Montana, 2032

[staggerlee]

In the mountains above Havre, those of you still in the cabin sometimes hear muffled explosions through the wind. Now and then stray tracer rounds bounce in curves above the valley rim, like from a big fire spitting long sparks.

[staggerlee]

[headquarters]

Filthy scum ! We will drive them from my lands..errr... I mean our lands!!!!

[staggerlee]

At the moment, it´s debatable who´s the filthiest - whose lands it is or will be remains to be determined..

[General Pain]

[staggerlee]

A tactical nuke.. the explosion seems impossibly loud as fire engulfs the entire valley. Blowing away solid structures like leaves in the autumn wind, the wind rushes back towards the point of the flash.

Your character mumbles in his sleep. Vivid dreams of unmatched power are suddenly and rudely interrupted by a squirrel jumping across your face while making its routine run on the nuts stored in the old couch.
It seemed so real - the running engine of your command vehicle rumbling as you called in that last run on your terrified and powerless enemies..

The squirrel seems unimpressed by your might, giving you a slightly curious look before scurrying away.

[headquarters]

on that fur...
because thats the only peltz your PC will get - the ugly looking s.o.b

[headquarters]

Jah??

I buy ze tickets tody..

[staggerlee]

jaja - green lights be flashing

[staggerlee]

A strong wind makes the cabin creak, although its warm on the inside.
It would even be cosy, if it wasn´t for the bloody rags on the floor. Thurgoods pain-twisted face glistens with sweat. The raised leg casts a shadow on the wall. The bleeding is still kept in check by the tourniquet - but time is precious.

[headquarters]

get me back to town Thurgoods croaks.. Get me to the Waldham company forces lines. They have a doctor there for sure.... Use the motorski. Offer them anything. Lie.. Beg. Murder. Please.

Originally Posted by staggerlee

A strong wind makes the cabin creak, although its warm on the inside.
It would even be cosy, if it wasn´t for the bloody rags on the floor. Thurgoods pain-twisted face glistens with sweat. The raised leg casts a shadow on the wall. The bleeding is still kept in check by the tourniquet - but time is precious.

[staggerlee]

Early August, 2032

Disguised as traders, the party on long range reconaissance have ventured deep into Scientologist territory in southwestern Montana.

Broadwater county seems peaceful enough, and the weather is very pleasant. But naturally wary after a recent nightly encounter with an enemy patrol, the party takes care to stay low in the terrain - and happens to spot three vehicles of boxlike configuration with machineguns fixed to the top.

Speeding along the road south towards Townsend, they are a rare and unusual concentration of technical wealth in a world where horse-drawn plows and homemade baskets have secured life for as long as you can remember.

Bearing the black star, there is no doubt what they represent:

SeaOrg

[General Pain]

Our orders are not to engage?

[headquarters]

Originally Posted by General Pain

Our orders are not to engage?

We are on a recce mission and lighting them up will blow our cover. Stay down ..