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Post by E-Stalin [Orthrus] on Dec 2, 2008 19:05:52 GMT -5
Shadow, you're fine, and as for weapons, it really depends on what the weapon is and where you are. Makarov pistols are all over the place for example, especially among novices in the Southern portions of the Zone. Mercenaries on the other hand will be equipped with high quality rifles and sidearms, while the Russian military will have PYa and AK rifles. The deeper into the Zone you go, the more dangerous it gets, and the more likely you are to find experienced Stalkers with better equipment. Your best bet is to purchase weapons and equipment from one of the Merchants or the Nomad, but if you don't have the money you'll be searching. Many people die in the Zone, and it's not uncommon to find a corpse. If someone else hasn't already stripped it, feel free to take whatever is on it. Of course, you deserve anything on someone you kill, so if you end up killing a bandit, take their rifle if they have one. As with everyone, the deeper North you go, the more experienced Stalkers will be there, and the more readily will you be able to access better weaponry and equipment. Equipment is just as important, remember.
Anyway, since this RP is involved with other RPs that took place, there are references here that will be unrecognizable, so use them for what they were intended, introduction. Sergei is an old character involved in another RP, and I'll be using old flashbacks of him to introduce you to new areas or people.------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 1st of October, 1998 Moscow, 107031 Lubyanka Square: FSB HeadquartersSergei sat in the plastic kids chair, a puff of smoke rising from the lit cigarette in his mouth. His fingers drummed on the plastic rim between his knees, dressed in a flimsy, undignified hospital gown. An unloaded rifle and pistol lay on the desk next to him, and they both looked like hell; covered in dirt and black scum mixed with bloody stains. Both of them were sitting in heavy duty plastic bags, a red Biohazard seal emblazoned on it. Sergei's hands were slightly shaking. He hadn't even been able to strike the match on his own. He did not look up at the man before him, who was listing through a lengthy report. The man sighed, tossed the folder onto a table, and leaned back, "Well, that went much better than we expected."
Sergei didn't answer, taking another long drag on the cheaply made Russian cigarette. The tip flared bright orange, creeping back along the paper. "You can drink yourself into a stupor soon enough. Forget about the others. The situation was a complete fuck over as it was, so forget about the guys. They're likely dead anyway, you know how absolutely ridiculous it is to wipe out an entire city. The Americans sterilized it for us. The fact that you actually tried to follow parameters is ridiculous, though considering how fucked up things got it's not surprising. People have done worse things before."
Sergei shook his head, "It's the kids."
Another sigh, "Yeah, you've been over this. Give yourself a day and get over it. You've done these things before, and you'll be doing them again. With this performance though, you've been commended." There was a dry, gruff chuckle, "I'm offering you two options, either one gets you a 1800 ruble monthly raise. You can go and get yourself re-assigned to urban militia as usual, or you can get back to your original post. No more incursions, just standard militia men pat-"
"The Zone. No question about it. I want to go back home. Where it's quiet..."
"All right then. In the meantime you've got yourself some vacation. Talk to Ludma about it. And by the way, you do realize that yesterday was your birthday, right? Come on, I got Stolichnaya for you. Your otryad is also waiting on us...------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 26th of April, 6:39 Cordon: B11The newly christened Stalkers were sitting around the fire, several of them looking down at their new possessions. Their only possessions. Some had ensured they were unloaded and were already moving their holsters and belts to their preferred positions, while others were working with the pistols. Only the complete novices were working with the pistols that is; unable to resist the curiosity that came with the first firearm they'd ever held. Most Russians had already used the PM in mandatory basic training, and set them aside to get on the holsters. All of them were wearing identical brown leather jackets, a hood sewn into them. Puffs of mist still rose from their breathing. Small electronic boxes lay in their laps, and with some people, already hung from the inside jacket pocket.The military man held up one of these boxes, "This is your PDA. I've already explained to you how important this is, and I won't repeat myself. What I didn't mention was that the Geiger counters are built into your PDAs. So are you radios, for that matter. The ones we distribute to you are in batches, so they're all same-line right now. It's highly recommended you get your own frequency sorted out. Now before you're finally allowed to enter the Zone in full, there is one last thing that we haven't gone over. PSI-Radiation. Most Stalkers just call it the Brain Scorcher. PSI-Radiation is an enigma in the Zone. Our military scientists and research personnel are still observing it, but at the moment all we know is that in certain areas of the Zone there are some really nasty places. We haven't been able to get to the center of the Zone because of this PSI-Radiation; its blanketing everything past Chernobyl Outpost-2, and even in the Yantar factory. What it does is exactly what the nickname implies. It fucks with your head, scorches your brain, and turns you into a retarded zombie idiot. Think of it like a chunk of Uranium sitting in your skull. Stalkers foolish enough to go too deep into those areas end up as what we refer to as Zombies. Brain-dead, violent, and aggressive, they wander the Zone. Shoot the fucking things on sight and don't bother asking about treatment or compassion. You'll be doing us and them a favor, someone has to clean up the garbage after all. Anyways, Stalkers will tell you when you're getting to close to such an area, though you'll probably feel it first. Typically, don't go too far North, and stay out of the Yantar factory, and you'll be fine." The man paused, taking a deep breath. He looked at the newcomers one last time and shook his head, "Get out of here." ---------------------------------------------------------------- screenshots.filesnetwork.com/52/news2/14012_137.jpgwww.webalice.it/requena/game/stalker/images/Cordon_07_04-41-32_big.jpg stalker.filefront.com/screenshots/News/14012/158 You may all now start posting. You are free to do what you wish, but remember, you guys all have stamina and health. You can't sprint kilometers North immediately, and it's unrecommended as you can be interrupted by dangers at any moment. Rest and eat as needed, and observe the area as necessary. I'll PM you all as needed with information on your surroundings with each leg you progress. I'll also keep all players notified on status and the situation. All players begin in the Cordon. The Cordon is in the Southernmost sector of the Zone, and also one of the least dangerous. The biggest threats are Bandits and Blind Dogs and Boars running about the wild areas. Mutants often hide in the old abandoned buildings, and there are groups of anomalies just north of the Cordon village. Stalkers that stay on the road are more likely to avoid any mutants. Midway through the Cordon is an old supply rail road. The rail road is set atop a steep hill, that essentially divides the Cordon in two. There are only three ways to get through it, going up and over, going through the underpass, or going through an underground tunnel. The hill is very steep and high chain fences are on top of the railroad, so climbing over it isn't easy, and recently the military has set up a small outpost in the underpass, requiring payment. Typical bastards; of course, you could always try to pull a Solid Snake and slip by. The remaining way through is the underground tunnel. As to its safety, that can't be really known until people get there, right?
On the midsection of the Cordon are large fields filled with yellowed grass and trees, while the Northern and Southern areas are wooded in a light forest. Stalkers are in the Cordon village and in the Northern checkpoint, as well as several parties here and there throughout. There is a bandit camp nearby, and bandits have recently attacked the Northern checkpoint as well.
The weather is currently overcast and cloudy, with black thunderheads forming. It may rain soon.
All Stalkers begin with 0 RU, one Makarov PM, two unloaded magazines, and one box of 40 9x18mm FMJ cartridges. They are issued a WWII Era NR-40 scouts knife: a small, sturdy knife with a clean, un-serrated clip-point blade and wooden handle. It's useful as a can opener and for stabbing. Stalkers are given one leather holster for the PM that can be clipped onto a belt, and one plastic knife sheath, also attachable to a belt. Other than that, your only protection is a leather jacket. Of course, we don't send Stalkers out to starve. You all get one bottle of water and one military Ration. They're more nutritious than they taste, believe me. You are all issued a small 30x20cm rucksack to carry anything you'd like with you.
The Merchant, Sidirovich is located in an underground bunker to the West of the Cordon, visit him at your leisure to get some early work. The only location available to visit right now is North, to the Dump. There is a bandit camp nearby, and a group of Stalkers is preparing to raid it and slaughter the pigs. Down the road South is a military outpost, and unless you have a deathwish, it should be avoided. Lone Stalkers, novices and the experienced alike, are all around the Cordon. Many are already leaving on the road North, and some can be found resting in ruins, buildings, or the trees. Welcome to the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone. Let's get started.
I will message you with your current inventory and status, which will be updated frequently. I'll be controlling NPCs, Merchants, and etc. Have fun.
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Post by Aseigan Cetanu on Dec 2, 2008 20:17:00 GMT -5
Vasyl looked around at the new stalkers, him one among them. His breath fogged in the cold air. He turned to the west, walking towards where he hoped Sidirivoch would be. He turned back towards the other stalkers one last time, before saying "If anybody wants to pair up with me for this hell-hole, I'd appreciate it if you began following me now instead of me wasting a round shooting at you when you pop up on the road." And with that, he turned back to the west, and walked to the small underground base where he knew Sidirivoch was. His breath fogged in the air around his face, with a little shadow of hair from not having shaved in a few days. He figured he wasn't going to be shaving much in this nuclear wasteland either. He walked alertly, one hand near his gun the entire time. He wasn't jumpy; he was more likely to think before he shot, but if there was danger, he had to be ready. He found his way to the small underground base where Sidirivoch was, and walked inside, taking his hand away from his gun. "Our tour guide told me that you might have some work available for a new Stalker?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. His hands were out where Sidirivoch could see him; he knew not to put his hands in his pockets in a war zone, or its nuclear equivalent. His knife and gun were also clearly visible, and so Vasyl had ensured the merchant knew what he was doing at any one time.
Vasyl asked if anyone would like to come accompany him, then without another word walked to Sidirivoch, attempted to establish a bit of trust by keeping his hands in the open, then asked him if he could find a job.
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Post by Blade Knight on Dec 2, 2008 22:35:40 GMT -5
Adrian Yuri stood amongst his fellow Stalker recruits amidst the dismal Cordon. He turned his gaze to the bleak, darkening clouds above and let out a long sigh. “Looks like rain… just what I needed…” he muttered to himself solemnly. The ex-con had a quiet, rough voice that suited his personality. With a small grunt, he tugged his bandana down closer to his eyebrows and adjusted the hood of his jacket, which he wore open with his PDA snug in the inside pocket. He wandered to the west, where he found a nice building to block the crisp, whistling Russian winds. He sat with his back against this building, which, like everything around here, looked worn out and broken. As he kept one eye on passing Stalkers, he fished around in his rucksack for his stuff. Adrian looked over his Makarov handgun with a sour face. It had been a while since his last opportunity to operate a firearm, he feared this particular skill was a little rusty. He got out his box of ammo, his magazines, and his holster. He carefully freed each round from its packaging and began sliding the copper-encased bullets into a mag, counting as each one went in. “…Six…Seven…Eight.” he murmered. “Only eight? Seams a little low. Damn, this really isn’t my day…” He finished filling both mags provided and turned his attention to the PM. He pushed up on the slide release and pulled back the slide, checking for a round in the chamber. Satisfied that the weapon was empty, he reversed his previous operation, then slid a magazine up into the grip with a reassuring click. He hit the safety, then put the gun away in it’s holster, locking it in place with the strap’s stud. He stuffed the spare magazine in the holster’s mag slot, then surveyed his remaining ammunition. “Looks like I’ve got enough for three more mags. Better find some soon so I can get it all loaded up.” He strapped the holster snugly against his right thigh and threw the ammo box back into his rucksack. Then he examined his knife. This little piece of hardware he was significantly more comfortable with. He unsheathed it and twirled it between his fingers playfully before placing it back in its sheath and secured it horizontally behind his hip, facing to the left. He preferred to use his knives in his left hand; placing it like this gave him easy access to it and to keep it concealed, as well as giving him a small advantage. Most people, even veteran street fighters, can be caught off guard with a lightning-quick slash from the left. They expect the right hand to be more dangerous, so they often focus on defending against that side of the body. Fighting a leftie can be awkward, and fatal, if one is not suspecting it. He finished gearing up by stuffing his binoculars into one of his many pants pockets, then popping his Potassium Iodine pill for the day. He strapped on his baggy rucksack and stood, looking out over the dark, windswept horizon and sighed again. “And so… my final mission begins…”
POST SUMMARY: Place PDA; Move west to building; Suspiciously keep tabs on surroundings; Check, load, and place firearm; Place knife; Place binoculars; Take pill
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Post by E-Stalin [Orthrus] on Dec 5, 2008 18:19:18 GMT -5
The underground bunker was four flights of stairs down, made out of flaking concrete. It was well lit, with yellow lamps shielded by grills hanging from the ceiling, painting the inside of the place in a warm yellow. The staircase was completely undecorated, leading down to a heavy steel door that looked as if it had been ripped out of a Destroyer. The door was currently open, framing the way into the Merchant's place of residence.
It was a small concrete room, with not much more space in it than a couple average closets. There was a wooden bench to the right, an ancient computer sitting on a desk next to it. To the left was a row of green metal lockers, a pair of BDU pants lying on top of them. One of the lockers was open, showing small boxes of ammunition lying on shelves inside. In the corner stood an unmarked red compressed gas canister that was almost head height. What it was filled with was up to speculation. In the middle of the room was a counter stretching from wall to wall, and above this counter was a heavy-duty wire mesh that separated one side of the room from the other. There was no door or space through the counter, the only way in was going completely around to a location that wasn't handed out freely, and was likely locked. It was a typical layout found in African conflict zones, essentially the same thing that separated a bank teller from a customer, just with wire mesh instead of plastic or glass. Only in African conflict zones guards were certain to strip anyone down first. Merchants were often paranoid, and not without good reason. Sidirovich himself sat behind the counter, tearing into a hunk of chicken. The place was obviously his own room. A quality computer sat next to him, documents were on the table along with a disassembled pistol. A rifle and heavy duty BDU was sitting on another table to his left, along with all sorts of other items in the room. A refrigerator was against the wall next to him, and several cans of Kvass were scattered throughout the place.
Sidirovich glanced up at Vasyl, muttered something harsh in Russian, and looked back down at the chicken. He was an aged, heavyset, and balding man. Obviously not someone that wandered the Zone any more. A few moments later he pushed aside the chicken, wiped his hands on a rag, and leaned back. He remained quiet for a short while, and then sighed, “What is it with you people? You come in here expecting work, and half of you end up dead within the week. Just a waste of resources. But…I supposed you have to start somewhere. How well can you fight? Well, never mind that, listen. Volk is the main leader of forces down in the Cordon, and right now a group of Stalkers are organizing a raid on a bandit camp near here. I can’t offer you work if you can’t last the day. Go and talk to Volk, help them out with the camp. He’ll pay you, and you can keep whatever is over there.” He waved his hand as if shooing a fly, “Go on, get out of here. And if you work it out, come back here. I need you to open a pickle jar for me later."
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Post by Aseigan Cetanu on Dec 6, 2008 21:26:18 GMT -5
Vasyl nodded respectfully, saying "Yes, sir." in a respectful tone, before turning away and leaving. He walked away from the hut, the stairs creaking as each of the steel-toed boots hit it. Finally, he had made his way to the very top of the stairs. He looked around, looking for anybody who might want to come along. He knew from personal experience that numbers made it harder to kill someone, and he preferred to have a few others around until he could find a better weapon that could be used with a bit more stealth, or a bit more stopping power, or a bit more accuracy, or a bit more ammunition, or a bit more... anything. He looked down at the Makarov. Sure, it would stop a human, but would it stop 5 or 6? He knew he needed help. He saw Adrian Yuri leaning against a nearby building, and walked up to him, the old, worn out black boots making a hard sound as they casually fell to the floor with each step. He looked him over with a flick of his eyes, then spoke. "My name's Vasyl, and it looks to me like you're one of the few around here besides me who's actually held a gun before. The guy in the bunker tells me they're organizing some kind of a raid on a bandit camp, and I was wondering whether you'd like to join up with me. The main guy's name is apparently 'Volk', so if we can find this guy we might actually manage to get something out of it. Sound good?" Vasyl was standing erect, looking him straight in the eye with his hands crossed. The old jacket crumpled at the joint, looking like an elderly, wrinkled skin against his arm, one that had been there far too long. The hood was still around his head, and his breath fogged in the air as he spoke. He waited patiently for his fellow stalker's response.
Got instructions, introduced self to Adrian, offered to be ally.
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Post by Blade Knight on Dec 6, 2008 22:58:06 GMT -5
Adrian caught sight of the stranger as he approached, and watched suspiciously as he made his way over to him. “Vasyl, huh?” he asked gruffly, noticing the Russian flag on the other man’s arm. “You ex-military or something? You carry yourself like you are, or else you’re just trying to make a good impression.” Still, Adrian was intrigued by Vasyl’s openness. There was nothing hidden, nothing held back in his honest request for an ally. Regardless of who he was, Adrian’s initial reaction was that he could trust him. And if he’d learned anything from his past experiences, it was that there nothing more important in such dangerous operations as trust. He offered Vasyl his gloved hand for a firm handshake. “Adrian Yuri,” he introduced himself. “You have a very trusting feel to you. Don’t let others take advantage of that.” He ran a hand over the black bandana wrapped around his head. It was fortunate of him to have it, it provided his head with warmth and prevented sweat from dripping into his face. Both functions were sure to be a great help out here in the zone. Then he shoved his hands into his pockets and beckoned for Vasyl to walk with him. “Come on, lets go find this Volk. While I’m not entirely sure what I think about raiding a bandit camp, he’ll undoubtedly be able to provide more details. Besides, you’re right about looking for a teammate. Safety in numbers, right?” As they wandered through the Cordon in search of Volk, Adrian produced his PDA and began investigating its various functions. “We should check with Volk what radio frequencies to use during the raid,” he said to Vasyl. “If this operation has any sort of decent organization, We’ll need proper communications. Also, depending on the nature of the operation, we might need to request additional gear. I’ve inventoried the stuff they’d provided us with - we’ve got five mags worth of ammo, but only two mags to load it with. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to have to stop in the middle of a firefight to fill those things up again. And with only eight shots per reload, those rounds are gonna be gone before you know it…” He experimented with various buttons and menus on his PDA, getting familiar with its usage. With any luck, he might find a way to locate Volk with this thing…
POST SUMMARY: Talk to Vasyl; Search the Cordon for Volk; Investigate PDA, with particular regard to anything relating to Volk's location or other points of interest.
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Post by E-Stalin [Orthrus] on Dec 8, 2008 20:48:17 GMT -5
26th of April, 6:44 Cordon: F10, Bandit Camp
Kochevnik hit the dirt flat on his stomach, immediately lying down almost completely flat. His rucksack hit the ground next to him, shrugged off his shoulders. He remained very still for several moments, breathing deeply through his nose, like a tired runner that was halfway to his limit and hadn't begun to pant yet. After a few seconds he reached to his hip and switched on the radio in his PDA. The PDA screen remained unlit, the back light turned off. He quietly spoke into the mic at the corner of his mouth, "I'm here. Dropped in grid F10, the grass hill, wayside." The answer was transmitted through the wire stuck in the radio and to the earphone on the Nomad's ear. Only he could hear the voice. The response was quick and blunt, "You're late." "Don't you dare start."
There was a rough chuckle on the other end, Sidirovich wasn't a patient man. "All right, I couldn't resist. Eighteen minutes past schedule doesn't make me happy. I think you broke a record getting here as it is anyway. In what kind of Hell do you actually run through the Zone like that?"
"I got a Monster from the Barman. Two Monsters actually. Bloody American energy drinks; now I know how the Cold War started. I feel sorry for anyone that drinks these things on a regular basis, they'll be going through hell here. No coffee. Anyway, I had to lose the Kombinezone to do it, just got the Bekas. I didn't bother with a Leshy. You actually postponed for me?"
"Hell no. You think I'd make an exception for you? There aren't any bloody Stalkers around. By the time we got a good group of Novices in position you were already on the Cordon border, so I waited a couple minutes. The only newcomers are that foreign group I mentioned, a couple of them don't even speak four words of Russian. Fucking American pigs."
Kochevnik pulled the pair of B8x30 binoculars from the back of his waist and looked up slightly, putting the lenses to his eyes. He kept his left eye shut, looking through his right only. The right lens of the binoculars had the range-finder imprinted onto the glass. He swept his eyes from left to right, surveying the red brick ruins. "Cold War ended, put your racism aside for a minute and help me out. I didn't run all the way over here for that bull. Now, I can't see hell in this light as it is. Thunderheads just rolled in and it looks like midnight here. Give me a minute."
The Bandit Camp was located among the old ruins by the Cordon. It was a group of red brick buildings with wood rooftops and floors. Generalissmus Stalin would have approved. The buildings were all empty now, and many of them were partially crumbled. Rooftops were partially destroyed on almost every building, and most of them only had the triangular wooden beams remaining as cover. Many walls had large holes in them, which made doors rather unnecessary. Most of the Bandits here were essentially novices themselves, preying on fresh Stalkers that didn't have the experience to resist much. They were poorly equipped, carrying Makarovs and old hunting shotguns, and experienced Stalkers despised them like the plague. Fucking scum and nothing more. These guys actually considered themselves one big happy family; enough to wear the same uniform. The Bandits that he could see were all wearing the black Bandit's leather jacket and hood. Typical. He could hardly see any of them right now, but either they were complete idiots, or they felt confident in their security, because they'd actually lit up fires in the buildings. Sergei was looking through one collapsed wall and into the building, straight at three bandits sitting around a campfire, eating sausages and chatting. A shotgun was lying next to one, no other weaponry was visible on these three. A fourth Bandit was leaning up against the wall, and he settled the Mil-Scale on his binoculars onto him.
Mil-scale was the most commonly used rangefinder systems in modern militaries. They weren't as common in Russia, particularly on telescopic sights, but nonetheless, Soviet and Russian binocular reticles still used Mil-Scale. Scopes used Russian range-finders. One Milliradian was equivalent to one meter at 1000 meters. That made them easy enough to use to determine range to a target. All that was needed was target height and basic mathematics, something many people couldn't be bothered to do without the aid of a calculator. According to the Russian military, average height of a human was 1.7 meters. The mathematical formula here was height multiplied by 1000 and divided by the Mil-reticle measurement. The Nomad estimated the standing Bandit to be at about 5.50 Mils in the binocular reticle. 1700 divided by 5.50...that was a maximum of 340..add in the .5 and you got...309 point something. Point 0..9, which was 309.09 meters.
"All right, I've got six of them, just over 300 meter range. Four by the fire, South-Eastern quadrant, one taking a piss outside, and a sentry on the roof, North-Eastern quad. The guy is using his naked eyes so he can't see anything, don't worry about him. Of course, get Volk to tell those Novices not to run around like idiots, or they'll be seen even without optics. What do your guys say?"
"Total of ten targets minimum, maybe fifteen max, unless they've got a platoon holed up in the fireplace. Three hundred, that's easy enough for you. The weather any deterrent?"
The Nomad almost growled, his voice hoarser than an old Russian navy captain, one too many cigarettes having hindered the health of his vocal cords, "No, not at this range. Assuming it is three hundred. I don't trust mil-scale, especially without a bipod. Can't keep the bloody thing steady. How many guys you got set up?"
"Just six. And Shinok is on sniper detail, so the entry team will be just one experienced Stalker, old Wolfy, and four novices. The foreign group just got set loose, so I'm delaying the penetration so some of these guys can get over there. There's only a couple that look like they've ever handled a cannon before, so don't get your hopes up. I'll wait ten minutes max. How's your masking?"
"Eh...KLMK, Birch variant. Good old Cordon camo, and I turned it inside out for night-use. They wouldn't even see neon right now though. If it starts to rain then I'll start believing in God. What's Shinok carrying?"
Sidirovich suddenly started laughing, "You're wearing Sun bunnies!? You old Communist bastard. Pup's got a Three-Liner. One that was probably last fired in Berlin. So unless you got Volk a Kostyor, you're their primary support. Get set up if you haven't already, I'll finish slapping the newcomers upside the head and get them out to you. I'll patch Volk through to you, so set up your KD and when you finish, drag your rear over here. I haven't seen you for weeks and I've got some business."
Kochevnik lowered the binoculars and looked over the ruins with his naked eyes for few seconds. He couldn't see any detail at this range, and the Bandits outside completely vanished in the dark. He never focused directly on an object, his eyes instinctually sought a point nearby it and focused there. At nighttime you couldn't focus properly on your point of sight. Not directly at least. The eyes worked differently in darkness; you had to look at objects with the peripheral vision areas. It was counter-intuitive and difficult to practice, but any sniper knew to look at objects only off-center at nighttime in order to see them clearly. He examined the place for a few more seconds, and then slid the binoculars back in their case. Remaining flat in the dead-yellow grass, he reached out to his side and picked up the SVD rifle he'd put down. He slid it in front of him, and then reached over to the rucksack and pulled out four dirty green socks. The socks were tied shut at the end, and bulged out like small pillows. A classic sniper technique, old gym socks filled with sand. He'd had to use plain dirt though. He set the socks on top of eachother, making a crude but decent enough support stand for the rifle. Two socks made the rifle support, and the other two were used to support his elbows. The less his arms floated in the air the steadier his aim would be. Then he pulled the SVD toward him and got in his shooting position. His waist and down remained in contact with the ground, but his chest was lifted up off the ground by his elbows. It was almost like half of a push-up position. He set the rifle onto the gym socks, settled his arms properly, and sighted down the PSO-1M2 military scope. It had been set to a PBZ of 300 meters, and the extra 9 meters range was set within his Danger Space, so there was no need for adjustment. He could compensate if need be. He didn't aim though. He just settled in at the general direction of the bandits and flicked a small switch under the scope, and the black reticle was immediately illuminated in a perfectly visible red. The LED light illuminated the reticle perfectly, letting him easily distinguish it from the dark surroundings. The safety was already off, a round chambered, and he was ready to fire. Then he put his head down, looking at the ruins, and waited. Volk started talking to him a moment later.
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Note that I will not be participating directly in the RP under a great scale. Hopefully this post provides a decent example of what I'd meant, and otherwise Kochevnik (One of the Merchants) will seldom be involved in any operation. He is a Merchant and guide for other Stalkers. For the most part you guys can interact with him as any other Merchant. This is the only time he'll be involved with other Stalkers for a while, and later he will not be directly involved in your guys RPing. When I am playing however, he will be my primary character.
An enigmatic man, very little is known about his past, or even his present, although a vast number of rumors circulate. What is known for certain is that the Nomad has resided in the Zone since its creation. He lived in the Zone even before the second explosion, and was present when it went up in 2006. He was one of the first people to be in the Zone, even before Sidirovich and the Barman, and has stayed there ever since. He is quiet possibly the most experienced Stalker in the entire Zone because of this, and one of the most powerful in status. He officially works with the Russian military, served with the Mercenaries, and directly cooperates with the Merchants. With these groups, he is directly involved with the forces that for all intents and purposes, control the Zone. As a Merchant he is responsible for military equipment and weaponry, but overall he helps other Stalkers. He has a very methodical, misanthropic, nihilist, atheistic, and cynical outlook on life and humanity in general, but will almost always help other Stalkers, whether they're novices or complete assholes. He often goes out into the Zone by himself or participates in military operations and missions for the other Merchants. In particular he often helps Stalkers raid Bandit groups. He absolutely despises criminal filth and murderers and shows them no mercy. Of course, he's rational, and won't slaughter someone just because they stole something.
He can often be found in the Duty Faction Base, fueling the war between Duty and Freedom. He can be traded with, though he refuses to sell certain equipment to Stalkers unless they have a certain level of experience or reputation. He can be asked for information on almost anything in the Zone, and will gladly teach new Stalkers about their firearms or Zone survival tactics if asked. Overall, he's an assholic good Samaritan and a full blown mercenary. His primary obligation is to the Russian government, which means military and scientist personnel. He is most often hired for heavy duty assassination and combat support by other, non-governmental Stalkers, although his prices for this are exorbitant.
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A group of new Stalkers are raiding the Bandit Camp in the F10, 9, and G10/9 buildings. Any new Stalkers participating are not only greatly appreciated, but are allowed to salvage much of anything they find there, from weapons and ammo to uniforms. Friendly note, it's inadvisable to wear a Bandit outfit, unless you want to be shot on sight. The raid will begin in ten minutes (RP time), and if you don't want to get involved, stay away from the firefights. It is now quiet dark, and will very likely rain in a few minutes. Most mutants take shelter during rain and storms, but nonetheless, watch your step.
After examination of your PDA, you've noticed a documented list of known Stalkers in the zone, including Volk, and also noticed that the PDA shows the location of Volk's PDA, which is now on F9 by the road, along with a small group of other novice Stalkers.
Sidirovich has already notified Volk that he was sending him another novice, and therefore you are expected, just don't run around screaming and blow their cover.
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Post by Aseigan Cetanu on Dec 9, 2008 16:40:09 GMT -5
Vasyl looked over Adrian's shoulder, nodding. "Alright." he said gruffly, his eyes flickering with glee at the chance to get back to what he was best at, the only occupation he had ever endured for any length of time; killing. "So." Vasyl said, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. "What do you think? We go up by the road, or through the woods? I'm game for either, but then again, I doubt they'd build a road through a vortex of whirling death." Vasyl looked around at their dismal surroundings. 'Not that being sucked into one would in any way be worse than here.' he thought to himself. He had known the place was going to be horrible, grimy, and covered in all manner of filth; He was used to that. But this was just completely worse than that. It looked as if nobody had so much as blown away or stepped on the grime in 30 years. He stared back at Adrian coolly, waiting for his 'partner's' response. Looked at PDA, Talked to Adrian, thought pessimistic thoughts, stared at Adrian in wait for a response.
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Post by Blade Knight on Dec 11, 2008 16:39:23 GMT -5
Adrian brought up the map on his PDA and held it out for Vasyl to see. He traced the road with his fingertip and said, “The shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Lucky for us, the road is a straight shot to F9, where Volk is waiting. We should talk to him before advancing on the Bandit camp, let him know we’re coming. Wouldn’t want to confuse the others by randomly popping up in the middle of the fight, now would we? Besides, the road is our safest bet anyway.” He paused for a moment as he took in the dusk surroundings, suddenly aware of a crucial detail. “Hey, it’s dark!” he announced, exclaiming the obvious as if he only just now noticed. With one look at the expression on his teammate’s face, he quickly explained. “If you were planning a raid, when would you do it? At night right? And Volk is already at the camp! Dammit, the raid’s gonna start any minute! Shit, we gotta move! Come on!” Even as he rushed out to the road, his hand went to his Makarov, snatching it out of its holster and pulling back the slide, chambering a round. He left the safety on and kept his finger pointed along the barrel, off the trigger, and kept it at his waist with slightly bent elbows. Damn! His head filled with curses as they carefully hurried through the dark. Even before he got here, he had heard frightening stories about the Exclusion Zone and the horrid monsters that lurked there. He had told himself he’d take it easy when he got here, get used to how things were, not do anything reckless or stupid. And what was he doing now, just after arriving? Sprinting out of the Cordon, at night, on the verge of a storm, with nothing but a pistol and a buddy, rushing off to an inevitable firefight. Adrian cursed under his breath again. They made their way to F9 as swiftly and carefully as possible, trying not to attract mutant attention by dashing from cover to cover, watching and listening hard for anything unusual. Making the best possible time given the circumstances, Adrian addressed Volk upon their arrival. “Volk? Sidirovich sent us,” he reported. “We’re here to join you guys for the raid. What’s the situation here?”
POST SUMMARY: Discover Volk with PDA; Talk to Vasyl; Ready sidearm (chamber round, safety on); Carefully hurry to F9 by road; Report to Volk for instruction
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Post by Aseigan Cetanu on Dec 11, 2008 17:37:15 GMT -5
Vasyl pulled his Makarov out of its holster as well. He had chambered a round and turned the safety off when they had arrived, and his mag was as full as a fat rich guy who lived by himself on Thanksgiving. He carried it in one hand, though he generally fired with two, and his arm was bent so the side of the gun was inches from his chest. He looked over at Volk, and nodded, saying gruffly "I'm with him." He then turned to look at the other Stalkers around. The group looked as rag-tag as the group he had come in with, but he had expected that. He looked around. "Good thing its dark." he said, mostly to himself. "'Else we'd probably be shot on sight by these bandits or whatever you wanna call 'em. Hope they don't have anything valuable like infrared goggles or binoculars or anything, 'cause if they do I think its fairly safe to assume half of us'll be dead by the time we make it to camp." He looked around, and finding a nearby rock, sat on it and started looking over his stuff to make sure it was properly secured and ready to go.
Drew Makarov, followed Adrian, talked to Volk, hoped they didn't have detection technology, checked himself over.
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Post by E-Stalin [Orthrus] on Dec 12, 2008 19:05:50 GMT -5
26th of April, 6:46 Cordon: F9, Bandit Camp
With a booming roll of thunder, it started to rain. It drizzled for the first few moments, and then quickly turned into a downpour. The dark silhouettes of five crouched forms were briefly illuminated in a distant flash of lighting, and then faded back to bare shadows. The party was huddled under the branches of a tall tree, taking at least some shelter from the rain. Most of them were obviously novices, dressed in plain leather jackets. PMs were carried, and one of them had a double-barreled shotgun hanging off his neck by a sling. Volk was the only experienced Stalker, visible by his garb. He sat with a hand jammed over his ear to try and hear some radio transmission over the downpour. He briefly waved to the two foreigners when they were close and didn't move again. He didn't answer either, continuing to talk over the radio in rapid Russian while keeping his eyes on Vasyl and Adrian. In a few seconds he put his hand down and yelled over the rain, "Yeah I was told. The whole thing's very simple, there's a little over ten of them holed up a hundred meters that way, " he jerked over his shoulder with his thumb, pointing straight at the tree, "We have two marksmen set up, and they'll pick some of them off for us, from then in we just raid it as usual. The two of you have any experience? I mean any. I don't want to get shot in the rear by panic fire."
---------- It's raining. Heavily. And it's quiet cold, so find a polar bear and dress up.
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Post by Aseigan Cetanu on Dec 12, 2008 19:16:58 GMT -5
Vasyl nodded at Volk. "Yeah, I used to work in this kind of thing pre-Zone. But this'll be my first raid." He looked around once more. "How long till we head in?" he asked, tucking the gun into the left side of his jacket through the opening in the zipper. He didn't know how reliable this gun was, and he didn't want anything getting too rusty before he had to buy a bit more ammo. "Hey, what kind of things these bandits using? I wanna know what I'm picking up if I see anything I like." The man, his short-cut hair kept covered from the rain under his brown leather jacket's worn out hood, used his eyes to survey the scene around him, not turning his head at all. He himself didn't really want to get hit in the butt by a bullet either. He reached up with the hand not holding the Makarov PM and scratched his chin, the scraggly hairs bending flat underneath his moving fingers. He stood now, and his boots were covered in many drops of water and were starting to become caked in mud. He wiped a little of the mud off on the rock that he'd been sitting on. He needed to make sure his feet didn't get too heavy, or he'd be weighted down and might get shot. He needed to take every precaution. He stopped scratching his beard and looked straight at Volk, waiting for a response for these questions at least.
Answered Volk; Asked Volk about bandit guns; Covered gun; Surveyed area; thought to himself; Wiped off his boot; Waited for response.
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Post by Blade Knight on Dec 12, 2008 22:58:55 GMT -5
“Don’t worry about me,” Adrian answered confidently, just loud enough to be heard over the torrents of icy rainfall. It was not in his nature to be careless. In fact, he was currently more concerned by the rain than he was about the bandits at the moment. He could not afford to let poor weather affect his performance. He lifted his face directly into the pounding downpour, as if challenging it to do its worst. He just had to accept that he was soaked through, and just suck it up and deal with it. He convinced himself that it was no big deal, that he would dry off eventually, and imagined the chill not as hampering, but refreshing. It was a militant exercise, mind over matter. Ignore the rain. Deal with the rain. There was no changing the rain, so there was no point worrying about it. The operation would continue, regardless of the weather. Adrian found himself slowly becoming oblivious to the adverse conditions. He no longer cared if he was wet or cold, all he knew was that other people needed him at his best. He refused to let them down. Now fully prepared, Adrian returned his attention to Volk, waiting for his go.
POST SUMMARY: Reply; Overcome rain; Await operation commencement
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Post by E-Stalin [Orthrus] on Dec 13, 2008 22:52:42 GMT -5
Most of the men offered quick greetings. A short raise of the hand in the equivalent of a wave, and some guy muttered, "Zdorova". Volk leaned forward, unfolding a small square of dampened paper. "How would I know? As far as we can tell it's nothing but pistols and shotguns. Maybe a hunting rifle or two, and be thankful for that. All right then, we're already ready for this, so take a look and we'll get started."
The wrinkled paper had a pencil-drawn map of the ruins, pretty well shaded and detailed too. The entire complex was ringed by the remnants of a brick and wrought iron fence, which was chest height where it was still intact. Most of it was crumpled into dust and could be stepped over. The rest of the place was made up of four buildings, two of them connected to each other and making up a small courtyard between them. The PDA map provided a decent picture of it.
Volk pointed to the Southernmost building, "Most everyone we can see is sitting in here. There's some campfires going and anyone not participating is probably asleep at the rear of it. There's one guy standing right outside, and one sentry on the roof here, "He pointed to the Northern corner of the group. Under that sentry are two more guys having breakfast. "We have two marksmen, and they'll start pick anyone off that's outside. When they're down, we'll rush. They won't see a damned thing in this weather, so we just run right up to the buildings and split. One guy goes around the back of the building and takes a look while four wait out front. If anyone is sleeping in the back, they'll get inside and kill them as quietly as possible before the rest of us blow through the building. Two others will work on the Northern pair, the sentry will be picked off. Now when we rush it'll happen very fast. They're relaxed, unprepared, and they'll get mowed down without ever getting a shot off. This shouldn't be at all difficult. All we have to do is wait outside the entrance, step in, and shoot them before they can even stand up. Remember, one of us might end up in the back, so watch your fire. He'll just hit the deck, so don't shoot him if you go back there. We'll transmit information over by radio, but don't say anything else. These things are loud."
Volk handed the paper to Vasyl and stood up, stretching. "If you get the idea, we'll be going in just a minute. Only things you need to remember are to stay bloody quiet, don't talk at all, and kill them. If you wound some guy, finish them off."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Total Targets are as thus: One sentry on the Northern rooftop, with two men downstairs. Four men are in the front area of the Southern building, with one standing just outside in the rain. Anyone else is obscured, probably sleeping in the back of the Southern building. The raid will start when ready.
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Post by Aseigan Cetanu on Dec 14, 2008 9:20:21 GMT -5
Vasyl nodded. "Alright then, lets go." he said with nod of his head. He looked toward Volk. "I'll take point, alright?" Vasyl kept his gun within his jacket as they quickly made their way down to the Bandit camp. Their feet made tiny squelching sounds, sickening, like a pig with the wind knocked out of it, with every step. After each and every tiny sound, there was a new layer of gooey, brown mud caking their feet. Vasyl didn't bother to shake it off. The mud had gotten to the point where it was cushioning his steps, and he'd grown used to the weight of the dirt and water glue on the way down to this ramshackle camp. He turned to find Volk right behind him. He whispered as quietly as possible, looking down the road at the tiny, distorted lights that were the campfires of the bandits "So, when's your marksmen gonna take out the sentry?" He pulled his gun out of his jacket, keeping his elbow bent and loose, and put a hand over the top. "I'm ready whenever he is." he muttered quietly.
Took point on the way down to the camp; Asked when the marksmen would take out the sentry; Took his gun out and got ready to attack.
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Post by Blade Knight on Dec 14, 2008 17:04:46 GMT -5
Adrian hustled through the rain with everyone else, and for a moment considered flipping up his hood. He dismissed the idea; he was soaking wet anyway, so it didn’t matter, and he’d rather not be confused for a bandit in the dark. This raid was turning out to be just like the ones he’d occasionally participate in for various gangs back in the day. Simple, direct action. No hesitation, no regrets. He was a different man back then, too blind in his quest for glory to really understand what he was doing. He tried not to think too much about it. This time was different, however. These bandits were proven, indecent human beings, a threat to the more honest Stalkers. There would be no love lost for them when they were gunned down under tonight’s stormy sky. When they came to a stop just by the camp, he huddled down with Vasyl and Volk. “Sir,” Adrian addressed Volk, whispering in his ear, “Requesting permission to be the one to sneak around back. I can give you a quick radio report on what I find, then take ‘em out nice and quiet…” He brought out his knife and gave it a quick, skillful twirl to demonstrate his deadly proficiency. “I can even take out the one guy outside for you, or else leave him alone. Your call sir.”
POST SUMMARY: Follow raiders; Request to sneak around southern building
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Post by E-Stalin [Orthrus] on Dec 14, 2008 19:21:27 GMT -5
When the group agreed that they were ready, Volk leaned out from around the tree and took a look at the camp, some hundred meters away. "Allright, ready your gear and we move in a moment."
There was a chorus of metallic clicks under the rain as people flicked off safeties and some of them recocked the hammer, while others left it down. Volk pressed a hand to his ear, pressing the headphone against his head to hear Kochevnik's voice, "Just another moment. He's turning and...go."
Volk waved his hand once and Vasyl moved past him, and the group set off, jogging through the mud and rain. The soft splashes of their footsteps was drowned out by the endless patter of rain drops, and they closed the distance quickly. A little under thirty meters from the complex Volk tapped Vasyl on the back of the shoulder, quietly muttering, "Hold up," he turned around briefly, "Everyone down."
The entire group lay down flat on their stomachs, right in a puddle of muddy water. Volk kept his head up, looking out at the buildings, his pistol held out in front of him and out of the dirt. A light wind picked up, faded again. He heard Vasyl by his side, "So, when's your marksmen gonna take out the sentry?"
"When they have an opportunity. It might take a few minutes, just wait."
They were still lying in the mud two minutes later. Someone sniffled, water dripped down in Volk's eyes, and there was a sudden flash of white light. Lighting flared for just a second and vanished. Several seconds later the huge booming clap of thunder sounded. Instantly the bandit outside the building collapsed, his head snapping back as he fell over. At almost exactly the same moment the roof sentry spun around and dropped over the edge, hitting the ground on his side. No one heard a sound, though as the thunder faded, there might have been a dull crack to it. Volk couldn't tell. The two shots had been fired almost simultaneously, one sniper from the South and one from the North. Their job was mostly finished now. Volk got up in a crouch, "All right, lets go. And keep it quiet."
The seven Stalkers jogged smoothly over to the outside fence, keeping slightly crouched. Two guys split off to the right, while the rest moved through the open spot where there used to be a gate. The East side of the southern building had a large hole in the brick wall, and just a few feet to the side of this hole lay the corpse of the sentry. Inside the room itself were the four men, laughing and playing on a guitar. In just a few seconds two Stalkers were on the right side of the hole, with five on the left. One of the men dragged the corpse off to the side, out of the way. At no moment did anyone walk in front of the hole, and no one took a peek around the wall either. They were less than five meters away from them after all. Firelight flickered against the dim shadows. Volk turned to his side and pointed at two guys and gestured to the Northern building. They moved off without a sound, and the one with the shotgun held it out to Volk. Volk nodded and took it by the handgaurds. The guy drew his PM and moved off with the other one. Volk waited until they were right up against the wall. One of them put his hand up high, and Volk turned away. He leaned close to Adrian's ear and whispered, "Ok, get around back. My frequency is 141.92, don't call anyone else. When you get there take a look first, under no circumstances do you start shooting, all right? And stay under the windows." Volk nodded once in his only equivalent of a "good luck" statement.
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Post by Blade Knight on Dec 15, 2008 1:23:20 GMT -5
Adrian immediately adjusted his PDA’s settings to the radio frequency Volk had specified, (141.92), and slid it into his left pocket for easy access. Then he brandished his PM, brushing his thumb over the safety. He flashed Volk a reassuring you-can-count-on-me grin before ducking into the shadows. All Adrian could hear as he slid around the building was the pounding rain and occasional, muffled laughter. He found it grimly ironic that these men were so apparently carefree while unbeknownst to them, they were all moments from death. His complete focus was on only two things: his movement, and his surroundings. He stayed as low as he could, pressed against the sleek, wet brick wall. Each step was slow and deliberate, first resting only his heel into the ground, then rocking onto his toes so as to make as little noise as possible. His pistol in his right hand hovered at his hip, ready to snap up at the slightest sign of disturbance. He remained loose, but his mind was tensed to spring into action at an instant’s notice. He studied the dark surroundings, determined to notice anything and everything as he squinted through the rain. Adrian crept silently to the back of the building, looking for the best spot to peek inside undetected. When he found the most ideal location, he took a moment to listen first. Once he had finally judged the best timing, he stole his glance inside…
POST SUMMARY: Set radio frequency to 141.92; Click off sidearm safety; Sneak very cautiously to back of building; Take position at best strategic location (be it a window, doorway, hole in the wall, whatever I find); Listen first; Peek inside
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Post by Aseigan Cetanu on Dec 16, 2008 6:45:53 GMT -5
Vasyl watched Adrian make his way to the back, then turned his head to face forward. He'd seen police run raids (mostly on buildings with him inside) a good number of times, and he knew the basics. But he didn't like their approach of not shooting first and asking questions later when he saw a potentially armed enemy. He brought his gun up to in front of his chest, and held it parallel to his spine with both hands. He looked at their dismal surroundings for any strategic locations he could fall back on. Rocks and a few trees nearby were all he saw. The dark gray stone on the ground was covered in moss, and one of the trees nearby had a very large hole in it. He might be able to do something with that, if the need arrived. He then looked down and a little to the side, and glanced at the brick. It was shabby, gray, and covered in moss as well. He looked back up, and resumed position. Vasyl could tell just by the way this wall was made that the whole building could probably come down because of a couple of grenades. He wasn't about to use it as cover. He turned to Volk, and watched for the signal to go.
Watch Adrian go back; Assume police raid stance so he'd have better aim; observe his surroundings for hiding points; Wait for Volk to give the signal.
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Post by E-Stalin [Orthrus] on Dec 17, 2008 21:03:28 GMT -5
Sasha crouched low in the rain, pressed up against the brick wall in a subconscious attempt to camouflage himself. The heavy puff of mist from his breath would have been dead obvious if it weren't raining, and he was able to breath freely. He watched the South building, ready for the wave from Volk. Yurah was by his side, crouching in front of the metal door that separated them from the two men inside the North building. Sasha took a look at him, then back to the other building, watching Adrian move around the mud, his from mostly obscured by silver lines of water. At times he actually lost track of him, Adrian's outline breaking up and disappearing in a shadow before Sasha caught sight of him. All he could do from here was hold his breath.
The far side of the building had no entryway or holes in it, but there were windows. Quiet a few actually, even though the glass was missing from them. They were nothing more than empty squares in the wall, large enough for a man to vault over. The room inside was almost pitch black, the only illumination being the flickering firelight coming from around the corner. The bare outlines of sleeping bags and a few metal bunks were visible. It was impossible to tell if anyone was awake or not, but it was obvious the men were at least trying to sleep. Newcomers, they were obviously unaccustomed to waking up near the early dawn, and were still napping away at six in the morning. Bags and random items were scattered through out, faintly illuminated by the dim firelight, but still difficult to see. By the fire, someone started playing Tziganichka, and the booming roll of thunder cracked out once again. It was doubtful that they were deeply asleep with this much noise. Double-edged sword it was. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- There are six men in the back room, which is separated from the main room by nothing but an empty doorframe, located on the left side of the wall. There are two bunks, one over the other, and two guys are in them. The rest are on the floor in sleeping bags or makeshift cots. Four men are around the fire, and the remaining two men are in the North building. As of far, Adrian has been completely unnoticed.
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