2014 international incidents roleplayer of the year, first knockout round
MT's highest nominatet member, Delmonte, takes on former champion New Azura in what is sure to be a true battle ofwriting skill.
New Azura:
Expressway 25 Corridor, 5 KM South of Winchester Ridge — Nuclear Attack +7 Years
There was a low, smoky haze clinging to the side of the shoulder that ran up alongside of the highway, obscuring things considerably heading down the bluff towards the valley. Courtney numbly shouldered the bag of canned goods they'd scavenged from the disused fallout shelter near Mount Logan, wondering how Timothy would take to real nourishment for a change. Canned foods were as much a luxury as chocolate and penicillin was; her son had never tasted potted meat before, and she was very much interested in the canned peaches. Someone had gone through a lot of trouble to horde, and that hard work was going to pay dividends for them, so long as the storm clouds stayed off to the west. A thunderstorm made for terrible traveling weather.
"Mom," Timothy quietly called from up ahead, pointing at a fire off in the distance, far into the valley ahead. "That fire, down in the gulch... Could that be a refugee camp down there?"
Courtney warily eyed the distant smoke, understanding at once that anyone making fire out in the open had no fear of those around them, and that could only mean trouble. "No, no I don't think so. We should probably cut north at the next safe crossing."
"Yes, ma'am."
The sun was already beginning to press on towards the far horizon, casting an ethereal glow in the direction they had meant to travel. There had been word back in Aarontown of a relative safe haven several miles beyond Winchester Ridge, but their hopes had been dashed with the sighting of the Blood Army's scouts moving along the trails heading in that direction. Most other refugees had fled north, trying to stay ahead of the hordes, but she'd taken a gamble on moving west instead, expecting the main body of the group they'd been traveling with several months prior to attract the lion's share of attention. Thus far, her gambit was paying dividends, but she had no great desire to continue westward any longer than she had to.
We'd be caught in the crossfire with the Republicans, if the Rithos didn't get us first...
Courtney sighed; they had no real alternative but to try for the border. They'd have to try and swing back to the northwest and see if they could make for one of the Mayflower bastions along the southern salient, though she wasn't even sure where to begin looking. Mayflower was something of a cryptic rumor, always just beyond the next way-station or port of call without ever making an appearance. She had no real reason to believe there was even such a group on the ground, though countless refugees from different parties had regaled her with their heroics. Learning which myths to trust in the wastes was a delicate balancing act; one that she had become quite good at over the years—a trait she was fond of having picked up.
Still, there existed a general concern over accepting any and all information that was spread through word of mouth. Especially in the hinterlands, communication was almost always anecdotal, and anything vaguely resembling official news had long since passed into memory. The borderlands were a rash mix of hearsay and rumors; some legitimate, others deadly. Following the wrong report could lead you straight into the waiting arms of Covenant raiding parties or Highland slavers, and only then if you were really lucky. She had seen enough in the last seven years—God, has it only been seven years?—to haunt every waking moment. If she could simply have one good night's sleep in a warm, comfortable bed, she could die a happy woman.
From:
Pandemonium:Cataclysms
Delmonte:
Clang.
"I do hope you understand that we didn't make this decision lightly."
Rattle. Clang. Water drips somewhere no man would ever find it. Cesare and Ludovico are in a place unfit for any Di Canossa, let alone the Doge and the Foreign Chancellor: a seedy warehouse on the lower West side of the Grand City of Delmonte. The warehouse is owned by a small fishery, a subsidiary company of Pesconnes Co., which is a much larger fishing company that is owned by the umbrella company of Regaliere Consumazzi (a company that generally produces various food-stuffs). That is owned by an off-shore shell corporation which was just purchased last year by Di Canossa Vineyards & Co.
"Won't you respond to the Doge's question, Faliere?"
The man thus addressed, kneeling on the mildewy floor as he was, was not in a good position to look at either Ludovico or Cesare, but he oozed contempt. His crimson robes of office were, by this point, entirely ruined.
"You're not scaring me." he spat, "I'm not a mere peon that you can cow into submission. I am the Vice-Chancellor of the Quality of Wines and Spirits, a Conte, and a protected man of three of the other major families. You can't touch me."
Cesare writhed.
"Clearly you think that my cousin Vincenzo is the only one who can play dirty. But I can deal with you without his help." Cesare rested one gloved hand on a dilapidated railing. "Now, inform me of how I can get my hands on the Di Azzones that plotted the veritable treason that you have initiated, or I will kill you."
Diego Faliere spat at Cesare's feet. "Go fuck yourself, Di Canossa dog. I played the game just fine and did nothing out of place until you decided to break the rules yourself. Hell, I even made a pretty good Vice-Chancellor. You broke the Pax Nobilis. You brought these things upon yourself. My living is your only chance of redemption and you know it, so you won't kill me."
Cesare stared at him and Ludovico backed away, thinking Cesare would over-react. But instead, Cesare just looked at him for a few seconds before speaking.
"Fuck you. Fuck the other families. And fuck the Peace. I'm not an old man. I have sixty years left on the Doge's chair; minimum. Our plants have already taken over the entirety of the Special Police, as you have learned tonight..." Here he nodded at the four DSP agents standing behind Faliere. "I no longer need the army; the mercenaries I've hired are more loyal anyway. So remind me of what, exactly, I need this alleged Peace for. Sure, sure, it's a tradition, and that's nice. But you know what? It's a tradition that shafts me."
Here he got quite close to Faliere.
"And you know what, all of this was just to scare you. I'll admit that. But now you've insulted me, my family, and my manhood and I just can't live that down. My only consolation will be knowing that you died a far worse death than I will. I hope you enjoy your voyage. I apologize for the bumpiness of your ride; Delmontese Rafts are notorious for the turbulence they incur en route to their destination." He waved his hands at the agents who were holding the various components of the Delmontese "Raft" in the back. They were briefly taken aback; they hadn't been expecting to actually do these things! But slowly, the one with the chain and locks moved forward and attached the chain to Faliere's shackles.
"Hah! This is quite good! You want me to beg. Maybe you'll even let me go in the water before you doubtless pull me up on a spare chain you've hidden. Quite rich."
Cesare was silent as the other end of the chain was wrapped through the empty spaces of three large cinder blocks, making a grating sound as it did so.
Faliere burst into laughter. "Good God, Cesare, are they actors? They're moving so purposefully. This is quite good. Are you going to give me my Last Rites to make me really worry? No? Probably more convincing that way, anyway, you dumb fuck. God, you're going to look so fucking stupid. If I begged now would you immediately relent or just pretend to? Did you rehearse this? It's really excellent."
Cesare just watched. He could probably still make him crack if he tried. He could probably even bribe him... Another clang.
"Uhoh!" Faliere said sarcastically with mock worry on his face. "That sounds like a grate being opened! Oh, gee, I might be about to die! I'd better fess everything up to you, huh?" Then he had another fit of laughter. "I'm so upset that you shackled my hands together so I can't wipe the tears from my eyes. This is so perfect. I won't even have to embellish it when I tell everyone at the Club tomorrow about how the Di Canossas- Oh, my, they are making quite a show of being about to push them in the water. I say, those boys look like they mean business, Cesare! Where did you get them?" His laughter became grating and incessant. Even as the cinder-blocks plunked into the water with a splash one by one and the chain began to whir after them, he kept laughing.
His cloak tore and his fingernails ripped as he clawed at the wood, still red in the face with glee. He held himself up for just a few seconds by holding his elbows against the planks near the edge of the hole in the floor, now exhausted. His laughing quieted and he looked around. Nobody was moving closer to pull him up after he inevitably plunged into the water. He didn't even see a secondary chain attached anywhere. Then he looked up at Cesare and saw his face. And then it hit him. His face went completely calm.
And then he began laughing again; more loudly than ever. He threw his head back and laughed with insane glee just before being sucked into the water in an instant. The water splashed upwards, black as coffee. As Cesare stewed over his breakfast in the Piazzo Del Toro the next morning, this is what his beverage reminded him of. Ludovico, sitting across from him, had no difficulties eating. If anything, murder apparently worked up his appetite.
From: Leo Vel Aqila
Further posts:
the burning man
Now, another first for this competition. Due to the high quality of posting on both sides, I have chosen to abstain from voting.
In just about any other pairing, Delmonte would have had my vote. Still, there's a reason I nominated her, who I consider one of the very best roleplayers in NS, so my natural choice is going to have to be 
