"No way mate, you can have the room, just don't sit down whilst your in there."  He raises one finger and makes a motion like a clock hand ticking away "Tick, Tick, Tick, Boom!" then grins broadly.

Blue is 6'1 inches tall and heavily muscled, his hair has grown out of it's usual milirtary do and he has let his beard grow out.  He wears a worn Australian uniform and carries a Steyr with an M203.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:07, Tue 29 May 2007.

Snowy nods. "Yeah mate, you're right there." As the conversation wanders to recent deployments, he says "I was with UNFICYP in Cypress, nice and warm there, although occasionally just a little too warm. Lovely Greek and Turkish girls in Cypress, the locals are great when they're not shooting each other too but the beer is aweful. I was doing border interdiction, search and seizure - boarding old Mediterranean tramps crewed by local fanatics. Kinda 'lively' at times. Then I ended up with the ANZaSPN in Heidelberg and onto the 5th US Mech, which wasn't my best career choice considering."

Snowy doesn't look like he's fazed though, and continues on.



Snow grins back and says "Yeah, even a navy shower would be a marked difference from the pommy-washes I've been having." It never seems to occur to Snowy that he has to explain what he's saying.



Snowy leans back and checks his small arsenal of gear again and answers Max.

"Downriver mate, about halfway or a bit further. She's a biggun', the Vistula. The Vistula is the tenth largest river in the world, and she's a wild one. The Poles have being trying to tame her for centuries, but she's not about to be anyone's tame creek. If any of you guys have crossed her between here and a third of the way down you would have seen the big mother levees a couple of hundred metres back from the banks. We'd better keep an eye on the weather, a lot of rain would make the river a bit too interesting considering the damage the control infrastructure has taken."

"While I'm thinkin', let's get our radios on the same freek while we're here, in case our ride to the tug gets exciting"
This message was last edited by the player at 07:40, Wed 30 May 2007.

Konrad has been quietly sitting in the back of the Ural watching the conversations between his fellow travellers.

He is a fairly tall man with a lean build, dressed in Bunderswehr fatigues which are in remarkably good condition. His boots show the truth, they are intact but well worn. He wears the patch of the 6th Panzergrenadier Division. As seems fairly common with the group, Konrad is well armed, wearing a Grenadiers vest with various 40mm grenades, he carries a G36 rifle with an attached grenade launcher. His pack like the others sits at his feet.

Waiting politely for a break in the conversation he introduces himself, he speaks clear English but with a definate german accent.

"Looks like we are all shipmates for a while. I am Konrad Bayer, former soldier and now survivor" He grins but the smile does not reach his eyes

"Looking forward to travelling with you all"

He then leans back resting against the side of the truck.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:12, Tue 29 May 2007.

Tuck looks around the back of the truck as the rest of the introductions are made.  He extends a hand out to Clarence and then to Parks after he introduces himself, "Good to meet you Parks or Gunny you said right?  You can call me Tuck!  Where you two back from in the World?" he says to Milk and Parks.

"Looks like the Captain has a need for a small arsenal and personal army where he's goin' huh?  At least four grenade launchers, including mine, plus all this heavy shit here in the crates!  I've got almost a spare case of nine-milimeter with me too that I was able to 'acquire' before levaving scenic Krakow.  I'd be willin' to trade some of it or share it in small, reasonable portions if anyone needs it?  How're we looking for ammo for the grenade launchers?  That guy over there's got the Russian one which can't use our forty mike-mike's!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:24, Tue 29 May 2007.

Max acknowledges Tuck with a nod.  Max speaks a bit louder this time.
"Yeah, good point.  I thought having Russian gear was like the old 'bank card'.  Dont leave home without it, its accepted everywhere.

I got a couple of HE, a smoke, and a tank killer.."

Max speaks to noone but everyone
"Anyone seen this ship?  The Queen?

I hope its as good as advertised, and supplied as described".
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:14, Tue 29 May 2007.

Clarence smiles as the nurse introduces herself. "It's good to have a healer aboard. Be positive, by the way."He pauses for a moment, chuckling to himself as he realizes his attempt at humor has fallen flat. "It's my blood-type. Bad joke, miss. My bad."

Clarence responds to Tuck's question, "Chicago. South Side. You can survive there, you can survive anywhere."

He pats his AK while addressing Max. "I hear ya, man. Say what you will about the Russians, they make some fine weapons."

Clarence raises his voice to make himself heard over the throaty pur of the Ural's big engine, "Snowy, is it? You got a radio too? Anyone else got a radio?"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:56, Tue 29 May 2007.

"Not a bad idea Max.  There's got to be a better chance of picking up PACT gear over our NATO stuff since it's all over the country side.  Ours is too but, there's was here for the stay.  I don't have any stuff for your BG Max but, anyone with a '203' or equivalant, I got some spares myself!

As far as the ship goes, I haven't seen or heard of it before.  Must be pretty decent though if the Captain can afford to hire us and buy all of this gear to go with it!  How about you Aussie's any idea?"

John will pop his head strait when he hears a man on the truck call himself a gunny. He will look at the man to see if there is any recognition. If so, he will give a slight nod. If not, he will tilt his head back and continue to stare into space. John will listen to the group talk but won't add anything unless asked a question from the others.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:11, Wed 30 May 2007.

Wayne leans against his pack as he sits on the bed of the truck, his back toward the crew cab.  He stares out the back of the truck during the temporary stop.  Taking the stop as an opportunity to check on his cameras.  When the truck starts rolling again he puts his equipment away keeping only one camera out as he listens to the others talk.

Anneka smiled at Snowy’s response even though she had no idea what he had just said. But that was the way of the services, they all had their own terms and slang. Turning to Clarence ”Clarence please, no miss or ma’am. Just call me Anneka or goddess".” She laughed as her eye sparkled with glee. She liked the look of these men, hard professionals but they all had that special something, the way they bond under such extreme circumstances.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:05, Wed 30 May 2007.

Tucker looks over to Freeman and points to his camera(s), "So uh, you from the PR department of the new Polish travel ministry or somthing mister?"

Max grunts, laughs, but stops short.
Max looks at Tucker rather than the guy with the cameras
"... or Soldier of Fortune magazine?

Travel, see the world"

Tilts his head and puts on a smile as he places a cap back on the camera he has ready, "Something like that. Wayne Freeman, New York Times."

Wayne slings the camera and pulls a medium sized green notebook out of his satchel as he continues, "Not sure what to be called, haven't heard someone speak my name in ages."

He starts jotting down some notes in the book, "I'd say, I would make you famous, but from what I hear New York took a nuke so I doubt I have an employer anymore."

Parks nods to Anneka at his side as she introduces herself. "Sorry but before it's all over with, you'll prolly just be Doc to at least me. Old habits. Hope you're OK with that." Then he turns to Tuck. "South Texas here. Little ranch a ways outside of San Antone'."
   At the mention of radios, he takes his hand held off his web gear.
" I'd suggest we use atleast 3 Freqs.  Its fairly easy to dial in on one. Maybe one for general chatter and another for general quarters. Third reserved for any shore parties. Something like green, red and yellow channels. Suggestions?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:13, Wed 30 May 2007.

"Sounds good," answers Snowy, "and we can skip up five for an alternate if we think the other guys have their ears on. I think anything more complex than that is asking for trouble really."

Max replies to Freeman
"Well, New York may be gone ... but where we're going, there maybe a few animals.  Where's "National Geographic" based these days?"

Max hasnt been part of the conversation between Gunny and Snowy, but he butts in anyway.
"Forget the third channel, we wont need a shore party.  This ride is non-stop, I was told ..."

Max smirks.


Max kinda speaks up to noone in particular
"If we're gonna start deciding on channels and stuff, theres likely a heap of gear we could cover in terms of organising ourselves"

Max surveys each person, including "Doc", to see who's paying attention
"Our lives are gonna mostly be in each others hands.  What role we each get, how well we're organised, it's all gonna count at some point.  Radio channels maybe you can work out now, let everyone know.

But what about other stuff, do we do it while its quiet, or wait to see this boat we're getting on?

Hell, that Vasilek might not even fit onto the Good ship Lollypop yet"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:15, Wed 30 May 2007.

One occupant of the Ural's bed remains conspicuously yet to speak. Tall and wiry, he looks to be older than dirt, a scruffy-looking fossil in a black watch cap.  His "uniform" is mostly dark in color and seems largely of civilian origin.  Those items obviously military are olive drab, or various patterns of camouflage, and lack any discernible markings, rank or insignia.

The webbing, belt and suspenders worn over his flak jacket are equally nondescript, a haphazard collection of pouches cobbled together piecemeal from any number of NATO or WTO sources. The rig holding the Uzi 9mm submachinegun alongside his right flank especially seems to be homemade, if not custom tailored - perhaps by one of the many leatherworkers or other martial accessory craftsmen of the Krakow weapons bazaar.

He has been following the discussion since clearing the last checkpoint, in turn casually eyeing each other rider in silent assessment.  Occasionally, he will chuckle quietly or give a half-nod to indicate that he is actually listening and not completely lost in quiet reflection.  At some point, he produced from the sea bag at his feet a box of twelve gauge buckshot ammo and began loading rounds one by one slowly and methodically into the tubular magazine well of the Mossberg M590 shotgun cradled in his left arm.  Once fully loaded, he racks the slide to chamber a round and then slides one last one last round into the bottom of the receiver before resting the butt on the bench to his left, hand on the slide with the barrel pointed skyward.

As another lull in the conversation establishes a temporary beach head. the unshaven relic clears his throat and raises his right hand to snap a mock salute.

"Well," he declares in an accent sure to betray his Afrikanner heritage, "I am Joost.  That rhymes with 'toast' so it will be easy to recall.  I guess all the good staterooms are reserved by now, so I will just bunk in the engine room."

He reflects for a moment, then winks at the diminutive field medic seated across the bed.

"Or maybe in the sick bay?"

With that, Joost leans back and smiles to himself as he adjusts the balled up anorak he has been using as a neck pillow.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:32, Wed 30 May 2007.

When Max mentions the Vasilek, Konrad leans forward.

"Does anyone know how to use the big gun ? I imagine us infantry types can call in fire but do we have anyone who has used one before ?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:16, Wed 30 May 2007.

Sunday, October 1st, 2000 -0730hrs.
8 kilometers East of Krakow, Poland
51 F
Scattered Heavy Ground Fog, Visibility 50-200m (variable)

The big Ural continues to bump east along the pot-holed, four-lane blacktop in the direction of the ruins of Nowa Hutny. The air passing through the bed of the truck is cold and damp and the smell of wet grass is heavy in the morning air. Every now and again, the Ural passes the rust-hued husk of a military or civilian vehicle sitting forlornly where it had been shoved off the road months or years before. Heavy banks of fog hang in drainage canals and under stands of trees alongside the road. It’s decent landscape for an ambush. But, Old Adam assured you before you set out from Krakow in the pre-dawn gloaming that the ORMO routinely patrols this stretch of road and that anyways, bandits usually don’t bother to get up this early in the morning. It’s small comfort indeed. Adam’s first mate, a sour-faced Silesian by the name of Uller, is driving now, and driving recklessly, caroming through the fog, down the poorly maintained road, at nearly 50km per hour. The towed Vasilek mortar bounces and swerves precariously behind the truck. ‘Old’ Adam, your new employer, is riding shotgun in the cab.

The country surrounding you now consists of gently rolling fields of foot-high grass, glistening with condensed moisture. About 150 meters back from the road on both sides are thick walls of tall trees. The ground rises almost imperceptably to the landward side, while dropping off gradually as it nears the river which is out of view some distance behind the Southern wall of trees. The road is slightly convex and is bordered by shallow channels for drainage.

Without warning, your conversation is cut short as the Ural screeches and slides to an abrupt halt. With some effort, you manage to avoid falling over while several items of cargo slide forward along the bed. By twisting around and leaning over the railing along the sides of the truck bed, you can make out the dark shape of a seemingly intact jeep-type vehicle parked in the middle of the road about 50 meters ahead. Uller must not have seen it until just moments ago due to the heavy fog which is just now beginning to clear.

OOC: Actions?
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:36, Wed 30 May 2007.

Parks crouches low and moves to the front of the bed. Stepping on or over anything and anyone in the way. After kicking a few jumbled packs out of the corner he releases his AKR that swings to his side by it's strap and removing a spotting scope from his hip pouch. Resting his SVD into the cornerof the bed, he slowly leans or raises to bring the jeep into view. Once this is accomplished he speaks in broken Polish. "Captain? Defensive perimeter or watch and wait?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:31, Wed 30 May 2007.

Robert gets real serious at the mentione of a nuke hitting New York.  He tries to laugh it off but, sometimes the truth hurts and that is the reality of war.  "Yeah, I had heard that it got hit.  I just hope my folks either got out or, hmm, went quick.  Damn, that's a shitty thing to say ain't it?  I had heard that it was kind of like 'Escape From New York' in some places.  Not much to go back to I guess huh?  I guess we're both shit out of luck, huh reporterman?"

Tucker turns to Max quickly, "Yeah Max, don't forget meet interesting people and kill them!"

Tucker sits quietly after his quick conversation with the reporter from the N.Y. Times thinking about what had happened since he left home.  It is interrupted by the sudden stoppage of the Ural truck.  Tuck tries to get a view of what is going on as he brings his M16A2 up to a low-ready position or the best he can in the back of the truck to see exactly what is going on.  As long as he can see the vehicle, he reaches down into his MOLLE vest and pulls a HEDP grenade out and loads his M-203 launcher.  "Vehicle!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:33, Wed 30 May 2007.

John jumps into action and follows the gunny to the front of the truck. He will move to the side that the gunny is not at and set into action with his weapon at the ready.


To Gunny Parks in a low tone, " Guns to you want me to play clean up or spotter for you? I have the AKM for clean up or I can just spot- tell me what you want."

With that John goes silent waiting for the gunny's reply.......
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:34, Wed 30 May 2007.

Getting kneed a couple of times as he sat against the front part of the bed, against the cab, Wayne decides it's time to move.  He crawls out from between the Gunny and the Native American, dragging his pack as he moved.  Once out of the way of the front part of the truck he shoved his pack under a seat and slung his camera around his side.  Pulling a second camera out of the satchel he removes the cap and leans out the right hand side of the truck.  Bringing the camera up to an eye he rotates the focus band on the telefocus lens as he tries to get a look on the vehicle then slowly uses the camera to scan to the right all the way to check the rear.

Snowy grunts as Bluey's big bulk scrunches him between him and Gunny. Everyone's a bit unsure looking, Snowy included.

"Right guys, let's look like professionals. One of you infantry guys call the shots and let's form a perimeter." He shifts his grip on his M4 and puts his index finger on the trigger guard. "Tuck, how about it?"

Max is deep in his own thoughts by the time the Ural comes to a sudden stop.  Max, sitting next to the drop ramp at the rear, slides forward with momentum as everyone else does.  Its enough to jolt Max from where ever it was he had drifted.

Shouts of "Vehicle" and "... defensive perimeter" go up as the truck stops.

Max leaves his bag in the bed of the truck as he drops off the Ural with AK-74 and BG-15 in hand.

Landing in the soft, wet soil, Max hunches down, flicks the safety off and peers around the side of the Ural.

With guns trained on target from the front of the truck, Max doesn't aim his rifle along the side of the truck.  Instead, after taking a look down the road himself, he looks out across the landscape 90 degrees from his side of the truck.  Max is looking for any depressions or cover that could be used.  If firing starts, Max will wait for any return fire by his new companions before running for any cover he can find.