Irish Town

Posts: 3 Join date: 2011-12-22

The big man was simply in no position to escape the rain of bullets that literally tore him apart. Yet this was no wild salvo of bullets fired recklessly; each shot played a role in neutralizing Goode's own fire & indeed this was extinguished with world class accuracy. This was quite literally a dissection. The first shot hit him in full stride taking his kneecap off as if a scalpel. The second hit in a fashion used by trained snipers; why hit one trget when you can hit two? One arm was all but blown off at the elbow; the second clipped higher up. He hung onto one gun but his fire set off the mark. The last round entered his head cleanly and he was all but dead when he hit the ground.

Posts: 17 Join date: 2011-11-03

Dowling hardly showed a drop of emotion, if any at all by the sudden attack. Breen just in front of him turned to accept the hit as he should. But none came close to the target. Luckily for Breen the actions of Phoenix negated any such strikes. Breen drew a gun but held his fire watching stranger get taken apart. Collins, Boland & Cahill all dropped to one knee drawing guns but they too simply watched. Dowling spoke softly in a song-like manner. & what did we learn today? Forget everybody else for a moment.... Four bloody trained, thoroughly experienced men & not one caught the latch on that door open - never mind making sure we weren't followed in the first place. I watched as but one man had the bloody sense to do what needed doing! Phoenix, many thanks.... You have more than proven your worth.

Posts: 3 Join date: 2011-12-22

*Jimmy Goode laid a bloody mess on the floor, victim of his own enotions*

Posts: 17 Join date: 2011-11-03

*This man like the other had been dealt with quite easily & with exceptional speed. Dowling knew in general this would not be the case. Killing individuals such as Shotgunn who were not combatants would be avoided as a rule, unless of course they stuck themselves in the line of fire. In such a situation anyone became an open target. Broiler Man Jimmy had made several moves that could be considered nothing short of idiocy. Tracking the crew had been intelligent but his attack was suicidal. The proper move would have been to gain backup then strike. If the man had done such they would all be dead. This led directly into his own men's sloppy conduct. Clann na nGael survived due to several crucial aspects. To begin they were exceptionally mobile, calling no place a fixed HQ. A myriad of well stocked hideouts made this easy. But what meant the most here was an element that Dowling prided himself in,namely: defense. Here he addressed the group* Gents we will never put ourselves in such a vulnerable position again.... I should not have to tell you these points but apparently the lot of you have become bloody well daft. Now listen. To start that door was not locked. But even then he could have shot through it. Imagine - just imagine - instead trying to play superman, all balled up & emotional that he had rounded up a few mates.... We'd all be bloody dead! Nobody checking our rear? No. This was bad form. Now past that we need a man watching every entry point... Stairwells, vents & the sort. A constant watch on windows.... We should be able to pinpoint signs of unfriendlies & snipe them on the ground. Escape routes must be known like the back of your hand. & as traditional, no place can be even considered a damn sight near permanent. Understand? *His question was not intended to be answered. Collins and his men went about work immediately*

Subject: Re: Irish Town Fri Dec 23, 2011 11:44 pm

Phoenix watch as the man fell to the floor lifeless. He grunted and looked over his handy work before turning to the others as Joe began to talk. Everytime Dowling mentioned the man on the floor phoenix gave a little look see and every time he looked a little more blood had seeped out in the pool that was now around his wounds.. Phoenix turned back to him just in time to hear Joe give him recognition for his kill and gave him a little nod. Then walked over to the body and gave it a light kick almost as if he was expecting something to happen. Can never be too careful.. He walked over to the window and looked out. There weren't really any infected in sight. He looked over at the others.
We should probably get rid of the body and clean up this mess. It could attract some unwanted visitors. Out there is one thing, but in here it's not safe.

Posts: 17 Join date: 2011-11-03

*Dowling looked at Phoenix with some liking; the young man was smart. This held Dowling's temper in check. Moreover in the most basic terms of troops holding a fixed position his point was quite sound. But he needed to fully grasp just how prepared they were. The body was picked up but not removed; the man was stuffed into a freezer* Paul, clear the field but nothing that will give us away. Now Phoenix.... This is how we work. Mobility is number one. We will evacuate any area; the unwillingness to retreat is not bravery it is tactically unsound. We hold no set HQ. Preparations have for this day have been underway for years. A multitude of similar sites exist. Even larger stockpiles of hardware are at our disposal; this has been the work of over a hundred years, hence the archaic yet highly useful weapons. Bomb making material... napalm. These too are not only easily made but also stored away. We are a moving force. Ideology not material possession is what makes us stable.

Age: 23 Location: unknown? Posts: 10 Join date: 2011-12-17

Vlad stumbled into Western DC a bit of a wreck, he had finally made it to where he wanted to be and as he had been about to walk into the street he'd heard gunfire. He ducked back into the alley his Sawed off shotgun at the ready his Mosin Nagant sitting next to him as he said a silent prayer to whatever powers still controlled this wretched universe. He risked poking his head around the corner just in time to see the coup de grace delivered and hear the man called Phoenix speak. 'Well this is lovely. Four trained marksmen it looks like.' Gathering up his things he decided to try and join this band. As they were the best group of marksmen he'd come across yet. Slinging his Mosin Nagant over his shoulder, he stepped from the shadows into the light. Joe would see him emerge from the shadows a good 20 yards away. They would see him and either shoot him to pieces, or talk to him. The worst thing they could do is kill him, but after a lifetime of training, death wouldn't be a bad option. So Vlad had nothing to lose. He stopped after he was sure Joe, Phoenix, or someone from that group would see him. "Hello gents. Do you mind if I join up with you?" Vlad spoke clearly and showed no fear yet he kept his hands in plain sight making damned sure not to make a threatening gesture towards this efficient killing machine.

Subject: Re: Irish Town Mon Dec 26, 2011 3:51 am

Joe Dowling wrote:

*Dowling looked at Phoenix with some liking; the young man was smart. This held Dowling's temper in check. Moreover in the most basic terms of troops holding a fixed position his point was quite sound. But he needed to fully grasp just how prepared they were. The body was picked up but not removed; the man was stuffed into a freezer* Paul, clear the field but nothing that will give us away. Now Phoenix.... This is how we work. Mobility is number one. We will evacuate any area; the unwillingness to retreat is not bravery it is tactically unsound. We hold no set HQ. Preparations have for this day have been underway for years. A multitude of similar sites exist. Even larger stockpiles of hardware are at our disposal; this has been the work of over a hundred years, hence the archaic yet highly useful weapons. Bomb making material... napalm. These too are not only easily made but also stored away. We are a moving force. Ideology not material possession is what makes us stable.

**Phoenix Nodded to Joe, looking back out the window once more before turning back.**
"Well a chara, you can count on me when such a situation arises."

Posts: 17 Join date: 2011-11-03

*Dowling nodded to Phoenix just as the stranger entered as if a living illustration of all Dowling had mentioned. Men already beginning to implement his orders now fell in line in an orderly yet tight fashion. Guns were drawn around the room as the door lock clicked shut. Dowling spoke first to Phoenix then this unknown & lastly the group as a whole. The man was calm and his hands raised but no risk was taken* phoenix a chara, have no doubt in you. Now... Who the hell are you? Is this a bloody drop in center?

Age: 23 Location: unknown? Posts: 10 Join date: 2011-12-17

The man grinned. "I am a mere traveler searching for a purpose in this life. If I die today or tomorrow it matters not." He shrugged. "Death is part of living" He then answered Joe's question. "But my name is Vlad. Now, you have two options from where I'm standing, you can either kill me, or let me join you."

Subject: Re: Irish Town Sun Jan 01, 2012 9:33 pm

**Phoenix looked the man, eyeing him up and down. He hadn't drawn his weapon.**
"Tell me friend. Are you afraid to die?"

Age: 23 Location: unknown? Posts: 10 Join date: 2011-12-17

Vlad smiled. "Most would be, myself, not as much, for the way I see it, one can't live forever, and death comes sooner or later. 'Tis but a simple part of life which cannot be avoided." He spoke not sarcastically but matter of factly. There was however a kind of cheerfulness in the way he spoke. By now he had dropped his hands to his sides. But he too refrained from making any threatening gestures.

Age: 23 Location: unknown? Posts: 10 Join date: 2011-12-17

As no one in the room was going to answer him. Vlad turned and walked out making his way back to the streets bitterly disappointed over the fact that he'd risked everything for nothing he seems.

Location: Washington, DC Posts: 5 Join date: 2011-11-14

*Paul felt as if he could see the whole entire Ashlands if only those buildings were not in his way. The young man was in a semi intact room eighty feet above a street that seemed to stretch down all of Washington. The building was full of rooms that looked like something his mentor, Joe Dowling, would have called "offices." The rooms that hadn't been destroyed or looted were small, enclosed and had sparse furnishings, Paul could only wonder at what boring lives people must have lived being in here all day. Paul however was not in one of those small rooms. Paul liked to think of himself better than someone who would have just sat in a small box all day, and therefore his perch of the day was in a room easily three times larger than most. Someone important had obviously taken this big room for themselves to command the rest of his minions throughout the day. His choice for the nicer room was not all vanity however. The room had once had floor to ceiling windows. Paul liked high rooms with windows. Paul liked to be able to see very far away while those below him did not have a clue in the world where he was. He liked the cover of the roof and walls, he liked that the whole side of the office building was covered in windows, making it harder for people below to discern his location. The office was perfect for him. Perfect.... for a sniper!*

BOOM!!!!
shiiick-CRACK!!

*The corner of Paul Dashrider's mouth twitched upwards into a smirk as the mutant far away and far below him simply exploded. One moment the creature had been walking aimlessly and then it's neck and torso dispersed into a cloud of red and other colours. The heavy fifty-caliber rounds that he used often had that end result for his targets.*

Humph.. a little low.

*Paul usually knew better than to go for the headshot. Ammo was precious when the definition of civilization was radically different then it had been; hundreds of years ago before the great war. Paul was still young though, and so when he was alone he was prone to a little.. improvisation of the rules. His job was to keep the borders of the Irish Town clear of the mutants and any other enemies and that was what he did. Just because he did not always aim for the center of mass kill shot wouldn't hurt anyone. Well.. anyone that he was protecting anyhow. Paul was still a kid by most of the other's standards. Others who were on patrol or fought in battles to secure and protect the people were much older and more experienced than he was. Paul was on the wrong side of thirty, way the wrong side, to be considered anything else than a little boy. He needed a reputation. A good one, no, a better one. A few of the old timers did recognize that Paul was a crackshot, they recognized it enough to send him out on his own on patrol duty. An older man would have been grateful, but Paul wanted more. He wanted respect and knew that the only way to earn it was to become the best. Paul wanted to be able to a bullet through a targett at a kilometers distance! Impossible so said the laughing soldiers, but Paul had a dream and he was young enough to believe that he could do it! Paul just knew that he had to keep Joe from throwing him from one of his sniper perches in frustration one day!!!*

BOOM!!!!
shiiiiiiick-CRACK!!

*Paul's boyish face hardened as another one of his fifty caliber action express rounds tore through another mutant. This one had been intent on moving towards the area dubbed as the 'Irish Town.' The stupid thing was still about 150 yards out, but it's intent was unmistakable. Unlike the last monster that he killed, this one's eyes were dead set on the border and had been moving with purpose. Paul took a deep breath to calm himself. Unlike with the last mutant, Paul had taken that shot by the book. Mutants who knew enough to know where there were targets were a danger. Paul had watched and had been patient. The day had been still so there had been little wind to factor in his shot. It had been a little dense, slowing down the shot, but not enough to really take the edge of the action express round. The bullet had made contact with the mutants torso, dead center of his being. It lay in the middle of the street now, draining. Checking the streets quickly, Paul put up his rifle and turned onto his back. The younger man had not moved for hours and his body was feeling the strain. He rubbed his eyes and twisted and pulled on his back, arms, and legs. Turning his head and looking at his rifle he smiled as it rested 'at the ready' on the floor, just out of the sunlight. There were days that he cared for that rifle better than he did his own health, but that was life for him. The smile hardened.
The Ashlands were not kind to those who were not prepared, ready, and deadly...*

Posts: 17 Join date: 2011-11-03

*Dowling glanced at Collins for but a millisecond but it was here that a millennium of prophesy would reveal itself as true. Collins quietly slipped away as attention of the other Big Four locked on Dowling. Now a part of the oral tradition told of a mortal figure who would arrive at the time of Sean Coimeádaí, Randall Flagg. This man would take his place as Ard Rí, or High King of the Ó Dubhchon. But much like the seer's vision of the latter this was often dismissed as mere tale to comfort the displaced, both child & adult equally. The mystic word here would materialized into flesh & blood. Collins returned with an item in hand. Going to one knee he stood placing the Ard Rí torc on Dowlings neck. Dowling looked around the room with his piercing glare. It was as if he were a man from a different time & universe. He spoke five words* I am An Tiarna Dubh.... *The words hung in the air. Heir apparent was one thing; this was a whole other animal. Yet Dowling had no reason to lie & more so to those knowledgeable bore all characteristics of this messiah figure not only physically but also mentally. This was indeed An Tiarna Dubh. Allowing his declaration to sink in a moment An Tiarna continued* Our ancestors saw this state of affairs coming not due to some supernatural power; they were equipped with access to information of the highest level & material resources. They had the foresight to quitely stockpile hardware of every kind in similar sites as this across the globe.... Why we even have safehouses in that mad wasteland that was formerly the welfare state they called Canada. Our culture allowed us to accumulate information via the oral tradition that is now lost to most. We are concerned with survival.... Survival of our people.... *Arm shooting to the air he screamed out a vow then relaxed still looking the men over* mag Carrthaigh Móir abú!!

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Irish Town

Irish Town

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