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Post by E-Stalin [Orthrus] on Oct 5, 2009 20:48:37 GMT -5
No one detects you. This close to the house you notice that there is a window on the East side, really nothing more than a square cut into the wall with wooden shutters over it. The shutters are positioned at such an angle that you can't see in or out of the hut, but you can see that there are no lights on inside.
Within the hour, the guard facing East stands up and walks over to the far East cliff-face, apparently to take a piss. The other guy continues to face west and drink from the bottle.
The guard is stumbling slightly, obviously tipsy or even flat-out drunk. He has, of course, taken his rifle with him. It's either either an AKM or the older models of the AK-74, most likely the former. He's carrying it casually, by the handguards with his left hand, not using the sling. There is a handgun holstered in a cross-draw fashion on his left hip, the muzzle pointing behind him. The cliff-face has some jungle vegetation growing at it's base, at least two feet away from it, and it's quite dark. If you want God to give you any better spot, you're spoiled.
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Cerberus
Unblooded
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Posts: 46
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Post by Cerberus on Oct 10, 2009 14:06:41 GMT -5
I stood up into a crouch and began to slowly make my way in a straight line South. I walked quietly, using the thick green grass to cushion each footstep. I tested each step with the toe of the boot first, feeling for a rock, or branch, and then brought the ball of my heel down, rolling it on the grass as it took the weight. The process was practiced and I moved at a comfortable pace, just a bit beneath a standard walk. I had headed in a diagonal line to the East until I was a short distance behind the other guard, crouched low, hidden in the dark.
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Post by E-Stalin [Orthrus] on Oct 10, 2009 15:10:22 GMT -5
As far as you can tell, you remain unnoticed. The guard in front of you has stopped at the edge of the foilage and is busy unzipping, having slung the AK over his shoulder.
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Cerberus
Unblooded
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Posts: 46
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Post by Cerberus on Oct 10, 2009 15:42:25 GMT -5
I remained crouched low, dark against the ground. No silhouette to notice, any wandering eyes would pass right over me unless they were actively searching for a humanoid figure. I glanced quickly over my shoulder to check on the other guard, and then turned back to the guard in front of me, now moving slowly, carefully, waiting for him to begin urinating. The sound of the liquid splashing against the low foliage combined with the general buzz of insects and wildlife of the jungle completely masked any small sounds I made. The swishing of my pant leg against the grass couldn't be heard even by me. I advanced ever so slowly, until I was crouched low to the grass literally a foot behind him. And I waited, clutching the small Puuko hunting knife in my right hand. I held the blade in a rather unusual grip, clutching it at the top and bottom of the handle rather then a full grip. The blade was held vertically with the edge facing upwards. I was used to a particular brand of knife combat designed by the Soviet's for their Nr-40 Scout Knives in WWII. Just a tad ironic, since the design was also most helpful in slitting throats. I waited in the darkness until I hear the flow urine begin to slow, stutter, and finally cease. And as the man shook himself off, ready to zip himself up, I smoothly stood and moved both of my hands forward at the same time. I clutched his greasy hair with my left hand, yanking it downwards towards his chest and exposing the back of his neck. And at the same time I sank the blade through the base of his skull, a few inches above the first vertebrae. The steel completely severed his spinal column, and the medulla oblongata as well perhaps.
Instantly the man crumpled. He just folded in on himself, as if he were made of nothing more then rags. I caught him beneath the armpits and gently crouched with his fall, stopping him from thumping into the ground. The entire procedure had taken three seconds, from standing to crouching again. The man was twitching repeatedly, small jerks in his limbs. Tsk... Probably failed to fully severe the spinal column. No matter. I lay on top of him, hidden in the darkness, and watched the other guard at the west. The firelight illuminated him. There was nothing to illuminate me, or his old friend. I hopped over the new corpse and gripped the Puuko. It was buried almost to the hilt in the man's neck, a good four inches of steel implanted in his flesh. I removed it with a smooth pull and wiped both sides and the top and bottom of the blade on the man's pantleg. Then I slipped the knife back into its sheath, grabbed the corpse under its armpits, and quickly dragged it back into the foliage at the base of the cliff, vanishing with him into the black.
Every action was quick, smooth, precise. It hadn't taken more then six or seven seconds in total to kill him and remove him from sight. And there I patted him down briefly to feel for his weapons, and took only the handgun and the rifle. I didn't bother searching the rest of him just yet. -----
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medic
Unblooded
It's cardiovascular, dude!|--|Default
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Post by medic on Oct 11, 2009 17:57:03 GMT -5
Standing beside the driver, Renald stared out of the windshield of the bus, studying the terrain and seeing a whole lot of nothing. He was tempted to roll his eyes at himself for being an idiot and overlooking his map that would've told him that the bus didn't really go close to where he needed it to. Still, it was his own mess to fix, and a hell of a lot better than having walked all this way already. Stepping off of the rickety old vehicle with a few, thudding, heavy steps, Renald moved clear of it and of any other traffic and started moving west along the road to Mokuba. Renald kept off to the side of the road, watching for the traffic, the sides of the road (for ambushes or items, perhaps), and the ground ahead- getting killed by a snake would be one of the most pointless deaths one could experience, and that was saying something for an area like this. As the dirt crunched beneath the timed march of his boots, Renald pulled his AK around on its sling and began examining it closer. As he reached up with the hand that wasn't supporting the gun and fidgeted with the selector switch, making sure it was on semi-auto, his attention was caught by a gust of wind flaring up and an empty, white truck roaring past, kicking up a cloud of dust from the bone-dry dirt road. Within a few seconds, the truck haphazardly rounded a bend and rocketed out of sight, leaving behind only a quickly dispersing wall of dust. Apparently, someone was in a big hurry to do something.
Renald shook his head and resumed walking down the road with his AK held loose and ready with both hands. Walk to Mokuba from Bus Station at grid 9
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