OPEN THE GATES! rpg

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OPENTHEGATErpg

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#1  Edited By OPENTHEGATErpg
No Caption Provided

A background soundtrack while you read at a low volume

Woken from your sleep by serious gentlemen, then taken from your home in the middle of the night to a secret location. All on the order of a secretive loosely connected tight lipped group of government officials. So they can ask you to fulfill an extremely high paid mission that no one else could. The details when told to your face point blank make you scarcely even dare to believe it’s true.

It all sounds like some wild drunks abandoned sanity for madness, but here you are facing what these people obviously believe. You can feel the tension in the room, smell the fear, stale cigarettes intertwined with sweat & desperation from those who would ask this of you. It’s makes you pause before making too harsh a rebuttal.

In the non-descriptive room you are interviewed in, you see many recognizable men of influence & power. Some are known to you. Although it does seem strange to see them working together on a common cause. As they are supposed to be political enemies.

These tidy efficient people who stand behind the thrones of governments & deal with the every day horror committed by man behind hind closed doors. These keepers of the worlds secrets ,black librarians, clerks master spies, civil servants, all who have little humanity left within them to feel fear. Yet you take note of the panic you now see in them & that puts you on edge.

a report for you perusal

Data entry report (47-------3t/b --6)

Date ------

Witness :Phillip De la Rouege

Work History ; French foreign legion ten years, bar man, bee keeper, distillery, current occupation taxi driver

DOB: 1953 January 5th 11.24 pm Mother Janette De la Rouege/ father Jeac de le Rouege diseased

Dependents: Children three Benjamin age 30 married/ Jeannette age 26 married / Phillip jnr unmarried single parent , grand children Martinique age 5

(Statement taken from agent ---------- ---------)

“A groups of American UCLA film students arrived in France to shoot a school project about a myth called the Witch. One of the students a Eleanor Tycho Blake (18 from Denver) brought with her a family heirloom left to her by her recent deceased mother Christine Avesta Blake (died age 40) . Her mothers will stipulated that she wished the family Heirloom be immediately buried some where no one would ever find it again in concrete deep beneath the earth in some poisonous location where future construction was highly unlikely.

Instead Eleanor Tycho Blake decided to use it one last time in her student film as a prop before condemning what we now know as the Carousal the lament configuration to the pages of history & wet cement.”

The only reason that this information was even gathered was that Phillip De la Rouege learned English in the French foreign legion as a young man & spoke constantly to people in his Taxi including the students he drove from their lodgings during their film shoot. His description of the puzzle box was perfect he even at one point held it in his hand. Lucky for him he was no where near them when they opened the box. It is assumed that without a shadow of a doubt due to the horrific nature of the Carousal that the young film students are now all dead.

This has been confirmed by psychic investigation into the phenomenon. The psychic who confirmed this is now also dead agent(------ ------) suicide by(------- ------ -- --- ------- ------ ------ ------ --- ------- ----- ----- ---- --) As expected by the method the power of the Key is very detrimental to psychics. If a person has any supernatural sensitivity it would be highly inadvisable to even approach the lament configuration let alone touch it.

Of course even after hearing this you still accept their mission knowing full well that should you betray their trust, there is not a government or institution on the planet that will give you safe harbor, no bank that would not withhold your money, including all the black banks of the Camen islands..

After a fast exit by government vehicle & military escort your taken to the air port to board a private G5, where you make a list of items you will need in advance all to be provided by the hosting country. There is little information given to you on your team mates as everything is in flux nothing is constant when it comes to information

You finally arrive at your destination to greet the dawn, the jet plane landing on a field in France on makeshift airfields, along side four other planes already preparing to depart. A taxi cab picks up you & your equipment the driver a sick pale elderly grief stricken man drops you off in silence at the Museum of Rodin

The atmosphere of this place lacked for want of a better description, the vitality of life. The air itself around the Museum of Rodin smelled musty tasting of dust & rotting vegetation. It was a tiring effort to even breathe as if you were sucking in with every inhale of air the last gasp of breath that escaped the lungs of something dying.

Even by visual assessment alone it was obvious something was very wrong here in this place. Walking around what should be the beautifully designed grounds of a well respected national treasure. It soon became painfully clear as you noticed how the meticulously maintained grounds of this popular tourist attraction are vacant & going to seed like an old car left to rust in the rain. Lost without a clear function & purpose at odds with everything around it.

It is here that you see the group of fellow would be team mates arrayed around in a semi circle of what appears to be a giant metal pair of gates depicting various shapes & sizes of fantastically detailed sculpted bronze humans caught in static torture for eternity as their creator Rodin intended bereft of hope.

You approach The gate completing the half circle of people staring at the sign over the door abandon all hope ye who enter here.

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Redletter

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#2  Edited By Redletter

Red letter a small diminutive pale skinned woman of 20 approached the gate warily with her rucksack & shotgun . Carrying a Bastard sword almost as big as she was, the blades reflective shine blackened. Was also strapped on her back tightly bound by thin wire. She was dressed in armored riot gear reinforced with a Kevlar mesh at the joints.

Her helmet like her body Armour was painted mat black to ovoid tell tale shines the paint mixed with varied types of holy water collected from many of the worlds blessed shrines. The reinforced boots bore the mark of holy icons on the sole as she lifted her feet to walk. All in all she probably would of looked more fearsome if she wasn’t so short.

Strolling up to the others gathered around the gate she noticed that they were a strange group of truly bizarre individuals almost costume like in their appearance .

“ Ok, the big question is who’s stupid enough to think they can deal with the Devil” Ignoring the nonplussed looks she continued

“ I don’t care about Introduction’s or group hug’s & sh&^ , my names Red my reason for being here is none of you damn business!, as for why I’m here it‘s to get the box then piss off ” she said her voice light & high pitched yet still maintaining a sardonic dry wit.

“ just to be clear that every ones on the same page “ kneeling down adjusting her massive Bastard sword on her back to grab a hand full of decaying grass in her hand, then she looked up at the rest of the team as the yellowing grass faded to dust & blew away in the wind

“We go sneaking about like thieves in the night,,, not yelling like a drunken angry Tosser or crying like a big girls blouse about,,,, ooooh the horror!“ Standing back up she wiped the dust onto her body Armour then repeated the process while she talked

“ We nick that bleeding bloody box!! key thing sharp-ish , then high tail it using what ever means of escape is at our disposal, mission over! Done dusted Awards! Medals! & lots of stinking piles of lovely money Tax free! ” resting a hand on her hip while she spoke her riot gear now completely covered in the dust closest to the gate.

“ just one question who has the most military combat experience here, we need a team leader who doesn‘t have their head up their ass? Who won‘t get us killed but has their mind in the game when it comes to the target” Then noticing the change in mood she quickly steps back to lean against a pillar of stone. “Not that I’m putting my hand up for that job anytime soon so bloody forget it” she said backing away

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Talia Taxapora

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#3  Edited By Talia Taxapora

The smell of dust and ash filled the air; a low hum could be heard circumventing the circle.  Talia stood in front of the apocalyptic gate taking mental photographs of what she was witnessing. She had trekked deep within the mountains of Montezuma, cut paths through vast jungle and trekked across the white sands of the northern deserts. Never had she ever came across anything that looked remotely like this; it was grisly and the rather demonic nature of this expedition was actually getting her aroused.

“This is Talia day one, of our expedition begins here at this gate; it seems to be marked with hundreds of apocalyptic markings as well as biblical beast, it would seem those government officials were on to something, I hope this isn’t us helping the book of revelation come to fruition.” She said talking into her tape recorder.  Ever since her search for the Relic Stone, Talia had been in such a depression having loss most of her crew to the beast that lived in the Himalayas.  Taking a huge breath, a much needed breath at that; she wondered if this was really what she wanted to do. The thought stayed persistent for a few moments but eventually subsided, she wouldn’t have come if that was the case.

Not dressed in her trademark ball gowns, but a pair of blue denim jeans, a tank top and two huge desert eagles lying in her holsters. In her backpack she brought only three things; as many frozen dry dinners as she could get, bottles of water and an excessive amount of ammo. Turning around a heading back to the other a woman, a rather loud woman addressed them as a whole. What the woman was saying was obviously common sense to her, she wasn’t sure if it was common sense to everyone else though. It was weird that all these people here would agree to such a gruesome mission and show the slightest indication of fear.

She assumed they were all super humans, maybe but if that were the case why would she be the only one without powers? “Just one question who has the most military combat experience here, we need a team leader who doesn‘t have their head up their ass? Who won‘t get us killed but has their mind in the game when it comes to the target”

The woman continued to preach with a fiery passion. “Well then shut up” Talia finally said after the woman backed away. “You just spent the last few minutes shouting and preaching, and yelling orders at us as if we were your crew why don’t you lead, because clearly you have the qualities to do so.” Talia said placing her sunglasses on her face. Deep down she wanted to lead, but her decision making was what lead to the slaughtering of her crew. The overall atmosphere of the two women speaking out undoubtedly left those, just looking to follow asking “What happens next”. They needed a leader and the best way to find one was through stressful situations…so. Talia walked to the door ready to trek on her own, soon people would follow, soon they’d have a leader.

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Soothing_Sounds

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#4  Edited By Soothing_Sounds

Joey just didn't know how well this teamwork thing was going to workout. It was his first time doing something like this, and already there were way too many problems starting out. Some were small problems, some might possibly break apart this little grouping here. Of course he was thinking pessimistically, he should probably stop. So what if there was already a bit of antagonism in the group, so what if the group was kinda off balance.

It started decently, they all had met up with each other around the "Gates to Hell". What ever that implied didn't matter to Joey. He believed that here was an odd, suspicious phenomenon, that just seemed a tad bit scary. See, as a rastaman, he didn't believe in the afterlife, whether that afterlife be happy or scary. And as a broke rastaman, Joey felt out of place.

He had come to the meeting with a black leather jacket with ripped sleeves and a Rastafarian lion symbol on the back. It was complimented with a white tee shirt, that had the front shown through the unbuttoned jacket, as well as showing off the worn short sleeves. He had black fitted jeans, and some black timbs to complete the good looking outfit. Oh yeah, and one white ipod headphone in his ear, to accessorize a bit. Bad part about it was that the jeans, t shirt, and boots were all stolen. It's not like they should care, but he still felt out of place. Especially since his weapon of choice, a metal bat hanging at his side via a bootleg holster that he made by ripping the jeans pocket a bit, wasn't as intimidating as some of the big guns around here.

As he said, that was the first problem, a problem easily overcome since, as stated before, nobody gave a damn. The second problem was caused by two females. The first one being a teeny white girl, who basically gave them a tongue whipping. Females..., Joey thought exasperated, most have been mean to him in the past so that outburst was expected. The other one, a wee bit taller, who's race he couldn't pinpoint, of course retaliated. Once again this was expected. Joey of course didn't like the atmosphere, so he decided he was going to change it.

He was also going to change it in a basic way, by introducing himself, "Hey people." He said with an out of place smile. "I know that you might not want an introduction from me, but, uh, my name is Joey. I really wanted to be called Soothing Sounds, or any nickname you could make from that, but that's a name for people who aren't going to be working with me. You know for when I'm a hero." Changing the mood, might have been a bit more difficult than he thought, but nonetheless he had to try.

He continued smiling his goofy smile, and continued on with his introduction. " Anyways, I'm a happy guy and in case you haven't figured it out, a Rastafarian. As the little miss stated, I'm here for the money, like I'm sure most of you are. That doesn't mean I don't want a bit a recognition for doing what I'm doing, people will find out, they always seem to do so." Joey looked around to see how they were taking this info, no matter how obvious.

"As for a leader," Joey stated, still smiling. "well, I'm kind of dippy, but as a leader takes the first step towards a similar goal, so to shall the people with that same goal follow. A bit of wisdom, from a not too wise man." He turned around intending to follow the woman who was leading them, or at least him.

Before he went he turned around to say something he forgot, this time with a serious face, and even a serious tone. "Two last things i have to say. First off," He looked deep into each one of their eyes, knowing what he may say may not seem like a lot, but that it could change their fate a small amount in their adventure. "I know this may seem like a bad start as a 'team', but I know that I have each of your backs, and I hope that yall can say the same for me. Second of all," His face turned back into a grin. "whether you like introductions or not, I can't help people i don't really know, and I can't call for help if i don't know any of your names. So please introduce yourselves, because even though it might not seem like it, I'm sure we're all listening." He turned around and followed after their leader.

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Jhentoh

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#5  Edited By Jhentoh

Some people would perish the thought of sleeping under a pile of dirt. Most would find the smell reason enough not to, while others would protest due to the myriad squiggly things also sleeping in the ground. Diego Jhentoh, on a personal level, thought that sleeping anywhere was better than hiding in a mound of Grox manure while on the run from Orks. If he had not done so, then the Greenskins would have sniffed him out. At least by covering himself in sh!t, he had a chance to evade their keen sense of smell. He shuddered in his light slumber, trying to keep himself from waking up. Something was wrong.  
 
He felt the vibrations of footsteps, but he did not hear them. Insulated shoes. Government-issue. Definitely something wrong.  
 
"Diego Jhentoh?"  
 
Snapping his eyelids open, Jhentoh emerged from his rather hastily-made "bed" and patted the larger patches of dirt from his jacket. His re-breather fitted to his face, he had to pick out the soil from the eye protectors with a finger.  
 
"Come with us. We have to talk." 
 
Jhentoh looked around, counting seven men in black and white attire each with sunglasses and earpieces leading down into their coat pocket to what Jhentoh could only assume was a communication device of some kind. The moon broke out from behind cloud cover and Jhentoh froze, the group of his attackers slowly surrounding him. As if to compliment his situation, clouds once more swallowed the light of the moon and Jhentoh used this opportunity well: he bolted. Knocking two of the men aside with his desperate charging maneuver, he darted for the nearest clearing in the sparse forest area.  
 
Not knowing where he was going - and, quite frankly, not caring - Jhentoh could sense seven pairs of polished shoes running after him. They did not shout for him to stop, no calls for backup, just the steady vibrations of fourteen feet matching his marathon pace but without the luxury of a head start. Jhentoh kept his attentions forward. He was entering a populated area, domesticated. One-story houses cut off from each other by wooden fences rose in the distance. No light came from their windows. Perhaps the chase would go unnoticed?  
 
He took a flying leap over a single block of fence, but staggered on his way down and rolled. His pursuers had to climb over the obstacle, buying him valuable time. Running into the street, Jhentoh followed the cement pathway, planning to become lost in the eventual metropolis. He dared to look behind him. The group of men had come to a stop, each with their hands crossed in front of them. No emotion. Something was -  
 
... 
 
... 
 
... 
 
Hot. 
 
... 
 
... 
 
Burning corpses. 
 
... 
 
Screams. 
 
Jhentoh started awake, almost instantly going at a ninety-degree angle from his previously stone-cold asleep position. He looked around carefully. Was he back home on Holocaust? The fire and heat certainly seemed to indicate as much, but there was something far darker about the place. He felt something grab his butt and he stood up almost as quickly as he had woken up. Drawing his hellgun, he fired several frantic shots into whatever had touched him. To his shock and awe, there was nothing - the floor had shifted away into a mass of writhing hands and faces, those he had shot had withered away into nothingness. He thought he was dead for a second, cast away into the Warp for a final test to prove his worthiness to enter the halls of his forefathers. He panicked. How the feth did this happen?! He fell to the ground in a fetal position, forgetting for a moment the sensation of ethereal hands grasping his flesh.  
 
He heard a voice unlike the terrible cries of agony around him. Barking with authority, the source of the sound attracted Jhentoh. Another soldier? Please be on my side... 
 
"Just one question: who has the most military combat experience here? We need a team leader who doesn't have their head up their ass. Who won‘t get us killed but has their mind in the game when it comes to the target?” 
 
She was laughably small, but Jhentoh was not going to say or do anything that might offend someone with as big of a sword as the woman. He hugged the face of a series of boulders, peering out at intervals to catch bits and pieces of the situation at hand. Something was wrong. If this place was the Warp - or at least some version of Hell - then nothing was this simple. Almost on cue, he heard a groaning sound to his right. His heart skipped a beat as the boulder he sought shelter from looked back at him.  
 
"FETH FETH FETH FETH FETH FETH!" Jhentoh screamed, blasting the daemonic incarnation with his hellgun until the firearm started to overheat. Pressing the release valve, Jhentoh contemplated tossing a grenade at the thing for good measure.  
 
He stopped everything and held up his hands in surrender. His hellgun dangled by its power cord at his side and he did not move a muscle. If these people were daemons - or worse - they showed no sign. Jhentoh just hoped he had not just signed his own death warrant by coming out in the open. 

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SurelockeHomes

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#6  Edited By SurelockeHomes
The Alchemist brimmed with excitement as he rode in on a brand new penny-farthing bicycle, delighted that they hadn't started without him. He parked his bicycle on a nearby rack and approached the group, running frantically and almost tripping over himself. He took a deep breath, inhaling the filthy air and thought to himself, I'll really have to come back here and fix that.  He'd become accustomed to filthy air, rancid smells and the like, from his time in Manchester during the Industrial Revolution, and the chemicals he still works with on a daily basis. Even still, others who dwell in the area deserve comfortability.

 As usual, Sam was armed to the teeth. He wore his usual black shirt with black pants and black boots with steel in the toes and suspenders which holstered two 2 Mauser C96 semi-automatic pistols. Over his shirt he wore a brown trench coat, inside pockets filled with smoke and flash devices. The coat concealed an old gun attached to his wrist and a sheath containing five throwing knives on his arm. At his waist hung two shining rapiers, very well-kept. On his back he carried a rather large rucksack containing raw materials, books, a blessed dagger that he had never used, and things that went boom. You never can be too prepared , he always thought. Somehow, he still never felt prepared enough, and this was an exceptionally special occasion.

Sam observed the group silently, initially not wanting to draw attention to himself. He gave a consoling smile to Soothing Sounds, who seemed a bit out of place, and a strange glance at the man who had begun shooting for no real reason. There was the vertically challenged Red Laura, shouting abrasive remarks at the whole of them, talking of formalities and leaders. Possible Napoleon Complex. Have to look further once this is over. Never mind the fact that last time he led a group, the 16th Manchesters were wiped out, part of him wanted to lead.  Red's words seemed to set someone off; a woman whom Sam had seen whispering into a tape recorder earlier, brusquely telling the former to shut it. I like this one. She knows what she wants and doesn't dabble with the inconsequential.

Following the unknown woman, Sam smiled at the rest of the group and said "She's got the right idea. Let's go."

 Admittedly, Sam wasn't entirely sure why he was there. The quest for knowledge, an ancient and mystical object had a special allure, but the idea of a gate to Hell right there in France seemed pretty far-fetched. Coming from a centuries-old alchemist? This thought made him laugh. As he approached the gate, however, a slow pain grew in his chest, and a piercing feeling in his head. Possibility . . . of . . . the souls . . . dwelling inside me . . . reacting to the gate.  He nearly keeled over because of it, but worked to maintain his composure. He didn't want to draw any undesired attention to himself. Calming his breathing, he motioned for the others to come on and walk ahead of him. "Come on, let's not have any stragglers!"
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CurbsideProphet

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#7  Edited By CurbsideProphet
Hmph. Never thought I'd be going back there. Well, at least not willingly. Strange occurrence that anyone would go to Hell of their own volition, especially a Fallen Angel who had spent an agonizing time there before. Yet here he was, getting ready to go back. Of course, not without reason. And he wasn't alone either. An entire group had chosen to go to Hell.  Whatever could any of them really hope to gain from this? None of them really look all that extraordinary. How could they even hope to do anything. Of course, he wasn't really one to talk either, since being kicked out of Heaven had also left him powerless.

The thought of it angered him. Punished, and for something that was not entirely his fault. Tortured for years, and now he was about to go back. This almost gave him second thoughts about keeping in with the excursion, but the thought that the artifact that they were to be searching for might help him reattain his lost power gave the Fallen Angel reassurance. I'll have them to help me, to use in any way possible.

The nameless Angel was cut from his thoughts when the pint-sized woman in armour started shouting. Mostly prattle, but the last thing she mentioned before being hushed was a leader. Well, at least it'll be interesting. Not wanting to draw any attention towards himself, the Angel stayed silent and decided he would follow whoever decided to lead for however long it would be beneficial for his goals.

His long silver hair was tied back into a ponytail. He wore very light, black armour that provided some protection, but still allowed for full mobility. He wore a red coat-like garb over his torso, which was cut off at the abdomen and had another piece attached to the waist. It appeared simple enough, but it'd been blessed and provided some special protection. There was a hole from where a single black wing protruded from his back. For offense he carried a bow and arrows, and a long stick axe.

A talkative Rastaman, a lilliputian bride of Frankenstein with a big attitude, and a triggerhappy psychopath. He took a special liking to the one with the attitude. Such a queer little group, he thought, but at least things should be kept interesting. He silently followed behind the group, smiling.
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Redletter

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#8  Edited By Redletter

She was Tall beautiful confident & Intelligent. Red-letter just knew she was going to hate the bitch. "Shut Up & Lead say's you o_O,,,ok Ok ok fine FINE!! I offer my self up as Team leader until I either get voted out or f&%& up," Then shoving her way past the taller woman rudely, RedLetter Turned & faced The team arrayed before her

"Now!! OK here’s my reasons why!!! is I should NCO this mission"(non commissioned officer, a Sergeant)

"1/ By the book, not that I’m even sure any of you dangerous looking bast%$££ have even been to a library, let alone read the rules of engagement. So I'm Just going to assume nobody here knows what the hells going on" Jumping Up On a Plinth holding a bronze statue in the courtyard close to the Gate. Grabbing hold of it's bronze shield for support she slapped it hard with the other hand loudly for emphasis it rang out like a gong. "So team combat Tactics let me break it down for you in what little time we have,, can’t afford anything overly complex ,as we’ve never trained or even seen each other in action" Red using her superior strength broke the sword off the bronze statue & smacked it into the bronze shield making a much louder din then before.

"Sword & shield basics old-world style simple clean effective can’t f*&^ it up" Dropping the bent bronze sword one the ground redletter jumped down from the plinth, & started walking in between the other members. Looking up into their smug unnervingly calm face's. All the while Red was thinking not one of this lot looks in anyway disciplined or sane. Except Mr Over Eager in the Dreds dear god were going to die. "THIS IS NOT HOW THE WORLD ENDS!!" she screamed professionally making sure to put the right kind of military pitch in her voice to cause maximum discomfort

"Teams of two moving within eye sight of the other team, behind or in front, One person offensive attacking one defensive to cover the attackers movements. Your buddy in sword & shield is your best bloody friend remember it , or at the very least keep your mouth shut & your hate quiet, until we get out of HELL"

Team 1 "We start with the most powerful defensive player up front. Supported by Enhanced sense’s with offensive powers if ya got em! up front"

Team 2 "Second we need the teams escape route in the middle, partnered with a offensive & a defensive"

"Why a three team in the middle because it’s the god damn escape route that’s why"

Team 3 "Sniper taking up the rear with a heavy hitter if we have one, who can provide a secondary line of support ,& act as a shield wall if needed for injured"

" Support extras circle around as for experts with knowledge, need to know WTF! NOW!!, But don’t feel you have to bore us to death ok"

"Right sound off like you give a sh*& if you live or die you horrible looking bunch of crazy greedy scary people you,,, power skill set keep it short,Then pick a partner & try not to kill em"

"Now some one any one pick A side & OPEN THE GATE!"

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Jhentoh

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#9  Edited By Jhentoh

Jhentoh instinctively stood at attention when he heard the strange woman's voice. He kept quiet for most of her speech, but raised his hand when she asked for volunteers for an escape route. More specifically, he wanted to be in charge of running out of this place as fast as he could when things went awry - because they always did.  
 
"I nominate myself for escape route duty. Er, that is, if you don't mind, ma'am." He awkwardly pressed his fingers together in a shy little gesture.  
 
He didn't want to be here. Why the feth was he putting himself on the chopping block for these people? When a sword and shield were tossed his way, he did not see any use out of the sword that he couldn't achieve with his knife. But the shield would come in handy and he strapped it to his back. It almost looked comical, such a scrawny little soldier boy with an enormous battle shield on him - almost like a bipedal turtle. He took the hellgun back into his hands and walked over to the imposing gate next to the raven-haired girl apparently masterminding this whole fiasco. He could identify with her the most because of his military life, but she scared him worse than any Commissar. Well, perhaps that was an overstatement. Commissars are terrifying. This lady was about three-fourths as scary as a Commissar - about as scary as the average Ork Nob, which is saying something because those green brutes grow to about ten feet tall before they start asserting their dominance over the local Warboss. Needless to say, he did his best to avoid eye contact.  
 
Instead, he focused on the gate in front of him. The architecture was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Spidery constructs made out of a strange black metal (he assumed it was metal) weaved back and forth in intertwining webs. Spikes and sharpened edges were commonplace. A liquid, viscous like water and hot like fire, dribbled down the surface as if it had just rained the stuff. Jhentoh examined it closely and found that it was some kind of ethereal fluid, perhaps the essence of the endless clusters of souls. He hesitated in touching it and when he did, it hissed like a snake and started to steam. He tried pulling back his hand, but found that it was stuck. 
 
"Feth feth feth FETH FETH FETH!"  
 
He used his other hand in trying to use it as leverage, even going so far as to prop his foot on the door. Soon, he was pushing with both feet all the while supported in the air by his unnatural adhesive relationship with the gate door. He looked around, seeing if anyone was going to help him, but they all laid their hands on the construct as well without reacting in such a way. Perhaps it was merely his survival instincts kicking in, but this was the last thing he wanted to do when he woke up this morning. In fact, he did not want to do it so badly that he did not even think about it. Maybe that's why he was doing it now - he didn't take into consideration he would be opening the door to HELL.  
 
Regardless, the door swung open once all of his apparent teammates gave a little push. Maybe the master of this plane of existence had a gimmick for theatrics. Once on the other side of the doorway, Jhentoh fell flat on his back as the material released its grip on him. As he stood up, he could have sworn he heard the door laughing as it closed...AS IT CLOSED!?  
 
He panicked and tried to run outside again, but he was less than lucky. The gate closed faster than it had opened and Jhentoh crashed into it right on his face. Stumbling backwards, rubbing where his nose would be on his re-breather, Jhentoh whimpered and turned to keep pace with his teammates. He made sure to study his surroundings more than study his allies. After all, he was in charge of escape routes not socializing. But by the Navigator, this was too easy already. Something was wrong. Horribly. Horribly. Wrong. 

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OPENTHEGATErpg

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#10  Edited By OPENTHEGATErpg

The great metallic bronze doors shifted & swung open sweeping the gathered dust on the ground aside , exposing the entrance of hell on our world like a great beast opening it‘s sleeping jaws. At first all you could see was a tunnel larger & longer the the base of the marble stand the bronze door sculpture was attached to on the outside. Then on further inspection inside you see rolling motion of dark waters filling the large rectangle gap in reality, Taking a deep breath you walk through The Gate.

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Immediately a strange sensation of pins & needle ripples across your skin as you pass through the oily black tar like water. Miniature charges of lightning strikes dance across eyes as you struggle to make progress through what definitely feels like a underwater current, soaking through your cloths, but not the kind you would ever swim in by choice.

Then flashes of white light begin & end so quickly you almost think it an illusion, that is until you see the screaming faces of dead loved ones reach out to grab you in between heartbeats. Their faces flashing as the pressure of the water on you eyeballs increase's. Contorted in horror reaching desperately for you in in those momentary white flash's of light. A part of you mind still capable of rational thought, thinks that maybe it’s a sign of oxygen starvation effecting the brain, but another deeper part in your gut can feel the longing of better days now gone

In a way it feels more alive then you do, the movement of the corrupted water around you’re body poking & prodding exposed skin trying to find an open orifice to enter . As you struggle to hold your breath, all sense of direction becomes lost. You begin to think that maybe one has to actually die to get to hell, & you think that maybe you should of held out for more money.

The fear in you heart at this thought threatens to betray you, as your lungs ache with a burning pain, to breath in just one sweet breath of release. Suddenly a hand rock solid grips you with a finality that seems to drag you to hell.

Then it’s gone & you can breath in air at last ,cold,, such cold yes,, but by god it was air, regardless of the stench of dried dusty bone. They littered this gigantic dark underground cavern you know keeled in wet & tired from the ordeal. Kneeling in what seemed to actually be constructed of crushed human bone. Christ! This place it is was huge the rear walls & roof lost to the vast unfathomable distance, its bottom lined with a lake that continues & continues until it's lost in the dark.

More of the team like you struggled out of the door way collapsing on their knees choking spitting out what they can, gasping for air just like you were. Then out of the black water rectangle in the cavern wall, walks Red Letter unfazed carrying the dead body of mercenary a specialist in modern weapons or something, you forget his name. Dropping the corpse she begins securing the door way back to earth with explosives taken from the dead guys back pack. She then breaks open three flairs then throws them on the ground.

Detonation trigger now in her pocket she picks up the second back pack strapping it to her own before headed for a dock made of old faded wood on a beach of bleached white finger bones. Shouting back at the team she said casually “dry off if you want, but be ready, The ferry man waits for no one, as he’s an impatient p&^%$! ” Without another word RedLetter walked over to the edge of the dock at the caverns lake

Sitting you wonder if it was her hand that gripped your arm pulling & pushing you free of the black water. You begin to calm down at least you survived so far to carry on with the mission, to get the box to destroy it or to unravel it's secrets for your won maybe.

Without warning the dead mercenary rises up with accusing eyes of now black rippling water, then he attacks the nearest member of the team trying to wrap his hands around the persons throat with incredible strength.

“MWHUHHHT AM THISSSS,,, THISSS AM NOTHER ONESSSS” It screamed across the Caverns graveyard beech “YAAAASSSSSS BECOMES YOUISSS”

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Soothing_Sounds

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#11  Edited By Soothing_Sounds

Joey had been a bit irritaded at the little girl. It wasn't that she wasn't right, she was, it was the way she had shown her leadership. Disrespectful, rude, powerful, but in general, it felt angry. I hate anger sooooo much. Joey thought to himself. It was something that made people confused, weaker, louder, stingier, but most of all, it promoted even more hate. Joey was more into the happy feelings, and his happy mood wasn't going to be hampered by the girl. If anything, it promoted even more happiness from him. Odd yes, but that's the best counter to her rage, he was sure that at this moment, their previous leader was completely pissed off. If he could even call her that, at the moment he didn't know who was leader, and who wasn't, but he didn't honestly care. Just go with the flow Joe. He told himself.

"I'll take the back, my sound waves should be able to encircle us and give us area to counter-attack any incoming threats." Joey said with his smile. It had been a hard choice, the front would have offered more action, while the back would be a better chill spot. In the end, the back had seemed to suit him a tiny bit better, though the front would probably help the team out slightly more. He decided to help open the door with the, uh, abnormal man. He was a cool dude, at least that's what he thought, maybe it was his obvious fright of what was happening. He reminded Joey of Shaggy. At least in the way he acted. The other people, besides their two "leaders", were pretty bland, but he enjoyed their company. It could have been worse, a whole lot worse.

As they were opening the door, Joey let all who would go through, go through first. It was called being respectful and nice, something the short one would soon come to appreciate. At least he hoped she would. It was scary looking at it, and he had had a long time to look toas he was one of the last to go through. The door itself had been scary, but a wall of black goo just screamed out evil. Even still, Joey didn't consider it anything to be afraid of, at least not for a part of the afterlife. When he went in, that's when it became a different story.

It hurt Joey a lot, he remebered when his father had once repeatedly dunked him in the water of his bathtub. He had only did it like three times over Joey's childhood, but they had been really random occasions, and that's what scared him the most about it. This was more like drowning, which had never happened to Joey because he was a great swimmer, but he had a basic concept of the feeling. When he saw the faces of people long dead, he thought he should've been scared, but for some reason he wasn't. It's probably the reason why he took the mission, and why he wasn't scared originally, he just didn't believe in it. Maybe these are the people who foolishly tried to unlock the secrets of this place. oddly enough, that thought didn't scare him one bit. Joey knew his limits, he believed he could do this, and it would take a lot for that to change him.

Soon he literally tripped out of the goo. He was surprised too see most of the team up there with him. He personally felt it was luck, instead of pure skill. He wasn't surprised to see them coughing, and on their knees, as he was in the same position. He decided to get a basic view of his surrounding, bones, death, a feeling of dread. If there was a hell, he was sure that this was it. To aid in this feeling of dread, was the little one, once again speaking in her leading tone. He hadn't had a chance to view what she was doing before then, and instead was surprised by the walking beside him. He turned to the right too see one of the living dead staring him in the face, and grabbing at his neck.

The corpse was ugly, and had more of the goo, literally pouring down his face. His body and face were already decomposed. And to compliment the black goo crawling down his face, the thing had maggots dying by the handful, just dropping from his eyes, ears, and nose. No hair, and hands as rough and wrinkly as his grandfathers were. The worst thing about it was, that for such a weak, broken being, it's grip was strong. He knew, because it was trying to strangle him. it probably would've worked too, except Joey put his hands around the creatures disgusting head, trying to ignore the maggots, and used his most powerful and concentrated sound attack on its head using both hands.. This attack could probably shatter buildings, he didn't know, he didn't test it much. What he now knew was that when on the head of a dead corpse, it made that head pop like a balloon. When he did so, the head burst with black goo all over his body, and the body crumpled down. Deciding that he was done with that, Joey followed their leader to the end of the dock.