The Zhanaarkan Dead

Akniet's shoulders relax and he breaths out a sigh of relief. "Of course." His hand reaches into a pocket and pulls out a cred-stick. "Here is twenty thousand now. It is...yours. On completion of-of the task...I will pay you the remaining...thirty." He sets the cred stick on the table.

"Now, I suppose you will be wanting...information. I...fear I have little to give. I know that their...leader," He shudders at the thought, "is not and ordinary man. Where he goes, fear and suffering presages him. Also they have a-a troll, who is massive and-and cruel. And the members them...themselves...." Akniet lapses into a reverie, his face a study in harrowing memories. Serik, seeing this, is troubled. He knew that the mayor, despite his apparent meekness, was no coward. He respected Akniet, who had once stared down an armed mob unblinkingly in the defense of a stranger. If even he was frightened of these raiders, then they must not be ordinary ones.
Akniet emerges from his thoughts and continues, though his voice is forced, like he is loathe to continue. "The raiders...they've done things to themselves. They've cut themselves...all over, and are like maddened beasts. Erlan can tell you more. He followed them...you see? If you-you want to know more...go find him at the bar. He should be there now."

Ace considers the doctors question. Though she had not dealt with raiders directly, she knew that her father had tussled with them plenty of times back in the day.

"What we will need will hinge strongly on what type of raiders we are dealing with. If they are a roving band that moves from town to town staying mobile, we most likely won't run into any tanks. However if they have a base of operations set up nearby, and strike out from there, expect it to be much more heavily fortified. As for the raider scum themselves, that will depend on how well funded they are. If they are selling the girls to the eastern slave trade, they will be able to afford quite a bit more than if they are just playing with them and then tossing them aside. Either way, some APDS wouldn't hurt. What we need most of all is a good layout of their camp or base. Hopefully this Erlan fellow can provide that."

The manner in which she spoke was unlike any her two companions had seen in their time together so far. Ace was a lot of things, but suicidal was not one of them. She might be crass, generally uneducated, and socially inept, but when it came time for something to die, Ace was all business. Her thoughts were on what kind of opposition she would face, and consisted of her thinking of various poses and one liners to fit what ever raider killing situation might arise. Ok, maybe she wasn't the best battle strategist, but what ever happened she would look damn cool as it did.

Serik nodded at Akniet's reply and furled his brow, and nodded again, in response to the 'Doc's question, though remained silent for the moment, as the other members of their quartet added questions and information. The young woman, Nalan, brought him a new tea cup, and took away the broken bits, and Serik smiled his thanks. He placed the tea cup off to the side this time, out of immediate crushing distance. He scowled when Akniet described the leader, frowned when he described the troll, and looked like he wanted to 'spit' when he described the others in the group. There were rumors circulating and Serik had even come across some some dead animals that had been horribly mutilated out in the wilds, but nothing 'human'.

"Ace makes a good point. Akniet, were the raiders afoot? or mounted? If they were mounted in vehicles, they will be both harder and easier to track. Harder because they will be mobile, and have a greater range, easier because they will leave fairly obvious tracks. There has not been significant storm activity in the area to eliminate all the tracks. If they are afoot, their tracks will be harder to follow, but they will be much closer.

Perhaps you will also know this Akniet. Besides the...people...did the raiders take anything else? Fuel? Food? Water? Anything? Also, though there is slim chance we will find the lost ones...alive, we shall need pictures or descriptions or something to identify them." Serik paused heavily, "And do you want us to bring the leader back for 'punishment'?"

Serik turned to the others, before continuing. "The troll will present obvious difficulties, and the unknown qualities of the leader equally so. When I used to travel with the Karavan, it was the Lhassos tribe that were renowned for their armorer and weaponsmithing skills. Has this changed any, Nalan? Perhaps after we visit this Erlan, at The Spitting Camel we should visit them and negotiate for something bigger than my hunting rifle for taking down the troll at least."

Akniet finally sits, the weariness finally catching up with him. "I...know they have trucks...and Erlan mentioned a base in...the old city ruins. That is...I am afraid...all I know." His breathing has grown labored. This visit has been as exhausting as it has been cathartic for the old man.

Finally breaking her silence, Nalan nodded to the troll in response to his query. "Yes, you should be able to find a... bigger weapon there. Quality is usually the issue, but I'm sure you can find something." She left out that she would probably be able to help him find something, there would be time to talk about that later. For the time being, their host appeared to be at the end of his limit, the trauma of reliving the horrors he had witnessed had obviously taken their toll. "I think we should take this conversation outside, go meet with Erlan," she offered quietly, hoping the others would catch on and follow her lead. As she stood, she left her cup on the tray, the same amount of tea in it as when she picked it up.

It bothered her that the troll wanted such painstakingly defined objectives. Nalan hated being boxed in: the more creative liberty the better. So long as Akniet left the 'how' up to them, they could roll with the punches, adapt to whatever these raiders threw at them. And Nalan worried that they might need to do a lot of rolling real soon. But she did agree that they needed more information about what they were dealing with, not to mention who they were dealing with. This troll's abilities and equipment were an unknown factor, and they would have to spend a moment filling each other in before they came up with any real plan. Hopefully he had some sort of vehicle for ground transportation... taking the RV into combat would be suicidal.

The twenty thousand nuyen cred was quietly taken up by the Doctor, who - after a moment of studying it - neatly deposits it into a pocket of his dapper suit. Kraft listens quietly as his 'experts' chime, ear turned towards Ace for a moment as she describes the logistical problems of killing lots and lots of bad people. He moues, tapping a finger against his lip, eyes closed. And then the Troll begins lay out plans for a seige that hasn't even occured just yet. All of this combined in the Doctor's mighty mind with the old Mayor's description of what had attacked them.

. o O (Likely an exaggeration. The memory runs faulty when it is combined with extreme emotional turmoil. Still, a heavily armed raider band able to take an entire village hostage is not something to be treated lightly.) O o .

At last, he nods his head once at Nalan. "An excellent suggestion. Mayor Akniet, do not fret; Your village will soon be spared the visitations of this repulsive band of misfits." A bit of a double edged metaphor there, but entirely honest in its estimation. The Doctor then smoothly stands, placing his nearly-empty cup of tea upon the table and taking a moment to brush himself down. Before turning, and beginning to stride forth!

"Serik, Ace, Nalan? For the moment, let us sign into comm channel Oh Four One One Twenty Ten. It'll be our electronic rendevouz point, for now. Meanwhile, I suppose taking stock of our situation, and seeing precisely what logistics this Erlan can offer to us."

>>> Begin Transmission
>>> To: Nalan && Ace
>>>

"We've got twenty thousand to work with. Lets try to make the most of it, hmm? I'd like to hear suggestions from the two of you; Personally, I'm more in line with getting ourselves a few recon drones. We'll have a broad swathe of an area to cover. Perhaps a Tacnet of some sort wouldn't be terribly out of line. However, Ace, Nalan, you two are the 'experts' of this area; What are your suggestions? Twenty thousand will only stretch so far, and we must maximize it!"

>>> Dual Transmission End.

Ace lifts herself from the chair without word. She had nothing to say that would soothe the old man's pain. He was probably right. His niece was long dead, and nothing they could do would change that. It wasn't her job to be his counselor anyway. No her job was the send the raiders straight to hell, and she was happy to get paid to do it.

As the thought of payment ran through her head again, she wondered if there were any good gambling dens in this town. She pushed the thought out of her mind. That would have to wait till after the job. She followed the doc out. Now it was time to focus on the task at hand.

>>> To: Doc && Child
>>>Ammo is of the out most importance. The odds that the raiders only pick on villages that can't protect themselves is high, but that doesn't mean they are dumb enough to drive around in dresses. Anything else will have to wait till after we speak with our informant
>>>

"Ugh!" Nalan exclaimed once they were out of the house and looking around to figure out where to go next. "Tacnet systems are a pain in the head to calibrate... all those sensor channels, it was a nightmare organizing them. But I've heard they can make a huge difference." She glanced at Ace doubtfully for a second, and then looked at Serik thoughtfully. "Do you think we'll be able to get enough sensors contributing to actually do anything? I know my helicopter has plenty of channels but I don't know about anyone else." She rubbed her forehead with metal fingers, trying to remember. "Four man group... that's what, four channels each?"

Then she shrugged, resolving to wait until later to pursue the issue further. "I guess we can't really decide on what we need until we know what we're dealing with. Fighting bandits in trucks is a completely different game than combatting raiders in technicals, but the two look very similar. I...'d rather not rely on the simple information we have. Let's go talk to Erlan and then make a list... can we?"

Beyond just the increased danger from going toe to toe with a technical was the problem that they would likely have to destroy the vehicle to incapacitate the bad guys... which meant less loot, a thought that made Nalan frown. She really hoped these guys weren't as organized and hardcore as the mayor had made them out to be.

The others stood, and Doc spoke, selecting a common frequency for them to coordinate their communications. Serik took a moment to adjust his commlink to the appropriate frequency, as the others filed out. He stood, then spoke a moment with Akniet, expressing his sorrow , and reassuring the older man. He then gathered his weapons and followed the others outside, squeezing through the door once more, before slinging the longarms once more over his back. He raised his black bushy eyebrow slightly at Nalan's comment about Tacnet's, but didn't comment on something he didn't know much about...

"The Spitting Camel is this way..." he said without much preamble, as he lead the way down the street, turning left at the first intersection, and walking about a hundred meters before stopping infront of a low sandstone building, wedged in between two almost equally undistinguishable buildings of the same style, size and shape...


"I guess it doesn't much matter whether we talk to Erlan in there or outside, since I'm sure the whole town knows about the raiders, and soon the whole Karavan will too. News travels like wildfire..." Serik did his 'sideways through the door' act again, though the door of the Bar was bigger than the average house door, so it was not nearly so much of a trial for him. Assuming that the others were following, Serik made his way to the bar, most of the patrons, falling silent at his entrance, though whether it was because of his size or because of knowing him, and why he was there, was undeterminable. He moved to the bar and spoke quietly with the bartender for a moment, before looking towards the door once more. To the left of the door, a middle aged man dressed in typical desert garb for the area, stood, as if waiting for them. Serik ordered a round of local beer for the group, thanked the bartender, and moved to the table, greeting the man in fluent Turkish.

"And the availability of such an extensive piece of gear calls into question our entire timeline. I suppose we would not want to -wait- until the Raiders arrived. Not when there may still be a viable chance of some survivors." States the Doctor outloud, nodding once to Nalan before mouing again. And addressing all three of his newer 'companions'.

"Hmm. And as we cannot fashion an appropriate response list with our limited resources, let us head to this.." He pauses, as Serik mentions its name again. "... Spitting Camel." . o O (What a charming name. I'll have to remember to take hyper-immuno response tablets.) O o .

And then they're off, following the large troll through the small villa and into said bar. He does not speak, save to quietly memorize the path towards the bar - in the event a hasty retreat becomes necessary! He then metaphorically bows to the Bounty's expertise in this matter, briefly raising an eyebrow at both Nalan and Ace. Before following the oversized companion inside - and to their potential meet?

"Mister Erlan, I presume?" He begins, attempting to seize the initiative after Serik! Don't be fooled by the english letters, dear readers, for our 'Doctor Theus' also speaks Turkish quite well! Though tainted with that soft, american slurr.

The man hesitates a moment, slightly lost for words upon being confronted by the motley crew. "Um...no, I'm afraid not. Erlan told me to look out for you though. He's in the back and won't be-" He is cut of by a crash, followed by raised voices, coming from the bar's back room. "...but a minute..."

Turning towards the commotion, the group see a girl in a fine silk dress rush out of the bar, her face streaked with tears. The sounds of shouting and physical confrontation are heard, followed by a young, black-haired man in similarly fine silks careening out through the back door and into one of the tables. A straw-haired young man charges out, fury on his lips and his hands raised in fists. Two of the locals rush forward, restraining him. The first boy pulls himself to his feet. "I don't care if your reckless insanity gets you killed, Erlan," he says, his voice cold as ice, "but I will not allow you to bring Nurai down with you."

Erlan struggles against the men holding him, roaring in reply. "That's hers to choose, Damir, you cowardly piece of drek! I'll not let you keep her here as your little pet for the rest of her life!" He breaks free, slamming his fist across Damir's face before the others can restrain him again. Damir crumples under the weight of the blow, but gets back up quickly. He wipes his mouth, his voice an even simmer of restrained anger. "I am not going to fight you, Erlan. I will not give you the satisfaction." The two face each other and, for a moment, it is a tableau: the furious ranger in rough cottons, his muscles and rage straining to burst, facing the aristocrat, clothed in fine silks and puissant authority, his temper even and his eyes cold as frozen tears.

"The tall dark haired fellow is Akniet's nephew, the girl, his grand daughter Nurai, which by default, makes the blonde fellow Erlan." Serik says quietly to the group. "Excuse me for a moment." Serik takes two steps away from the group, two rather large steps, as he is a troll, and speaks loudly. "ENOUGH DAMIR. Your enemies are out there, in the old city ruins, not here...I have business with Erlan, and Akniet would not approve of this behavior." Serik glowers at the two young men, waiting until they settle down.

"You two, let him go. Serik paused as the two men restraining the young ranger, released him. "Erlan, perhaps you could join my 'friends' over there at that table. Damir, perhaps you could see to Nurai? I'm sure that Akniet could use some company right *now* as well...Perhaps the two of you could visit?" Serik places heavy emphasis on the last part, and stares into the eyes of the young nobleman. Serik knew Damir, at least by sight, and rumor, but this was the first time having spoken directly with him. But he knew the young Zhanaarkan valued, like his uncle, the family almost above all else...

Erlan settles down immediately, experiencing the remarkable calming effect that can only be possessed by five hundred pounds of solid troll. He is not the only one. The room is now so calm, it's utterly silent.

Damir clears his throat. "I...apologize for our behavior, Serik. I will do as you say." He turns to leave, at which point Erlan recovers some measure of his earlier bravado. "Hey, now! If anyone's going to escort her home it's going to be me! Don't trust the snake, Serik! I don't know what he'll try if left alone with her!"
Damir turns, his eyes burning ice. "What. Did. You. Say?"

The bartender, Beibol, puts a hand over his eyes. This was getting to be one of those days.

If anything could be less productive than the predicament the group found themselves in, Nalan couldn't think of it. She also couldn't think of any explanation for these petty squabbles when the town was under attack by raiders. Even if these two boys thought they had time for these games, Nalan didn't feel like waiting for them to sort it out, so she decided to cut to the chase. "Oh, hey, guys..." she said to no one in particular, but loud enough for all to hear. "There's a crying girl outside who said something about needing some alone time," she jerked her thumb at the door, hoping that she had gone unnoticed enough to appear like she had just entered the bar. "What is that all about?" She looked around, faking confusion before quickly shrugging and moving on. "Well I guess it's best just to give her some space for now. Is Erlan here? We need to talk to him for a bit about the recent bandit attacks."

The Doctor had, for a moment, vaguely considered simply finding a table and hedging bets against the outcome of this little spat. He glances aside to Nalan - but she's already attempting to seize the iniative, and remind the two knuckleheads of a far more imoprtant matter. But as the over-sized Serik begins his own more physical qualming, its obvious this unfortunate incident is going to delay the preparations for the quatro's eventual Raider intervention.

Occasionally, one had to resort to one's Brawler training, despite the inelegant seperation from that vaunted sport.

Into the dead silence from the rising tempers explodes a single gunshot from a heavy pistol. The Doctor lowering his arm from its vertical deployment, his predator still smoking as he sheathes it. And smiles pleasantly.

"Now, now, gentlemen. I believe I can solve our little quandry in its entirety! You, I suppose, would be our long-sought Erlan?" A gesture for the dark haired youth. And then he speaks to the fair haired man; "And you.. err.. I'm sorry, I don't think I ever caught your name. Either way, you would like to beat upon our treasure trove of information. Let us compromise! Both of you, please, be seated. We'll have our little.." He pauses, and switches to English <"Pow wow.."> And back to Turkish.

"And then you two fellows may scamper off and brain each other. In this manner, neither person is left alone with the fair young maiden save for the victor. And, as my charming associate Nalan had just stated.. it may be best to give her a moment to herself, less you both lose her."

There is a series of screams, as happens when a gun is discharged in a public building. Unsurprisingly, both of the men immediately sit down, though the straw-haired one manages to keep sufficient composure to protest, "...I'm Erlan. He's Damir. But then, you have the gun, so call us what you want."

The rest of the bar has, at this point, begun pointedly ignoring the scene, though the bartender looks like he's tallying the cost of damages in his head.

The wide grin of satisfaction on Ace's face showed that she fully approved of the doc's actions. Personally, she would have shot them in the foot, but she took what she got. She let her amusement drift away. They had wasted enough time watching the pointless argument. It was time to get down to the business at hand. There was money to be made, but not until they could get the information they needed on the raiders.

Ace retrieved a chair and dragged it to the table. She swung it around so that she could drape her arms over it's back. Ace dropped it down heavily unto the floor before plopping down into it. She rested her chin on her folded arms and eyed Erlan. There was no hostility in her voice as she spoke, but her tone was dry and showed she was not in the mood for bullshit.

"The raider camp. Tell us everything you remember about it. Now."

Erlan's temper seems pacified for now, though he is still glaring daggers at the dark-haired aristocrat. He begins with recounting the nature of the gang during their attacks. While most of it had been recounted by the Mayor, certain details are new. First, the raiders only had three trucks between barely seventeen of them and seemed to use no other vehicles. They had AK-97s, though they never fired them unless they were fired at first, preferring to simply grab whatever and whomever they wanted. The troll had some kind of enormous gun, but they never saw it used and it was always covered. Second, the raiders began as a mere six humans, a troll, and the leader. They have since more than doubled their number, an increase which only began when they started kidnapping people. Damir interrupts regarding this. "We know what that sounds like, and believe me, we've thought of it and really don't want it to be true. We're not sure it is, though. Between their rabid madness and the fact that most of their bodies have been pierced and mutilated beyond recognition..."
Erlan nods, the subject seeming to have driven his grievances against Damir from his mind. "We really don't get good looks at their faces. Not that we've tried very hard. Who wants to find out a friend or family member has become one of them?"

Doctor Theus, entirely at ease for someone who just fired a weapon in a public arena, seats himself quietly at the table and waves a hand. "Forgive me. I never was terribly adept at names. Erlan, then.." He states, nodding once to the fair headed man now. "And Damir." A nod towards the dark headed one. "I do apologize for the brusque manner of my 'interjections', but we are on a bit of a tight schedule. Worlds to save, villages to rescue, etcetera." And then he quiets himself as Ace takes over, couching his chin in his fist as he listens intently to the descriptions. And hmms.

"Perhaps drug and violence induced frenzy combined with something akin to Stockholm syndrome? I've seen it occur more times than I care to admit. When faced with something so damning as to break the mind, it's not too uncommon for one's self to simply.. collapse. And the hind brain to adapt an entirely new set of rules to cope with the .. extreme environment." A tap on the lip. "Although, frankly, I've always considered Freud and Jung to be mostly filled with bovine refuse of the foulest manner. Still, this presents a most distressing nuance to our mission. It may well be that the hostages are the hostiles."
. o O (I suppose it's a valid assumption to disregard nonlethal rounds) O o .

Kraft then leans back a moment, steepling his hands before him. "Anything else you can reveal about their lair, or methology, would be most helpful in our quest to quash." A pause.".. before you begin the incessant and regrettably violent spat."

The two, upon hearing Kraft's last comment, pause for a moment, as if suddenly remembering that they were angry with each other. Both sit bolt upright and determinedly avoid looking at each other. Battle lines redrawn, Erlan continues, moving on to his account of how he tracked them down.
"It wasn't hard to follow them. The raiders aren't subtle, and there's not been any storms. I've got a falcon I fixed to be real quiet, too, so I wasn't even too worried about getting noticed. So anyways, I follow their trail for a while and, what do you know, they're holed up in the old city." He proceeds to explain that there used to be a city called Zhurekadyr less than fifteen miles from Zhanaarka, but it had been bombed and subsequently deserted over a decade ago. Now it's just a pile of old ruins, but it's a perfect place for raiders to hide out if they're careful about collapsing masonry. "They've taken over three buildings: the remains of two skyscrapers and a low building between them. I didn't get a good look at them, though. I was over a kilometer away and looking through binoculars when they must've spotted me, 'cuz they started shooting. I didn't stick around too long after that. The first shots were missing by quite a bit, by they were getting better and I wasn't going to stick around for them to chase me down in their jeeps. I have an okay idea of the layout of the place, though. Here, I drew a map."
Erlan pulls a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. On it is a crude map:

Serik, too, stopped when the heavy pistol boomed out. He looked over his shoulder at Doc and sighed heavily. He escorted the two young antagonists to chairs at their table and excused Erlan's associate. Since there was no chairs sturdy enough for him to be seated on, he stood, leaning against the wall, just behind the two younger men. He glanced out the window to see if Nurai was still outside, but failing to see her, he returned his attention to the table, where Erlan and, now Damir were both telling parts of the story. A leader, a Troll, and six followers, I coulda handled myself probably. Take me a while but...Akniet was right...17 fanatical maniacs that might have been former victims...What have we got ourselves into.... Serik thought to himself.

Serik continues to listen, and leans forward to look over the map when it is produced. "What do you mean they started shooting at you over a kilometer away? With what? And how many were shooting exactly?" Serik reached forward and turned the map slightly. "And where were you when you were spotted?"

Erlan strokes his chin, the light layer of stubble making a soft scraping sound. He points at the eastern edge of the map. "I was about a kilometer East of here. I don't know what they were shooting at me with, but they were high caliber bullets. I dunno how many either, but I doubt it was more than one. The shots were one at a time, too. Probably a rifle of some kind. Accurate too; one almost grazed me from that distance."

The direct approach the Doctor adopted for dealing with the commotion proved far more effective than the one Nalan went with, and it left her feeling foolish in the aftermath. Erlan provided them with some very important intel, and Nalan nodded as the pieces fell together. "Sounds like... they have a sniper, and some good surveillance, too. Which means we're not going to be able to sneak in there. Going to have to go with shock and awe. We've got my helicopter, your rocket bike," she glanced at Ace hesitantly, unsure if the gunslinger would volunteer her vehicle for such a dangerous task. "I make 'em keep their heads down while you close the distance. And... if you have transportation," she pointed at the troll, "Then we can take them from three angles, they'll have nowhere to hide." She grinned, anticipating being able to use her chopper's weapon system on some targets that might actually be able to shoot back.

A thought occurred to her and she turned to Erlan questioningly. "Do you have any weapons? Want to come along and kick these guys asses with us? Might impress your lady friend, fighting to protect your city like that. Goes for you too..." she said with a smile, looking at Damir as well, though she doubted he would take her up on the offer. Perhaps if the young lad thought it might get him a leg up on his competition, he might be more eager to assist them.

Erlan perks up at the question, his eyes shining with a mixture of hope and doubt and disbelief. It is a look Nalan recognizes; she imagines she probably had the same expression when the Doctor asked her to help him. "You-you mean it?" He stammers, "I-I can come? I wouldn't just get in the way?"
Next to him, Damir gives a derisive snort.

"Um, well... y-yeah. I don't see why not," Nalan paused to discreetly glance at the Doctor to see if he disproved of the idea. "Do you have a gun or way to defend yourself? At the very least it sounds like you're a good scout... As long as you can keep your cool when the shooting starts you should be fine." Nalan knew there was a chance that he wouldn't be fine, but it was his town, and she felt he should have the option to do what he could to defend it. She would want the same courtesy extended to her if Karavan was in trouble.