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 Post subject: The Journal
PostPosted: Wed Jul 22, 2015 1:47 pm 
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Stegosaurus
Stegosaurus

Joined: Sun Jul 19, 2015 3:09 pm
Posts: 51
What follows is the account of the day to day life of an InGen Operative trying to keep the peace on an island inhabited by a growing collection of also growing prehistoric creatures, a construction site for one of the less infamous dinosaur theme parks. On this island life may in time find a slightly more peaceful way.

WELCOME TO PARADISE PARK
Spoiler: show
I might change that name later


17th July
Watchtower squad spent the day building a log backstop to the compound firing range, an arduous task under the tropical sun even with the dappled shade of a stand of palms providing some relief, but with some considerable calibers used by the island's sharpshooters, a worthy one. The backstop also offered the option to dig spent rounds from the backstop with a knife to be melted down, InGen may spare no expense but moving with the times they're also quite big on recycling. It's worth noting that Watchtower squad, which I joined on my departure from scientist personal security detail, is not named for the reasons one might think. Most people assume that as sharpshooters Watchtower are named after the long shifts often spent by its members in the island's many watchtowers, rather it is named after the song penned by Dylan but infinitely improved by the contributions of Hendrix. When the task was complete instead of my usual monster .577/450 Martini Henry-Francotte sporter I tried out a package I'd received only that morning, my father's old air rifle, a Webley and Scott Jaguar just back from a good old English gunsmith after yet another rebuild. The rifle, a diminutive .177 affair was built more for a child's hands but the sentimental value made the exercise worthwhile.

18th July
Today was an unpleasantly hot and gritty one, spent on my back under one of the staff jeeps working on the brakes and a partially eaten fuel breather line. The labs have yet to establish why compsognathus sometimes chew on Rubber hoses but it is becoming something of a problem, both for their health and for the smooth running of the Island, Some are worried they'll make the transition to rubber coated cables. Having achieved this James required my assistance removing the engine from one of the supply trucks with a small crane, a task made considerably harder by the one bolt he had missed still holding the block to the bell housing. I first met him on my arrival on the island, his hut being a few doors down from mine and we became friends quickly due to our mutual interest in vehicle maintenance. I passed a quiet evening picking gravel out of my back and playing a one sided game of darts, forgoing the usual implements of the pub for an Umarex CO2 powered suppressed pistol firing small red tufted darts, less bulky than the standard Linstradt model but with slightly less range.

19th July
Very few situations spring to mind where a man might drink moscatel from a coconut in a room with ammunition cases piled in a corner and rifles lining one wall, such is the strange sight one might encounter when an ACU squad leader is off duty however. As leader of Watchtower squad I have found it's important to make the most of downtime, and aside from the calls of Parasaurs from across the valley things are peaceful this evening. This tranquil evening was marred only by the discovery that some of the heavier rifles are passing through the thinner sections of the firing range backstop, I myself found a .45/70 buried in the trunk one of my more successful coffee bushes, damn Grady making the .45/70 Government a popular round amongst some of the newer ACU men. I suppose I can hardly talk, favouring the titanic .577/450 bottlenecked rounds my countrymen fielded against the Zulus in the late 1800s. However, I take advantage of the wide bore of the Martini-Henry rifles to use custom .470 bullets instead of the usual .45 paper patched up to .468 Calibre.


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Last edited by Fenris on Wed Jan 20, 2016 5:31 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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 Post subject: Start of new story Arc.
PostPosted: Thu Jul 23, 2015 8:18 pm 
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Stegosaurus
Stegosaurus

Joined: Sun Jul 19, 2015 3:09 pm
Posts: 51
20th July
Aside from the Jeep I repaired passing InGen safety checks not a day worthy of great note. I paid a visit to Marcus, our resident Swede and head of enclosure landscaping to see about patching up my poor coffee bush, after a quick chat and a glance over his saplings and trays of seedlings I came away with a small can of organic fungicide. Marcus says traditional tree wound paints can seal in bacteria and spores and prevent the natural formation of vegetative scar tissue which properly seals the wound, on this one I trusted his wise judgement and after cleaning up the wound painted on the fungicide.

22nd July
A grey day in more ways than one, right from the start an overcast and gloomy atmosphere. I was awakened by Jani banging on my door, Usually an early knock on the door means trouble. He told me breathlessly that Shingai, one of the tame male dimorphodons that can usually be found perched on the rooftops or heavy steel beam fencing surrounding the compound had died in the night. Jani, a man of Finnish origin, is the proprietor of a surprisingly good American style diner in the centre of the compound. The dimorphodons had been something of a fixture in the compound and their popularity had lead to both being a tad plump from the scraps they were thrown and having some difficulty flying, a disability that caused them no great concern when they never left the compound. While the limp body was carried to the island's small lab at the North of the compound I went to find his brother Anders. Today for once the little Pterosaur seemed scarce and after a fruitless search I sat down on a log near the firing range and moped a bit, this didn't last long before a noise like a bad wingbeat audio file filled the air and a reddish leathery creature dropped into my lap giving me quite a start. The assailant croaked and folded his membrane thin wings, "Morning Anders" I greeted the little creature stroking his comically oversized head "Sorry about your brother", there we sat for a while, man and reptile in mutual heavy heartedness till a lab tech came to tell me the findings of the autopsy. "We got the results back on Shingai, looks like a snake got him" Well that was that I decided, I'd talk to admin about clearing the brush in and around the compound, last thing we needed was venomous snakes hanging around the place. I knew too that there was going to be some degree of discussion on what should be done with Shingai's leathery little body, most of the staff of course would want him buried with dignity but I had no doubt the lab boys would want to chop him up for the advancement of science. They had a point, aside from a certain incident We are told it's in bad taste to discuss, This poor beast was the first recently dead dimorphodon the world had seen for a long time, for now he'd be kept on ice of course.

23rd July
After the loss of one of the compound's beloved Dimorphodons I had no real urge to talk to anyone, today was spent cleaning up a compsognathus skull, the little bugger had somehow got into my hut in the night and fell victim to a thrown combat boot when it made the mistake of squeaking as it squeezed under the door. Compies are not tough little creatures and InGen issue boots are heavy beasts with toe caps and instep reinforcement, I hadn't meant to kill it but Compsognathus are trouble, no-one in their right mind would want to sleep around one. To make the most of this unfortunate booting, a skull like this would be worth a pretty penny when the island was finally announced to the world. Around midday a requisition box was pushed under my door containing extra heavy slug rounds for my .303 No4 Lee Enfield (I'm nothing if not a fan of the old English classics), stopping power makes all the difference in this industry. The afternoon was spent with a couple of other watchtower squad members cutting down weeds on the firing range and digging spent rounds out of the backstop with combat knives. After some toil a regrettably familiar alarm cry came from the bushes near the fence. Watchtower's very own heavy Connah and I raced to the source to find Anders, the surviving dimorphodon thrashing on the ground with a truly hideous beast standing over it, long hooklike fangs protruded from a slender muzzle, huge pink eyes and patchy dark skin completed the look. "Troodon, here, in daylight?" I asked, Connah just drew his Desert Eagle, "No" I replied snapping a tracking dart tag into my Umarex "we need to know where the hell it came from". The small eruption of gas sent the troodon running and caused poor Anders to flap on the ground with renewed vigour, I gathered his little body in my arms and tried to comfort him but it was clear it was too late to do more for him. It was at this morning the storm that had been gathering for the past two days broke, it would be impossible to follow the dart's weak signal in the rain.


Last edited by Fenris on Wed Jan 20, 2016 5:34 pm, edited 3 times in total.

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 Post subject: Re: The Journal
PostPosted: Thu Jul 23, 2015 9:12 pm 
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-=TresCom Website Manager=-
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Joined: Fri Jun 24, 2005 9:40 pm
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Location: Sweden
This is so awesome. Love it! :D

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"...there used to be more benches, but InGen's workers removed them during the evacuation in the name of framerate."


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 Post subject: Re: The Journal
PostPosted: Tue Jul 28, 2015 8:18 pm 
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Stegosaurus
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Joined: Sun Jul 19, 2015 3:09 pm
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Story delayed as I have a chest infection, sorry.
And Tatu you're just saying that because a named character is based on you ;P


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 Post subject: Re: The Journal
PostPosted: Tue Jul 28, 2015 9:36 pm 
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Fenris wrote:
Story delayed as I have a chest infection, sorry.
And Tatu you're just saying that because a named character is based on you ;P


You know I loved it before I became a part of it ;)

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"...there used to be more benches, but InGen's workers removed them during the evacuation in the name of framerate."


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 Post subject: Re: The Journal
PostPosted: Thu Jul 30, 2015 5:56 pm 
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Stegosaurus
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Joined: Sun Jul 19, 2015 3:09 pm
Posts: 51
24th July
The storm continued throughout the day, however by means of a low (and mildly risky) sweep by one of Ingen's Lidar survey planes retrofitted with a long range tracking reciever, we were able to narrow down the search area to the far side of the island. While the sweep was conducted a team was assembled, Connah and I from Watchtower squad were accompanied by the newest addition to the group a chap named Jacob who was, it's fair to say a subscriber to Grady's 45/70 government Ammo fanclub, with his Winchester .45 repeater. Watchtower were joined by Owen (no, not Grady) of Bloodhound squad and four of his men, a quiet bunch with between them four serious expressions, a G36C, Two MP5s and a stockless Mossberg 12 bore. Bloodhound squad are a recent addition to the island, some kind of special ops group. I'd not seen them in action up to this point despite a long running friendship with their team leader. We braved the storm and washed out roads in a small convoy consisting of my small, ageing jeep with the canopy up and following behind one of the hybrid converted Toyota landcruisers which would eventually form the backbone of the tour car fleet. We arrived after dark and had to camp out for the night in a vacant utility shed. At this point, in case this should be read someday when this island is declassified I should probably describe my colleagues in a little more detail Owen I have known the longest, since before my time on this Island even, a mighty man with his fair share of wrestling knowledge. If one were to describe him a young Jayne Cobb from firefly with nicer hair and dressed in black combat trousers and a classic black NATO "Wooly Pully" would not be an unfair description. Twin pistols hung at his sides, a .45 Colt and a second .45 bearing a small suppressor. Next Connah, a big guy who through his hobbies was more familiar with the sword than the gun when he came to the island. Not that he wasn't proficient with both, a beard blending into perpetual stubble and long dark wavy hair complete the look that he should probably be wearing plate armour rather than the squad's classic khaki uniform. Lastly Jacob, as I've said the squad new guy, younger and a little more slender than the rest of us Jacob seems to be going for the Grady look. A lever action .45 and a leather waistcoat? I remember when that was just my thing back before Grady's fame and my posting to the island. Differentiating himself a little from Grady's attire, Jacob carries a Stainless finish with black wood Lever action Winchester .45 (as similar as he could requisition to Grady's Marlin .45) and wears a black leather waistcoat with the InGen Patch and bullet loops more similar to my own. Sometimes I think his relative youth makes him a little more excitable than the group average. Lastly myself, heavyset and 6ft3 with black hair swept to one side and sideburns. Both arms bearing large pale scars from an Ex girlfriend and from an Adolescent lioness at Glen Afric, wearing the traditional khaki of the squad but with the battered and time worn ripstop Indian cotton shirt I wore during my time working in Anti-Poaching in South Africa and an old brown leather waistcoat, pockets and loops packed with the mighty .577/450 rounds of the short sporter hung across my shoulder. Of course today we were all covered with dark forest patterned rain gear and so far harder to tell apart. Owen's group looked like just about every special forces group depicted in the movies, black overalls with knee and elbow pads, flak vests and for the most part short weapons slung across their chests, oh and helmets with night vision mounts, they always seem to have those.

25th July
As we sat on crates around a workbench loaded up with mess tins and a trio of portable stoves discussing the work ahead it became clear that given the continued rain we would have to rely more on our own senses than the accuracy of any handheld tracking receiver. For Bloodhound's members this was no serious concern, they had bought quite the goody bag of scopes, binoculars and night vision devices. For our own part the other two present members of Watchtower were fairly content with night vision capable scopes and on my part a leatherbound folding brass telescope. Night vision might have been a bit overkill but in the downpour and with the heavy stormclouds overhead refusing to part any kind of light enhancing optics would be a mighty boon stalking a creature born for darkness through the dense jungle. After a search grid was agreed and storm clothing tightened around any openings. Bloodhound Squad's representatives melted into the storm and we took up our patrol threading diagonally across their paths. After a few hours I tried to radio in to Owen to see how the search was progressing, only to be greeted by static, after trying a few more times I tried the sat phone to the admin centre, again nothing. On we trudged carving three trails through the thick underbrush, glad of the storm to hide the rustle of our progress when a cry of irritation came from a particularly swampy looking stand of trees to my left, from somewhere in that stand came a wail of "my boots are filling with water." I sighed and replied "I sympathise with your plight Jacob really I do but this is a manhunt, no wait, a beasthunt I guess? And the last thing we need is the little bugger coming back and giving us a nasty nip because there's swamp in our wellies." From there the search continued quietly aside from a few more fruitless attempts to reach Bloodhound Squad on the two way radio. By this point darkness was falling and the wisdom of hunting a vicious little bleeder that is most at home under the cover of darkness began to dawn upon us. I was about voice this opinion to the other two and hope that Bloodhound had much the same idea when from the bushes and with a horrific screech streaked a pair of small mottled bodies with eyes that seemed to glow in the growing darkness. Here fortune was with us on the front of my sidearm being loaded with micro flares but less on getting the drop on our opponents. As always I had at my side the multipurpose Umarex gas pistol, loaded today with a revolving magazine of 8 tiny little chemical pellets with a red plug in each end which on contact with the air would burst into brilliant little fireballs. In the few seconds available to us I managed to put two of these tiny little stars into the face of the first troodon and thank my foresight for once again having the correct loadout for my pistol. Sadly I did not have time to repel the second terror of the night. Neither of my squadmates was close enough to react as the troodon's tiny hooklike teeth sank into my right forearm, nor did the troodon get the chance to gloat on this as without warning Owen dropped bodily onto the unsuspecting monster with a sickening crunch and before the little dinosaur had much chance to respond, with a swipe that must have called for tremendous force, he chopped the offending beast's head clean off with a wickedly sharp Fairbairn Sykes dagger. "What are the chances of that?.. And why didn't we pick it up on the tracker?" I managed after disengaging the now lifeless jaws from my arm "Pretty good" replied Owen as if he hadn't just bodyslammed and beheaded a dinosaur, "After we found the nests two of my guys stayed to watch them and we three came looking for you guys, you really do know how to be the centre of it all don't you?" "Nests?" I asked with a feeling of dread "Yes, we tried to call them in but the storm is messing with our communications gear, hoping it'll blow over by morning though." He responded scrabbling back up his tree, more like a Lizard than a man of his size. "I'd suggest if you don't want a repeat of that you chaps best join us in the boughs and we best do something about that wee nip o' yours." Black clad arms reached down for us from a low branch thick with epiphytes and hoisted us into the relative safety of a tangle of branches. "Big ask" I said through gritted teeth as a gloved hand tugged at my ragged arm "but can someone snag the damn troodon, there's going to be one hell of an investigation into this one." Before I could think too much on just how true that was two small harpoons sang past me trailing monofilament and the limp body and it's estranged head rose slowly into the foliage either side of me. "Fancy toys your squad get." I noted "At the trade-off of not being able to carry big bore rifles like yours." Owen replied. When we regrouped on a higher branch I had to ask where the body had gone and was treated to a look into a large rucksack proffered by one of Owen's men "Ew, well I hope your sandwiches weren't still in there..." "I'll requisition a new bag" came the gruff response. "I'll not ask about the head, but I'd love to see the requisitions list for next week" was Connah's contribution to the matter and with that we set off crawling through the branches. We hadn't gone far when a thunderclap rang out from behind me. "Got the little bastard." Said Connah standing on a particularly thick branch, steam curling from the barrel of his veritable hand cannon as hot steel and rain met "Con' mate" I ventured "as impressive as your affinity for killing bloodthirsty little sods is, I'd very much like to take at least one of these little horrors alive." From up ahead Owen chimed in far too cheerfully "plenty more where that came from." "Yes" I replied "you mentioned nests, just what we need, a rabble of fanged terrors breeding off our radar..." With the body of the second Troodon winched into the trees and unceremoniously stuffed into another rucksack we finally made our way to the other Bloodhound members, seated in a massive jungle tree with more gear bags stowed in the crook of a branch. After treating my bite with anti-venom, washing out the ragged holes and dressing my arm we all set to watching the happenings below. Our scent and whispers hidden by the rain we were able to get close enough to watch through assorted night vision devices as adult troodons came and went from a rusted tear in the corner of what appeared to be a large steel InGen supply crate, carrying small denizens of the undergrowth on their return, from the look of things they were feeding a small army of hatchlings. "Vile little bastards" muttered Owen. "This is exactly why I thought we were done with them after the first Nublar incident's aftermath." "We were mate." I responded dully "I'm sure control will get to the bottom of this bloody mess."

26th July
As the Night went on towards the inevitable dawn the rain abated and I tried the satellite phone twice more, on the second attempt I was greeted by the groggy sound of the head of Island Admin "Did I wake you Chris?" "Yes, what was so vital..." Good, because I've been stuck up a wet tree all night with a throbbing troodon bite watching the little buggers raise their little hellspawn!" "WHAT?" "Do us a favour dear, get a lock on my satphone and send a bloody containment team, dart guns, nets... beartraps, I don't know but this mess needs clearing up." Vibrant orange streaked the sky when a pair of heavy Surplus Augusta/Westland Merlins, conspicuous in retaining their Royal Navy livery from times gone by, thumped across the skyline. The choppers settled some way behind the crate in what by the light of day looked less like a natural clearing and more like a disused supply yard. Spilling from the tail ramps of the choppers came a veritable swarm of non-squad ACU regulars in thick looking riot gear and, rushing out to meet them came a plethora of troodon, behind them settled a third smaller Augusta with a bold red cross adorning the classic Ingen Blue. "Troodon don't belong in daylight, who's the med-evac for?" I asked and blacked out.


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File comment: Micro flares for the Umarex air pistol.
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Last edited by Fenris on Mon Jan 25, 2016 11:20 am, edited 3 times in total.
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 Post subject: Re: The Journal
PostPosted: Sun Aug 02, 2015 3:51 pm 
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Stegosaurus
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Joined: Sun Jul 19, 2015 3:09 pm
Posts: 51
So question, is anyone actually reading and enjoying it? I've had very little feedback.


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 Post subject: Re: The Journal
PostPosted: Thu Aug 06, 2015 8:51 pm 
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Stegosaurus
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Joined: Sun Jul 19, 2015 3:09 pm
Posts: 51
:arrow: 29th July
I awoke in my own bed but with one noticeable difference, "How long have I been lying here, the damn springs have parted." Was my first remark "And can I smell Bacon?" Roland the Headless Thompson gunner was playing on the Island radio station and as I looked around me I found I was surrounded by concerned faces, Owen and Connah were joined by Rach the vet attached to Watchtower squad who also conveniently happens to be Connah's other half and Island administrator Chris, a very old friend of mine. "It's been three days, that crate you chaps found came from one of the other islands, how and why it ended up full of a prohibited species in a yard near one of our disused docks is something we're going to have to look into, but for now I want you looked at by a doctor." Chris Explained "And a physiotherapist." I cut in "Have you any idea what it's like waking up after three days in a bed where the springs have parted, it feels like a seaman's knotting lesson between my shoulderblades." Rather than the medic I paid a visit to Dan, one of our scientists, a man I had the privilege of attending university with (what? you thought they'd let just anyone work with extinct creatures? we've all got qualifications.) Dan was a deceptively cheerful looking sort and conspicuously cleanshaven on an island harbouring so much facial hair, an interesting combination of zeal for playing god and sadness at the state of the planet. After a quick blood test and a redressing of the bite we discussed the strange behaviour of the troodons, it really wasn't like them to attack before dark. After that I went to see Chris, who despite being Island Administrator has a passable knowledge of chiropractic procedure. Chris, a blonde man with long fairly curly hair with a short beard making his chin look somewhat oversized and glasses. As he cracked the joints in my back with a fair amount of pressure I asked him "so *urf* did we get them all *hmrph*" "That's just it old chap, we secured the crate and we have the nasty little things VERY securely penned till we find out what happened. But a few of them ran away into the forest, we'll have to send out a team within the next few days to corral or kill them. I'd be more comfortable with the latter, the little devils give me the willies but I'm not sure my superiors will see it that way." I want to be on that team." I replied, "but one bit you, you should be resting." "Yes and I'll feel a little better about it if I get some degree of payback on them, this time we go in in force rather than sneaking up on them right?" "Well yes but I really don't think..." "Well let's keep it that way Chris, you know my guys can get the job done." In the evening I wrestled my mattress over to sleep on the less caved in side.

30th July
Preparations were made to clear up the remainder of the troodon flock, landcruisers were filled with blank rounds and flares and thick garments of the type used when training police dogs were issued. I sought out one of my squad, Matt on the firing range. "Matt old bean." I addressed the prone form lying behind a Laupa .338 chambered L115A3 sniper rifle "I need your Enfield and your imposing mustache." Matt Did indeed have a quite excessive handlebar mustache which he nurtured in the shade of a narrow brim pith helmet, the Enfield in question was a No 5 "Junglie" Jungle carbine the man was rather attached to, and aside from some .38 short blanks .303 was the largest calibre we were being issued blanks for. I myself had little intention of firing blanks and would be using a Franchi SPAS 12 Shotgun, A rugged looking Ingen Favorite. "What for chief?" asked Matt, "does this relate to that arm of yours?" "It Rather does me old fruit." I replied (cockney rhyming slang and other English Speech mannerisms being something of a fallback so far from home, it's been suggested that away from our native lands many of us cling tighter to national traditions) "Bally creatures got away from our cleanup team and we're to herd them to capture or end the nasty little beasts, bring some live rounds or that crossbow of yours too." Owen I found drinking coffee and staring off over the watering hole that bounded the compound on the South South East. Here the builders of the compound had added a lovely touch, the land inside the boundary was built up in a slope against a wall with a decking balcony hanging a little way over, giving wonderful views of the watering hole. In the early afternoon sunshine a group of hadrosaurs drank on the far bank, their young frolicking in the shallows. "Thanks for the save the other night mate" I opened with, "If I'd known there were more of the little beggars I might have joined you in the trees a little sooner." "Don't mention it." He responded "But next time you should be a bit more careful, I hear you're going back out there after them tomorrow? You should give yourself a break mate." "I'll rest when those hooktooth little fiends aren't running loose on our island, catch them or destroy them, we can't stop till they're gone." "Aye" he said grimly "well if you're in I better make sure you don't let any more of them use you as a chewtoy"

31st July
Choppers thumped overhead as the convoy made its way to the area where the troodon were last seen, five open topped jeeps had a tail of another five landcruisers. Two aged InGen harvest vehicles in faded olive paint that hadn't been ready in time for that fateful hunting trip to Sorna lagged along behind towing wheeled cages. Arriving at the north end of the island the cars were parked at wide intervals and nets stretched between them, cutting off a finger of land around the nest site bordered on two sides by rivers and on the third by the sea. Troodon as was discovered in the first Nublar event cleanup, are not strong swimmers. The aim was to walk along the banks of both rivers in file, hit the coast and angle inwards and meet in the middle to form a line of beaters like one would find at a gamebird shoot. Helicopter flybys had confirmed the presence of more torn open looking rusted crates across the overgrown store yard from where the first crate was found and a smoke grenade thrown from a low chopper was rewarded with an irate troodon streaking from the smaller of the two crates snarling. With the news radio'd in from the choppers we set off, each file composed of a mix of watchtower and other squads. After a good few hours march, I, leading the Eastern column met Owen leading the Western column. I turned to Matt behind me and asked him to give the orders to halt and turn to the South, he did so with such gusto his moustache shook. Inland we marched, guns drawn advancing on the position of the crates, making as much noise and commotion as we could to drive them out. The tactic seemed to work, not to drive them out however but to draw them out into the sunlight. Before us stood a knot of maybe seven troodon, not cowering in the shadows as one would expect but snarling defiance in the light, "I don't like this." I remarked to Owen, "this isn't typical behaviour." Then to everyone: "Well? what are you waiting for? blank rounds only, FIRE!" The rattle of shots rang out but instead of turning tail and running the troodons lowered their heads and charged at us. One fell to my Shotgun and another to Owen's pistols, Matt had inexplicably managed to fit a bayonet while we were distracted and had skewered one of the vile beasts. Two grappled with members of the less than successful herding party only to be clubbed to death with rifle butts while a further two broke through our line. "let's have you chaps check the crates for cowards and nests." Bellowed Owen, "post lookouts for any that have broken through the line, torch any nests you find, we have far too many of these things already!" To me he said "shall we finish them off chum?" "Yes, most Certainly." I replied following him back to the North, "Matt you've got a Dino poker, you're with us." What happened next might well be left to the imagination, suffice to say Owen and Matt carried a limp pair of troodon across their shoulders back to where the line had been broken. After a short hunt, the crates were cleansed with 'defoliant projectors' and we reformed the line to finish the sweep. Arriving back at the convoy and rejoining those who had stood behind the nets with prods and dart guns we disassembled the barricade and drove the convoy to retrieve the remains. The abandoned supply yard was reached by means of an overgrown track which Owen informed me ran on to a small dock his column had passed earlier in the day. We returned to the compound with troodon tied to the bonnets of some of the vehicles as the sun set to our right, the bodies and egg remnants (in buckets handily found in the back of one of the jeeps) were unceremoniously dumped on the lab loading docks. As the teams disbanded Owen and I made for Jani's diner, The Golden Amber, to eat doughnuts. Jani as I've mentioned before is a man hailing from Finland, but he has a real taste for 1950's American culture, from his dress sense and taste in cars to his classic diner. "So how did it go?" he asked as we approached the counter, "round them up ok?" "Sadly no my friend." I answered "it was weird, you know how troodon hide in the dark and rely on numbers?" "Yep!" "It's like they weren't afraid of us, I'll tell you more but I could murder some of your 'Dunkleosteus' Doughnuts." Jani bought out two wooden platters of soft golden doughnuts, still warm and we talked details till his eyes flew to the far end of the counter where an Eodromaeus was attempting to drag James the mechanic's 'Big Brac' burger off the counter while he was distracted on his satphone. "Get down from there." Jani shouted at the tiny green-brown reptile, "That is not yours." The minuscule dinosaur squeaked, ruffled its hindquarter feathers, tore a chunk of meat from the burger, leapt from the counter and made a dash for one of the shadier corners of the diner. For the most part the Eodromaeus were helpful and lovable little residents of The Golden Amber, hoovering up scraps and crumbs and leaving the diner spotless. Several clients burst out laughing, it's hard to stay angry at little dinosaurs with feathery behinds, no matter how mischievous.

Spoiler: show
A note on the pictures.
So, I'm sorry for the lack of backdrop in any of these yet, they're ALL shot on location in my garden or in my house, again there are legal restraints on where I can take pictures with guns. And yes, the Enfield is missing an ejector.


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Live and blank .303s.jpg
Live and blank .303s.jpg [ 81.2 KiB | Viewed 4823 times ]
Olympic .38 blank firer in the hands of one of the island's new arrivals.jpg
Olympic .38 blank firer in the hands of one of the island's new arrivals.jpg [ 156.96 KiB | Viewed 4823 times ]
File comment: Stepping over some animal dung and Debris heading for the Troodons.
SPAS12 R.jpg
SPAS12 R.jpg [ 92.07 KiB | Viewed 4823 times ]
Matt slides a stripper clip of live rounds into his rifle to my left..jpg
Matt slides a stripper clip of live rounds into his rifle to my left..jpg [ 105.63 KiB | Viewed 4978 times ]


Last edited by Fenris on Wed Jan 20, 2016 3:00 pm, edited 6 times in total.
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 Post subject: Re: The Journal
PostPosted: Thu Aug 06, 2015 9:40 pm 
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T-Rex Killer
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Joined: Thu Apr 24, 2003 11:20 pm
Posts: 10669
Location: Lima, Peru
Fenris wrote:
Spoiler: show
A note on the pictures.
So, I'm sorry for the lack of backdrop in any of these yet, they're ALL shot on location in my garden or in my house, again there are legal restraints on where I can take pictures with guns. And yes, the Enfield is missing an ejector.

Well, here's a suggestion:
Spoiler: show
use a green screen (or maybe blue screen, if you prefer) somewhere at your home
. Then you can
Spoiler: show
shoot backgrounds at other place without the gun(s) and replace the green (blue) background.

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 Post subject: Re: The Journal
PostPosted: Thu Aug 06, 2015 11:45 pm 
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Stegosaurus
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I stuck the spoilers tag on that because it didn't really belong in a story post, I'm wondering if I should of separated this into a discussion thread and this one, but yes I have been considering that, I'm no good at all with photoshop though (or writing for that matter :P but I try) Anyhow Hi Machf, it's been a while.


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 Post subject: Re: The Journal
PostPosted: Fri Aug 07, 2015 5:56 pm 
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T-Rex Killer
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Location: Lima, Peru
Wll, it's not that difficult:
http://www.wetzelandcompany.com/Photosh ... Screen.php
http://www.craigstocksarts.com/green_screen/index.html

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Visit The Carnivores Saga - a forum devoted to modding Action Forms' Carnivores, Carnivores 2 and Carnivores: Ice Age games
Tres WIP: updated T-Script Reference and File Formats documents
Sound name listings for the Demo (build 117), Retail (build 116), Beta 103, Beta 99, Beta 97, Beta 96, Build 55, PC Gamer Alpha (build 32) and E3 1998 Alpha (build 22) TPA files


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 Post subject: Re: The Journal
PostPosted: Sat Aug 08, 2015 7:51 am 
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Stegosaurus
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I may look into it but as things stand the Journal is written in what time I find around my day to day life, sometimes finding time to write is enough of a pain without then editing the pictures.


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 Post subject: Re: The Journal
PostPosted: Thu Aug 13, 2015 10:35 pm 
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Stegosaurus
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1st August
The night dragged on into the next morning as we talked, by the time I left the Diner it did not seem worth sleeping. For some time I plinked away at spinning targets to the edge of the firing range with a Hatsan air rifle and a night scope. As the sky lightened I took a twilight drive around the perimeter of the compound, past the lab which passed through the fence, its windows barred against any potential intruding dinosaurs. Past the general ACU staff barracks and past the cottages of the scientists and then on, past passing the dinosaur pens outside the fence. At this hour none could be seen and I drove on to the slope built atop the wall to watch the sun rise. The day was given over to the tedium of reporting back the happenings of the previous day and working out how many rounds had been used up, InGen likes to keep count.

3rd August
The next few days proved far less dramatic than those preceding them, given the tiring nature of recent events I have been put on mandatory non-combat leave, not to be ready in the event of an emergency. Today was spent checking over some of the pens of non-dinosaur species with Jacob in tow, making sure none were in need of repairs. In the morning we drove out to the Southern Highlands to check the aviary enclosures. While the Aviary is mostly given over to the pterosaurs, our bird guy Carl keeps a number of enclosures along one canyon wall fenced off from the rest of the aviary keeping such species as dodos, Argentavis, moa and elephant birds and of course Archaeopteryx. We made a note that the Dodos were slowly pecking apart the fenceposts and a new enclosure would be needed and moved on. In the afternoon we went to the non-dinosaur wing of the reptile lab, a place where the endangerment of species is methodically reversed. The heatlamp array had fallen down in one of the tortoise rooms and Jacob rushed to bolt the chains suspending it back to the ceiling as an angry male, disturbed during his mating attempts snapped as the lad's heels. While this comic scene unfolded I helped bathe Uromastyx lizards, a rare African group of species we had been cloning in large numbers for re-introduction to the wild. The Uromastyx is a grey, heavyset lizard with a wrinkly hide and thick spikes on his legs and tail, this belies their nature as peaceful vegetarians.

5th August
Today I took the East road to the Marine labs located out by the reefs to the East South East. for now these labs were mostly empty tanks and racks of fossils, what animals were alive was mostly limited to Polycheate worms, some of them colourful and with fancy frills and fins but worms in general weird me out. Most of the activity in these labs was focused on the process of cloning endangered and extinct marine life. Today I was helping clean, sort and measure fossil shellfish, hardly exciting stuff but afterwards I got talking to Kelly, head of marine biology. Kelly, a beautiful but quiet brunette is the fiancee of Chris, head of island administration. I asked her what species they were expecting soon, she replied that they were expecting brachiopods, Gryphaea, belemnites, ammonites and if they were lucky, trilobites within three months, additionally they had just sourced partial DNA samples for a number of extinct fish species.

6th August
A new requisition came in with a crate of vehicle parts, my shiny new gun cleaning kit in a wooden case to replace the plastic packaged, worn out one I had been using. I spent the afternoon vigourously brushing the chambers of some of the blank firers (they foul easily) and my Martini Henry sporter before moving on to giving the rest of the squad's guns a well needed clean and oiling.


Attachments:
File comment: Uromastyx acanthinura.
Brushy brushy.jpg
Brushy brushy.jpg [ 98.52 KiB | Viewed 4939 times ]
Lab.jpg
Lab.jpg [ 128.81 KiB | Viewed 4939 times ]
Brushing.jpg
Brushing.jpg [ 163.11 KiB | Viewed 4939 times ]


Last edited by Fenris on Wed Jan 20, 2016 3:08 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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 Post subject: Re: The Journal
PostPosted: Fri Aug 14, 2015 4:31 pm 
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Stegosaurus
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Annnd as you've probably noticed I'm starting to move away from all the illustrations being closeups of guns, I just got a crate of shiny new props today, once the costumes are sorted (the basic costumes are all here but there's much sewing to be done) I might even start adding in shots that AREN'T first person looking down :) And we'll be having some non-photo illustrations soon.


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 Post subject: Re: The Journal
PostPosted: Mon Aug 24, 2015 9:18 pm 
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Stegosaurus
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8th August
Anyone reading this will probably have figured out by now that the life of a professional dinosaur hunter isn't the constant adrenaline rush one might think. A great deal of practice, excercise and free time goes on between entries, That's the sign of a well set up 'Park island I guess. Today the Costa Rican National Weather service was showing a storm heading straight for the island chain. Given the open topped nature of many of the InGen Harvest vehicles we have and some of the canvas tops for the Jeeps being torn to shreds by various sets of claws and teeth something would have to be done. The motorpool was not yet constructed and after the last storm there had been many complaints of wet behinds. Several massive, heavy canvas Tarpaulins and many meters of steel braid guylines were dragged from stores and the various squads hoisted their Tarpaulins into the nearest sturdy trees to their hut clusters (not all squads live together but in general they tend to be assigned close accommodation.) Watchtower's huts are arranged in a rough three quarter circle with a clearing in the middle, after promotion to Watchtower's lead position from security detail I was moved to this hut cluster. We selected the loose group of heavy, twisted trees conveniently occupying the part of the circle our huts were not. By the time we hoisted the tarpaulin into the low branches of the trees light rain was already beginning to fall. We drove the squad's vehicles under the cover of the tarpaulin then pulled lighter tarps taut across the sides of the temporary structure to keep the wind from catching it underneath.

9th August
As the storm hit in full force that Night and into the following morning I spent the time sewing my battered clothing. Good outdoor clothing is hard to get at the best of times, let alone isolated on a classified Island.

10h August
I spoke to Chris about the Troodon autopsies today, he told me tags had been recovered just yesterday from several of the bodies. These tags had mostly been damaged and the rest of the bodies showed signs of chips being clawed out by other troodon. Those three chips still machine readable proved to be encrypted, hardly a good sign, Chris told me they had a third of the lab's computing power working on cracking the chips but it could take days.

11th-12th August
Two days spent working on two of the squad vehicles and one compound vehicle, a Jeep, a Landcruiser and one of the supply trucks.

14th August
Today I returned to the marine lab to sort through a few trays of Belemnites and help move some young Sturgeon to a larger tank. Sturgeon are a charmingly bizarre group of species of freshwater armoured fish, endangered in the wild due to their commercial value and slow reproductive rates. Their elongated bodies terminate in a comically long, pointed snout with whiskers, we sought to breed them not only for re-introduction but also their value to the island's aquarium in time. Young Sturgeon would be ideal for one of those tanks where children are allowed to stroke fish, they're almost cute and their habit of sometimes swimming with their snout out of the water coupled with their armoured hide (to resist heavy handed children) makes them a splendid candidate. I came away from the Marine lab with several small water hyacinths in vases.

15 August
More rain prompted us to field strip, clean and oil the entire squad armoury, tropical weather is not kind to firearms.


Attachments:
Young Starry Sturgeon.jpg
Young Starry Sturgeon.jpg [ 171.55 KiB | Viewed 4885 times ]
Water Hyacinth.jpg
Water Hyacinth.jpg [ 62.11 KiB | Viewed 4885 times ]


Last edited by Fenris on Wed Jan 20, 2016 3:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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