened?
>I did have a question... (Write in)
>Other

>>841841
>The guards outside mentioned an old incident. What happened?
>Could you tell me about this doctor?
>I'd like to speak with the governor's bodyguard as well. Is he around?

Convincing him first might help convince the governor.

>>841841
>Could you tell me about this doctor?
>I'd like to speak with the governor's bodyguard as well. Is he around?
>The guards outside mentioned an old incident. What happened?

>>841841
>I'd like to speak with the governor's bodyguard as well. Is he around?
>The guards outside mentioned an old incident. What happened?

I'm half expecting this doctor to just be a southern girl being his 'attendant'.

>>841841
>Could you tell me about the staff? I will need to put them to use, so knowing how they work would make things easier.
Flash the League papers if necessary. A little unsubtle about how important this is, but maybe the shock will help.

You did have a few questions, so this delay might prove to be quite the boon. To start with, in the interests of keeping things cordial, you ask the receptionist for her name. Dinah, apparently – a nice enough name. With the pleasantries out of the way, you launch into your first question. Starting small, with a matter of history, you ask about the incident the guard mentioned. What exactly happened?

“Oh, well, that was a little before my time,” Dinah drums her fingers across the surface of her open book, “It wasn't long after Governor Wells arrived here, and things were a little uncertain. A state of transition, I believe. The previous governor took most of their security with them when they left, and so things were a little, ah, stretched here. I suppose that must have encouraged some of the more... restless locals, because one of them tried to stir up trouble.”

Trouble, you repeat slowly, what kind of trouble?

“Well, he marched right up to the front door – this was before we build the second gate downhill – and tried to...” she clears her throat delicately, “Blow himself up. Some kind of crude, improvised bomb. Fortunately for everyone involved, it must have been a dud – it didn't go off, and the security forces could shoot him down. As you can imagine, it gave everyone quite a scare. Now, this is just between you and me, but...”

You can keep a secret, you promise her, but what?

“I think it left a mark on Governor Wells. He hasn't gone out much since then, and it's left him rather indecisive. I think he's afraid of making enemies, and provoking another attempt on his life. Of course, that's only made the situation in New Odyss worse,” Dinah glances about at the empty room, clearing he throat again, “I think I've said too much. I'm only speculating, of course, it's just gossip.”

Gossip it might well be, but it makes a good deal of sense. Wells, fearful of any recrimination, has been content to let unofficial leaders like Escher take action, and any ill will that might result from that action. A leader in all but name, then. Offering Dinah a small smile, you accept her answer and move on. You'd like to know a little about this doctor the governor sees so much, you ask, is he a local man?

“No, I believe he came from the north. Let me think... a few years ago, not too long after the governor settled in. I don't believe he was officially requested, but ever since he attended to the governor one time, he's been given a position here,” nodding to herself, Dinah snaps her fingers, “Oh, his name is Doctor Levi. I don't know his first name, I don't think anyone does. Maybe it's just “Doctor” - that would be funny.”

Her little laugh is nervous, without really giving a good reason.

[1/3]

>>841874
...is Wells infected with something? Can't be Red Eye....

>>841874

It's a little odd for a governor to keep a private doctor, you muse, does he get ill often? Any chronic health difficulties that need constant care?

“No, I don't believe so. His nerves aren't the best, and it took him a long time to adjust to the local climate – that's not uncommon though – but I've never heard anything to suggest an illness,” again, Dinah lowers her voice, “Not a physical one, at least. Governor Wells does have a certain... tendency to worry. I think Doctor Levi is there just to assure him that a cough doesn't necessarily mean anything. Peace of mind is a valuable thing, I suppose.”

It sounds like Doctor Levi has quite the lucrative position, you think to yourself, a position that he might well aim to keep at all costs. There's a great number of theories you could come up with, each more paranoid than the last, but now is not the time. For now, you'd like to know about the governor's bodyguard. You've heard that he's quite capable – is he around?

“Bergmann? Most of the time, he's by the governor's side – as you'd expect, of a bodyguard – but not while the governor is with his physician. Something about confidentiality, I'm not quite sure... regardless, he'll likely be nearby. I can show you through, if you'd like,” Dinah pauses, and a faint look of dismay touches her features, “He's not one for idle chatter, however, so I'd suggest jumping straight to business if you do speak with him. Don't be intimidated, though, he's really not a bad person.”

The fact that she has to assure you of that, quite out of the blue, is vaguely worrying.

“No no, I didn't mean to imply anything by it. He's just a little... well, you'll see if you meet him,” tugging lightly at her collar, Dinah moves swiftly on, “Would you like to see him?”

You would, you agree, but you had one last question for her. What can she tell you about the staff here? You're going to be working with them soon enough, and you'd like to know what to expect.

“You're going to be working...” Dinah pauses, “If you don't mind me saying, that's awfully presumptuous. Is this-”

Official business, you tell her as you lay Henryk's papers – closed, so that only the League insignia is visible – down on the desk. Her eyes widen slightly as she sees them, and she gives you a gratifyingly nervous nod.

“I see,” she murmurs, “It's an important matter, then. Very well, I'm sure you'll get all the cooperation you need. You wanted to know about the staff here, wasn't it?”

That's right, you tell her, the cooperation is greatly appreciated.

[2/3]

>>841909

“Well, let me think...” Dinah begins, the cold mask of official business slipping down, “Governor Wells prefers to hire northerners whenever possible, or at least people with, ah... mixed heritage. That's not uncommon, of course. Most of the guards or other staff members here came down with trading ships, or came seeking their fortune. Probably not what they expected, ending up here, but it's a good enough living. I will say this, however – most of the men here, they've never really had to deal with a crisis. Trouble, sure, not not anything you might call a disaster. I include myself in that, so don't think I'm being high-handed.”

She said most of the men, you point out, does that mean some of them are more experienced than others?

“A few men stayed when the previous governor left, they're the most experienced ones here. They've got Ministry training – proper training, I mean, and not the local approximation,” she shrugs lightly, “About a dozen, all in all. Those are the men I'd rely on if the worst should happen. Of course, I don't mean to imply that we have any particular weak links here – everyone here meets what I might consider an acceptable standard of training.”

Of course, what she considers an “acceptable standard” might differ from what you'd expect. She might seem sharp enough, but she's still a receptionist – not exactly the best judge of the local talent. You'll have to see for yourself and make up your own mind. The best place to start, of course, is with Bergmann himself.

“Of course. I'll show you through,” Dinah rises from behind the desk, “This way please.”

-

Upon first glance, Bergmann could pass as a proud southerner – his skin is dark enough, and some of his scars have a disturbingly ritual aspect. They're subtle enough to pass as knife wounds, but you're not convinced. When he greets you, his voice is flat and hard, a perfect match for his eyes. Still, he proudly wears a Ministry bull on his sleeve – they don't just give those away to anyone.

“Make this quick,” he says, “I'm due back with the governor soon.”

Straight to business, just as you'd been warned.

>I believe there's an outbreak in the Boneyard. It needs to be contained
>I need your honest opinion – how competent is Governor Wells?
>How much experience do you and your men have with quarantine situations?
>Here's my question... (Write in)
>Other

>>841946
>How much experience do you and your men have with quarantine situations?
>I believe there's an outbreak in the Boneyard and potentially Ilsa Calvara. It needs to be contained. Think you can help me convince the governor when I see him?

>>841954
>>841946
This

How much experience, you ask briskly, does he have with quarantine situations? What about his men, have they been trained in these matters?

“I've had cause to seal off a few sections of the slums before, but that's a small scale situation at best,” Bergmann replies immediately, “Most of the men here, I'll be blunt here, aren't good for anything more than following orders. They can stop men from coming in and out of a sealed off area, but I would not rely on the majority of them to take any initiative. Luckily, I've got a number of men who I would trust to pass down orders.”

The Ministry trained men, you guess, correct?

“You've done your homework. Good, that'll save us some time,” he nods in a vaguely approving fashion, “Yes, some of my men have Ministry training and experience from their time under the previous governor. If I'm not around to bash some heads together, I'd count on them to do the same thing. The rest of the idiots that Wells pays, they're just extra meat for the grinder. Now, you've asked your question – it's time for me to ask mine. You've got good cause to be asking about quarantine procedures, correct?”

Correct, you confirm, and it might be bigger than just a small scale affair. You believe that there could be an outbreak in the Boneyard, and it could have spread to Isla Calvara already. It needs to be contained, or investigated at the very least. The problem, then, is convincing the governor to give clearance for any action – can he help you with that?

“Absolutely,” the scarred man agrees, without even a second of hesitation, “I'm curious about your evidence, but I'll let you discuss that with the governor himself. Personally, I think even rumours are to be taken seriously. When dealing with these sorts of matters, you rarely get more than one shot at containment. After that, the focus shifts to damage limitation.”

It's good, you think with relief, to be dealing with someone who knows what he's talking about. When you say as much, Bergmann barks out a harsh laugh.

“The feeling is mutual,” he assures you, “I'm going to warn you, here and now – it won't be a walk in the park, getting Wells to agree to anything serious. Isla Calvara is one thing, I wager he'd be happy enough to send a team out to investigate, but the Boneyard is different. Very different.” Frowning, Bergmann glances across at an old clock. “Come on, it's about time I got back to work. We're not finished, though.”

You thought as much. What's the problem with the Boneyard?

“Skinner. He won't be happy about having Ministry men stomping about his territory,” Bergmann scratches one of the long, ragged scars on his cheek, “Not very happy at all.”

[1/2]

>>841995

Having met Skinner before, you don't doubt Bergmann's warning. A barely contained madman, Skinner seems to fly into a rage at the slightest hint of disrespect, and barging into his little kingdom with a good number of armed men would be no small insult. It could come to blows – to open combat, or even a massacre. So how would he handle Skinner, you ask Bergmann, if he had to?

“If there was a disease burning through his people?” Bergmann scowls, the expression twisting his scars into new and interesting shapes, “I'd surround his territory and shoot anyone who tried to leave. Let them all sicken and die, if it keeps the problem contained. The area would only be better for it.”

You're certain that that's just a professional opinion, with no personal feelings involved whatsoever. Before you can press the issue, however, Bergmann stops outside a mundane looking door – one with no signs or markings to set it apart from the others. A few seconds later, and the door flies open.

-

Compared with the insipid worm of a man you had been imagining, Governor Corbyn Wells cuts a surprisingly dashing figure. He looks well-bred, and he holds himself upright enough – the very image of a leader, one might think. Then, he has to go and spoil it all by flinching in response to Bergmann's crisp salute.

Glancing aside to you, Bergmann mouths the words “every time” and grimaces faintly. You're starting to see the problem.

“Yes, well, good day Bergmann. I trust that everything is in order?” Wells recovers quickly, but he never quite regains that same regal bearing. The illusion, once broken, can never be repaired. Once you note that Bergmann's long coat is just a little too big for him – the sleeves hang down over his hands, flapping in his face whenever he moves to slick back his hair – you can no longer see him as anything more than an overgrown child.

It does not, needless to say, instil you with much confidence.

“Unfortunately, everything is not in order,” Bergmann says, his voice dropping low, “There's a matter we need to discuss, and a guest that we need to discuss it with. It's a matter of public health, you see, and-”

“I do hope you're including me in this discussion,” a new voice, thin and sly, butts in here, “I am something of an expert in these matters, after all.”

Doctor Levi, you presume. If you distrusted him before, just from hearing about him, then seeing him in person does nothing to change your mind. Some people, you've found, have inherently distrustful faces – you'd easily count Doctor Levi among their number.

“Of course, doctor,” Wells nods, “We'll talk it over, all of us.

You meet Bergmann's eye and frown, your scowl a perfect mirror of his own.

[2/3]

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>>842059

Covering up his distaste with a well-practised ease, Bergmann leads the entire group away to a more discrete room. The sort of room where dirty deals are made and unmade, small groups deciding the fate of countless “lesser” men. As you all sit around a circular table – a vague nod in the direction of impartiality and equality – you take stock of the men you'll be dealing with. Bergmann is impassive, although a tension in his jaw speaks of a dire impatience. It's action he wants, you think, not discussion. Wells looks uneasy, although any kind of panic is still a long way off. Levi, finally, has a look of mild interest on his face, but nothing else.

He might be a problem, you think vaguely to yourself.

“So, let's get right down to it!” Wells claps his hands together in an attempt to look decisive, only to flinch at his own gesture, “Ah, yes. Introductions. My name is Corbyn Wells, rightful governor of New Odyss. I understand that you've met Bergmann, my chief assistant in practical matters. This is Doctor Levi, a Scholar, gentleman and my own private confidant. Anything you can say to me, you can say to him.”

Camilla Borghild, you offer, Ministry of Health and Well-Being. You're here on official business, so you'd rather keep this as brief as possible. There may be an outbreak of the Red Eye Sickness in the area, primarily rooted in the Boneyard region, and-

“Impossible,” Levi cuts in, “The Red Eye Sickness is a northern affliction, it's not local to the area. Have you checked your facts, Miss Borghild?”

The sick anger that had started to dim flares up again at the oily condescension in his voice. Beneath the table, you clench your hands into tight fists. You understand that the Red Eye Sickness is typically a northern affliction, you reply in a cold voice, but this is not a typical situation. It appears that a new strain has appeared, one that doesn't operate according to-

“And I presume you have samples of this new strain?” the bastard doctor interrupts again, “Evidence? Confirmed victims and samples? Anything that might lend credence to your claim?”

As if he can't figure out what to say, or who to say it to, Wells just looks between you and Levi in silent confusion. You're losing him, you realise, you need to act quickly.

[3/4]

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>>842128

You're not the only one making these claims, you announce as you lay out Henryk's papers, your associate – a Hunter of no small skill – was the one to raise the alarm. He's encountered the Red Eye Sickness before, and he recognised all the signs.

“A Hunter!” Levi scoffs, “Are you really going to trust the word of an uneducated man? A man, need I add, who isn't even here?”

“These papers are genuine,” Bergmann adds as he flips through them, “And a Hunter is likely to run into these things, doing business in the north. I think you should treat this matter with the respect it deserves, governor.”

“Then... what would you suggest?” Wells asks, his eyes flicking between the three of you. His eyes fall upon you last of all, and he invites you to speak with a small nod.

>Quarantine the Boneyard. It's the only thing that can prevent the outbreak spreading
>Investigate Isla Calvara. There might be proof of an infection there
>Other

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>>842128
someone is in dire need of a kneecaping

>>842135
>“Then... what would you suggest?”
Shooting your doctor in the knees before anything else...
>...did I say that out loud?

>>842135
>Investigate Isla Calvara. There might be proof of an infection there

>Other
>Ear of Suspicion: By spending a point of focus, lies and words of treachery will ring hollow in your ears – the truth will be revealed to you.

"Tell me Levi, is this truly the first time you've heard of the Red Eye Sickness down here in the south?"

"What is it that you do here Levi?"


If anyone has any other questions for this be sure to ask them since we only have one shot.

>>842135
>>Investigate Isla Calvara. There might be proof of an infection there

>>842152
>>842135
>Investigate Isla Calvara. There might be proof of an infection there
>We can also ask Skinner if we can see one of his dying men.

"You were very quick to dismiss my claims Levi. Do you not want this matter to be investigated? Health and safety are your first priority no?"

Either he is an arrogant asshole or he is hiding something.

>>842143
Probably shouldn't. We'd lose credibility.

>>842152
>>842135
Oh and if we do catch him in a lie be sure to press him. We can catch more lies if he starts getting emotional.

Did Henryk ever mentioned Loch as the one who sent him down south?

If so, we could drop the name as the one who will come there to clean up the mess once his "personal hunter" send him word that the local governor decided not to act.

Make enough implication that both Loch and the hunter are on another level thank to the pacification of the north, thanks to said hunter.

>>842201
Pacification of the north isn't widespread yet and I don't think Loch's name means much down here.

It seems like, with the bodyguard on our side, we have enough clout to at least investigate. Don't need to start making threats or namedrop just yet

You've always had a way of knowing things, sifting the truth from lies and weighing people's words carefully. It's harder here, with the locals, but Levi isn't a local – he's as northern as they come. For a moment, you leave the governor's question hanging and fix your gaze, instead, on the good doctor. Keeping silent, you give him a long look – other than his mouth twisting slightly, he shows no discomfort – before glancing back to the governor. You've got a few questions for his physician, you tell him, but you'll have a suggestion for him once those are out of the way.

>[Focus remaining: 0]

“Of course, I...” Wells looks bemused by the unfolding drama, “We're here to discuss matters, after all. Ask whatever questions you need to ask.”

Perfect. Returning your gaze to Levi, you offer him a thin smile. What is it that he does here exactly, you begin, what are his duties?

“I mix and administer remedies, according to the governor's wishes and needs,” Levi replies slowly, picking his words with care, “A sedative, for when his nerves are strained. Analgesia, if he is suffering from a pain. Without resorting to primitive local remedies, the governor would have no other choice of treatment.”

None of which is technically false, you realise, but every word was deliberate. For example, he administers drugs according to the governor's wishes, not just his needs – a man can wish for many things that he doesn't need. A man can be talked into wishing for certain things. Allowing your smile to soften a little – and noting, with great interest, that Levi seems to relax slightly – you ask your next question. Is this really the first time he's heard tell of the Red Eye Sickness this further south, you ask him, he's never heard anything about it before?

He freezes in place, the moment of relaxation immediately snapping back into steely tension. A thin, bloodless tongue flicks out across his lips as he considers his answer. “I had heard rumours,” he offers slowly, “But nothing that was ever confirmed. Knowing what I know about the natural tendencies, I dismissed these rumours as hysteria or malicious rumours.”

It feels wicked, but you've always savoured that first lie – the moment when someone blunders into your trap. You're yet to taste that pleasure, but you know that it's not far off. Your questions are pushing Levi into a corner, forcing him to pick his words with increasingly desperate care. This must be how Henryk feels on the Hunt, you think to yourself, landing small wounds before moving in for the killing blow.

Time for you to land your own fatal blow.

[1/2]

>>842214

“I really don't know why you're asking me all these questions,” Levi snaps, a note of heat finally entering his voice, “I'm not the one bringing in a ludicrous story about-”

“Stop,” Bergmann cuts in, his voice utterly cold and harsh, “Let her speak, doctor. We're all having a friendly discussion here, there's no need to take offence.”

A friendly discussion, you think to yourself, of course. Before anyone can say anything else, to break in and derail the conversation, you press forwards with your next question. He was very quick to dismiss your claims, you tell Levi, does he not want this matter to be investigated? Matters of public health are his concern as well, are they not?

This time, Levi swallows heavily as he thinks, desperately searching for a good way out of this. “I don't want to waste any of the governor's valuable time,” he tries, “Or to provoke any conflicts with the Boneyard. I'm sure that the local leader – you'll have to forgive me, but I've never had much of a memory for names – would not accept Ministry authority. I understand that he has a habit of seeking recompense for such actions. You must understand, governor, that your life might be at risk if you press this issue. Public health is a factor, yes, but my duties are restricted to the governor alone. He is, after all, paying my wages.”

Evasion. Avoiding the question and changing the subject. The oldest trick in the book – a shame, then, that it only makes him look more suspicious.

“Doctor,” Bergmann adds mildly, “I don't think that's quite the question Miss Borghild was asking. Do you, or do you not, want this matter to be investigated?”

Silence. Dead silence, before Wells clears his throat. “Doctor Levi, I value your counsel in these matters,” the governor begins, “So, do you think this matter is worth investigating? Perhaps not the Boneyard, but...”

Isla Calvara, you suggest, there may well be proof there. The island has been silent lately, and you've heard that such silences are often warning signs. You would suggest visiting Isla Calvara, you ask Levi, what does he think?

Cornered, with his back against the wall, Levi offers a sickly smile. “Well, why not?” he replies with a frail shrug, “I can't see the harm in investigating Isla Calvara. I would like, however, to accompany you there. You will need an educated man there, of course, to confirm anything.”

“Yes, that sounds like an excellent idea,” Wells nods eagerly, as if he had been the one to come up with the idea, “Bergmann, I'd like you to take your pick of both men and ships. If fortune favours us, it will be nothing. If not...” He doesn't finish that sentence, but the way his face pales is enough.

[2/3]

>>842246
Damnit Wells, so close.

Well either way I think we know this dude is crooked and has probably been putting poison in Wells' ears when it comes to governing.

>>842246

As a secondary source of evidence, you add, you could try asking Skinner for one of his infected men – or one of the bodies, if he's not burned them. He should have burned them, of course, but you can't imagine that savage paying too much attention to League regulations. Chances are, he can't even read the book that they're written in. More fool him – keeping the bodies would only raise the chances of further contamination.

“I'm not sure that's such a good idea,” Wells manages to pale even more, “Making demands of that sort...”

You wouldn't be demanding, you stress, you'd be making a polite request – an offer, as if you were dealing in scrap metal or engine components. It would work, you address this to Bergmann, wouldn't it?

“Provided that there was something in it for him, I expect so,” Bergmann nods glumly, “But I'd rather keep that as a secondary option. Something to look into, if Isla Calvara is a dead end. The less we have to do with Skinner, the better.”

“Shall we get started then?” suddenly cheerful, bright and focussed, Levi claps his hands together, “I've heard nice things about Isla Calvara, very good food I'm told. I don't think we'll find anything, but it might make for a nice day out!”

That last part is definitely a lie, one that leaves a sour taste on the tip of your tongue.

-

“This way, doctor,” Bergmann says as you're leaving, “We've got to get you kitted out. Don't worry, nothing serious – just some protective clothing. It might be a little warm, but that's the least of your worries. You too, Miss Borghild – I'm sure we've got something in your size.”

Protective clothing, you agree as the bodyguard leads you both into a cramped room, of course. Once you're inside and Bergmann locks the door, however, you realise that protective clothing was the last thing on his mind. A split second after you, Levi get the same idea – his eyes fly open wide, and he starts to yelp out some word of protest. Before he can do more than draw in a breath, Bergmann has crossed the small room and slammed the doctor up against a wall.

“I've been wanting to do that for months,” he tells you, glancing your way, “Hell, maybe years.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Levi gags, “I'll have Wells throw you all in the dungeons! You'll never-” The rest of that threat is cut off as Bergmann tightens his grip, pressing his arm into Levi's throat.

“That's “Governor Wells” to you,” the bodyguard says quietly, “Now... how about some answers? I wager Miss Borghild has a few questions for you.”

>What do you really know about the Red Eye Sickness?
>Who are you really working for?
>What kind of hold do you have on the governor?
>Answer me this... (Write in)
>Other

>>842246
Lets push the doctor again I say. Ask him if he has any presence here that could help us out and lend legitimacy to our investigation. Does he have any contacts in the Boneyard?

Does he have any contacts among the locals that might be able to help?

Does he have any contacts with any of the foreigners in the south?

> MFW the Doctor is selling info about the Governor to Skinner

I can't remember if Henryk mentioned the whole "disappearing scholars" conspiracy, but we will want to make sure he isn't associated with wossername Henryk is chasing.

Finally, just as a personal thing, I think we should grill him about the Orphanage and point out that the South has been used for less than savory experiments before.

After that, we should mention to the Governor that we saw the stripped down hull of the Majestic in the Boneyard. Mention that we saw a Ministry warship that was pretty famous for its construction alone and insinuate that there might be spies or terrorists among us. Play to his paranoia. Point out that it was recently in the north and disappeared under mysterious circumstances and could be a plague vector.

>>842302
>>Who are you really working for?

>>842302
>Who are you really working for?
>What do you really know about the Red Eye Sickness?
"Tell me everything you know about the new strain."
>What kind of hold do you have on the governor?
>Answer me this... (Write in)
"How was Skinner's men exposed to it?"

>>842302
>>Who are you really working for?
>>What kind of hold do you have on the governor?

>>842302
>>842331

Uh. This still works.

Changing a bit.

> Why are you down in the south in the first place?

Dude didn't come down with the Governor, and it's unlikely a Doctor would go somewhere without support.

> Who do you associate with down here?

and after he answers,

> Is there anyone else you associate with?

In case he tries to lie by omission. Then we can grill him about those people.

> Are you doing any sort of experiments down here?

Because the Orphanage fucked us up and I feel like Camilla would want to make sure he isn't doing anything like that.

>>842342
>>842302
>Answer me this... (Write in)
"How were Skinner's men exposed to it?"

A little vague, especially if he doesn't actually know the details. Maybe instead

> Do you know what the infection is, if it isn't Red Eye?

and then

> How could people be exposed to it and infected by it

That way he tells us all possible vectors for the plague.

>>842302
>Other
"Things are coming to light Levi. My partner is chasing leads as we speak. Your position isn't as secure as you think and I don't think it would take too long between the both of us to convince Wells' he has a snake in his court. I 'suggest' you cooperate with us."

It takes you a moment to think straight and put everything you just saw in order – Bergmann moved fast, faster than you ever thought possible for a man of his size – and then you glance an unspoken question over to the bodyguard.

“I've seen you Ministry types working your magic before,” he explains, “Never quite had the knack of it myself, I figure it's a northern thing, but I know how useful it is. I thought you might appreciate the chance to ask the good doctor a few private questions, see what he says without his employer watching.”

It's appreciated, you tell him, now ease up – you want to give this Snake a chance to hiss. As Bergmann takes his arm from Levi's throat and steps back, you take his place in front of the trapped rat. Without the imminent threat of strangulation, Levi seems to ease up slightly, although he has enough sense to take this seriously. That sly act has fallen away to reveal a naked self-preservation. You've seen that look before - he'd sell out everyone he's ever known and loved if that's what it took to survive this.

Things are coming to light, you tell Levi in a reasonable tone, and that's only going to increase as time goes on. Your associate is chasing his own leads right now, right as you speak, and his position here is only going to get worse. This could all look very bad for him if it came up in court, so you're going to give him a suggestion – cooperate, fully and without reservation. If he can do that, things might start to look up for him.

“I'll cooperate,” he replies in a whisper, “But I want you to know something – I'm not some scheming villain, not really. I'm not responsibly for anything, I'm just a small link in a very big chain.”

Noted. Now you'd like to hear about this big chain of his – who is he really working for?

“Well, that's not an easy question to answer,” Levi shakes his head, lifting a hand to brush a stray lock of hair away from his face. You grab his wrist as he does so, tightening your grip until he winces. “Alright, alright, fine!” he yelps, “But I really don't know much! They're northerners, they're organised, and they've got a lot of resources at their disposal. I don't have any names – not the names of their leaders, or even the organisation itself. I... I don't even know if they have a name!”

So what does he know about them?

“They don't care much about League regulations, they do whatever they like. Experimentation, without any restrictions, that's what they offered me when they found me here,” a feverish light creeps into Levi's eyes, “I turned them down. I... wasn't about to get involved in all that. Too much risk, too little reward. I don't give a damn about research or pushing boundaries, I just wanted to get paid!”

[1/?]

>>842422

Experiments without restraint or restriction. Memories of the Orphanage surface in the murky waters of your mind, thoughts of butchery and desecration. Before you've quite realised it, your pistol is in your hand, pressed against his upper thigh. One shot, and he'd bleed out in less than a minute. No experiments, you press him, he's sure about that?

“Other than mixing a few chemicals?” he whispers, “Nothing. I just make enough drugs to keep Wells nice and stupid. That's all. That's all!”

Letting a long breath hiss out through your clenched teeth, you take the pistol away from him and slip it back into your holster. Drugs, you repeat, is that how he influences the governor? He has some kind of hold over the man, is that it?

“I didn't plan for it, but you should have seen the man. He was a nervous wreck, barely capable of leaving his private quarters. I mixed up a sedative for him, and it worked so well that he offered me a permanent position,” a bitter look crosses his face, “I never wanted him to get addicted, but these drugs... they're not gentle things. It all got out of control, that's all!”

“And you landed yourself in a very comfortable position,” Bergmann murmurs, “Funny how that works. Maybe you didn't plan for it, but you certainly took advantage of things. Nice. Very nice.”

So why did he come to the south, you ask quietly, what did he really come here for?

“Ah, would you believe me if I said I like the warm weather?” he offers, before you tighten your grip on his wrist once again, “Okay, okay, there was a mistake, a death! I mixed a bad dose for some noble brat, I never realised he had a bad heart. I couldn't stay in the Free States, but here... a man can disappear here, never be seen again. Levi, it's not even my real name!”

So he came south, you muse, and lucked into a position at the governor's side. Then, he was approached by these people... correct?

“They offered me a job. Like I said, I turned them down. Only... you don't really turn down these people. They don't take refusals lightly. A few weeks later, they came back with a wanted poster – my face, spread right across it. After that, well, they had me by the throat. Said I'd owe them a favour,” swallowing nervously, Levi pauses for a second, “Not so long ago, they came to collect. Warned me – whispered a little rumour in my ear – that the Red Eye Sickness might show up here. I didn't believe them... why would I? But, they wanted me to hush it up, stop it from reaching the governor.”

[2/?]

>>842482

So he wasn't quite lying. He did, in fact, hear rumours about the Red Eye Sickness, and he didn't believe them. You're impressed – he really can tell the truth. While you're on the subject of the Red Eye Sickness, however, you want to know. What does he really know about it? This new strain, does he know anything?

“It's not like the normal kind, the northern strain,” once again, that thin tongue slips out to moisten his lips, “It's quiet, it doesn't provoke the usual spasms of rage in those infected by it. They told me about the symptoms, told me what to look out for. A slight fever, dementia, nothing too noticeable. Reddened, bloodshot eyes later, then coughing blood. The swellings are last, once the eggs start to mature. After that, death.”

None of that sounds good, you muse. Visible symptoms, at least, but Levi said it himself – they're not very noticeable. Nothing like the loud, violent outbreaks seen in the north. Does he know for certain if Skinner's men were exposed to it?

“Not for certain, no,” Levi shakes his head, “All I was told was that there might be an outbreak. They told me that it would be contained, kept under control. I wasn't putting any lives at risk by hiding it, that's what I was told!”

“And you believed them,” Bergmann sneers, “Of course you did, because it let you sleep at night.”

How were they exposed, you ask, and how can it spread? How could it pass to other people?

“Fluid contact, I guess?” Levi offers a small shrug, “The eggs pass through fluid, either human to human or... creature to human. The mature form can bite, inject eggs that way. They said that the eggs couldn't survive for long outside a human host, but... I don't know if I believe that. They didn't sound very sure.”

Always this mysterious “they”. Who has he been associating with, you press, who does he know down here?

“Alright, look, I meet my contact at home. It's not always the same person, but they might as well be – always neat, efficient and very quiet about things. They gave me a little radio, set to a single frequency. When we need to meet, that's how we arrange something. As for my associates... I don't have many. Closest damn thing to a friend I have down here is Wells himself. These other people? It's just business. Oh, and they'll want a report, once this is all done with,” he grimaces, “They'll kill me for this, did you ever think about that?”

What a shame.

[3/4]

>>842528

“Are we finished here?” Levi asks, scraping together enough composure to keep a whine out of his voice, “I really don't know what else I can tell you. Frankly, I get the feeling that you know more about all this than I do.”

One last question, you stress, does he know how Skinner's men got infected in the first place? If he doesn't know, does he have any theories?

“That was two questions...” he grumbles, “No, I don't know exactly how they were infected, but yes, I can probably guess. A man could do it, if he was infected. All he'd need to do is spit in another man's eye, and that would be the start of it. It would be a suicide attack, mind you, and not just because he'd be insulting one of Skinner's crew. More likely that they brought a vial of infected blood, tainted some food or water with it. Maybe they even released one of the mature forms, let it loose in the Boneyard to bite as it pleases. These people, they have means – any of those might work.”

“Miss Borghild, a word in private,” Bergmann murmurs, taking your arm and gently leading you away. Once you're a few paces from Levi – about as far away as you can get, in this little room, he gives you a sour look. “What I want to know is,” he mutters, “What the fuck have I stumbled into? Nameless conspiracies? New strains? This was never a quiet, peaceful town – I'll admit that – but this is something else. Were you expecting to find all this?”

You're not sure what you expected, you tell him honestly, you had a few theories but that was it. Most of this is news to you as well. The question, then – what to do with Levi? Reporting him to the governor would be the most immediate option.

“He's a Snake, in more ways than one, but he did have a point – we could use a Scholar, and I don't know about any other ones around here,” Bergmann shakes his head, “For now, he's useful to us. Plus, there's that radio he mentioned – maybe he can draw out a member of this group once this is over, someone more useful than he's been.”

>I'm not having an enemy spy coming along with us – we're leaving him here, in a dungeon if possible
>You're right, he's still useful. We'll keep him under guard, at least
>Hold on, I wanted to ask him a few more questions... (Write in)
>Other

>>842581
>>You're right, he's still useful. We'll keep him under guard, at least
He's a snake that can keep Wells in control, he's already addicted so staying quiet for a bit longer wouldn't hurt. That radio does sound like a huge lead too, if we get lucky enough.

>>842581
>>You're right, he's still useful. We'll keep him under guard, at least

The dude is all about self preservation. We give him a glimmer of hope that he might not be totally fucked and we can use him.

>>842581
>You're right, he's still useful. We'll keep him under guard, at least

>>841837
Great to see you back! Onwards with the Quest!

>>842581
>>You're right, he's still useful. We'll keep him under guard, at least

He's right, you agree, Levi is still useful. So long as he's kept under close guard, you don't see any problem with keeping him involved. You might not be able to rely on his courage or loyalty, but you can put some faith in his instinct for self-preservation. So long as he feels safer on your side than theirs, he'll play along. There's the matter of his radio as well – that's one hell of a lead, if you can make good use of it.

“He'd need to be the one to make any calls, though. If they hear some other voice on the other end, it would all blow up in our faces,” Bergmann cautions, “Although I'm not sure how they'd react. Even sending an assassin after us could work in our favour – we'd still have the chance to grab someone and make them talk.”

They're more likely to burrow deeper down, you counter, and surface somewhere else completely – you might never get the chance to find them again. From what you're starting to learn, that sort of trick wouldn't be beyond these people.

“Hell,” Bergmann curses, “My life was simpler when I was just putting down minor rebellions. I'm not qualified for this crap.”

Nobody is, you reply with a shrug, you're certainly not. Either way, it's time to get on with things. You start to turn away, but then Bergmann grabs you by the arm and holds you in place for a moment longer.

“Wells doesn't need to know about this yet,” he cautions you, “For the time being, New Odyss needs him stable and lucid – even if it means letting Levi play his tricks for a while longer. I hate to admit it, but he had a point. Wells was a mess before Levi started working on him, and he's shown real improvement since then. He's far from a good leader – he's about as strong as wet paper – but he's stable. Stability is what New Odyss needs, what the entire region needs. Once this is settled, I'll sit them both down and work something out.”

Provided they all survives this, you add.

“Well, yes,” Bergmann admits.

-

It only took a few moments apart for Levi to regain his smug confidence. “I presume you've reached the same conclusion that I have,” he begins when you return, “I'm more useful to you alive – you can't afford to kill me.”

Maybe true, you cheerfully agree, but you don't need him unharmed. As you say this, you draw your pistol and point it as his knee. So, you add, he shouldn't get too confident.

“I see,” Levi's slick smile falters a little, “You've... done this sort of thing before, haven't you?”

Once or twice, you shrug, it's all part of the job.

>I think I'll pause things here for today. I'll pick things up tomorrow, and I'll stick around in case of any comments or questions
>Thanks for the contributions today, sorry about the walls of text!

>>842657
Great run Moloch. Thanks for running.

>>842657
>As you say this, you draw your pistol and point it as his knee.
kek

Thanks for running Moloch.

Did you expect us to grill the bastard this early with the Focus ability?

>>842699

The idea did actually slip my mind, but I'm pretty glad it happened. It was a lot of fun writing the most slimy, evasive answers I could!

>>842728
Hey Moloch was the Majestic seaworthy last we saw? I know the cannons were missing and there were some holes.

>>842875

The Majestic is still seaworthy, yes. That said, it might not be immediately possible for someone to hop on board and sail it away. It won't sink any time soon, but the engines aren't in great shape

>>842908
You know, it's risky, but we might be able to get Skinner to part with it if we offer him a deal/helping him with his Red Eye problem and get him to realize how much heat that ship is going to bring him.

I don't think we are getting those cannons back unless though...

>>842916
>I don't think we are getting those cannons back unless though...

I don't think we are getting those cannons back unless he is super grateful though...*

>>842728
damn, that was some really entertaining grilling.

>>842916
Why don't we just tell him the ship is cursed? Surely he noticed the crazy lady.

>>843451
Don't even need to go into fiction. It's part of the reason his people got sick potentially AND it's one of the flagships that the Ministry want back and will go to lengths to get it back.

Regardless of how crazy Skinner is I think he is a businessman and that ship is and is going to be very bad for business for him. We just have to tell him how bad an idea it is to keep that ship around.

>>843540
Well, there's also the fact that even if he isn't as superstitious as his men, pretty sure he's still somewhat cautious of spirits.

Also if we announce it in front of his men then he'll have to play along.

I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement to pay him for "damages" by giving him some measure of influence or privileges. Offer to make the Boneyard an official port, or give him some Privateering writs and allow him to handle Sea traffic. In exchange for the right to levy reasonable tolls he will be responsible for controlling smuggling and helping to bring some order to the various islands so we don't get shit like those conspiracy bastards happening.

Or maybe he'd like to have a presence up in the North. Open up a second Boneyard as it were.

Maybe just pointedly excuse the lack of guns that once we're on the Majestic. They "disappeared".

He should be pretty pumped to help us fuck up Saive and her co-conspirators though. Revenge and all that.

Just saying, we could take the infected men of his and put them on a separate boat. Use them as shock troops, they're dead anyways.

>>842657
Thanks for running, Moloch!

>>843751
That's a tougher sell and way more long term than I was thinking. My main goal was getting the Majestic back without bloodshed, nothing more.

Still it's an idea to consider.

The stink of flamethrower fuel hangs about you like a heavy cloud, strong enough that even the smell of the ocean is kept at bay. No wonder that the fumes are so choking – of the ten men Bergmann decided to bring along for this little investigation, six of them are armed with the bulky, hideous weapons. The remaining men carry rifles, the exact same kind that Cid had been showing off earlier – the sole difference is the presence of the Ministry seal, stamped onto the metal.

Nobody wants to say it, but everyone knows what the flamethrowers will be used for. If some infection, some outbreak, has swept through Isla Calvara, there will be a great many bodies needing disposal. The quickest way about it is also the most brutal – pile them up in a ditch and set a torch to them.

With luck, the breathing equipment Bergmann issued you should also block out the smell.

-

“You think he'll try anything?” Bergmann asks, watching Levi with narrowed eyes, “Anything stupid, I mean. Running, trying to cause trouble.”

Doubtful, you reply, he knows as well as anyone here how dangerous this island might be. Unarmed as he is – he was refused a rifle – he'll need to stick with you for protection. Trying to pick a fight would be suicide, and an escape attempt wouldn't be much smarter. Even if he does run, where would he go? You're headed to an island, and there's no guarantee that he'll be able to find a working boat. No, you reckon he'll behave himself. He doesn't have much choice in the matter.

“No,” Bergmann agrees after a moment of hateful study, “He doesn't.”

Silence – save for the roar of the boat's engine, that is – descends once more. Neither of you are really in the mood to talk, but staying quiet isn't much better. Silence only invites thoughts, dreadful predictions of what you might find on Isla Calvara, and neither of you want to dwell on such things. You'll face them when the time comes, but no sooner than that. Eventually, Bergmann is driven to break the thickening stillness between you.

“This Hunter friend of yours,” he grunts, “You said he's doing his own thing. Is he reliable?”

He's never let you down yet, you reply proudly, he's probably the most reliable person you know.

“Huh,” Bergmann leans over the side of the boat and spits into the water, “The south isn't a good place for Hunters. I've seen... let me think, three of them come here. Not one came back. First one didn't last a week. Picked a fight in one of the worst bars around, kept frothing at the mouth and accusing the locals of being animals. Beasts. Well, they didn't take too kindly to that. We fished his body up the next morning, counted maybe three dozen different wounds.”

Harsh, you murmur after a long and awkward silence.

[1/3]

>>845978

“Now, the other two... they were strange. One was making all kinds of claims, talking about how they were going to kill a true monster in the deepest part of Isla Nomann. Not a beast, he was pretty specific about that, but a monster. Well, nobody could really get much else out of them, and they left New Odyss within the week. Never came back, never heard anything about them again,” Bergmann shrugs, “So it goes.”

What about the third Hunter, you ask, the last one?

“Not quite sure what to make of that. Got no trouble out of him, no boastful claims either. They were real old, probably the oldest Hunter I've ever seen, and they looked about ready to lie down and die at any minute. He stopped in town for a while, gathered some supplies, and then took off with a local guide,” Bergmann pauses here, stooping to pick up his breathing mask and examine it, letting the light play off the glass lenses, “Only thing he told the guide was that he was looking for a place to settle down. Had the man drop him off at an island in the far south. Of course, never heard of them again either. Noticing a pattern yet?”

Right, you murmur, you're starting to notice a recurring theme.

“Hell, I didn't mean to worry you,” Bergmann flaps an irritated hand at you, “Besides, from what I hear, Hunters don't get much of a better deal up north. Die in the snow or die in the jungle, that's life for you.”

It's funny, you offer after a while, you were told that he wasn't one for idle chatter.

“Yeah, and now you know why,” the southerner laughs bitterly, “Glum bastard, even at the best of times. You're right, though, it's a rare moment when I talk this much at once. Nerves, I suppose.”

Happens to everyone, you reply. Before you can say much else, a voice calls out from further back in the ship.

-

“There's the Boneyard there, sir,” one of the Ministry veterans says, “We're taking a wide course around it. Don't want to give old Skinner any reason to worry.”

“He wouldn't worry,” a second mutters, “He'd cut off your bloody hands, but he wouldn't worry about it for a damn second.”

“Quiet,” Bergmann barks, “We're not stopping here. Not yet, at least. Hold this course until we reach Isla Calvara, and don't bother me until we get there. Not unless it's damn important, at least.” He starts to turn away, then snaps out one last order. “Get your gear on,” he snarls, “No whining about the heat, I'm not losing any of you fools today because of lax protocol. Cry and complain when you're off duty.”

“Yes sir!” the pair of men reply, both wearing the same pained look.

[2/3]

>>845980

“Isla Calvara,” Bergmann tells you, spreading out an old map, “Good place, all things considered. I hope it's still alive, but it's looking unlikely. When you go this long without hearing anything, it's got to be trouble. I just wish we'd got official word a little sooner. Another thing to blame HIM for.” Scowling fiercely, Bergmann jerks his head across at Levi, who offers a pallid smile in response.

“I was just told to manage the flow of information,” the doctor shrugs, “I didn't kill anyone. If we're talking about spilled blood, I wager you've killed more people than I have, Bergmann.”

“It's not a fucking competition,” Bergmann snaps, “So shut up until you've got something respectable to say, and then ask nicely before speaking. Now, the rest of you, listen closely. Our priority is to search out any trace of infection and contain whatever we find. Secondary priority goes to recovering samples – blood or tissue samples, something that the good doctor here can study later. We've got a good amount of ground to cover, so I'm going to split you up into three teams. No whining now, you don't need me holding your hands – just cover each other and you'll be fine.”

“Next, this is Agent Borghild,” Bergmann nods to you, “She's got joint command of this operation. If she gives you an order, you'd better obey – no different than if I'd been the one to give it. Understood?”

A chorus of agreement from the gathered men – surprisingly enthusiastic, considering. Levi rolls his eyes at the display, as if the mere idea of following orders deserves his scorn.

“Before we go any further, I want to know if anyone has any questions,” the Ministry officer pauses, “Anything to add. I'm open to whatever you have to offer.”

>I've got nothing. Let's move on
>Skinner's men often come here to court the local girls. If there is an infection here, that's how it started
>I don't know the area, can you tell me about Isla Calvara?
>Well doctor, anything to add?
>I've got something... (Write in)
>Other

>>845983
>>Skinner's men often come here to court the local girls. If there is an infection here, that's how it started
>>I don't know the area, can you tell me about Isla Calvara?
>>Well doctor, anything to add?
Have

>>845983
>>Skinner's men often come here to court the local girls. If there is an infection here, that's how it started
>>I don't know the area, can you tell me about Isla Calvara?

>>845983
>>Skinner's men often come here to court the local girls. If there is an infection here, that's how it started
>>I don't know the area, can you tell me about Isla Calvara?

Explain the differences of this new strain to the men, how subtle it is. That said that does not give them leave to torch every potential survivor they see. We just got to be more cautious. Thankfully they hopefully won't be violent like the northern strain which gives us time to check people at our own pace.

>>845983
>If you question anyone, ask first about pests. Easier for them to be swallow if it's about infected pests to kill rather than people.
>>Skinner's men often come here to court the local girls. If there is an infection here, that's how it started
>Your life before any samples. I've got a feeling whoever let this happen will have plenty of samples to work with

File: Isla Calvara.png (65 KB, 727x810)

65 KB PNG

Skinner's men often visit Isla Calvara to court the local girls, you mention, there's a good chance than an infection reached the island this way. Searching out the local women might be the best place to start looking.

“Courting them,” one of the Ministry troops snorts out a laugh, “They were selling it, don't make it out to be anything more than that.”

“Glad to see you're familiar with the concept, Burnett,” Bergmann barks, causing the other troops to chuckle, “Perhaps you'll know where best to find these women, since you're the expert here.”

Burnett colours at the remark, but he doesn't let that stop him from answering. “They won't be doing it at home, in their villages. Tradition, local customs, that sort of thing – there's a place close to the middle of the island where they work, an old manor or something like that. You don't stumble across that sort of place, if you know what I mean,” he reaches across and taps the map, “The girls, they go back to their real homes pretty often. If one of them was carrying something nasty, that would let it spread further.”

“Then we'll need to check out this old manor as well. Burnett, I trust you'll be able to show us the way?” a faint smirk tugs at the corner of Bergmann's mouth as his underling nods, then he turns to look your way, “Good input, this should give us an extra area to focus on. From there, we'll spread out and cover the rest of the island.”

You're not familiar with the area, you tell Bergmann, is there anything you should know about Isla Calvara? Significant population centres, potentially hostile groups, anything like that?

“The population is mostly centred around three villages – San Merlin, San Lunasa and San Lyrica. We'll need to investigate all three for any signs of infection, and that doesn't count any smaller camps out in the jungle – or this charming little manor. As far as hostile groups go, I've never heard of anything serious in the area. A few disgruntled fishermen at most, but nothing I'd consider an organised resistance. With luck, we won't even need our rifles,” Bergmann looks down at his map for a few moments, “There's a number of farmers on the island as well, so we'll need to check over their animals. A beast can carry an infection, no different from a man.”

If there's anyone in these villages, you suggest, it might be better to tell them that you're looking for pests. They're more likely to cooperate that way, and there's no sense in causing a panic. Speaking of the locals, you continue, they may be carrying the infection without showing any visible symptoms. This new strain of the Red Eye Sickness is a subtle one, and not one that you fully understand yet. Be cautious, and be vigilant.

[1/2]

>>846084
Is the central manor called San Layla?

>>846084

“So hold up,” Burnett raises one hand, “Are you saying that anyone we meet out there could be infected with this crap?”

It's a risk, you admit, but you don't want them to burn anyone they see. The new strain doesn't seem to provoke the usual kind of violent rages that the northern strain is known for, so that should lessen some of the risk. Quarantine any survivors, but that's all – until you can know for certain whether they're infected or not, you don't want any needless deaths.

“So how do we know if someone is infected or not?” another of the soldiers asks quietly, “There has to be some kind of visual symptom, correct?”

Correct, you reply, but the symptoms are minor ones. Fever, dementia, bloodshot eyes and unnatural growths in the later stages... you list off the symptoms you've been warned about, stressing each word carefully. When you're finished, you look across to Levi. Well then, you ask, anything to add to that?

“Me? Oh well, nothing much,” Levi shrugs, feigning indifference, “I should warn you, though – I'm a pacifist, so you'll have to do any dirty work.” The assembled men scowl at this, as if the word – pacifist – had been the vilest curse imaginable, but Levi pays them no heed. “I would like some samples, as Bergmann says,” he continues, “Blood or tissue... anything works, really. I'd like the chance to study this, see what I can see.”

But these sample do not take priority over saving lives, you stress, you'd rather walk away without a sample than with a few dead colleagues. There should be plenty of time to get additional samples later, there's no sense in risking their lives for a few vials of blood.

“I suppose you're right,” Levi sighs heavily, “But there was one thing I wanted to say, a reminder for you all – the Red Eye Sickness, the northern strain or his new breed, has no known cure. It might be slower, but this new strain is still a death sentence. So, uh...” He swallows nervously, “So I want you all to keep me safe. That's all.”

Bergmann gives the doctor a dirty look before shaking his head. “Alright men, you all know what is expected of you, so suit up and get ready – we'll be arriving soon.”

-

“See that?” Burnett asks, “That doesn't look good.”

Following his gaze, you see the thick mist hanging over Isla Calvara. No, not mist – smoke. A thick grey smoke that clings to island like a shroud. You don't see any flames, anything that might indicate a fire burning out of control, but what else could it be? It's no natural fog, that's for certain.

You've got to agree with Burnett – it really doesn't look good. When the wind changes, and a thin wisp of that smog reaches your ship, it only gets worse.

[2/3]

>>846121
hype

>>846121

The mist doesn't quite smell like you expected it to. It's smokey enough, like burning wood, but there's also a harsh chemical edge to it – a sharp, almost metallic odour that practically slaps you in the face. Within a few seconds of that mist reaching you, a burning pain takes hold of your nose and lungs, taking hold and causing you – not just you, either – to break down coughing.

“Masks!” Levi shrieks, “Get your damn masks on!” Even as he cries out this warning, his voice grows muffled as he pulls the heavy mask over his head. You do the same, and the next lungful of air you take in feels cleaner, stale and filtered but otherwise harmless.

“Doctor, you mind telling me what the hell this is?” Bergmann barks, his mask barely taking the fury out of his words, “And don't even bother lying. I'll know, and so will Agent Borghild here.”

“Look, I don't-” Levi begins, his eyes wide behind the lenses of his mask, “I don't know exactly what this is, but I know it's dangerous. Some kind of poison, maybe a pesticide or something similar. I don't know if it's concentrated enough to kill a human being, but there's no sense in taking chances. We should be fine, so long as we keep these masks on.”

“Good for us,” Burnett mutters darkly, more to himself than anyone else, “You think the locals have masks?”

-

“When we arrive, I'm going to leave a team in San Merlin. The second team will be passing along the coast to San Lunasa. I'm taking Burnett's team, along with the doctor, and checking out this manor, then moving on to San Lyrica,” Bergmann explains, sweeping a hand across the dark, smokey island, “San Merlin is the biggest village on the island, with the largest population. San Lunasa, on the other hand, is likely to have the most animals. A lot of farmland out there. Now, if anyone runs into trouble, or needs assistance for any reason, they have orders to send up a flare. Even with this damn fog, we should be able to see it. Got your flares handy?”

Nodding, you pat the flares dangling from your belt. You only hope that you'll be able to fumble one out when the time comes – not an easy feat, with the thick protective gear you've been given. Heavy canvas, reinforced with leather in places, the suit feels more like a torture device in this heat. It took about two minutes for the sweat to drip into your eyes, and the breathing mask only made the ordeal that much worse.

“You're free to stick with any team you like,” Bergmann continues, “Or none of them. Like I said, you've got joint command here – you can follow your own plans. What are you thinking?”

>I'll stick with you. I don't want to let Levi out of my sight
>I'll stay in San Merlin. With the large population, that team might need extra help
>I want to investigate San Lunasa. Those beasts could be as much of a risk as the people
>Other

>>846181
>>I'll stay in San Merlin. With the large population, that team might need extra help

>>846181
>I'll stay in San Merlin. With the large population, that team might need extra help

>>846181
>>I'll stay in San Merlin. With the large population, that team might need extra help
Seems logical.

>>846181
>>I'll stay in San Merlin. With the large population, that team might need extra help
"Some kind of poison, maybe a pesticide or something similar." for the adult form of this shit, Henryk is not going to have a good time.

>>846181
>I'll stay in San Merlin. With the large population, that team might need extra help
We work better with people than with animals

You'll stay in San Merlin, you decide, and help out with the search there. The town has a large population, so the team might need some extra assistance. You trust Bergmann to keep a close eye on Levi by himself, and you're not all that good with animals. Besides, this way you can keep a close eye on the ship. You don't much fancy getting stranded out here.

“Got it. Let me just have a word with team one, make the introductions, and we'll be ready,” Bergmann looks across the deck of the ship, glancing at the ten bulky figures – all of them anonymous in their heavy suits. “Huh,” the tall southerner grunts after a while, “I didn't think this through.”

-

As the ship glides closer to Isla Calvara, Bergmann asks a few questions and groups you up with team one. Four men – two with hissing flamethrower and two with rifles – under the command of a man named Kole. It's hard to get a measure of the man, with just a glimpse of his eyes to go off, but he seems reliable enough. He doesn't argue when Bergmann introduced you, and the salute he offered was sharp enough.

“My original plan was to find a local leader – mayor, tribal chief, whatever – and question them,” Kole explains, in a tightly controlled tone, “If that fails, we'll have to go house to house for any survivors or, failing that, to gather up the bodies for disposal. I also suggest designating an empty house as a meeting point, somewhere to send any survivors we find. Depending on how many we find, and how many empty houses we can secure, I'd keep them isolated.”

All according to League regulations, you reply with a nod, very good. The situation on the ground might force things to change, but you don't see any problems with his plan.

“Very good,” Kole salutes again, “I'm looking forwards to working with you, Agent Borghild.”

-

Nobody is waiting to meet you when your ship pulls into port, the crude docks as barren and empty as a desolate forest. Even so, the Ministry men fan out and cover all angles with their rifles. If a threat should present itself, they'll be ready to take it down. You almost wish a threat would show up – it would be more comforting, in a perverse way, than this deathly silence. Even the usual insect noises have been snuffed out. You never thought you'd come to miss those shrieks.

“We're splitting up here,” Bergmann calls, “Team one, you're staying here. Team two, you're heading along the coastline. Team three, that means you Burnett, you're coming with me. You all know your orders, so jump to it!”

Slowly, shuffling under the weight of their weapons and protective gear, some of the men split off and move away. Even through the anonymous gear, it's easy to pick out Levi – he's the one do hangs back, lingering fearfully before the thought of being left behind gets him moving once again.

And then it's just you and your team, alone in this stillness.

[1/2]

>>846302

Loose dirt and grit crunches underfoot as you press ahead into San Merlin, carving a direct path towards the centre of the village. Once there, you can get a better idea of where to start looking. If the smoke looked thick from out at sea, it's practically choking from this close up. Visibility has been cut down to a matter of feet, and the failing light only makes it that much worse. The ugly sounds of your rasping breath fill your ears as you walk, trapped by the increasingly claustrophobic mask.

Even knowing the dangers, you find yourself longing to take it off, just for a moment. Still, rational sense prevails – it's not like you'd get any fresh air, even if you did take it off.

“We've got a problem,” Kole grunts, breaking the silence, “These buildings are too close together, too cramped. Any fire we start in the village will spread like... well, like wildfire. I don't fancy getting caught up in an out of control blaze.”

He's right – the buildings here are mostly wooden shacks, and often they press right up against one another. Good conditions for disease to spread, you think, even without a special outbreak to consider. One blast from a flamethrower, and the entire village could be gutted by fire.

“Sure clean things up, though,” one of the flamethrower troops chuckles, patting his weapon with a disturbing degree of fondness.

-

This was a marketplace once, you mutter as you step out into a wide empty space. There are even a few stalls left standing, although nothing remains of them other than the barren frames. Your team fans out, but a quick search of the area reveals nothing – no bodies, and definitely no survivors. At least your next stop is apparent enough, with the only stone building you've seen rising up ahead of you. It's big enough to be a leader's home, certainly.

Kole leads the way inside, slinging his rifle and taking out a brutal, heavy pistol. You do the same, covering him as he pushes on the door. Unlocked, it swings open on well-oiled hinges. As you stalk inside, a faint smell reaches you, only just piercing through the breathing apparatus. That alone is a sign, an indication of how terrible that scent would be without the masks. It's a smell of sickness, of decaying flesh and tainted blood, but also a scent of ocean salt and bile.

Someone died here. Probably multiple people.

“Damn it,” Kole hisses, the mask making his voice an inhuman thing, “Alright, we're going floor by floor, room by room if we have to. Let's find these bodies and get them out of here. Get a few samples for the doc while we're at it. After that... we'll search the rest of town. See if can find any survivors.”

He's more optimistic than you are, apparently.

[2/3]

>>846414

The ground floor is easy to search – it opens out into a single large room, a hall obviously meant for town meetings. A pained grimace crosses your face as you think of so many people packed into one room. True, you've never heard anything to suggest that the Red Eye Sickness can spread through the air, but you're not willing to take anything for granted. Until a few weeks ago, you had never heard anything to suggest the Red Eye Sickness was anything other than a northern affliction.

Situations can change.

“I've got a speech here,” Kole calls out from the front of the hall, from what could charitably be described as a podium, “Not much of one. Whoever was calling the shots around here, he wasn't much of an orator. Looks like they knew something was wrong here, but they didn't know what. The only advice he could give was for everyone to stay indoors, not to mix or mingle with each other. The best he could do, I guess, knowing as little as he did.”

So everyone is likely to be holed up inside their homes, you conclude, that makes things a little easier. Upstairs next, you tell Kole, you'll take point.

-

The smell gets that much worse as you reach the upper level of the building, strong enough to paint a lurid path right up to a sealed door. With thudding footsteps, you trudge up to the door and grip the handle, holding your pistol at the ready. Kole flanks you, moving with a surprising degree of care considering his bulky suit. Trading nods, you throw open the door and step into the stagnant, oily stench that had been waiting for you.

Something, a skulking form with too many legs, bursts out of a deep pool of shadow, scrabbling towards you with desperate speed. All too aware of how slow you are, the protective suit fighting against you every step of the way, you try and get a bead on the scuttling creature.

>Calling for a Firearms check. 1D100+10, aiming to beat 70. I'll take the highest of the first three results!

Rolled 56 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>846476

Rolled 71 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>846476
Ah shit.

Rolled 95 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>846476

You might be fighting against a fat layer of canvas, peering through filthy glass and struggling against a mounting fatigue, but you'll be damned if you're going to miss this shot. You've always taken pride in your marksmanship, practising long into the night on some occasions, and it's all paying off now. It might be a moving target, but the creature – just a shade larger than the average cat – isn't fast enough.

Before it can scuttle past you, through your legs and away, you bring your pistol down and pump two quick shots into it. The bullets easily pierce the creature's carapace, punching right through to kick up splinters of wood from the floorboards beneath. Needless to say, it doesn't survive the attack, crumpling down into a spreading pool of dark blood.

Kole, who hadn't even fired a shot, lowers his pistol. “Nice shot,” he offers after a pause, “Now what the hell did you just kill?”

The mature form, you guess, it's ugly enough at least.

-

As Kole carries the shattered carcass to a nearby table, you cast a slow look through the room. It's not a pretty sight, and the smell isn't much better. The bloody thing that lies sprawled out on the bed was a human, once, but now it barely resembles anything similar. Bloated and swollen, the folds of flesh have been ripped back from within. You're not stupid, you can put two and two together – the mature parasite came from within the body. Was he alive when it happened, you wonder, or was he lucky enough to die before suffering that last indignity?

Not that it matters now, you suppose. The end result was the same. One thing makes itself apparent, looking at the bloated corpse – it's swollen large enough that more than one parasite could have grown within it. Easily two, maybe even three. Shuddering, you consider the maths of it. At least two parasites for every man and woman – children might only support a single parasite – in San Merlin. No matter what estimates you make, you don't like the results.

-

“It'll make a good sample for the doctor,” Kole tells you, over the parasite's broken body, “But that's really all I can tell you. I'm not really what you'd call educated, so this is above my pay grade. I'll tell you this, though – these little fangs couldn't pierce our suits. We don't need to worry about getting bitten by these little horrors. Not much, I know, but I'm glad as hell to say it.”

Before you can agree, one of Kole's men burst in. “Boss, we've got a-” he pauses, “Shit, what the hell is that thing? I've never seen anything-”

“Can it, Sutter,” Kole snaps, “Get to the point!”

“Right,” Sutter pauses, “We've got a problem.”

Of course you do.

[1/2]

>>846580

“See, the wind shifted for a moment, and it lifted the fog for just a few seconds. That was long enough – I saw movement out there. People,” Sutter shakes his head, “I couldn't tell if they were ours or not. I thought it might have Bergmann's team coming back already, but... hell, you try telling one person apart from another. They were suited up, that's all I can tell you. Didn't even get the chance to count heads. Last I saw of them before the fog closed up again, they were headed this way.”

And he hasn't seen any flares, you ask, any signs that the others have run into trouble?

“No, nothing like that,” Sutter shakes his head again, “I thought maybe he'd just changed his plans, or wanted to pass on a message. Plenty of reasons for him to turn back and meet up. Bergmann, he has a habit of changing plans on the fly.”

“It's true,” Kole admits, “He does have a flair for improvisation. Not like this, though – this feels different. I couldn't say how, but...”

“I ain't promising anything, but I might be able to find them again,” Sutter offers slowly, “They weren't that far out, and they were headed this way. I reckon I could search them out, maybe run a message out to them. What do you think, boss? Uh... bosses?” Shouldering his rifle, he glances between you and Kole, eyes widening behind their glass veils.

“I'm not sure,” Kole hesitates, “I don't know who else would be out here. Look, all I know is, we've got a job to do here – we need to search this damn village for anything else we might be able to find. If Bergmann is coming to meet us, he won't be happy to find us slacking off. What do you say, Borghild?”

>You're right, we've got a job to do. No sense sitting on our hands
>Sutter, you go out and try to contact them. Any trouble, you get back here immediately
>I want to gather the men in here, wait for these men to approach us
>Other

>>846693
>>I want to gather the men in here, wait for these men to approach us
[Paranoia intensifies]

>>846693
>>Other
"The villagers here wouldn't have access to suits would they? So either Bergmann had a change of plans or we have an unknown element."

>I want to gather the men in here, wait for these men to approach us
Better safe than sorry. We'll have a better position here.

>>846693
>>I want to gather the men in here, wait for these men to approach us
Paranoid as fuck, not voting to shoot them on the spot just because of the very small chance of them actually being our people.

>>846693
>I want to gather the men in here, wait for these men to approach us

>>846716
I'll support this. It makes sense.

>>846693
>>I want to gather the men in here, wait for these men to approach us

>>846693
So. Anyone think the Doctor might not have been the only guy working with the conspiracy?

>>846760
> Not have one man stand out here waiting while the rest get into firing positions and watch out for getting flanked

>>846792
You mean within our current troops? Shit that would be bad.

My first thought is these unknown dudes are here to take notes on how the new strain is going. Like Isla Calvara is one big experiment for these fucks. Maybe they are trying to see how the parasite reacts to whatever poison is in the air that they probably released.

The villagers here wouldn't have access to suits like these, you ask, would they?

“Anything they could make, they'd be improvised – crude, and I doubt they'd have many of them,” Kole shakes his head slowly, “No, I don't think these sound like locals. The only other people with protective gear like this would be Bergmann's people, team two, or... some other group. Don't ask me who that might be, though, because I don't have a single damn idea.”

You do, and that just makes matters worse. These men might well be Levi's mysterious backers – or blackmailers, depending on how you look at it – here to clean up their mess, and any witnesses to it. Considering what you've seen, you'd definitely count as a witness. Maybe it's your paranoia at work, but you're soon drawing plans of your own – Bergmann might be an expert, but you've got your own experience with improvising things.

You want to gather the men in here, you tell Kole quickly, and wait for these men to approach the town. This is the most fortified building in the area, and it won't burn down because of a stray spark. You're not saying that it's going to end in a firefight – and you won't be the one to fire the first shot if it does – but you want to hold a strong position. If these men really are Bergmann's team, so be it – no harm, no foul. If not, you want every advantage you can get your hands on.

“I see,” Kole considers the idea, “That makes sense. Like you said, no harm done if it really is Bergmann out there. Alright, let's play it your way – Sutter, you go out and get the others. We're digging in here.”

-

“Hey,” Kole asks quietly, once Sutter has left, “Something's been bothering me.”

You'd be more surprised if he wasn't bothered by any of this.

“Right, sure, but I meant something specific. The doc said that this gas shit was a poison, right?” Kole pauses for a moment as he peers out the window, gazing fruitlessly at the murk beyond, “So why was that parasite thing still alive? Shouldn't it have been, you know, poisoned?”

It's a good question – and one you can't really answer. Levi might be able to offer a theory, but he's not here. With luck, he'll still be alive later to give you a smug, condescending explanation for all this. You'd welcome it, listening to whatever bile he can summon up with a smile if it meant getting the answers you seek.

“Yeah, I guess you're right. The science crap can wait,” Kole reaches up as if to wipe sweat away from his brow, only for his mask to get in the way. Old habits are hard to break. “Well, anyway, I'd rather-” his voice cuts off sharply, “Movement. Down below. Close.”

He's right – you can see shapes shifting through the fog. Carried before the dim silhouettes, you see the orange glow of dancing fires.

Flamethrowers.

[1/2]

>>846865
If these guys try to torch the place while we are in here open fire. Bergmann wouldn't do that.

>>846886
Yep, if they look like they're about to start fires just start shooting. They're definitely not Bergmann or any of his men.

That's a pretty big cliffhanger.

>>846865

The longer you watch them for, the more you learn about the mysterious new arrivals. For one thing, there are far too many of them to be Bergmann's party, even if he had joined up with team two once more. You count at least ten silhouettes, and you wouldn't be surprised if more of them were lurking further back, although only four of them are carrying flamethrowers. Still, four flamethrowers is no laughing matter, not something to underestimate.

“They're going to burn the town,” Kole whispers, “Damn it, they're not even going to bother checking the buildings for survivors.”

That settles it – the numbers, perhaps you could find some explanation for those, but not this. Bergmann wouldn't light up the town with barely a second glance, especially not with your team still inside it. That leaves you with only one other option – strike the first blow.

-

Glass explodes outwards as you bring the butt of your rifle down on the window, smashing every dagger sharp shard out of the frame. As Kole and Sutter follow your example, you brace the rifle against the window frame and take aim, holding your sights over one of those bulky figures. It would be an easier shot with a scope, but you're not going to gripe about what you do or don't have.

Taking the shot, you watch as your chosen target stiffens and tumbles. Other shots follow as your companions fire away, but the element of surprise is soon lost. Returning fire causes you to duck down, shattered stone bursting from the walls around you as the enemy bullets stitch their way across your position. More than once, you feel chips of stone patter against your protective suit, thankfully unable to pierce the thick canvas. All of a sudden, the sluggish weight and unspeakable heat feel like minor complaints, acceptable sacrifices.

Crawling low, you move to another window and line up your next shot. Roving lights mark out the enemies with flamethrowers while the riflemen travel unseen through the gloom, little more than shadows. For a brief moment, indecision chokes you, your sights flicking from one target to another without firing a shot.

>Focus on the flamethrowers
>Focus on the riflemen
>Send up a flare and call for aid
>Other

>>847050

>Sorry, that's unclear. To specify, we can fire off a flare in addition to any other plans we might have. Just to clarify our options

>>847050
>>Focus on the flamethrowers
We could get them to blow up if we nail a shot right? That would probably whittle their numbers. A fire is more dangerous than just getting shot at too since one bullet isn't going to set the town ablaze.

>>847050
>>Focus on the flamethrowers
Only 4 of them and we can't let them get close. We can also see them better.

>>847062
How many men do we have vs them? 6v9?

>>847050
>>847062
Alright, cool.
>Send up a flare and call for aid
>Focus on the flamethrowers

>>847063
I considered that, but thought that might set the nearby buildings on fire.

>>847050
>>Focus on the flamethrowers
and send up a flare
>>847063
thats what im thinking but thta can also burn down the town and et more of those things out

>>847050
>>Focus on the flamethrowers

>>847050
>>Focus on the flamethrowers
Burning the town down while we're still inside would kill us, so taking them out for the time being is the best idea. I'm unsure if sending up a flare is a good idea: while that would alert Bergmann and the others, that would also alert the conspirators of a problem on their island, wouldn't it?

>>847075
its going to take some time for the other teams to get here but at lest they will know that shit is going down

After this is over we are probably going to need some identifying shit on our suits to make us and our allies distinguishable from the conspirators.

>>847071
I don't think there's any need to send a flare, let the other team do their job. Though it probably is wise to let them know they aren't alone here, but they have guns too so they can handle it. The island is pretty much done for so all we need to do is search for any survivors and burn a bunch of stuff yeah?

>>847050
>>Send up a flare and call for aid

>>Focus on the flamethrowers

Have our Flamers prepare for flanking from the riflemen.

Also, keep in mind that sending up a flare doesn't just get Bergmen over here, it lets him know there's trouble. There might be more enemies out there and letting him know could save his squad.

>>847096
I'm not liking the numbers they have on us, at best it's 3 v 7. All the other guys in our team are all over town.

>>847068

>We have five men, two with flamethrowers. They have nine, three of which are armed with flamethrowers - although they could recover an extra unit from their fallen

>>847114
Oh, we did get our guys here? I thought these guys showed up before we could get them here. Still don't like the numbers they have on us.

>>847111
I guess I just like the idea of handling things quietly, tossing a flare does make it pretty damn obvious that "oh hey people are investigating us, better try to put some holes in them."

>>847114
6v9 but we have cover and height. I think this is manageable.

>>847114
>They have nine, three of which are armed with flamethrowers - although they could recover an extra unit from their fallen

That we know of.

>>847050
> Toss up a flare

>Focus on the flamethrowers

They're easier to take out due to the light and we might as well take care of them before they can close to a range where they're a threat.

>Sorry, this post might take a little longer than planned. I'll try and keep it as prompt as possible.

>Camilla is having a firefight with an Umbrella Corporation clean up crew.

>Meanwhile Henryk has been [Inarticulate yelling] at his two favorite Scholars for the past half hour.

Focus on the enemies with the flamethrowers, you order, you won't survive this if they burn the whole town down around you. Once that threat has been taken care of, focus on the riflemen. Keep low, converse ammo and watch out for any reinforcements. That's an order, you add sharply, now jump to it!

“Yes sir!” Kole and Sutter snap back, their instincts taking over. They're both experienced men, but this kind of firefight is something else – nothing in the land would have been enough to prepare them for this. Your own nerves are taut, shrill panic lurking just below the surface of your mind, waiting for the perfect moment to break free and run rampant. Gritting your teeth, grinding them beneath your mask, you force back the fear for another few moments.

You wish you had a cigarette right now. You really wish you had a cigarette right now.

“What do you want us to do?” one of the flamethrower carriers – you never did get their names – asks, “Hold fast here, or...?”

Get down to the entrance, you call out, and prepare to counter-attack if the enemies get close. Those flamethrowers are a last resort, you add, pistols only if they can get away with it. You'll do your best to keep the enemies back, and-

Another round of bullets clatters against your cover, one of them even flying through the empty window frame to splinter the ceiling a few paces away. Cursing, you drop low again and sight down the length of your rifle, allowing the pilot light of an enemy flamethrower to guide your aim. Tracking a dimly lit shape as it moves from one street to another, you squeeze off another shot. When you see the figure drop, a victorious snarl peels back your lips. The fallen man struggles to rise, and you waste no time in pumping a second shot into him. This time, he doesn't move.

“Damn it, I can barely see them!” Sutter curses, “This damn mask, the lenses are... shit, it's too dark!”

Lowering your rifle, you fumble for one of the flares hanging from your belt, trying to tug it free with fat, suited fingers – trembling fingers. When it finally comes loose in your hand, it takes you a long time – too long – to find the cord. Wrong end, you mutter deliriously, you were groping at the wrong end! Flipping the flare over, and almost dropping it in the process, you lean out the window and tug hard on the cord. With a soft thump and a violent hiss, the flare shoots straight up into the air and burst into life, casting a bloody red light across the dead village.

You don't have time to admire the light. As soon as the flare is up and away, you throw yourself down as flat as you can. In the moments that follow, it seems as though every gun in the world opens fire on you, hostile eyes drawn by the sudden light.

[1/2]

>>847294
Crap! We should have warned our men that we were tossing a flare so they would be ready to spot and shoot the riflemen.

At least the lenses should keep the flare from ruining their nightsight.

Sadly it's probably doing the same for the enemy.

Do we have any more flares we could shoot off at the enemies position to expose them?

>>847294
keep that marsk on trooper!!\
dont need you getting sick
hopinng they have the same issuse with there suits as well just fire in there geranly area
holding till help comes

>>847320
its not soo much as its night time more that theres soo much fog/smoke and shit that we cant see
fuck gettign there at night.
i wounder if we can use one of the tanks for the flamethowing as a improviesed bomb??

>>847320
It's better for us though. They lost one of their advantages: concealment.

>>847332
>i wounder if we can use one of the tanks for the flamethowing as a improviesed bomb??

Ehhhh, I don['t think we're particularly technically minded in that regards.

I mean, it's possible one of the Flamer guys could do it, but they seem to value them more than their firstborn son.

Also concerns about spreading fire & effectiveness.

Man pre-flare Henryk would have been in his element in this smog. Probably could of stealth killed most of them.

>>847349
its more a last rerost thing
i mena if we had better eyes/ vision
we could have taken the gass valve off let it fly towareds the bad group hten try to shot it
but it is its not gippng to happen

>>847390
oh yer would have been a killing flide not even a contest hell could have killed then without marks on there suits then could use it to hide and try to find the others

>>847395
Jesus fucking christ go to school or get a tablet pen for what must be huge fucking sausage fingers.

Anyways I suppose we could try to shoot the tank that got dropped, first with a bullet and then with a flare if we have another if the bullet doesn't ignite it.

>>847405
i have lean fingers thanks just bad at spelling
and probs typed too fast then

>>847424
I mean, I'm terribly sorry if you have a disability, that sucks.

But please don't feel you have to sacrifice quality for time.

Anyways, the nice thing about spelling is that it's a skill you can learn and improve. Even with a disability you can still make progress.

So, uh, yeah. Give it a shot, pretty sure it's doable although it might take some time and effort and not be terribly interesting.

>>847294

When the rippling wave of gunshots finally dies away – and you thought it never would – you force yourself back up and risk a glance at the battlefield, the flare's light offering you a new perspective on things. The advantage seems to have swung in your favour, with the hostile forces reeling. In the few seconds that you risk poking your head up for, you count pilot lights. Three of the flamethrower carriers have fallen, dead or close enough, with a fourth being dragged into cover by a pair of his allies. That's one threat you won't need to worry about, at least.

Before you can get too confident, a close shot bursts against the window frame and showers you with a fresh hail of gravel. More out of surprise than anything else, you fall back and blink slowly, staring up at the ceiling. It shifts and writhes as you lie there, warmth spreading against the side of your head. Sweat, you mutter as your ears ring, just sweat. Reaching for the strength to rise, you draw in a deep breath.

It burns, like you're being scalded from the inside out. Coughing and spluttering, you roll over and press a hand to the side of your mask. It comes away splattered with blood – just a few drops, nothing like a fatal wound, but the implications are bad enough. Your suit, the only barrier standing between you and this poison fog, and it's been cut open by shrapnel.

Focus. Think carefully. The next moments are crucial – panic is not acceptable. Pressing your hand against the puncture, you take a shallow, tentative breath. It's not pleasant, but it's breathable air – a luxury, under the circumstances.

“They're falling back, we've sent them running!” Kole shouts, turning away from the window, “Did you hear me? They're running! We've got them on the-” Seeing you there, sprawled out on the floor, his tone drops from victorious to dismay. “Shit, we've got a man down, someone get a medic... the closest damn thing we have to a medic!”

You're fine, you try to shout back, it's nothing! Just a rip in your suit, you'll be fine so long as you get it patched up soon. You try to say that, but the words come out in a rasping snarl instead.

And then you pass out.

>I think I'm going to have to pause here, my mind is getting kinda blank. I'll pick this up on Monday, and I'll stick around in case anyone has any comments or questions.
>Thanks for playing along today!

>>847497
Hope that fog is only lethal in long exposure.

Thanks for running.

>>847497
Thanks for running Moloch.

>>847497
And then Camilla died. The end. Thanks for running Moloch.

>>847497
>>847460
thanks for runing
also was good shit going down with the purge
.
hmm its seems like your sorta insulting me -.- beaning bad at spelling dosnt make the person a have disability though i could probs get better or at lest type slower and then read over it like do you think anyone that isnt the best at something makes them have a disability? like how was that your frist idea about this??

File: Disability fetish.png (146 KB, 350x210)

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>>847529
Honestly your spelling is exceptionally bad and if you don't have a disability and it's just a matter of apathy then it's pretty disrespectful and lazy to the people you expect to read it.

A disability isn't an offensive thing to have, it's not something you chosen to deal with.

But writing with so many errors that it's pretty much incomprehensible is just a dick move. I mean, spell check exists if you really can't be arsed to learn how to communicate with the written word.

You aren't "not the best" at spelling, but genuinely failing to convey your meaning in writing. It's degrading to humanity as a whole when you try to defend that level of spelling because you're just too lazy to do it right.

>>847497

Thanks for running! I have faith Camilla isn't dead because you wouldn't do that to us without making us roll at least.

Also I know your fetish.

>>847497
Thanks for running, Moloch!

>>847611
> it's pretty disrespectful and lazy to the people you expect to read it.

I mean lazy and disrespectful there.

I actually do have mild dyslexia and tend to transpose words in my sentences.

>>847611

No, I suppose it's no real spoiler to say that Camilla isn't going to drop dead because of this. That would be pretty unfair, I feel.

Should I be worried?

>>847529
At this point it's obvious that you're just a stupid child who hasn't learned proper english. Shame that you're having us suffer through reading your nonsensical garbage.

>>848831
Could always hide his ID.

>>848831
Apparently it's not even that, he's just too apathetic to correct his spelling mistakes.

I've never seen a written mumble before, but I guess this would be it.

>>848831
>>847529
the only nice thing I can say is that I know one other anon who spells worse.

and it's not you because it is NOTICEABLY worse. Yes.

>>848831
>>848860
>>849152
hahahh love it guys
must realy love spelling
like i care anyways

>>851759
Quick question buddy, you the same guy that made skat park a meme? Don't wanna drop any names in case it isn't who I think it is.

>>849152
you can find this guy in black company quest too, completely incomprehensible

When your eyes flutter open and you see the same old ceiling above you, blind panic is your first reaction. It's your second reaction as well, and it would have been your third if not for the sharp breath you draw in. No burning lungs, no poisoned air. As a tentative calm descends, you touch a gloved hand to the side of your mask. A crude patch has been plastered over the rip, a thorough layer of medical tape holding it in place. Even so, it's only after you take a few more breaths that you start to believe you're safe.

“At ease, soldier,” Bergmann growls, “You're safe now.”

Safe, you rasp, really?

“Well, maybe not safe,” he admits, “But nobody's shooting at us. That'll come as quite a change of pace, from what Kole told me. Had yourself quite the siege.”

Those bastards were going to burn down the town, you murmur, burn it down around you. Take you with it, if they could. Fighting back was your only option – your back was up against the wall, all you could do was push back.

“Easy, I'm not accusing you of anything. In fact, I had my own encounter with these people. I was taking my team back, following your flare, when we ran into a group of men. That's not an exaggeration, the mists were so thick that we almost bumped into each other. Didn't take them long to recover, and they were shooting at us before we knew what was what,” shaking his head, Bergmann's tone darkens, “Lost a good man, and we were lucky to get off that lightly – could have lost a lot more. Levi got away without a scratch, of course. His kind always does.”

And the hostile forces, you croak, what about them? Did he manage to take any of them alive?

“No, but not for want of trying. We got one of them cut off from the rest of his friends, and I was sure he'd surrender. It's what a sane man would do, in his position,” Bergmann rises from the desk he had been leaning on, “The bastard shot himself, not a moment of hesitation. So much for that source of information. Well, at least we've got their bodies, not that there's much to learn from those.”

Slowly, leaning heavily on the wall, you fight against the stiffness in your bones and stand. So, you prompt, what did he learn?

“You don't waste any time, do you?” a distorted laugh seeps from Bergmann's impassive mask, “Their suits were the same kind as ours, an old Ministry design, but they didn't have any markings. Even these ones have manufacturing details printed on the inside, albeit in a form that only ants could read. These ones were completely clean – nothing that could be traced back to a source. Quite deliberate, of course.”

Of course.

[1/3]

>>855354

“Same story for their weapons, although we've got a few tricks that might dig up a little extra information. Something about the metal used – northern steel is different to southern stuff, but don't ask me about the details,” the Ministry officer pauses, “No identification on the bodies, but that's about what I expected. They wouldn't go to this much effort to stay clean and then carry their papers with them. They're not stupid.”

As you limp over to the window and lean out, looking across the town, you wait for Bergmann to continue. It'll be bad news, but you need to hear everything. Outside, the mists seem a little thinner than before – or is that just your imagination?

“They're all dead,” Bergmann announces suddenly, in a strangely matter of fact voice, “Over in San Lunasa, the beasts were lying dead in the fields, bloated and eaten away from within – the people too, I'm told. San Lyrica was the same, and so were the women in their little manor. All dead. We've not finished sweeping San Merlin, but things aren't looking good. We're not even trying to move the bodies – when it's time to leave, we'll just burn the whole village.”

You had come to expect as much, but to hear it said so plainly – as if he had been discussing the weather – still causes you to wince. Burning the village, after everything you did to keep it intact, hurts you on some vague level. It's the logical choice, of course, and it'll be done in a safe, controlled way, but still – it feels like a failure on your part.

“It's not your fault,” he says firmly, as if plucking the thoughts from your mind, “There was nothing we could have done. Save your blame for the people responsible for this mess – we'll call them to account sooner or later.”

“Sir,” Kole hurries in, sketching a rough salute, “We've finished our sweep. There's nothing left, no survivors. We've taken samples, catalogued everything, but... we've done all we can. All that's left now is decontamination.”

A nice and euphemistic word, that. You all know exactly what it really means.

-

San Merlin burns, gutted by the hungry fires that sweep through the cramped streets and feast on the brittle wooden buildings. Safe from your position on the retreating ship, all you can do is watch as the infected village is wiped from the map. Further into Isla Calvara, two more pillars of black smoke – far thicker than the grey, fading mist – mark out the island's other two settlements.

There's a terrible, almost hypnotic power in the sight of so much being destroyed – homes, shops, whole lives reduced to ash.

“Come on,” Bergmann grunts, “I want to see what the good doctor has to say about all this.”

[2/3]

>>855356

Doctor Levi looks nervous, and you can't say you blame him. Now that you've stripped off the protective gear, you can see just how dark the mood has grown, reading fury and resentment on the faces of Bergmann's men. They all want someone to blame, and Levi – an outsider here – is an easy target.

Then again, maybe the tangle of dead parasites lying on the table in front of him is a factor. Every so often, Levi glances down to check that the creatures are really dead. There are four of the little fiends, including the one you shot dead, and their sickly scent is slowly turning your stomach. As you watch, Levi pulls on a long pair of white linen gloves and sorts through the corpses, separating them out and straightening their limbs with fastidious care. One only of them, the one you killed, has any kind of noticeable injuries.

“I'd just like to remind you,” he says eventually, “This isn't really my area of expertise. I deal with chemicals and medicine, not... these things.”

“And you're still likely to know more than the rest of us put together,” Kole mutters, “Although I hate to admit it.”

“Well, yes,” a smug note enters Levi's voice, “I certainly won't argue with that. Alright then, since I'm the closest thing to an expert you've got, where do you want to start?”

>Have you been able to figure out anything more about that gas?
>Were these other parasites dead when you found them?
>I suppose you had no idea that there would be other men here... right?
>I had a question... (Write in)
>Other

>>855359
>>Have you been able to figure out anything more about that gas?
>>Were these other parasites dead when you found them?

>>855359
>>Have you been able to figure out anything more about that gas?
>Other
Camilla, and maybe others, also breathed in that gas -- it's more important to figure out the effects of that on us, first.

Then, ask about the parasites, in particular, how much they match with the characteristics of the Red Eye parasite. (Or, to not cause such a panic among the northerners among us, any known parasite instead of the Red Eye.)

>>855359
>Have you been able to figure out anything more about that gas?
>>Were these other parasites dead when you found them?

>>855359
>Have you been able to figure out anything more about that gas?
>Were these other parasites dead when you found them?
>Other: To Bergmanh: those other people must have come from somewhere. Either they have a base on the island or there's a ship somewhere at the coast. You didn't see anything like that?

Has he been able to figure out anything more about that gas, you ask, or come up with a few theories at least? His area of expertise is chemical, as he said, so you're expecting something useful.

“Well, it's definitely poisonous, and likely a very specific batch of poison,” Levi taps a finger against his lips as he thinks, “These other men brought it with them – large metal cans of the stuff. They set them up so that the wind could carry the vapours across the rest of the island. Quite ingenious really, although they obviously had no concern about collateral damage. Hardly a precise means of delivery, after all.”

“He's right,” Bergmann confirms, “We found the cans near San Lyrica, on some raised ground. We could have taken one back, but it would have been too much of a burden. At the time, I wanted to move as quickly as possible.”

You got exposed to the gas, you tell him, and others might have done so as well. Can you expect any lasting effects from it?

“I'm going to presume you weren't exposed for very long – if it had been a long time, I doubt you'd be speaking to me now. It's fatal in high concentrations, or over a long period of exposure to the weaker concentrations. We found...” he pauses and glances across at Bergmann, who gives a weary nod, “We found a small camp out in the jungles, nothing that appeared on any map. The people there were dead, no sign of any infection.”

A murmur of anger ripples through the room, anger at the sheer blind malice of it.

“Anyway, you don't look like you're about to drop down dead, so I wouldn't worry about it. Check in with a doctor in a few days time, or if anything changes. Your throat hurts, I presume?” Levi nods to himself, “I believe the gas burns the lungs, so breathing might hurt. I'd suggest avoiding cigarettes for a few days, as well.”

Damn, you mutter as you take the cigarette – still unlit – out of your mouth. Pointing with it, you gesture at the three dead, but unmarked, parasites. These creatures, you ask, were they dead when the men found them?

“They were, yes,” one of the Ministry soldiers confirms, “We only came across a very small number of living creatures. Most of them were like this. If I had to guess, I'd say the gas got them.”

“But it didn't get all of them,” with a showman's deft touch, Levi gestures to the dead parasites, “And I have a theory as to why! You see, the Red Eye parasite – if we are to assume that this is the same thing, which I think it is – has a pretty short life cycle. It lives only a short time, just long enough to create a new generation. If you believe the literature, this makes them very adaptable. Are you following me so far?”

Condescending bastard, you think to yourself as you nod.

[1/2]

>>855398

“Now, to continue my theory. I said that the poison gas was a specific concoction, likely created with a single reason in mind. If we assume that that reason was to kill these little monsters,” Levi gestures to one of the parasites, “We might also assume that some are adapting to resist the poison. The weak parasites died, the stronger strains survived. Now, I should hope that I don't need to say this, but that makes them dangerous – incredibly dangerous.”

“I have a question,” Bergmann asks quietly, “According to your theory, would the next generation of the parasite – the offspring of this resistant strain – also be resistant to this poison?”

“I believe so, yes,” Levi shrugs, “If I may be so bold as to offer a suggestion, I'd say that these unidentified men might have been trying to recover some of the resistant parasites. Maybe it wasn't their priority, but they would make a valuable asset to the right person.”

Assuming that these things really are the Red Eye parasite, you point out, can he confirm that?

“Unfortunately, I can,” the doctor nods, “Although I would personally suggest that these creatures have grown so different to the original parasite that they might as well be a different species altogether. For the sake of categorisation, however, they share the same roots as the Red Eye parasite. Whether you think that's good news or not is your business.”

“Moving on,” Bermann cuts in, “I wanted to discuss these unidentified men we were attacked by. If you've looked down in the storage rooms, you might have noticed our guests – I'm taking the bodies back to New Odyss. Once we're back, we can give the bodies a proper examination and take photographs of them. It might be worth seeing if anyone recognises them. I'm not particularly optimistic about it, but it could get us a name. At this point, I'm prepared to try anything.”

You've got an idea, you tell him, something to look into. These men needed to come from somewhere – if it wasn't Isla Calvara itself, they would have needed a ship to arrive by. If the men are dead, that ship should still be somewhere along the coastline. Did he see anything like that?

“No,” Bergmann slowly shakes his head, frustration darkening his features, “But I wasn't looking. Alright, you've got a good point there – I'm taking this ship around. We'll circle the island and see what we can find. Any unidentified ships, we're boarding them and searching. Is that understood?”

You, along with the rest of the Ministry troops, all nod your agreement.

[2/3]

>>855420

By now, the haze of poison gas has thinned significantly, but nobody is willing to go without their protective masks, least of all you. You've tasted that poison already, and you're not particularly eager to get another dose. The heat, the trapped sweat and the tunnel vision... all those don't seem so bad in comparison. You did, however, get a new and undamaged mask. The thought that it was taken from a dead man should probably bother you, but it doesn't.

Passing the pillar of black smoke that marks out San Merlin, your ship crawls north up the islands western shore. All the while, you keep watch for any ships – anything at all, in fact. Just as you're turning right to pass around an outstretch of creeping jungle, you see the glint of metal peering out from within the trees.

“There,” Bergmann hisses, a split second after you see it, “Take us in, get us closer. Everyone, keep an eye out for anything else – I don't want us getting ambushed out here.”

-

The ship has no name – no markings at all. That's becoming an irritatingly consistent theme, you think to yourself as you survey the ship. It might as well be a derelict, empty and abandoned, but that doesn't mean you lower your guard. When the time comes to board the enemy ship, you do so with pistols at the ready. Levi remains on your own ship, under armed guard, and the rest of the Ministry troops seem to appreciate that little detail.

“Fan out, I want every inch of this ship searched,” Bergmann orders, “I want to see any documents you find – maps, orders, anything like that.”

They won't find anything, you mutter as the men file away, it won't be that simple.

“I know. They've been careful – almost paranoid – so far, I can't see that changing,” Bergmann shakes his head, “But I want to be sure. Sooner or later, everyone slips up. Everyone makes a mistake, and that's what gets you killed.”

It's one of the more interesting philosophies you've heard.

-

With Bergmann, you search the helm of the ship, looking down at the unfamiliar controls. You've never really been an expert in ships, so most of them are meaningless to you. What you do recognise, however, is a radio – or something like a radio. There's no dial to tune it, so you assume it's locked into one frequency.

“Just like the one Levi mentioned,” Bergmann mutters. He reaches out to click the radio on, but pauses. “What do you think?” he asks, “Want to give it a shot?”

>Sure, let's see if we can get an answer
>Leave it, I don't want to risk alerting them
>Get Levi up here, have him make the call
>Other

>>855464
>>Sure, let's see if we can get an answer

Levi isn't supposed to be here so he shouldn't make the call. He should only make the call from his own radio. Pretend like we are one of the clean up crew that got separated from his squad during the firefights in the smog and we just made it back to the boat. Requesting orders, etc.

>>855478
That's what I was thinking. Maybe have Bergmann talk since I somehow feel like there weren't any women in the unnamed squad. Or maybe I'm overthinking things and Camilla can pull this off somehow.

>>855478
That sounds like it might work. We have the only ships off the island, after all, unless they have more, if this doesn't work.

>>855480
Nah I think you're right. Better safe than sorry.

>>855478
Nah. Pretend to be Islanders asking for help. Say that there are strange men attacking and burning everything down.

No way they won't have a call sign or anything.

>>855510
Why would they even reply though if that's the case? What they gonna say "fuck off you're fucked"?

Sure, you decide, might as well see if you can get an answer. One thing, however – you'd rather let Bergmann make the call. He was the one who recovered the bodies, did he find any women among them?

“No, they were all men,” Bergmann shakes his head, “A good mix of northerners and southerners as well.”

Equal opportunities, you muse, how nice of them. Here's a cover story – he pretends to be a member of the attacking team, asking for new orders after getting involved in a firefight. It should work, and the suggestion of panic should help cover up any slips or mistakes. Anything he'd add?

“That sounds like a good plan,” the tall southerner nods to himself, “Hold on, I want to make sure everyone shuts up – the last thing we need is for someone to come yelling while I'm in the middle of a delicate conversation.”

Good plan, you agree.

-

Once the orders have been given Bergmann settles down in front of the radio, fumbling with the speaker and earphones. He has large hands, and the pieces are surprisingly small. Very advanced, you consider, far sleeker than the radio equipment you've seen before. Trading a look with Bergmann, he shrugs and flicks a switch on the radio. A blurt of static seeps out of the earphones, causing him to wince, before the crackling noise ceases. In its place, a cold voice sneers out a single word.

“Report,” the voice orders. Bergmann looks around at you again, raising an eyebrow.

“There has been a problem,” Bergmann answers slowly, “Some of the locals have offered armed resistance. We have men down, and others injured. I was cut off from the rest of the team. Awaiting new orders.”

A pause, and then the voice continues. “Continue with the clean-up,” it orders, “A pack of motley savages should not be presenting you with so much trouble. Have you deployed the compound as ordered?”

“Yes, we have,” Bergmann frowns, “But some of the locals seem to have improvised crude protective masks, those are reducing the compound's effectiveness.”

“Continue with the clean-up,” the voice repeats, now sounding more bored than anything else, “And then proceed to the next target. Await reinforcements, and then continue your purge.”

“The next target, understood,” Bergmann winces, and you can't help but mirror his expression. An admission of ignorance here would blow his cover, and he knows as much. “I've got eyes on the rest of my team,” he continues, “Returning to my duties. Over and out.”

The line dies, without so much as an acknowledgement. Sighing, Bergmann returns the radio equipment to its cradle and gives you a shrug.

“Well then,” he says, “They've got another target lined up. Any idea what it might be?”

>No idea, sorry
>I think it might be... (Write in)
>Other

>>855539
>>I think it might be...
Boneyard has already been attacked so maybe they're going for another island nearby? I want to hazard a guess that they'd target that New Odyss eventually since that seems like a good place if they plan to clean up the entire south.

>>855549
Oh right, the Boneyard. While the Boneyard has been attacked, its stage is the 'being eaten by parasites' stage, not the clean-up stage these people are apparently doing. I suppose the men here are supposed to burn the Boneyard down, to get rid of all the parasites before they can escape.

The question is how to react? Leave? We got evidence of plague, though there isn't much more we can do, I think. Or push in further, to burn out the source?

>>855539
>>I think it might be...
Boneyard is a good choice and anywhere around *Isla Saive*

It might be the Boneyard, you guess, although you're not certain. It's already infected by the parasite, if your information is to be considered reliable, but that leaves you with two options. The first possibility is that your enemies will leave it, letting the parasite run loose. The second option is that they'll move in to clean up, to get rid of both the parasites and any witnesses. If it's not the Boneyard, your next guess would be New Odyss – if these people are trying to wipe the south clean, it would a good place to start.

“Would they really dare attack New Odyss?” Bergmann muses, “Hell, maybe they would. These bastards could have an entire army ready and waiting to strike. If we knew their motivation, we might be able to make a better guess, but we don't even know that much. Levi is the closest thing to a source we have, and he knows nothing – just that these bastards like to play with dangerous toys.”

It's better than nothing, you reply with a shrug, and maybe the rest of the ship might hold other clues. Even something as simple as an annotation on a map could be the key to their next move.

“Maybe,” he growls.

-

“Nothing?” Bergmann snarls, once all of his men have returned, “Not a damn thing?”

“They were careful,” Kole replies, not meeting his leader's gaze, “We didn't even find anything that you could call personal effects. This thing might as well be a ghost ship, for all the traces left behind on it. Creeps me the hell out, if I'm honest. It's like these people aren't even human.”

“Don't talk crap!” slashing his hand through the air, Bergmann turns his burning eyes to Levi, “Doctor, can you shed any light on this?”

“I don't know why you think I'd be able to,” he answers, “I'm not exactly a member of their inner circle, I'm hardly privy to their private orders. I'm not even a damn soldier, so don't expect me to start thinking like one!”

Quiet down, you tell both of them, getting frustrated won't solve anything. Assuming their next target IS the Boneyard, you continue, what does that mean? It means they'll be moving in to fight Skinner's men, to destroy any evidence of their activities – Skinner's men included.

“No great loss,” Bergmann grunts, “We've got the evidence we need. Let them clean up their own mess.”

“As I said, I'm not a soldier,” Levi says suddenly, “So perhaps my advice isn't worth a damn, but... we have twelve people here – eleven soldiers – so why not divide our strength? We have two ships now, don't we?”

As much as you hate to admit it, he's got a point.

[1/2]

>>855623
It's as though you planned for us to find the ship from the start Moloch. Did you or are you a genius of improvisation?

>Sorry for the delay, this next bit is coming out a bit slowly

>>855691

Total improv, in this case.

>>855704
God DAMN you're good

>>855623
>“No great loss,” Bergmann grunts, “We've got the evidence we need. Let them clean up their own mess.”

I dunno, I think Skinner and his men might be useful in this situation. The enemy of my enemy is something we can use. They probably want vengeance against the conspirators. We just got to find them a target.

Though if they do all die we can take back the Majestic no problem. That said I am still if the opinion that we can get the ship back by negotiating with Skinner. Mixture of telling him how bad keeping that ship around is and a sweet deal. Ministry support in stomping out the infection on his island perhaps?

>>855623

“I want to think about this,” Bergmann snaps, waving you and the other Ministry troops away, “Ten minutes, and then I want you all back here. Think well, and be sure to tell me if you get any bright ideas. Now go on, get out of here.”

He's in no mood for an argument, you sense, so you amble out onto the ship's deck without arguing. Leaning on the railing, you stick a cigarette between your lips and light it. The first drag lights a fire within your chest, and you break down in a harsh, painful cough.

“I warned you,” Levi sighs, taking a nearby spot at the railings, “You Ministry types never listen to medical advice. Ironic, really. Well, anyway, you shouldn't smoke those things at all – they're terrible for you. Nine out of ten Scholars agree.”

And nine out of ten Scholars are scumbags, you reply, so you'll be forgiven if you don't take their advice without hesitation.

“Charming,” Levi laughs, “And to think, I came here to offer you a spot of advice. Like I told you, before we left, my... associates will be expecting an update. Get me back to New Odyss, and I might be able to coax a little information out of them. Now, I know what this looks like...”

Like he's trying to get back to New Odyss, you finish for him, back to relative safety.

“You make it sound like I'm shirking my duty!” the doctor protests, “But, well, I won't deny it – I'd much rather see out this little incident in the comfort of my own home. Frankly, all this travelling and doing outside stuff... it's not really for me. I'm sure men like Bergmann are perfectly suited to it, but I'd rather stay inside with a good book. Anyway, that's just my take on things.”

And what if his information – assuming he can get any information, that is – points you in the wrong direction? What if, you ask, you go running off to New Odyss while your enemies are busy cleaning up the Boneyard?

“Well, that's why I suggested splitting up,” Levi shrugs, “And besides, Bergmann has a point – so these guys wipe out the Boneyard... so what? You don't strike me as the type to cry over a few savages, and we wouldn't exactly be losing a pillar of the community.”

You'll admit, he's not exactly wrong – you wouldn't be broken hearted if Skinner was to die. Still, while you might not care for the Boneyard's king, there is the Majestic to consider. It didn't feel right, leaving the Ministry ship to such a dismal fate, and it doesn't feel much better leaving it to these unknown aggressors. If these enemies really are preparing to take action against Skinner, and you lend him aid... he'll owe you a favour, a big favour. That seems to be how things are done in these parts, trading one favour for another.

“Time's up!” Bergmann yells, “You lot, get back in here!”

[2/3]

>>856181

Bergmann has stripped off his mask when you return, and his shaven scalp glistens with a skin of sweat. His gaze is dark, and his temper is foul. Glaring at everyone in the room, he launches into a curt speech.

“Kole, I want you to take our ship, the doctor, and four men – your choice. Take them, and head back to New Odyss with a report of what we found here. The governor needs to know what happened out here, and what might be coming. He'll need to know, and I'll feel happier knowing that he'll have reliable men at his side,” Bergmann stabs a blunt finger down against the table, “I'm taking the rest of the men to the Boneyard.”

A murmur of discontent ripples through the room. Levi doesn't look particularly bothered by the decision – he wins either way, you muse – but Kole is definitely not happy.

“Now hold on,” he snaps, “Sir, with all due respect, I don't think you're making an unbiased decision! Everyone here knows that-”

“That what?” Bergmann says softly, “Go on – finish that sentence.”

“Everyone knows that you've got history with Skinner,” Kole says slowly, forcing himself to meet Bergmann's eyes and speak evenly, “So yes, sir, I don't think you're making this decision with a clear head. I'm prepared to do my duty, but I want this objection to go down on the official report.”

“Your objection is noted,” Bergmann lets his gaze pan across his men, slowly scratching at one of his scars, “Did everyone get that?”

Nobody dares speak. Levi almost makes some smug comment, but his nerve fails before he can voice the words aloud. In the end, you're the one to break the silence.

Everyone got that, you say calmly, but he left someone out.

“It's your choice,” shrugging, Bergmann waves the issue away, “Come with me, head back to New Odyss. Do what you like.”

>Return to New Odyss
>Head to the Boneyard
>Other

>>856183
>Head to the Boneyard

>>856183
>Head to the Boneyard

>>856183
>>Head to the Boneyard

>>856183
>Head to the Boneyard
We also have history and all things considered it was pretty cordial

>>856183
>>Head to the Boneyard

Levi might have made a convincing case for the comfortable life, but you can't just sit back and let Bergmann take this burden onto his shoulders. He won't be alone, of course – he'll have his men with him, and you don't doubt their competence – but there are some things that you prefer to do yourself. Leaving the tough work to other people often ends in disappointment, you've found.

Besides, you're curious – you'd like to see just what happens when Skinner and Bergmann meet. Kole is right, they've got some kind of shared history, and you'd like to learn a little more about it. It's a wicked excuse for motivation, but you can't deny it either.

You've had dealings with Skinner before, you announce, and you're still alive – you'll call that a cordial relationship. In the interests of diplomacy, you'll go to the Boneyard with Bergmann.

“Suit yourself,” Bergmann shrugs heavily, but one corner of his mouth twitches in what might be a smile, “There's room enough on the ship, and I won't refuse an extra rifle if things go wrong.”

Whether that means going wrong with Skinner's men, or with this unnamed third party, he doesn't specify. He doesn't need to – the implication is clear enough.

-

There are no long goodbyes when the team splits up, everyone taking their places with precision and purpose. Their little spat forgotten – or at least covered up by the cold, pragmatic mask of professional conduct - Kole and Bergmann exchange a simple salute before turning away. As Kole calls out orders to his chosen men, the two engine roar into life. His ship pulls away, spraying out a great plume of water as it turns a tight circle and powers off, carving a path back to New Odyss. As he leaves, Levi can't help but give you a jaunty wave.

When Sutter slaps the doctor around the back of the head, your scowl turns into laugher. When a grating pain rips up from your lungs, your laughter turns into a coughing fit. That damn compound of theirs, you mutter once the fit has died down.

You're still coughing a little as your ship lurches into motion, wrenching itself around and crawling out into the open waters. The Boneyard is not far away, but Bergmann seems to be in no particular hurry.

Curious, that.

>Okay, I'm going to pause things here. I'll continue this tomorrow, I hope.
>Sorry for the unplanned pause today!

>>856300
No problem. Thanks for running.

>>856300
Thanks for running, Moloch!

The men are gambling, making wagers in low, murmured voices. When you approach, their voices drop from low to complete silence. They trust you enough to fight and die at your side, but they don't trust you with their little games. Eventually, one of them relents and lets you in on the secret. They're taking bets, he claims, on what will happen when Skinner and Bergmann meet, face to face.

And what, you ask in a hushed whisper, are the current wagers? The answer, when it comes, is a cynical one – Skinner will try to have Bergmann killed. Bergmann will try to kill Skinner. They'll fight, but nobody will die. Finally, they might ignore one another, an altogether colder kind of reaction. None of them expected it to be easy, you ask, or peaceful?

“Peaceful? Easy?” one of the soldiers asks, his thin eyebrows raised, “You're joking, right? I mean, I won't turn you away if you want to put some coin on it, but...”

No, you shake your head, that's alright. That's a wager you'd probably end up losing.

-

Noon is fast approaching as you draw close to the Boneyard, and the blazing sun overhead is like an instrument of torture. Bergmann stands behind the ship's controls, glaring straight ahead. His jaw is set firmly, the muscles bunched up like steel cables, and his hands are clenched around the ship's controls. When you approach him, he glances around at you.

“How's the throat?” he asks quietly, “Think you'll be able to talk well enough?”

Still hurts a little, you answer as you touch a hand to your neck, but you can talk fine. He'd better not ask you to sing, though.

“I never ask anyone to do something I'm not willing to do myself,” Bergmann retorts, with utter deadpan sincerity, “So I don't think you've got anything to worry about. Tell me, though – you said that you've had dealings with Skinner before. What's your take on him?”

That's not an easy question to answer. Memories – still raw and recent – flash through your mind as you try to form a coherent response out of your scattered thoughts. When you close your eyes, you see Skinner brandishing his machete, bringing it down upon his luckless minion. The strangest thing is, it's not the execution itself that has stayed with you so strongly, but the moment before it. With his underling restrained before him, Skinner had leaned down to whisper in the man's ear, a simple but chilling phrase - “I always know.”

Skinner certainly knows how to make an impression, you reply eventually, and you're yet to meet someone who places a greater value on their reputation.

Bergmann, apparently satisfied by your answer, nods silently.

[1/2]

>>858032

That silence lingers for a while longer, until a blurt of static from the radio shatters it like glass. Bergmann frowns, shooting you a warning look before scooping up the radio apparatus. As you've come to expect, the unseen voice on the other end of the transmission wastes no time at all.

“Report,” it orders, “Have you reached your designated point?”

Bergmann's frown deepens slightly. “Affirmative,” he replies, with only a slight moment of hesitation, “Holding position and awaiting new orders.”

“The strike team should arrive in six hours time. Await their arrival, and provide support,” there is a short pause, static rising and falling like the tides, and then the voice continues, “A senior officer will be on site. Any supplementary orders they give are to be followed to the letter – is that understood?”

“Understood,” Bergmann nods, giving you a sideways glance. He's thinking the same thing as you – an officer could be very informative, provided they can be taken alive. The transmission is cut with a sharp squeal, and Bergmann sets down the radio equipment. “Six hours,” he grunts, “And then we'll see what their next move is. Suppose we should start planning our own next move as well, now I think about it. Got any bright ideas?”

>I think Kole was right – you're too involved in this. Step back and let me deal with Skinner
>I need to know what kind of history you have with Skinner – it could be important, maybe vital
>This is just business, we should treat it as such
>Other

>>851833
>>851862
umm no i didnt do that meme
and its good to know people can tell who and what im in
il see you in there

>>858034
>>I need to know what kind of history you have with Skinner – it could be important, maybe vital

>>858034
>I need to know what kind of history you have with Skinner – it could be important, maybe vital
>This is just business, we should treat it as such
>Other
"Just remember that right now we have a common enemy that's shown themselves to a threat to everyone's lives. It might actually make more of an impression on him on how serious this is if you try to keep whatever you have between you two buried for trying to get the conspirators."

>>858034
>>This is just business, we should treat it as such
So if we don't find an officer guy here that means we fucked up and this isn't the next target right? Any way we can get in touch with the other team so the can search for said agent in New Odyss since they're already heading there?

>>858034
>>This is just business, we should treat it as such

>>858048

>The quickest way to get the word to New Odyss would be to send out a ship with a messenger on it.

>>858048
Levi said he was due for an update so that might be the plan. Kole should try to take the agent alive and work him over for information. If he doesn't talk threaten him with a slow death via exposure to Red Eye or handing him off to a very disgruntled Skinner or something.

>>858034
I wonder if there should be an attempt to ally with Skinner. If he is willing and is in fact the target, we have a great advantage. If we explain to him how his men have been infected, on purpose or not, he should be agitated enough to come with us on an expedition to catch up with the enemy strike team if they have another target.
Besides, he's not an idiot, telling him what the Majestic is and what it means to the Ministry and that we can help him turn the bull's eye on his back into an opportunity provided that he cooperates, I believe we have all the leverage we could possibly ever need.

>I need to know what kind of history you have with Skinner – it could be important, maybe vital
>Other: Tell Bergman the above, say that we will go alone to negotiate. We survived one negotiation already, we can go for a hat trick if necessary.

>>858058
These guys clearly choose death though, the one guy they almost caught shot himself on the spot. I find it unlikely that we'll get anything out of anyone unless we bubble wrap them and somehow get on their good side or something.

>>858059
Yeah at the end of the day I think he wants to protect his operation and Red Eye, the conspirators, and the Majestic are all bad for it.

>>858060
Drug them maybe? Levi has a bunch of stuff I think.

>>858063
Now there's an idea. Just have to stop them from killing themselves long enough to drug their asses to hell and back.

>>858060
Well, Gods willing we may be able to incapacitate them before they off themselves. Disarm them and break their arms and legs, whatever. No need to be kind to ghosts.

>>858063
Also, if Skinner is offed or his operation gets nuked the power vacuum is a golden opportunity for this shadow organization. It's probably in both our own and the southern colonies interest that he and his organization stays alive

First of all, you tell him, you need to know what kind of history he has with Skinner. It might be important to any discussions you have, maybe even vital.

“If you're hoping to find any leverage there, anything you could use against him, you'll be sorely disappointed,” Bergmann's voice drops a little, growing quiet and dangerous, “If I had anything useful, I wouldn't conceal it.”

Regardless, you insist, you'll need to know now. It'll likely come out one way or another, and you're certain that he'd rather give his version of events first. Skinner's version might be somewhat less flattering. Whatever else happens, you need to know the facts before going ahead with any negotiations. This is about business, after all, and not tawdry gossip.

“Persistent,” Bergmann grunts, “But I guess you're right. I might have put my past behind me, but Skinner is hardly likely to be so forgetful. Fine, I'll give you the important details – but I don't want you spreading this about. I've done things, things that I'm not proud of, and I'd rather they didn't become a matter for public discussion.”

You'll keep your mouth shut, you promise, you don't exactly have many friends in these parts after all – who would you go telling this to?

“Fair enough,” Bergmann nods to himself, slowing the ship down as the waters around you start to thicken into swamp, “The Boneyard... Skinner and I, we built this place up from nothing. We had a few others with us, back in those days, but they were just muscle – we were the will behind it all. We both had our own reasons for it – Skinner wanted money and power, I wanted a place in this land to call my own. Different reasons, but close enough for us to work together... at first.”

It's hard to imagine Skinner working with someone else, you remark, treating them as an equal partner. You've seen his operation, and there was a pretty clear divide between him and the rest of his men. Was it always like that?

“Not always, but Skinner soon learned that he had a talent – a gift for inspiring men. That was the start of it, I think, when the rot started to set in. I had my doubts, but I stayed there in the hope of changing things. When Skinner started treating me like just one more of his minions, I knew it was time to leave,” Bergmann's hands tighten on the ship's wheel, “So I left. It must have felt like a betrayal, because Skinner sent people after me – not to bring me back, but to kill me. They were men I called friends once, and suddenly they were out for my blood. It was hard to deal with.”

That, you consider, sounds like an understatement.

[1/?]

>>858070

“Three times he sent men after me, and the last time was almost enough. I damn near died,” Bergmann tilts his head up, running a hand across a long scar under his chin, “Well, I finally got the message at that point. I wouldn't survive on my own, I needed to settle down and make some friends of my own. Not many options for a man like me, but your Ministry offered me the best chances of survival. They needed obedient men, and I needed a job – a perfect match.”

You'll admit, you had been a little curious about that. It's not often that you see a southerner with such a respectable position within the Ministry.

“It sure as hell wasn't respectable at first,” he laughs, “They saw me as little more than an attack dog, but I didn't care. I was a quick learner, I followed orders, and I was more than willing to dish out as much violence as they needed. I carved out a spot for myself, and it paid off. Skinner didn't try anything after that – too risky, I wager. Trying to kill some wandering thug is one thing, but sending assassins after a Ministry official... no, he's too smart for that.”

Cunning perhaps, you think aloud, in the same way that an animal can scent danger.

“Whatever,” Bergmann grunts, “So now you know. It's personal, our history. Present Skinner with a good enough deal, I reckon he'd be willing to put aside his grudges. He was always the businessman, after all.”

And that's how you'll approach him, you decide, with an offer. Work together against this unnamed third party, and everyone profits from it. A common enemy can do wonders to heal an old rift. Still, you add, it might be best if you're the one to take this offer to Skinner. You've come to an agreement before, and you're willing to try and build off that past history. Better safe than sorry.

“Maybe so,” Bergmann agrees, “But I've got to ask. Take a look ahead of us.”

Looking away, you follow his gaze and look at the Boneyard. His story had distracted you, and you hadn't noticed the approaching glimpse of hell. Bonfires burn here and there, darkening the sky with thick black smoke, while the rumble of drums provides a lunatic background rhythm. All civilisation seems to have fled from this place, exposing a dark and violent heart.

“Does that really strike you as safe?” the southern asks bitterly, looking out at his former home, “Does any of it look safe?”

Well, you admit quietly, maybe not.

-

If you were hoping to approach unnoticed, those hopes were quickly dashed. Looking out over you from their derelict ships, Skinner's painted men stare with flat, dead eyes. When your ship passes them by, they slowly turn to follow you.

“Creeps me out,” one of Bergmann's men mutters, “Those things ain't men. Maybe once, but not any more.”

[2/3]

>>858085

Crawling into the centre, into this ring of steel and rusting iron, the stolen ship bumps up against a sunken path. Ahead of you the Majestic looms like a crippled giant, brought low but still clinging to a few vestiges of pride. You couldn't say why seeing it in this state hurts so much, as if it was a personal insult rather than a slight against the Ministry as a whole. At some point, you realise, the two became close to inseparable in your eyes.

Perhaps that's why the Orphanage hit you so hard. Luckily, before your thoughts can creep back to that dark subject, a pair of Skinner's men approach your boat. Gesturing for Bergmann to hold back for now, you come out to meet them.

Up close, these men look even more savage than before. Painted blood red, with gaudy, exaggerated faces daubed across their natural features, the men present the appearance of inhuman corpses. The rifles they carry are old and ill-treated, but still very capable of deadly use. When you tell them that you're here to see Skinner, in a firm and composed voice, they nod and lead you further in.

-

Through the Majestic's corridors and up to the top deck, you follow your flayed guides to Skinner. He stands surrounded by raging fires, sweat pouring from him but otherwise showing no sign of discomfort, or even that he notices the fires. Glancing away from him, looking into one of those bonfires, you see blackened human bones.

“Burn the bodies, and contain the infection,” Skinner booms, without turning to look at you, “That is the way of your Ministry, is it not?”

League regulations are clear, you agree, cadavers are to be burned to prevent to spread of any contagions.

“The bull is hardy, it knows how to shrug off the worst of all sicknesses,” Skinner turns slowly, revealing a face that is marked by old scars and smeared with new ash, “We meet again, snow-blood. This time, I have no crime to answer for, no misdeed that requires recompense. Why, then, have you come here?”

>Have you contained the infection here?
>We have a mutual enemy. Hostile forces may be preparing to attack the Boneyard
>I have information you need. I want to make a deal
>Other

>>858085
Man we weren't even gone a day. Shit hit the fan fast.

Unless this is normal for them.

>>858103
>>We have a mutual enemy. Hostile forces may be preparing to attack the Boneyard

>>858103
>Have you contained the infection here?
>I have information you need. I want to make a deal
"I'll give you all the information we have on the bastards who did this to you and your men, as well as additional support to contain the infection here and defend from further attacks to silence you, but in return I want the Majestic patched up, cannons and all, and returned to the Ministry.

Trust me, this ship is nothing but trouble for you. This group will keep hounding you as long as you have 'evidence' and the Ministry proper won't negotiate to get it back when they learn it's location. Better we do it this way where we both get something out of it."

Ugh phoneposting

>858103
>We have a mutual enemy. Hostile forces may be preparing to attack the Boneyard.
>I want to make a deal

The disease here is not an accident, it is a weapon that has been used against you by an enemy I am chasing. I have learned that they are planning an attack in a few hours time and I believe that you are the target. In addition I have information about the Majestic, the ship you acquired and I daresay it may prove more dangerous to you than the disease and shadow army.
We will help you with the disease as the Ministry dictates and I request that you allow us to aid in your defense. In return, I want your full cooperation in identifying and fighting this organization.

>>858119
though thats if we picked the right place fingers crossed
probs ask him what he did with the bug guns

>>858112
Hm, I think making demands about the Majestic may be a bit too much. Explaining to him that it is going to draw the ire of the actual northern ministry militants, I'm sure he will make the decision to get rid of it himself. Let's just plant the seed.

If he's being obstinate about it, we can offer to smooth things over with the ministry, write an official report that he aided us in reclaiming it from the traitor, put him in their good books. That's worth more than a favor and a half, I think.

We should eventually ask him what he can tell us about Saive but it's not the most pressing issue at the moment.

>>858103
To put an exclamation on the votes above me we can also tell him that Isla Calvara is fucking gone.

>>858130
I dunno I think a clear cut deal with incentives will work better with him. Southerns seem like they are about that. Deals and trades.

>>858128
Right, but if he believes us and we simply spent a couple of hours protecting them and helping with the disease to the full extent of our abilities, his local knowledge and finger on the pulse could be enough to point us to the real target. Fingers crossed that he'll appreciate our work enough that if he agrees to full cooperation he will lend his men to us to chase them down.

>>858134
>5
that might be a bit too much more like he will tell us how the shio got here and if he knows where they went.
i dont think he will lend us any men or help liek thta and sicne there red eye here i dont think we want them near us for too long

>>858133
Aye true, but we are already infringing on him and coming with dubious, unsubstantiated claims. I don't think the Majestic was a minor purchase for him, it must be worth a lot both monetary and personally. Just rearming it and sending it away by our demand is not going to do wonders for his cult of personality and authority. I believe easing into it and making him decide himself that getting rid of it will make the process smoother. I mean, even if we die the ministry will come and kill him for it sooner or later.

>>858142
True, but I'm just not entirely comfortable with betting things on Skinner being grateful. The deal gives us leverage since it gives the option to just walk and leave them to their fate if he decides to be stubborn or spiteful, giving us even footing. Dude is a businessman and a good deal is staring him right in the face.

As for the cult he can just hype them up about defending their island and getting revenge. They don't seem like a bright lot

This infection, you ask as you gesture to the bonfires, has it been contained?

“Time will tell,” Skinner replies indifferently, “When the first bodies bloated, growing fat with their monstrous children, my men needed little encouragement to burn them all. They were enthusiastic – they burned the sick and the healthy alike.”

You take another slow look at the bonfires around you. How many of those bones belonged to healthy men, you wonder, uninfected men caught up in a dire purge? Yet, as much as you'd like to feel revulsion at the act, you can't bring yourself to disagree. The Ministry might be more subtle, but if pushed into a desperate situation, it would do the same thing. Sometimes, the few have to be sacrificed for the many – you'd heard those words repeated so often that they might as well be burned into your mind. Now, you're seeing them put into action.

“I have been wounded by this affliction,” the looming southerner continues, “Many of my men lie dead, ashes, and the survivors reel with dismay. I dearly wish to take bloody vengeance for this crime, but who am I to punish? Disease owes no allegiance.”

Actually, you reply, that might not be quite correct. This outbreak was not an accident, or some quirk of fate – it was brought here deliberately, to silence him and his men, and you know who was responsible.

“Who?” Skinner hisses, his face tightening with sudden fury, “Tell me, snow-blood!”

You'll give him the information you seek, you reply carefully, but you want to make a trade for it. A deal – business, if he wants to call it that. You have to fight to keep your voice steady, to hold Skinner's gaze and not give up an inch of ground. He's a beast, you think to yourself, and he'll pounce at the first sign of weakness. Show him strength, on the other hand, and he'll weigh your words carefully.

“A deal,” drawing back, Skinner lowers his voice into a lethal whisper, “I see now. What attractive bait you've laid out for me! Now that I've bitten the hook, you've left me with no choice. I pull myself free, and I lose everything, or... I play along.” He smiles, revealing fang-like teeth, and folds his arms. “Very well,” the southerner nods, “We deal.”

You've got his attention, you think to yourself, now you just need to keep his interest.

-

You'll be blunt, you begin, this ship – the Majestic – is trouble. He's been having problems ever since it was brought here, hasn't he? Skinner scowls hard at this, but nods. Spurred on by this, you continue with your pitch. This is a Ministry ship, you tell him, brought here under false pretences and ill-treated. Something like that could be seen as an insult back in the north, good cause to bring the Ministry's full strength down upon him.

[1/2]

>>858169

But really, you continue, it's not the Ministry that he needs to worry about. So long as this ship is here, in his possession, he's got ties to a very dangerous group – a group that you're working to oppose. It is because of those ties that he has been afflicted with this disease, and that's just the beginning. You've learned that this group is preparing to attack the Boneyard and wipe out the last remaining evidence of their activities.

“They brought this disease here?” Skinner considers. As he says this, he takes a curved knife from his belt and tests the blade with a fingertip. The drop of blood glistens on the blade, catching the light from the bonfires and reflecting it madly.

They brought the disease here, you agree, and they'll be coming with soldiers soon enough. You're prepared to stay here and help fight them off, but you want something in return.

“You want the ship,” Skinner guesses, his voice flat. Pausing for only a brief second, you nod sharply. “This ship was brought here, given to me with a strange offer,” he looks about the Majestic's deck, gesturing around me, “It was unique, they told me, one of a kind. A great symbol of power, even broken like this. They offered it as a gift, asking only one thing in return – the weapons. Those, they wished to keep. I found their terms acceptable – I had no use for their weapons. Now, you ask me to surrender this ship, even knowing the power it represents?”

Or the misfortune it represents, you counter, it's been more of a curse on him than a blessing. His men would see that, surely – they would be glad to be rid of it, especially if he explained it as such. A wise ruler knows when to get rid of a burden, after all.

“I see. You're a clever little thing, aren't you?” Skinner points the knife at you, “You northerners. Your words are like a fine dance. If your words are the truth, then trusting your kind is what brought this curse upon me in the first place. Now, you claim that trusting you will take it away?”

That's correct, you reply simply. In six hours time, you continue, these men will attack the Boneyard. When that happens, he'll see the worth in your warning.

If you're right about this, that is. You hope to hell that you're right about this.

“Our deal, then,” Skinner continues, “You and the men you came with will stay, to help defend this place. Once the attack has been thrown back, the ship will be yours once more. I cannot return what has been taken from it, but your Ministry can, at least, reclaim its property. My men get their revenge, your men get their ship. Both of us salvage a little pride... a fair trade, yes?”

>A fair trade. I accept
>No, I can't accept this
>I have a suggestion... (Write in)
>Other

>>858183
>>A fair trade. I accept

>>858183
>A fair trade. I accept

Does he know who took the weapons?

>>858194
im sure it was the same people that gave it to him

>>858183
>A fair trade. I accept

>>858183
>>A fair trade. I accept

>>858183
>>A fair trade. I accept
should we see if we can get Skins to raid Isla Saiva after we get info from Henryk?

>>858202
best hunter is doing that
realy dont think we will be wanting to bring too big of a taget since they have the ships guns

>>858183
>A fair trade. I accept

So I don't think we are in much mortal danger here. Even if we are wrong, by the end of it all we've done is tell him a lie and imposed on his hospitality for a few hours. As long as nothing changes hands and none of our men do anything stupid we aren't too likely to die as a consequence.

Man I really hope they are attacking here. Attacking Odyss wouldn't make sense considering it will just announce their presence to the world, but I hope there isn't another target.

>>858183
>"It is unique and one of a kind, that is why it can bring misfortune. It is a symbol in the north and men can do a lot of things in the name of symbols and what they're meant to represent."

You guys think we should promise him that we will make it official that Skinner did nothing criminal when he took possession of it, absolve him of any accusations? I had a mind to just tell him that no one will ever know that it was in his possession, but that is a lie that can easily be disproved.

>>858183
We can also offer help in identifying the infected.

>>858225
Once it's in our custody

>Going to have to pause here for a little bit, maybe an hour or so. Should have the next section finished by then - your patience is appreciated

“Northerners, like yourself. They arrived with a ship of their own and took the weapons, along with the crew. Prisoners, I thought,” Skinner offers you a bland smile, “The men, they were afraid. I tried to offer them a place here, but they were not allowed to make that decision for themselves. Like blind men, they followed their leaders.”

There's something ironic about that, you consider, Skinner criticising the Majestic's crew. He doesn't exactly encourage free thought or action. Of course, you don't say such things aloud – your private speculations shall remain exactly that, private. One thought does occur to you. The ship that arrived to pick up the weapons, you ask, did it leave anything here or bring anything with it?

“Some of their men spoke with a number of my own,” dark realisation crosses Skinner's face, “They shared a drink. A toast, they claimed, to our shared cooperation.”

Just a shared drink, you muse, was that all it took to unleash the parasite? The idea is a fearful one – any food, any water you drink, could be infected. How many meals have you eaten here, in the south? Any of them could have been tainted, spiked with something worse than any poison.

No point getting paranoid, you try to chide yourself, it's just needless worry. Focus on what's important, what's right there ahead of you.

If only it was that easy.

-

With six hours to kill, you offer to check over Skinner's men, examining them for any remaining infection. Skinner seemed genuinely surprised by the offer – perhaps because you asked for nothing in return - but he wasted no time in ordering his men to gather. Recruiting a few of Bergmann's men to help out, you donned protective gear and set about the long, monotonous task of testing the painted men.

Skinner watched, fascinated, as you passed down a row of nervous, shuffling men, taking temperatures and asking precise, careful questions. You get the feeling that they would have lied to you if not for Skinner's looming presence, but he keeps them honest.

Never more than a dozen at a time, a seemingly endless parade of painted men pass you by without any sign of infection. Skinner's purge was terrifying in its efficiency, but it wasn't absolute. When you press your gloved palm to a man's ashen forehead and feel a violent heat pulsing in his brow, your eyes widen in alarm. You ask him a few questions – contact with the infected or any spilled blood, that sort of thing – but his answers are slurred and confused.

Skinner barely needs to nod, and the infected man's companions fall upon him, wrestling him to the ground and dragging him away.

“Prepare a pyre,” Skinner growls.

[1/2]

>>858305
Has Skinner even noticed Bergmann? Northern girl dropping knowledge and deals might've distracted him.

>>858305

Three more men show signs of the infection – one even has a few fleshy lumps forming beneath his ragged tunic, lumps that he had desperately tried to hide – and all of them are met with the same immediate response. There's something chilling about the way Skinner's men turn on each other without hesitation or dismay, sentencing their comrades to certain death with just a nod from their leader.

Southerners, you think queasily, they're just... different. They don't think like you do.

-

The six hours pass very quickly – unsurprising, considering how busy you were – and it isn't long before you start seeing Skinner's men preparing themselves for battle. Machetes are sharpened, rifles brandished, and vivid warpaint applied. Flasks of some pungent alcohol – that vile local spirit, you suspect – are passed around, men taking deep swallows of the stuff to harden their wills. They don't offer you a pull from the flasks, and that's something that you're perfectly happy with.

You've had enough poison for one day.

When you've got less than half an hour left until the deadline, Skinner emerges from his lair to start bellowing orders at his men. They scurry to take their assigned positions, flanking the most obvious entrance to the Boneyard. It's a good plan, you think as you watch the pieces fall into place, they'll have good lines of fire down onto anyone entering the swamp. If your enemies follow the same path you followed, they'll be sailing straight into an ambush. Then again, you've seen how vulnerable the Boneyard can be – the swamp has patches thick enough for men to walk on. The enemy forces could appear from any direction.

Bergmann and his men have joined Skinner's army, although you note that all of them have chosen to cover their faces and hide any Ministry insignia. Bergmann has been especially careful about covering himself up, hiding his scars beneath a tightly wound scarf. Considering what you've learned about his past, you don't really blame him for being discrete in these parts – Skinner's territory, as you've come to see it, as if it's the den of some terrible beast.

-

“You hear that?” Bergmann mutters to you, the drab scarf muffling his voice somewhat. He has a rifle held tight against his chest, and his eyes are lively with tension.

Engine noise, you reply as you listen carefully, and it sounds like more than one ship.

“Two of them,” Bergmann guesses, “No more than three, definitely. If each boat has ten men...”

You'd still outnumber them, you finish, although you can't guarantee the quality of Skinner's men. Their weapons alone don't inspire much confidence, and they hold them with more bravado than skill.

If there's serious fighting to be done, you suspect, it'll be the Ministry troops who do it.

>>858460

>I'm sorry about this, but I'm going to have to finish things here for today. I'm having trouble writing this next part out. I'll try to finish this bit off tomorrow.
>Thanks to everyone who stuck around, sorry for the long delays

>>858465
Thanks for running!

>>858465
Cheers man, good episode today.

>>858465
Thanks for running.

Henryk should be getting back by now right? If this is happening concurrently we are already way past the part we stopped at as him.

>>858484

I'm not entirely certain about the timelines at this point, since some things on Henryk's end are open to change a little, but I imagine they'll both be returning to New Odyss at roughly the same time. There certainly won't be a long wait between them, at least.

>>858520
>open to change a little

>30 men pile out of the ships, ready at attention-
>No, wait, 20 men!
>10!
>Oh god is that Henryk shanking them RIGHT NOW!?

>>858585
Schroedinger's troop transport.

The drums have long since fallen silent, their primal beat cut short and replaced by the drone of approaching boats, but the painted man closest to you doesn't seem to have noticed. His head bobs and sways to some private, unheard rhythm, his thoughts seemingly fled to some inner world. It's hard to tell much from his face with a thick layer of bone white paint covering it, but his eyes are young and very wild. With pupils dilated enough to show pure blackness, those are seem devoid of all humanity. No kindness, but no cruelty either – a simple void.

Bare-chested, he wears a belt of ammunition across painted skin, tarnished cartridges for the equally worn rifle he carries. The weapon is little better than a toy – the kind of single shot piece used for training, for children learning to shoot. It's better than nothing, true, but you wouldn't like to stake your life on it. Throwing rocks might be more effective.

Finally snapping out of his trance, the man gives you a wide, lurid grin. Just as you're attempting a crooked smile of your own in reply, Bergmann punches you lightly on the shoulder to get your attention. No time for idle pleasantries – the engine sounds have grown loud and close, it won't be long before the boats arrive.

-

The Boneyard is well suited to this kind of thing, the ship's railings serving as reasonably effective cover with the addition of some sheet metal. The makeshift barricades might not stop a volley of powerful rifle shots, but they offer both concealment and protection from lighter gunfire. A small advantage, perhaps, but you'll take everything you can get.

Slowly, cautiously, you look up over the barricade and watch as the ship crawls into the centre of the Boneyard, approaching your stolen vessel and slowing to a halt. As you watch, armed men – their faces and forms hidden behind bulky protective suits – emerge from their ship and fan out. Moving like the pieces of a well-oiled machine, as if they shared one mind between them, they take great care not to leave any angles uncovered. Only one ship, you murmur to yourself, the others must be-

Before you can finish that thought, before you can spread a warning, one of Skinner's men fires the first shot. If there is one small consolation, it's that the shot is not wasted – you see one of the suited soldiers twist and fall, dropping into the swamp and vanishing from sight. The moment draws out for a few seconds more – each second feels like an hour – and then all hell breaks loose. Both sides open fire, with varying results. Skinner's men fire wildly, treating cover as an afterthought, while the invaders position themselves carefully and take precise shots.

The battle for the Boneyard has begun.

[1/3]

>>861091

As you're leaning up and out of cover, something zips pasts you and stirs the air. A split second later, you hear a wet gurgle as the painted man besides you tumbles backwards, aimless hands fluttering around his throat. At a glance, you realise that there's nothing you can do for him – the bullet caught him clean in the throat, and it's a grotesque wonder that he didn't die immediately. You can avenge his death, but that's the limit of your powers. Fixing your sights on one of the hostile soldiers, you squeeze the trigger and feel the rifle kick against your shoulder. It's a good hit, and your chosen target is knocked down, backwards and out of sight. Just as you're sweeping your eyes across the swamp for a new target, a shrill scream pierces your ears.

A scream is not an unexpected thing to hear on a battlefield, but this is different – this is no human scream. There's just barely enough time for Bergmann to cry out an order, calling for everyone to get low, before the world erupts in sound and fire. A tremendous blast throws you onto your front, sudden heat washing over you as your mind reels. Bergmann hauls you upright and says something, his scarf fallen loose to reveal his face, but the words are lost on you. All you can hear is a shrill ringing sound, piercing and painful.

Bergmann points, and you follow his gaze to see a second ship, this one half-shrouded by the trees. His explanation is just as lost as his earlier words, but you can figure this one out on your own. They shelled you, dropping some kind of bomb on your head while you were busy with their advance troops. You don't know how long it'll be before their next volley, but you don't want to be here when it lands. When Bergmann gestures for you to follow, pointing down into the swamp, you don't hesitate to stick close.

Hit them from behind and silence those guns – that's all you need to do.

-

A rickety ladder, still miraculously clinging to the side of the derelict ship, takes you down to the swamp below. When the wind slips through the jungle, you feel wetness of your back. Blood, you realise as you touch a hand to the pained flesh, but not much. A minor wound at worst, nothing that should slow you down. Hopefully.

“We need to find that damn gunboat!” Bergmann snaps, his voice seeming to come from a great distance. Not trusting yourself to speak, you point out where you last saw the gunboat – a sleek, threatening silhouette. Scowling tremendously, Bergmann begins to hurry off in that direction, his boots sloshing through the stagnant swamp. Keeping your rifle at the ready, you follow him in.

[2/3]

>>861094

It's strange, you think as you enter the jungle, the battle seems like a distant and insignificant thing here. It's almost like the battle is some radio drama, and you're hearing it described to you by some impassive narrator. Yes, people are fighting and dying back there, but it barely feels real.

Shock, you murmur to yourself, that's all it is. You've been shot at, and then bombed – little wonder that your nerves are frayed. At such times, the mind takes whatever comfort it can get, even if it means resorting to delusions.

Still, you can never drop your guard completely. There's always some new sound, a gunshot or a pained yell, to drag you back to reality.

-

That you can hear the dull coughing sound at all is a miracle, a sign that your hearing is starting to return to normal. The screaming and distant explosion that follow the cough are only the confirmation of what you had guessed – the enemy artillery is close, perhaps through the next veil of trees. Tightening your grip on the rifle, you press ahead with Bergmann, pushing through fans of waxy leaves to reveal your target.

The gunboat is sparsely guarded – a grave miscalculation on the part of your enemies. Perhaps they never suspected someone would come out and counter-attack. Whatever their reason, the ship has been left in the care of three riflemen. As you step out from cover, they're already raising their guns to meet you.

>Calling for a Firearms check, that's 1D100+10, aiming to beat 70/90, and I'll take the highest of the first three results.

Rolled 69 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>861099

Rolled 71 (1d100)

>>861099

Rolled 50 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>861099