Last train out-open

The country of Bosha is in civil war. The Eastern part of the Bosha is bordered by a large sea and has the only port in the country, Trony. The Western part of the country is rich with raw materials that nieghboring countries want. Trade was balanced at one time, with the Western part of the country trading over land routes and the Eastern section trading by sea. Over time the west stopped sending trade goods to the east. The west got richer and looked down on the east. In fustration the now hungry and desperate east demanded trade, and the west refused. War broke out. Eastern forces crossed a river boundary and attacked three towns. The Eastern forces held the towns hostage and then tryed to annex them. Western forces pushed the eastern forces out of the three towns and thrusted deep into Eastern territory. Western forces now have the Eastern Capital almost surrounded. It is exspected that the city's last link, the rail line to Trony will be cut by morning. The last train out will be at midnight. Will you be on it?

What I'm looking for is players that will be on the train. Back stories are fine, bios welcomed but not needed. Play any part, train crew, deserting soldier, spy, defector, refugee, news reporter.

I am playing Mike Trailer IGNS (Inter Global News Service) I have been covering the war from the side of the East. And yes I will be on the last train out!

Rom Tephov Boshian Mafia Godfather (think Russian mob not Italian mob)

Rom emerges from an alley across from the train station. He is a tall, slim man in his early fifties with short cropped mostly dark hair. The military greatcoat he wears looks old and shabby, being belted with a piece of rope adds to a generally poor image. A black fedora covers and shadows most of his face. In his hands are two large battered suitcases.

As Rom joins the throng attempting to pass the gates, two large men begin to push through the crowd. Rom slips along behind them keeping his head down. At the head of the line the two gorillas disappear into the crowd. Rom shows his ticket to the guard at the ticket style.

The guard takes the ticket to punch it and looks at the back of Rom's hand. Several tattoos are apparent. He almost drops the ticket punch and raises his eyes to look at Rom's face. The whites of his eyes show large and the punch shakes in his hand.

Rom lifts his head and looks the guard in the eye.

Immediately the guard looks down. He punches Rom's ticket and hands it back, all the time not meeting his look. He steps aside politely.

Rom boards the train via the lower class cars but moves forward to first class through the center aisle. Finding his assigned compartment, he enters and locks the door behind him. The two suitcases go immediately into the top bunk. They appear to be quite heavy. He draws down the window shade.

Untying the rope around his waist allows the pair of AKS-74U Russian auto carbines to swing loose on their slings. Heavy inner pockets are stuffed with magazines. A massive handgun can be seen in a shoulder holster. Shrugging off the heavy coat Rom lays it on the table. He places the machineguns on the table. Reaching behind him he draws a Makarov semi auto pistol which he puts under his pillow. The clip on holster and 5 spare mags go with the other guns. Reaching down he adjusts the strap on his backup piece in an ankle holster, a PSM .222. The large revolver revealed to be an American made Taurus Judge firing 410 shotgun shells.

Reaching in a coat pocket Rom withdraws a large hip flask. Sitting up in bed he drinks from the flask. He drinks, stares at the door and waits, one hand on the Judge.

It 23:45 just a few minutes till the last train leaves. Mike Trailer watches as the stream of passenger exit the station and find there rail car. It is a small train just six passenger cars. The black steam engine releases a cloud of steam through its relief valve overy few minutes. THe engineer and the stoker prep the engine for departure.

Mike knows he has a seat in car #4. He is just watching to see if he knows any one on this last train out!

OOC character description
Natasha Dragovich 22, 5'10 130 short red hair 32c chest
Spy for the western section of Bosha. Posing as reporter

I get on the train hoping to find out any info on the eastern part of the country and their plans. I dress in a black blouse, black pleated skirt 3 " above the knees dark brown pantyhose and 2" black heels. I hope showing off my 40" long legs will distract any men from asking too many questions about me. I get my ticket punched enter my car and sit down reading a paper plotting best spots to plants listening devices to begin my spy mission

00:01 the train start out of the station. Mike reaches car #4 just as the train the train starts to move. He thinks he spotted a woman reporter he had seen on the streets of Trinka just a few days before. She had been with another news team and they had not met. Mike is sure he had seen her some where else. He could not remember where.

Once the train begins to head off some of the passengers make their way from compartment to compartment and some head to the dining area. I head to the sinking car and take a table at one end. So I can survey the crowd for potential "targets " to plant a bug on. In my clutch purse I carry along with cash and my "fake" reporter credentials are a few microchip sized bugs and a couple of packets of a pill that can be crushed and dissolved on a drink to get info out of. I sip a glass of wine and watch as more filter in. Guys keep passing me staring at my long nylon clad legs but I try to stay focused.

When the train starts to move Rom relaxes. Getting out of the capital was imperative. Had Western forces found and caught him, he would have been executed. Under the guise of Eastern militia Rom had led his gang of twenty across the river to rape, loot and pillage. Several banks were robbed along with high end jewelers and car dealerships. All this was transported back to the East in Eastern government trucks to Trony. Over three hundred Western citizens were murdered by Rom and his gang. Women were gang raped before being killed. Whole families burnt to death in their homes.

He stows the machine pistols in the top bunk and folds and locks it away. All his handguns go with him as he leaves his compartment. With a hand on the Judge he slowly opens the door and peeks out, looking both ways. You don't live long in Rom's world with a healthy dose of paranoia.

Rom leaves the compartment car and enters the first seated passenger car, one of the gorillas from the ticket gate sits in an aisle seat. Moving down the train to the dining car, the second gorilla sits just outside also in an aisle seat. Entering the dining car Rom takes a table halfway down the car and sits with his back to the wall.

A nervous looking waiter serves him a peasant meal and leaves a bottle of vodka on the table. Rom pays with a large wad of bills. A bottle of Vodka has got very expensive in the last year. Head down, eating with gusto, washed down with vodka, Rom looks about the car from under the brim of his hat.

The tall slim redhead in the back catches his eye, if only for her beauty. Too tall and skinny for Rom's personal taste. More like a trophy whore than a proper peasant girl. But trophy whores have their uses he thinks. No one else seems noticeable. No recognizable faces. Some nervous looks from train staff and a couple of passengers but that's to be expected.

I get up from the table and walk down the corridors trying to see, by the items in each compartment , if I can tell tell who is there and if I need to plant the listening bugs to the compartment area. I see one that had slit if propaganda material for the eastern side if Bosha so I take a quick look and see no one coming and make a move to plant a bug before getting noticed.

00:10 We are clear of the station. Several small fires can be seen from the window of the train. Small building from the edge of the city remain dark. The station is out of sight now. This part of the city has not been damaged to badly. Still we move down the tracks at a nice pace.

Mike turns off the light in his cabin and opens the drape to watch the landscape go by. He looks at his watch. I think I'l go and see if there is a dining car.

Illiana swiped a well used rag over a long stem glass from behind the dining car's bar. Her hands moved without thought whisking away the water droplets still clinging to the stemware on the rack before her as she stared out the window just across the aisle. Watching the dark buildings, the occasional fire, and the remnants of her past slip by, a fine mist shrouded her normally piercing blue eyes.

A rough bump to the hip from the waiter as he came around the bar brought Illiana out of her trance, and she blinked the moisture from her eyes. Tears could wait for later. Now was the time for action. Self preservation required it.

Illiana tightened the blue scarf that covered her dark curls and straightened her apron. She moved through the car with efficiency, wiping down tables and refilling drinks as needed.

Mike moves through the train. It sways slightly at the car takes a turn a little faster then normal. He finds the dining car in the rear of the train. It is rather small. Only the waitress is there and she is whiping down the stem ware. In the good old days this would of been a fun ride to the coast. Now it is our last chance to get out of the city.

00:25 Train is on the edge of the city. Enemy troops have been reported in the area. Last word is that the track is clear. There were rumors that this is a good will gesture to let foreigners out of the city.

Mike looks through the gloom of the dining car at the waitrees." Is there anything to eat?"

Illiana's patented smile slipped slightly, and she tottered to one side grabbing the back of the nearest chair to keep her balance. She hadn't yet adjusted to the jarring rhythm of the train. Illiana murmured a quick apology to the man sitting there before moving on to the next table.

Just past the door of the car with her hands full of empty glasses, Illiana turned at the question directed her way. "Yes, sir, of course," she responded immediately, cocking her head to one side and taking him in. A reporter or journalist she would guess by the look of him. Or perhaps simply a businessman that got caught in the wrong city.

Illiana offered him a small smile and rattled off the short selection of food being prepared in the kitchen. "If you take a seat at a table, sir, I'll bring whatever you like right out."

00:27 The western part of the city has been over run. Hard fighting on the cities inner defenses is holding the eney at bay. Most phone service is out,
only two cell towers still have power and that is by generators. Most of the city is with out power.

Mike finds a table next to the window. The gloom of the night and the sudden flashes of far off light gabs his attention. "They are attacking the power station out side of the city." He pauses as he turns away from the window and looks at the woman. "I think I'll just have a glass of wine to start with." he states in a low voice. He gives her a small sad smile. " By the way, my name is Mike Trailer. I'm a reporter for Inter Global News. They blew up my office yesterday. My boss and all my friends are gone. So yeah a glass of wine, will be fine.

I plant a few of my listening devices and make it back to my compartment and look out the window seeing the scenes of battle plagued cities out the window. My heart racing at thoughts of being caught as I am pretty " new" in the spy game a few guys pass by and look in but not sure if they suspect anything or just getting a glance at my long nylon clad legs in the short pleated skirt as I sit peering out the train window.

Illiana watched the man find a table next to a window. He obviously had a lot on his mind. Of course, who on this train different? Illiana glanced about the car. There wasn't a cheery or even particularly loud conversation happening on this whole train. Hope and happiness seemed a distant thing.

"Illiana Schintz. They got my younger brother three days ago." She returned his sad smile with one of her own. "I'll get your wine, but if you needed something stronger, I wouldn't begrudge you." Illiana reached out and lightly touched his arm in sympathy before moving on.

It wasn't long before she returned with a glass of red wine and a plate with crackers and cheese. She set the glass down before him and slid the plate over as well. "It's not good to drink on an empty stomach," she said by way of explanation. "I'll be back around in a moment to see that you're doing all right." With that, she set off to make a quick sweep of the dining car.

Rom eyes clumsy waitress. His mother had curly brown hair and a blue scarf. Blue was her favourite colour. Then he sees who she is about to serve. Fucking reporters, nosey foreigners. Turning up everywhere. An IGN reporter, cameraman and their fixer lay in a shallow grave west of river from their nosiness.

He considers going back to his compartment. But he has never run from anyone. If need be one more dead body won't make a difference.

Tucking in with gusto, he relishes large portioned but simple meal. Surprisingly black bread is very good. So is vodka, which is consumed readily.

I make my way back to the dining car to see if any more "characters" look like I need to get close to them for more information. I sit at the table and make sure my short pleated skirt stays about mid thigh showing did my toned nylon clad long legs in an effort to spark some male interest and maybe have some one join me for some company.

Rom Tephov finishes eating, pushing his plate away. Leaning back he loosens his coat. The large revolver in the shoulder holster is discernable.

He watches redhead whore come back to dining car. Thoughts of bending her over table in his private sleeper compartment come to mind. It's obvious she is looking for something, displaying herself like.

Rom flags down the waitress on her way by.

OOC heading to Roms table


I enter the dining car and to further blend in I decide to look for a solo male to join them for company at their table. I think it would be a good way to use spy skills and my "charms " to learn as much as I ax about the eastern side of Bosha. I head to to a lone gentleman's table and introduce my self. " hello hun my name is Natasha is this seat taken?"

Rom looks Natasha up and down, then puts on his pleasant face. Standing up he pulls out empty chair, offering it.

"No, it is not. Please join me." he says.

Holding chair for Natasha as she sits gives Rom a chance to look over her shoulder and down her blouse. She does smell good, he thinks.

Returning to his own seat he brusquely calls for more food and drink, "Waitress, more bread and wine for the lady!"

"You were drinking wine earlier. I can get another glass and offer good Boshian vodka if you prefer?" Rom asks Natasha smiling pleasantly.

"Wine will be fine. Boshna does not know good vodka" I say with a mocking snicker. "So what us all this east west trouble I hear about" I ask him flashing a smile acting like its just a basic question. I lean back in the chair and arch back slightly. One to jut chest out to distract my table mate and also to see if any more suspicious targets lurk about that may blow my cover.

Rom thinks it will be truly a pleasure to teach this one a lesson.

"Boshian vodka is best in world," he laughs, "Perhaps you do not know how to drink it properly. Maybe I will give you lesson...in drinking good Boshian vodka."

Rom pours himself another drink. He's taken good chunk out of bottles level. Whore does have nice tits he thinks, as Natasha leans back. He wonders what colour are her undergarments? Probably doesn't wear any he thinks. Being paranoid psychopath he picks up on her drifts of attention to others in car.

"This!" he points out window as fires from capital start to lighten horizon, "This is filthy, decadent West. For many years they have denied us our share of Boshian wealth and opportunities it brings. They have isolated us and oppressed us. They look down on us. Think we a poor and weak. They have made us poor. But we are not weak. We are strong. We will show them. We will never surrender!"

"Yes westerners are weak! They will get what's coming to them". I say it with a disgusting tone in my voice hoping to cure your paranoia so my cover does not get blown. "Another drink? As we think about eastern Boshna and enjoy company on this train? So what brings you on the train? And your name?" I ask taking another sip if my drink.

Rom thinks of one hundred and fifty million US dollars worth of bearer bonds, looted from capital's various banks, in his possession. He looks Natasha in the eye.

"My name is Rom Tephov. I am in shipping export import business. And as patriot I am commander in militia." he states, "I am returning to Trony to assist in defence. And use my ships to bring in food and medical supplies. Also to evacuate young, old, sick and wounded."

Those who can pay or be used as bargaining chips in getting asylum or refugee status. Outbound they will have to share with containers of stolen luxury cars, looted artwork and other valuables. Inbound arms, ammunition and weapon systems. Western Bosha has no navy. Rom's ships must still run gauntlet of foreign ships bent on blockading Trony from just such shipments of arms.

Rom's extensive tattooing, visible on his hands and neck, identifies him as senior Boshian Mafia. He watches Natasha for any reaction to his name. It is not unknown to Boshian police forces, East and West, and to poorer class.

"Interesting story Rom. I am Natasha Dragovich and I'm a reporter trying to get scoop on the west and east battles and why the....east is superior and will win. Maybe an exclusive interview in your quarters ? Too many "spies" from filthy west here what you say?" I ask with a flirtatious grin hoping to gain his trust