The Yucatán. Based on what you've seen, it's jungle slightly interupted by small encroachments of extra-rural civilization. Dirt roads that barely stay defined between the vehicles that pass. A few small villages that seem to be in a constant war to keep their land clear and free from predators. One outpost of veteran soldiers equipped with much of the best gear on the market.

It's not quite a clearing, the tallest trees are still standing and provide support for the false canopy overhead. Under the false canopy are the many tents. Barracks, mess, armory, field hospital, and thaumacenter are all represented by specialized tents.

You haven't been here long, the construction just finished less than two days ago, and you were with the second group of rebels to show.

(OOC: go to the OOC thread first, when everyone has shown I'll get this rolling)

You've had some time to get used to the camp. You know which tent is which without even trying to read the Spanish.

Your leisure activity is interrupted by one of the troops getting your attention and informing you,
[Spanglish]"The commander wants to see you."[/Spanglish]

[ooc]I don't remember enough Spanish or Spanglish to do either of those right.[/ooc]

The trooper comes across Countdown stripped to the waist, doing crunches while hanging upsidedown, supported by his calves, on a treebranch. In the absence of a gym, one must always make due. To forget about PT just because you're in the shit, is to throw discipline to the wind. He'd already inventoried his gear upon arrival, just to make sure nothing had been tampered with while he had his vehicle shipped in country. In his line of work, a certain amount of paranoia was warranted.

`I'll be to his tent in a few minutes.`

Countdown's response is in Spanish, sparing the trooper having to stretch his poor English any further. When the man departs, he finishes his set, and then catches the branch with one hand, lowering himself down. He grabs up his combat tee shirt, sliding it on, then grabs up his outer jacket, carrying it over one shoulder as he heads to the Commander's tent. He lights up a Colt on the way. Sure, it wasn't very disciplined, but this was a Mercenary job, not spec forces, the corps, not even the regular Army.

J: "Si, Senor." I finish my daily warmup, grab my coat, sling it over my shoulder and hook my chain whip to my belt. My morning workout is usually a demonstration of why you shouldn't touch me. I walk casually and confidently to the command tent and flip on astral sight.

The big shaved headed troll looked up from where he was cleaning his LMG. "Aight, friend, I'll be along shortly," he said with a nod. About time, he thought. Cracking his massive neck muscles, Lifter stood and stretched like a cat to his full eight and a half feet. Not terribly tall for a troll, he knew, but he took comfort in being as broad as a dwarf was tall. He hefted his Ares and stored it inside it's lock box in the back of the rusty MPUV he purchased a few months back. Once satisfied his personal arsenal was locked and safe, he shrugged on his jungle cam jacket and booney hat.

He stomped his way through the camp, not bothering to smile since it frightened most people, and made his way to the commanders tent, El Capitan, he though. I need to figure this language better. The tent was, as usual, to small, so he had to duck inside.

Bearclaw slept til six-thirty (a luxury he grants himself whenever he does a night patrol). Rolled out of bed and worked out for an hour, showered and shaved, and was polishing his boots from last night when Carlos enters the tent and sends him to El Capitan.
"Gracias Carlos. Estaré allí en 5 minutos."
He pulls the boot off his hand, closes the polish and slips on his other pair. Stands up, mostly, grabs his booney cap and leaves the tent. Once outside, he stretches to his full 2 meters, gives his uniform a quick once over, not pressed but it can't be helped, and heads to the tent. His rifle is slung over his back, as always, because he doesn't like to leave it laying around.

Douglas Chesterfield is not like other men, at least it's what he tells himself. From the hight of the canopy he heard his summoning to the tent. He does not enjoy staying in places with so many people, so he spent the night in the trees.

As he crawls down the bark pillar, head first, he allows his figure to come into view. A slender yet well built man with a bushy, black mustache stretching to his side burns, there is but one thing astoundingly odd about his appearance: he is wearing a dark, form-fitting suit with a cowl covering the back of his neck and top of his face. On his right shoulder is a patch depicting DaVinci's human with an red spade tattooed on his chest.

Upon reaching the ground, he makes his way confidently to the tent (that is, in such a manner to allow others to know he belongs in the camp, so they don't shoot at him). Even so, with the way he walks, one can notice he harbors a high opinion of himself.

(picture)

The command tent is lit by the glow of a simple flat screen. It shows an overhead view of some forested land. On the left edge of the screen is some less forested land, plants in straight lines, probably a farm from one of the nearby villages. The largest dirt road is clearly visible as a amber colored curve reaching the ends of the screen.

Commander Vicente Ernesto Bolivar Eloy Guillermo Domingo Pascual Joaquin de Manzanillo (there's a reason the troops just call him "Commander") is standing before the screen, you can see silhouette of a wire from behind his ear to an unseen destination in the darkness. He does not notice you at first, but soon turns and welcomes you in.

[surprisingly good English, mostly]"Oi, guerreros, welcome. I have been going over some intercepted satellite data today and saw something that would be troublesome."
The image on the screen switches to a different spot of forested land with what is probably the same road. There are no familiar landmarks, but a small bright spot on the road adjacent to a fuzzy region is immediately in the center of the screen.
"After checking some other data, we discovered that this is a resupply truck for the security outpost that services the villages northwest of here. This is an unscheduled resupply, and it's cargo is mostly heavy weaponry.

Apparently, Aztlan knows there is something here that is a new threat to them. We are unable to discern what they think the threat is. We have a day before the resupply truck arrives. If possible, I want this delivery to fail with no indications that we are here."

He stops, and a moment later adds, "One of our scouts who is undercover in the villages relayed an account of a wolf taller than a man. The story was lacking, and he was not certain if the original teller was in a proper state of mind. That villager has since been observed taking baskets of 'offerings' into the woods and returning with empty baskets."

Bearclaw stares at the display for a few seconds, then clears his throat. "So, we have two issues.

1. A supply truck that needs to be "lost".
2. Some type of were-creature or shifter or something, operating in the same area.

Let's start with 1. I don't see any type of escort, so this looks like a pretty simple job, with the right guys. We know where it is, where it's going, and have some idea of when it's going to be there. Block the road, jam radio traffic, eliminate anyone there, drive the truck back here, or into the nearest river. Or some variation. As a bonus, if we do it right, we get a bunch of heavy weapons. Viva le Revolution!

Number 2. Is this all the intel we have on our friend? Maybe this is the "threat" they are responding to?"

Trogdor gets to the command tent a little later than everyone else. He got the summons in the middle of shaving and had to finish before he could make his way to the briefing. He enters the tent, ducking his nine foot two inch high head just enough to get in, then he straightens up again.

Catching only the part about the large wolf, the Burninator searches his memory for any kind of paranormal animal that might fit the bill.

Crossing his arms, the troll stands stoically listening to the rest of the Commander's briefing, catching up on what he missed fairly quickly. Scanning the room he is impressed that the other hired guns seem professional enough. Trogdor has been in the business for many years, and he's seen all sorts of folks who called themselves mercs, these people look like they can actually do a job. But the guy in the sneak-suit looks more like a city-boy runner than a hard-as-nails jungle fighter...just have to see about him.

Lifter nods in all the right places. I his mind it was a good ambush situation. "You want us to get the truck or destroy it?" The troll says in his ever so enunciated way. "Destroying it would be easier, but if you want the weapons for yourself we can probably capture it intact. I'm not clear on this, 'New Threat' as you put it, what do you want us to do about it?"

J: As I sit there listening to the briefing and the banter of my teammates, I take the time to assense each one of them, starting with the commander. Once I have a better feel for my teammates I join in the discussion.

Looking around the room I speak, "I don't believe I have met everyone, my friends call me J, you can call me 'Ma'am.' It will be fun working with some skilled allies this time. I presume we have some detailed information about the when and where for the supply truck, but before we plan this hit I need to say one thing. Don't underestimate Aztlan and do not ever assume we know what they are planning! This may sound like paranoia, but it is always better to be careful and remember: the enemy usually has a backup plan too."

"The 'New threat' may be us. We don't know if we have been spotted yet. If the new threat is something else, it would be helpful if we knew at least as much as the Aztlan forces so it doesn't catch us by surprise. The wolf story may be completely unrelated, and may not even be true, but it is a possibility.

As for the truck, any weaponry you can take from it is a little less that needs to be smuggled in, but it is not essential. We are under almost constant satellite watch in this region, try to make the ambush subtle."

Lifter frowns a little. "Subtle is harder, much harder. Any tunnels or bridges with canopies, or heavy jungle areas it has to cross through? Any of you snipers," he says the last part looking around to his team mates.

When J introduces herself Lifter smiles a tusk full. "A pleasure to meet you ma'am, I go by Lifter." He holds out one massive hand.

J: I take his offered handshake and reply, "I don't have a gun, but I can still cause quite a bit of damage and confusion with a pair of binoculars," grinning evilly. "I say we grab a driver, blow up or sink the supply truck, interrogate the guy, destroy any 'evidence' and not worry about stealing the weapons."

Taking in the situation, moment by moment, Douglas shutters.

She's not actually going to touch that beast, is she?, he thinks to himself; that and how much he hates animals of any type, especially of the giant variety. One can never tell what the sensory limitations or motives for animals are; it always sends him the "jitters".

In any case, it is Douglas's duty as a gentleman to make an effort to keep the hand of the lady from that troll's extended clutch.

"I say, (Lifter is it?) it is a good thing I'm with you then, chum. Subtlety so happens to be my forte." he states calmly, while slowly closing in. The British accent almost drips off the middle aged voice, it's so thick. "However, I'm equally convinced you will be presented with the opportunity to show your colors as well."

[wildy OOC]I know the two of you are in close geography, but it's a lot clearer when one login is used for one character, try to keep the Douglas Chesterfield comments through the Jackzob account.

Trogdor hasn't even talked to any of them yet, but already a couple are getting on his nerves. First thing that annoys him is the other troll, Lifter. He dislikes the way that the guy over-enunciates, trying to sound like a corper or some crap like that. Trogdor's dad taught him to never be ashamed of being a troll, Trogdor doesn't need to beg for anyone's respect by trying to deny who he is. Also, the chick, J or whatever. Call her "ma'am" what the hell is that? She trying to be the leader of this outfit? Well, he'll see how she does, if she can prove she's good enough, then he'll follow her.

Trogdor gets about this far in his thinking when he recalls that this is the same kind of thinking that lost him his last couple jobs. He's always tried to be a pro, but sometimes the dickheads are just too much. Anyway, if he wants to keep eating he better not get negative towards these people, better give them a chance to grow on him. If they can be pros, then so can he.

Now in the proper mindset to meet and greet, Trogdor turns to Bearclaw and sticks out his big mitt. "Hoi Chummer! Name's Trogdor."

"That's great," Lifter says to Douglas as he shakes the offered hand gently. "I can do subtley, it's just not my specialty." He turns back to the commander, "well we have less then a day, Ja? We should get going then. Unless there is anything else we need to know?"

"There are no areas where the terrain covers the road, but cloud cover does hinder visibility. I have no further information about either of these concerns."

Bearclaw smiles and shakes Trogodor's hand "Good to meet you. I'm Bearclaw. He also shakes J's hand and says "M'lady" with a little bow.

He returns to military formality, turns to el Capitan and says "Sure you do Sir. You have lots more information. You know exactly where this picture was taken, and when. We could use a printout. You know how far away the truck was then, and have a pretty good idea where it is now. Any timetable you have helps us pintpoint an ambush location. You know that it's carrying heavy weapons, so you also know if it's carrying a squad of grunts, or just the two guys in the front. Because that would come up. This is all stuff that you know that I don't, and I need to know it.
I also need to know the strengths of this team, and who's in charge. What kind of support do we have? Can we count on artillery or medevac if we need it? How 'bout magic?
The more info we have, the more likely success is."

J: I meet Bearclaw's handshake with a firm grip, "it's just ma'am, Sir; and I won't need any protecting out there so don't worry about me," she glances at Douglas.

After Bearclaw speaks, I interject and say, "I agree with him that we need specific details, but we also need to choose a group leader for this attack to make planning easier. Any volunteers?"

Countdown reamins near the door, perhaps out of courtesy to the others because he's smoking, perhaps because it affords him an outsider's view. The mission sounds simple enough. Take out the vehicle, make it look like an accident. A well timed charge could easily fell a tree onto the target, killing the driver. He keeps that to himself a moment, listening to introductions. The only one of the group he's not sure of is the superhero wannabe. There's something imesurably odd about a guy who walks around a military camp in a getup like that. But, his employers are the same as the hero's, so Countdown keeps his thoughts to himself.

When J continues to insist on being called ma'am, however, he clears his throat. Even speaking around his Colt, Countdown's voice is perfectly clear. He doesn't speak loud, but it's enough everyone can tell he's got something to say.

`You know what someone who insists on an officer's title in the field is...`

It's obviously a question he means to answer himself. He lets it hang in the air a moment.

`They're a target. That's why you don't wear rank flash in the field. Enemy sniper's got eyes for brass, and these days they've got ears for it to. So you can insist on being called ma'am all you like, it's fine by mean. Just means I don't have to worry 'bout being a sniper's first choice for the sights.`

He takes a long draw off the Colt, and looks over the sattelite maps some more. He'll have to requisition a copy of that in Mapsoft form, for the mission.

Trogdor moves from person to person, introducing himself. He is glad when Bearclaw, and then Countdown, voice their opinions about J fancying herself a leader. Since they did it he won't have to. He is curious to see how she will react. If she's got the guts to go for it, he'll follow her...unless he finds out she's all talk.

He agrees with a few of the others about the plan. They need more info before they can start doing anything else.

J: I look each person in the eyes and speak confidently.

"Who you salute is not my concern. My concerns are not dying from poor planning and a lack of discipline. I know the best and fastest plans are created when leader decides the final plan and everyone sticks to it. I also know that many of you usually work alone. However, for this mission we need to agree to work as a team. A team is led. I am not ruling out input from the group or individual actions. I am being professional and I ask that for this specific ambush we choose a strike leader. When we return from this mission we can decide to change things."

I emphasize the last sentence, and then continue.

"If nobody wants to take control of this ambush then I volunteer my expertise and services. If anyone disagrees with this, speak now or don't complain until the mission is over."

"Sounds good to me, let's get on with the planning."

"Alright m'lady. You can be the boss. If you're half as skilled as you are pushy, we should do OK."

"Ok," Lifter says, "Let's get down to it, I am sure the commander has better things to do then listen to us talk. I have a cammo net set over my jeep that provides some shade if you guys want to plan there."

As he speaks he moves to the doorway and hold the flap open for anyone who exits.

"Aye". Bearclaw turns and follows him.

J: I don't say anything else, hopefully diffusing or delaying any tension or bad feelings directed towards me. I follow Bearclaw.

Trogdor turns to the commander before leaving the tent.

"You have anything we can take with us? Maps would be really helpful. Also, could you hook us up with someone who knows the area we'll be working in?"

Commander Vicente Ernesto Bolivar Eloy Guillermo Domingo Pascual Joaquin de Manzanillo nods at Trogdor's request. He steps over to one of the faint silhouettes of other machinery. A moment later he offers a chip to whoever will take it.

"This is a copy of all the last verified satellite intercepts for this region. If you need a solid copy, the best printers are in the thaumacenter. Our scouts are still getting familiar with the details of this region themselves. The local villagers would know it better, but we do not know which ones can be trusted."

Douglas moves to the commander to snag himself a map chip.

"Doubtless, this will prove in valuable. Now we can get our noses to the grid-stone," he says, almost as if to himself.

He then strides out of the tent to the jeep which was mentioned earlier.

The MPUV Lifter drove to the camp is parked under a generous amount of camouflage netting. Beside the truck is a bedroll and sleeping gear neatly rolled up and organized. A box of self heating rations is next to that a long with a powered cooler with bottled water. "Welcome to casa del Lifter," the troll says jokingly in his light accent.

"Before we get down to planning I think we should share specialties and inventory so we know all the tools we have to work for. Having said that, I' a heavy weapons expert. MG, AT, name it, if it's heavy I can use it. With me here I have two types of weapons, an Ares LMG with about a thousand rounds of assorted ammo, and two anti vehicle weapons. A Great Dragon ATM and a MAW. Unless we are actually going to run into tanks I would prefer to spare the GD, it has to be setup on a tripod and is pretty bulky. The MAW however is shoulder fired, and easy to reload. I have 24 rounds each, HE of course. "

When finished he grabs some water out of the cooler, he offers it to anyone who wants some, if anyone does he hands them the bottle and grabs a fresh one.

J: I speak after Lifter, "I am a shaman and I use magical illusions, deception and I commune with the spirits of nature to get what I need. I am a good scout because I move quickly and quietly. I also know a good deal about magic and magical threats. I avoid confrontation but will resort to violence when needed. When push comes to shove I can set anything on fire. I also heal my allies when they are injured. This is what I bring to the team, hopefully I will be useful. I have one question, are there any communications experts here?"

"M'lady is more than meets the eye", says Bearclaw with a slight bow.
“I’m far from an expert but I know how to operate a radio. I am a grunt. I’ve got all the skills you’d expect, and a lot of ‘ware to back it up. I’m a dead shot with my AK 98, both bullets and grenades, and very good hand to hand I know a little about demo, first aid, tactics, survival, land-nav, etc. My normal roll is point man. I’m quiet, and I can literally smell an ambush,” he taps his nose. “I was never an officer, so if you give me a map and coordinates, I can actually get there. And if you follow where I go, I can get everyone else there in one piece as well.”

Chesterfield, declines the offer of water with a wave of his hand, but ventures his own resume'.

"I am a creature of the shade, a practitioner of the clandestine arts. Can't seem to recall in recent memory a compound I couldn't enter and exit without a trace. Stealth and caution: that's my racket," he submits with a wink. "In reference to this pending mission, I'd procured a map of the target area for me wrist computer. As far as I'm concerned, the sooner someone points me in the right direction with a spot of instruction and proper lines of communication, the sooner I get paid."

"I forgot to mention, I have my own com equioment in two forms, a portable Comm 6 unit with built in encryption or if anyone has another, a BTC unit built into my helmet."

Trogdor sits down on the ground with his back to the vehicle. Accepting a bottle of whatever is being offered, he pops the top off and takes a long drink.

"Like I said in the command tent, I'm Trogdor. I can sling a spell or two, but don't count on me for any kind of heavy magical artillery, that's the kind of thing I just don't do. If you need to be extra quiet, want another layer or two of magical armor, or ya wanna leap tall buildings in a single bound, I'm your guy."

"Now let's take a look at this map. My suggestion is that we find a wooded area and blow a tree to block the road. Then we kill the people with the truck, take the crap inside, then get rid of the truck somehow."

`Said it before, call me Countdown, or if you're feeling lucky, the Count. Explosives are my primary specialty, I can also provide fire support.`

He flicks the remains of his smoke to the ground, and grinds it under a combat booted heel.

`I've got a hundred kilos of plastique in my truck, and about a dozen ways to set it off. The tree'll be easy, might be a site more effective if we blow it right as they approach though. The truck crashes, it eliminates a fair bit of our work.`

"But we're gonna have to do something with the truck, or the Azzies will know that we're here. It'll be a lot easier to move the truck if it's still working."

Trogdor glances at J, wondering when she's planning on jumping in and actually leading...she wanted the job after all.

"We've got a couple of magic types. Can't one of you pretty much do it yourself? I saw a guy ambush a tank single handed. He called up some lumpy rocky guy, and had him dig a big hole, right under the tank. The tank fell in and he covered it up. Job done. Can you do something like that?"

J: Decides to set this up as quickly as possible.
"As for the magic stuff, I summon spirits and they don't have the same skills as the rock elemental that you saw. We need to start moving now and stop that truck quickly. Here is what we do."

"Mr. Chesterfield, use your map and go to a spot on the road where the truck will pass and wait for it. When it passes send us a message so we can plan an exact interception time and place. The rest of us will take a longer route and meet farther up the road to give us time to set up the ambush. I will send a forest spirit with you to use as messenger. After the truck passes and the spirit leaves to tell us, follow the road to catch up with the main group. If you don't meet us, then rendezvous at the camp."

"Bearclaw, I want you to spend a couple minutes planning with Mr. Chesterfield where he will be and where we need to set up the ambush. I will also need you to lead our team to the appropriate spot. I also need to know if we need to take a vehicle or if we can get to the ambush spot on foot."

"Countdown, you will be in charge of placing the explosives to knock the tree down and in placing some explosives like a land mine about 100 meters each way from the tree on the road so the truck cannot escape."

"Lifter, we may need to use your vehicle to get to the place, I want you to work up a plan to hide it nearby the ambush site. I would also like you to set up on of your heavy weapons to deal with unexpected surprises."

"Trogdor, you and I will be in charge of taking out any guards or drivers with the truck. I would like to take the truck without to much damage, however, if we have to completely destroy it, we will."

"That's everything: questions, comments, suggestions, problems or anything else speak now. If nothing then let's get moving."

Thoughts swim in Doulas's mind. Mr. Chesterfield... I like that. Perhaps this God-forsake pinensula won't be so terrible after all, not when I apparently command so much respect from our fearless leader.

Douglas snaps out of his delusion take some initiative.

"Fine then, Mr. Bearclaw, I shall need to acquire a pair of binoculars, then we may depart. We may converse on the way." He states with reserved enthusiasm.

Trogdor looks at J.

"Sounds good to me, but I've told you already, I'm not much one for offensive spells. In fact, the only one I know would leave a crispy corpse on our hands. Also, I can't summon spirits out of thin air like you shamans, I need conjuration materials first, and I don't have any of those. So, I don't think I'm really the one you want trying to take out guards and drivers quickly, though I won't have a problem with them once they're out of the truck."

He looks around to see if any of the others are going to voice any problems with the woman's plan. For the most part, he can agree with it. There's just a few details he wants to iron out. He personally thinks that the others would be better suited to the jobs that J was assigning to him and herself. He wants to see if anyone feels the same way and wants to voice their opinions.

J: "Mr. Chesterfield and Bearclaw, when you have determined the best scouting spot and ambush place and have all your equipment, meet us at the north end of camp in 30 minutes. We will plan to go on foot to the ambush site so be prepared for a long trek and a long wait."

"Trogdor, we will be responsible for distracting and confusing the enemy while Bearclaw and Lifter catch them in a crossfire. Hopefully they will not know where any attack is coming from and will not be able to fight back."

"Can anybody go print out some hard copies of that map for each of us without cyberware? Any other issues or problems, let us deal with them now."

[to be read when you start on your way]
J. stops by the supply tent where a number of soldiers are working to sort the materials.
The guy with the most decoration on his shoulder grubles at the request, jacks into one of the computers, and then authorizes the gear requested.

Lifter nods at J's request. "I can set up the Ares to cover a good area, plus bring the MAW and a couple of reloads to take out any unwanted vehicles." Lifter goes to work unloading his MPUV, leaving only his Ares, and 500XX rounds in 100 round belts, the Maw and four rockets, and 5 days supply of food along with his sleeping gear.

"We should be able to us the MPUV to get us all there if needed."

Bearclaw looks over the map and photos for a likely spot. Once he works out the best location, he and "Chester" pick out a good spot for Chester to spot from. After that, they work out the best routes to both locations and from them to eachother.
"I'd like to bring up a couple of things.
First: We're probably going to need to go on foot. There's not a lot of roads here and if we're trying to be stealthy, we don't want to be on them. Besides, it's 1/3 the distance to hump overland.
Second: This Jungle is a downright scary place. I'd like to recomend not having anyone off by themselves. There's way too many awakened nasties that prey on sentient creatures, and have powers to make even the biggest and meanest defenseless. Although, if your spirit will protect Chester from notice or attack, I guess that would count as not being alone.
Other than that, I'm good. We've got routes planned, and the area as inteled out as possible without walking over it."

J: "Sounds great, good work everybody. I agree, nobody should be alone. We will be traveling on foot to the ambush site and then split into scout and ambush teams. I need either Trogdor or Bearclaw to go with Mr. Chesterfield. I would prefer it to be Trogdor and keep an experienced scout with each group. Other than that, the plan is as stands. We get to the site, set up explosives and crossfire positions, and then wait. Let's move out."

I walk to the supply tent, pick up a few things and then head to the North end of camp. I think to myself, I hope this mission goes as planned, otherwise I might have to deal with some irate mercenaries. One never knows what they will do.