Iyandalar: The metaphorical delaware
 

The early morning mists were greyish green. It was actually quite disgusting. Even just breathing was painful from the stench. A small boat slipped out from a small door in the bottom of the industrial city of Jerico.

Onboard was a small mistmatched band, about thirty shining gold guards, navigators, and a storage hold that held supplies. All of the shining gold guards were either had their guns in parade stance, or had them levelled at the mismatched bunch.

To call the area uneasy. Within about twenty minutes, the boat got clear from Jerico's industrial waster. They turned it to gas, and let the greater atmosphere deal with it.

Half consciously, a navigator called out, "Be warned. When we still used sludge disposal, some chemicals got in here and warped some of the animals within."

There was a clicking at the temple guard removed the safeties on their weapons. Their guns actually was three chainguns, all put together into one huge weapon. Needless to say, the things were nasty.

Sitting near the front, Fang wanted to vomit. To his increased sense of smell, the place reeked. There was a slight stirring in the water. A giant tentacle whipped out and grabbed one of the temple guard.

Almost instantly, the combined output of a bow, two handguns, two shotgun shells, and 29 of the massive temple guns hit it. Needless to say, it was reduced to mush, and desposited the guard back on deck.

Fang reloaded his shotgun, and got to his feet. He walked nervously to the middle. He couldn't hear or smell anything coming, so...

"How's the boat ride going for everyone so far?"

Kenyu was sick over the side of the boat. "Why am I here. I'm a Cartographer, a map maker. I don't fight."

The lightning gun in his back holster, plasma rifle in his had, of course pointing down (damn gold-ass bastards), Devin breathed in deeply, and coughed viloently for a minute. Sputtering through spit and phlegm, he spoke
Alright, smells like death, more specifically, death piled repeatedly upon itself at an industrial waste plant, just like one of the arenas back home!
he smiled slightly at the thought and turned to his hovercraft, chained down in the back, and walked over to it, poking around inside.

Bob placed one of his guns back into his jacket, not saying a thing. He was irritated enough as it was, but this was rediculous. He did what he wanted whenever he wanted to, and now he was being toyed with by a fat guy in a big throne. Why didn't he just send these guards themselves? They seemed to be able to handle a job like this with incredible ease, especially with those monsters they called guns. He really didn't feel like doing anything and was about ready to just jump off the boat to his own little doom, but decided against it with the thought of some sort of huge payment probably coming from this.

Jason sat on the ship, looking out over the water. He had never liked boats. He had never liked guards. He had never liked being taken by guards and put on a boat.

He was having a pretty shitty day.

Teh sat mindlessly drumming away as the commotion went on.

Fang stretched a bit.

"Be happy. Another day on this river, and once we're clear, we get to travel overland for about a day or two."

He put the safety onto his shotgun.

"And then we will probably have to get through one or two loyalist villages, and then fight off this guys followers, kill him, escape, get back, get paid, and get out before we break another law."

After saying that, they heard the temple guard put their safeties on. There was an awkward pause. Someone whimpered.

Micheal wimpered as he heard safeties being turned on. He had no idea where he was or what he was doing, and he was scared.

Drina sat down, nursing his wing. "....at least I got some free food outa this."

Ahead, the mists parted slightly. Their boat cruised silently along.

A small boat floated over to theirs, and one of the men onboard it called out, "'EY! What be your business in our land?"

One of the temple guard scowled, and levelled his gun. "Nothing you're worthy of hearing, scum."

The gun ripped the boat into shreds. Fang winced at this. The navigator looked a bit pale, and suddenly seemed incredibly devoted to plotting their course.

"Well, now that we've destroyed our chances of getting in normally, we'll have to go the long way."

That trigger happy guard roared, "ARE YOU SAYING WE SHOULD NOT HAVE PURGED THE UNCLEAN!?"

"Well, no since we needed them t-" the man's voice was cut off as the guard gunned him down.

Fang turned to them and said, "Listen, dudes, your puritanical fury is good and all, but at this rate you're not gonna' be any help to us. So, I think I should more or less start calling the shots."

A guard stepped forward and levelled his gun. "BY WHAT RIGHT, SINNER!?"

Fang shrugged. "The fact we're likely to all die at this rate?"

Conveniently at that moment, an arrow nailed that guard in the face. They heard a whistle.

Fang slammed down into cover and muttered, "Fuck...scouts..."

OOC: Zee boat is under attack. We must hold off the near invisible attackers until we can jump off of the boat.