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Ambassadors Guard {complete?}; easy quest
Topic Started: Mar 14 2012, 03:24 AM (431 Views)
wlanedbz
New Member
Ambassador's Guard

Difficulty: Easy

Description:

A rich ambassador has faced near death experiences by a band of ruthless mercenaries in the past few days. You over hear about his request in a local hangout spot from a band of rough looking warriors. However, the gang, you find out, are planning to kill the ambassador and his new found bodyguard. Knowing of your combat prowess through word of mouth, you receive a message from the ambassador begging for your assistance. You can decide to take up this job with the opportunity of protecting the ambassador and his riches or using this request as leverage to get close to the ambassador and take his life, and his riches for yourself.

Reward: +400 zeni, +2 DP, +10 all stats, +2 Rp Credits

Bonus: +100 zeni, +10 all stats, +1 Alignment if he is protected

OR

Bonus: +500 zeni, +5 all stats, -1 Alignment if you kill him
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wlanedbz
New Member
The growling of Recoome's belly filled the room. Shelves shook and rumbled, knocking cups and bowls to the floor. "Gee I wish I had a chocolate bar" Recoome thought to himself. He was hungry, plain and simple. Recoome had fallen on hard times recently, and if he didnt come up with some zeni quickly, he risked being evicted from his one bedroom living space.

Recoome's first thought was to go to town, and offer the citizens of Planet Frieza his services for a fee. Recoome had always been a big fellow, he had no problems doing heavy lifting or whatever oddjobs a paying customer could throw at him.

Sadly, Recoome had never been the sharpest tool in the shed, which often contributed to his poor decision making. Luckily Recoome's other muscles were large enough to bail his brain out of any trouble it got into.

Recoome decided to first check his favorite bar, to see if he could perhaps find work. He went to the Friezan Freezer, sat down, and ordered a drink. Recoome didn't have any money, but that was okay, he didnt plan on paying anyway. The bartender would keep his mouth shut if he knew what was good for him!

He relaxed, sipped his drink, and he pondered his life, his hopes, and his ambitions. Recoome had always dreamed of one day dropping his tedious mundane lifestyle, and join a traveling a capella singing group. Recoome twirled his drink in his hands while daydreaming. He could see the crowds, hear them clapping and chanting his name, "Recoome Recoome!". Perhaps starting to feel the effects of his drink, Recoome jumped to one foot and struck a wicked pose for his imaginary audience, however the response turned out to be laughing, and furthermore it was coming from the corner table in the bar.

Realizing he had just embarrassed himself in front of the entire restaurant, Recoome's instict was to run out of there screaming and crying like bulma at her sweet sixteen. Then he calmed himself, and decided it would probably be better to kill everyone that saw him. Amazing himself with his new plan, Recoome slowly walked to the corner table and informed the group that he was sorry but that he would be killing them.

"Easy big guy, we weren't laughing at you" said a man with an eyepatch at the head of the table, who now was drenched in a nervous sweat, due to the hulking brute in front of him. Recoome picked up the man next to him and crushed his throat, then slammed him on top of his cohort, thinning the group from three to one.

"Whoah there, my god, why the hell did you go and do that?" said the eyepatch man. "How about I make a deal there buddy? How about you spare my life, and Ill show you how to get all kinds of zeni."

"Im listening" said Recoome.

"See there is this ambassador coming into town from the Planet Vegeta. We have word that he is going to be arriving tonight, see, and if you let me live, Ill tell you exactly when and where you need to hit him, to get that Zeni for yourself." said the man.

Recoome became excited at the word, "Zeni?! I like Zeni, but if your lying ill come and break you in pieces, okay?".

Scooting a bit further forward in his chair, the man uneasily whispered, "The Ambassador arrives in 8 hours from now, at the nearest spaceport. From there, he will check out of the spaceport and then he will head to the Saiyan Embassy. Your only opportunity is to nab him on his way to the embassy. Thats all I know, I swear. So, can I umm...go?"

Recoome wasnt even paying attention to the man anymore, his mind had drifted from ambassador, to zeni, and then back to to stardom and singing. The man with the eyepatch took notice of Recoome's lack of focus and slipped out the door.

Recoome was so happy, he skipped as he made his way home to make preparations for his upcoming battle. He went to his room, opened his drawer, and pulled out his good "murderin'" clothes. He hurriedly got dressed, mentally prepared himself, and then struck one last pose, before he set off to destroy his target.

word count 723
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wlanedbz
New Member
Recoome took one last look in the mirror, "This is it big fella, one bloody murder then it's stars, lights, and champagne while I go on my singing tour." He stared intently at himself in the mirror, he wanted to make sure his hair looked perfect for the job. Just because hes about to kill a guy, doesnt mean he should go looking sloppy and unkempt. Plus, Recoome knew that the secret to stardom was having a wicked hairdo, and his certainly did not disappoint.

On his way out, Recoome checked his mailbox to see if his favorite "Cooking with Coldzar" magazine had come in. Sure enough, it lay on top of the stack of delinquent unpaid bill notifications. Poking out from the bottom of all the mail, was a purple envelope with weird writing on it. Recoome tried to read it at first, but then noticed that the envelope wreaked of monkies, so he turned up his nose and tossed it back in with the bills.

On his walk to the starport, Recoome whistled while he read the latest Coldzar. Apparently, Coldzar had twelve tips that will improve your Saibaman Souffle, and Recoome planned on memorizing every one. His favorite turned out to be tip #6, "Need it Heated in a Hurry? Mouth Blast the Bastard!"

It was dark out now, the ambassador would be arriving any minute. Recoome lay fast asleep on the ground, his magazine resting over his face. The pages ruffled each time Recoome exhaled from his snoring.

In a flash, a sayain space pod crashed into platform B, not 200 yards from Recoome's location. The markings on it looked foreign, much like the symbols on the purple envelope. A man with a tale emerged from the vessel, and proceeded to the checkout terminal.

Recoome was sure that this was his man, he circled around to the terminal exit and waited by a group of taxis. Recoome's plan was to jump in the same taxi as the ambassador, kill him and the driver, then throw them out of the car and take off with the loot. It seemed like a solid plan to him.

So Recoome lay in wait. He lurked around outside for far too long, the ambassador must have been held up at customs, typical Friezan Bureaucracy for you.

At last, the ambassador emerged from the terminal. Just as Recoome had predicted he hailed a taxi to take him to the embassy. As soon as the ambassador was seated, Recoome jumped into the cab, so far his plan was being executed flawlessly.

All of a sudden, the unexpected, the driver kicks in the jet boosters on the taxi and zooms away. The sudden jolt sent Recoome flying halfway out of the door, however he just barely managed to keep a grip with his right hand, which prevented him from falling completely out.

Recoome began to try pulling himself back in the car. He could hear the screams of the ambassador, and something that sounded strangely like a laser blaster charging its blast.

Boom! A laser blasted through the middle of Recoome's hair, leaving an empty gap of uncovered scalp.

Recoome, seeing that the driver had fired the blast at him, became infuriated. How was he ever going to become a famous singer if he had a big bald spot in the middle of his head. He worked hard on his hair, and he wasnt going to let some taxi driver ruin his dreams of becoming a superstar!

Recoome aggressively yanked himself back into the moving vehicle, and in an effort to thwart the driver from shooting him again, pulled the parking brake at top speed.

The vehicle came to a violently abrupt stop, flinging all three passengers clear from the car. When Recoome came to he could see the other two passengers of the vehicle. The ambassador lay unconscious in the middle of the street.

The driver of the vehicle was pulling himself across the side of the road. His blaster had flung about 10 feet from his position, and he was doing all he could to reacquire it. Recoome dizzily stumbled over the man, catching him well before he was in range of reaching his blaster. Recoome grabbed the man and turned him onto his back, for the first time seeing his face. It was the man from the bar, with the eye patch.

Recoome, not being the kind of alien who forgives attempted murder, walked over to the empty taxi, picked it up off the ground, and then forcefully and gleefully dropped it on the man's eye patched head.

Slowly, Recoome returned to the ambassador who had regained consciousness. Recoome helped him to his feet, removed his wallet, brushed his shoulders off, and then threw him into the sky. Recoome then liberated the ambassador from his life, with a hearty mouth blast. Coldzar would have been proud.

Recoome returned home a rich man that night, however then decided that his luck was a sure thing, and decided to go to the racetrack. Recoome approached the man taking bets, and glanced at the display above his head.

Recoome bet everything on a 30:1 horse named "Ol' Threelegs", obviously wanting to gain more money in the quickest fashion! Next he found his seat, reclined, and waited for the money to come pouring in.

As the starting gun fired, Recoome was on the edge of his seat. He could feel his heart throbbing, adrenaline pumping, he could feel his senses were heightened. Recoome was but moments away from having all the zeni he could ever desire, which he would then spend on touring clothes, microphones, sports cars, and other superstar neccessities.

As the horses sprang from their gates, Recoome's jaw dropped. He could see Ol' Threelegs, who strangely, had four legs. Regardless, Ol' Threelegs was in front of all the other horses, Recoome could taste the stardom upon his lips. His careful planning would finally come to fruition.

But alas, his victory was shortlived. Not 30 feet from the starting gate, Ol' Threelegs had a heart attack and died. It turned out the horse was 40 years old, which was more than double the age of all the other horses.

Recoome frowned, and sullenly left the racetrack. His eyes began to water, as he fought the stinging sensation in them. "Dont let them see you cry big guy" he said to himself. He felt that his dream of being a superstar was now further from reach than ever before.

Then it hit him, the most brilliant plan he had ever thought of! "I know, Ill go do one more job, and then when I get that zeni, I can just bet it all on a 60:1 horse, and ill get all my money back!" Recoome thought excitedly.

With that, Recoome returned to his skipping and whistling. He skipped slowly away into the night, stopping in the distance...for one last pose!



word count 1149 TWC = 1872
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