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[Sosoku234]

"No. I have never worked for the bureau. Who's going to go in first?" Vadym shifts nervously in place.

[Greatness942]

Prologue: Once More Unto The Breach
While the Monster Hunters in Angel Fire were talking, a male agent with jet black hair and a creased, crisp suit walked out and cleared his throat. "Will Mr. Gulka and Mr. Munroe please come inside? Lyn Price wishes to speak to you.". He turns to the giant Pierre, and says "Mr. Angry will meet you soon, Mr. Homme."
Upon spotting the woman, Dalia attempted to stand up straighter [8], and she manages to gain a more normal human posture. Holding her hat on her head, Dalia said "Well hello there, fine lass! Would you happen to know who I am? I'm quite perplexed you see and could really use the assistance. Hopefully, it shall not be bothersome right..." The woman breathes a sigh of relief, and whispers [5] "...God, this...talks. Aweso-..." She then speaks, saying "Uh, yeah, I guess-" before she is interrupted by an observation on the part of Dalia. "Though, I think I am dribbling saliva from my lower lip!" She gives a light curtsy, saying "Oh how troubling! I was oh my word! Poor lass forgive poor Dalia for I did not mean to let myself appear with the image of perversion.".

The woman raises an eyebrow and says "P-Perversion? I guess that is a way to interpret that, sure. Uh, anyways, I'm Agent Mina Rupree. Not exactly a secret assignment, but don't you go telling anyone that, m'kay? As for who you are, I'm sorry, I don't have anything."

[Sosoku234]

"It appears we both will." Vadym stands tall and follows the Agent.

[Hibou]

Cordell turns quickly to face the agent. "Alright." he sighs. "Let's get this over with." He follows the agent inside.

[Paxiecrunchle]

I lean back and rest until something happens to me.

[AbstractTraitorHero]

Dalia's face is crestfallen at the word she brings. Bringing her forearm up and yet again wiping any foul or improper materials from her upper and lower lip. Salvia annoyingly growing in her oral cavity and causing an undue amount of frustration. Before another curtsey is presented to the fine lass.

"Oh a fifth columnist? How peculiar and the peculiarity of my own unfortunate loss of aptness of the vital adroitness of memory is not lost on my own consciousness. My own fate looks rather forlorn in a land I do not recall.

Dear columnist? May I take your hand in the facsimile of the union of mutual attachment? Otherwise straightforwardly known as friendship?

Giving a demure grin towards the columnist offering the olive branch of friendship for her earlier transgression against common decency. Continuing their speaking and letting an apologetic tone lace their wordy manner of speaking.

"My own transgressions upon you fair columnist Madame Rupe instill upon you my servitude.
Such uncouth manner of greeting thou with a drooling lip? Unseemly and improper and as such you must be recompensated by my service as your factotum!"

With another curtsey and a slight bumbling over.She approaches ready to hear the columnist response to her declarations. Clothed in the Luxurious and the expensive and beautiful the living undead Dalia. Thou of little memory was ecstatic and prepared for them.

[RoseHeart]

A man in a dark trenchcoat approaches Mr. Homme. He is Hispanic with slick black hair, in his 30's or so.

"My job is to make this really damned simple."

He stares intensely, then smiles.

"Mr. Homme I want to tell you this will be simple. But in my experience, things are never simple. But if you do it well, you will be rewarded. You also get to be a big damned hero, too."

"The objective is to take back an experimental long-range transmitter used for interstellar communication. It was seized by a gang of Orcs known as Toruk-na-Ramonatha, or 'Seas-of-Oblivion' when translated, lead by a Warchief named Krawston. It's in America, more specifically Washington D.C. In addition, it should be noted that there is a bounty on Krawston's head: person who kills him will get a large sum of money independent of Bureau payroll, as well as a new experimental gun off the books. It's known as the Tesla Pistol, and it fires concentrated electricity that uses a scale of power: weakest is as strong as a Stun Gun or Taser, while the strongest will basically kill you instantly and cook your flesh, it's such a high voltage."

"Get the devise, and if you want, kill Krawston. Any questions?"

Ned already looks disappointed that he might have to waste any more time on explaining.

[Hibou]

Cordell steps over to Pierre's side with a mildly puzzled expression. Most of the technobabble had flown miles over his head, (and he was fine with that) but there was one thing he needed clarifying.

"I've got one." he says. "What's a transmitter?"

[Paxiecrunchle]

*Pierre sits slightly straighter and looks down at the man to indicate that his attention has been gained.
''Yeos, I think I might have a few for you specifically, what makes you think I would or could sneak into a palahce like washinton? What makes you think I would support this venture at all? I don't lack funds just because I live..andy what makes you think the french will simply let go  of the ir best on demand construction worker, roibbon cutter and reluctant monument to the military vitories?''

*deeply breaths in*

"Nogh I am glad to know at least some of the orcs finally have an ingenious cheiftan, they would get along quite with some of the more wiley Americans being born abolitionists themselves, I trust the Americans with sucha decive not at all though. lastly am correct to presume your main fear is sucha device getting into the wohrld?''
...
"Nough doghnt take that as a 'no' I just never start a building without a pla.n

*He steeples his fingers together and awaits a response*

[RoseHeart]

"As you have noticed, technology has advanced rapidly recently. Aliens. We want to make sure the right people are on our side of the telephone at all times."

"You were selected for the mission because we know you've got what it takes. Prove us right. YOU ARE THE PLAN."

((Also I've told you everything Greatness gave me... so...))

[Greatness942]

((Also I've told you everything Greatness gave me... so...))

((If there's anything more you'd like to know yourself, I can PM you some more info.))

[RoseHeart]

((If they ask me anything you think I should be the one to tell them hit me up. Otherwise I assume they shouldnt know/someone else will tell them.))

"I'll let my assistant go over the details with you."

[Greatness942]

Prologue: Briefing's From Upstairs
With Pierre's base briefing finished, and the mousy man with glasses had begun approaching him, Vadym and Cordell are lead through the offices, where the advancements in technology Ned Angry mentioned come to fruition. Air conditioning passes through ventilated grates, cooling off the occupants, and the lighting feels optimal and focused. Eventually, they are lead to an office with Brooks Lyn Price's name on it. They step inside. Now surrounded by bookshelves, their attention is drawn to the man in the swiveling chair. His fingers are crossed with each other, his glasses gleam and shine while only showing glimpses of hazelnut eyes, and he is lit up by the fireplace. On one wrist is a pocketwatch, chained to his wrist to create a haphazard wristwatch. His face is completely neutral, and his voice is deadpan while carrying a glimpse of sophistication in his word choice. "So, new recruits? I've heard a lot about the two of you. Wars, crime, I've seen it all. I'm sure you've heard Mr. Angry, correct?" Standing up, illuminated by the fireplace, he says "Whether you have or not, you require details. Toruk-na-Ramonatha isn't all that heavily equipped. They pretty much took it from the Americans because of the element of surprise and a few choice stabbings. Most you'll find is handguns and shotguns they took from the guards of the place, maybe a few repeaters or full-auto rifles as you descend deeper and deeper. Otherwise, just expect the usual: axes, swords, shields, and gusto."
Outside, the glasses-wearing assistant was telling Pierre the same thing. He then said "As for that plan you mentioned? That's up to you. A good Monster Hunter prepares for everything. A great one does the job when everything goes wrong." Pausing for a moment, he eventually makes a squeak and says "Well, that's what Mr. Angry says, anyway. Good luck, sir."
With a crestfallen look on her face, Dalia wipes away any remaining, offending spittle before curtseying again. "Oh a fifth columnist? How peculiar and the peculiarity of my own unfortunate loss of aptness of the vital adroitness of memory is not lost on my own consciousness. My own fate looks rather forlorn in a land I do not recall. Dear columnist? May I take your hand in the facsimile of the union of mutual attachment? Otherwise straightforwardly known as friendship?" she spews out, a polite smirk made, or at least attempted, on her face. At that, Agent Rupree blushes and says "I-I, erm, yeah, sure. Sounds great?" Dalia stands on her feet and says "My own transgressions upon you fair columnist Madame Rupe instill upon you my servitude. Such uncouth manner of greeting thou with a drooling lip? Unseemly and improper and as such you must be recompensated by my service as your factotum!" At this, Agent Rupree raises her hands, and tries to say "No, no, not nece-", before stopping. With a groan, she instead responds "Agh, screw it. Without Agent Iscariot around, this place gets boring. Alrighty, then. Follow me." Before she can even turn, however, Agent Rupree has one question: "Hey, uh, Miss...Zombie? Uh, if that's not offensive, I mean...forget it, why are you in the blistering cold of Northern Brittania, anyway? Did you live here? Or, do you live here, I suppose?"

[AbstractTraitorHero]

Bewilderment crossing her physiognomies faltering cracked lenses being rectified pushed upwards to rest on the ridge of her brow. Phalanges trembling from such a directed endeavor.

A glower of sorts quickly taking precedence seemingly finding fault in such a term perhaps? Hand rising unrefined and voice letting out as a quiver. Inflamed by such tactless scattiness.

"My Appellation! The term of my designation is Dalia! As I retain thy name Dalia and it was expounded to you.

Scattiness is unbecoming!"

Arms forming as a junction together commonly similar to pouting almost. One could almost see Dalia's head ornament wither. Before there features went affright.

A curtsy finding itself being performed quickly. A mournful tone entering the cadavers speech. Seemingly attempting to rectify an immediate dastardly undertaking.

"I have committed a fallacy! Rendering forth a stain upon this fifth columnists honor! When thy own memory is forfeit and misbegotten and muddled! Scatterbrained is henceforth withdrawn as a stain on your integrity.

For one in a shattered house should not throw boulders.
I am deeply penitent and shall bring forth apology henceforth immediately."

Bumbling forward arms moving to wrap around the dear columnist tightly and rigidly. Rigor mortis all too relevant to their handhold upon them. One may think this could be called an embrace?

But nonetheless, they bring forth a solution to the question that was given to dear Dalia. Not dillydallying any further. Well beyond what one's eloquence and insistence on worldliness allowed.

"My residence is as of my own knowledge not here. My origin remains shrouded and unknown to my own mind. This cadaver alive and well is unfortunately oblivious to their homeland."

Forthright seemingly snuggled within...the bosom of the operative. The roguish grin and the illumination of the stone within her pocket obvious. The tiny cadaver wreathed in finery seems to quite relish their locality.

Perhaps a charade was in play or perhaps merely Dalia was one was merely enjoying the heat and closeness of the living. A tinder and a lighter of the fires of friendship alight.

Dead eyes alight and welcoming.

If the columnist wished for interesting. Then thou may have gotten what they wished.

[Hibou]

Cordell scratches his chin, considering what the man was saying. "Nothing good ever happens in DC." he mumbles. He takes in a breath and says more clearly, "Well, sir, you said that these orcs with the Oblivion gang are equipped with firearms. And-" he looks over to his taller companion "-with all due respect-" and then back to Price "-we're three men. Are we going to get access to any, uh, heavier ordinance than what we've already got?"

He sets one hand on his hip and the other on his dagger's sheath and watches Price with an expression of mild interest.