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Mardi Gras Merriment; A mini-event to celebrate N'awlins
Topic Started: Feb 15 2018, 12:03 PM (1,651 Views)
Skyhawk347
Wastelander
[ *  *  *  * ]
Hawkins had to admit, he was impressed by Blue’s knowledge. He would not have gotten that last one. The first riddle was one that he suspected everyone knew, and for the second, the part about the dead eating it was a... heh, dead... giveaway. But the last one? Yeah, he never would have guessed vowels.

Now it was his turn to have some fun. He had already picked out the two games he wanted to try. He spotted the dart board game, and handed the two beads to try his luck. The goal was to get all five darts in the bullseye which seemed easy enough. He was a wiz with the dartboard Old Man Hernandez had in the local watering hole back home.

Then he got the actual darts and began to regret his decision. He frowned is he realized the game was somewhat rigged. The darts may have looked the same, but they were all weighed differently.

Well, he had already paid for the attempt, so hey, might as well, right?

The first throw managed to hit the bullseye. A slight adjustment to his aim upwards to accommodate for the heavier second dart, managed to get within the center red circle as well. The third was a close one, barely making it. The fourth was about the same weight as the second and also hit.

It came down to the final dart. Hawkins’ face was plastered with a complete shit-eating grin and he imagined the carny behind him may have seen a bit nervous. A quick look back however showed the carny having a shit-eating grin of his own. Hawkins had to wonder why. The hunter was close to winning, wasn’t he?

But then when he looked back to the dart board he realized that there was very little of the bullseye that wasn’t covered up by the other darts. There was a tiny area on the left side but that was it. In all likelihood, the fifth dart would hit one of the others, bounce off it and fall to the ground. ‘Shit’, he thought.

Well, now or never.

Taking the greatest care in the world, Hawkins aimed more carefully than he had ever aimed in his life, quite odd if one considered this was a carnival game and not some raider dangerously close to a hostage.

He threw the dart. It soared towards the target... and missed the bullseye by less than a millimeter.

“Ohhhh.” The carny said behind him in the kind of tone that was practically asking for the hunter to punch him in the face. “Tough luck, young man. You were soooo close! Alright then. Who is next to test their aim?”

Taking the hint, Hawkins left the dart board feeling more annoyed than anything. Whatever, he still had one more game he wanted to try.

The rock wall... did not look safe... at all. There were loose fake rocks that did not look secure, and the whole thing looked like it might collapse if three or four people tried to scale it at the same time. In other words, climbing this thing would be one of the safer decisions Hawkins had made in his life.

He was sure he could handle it. There were a bunch of dead trees back home that he and a few of his friends would climb is kids. It was all about not staying on one branch for too long.

He handed the beads over to this carny, and started his way up.

There was an obvious rhythm to the whole thing. Hand, hand, foot, foot. He moved with cat-like speed and agility from rock to rock, a handful of them crumbling no sooner than he had left. Within a minute, he was at the top, and rang the bell. He actually heard a few cheers come from below.

Now was the hard part, getting back down. There were enough rocks that had crumbled away to make going down the way he came out of the question. So he had to make due and choose a different path down. He honestly pitied the person who went after him.

But about two-thirds of the way down, he placed his hand on a rock that crumbled away immediately. His eyes widened as he lost his balance and fell the rest of the ten feet to the ground.

Hot pain lanced up his left arm upon impact, but it was a relatively familiar pain, one of his shoulder being dislocated. He was not feeling pain anywhere else, so he had to guess he had not broken anything.

“OH MY GOD! ARE YOU OKAY?!” Hawkins looked towards the voice to see the mustached, overweight carny for this stand. His eyes were bulging in worry and the expression was mirrored by most of the crowd that had gathered. There was even a little girl whose eyes were being covered up by the hand of her father.

The crowd spoke up.

“Daddy, is he dead?”

“Don’t look, sweetheart!”

“No, he’s alive.”

“Oh God! Look at his arm!”

“Someone get a doctor!”

Hawkins used his right arm to get up, and gestured for the crowd to calm down, giving a reassuring smile. “No, no! It’s okay! I just need to pop my arm back in.”

He crossed his right arm over his chest so that the hand was latched to the back of his left shoulder and pulled. With a loud POP, and a sense of relief spreading throughout his arm, the shoulder was put back into place.

“See?” He smiled as he rotated his shoulder a few times. The pain had largely subsided and it felt more uncomfortable than painful, like he simply slept on his arm funny. “Good as new!” He rotated his shoulder a few more times to reassure the crowd.

Judging from the fact that one of the more elegantly dressed women had fainted backwards into the arms of her husband, and a squeamish-looking young man seemed ready to vomit, he guessed they were not reassured.

Well this was awkward.

“So, uhh…” He turned to the carny, “What’s my prize?”

The carny gave a fleeting glance around him, making doubly sure no one was paying undue attention. Once satisfied, he pressed a small pouch into Ryan's good hand, expression definitively impressed.

"Nice job, kid," he murmured. "Anyone asks, you didn't get these from me."

Hawkins took a peek inside, and grinned.

Oh hell, yes.

Prize
 
Five throwing knives


"Totally worth it."
Edited by Skyhawk347, Mar 1 2018, 04:18 PM.
Ryan Hawkins - Level 1
SPECIAL: 5, 8, 7, 3, 6, 9, 3
Equipment: "Talon" (customized rifle), handyman's auto revolver (PC), knife, throwing knives x5, duster coat (desert camo), tan wide-brimmed hat, biker goggles, blue bandana, blue jeans, gloves, gecko-skinned boots
21 years old, 6'1" and wiry; boyish face with shaggy blonde hair, grey eyes, and a mutilated left ear (upper part has been bitten off)
Traits: Scatterbrained, Small Frame
http://s3.zetaboards.com/The_wastes/topic/9048978/1/

Companion
Blue Collins - Level 3



thefortunepsker: Youre like
thefortunepsker: What we need
thefortunepsker: In the cbox dynamic
thefortunepsker: A straight man

JewsphGordonLevitt: I need to get in my writing zone, so activate my thot powers

thefortunepsker: skyhawks like the old man of the cbox
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Blue Collins
Member Avatar
Head raider
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Blue Collins was not amused. Running over to Ryan, he said, "You could have gotten yourself killed! Also, manually restoring a dislocated shoulder?! That's pretty dang - or damn - painful! Heck, you may still have pulled a muscle or something like that!"

The boy then smiled. "But I'm glad you're okay, and I'm amazed you were brave enough to pull something like that stunt off! Anyway, I am going to that Osiris' Oddities' place; that ought to leave me with five strands of beads left." He then patted his rucksack. "After that, we're going to look for Nawlins' Library; I need to refresh my knowledge of science, engineering, and repair work."

A look at the other young man, "What? I'm sure you know that it takes more than arms and armor to build a nation!"
Endymion 'Endy' Soap - Level 1

Flame Collins - Temporarily Seperate from Blue - Level 3

Shintaro Kanzaki - Level 1
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Blue Collins
Member Avatar
Head raider
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Blue would look over to the skull-painted man, admiring the pigment and the texture; was the paint herb-based like most post-war dyes? He would then hand over three strings of beads, then say, "I'm game; what wonders do you have to give, what stories do they tell?"

Osiris flashes a set of surprisingly-white teeth at Blue. "Ah, but here we have a boy with a storied past of itself!" The smile only grows wider as his gaze lingers on the scar around Blue's neck, then Osiris fishes beneath his table, handing Blue a blood-stained, deactivated slave collar. "This" the man whispers conspiratorially, "is dead. Such is the previous wearer. You, however, may find a use for such a trinket, even be it a mundane one. Osiris, however," the man only smiles wider, "believes a boy with a good head will make equally good use of such a relic."

Deactivated Slave Collar
 

All the bits and pieces are there, including the explosive rounds in the small box. Anyone with the right know-how can re-attatch the wires, and bring it back to life.


A smile, and a small chuckle. "You must have some prescience in you if you'd present me with such a token."

Blue then takes the collar, clearly amused...
Endymion 'Endy' Soap - Level 1

Flame Collins - Temporarily Seperate from Blue - Level 3

Shintaro Kanzaki - Level 1
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Blue Collins
Member Avatar
Head raider
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Osiris' Oddities, Mark Two

Blue sets down another three strands of beads. "How much for another wonderful object, man of mysteries?"

Osiris raises a painted brow, but accepts the beads without question. "The dead speak," he says, "and I can only give answer." He pauses for a moment, staring Blue deep in the eyes, then frowns slightly. "They...speak of great ambitions," he murmurs. "Greater than many with more merit and experience." The expression doesn't fade as he searches beneath his table again, face vaguely troubled and sorrowful. "Take care, boy," he says, handing over a thin knife. "Watch over your shoulder, always. The past is done, but can haunt forever."

Poison knife
 

This thin knife is only several inches long, but a groove in the hilt will easily hold a dose of whatever poison you choose. The unassuming weapon puts a whole new meaning to "backstabber".


"Right again, Mr. Osiris," Blue smiled. "Thank you for indulging a young boy's whimsy."

The fifteen-year old then gave a slight bow and left.
Endymion 'Endy' Soap - Level 1

Flame Collins - Temporarily Seperate from Blue - Level 3

Shintaro Kanzaki - Level 1
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Blue Collins
Member Avatar
Head raider
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Blue Collins would then head for the dartboard, and hand over his last two strands of beads to the man with the darts and dartboard. He would then ask nicely, "Is there a time limit to throw the darts, or can I take a few seconds, as long as I throw?"

When he received no answer, Blue felt comfortable with taking a few seconds in-between each throw anyway. To make it clear he was assuming an affirmative, he nodded to the person maintaining the dartboard before being handed the darts, which Blue assessed carefully; they were not weighted uniformly. A smirk - this would be a minor obstacle if he was indeed allowed time.

Taking the heaviest dart first, Blue took a defiant few seconds to measure the trajectory of said dart and calculate how much force he would have to throw said dart with. Then, he angled his arm just right, and threw his first dart at the upper part of the bulls-eye; it it. Three more darts, from heavier to lighter, followed, hitting several other parts of the bulls-eye and leaving a small spot at the bottom for the lightest one.

One more throw, but this time, Blue waited till the carny cleared his throat to speak before launching his last projectile; it hit the remaining space of the bulls-eye, thus completing the conditions needed for victory.

Of course, he had just ensured that future contenders will have to face a time limit, but he'll face their wrath later...

There's a bright flash of light as Blue throws his final dart. While it doesn't interrupt his aim, it does startle the man in the booth somewhat, changing the expression on his face from a mixture of incredulity and disappointment to one of sheer surprise.

"The hell?" he mutters, more to himself than Blue. "Oh, and...nice job, kid." He sighs, glaring at all five perfectly-placed darts as though they've done him a personal disservice. "Here."

You win-
 

Slingshot, 6 steel balls. This unassuming weapon is small enough to fit in one's pocket, but packs a hell of a wallop in the right hands. With proper practice and a good aim, it's a deadly and easily-concealable means of ruining someone's day.
Edited by Blue Collins, Mar 2 2018, 12:59 PM.
Endymion 'Endy' Soap - Level 1

Flame Collins - Temporarily Seperate from Blue - Level 3

Shintaro Kanzaki - Level 1
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Funkifan
Member Avatar
The Cobras' Leader
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Edgar closed one of his eyes slightly, fearing some kind of lashing out due to the accident, especially due to the pain that she seemed to be experiencing after crashing into her, was instead regarded with admiration from her eyes, and curiosity, that on second thought, was focused towards his companion, although she didn't seemed to mind at all, in fact, she seemed awfully quiet, like if in deep thought.

"Yes! I-I w-was! I uhhh... ahh... I helped you! A-And... and t-then... y-you saved my life! I! I-I remember!" He exclaimed as a wide smile came upon him, his heart filled with joy at the realization that he had found the person he owed his life to.

Before showering her with even more praise, she was called by the man managing the food stand, as he realized she was apparently about to receive some food. Unexpectedly, she asked him if he wanted any, a question to whom he responded with a perhaps too energetic bow, and soon enough, the woman offered both him and the ghoul lady a King Cake, that immediately made Edgar's mouth water.

"Oh gooooshhh..." He spoke as he took the cake. "Thank you thankyouthankyouthankyou!" The redhead spoke as he took a bite, and immediately savored the deliciousness of the cake. "S-Sandyyy, yoou have to try this! Its a cake... a-a Kiiing Caaake!" Happily, he announced, receiving a small smile from the woman, who placed her hands forward, with the medic gently placing the item in her hands.

"Delicious, yes." The ghoul soon responded after she had taken the first bite. "With tastes like this, I can't believe you claim to have been starving for all your life." She remarked, towards Alida, as she tried to face her, although had some trouble to do so.

"Waait... uh... I-I... d-do you have a naaame... miss? My name is E-Edgar! Edgar A-Algae! And... I... c-caaan I thank yooou in any way for saving me?" His right hand was extended towards Alida, as another bite of the King Cake, filled with caramel, was given by him, as he tried to fight the urge to just give his savior a warm, bear hug to show her how grateful he was.

Suddenly, the name of the musician was spoken, and she immediately turned around, trying to pinpoint the voice from amongst the crowd. "Huh? How... do you... remember me? Me, the forgotten, Sandra Arango de Tovar Pupo?" She asked, frowning, in case she hadn't been hearing right.

She was barely able to hear to the wiry, tall man speak about how much he admired her, and how she had been an inspiration for his own songs. This soon caught the attention of the redhead, who gazed at the two strangers, soon finding that the admirer also had a companion, a small, yet strong-looking woman with a penetrating gaze.

The doctor waved back at them, yet stopped as the boy spoke of trying to not be a nuisance, and of Edgar being a date. "Oh... not at all. He is just my aide for the time being." She explained, her visage falling down somewhat.

"So... George, Nia. I am unsure what you seek with an old piece of furniture such as me, but if you want to, you can accompany us for the time being." She replied, gazing at Edgar, who nodded.

"Uhh... suuuure! Uh... just... wanted to do stuff with missss uh..." His green eyes went back to Alida, as he just smiled at her.

Suddenly, the crowd began to cheer with more zeal, as the riders next to where the food stand stood danced and sang on, as a round, small, and golden object came through the hands of onlookers, carried over them, some of them which where frantically trying to grab ahold of it. Yet, by some strange amount of luck or maybe destiny, it was flung forth, landing directly on Edgar's hands.

"He caught the Zulu Coconut!"

The redhead gazed at the item, somewhat perplexed, as the crowd both seemed upset and perhaps, even jealous, although he wasn't too sure about the importance of the item, it sure seemed interesting. The sphere was a gold-painted coconut husk, the letter Z standing out in perfect clarity.

Curious, he opened the husk, finding inside nothing other than a:

Gator Trade Slip.

Man, it seemed that things were really looking out for him.

Edgar Algae -HC-

SPECIAL: 3-5-7-8-6-7-4

Level: 4

Edgar is a tall, attractive man, with red bright hair, green eyes, and tan skin, due to his Hispanic heritage. He currently wears a yellow t-shirt, with cargo shorts, a Leather Jacket (Tier 2, Good CON, plus on intimidation checks). Attached to his left wrist, he possesses an Automedical Assistant. On his back, he carries an XL Rucksack, that contains several items of his', like a Medical armored Suitcase, filled with all sorts of medical equipment. His weapon of choice is the Study Group Special, a modified mini-zapper.

He is Good Natured, Spongey, and has Sex Appeal (For the girls)


+120 BT Reputation; +90 Nawlins Reputation
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Skyhawk347
Wastelander
[ *  *  *  * ]
Hawkins appreciated Blue's concern, but he told the kid it wasn't really that dangerous. He fell - what? - 15 feet? If that? The only way he could have died from that would be if he landed on his head and the rest of him fell in such a way that it ended up breaking his neck. He supposed he was lucky to get out with a dislocated shoulder instead of a broken arm.

Still he couldn't help but appreciate the concern. He'd have to show Blue what he got as a prize later.

Blue mentioned that they'd have to go to come kind of library, for information on how to better run a Republic's infrastructure. The kid thought his confusion was over the fact that they couldn't just be formed with guns and ammo, but Hawkins really was more confused that there might be a still standing, fully-functional library.

But their first stop was a place called Osiris' Oddities. They were having some kind of deal there where if you paid three beads, you'd get something good. Or the item chose you, if you believed the creepy man (whose lack of face made Hawkins think for a split-second that he was a VERY unfortunate ghoul before he realized it was just elaborate paint) running the store.

'Ah, what the hell?' Hawkins thought as he put the proper amount down on the counter. Might as well see what he'd get, right?

Osiris gives Ryan a wide smile, staring at him in a way akin to a hawk looking at a particularly juicy rabbit. He motions for him to have a seat, never breaking his rather unsettling gaze.

"Welcome, welcome," he leans forward slightly as he addresses Ryan. "Ah, but Osiris has not met a man like you in some time! Shh," he hisses, head tilting to one side, still never breaking eye contact, "the dead, they speak of..." he squints slightly, "a bright past, a clouded future." His expression transitions into a vaguely troubled frown. "Great dreams, greater obstacles. Yet a young man with quick eyes and quicker hands," the smile is back, now, "should have little trouble forging his path in life. Now hush," he directs, rooting briefly beneath his table, "they say...hm. They say this young man," the uneasy look is back, "will fight, as hard as necessary, though many difficulties stand in the way. They say," he slides over a small bottle with notable hesitation, "that he may have need of death itself on his side. Take great care," Osiris warns gravely, "that ambition does not transition to greed, to overconfidence. As they say," a pointed stare at Ryan's arm, "the higher the bough, the greater the fall."

Well, this was creepy. The fact that Osiris had looked at the arm that not ten minutes ago was dislocated did not escape him. How did he know? No, he already knew the answer. He had heard rumors that the radiation had affected people's minds, giving them incredible abilities, but... he never thought he'd ever meet one.

He took the small bottle and recognized the liquid inside. He had seen it too many times for him not to.

Radscorpion Venom
 
A small bottle of light-green liquid, stopped with a glass cork that fits firmly into place. A potent neurotoxin, a small dose will cause violent muscle cramps, a larger one can stop the heart and respiratory system. Easily poison knives and small projectiles, just make sure to avoid contact with the eyes, skin, and mouth of anyone you don't happen to hate.


He put it away in his rucksack, treating it with the caution it deserved. When he saw Blue with both a collar and a sinister-looking knife, he was curious. Was Osiris giving two items? One for every three beads. He looked at the rest of the beads in his rucksack. Three left. Might as well. He put them infront of Osiris. "Um, so... this might seem a bit like I'm being a jerk, but... can I get another one? Or some other kind of item? Not that the venom isn't great, but... yeah, I'll shut up now."

Osiris shrugs vaguely, then nods once. "A fair trade is just that," he states, then gives Ryan another disquieting stare. The black circles painted around his eyes only make the whites of them that much more vibrant, as he seems to stare directly into the young man's soul. "One with such...drive," he says quietly, "yet does not let it overtake a good nature. An oddity, indeed." A brief wink as Osiris fishes beneath his table again. "Keep your heart pure, boy," the man murmurs, one hand passing Ryan a

Swiss Army Knife
 
This tool has just about everything an intrepid adventurer could ever need, from a small blade, to several screwdrivers, even a small fork. 'Multi-purpose' is a drastic downplay of the device's utility.


"The saying goes," a dark thumb brushes Ryan's cheek briefly and the hunter's eyes bulge briefly, "keep your friends close, your enemies closer. Osiris believes this to be drabble." The dark eyes don't lose an ounce of intensity as the vendor goes on. "Enemies, they are easy to earn, just as easy to end. To make a real friend," his voice drops to a bare hint of a whisper, "one must work ceaselessly. A worthwhile journey, though not an easy one." The grin is suddenly back, as though Osiris had been discussing nothing more consequential than dinner plans. "Enjoy the carnival, boy," he says dismissively. "Youth, freedom, they are an intoxicating mix, not to be squandered."

Hawkins took the Swiss Army Knife and nodded at Osiris' advice.

With that, and Blue getting what he needed, the two of them left. Osiris had other customers to attend to it seemed, and special abilities or not, he was still a businessman who probably wouldn't like being asked questions about his "gift".

Hawkins thought that then they'd go to the library, but apparently Blue was still completely interested in trying out some of the other games, and so Hawkins tagged along to keep an eye on him, even if the kid dragging him around was a bit annoying. He suspected it was Blue's first time at a carnival (to be fair, it was his first time too), and he could tell Blue was having a ball. Who was he to disrupt that.

And no, he didn't feel bitter that Blue managed to win the dart game whereas he didn't. Nope. Not one bit.
Edited by Skyhawk347, Mar 3 2018, 04:10 PM.
Ryan Hawkins - Level 1
SPECIAL: 5, 8, 7, 3, 6, 9, 3
Equipment: "Talon" (customized rifle), handyman's auto revolver (PC), knife, throwing knives x5, duster coat (desert camo), tan wide-brimmed hat, biker goggles, blue bandana, blue jeans, gloves, gecko-skinned boots
21 years old, 6'1" and wiry; boyish face with shaggy blonde hair, grey eyes, and a mutilated left ear (upper part has been bitten off)
Traits: Scatterbrained, Small Frame
http://s3.zetaboards.com/The_wastes/topic/9048978/1/

Companion
Blue Collins - Level 3



thefortunepsker: Youre like
thefortunepsker: What we need
thefortunepsker: In the cbox dynamic
thefortunepsker: A straight man

JewsphGordonLevitt: I need to get in my writing zone, so activate my thot powers

thefortunepsker: skyhawks like the old man of the cbox
Offline Mini Profile Goto Top
 
Mixtli
Member Avatar
Resident Canadian
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Slater looked at the small and scruffy man that was offering him some sort of drug. Eh, you only live once. “I’ll take you up on that, but I don’t get high with someone until I’ve shared a drink or two with them.” He leaned over to whisper conspiratorially in the other man’s ear. “Besides, us heroes drink for free.” He settled back on his stool just as the woman he’d been talking to answered his question and ordered the pair of them a shot each.

A single word that she had said hit him like a knife in the brain.

Quote:
 
Elizabeth


Fuck that brat. Tonight is for me, and those that killed by my side.

He caught himself gripping his cup almost tight enough to shatter the glass, and eased up. It had been a while since he had been part of such a big celebration, and he’d be damned if he let an ungrateful child ruin things for him after all of his work.

He grinned at Ellie. “You know what? I’ll take you up on that offer, and I’ll raise you one better.” He slapped her and Spike on the back. “I wanna drink to tonight, and then I’m going out there to see the shit I can get for these beads. Tonight the world’s ours for the taking!”

Three shots slid across the counter as he finished his declaration. The bartender looked at the trio and sighed. “I figured that you’d want to give the scruffy one a drink as well, so I saved you the trouble of asking.”

Slater jabbed his index finger on the table. “This ‘scruffy one’ showed that he’s got a big pair when he faced off against those pirates!” he growled. “Show a little respect, because I wouldn’t be surprised if you see a lot more of him and me around here in the future.” He laughed and slapped Spike on the back again. “Drink up, because the night is just getting started!”

THE TRIALS OF MYSTERY
A small group of people were waiting in an orderly line leading to a stall that was being staffed exclusively by a man with the image of a skull painted so cunningly on his face that it looked as though his flesh had vanished. Slater was itching to shove his way to the front of the line, but he felt strangely compelled to go to the back and wait his turn. The line moved quickly, and every time someone traded their beads for a strange package he could always hear a shout of surprise or a groan of dismay.

Finally, he approached the mysterious stall that was being run by the man with a skull-painted face."I am de proprietor of this stall. You've come to make a deal wit' me?" The disguised man leaned forward over the stall, and for the first time in years Slater felt nervous. There was something about the other man's demeanor that told him that whatever he got in exchange for the beads, he'd better be happy (or at the very least respectful) about the transaction.
Swallowing his reticence, Slater untangled three strands of beads from around his neck. “Hmm, I’ve never been one to resist an oddity or two so here’s the price.” He handed over the requisite strands of beads, and waited excitedly to see what he would get in return.

Osiris grins in response. "Ahh," he breathes out, "a man with many stories to his name, so many untold!" The grin doesn't fade as he meets Slater's gaze without hesitation or fear. "While it is oft a burden to listen to the whispers of the dead," he leans in close, expression conspiratory as he hisses quietly, "I stare into the eyes of a man who has condemned so many to that fate." He squints for a moment, not quite judgemental, definitely not friendly. "You are a friend to none but yourself," Osiris finally states. "As such, you deserve nothing but self-preservation, and shall have it."

Jolt Juice
 

Osiris passes over a small vial of red liquid, still glaring at Slater as one would normally stare down a rabid Deathclaw. "Partake with care," he says, no real emotion in his voice, "or risk the wrath of the Gods. More than a sip can easily still a heart, yet a proper dose gives a man otherworldly endurance."

(Five uses, increases Endurance by +1 per RP)


THE HOT PEPPER CHALLENGE

What in the fuck is going on over there? Slater heard the challenge long before he saw what it entailed He could hear crying, whimpering, and begging, and the unmistakable tune of the weak in agony. In other words, it was just the thing to keep the night going. He hoped that the others were following along behind him, but at the moment he was too entranced by the sounds of pain on the other side of the crowd to check. Huh, that’s new. There was an energetic man standing on a raised platform, upon which there was only a single wooden chair behind a table. On the table were a number of baskets that each looked like they were filled with some sort of vegetable. The man was dressed in red but was otherwise unremarkable, except for the large hat that he wore on his head.

“Step right up! Will you be man enough to make it through the fiery perdition that is our powerfully potent peppers, or will this plethora of pernicious peppers pose too much of a problem and have you peel away puling pathetically with your tail between your legs?”

The explicit challenge was poetry to Slater’s ears. He stepped out of the crowd and raised his hands in the air. “I’m tougher than any three of the other challengers! Line these bad boys up and I’ll crush the whole thing without any trouble.” The roaring of the crowd brought him to greater and greater heights of fevered ecstacy.

The shouting man pointed at Slater and beckoned him to the stage. “We have another contender!” He turned Slater to face the crowd once he was on the short stage, and made a show of gripping his arms and shoulders as he continued to speak about the shouting and the jeers. “Folks this fella might not have been joking about how tough he is, but only time and the pure peppery hellfire that is my special ghost pepper will reveal the truth to us all.”

He guided Slater to the chair and sat him down. “What we have here are five peppers, ranging in strength from the humble jalapeno to the deific, some might say demonic, ghost pepper! What you must do is eat each pepper in its entirety, starting from the jalapeno and moving up, and if you manage to eat all five then you’ll-”

Slater hand-waved the unneeded explanation away and stuck the whole first pepper in his mouth. Huh that isn’t half-bad, he thought to himself as he chewed. He’d eaten hotter than this before, but it certainly wasn’t a bland flavour. He spat the stem out on the table and picked the next pepper up.

It didn’t look like anything special, but he was curious to see how much hotter this one would be than the last. Slater heard the announcer mention that it was called a Spanish Chili before he tuned him out once more. He held it out for the crowd to see before crunching down on it with as much gusto as he had the first time. “Damn,” he mumbled around the pepper in his mouth. The heat had certainly increased, but he was surprised with how much he enjoyed the flavour of the pepper. Not bad. He swallowed the pepper and spat the stem out to the crowd, and their cheering only grew louder.

The announcer tapped him on the shoulder. “Buddy you still need to hand over two strands of beads. I’ve got a family to feed.”

Slater contemptuously moved the man’s hand off of his shoulder and pulled two strands from around his neck. “Is this good enough?” The man tipped his pepper-shaped hat and tucked the beads in one of his pocket.

He cleared his throat and raised his hands for silence, and the crowd obliged. “Now,” he said, letting the silence grow louder between his words, “our challenger is down to three more peppers. The habanero, the scotch bonnet, and the infamous, the horrifying, the ghooooost pepper!”

The screaming returned, and Slater could feel the adrenaline start to course through his veins. Before he knew what he was doing, he had picked up the next two peppers and shoved them both in his mouth at the same time. He knew that he had acted under the influence of his own hubris as soon as he bit down on them both, but he was too damn stubborn to let a single morsel of either pepper slip from his lips. Compared to the other peppers, these two made him feel like he’d been stung on the tongue by a dozen furious hornets. My mama didn’t raise a quitter. She raised a killer! He clenched his fists so tightly that they creaked, and swallowed down both peppers with a grimace of determination.

The crowd fell silent as Slater picked up the last pepper. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but it felt as though the tips of his fingers were burning just from the prolonged contact with the fiery veggie. The announcer cleared his throat as if unsure about what was about to take place. “Finally, what we’ve all been waiting for. The ghost pepper!” Everyone stood stock still until the moment was shattered by a small child’s voice rising above the silence. “That old man’s not tough enough for the ghost pepper!”

Slater looked into the crowd, trying to find a face to go with the voice that he’d heard. When he was unable to identify the doubter, he bit the pepper in half and starting chewing on the piece that was in his mouth. Almost immediately it felt like someone had replaced his tongue with a white-hot bar of molten iron. Numbness started to spread into his mouth starting at his lips, but nothing would stop him. He swallowed what he had been chewing on, and rubbed his finger around the edge of the pepper that was still in his hand. “I’m not strong enough?” he bellowed to the crowd. “How many of you could do this?”

Cries of dismay spread through the crowd as people started to realize what he was about to do. A young woman fainted after a cry of “Won’t somebody think of the children?” and somewhere in the back a child, seeing the damage that their words were about to inflict on another human being, started to sob. John Slater, the absolute madman, took the tip of that finger and thoroughly rubbed it around his left eye.

A few years ago Slater had been unable to learn what he needed to know from a tribal with his usual charm and wit, and he’d decided to put the pliers down to take a burning twig from a nearby fire and shove it into the unfortunate person’s eye socket. Right about now he started to feel an appreciation for what the other person had been going through.

He instantly felt tears running out of the eye. This may have hurt more than the time that he’d caught a raider’s rusty blade through the palm of his hand, and he loved it. He pushed through the pain and entered a state of euphoria. He used his renewed vigor to make short work of the remains of the ghost pepper before collapsing back in exhaustion.

The announcer wet his lips, unsure of how to take care of this situation without angering the maniac that was on stage. “I uh… we’ve got a winner over here!” One drunk in the crowd started to clap, and then another joined in, and finally the rest of the audience (sans unconscious woman and sobbing child) joined in. Slater looked at the crowd with his one good eye, trying to see his partygoing companions.

"Sweet Christ," the man in the chili hat whispers fearfully, "you're totally off your rocker, fella." He looks a bit unsure of how to proceed, finally shaking his head to pull his wits back together. "Uh..!" He yells loudly, "behold! A man who endured the test of fire without flinching!" He keeps staring at Slater, highly dubious as he hands over a

Retractable Steel Nightstick
 
This weapon folds in on itself, and opens to a good foot and a half with a hefty flick of the wrist. Unassuming and easily concealable, anyone without a good arm might attest it's not good for much other than a few bruises; those with a mighty swing know better, and can easily shatter skulls in the blink of an eye.
Thomas Grey, level 5, Ranger Rep +10, BT Rep +118, Brick Rep +15
SPECIAL: 6, 7, 7, 4, 7, 6, 3
Equipment
Weaponry: Colt Army revolver, pocket revolver, 1x smoke/stun/baseball grenades.
Armor: Pack rat clothing, leather greaves, reinforced chaps.
Appearance: Caucasian. Tall, strong build, short thick curly brown hair. Dark eyes, a frown, and a cleanshaven face. Grey shirt with 3/4 sleeves and leather bracers. Jeans with reinforced leather chaps, and a tool belt.
Companion: Elizabeth Sharpe - 4, 8, 4, 3, 5, 10, 6 - Small stature, but makes up for it with knives, a crossbow, and attitude. Level 5. +5 BT Rep.
John Slater: SPECIAL 8(+1).4.10.5.5.4.5.
One bad hombre
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Cewebwalz
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Henshin a go-go baby
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(Note: Everything written after "Winters Gulped" was done by the wonderful AZ)

It all seemed to go so quickly, Jesse could barely put the events in the correct order. One moment he was inside the tiki bar, the next he was holding a full shot glass above his head in the street. No one seemed to care that he was guarding his liquor, the rambunctious crowd didn’t cease, they all took turns bumping and pushing Jesse to the side till he was no longer in front of the bar.

He was lost. The city was almost familiar to him in the daylight, the raucous nighttime Crescent Top was a madhouse.

What had happened? A young man and Ryan got enveloped into a conversation, while Slater got distracted by some whiskey chugging stranger and that all too familiar scrappy kid, who inexplicably made Winters feel uneasy.

Jesse’s mind flashed backed to helping move a pile of dead bodies surrounding the boat captains. They were all torn to shreds, like a hellcats feeding nest, and only a scrawny, dirty member of Nina’s crew was alive, albeit soaked in blood. Winters remembered tossing an arm into the ocean, unsure which corpse it belonged to, knowing full well none of the dead pirates would receive a proper burial. They became fish food, and suddenly Jesse’s unease made sense to him.

Winters had tried to get away when ‘Spike’ wrapped his arm around his shoulder, armed with bloodshot eyes and speaking like it was any other day. It was only when a drunk ordered everyone in a bar a shot that Jesse stood up nonchalantly, everyone too embroiled in themselves to notice. His hand nimbly caught a shot glass somehow, probably from when a collection of glasses eerily came careening to the ground.

Jesse didn’t really remember that, his short term was never immaculate, and the alcohol wasn’t helping. He down’d the shot, his own alcohol content high enough that it tasted like water. He stumbled into the crowd, following them aimlessly, until a colorful tent caught his eye.

A young couple stumbled out, bright colored drawings on their faces sloppily applied. Jesse wondered what kind of booth it could’ve been, before he figured it was for finger painting, and readily walked over. He swept the curtain to the side and was surprised to find only a set of chairs and a mystic.

Sober Jesse didn’t like mystics. They all seemed over the top, for the most part they were more bark than bite, and went by titles like “witch” and “magnificent”. Drunk Jesse saw her wave him in with an elegant hand gesture and he obliged, his inebriated stance ready to give out. Taking seat in a chair opposite her, he looked up and blinked in and out of his precautions. Winters could only see her eyes and edges of skin, which were precisely drawn. Her eyelids had obscure symbols Jesse didn’t recognize, and something inside him told Jesse this wasn’t finger paint related.

He let her take his hand in hers, his skin crawling. A bony finger reached out to his neck from her other hand, and she grasped three of the beads around Winters neck, snapping them off and placing them in the middle of the table, sliding them under both her and Jesse’s hand.

Winter’s gulped.

“Welcome,” the woman whispers, caressing Jesse’s hand with one slim finger. Her dark eyes narrow in the candlelight, briefly examining his face, then drop to his hand. “Rough,” she mutters, more to herself than Jesse, “tried. Exhausted,” she breathes out. Her gaze goes back to his face. “You have suffered much,” she says softly, “mostly trouble of your own making, some dictated by cruel fate.” She shakes her head once, a pointed fingernail tracing a line down Jesse’s palm. “Long lifeline,” she murmurs. “While the finger of sun, it holds great promise, unfulfilled.”

The Gypsy woman raises her gaze, depthless eyes glittering in the candlelight. “You are a man of many sorrows, many regrets.” The edges of her brows crease slightly as she smiles beneath the kerchief. “Much potential.” Her nail goes back to Jesse’s hand. “Unimpressive willpower,” she says, tracing the end of his thumb. Her finger lowers to the second digit. “Decent logic.”

Her finger dips to his palm again. “The line of Mars runs deep,” she states, “a man with a proclivity for violent solutions. The line of head, also prevalent. One who can overcome adversity with logic, if so inclined?” She shrugs briefly. “The line of Venus, short, unlikely.” Her gaze temporarily betrays a modicum of sympathy. “But is love not fleeting for us all?” She asks, more to herself than Jesse. “The line of health,” she goes on, “strong. Powerful. The line of heart, deep as well. An indomitable will.” The woman turns Jesse’s hand over and pats it briefly.

“You have great potential,” she says softly, “little trust in yourself. Overcome your own doubts, and greatness awaits you. Here,” the smile is back, barely distinguishable under the kerchief. “We must hope for the best, and expect the worst. Take care, and do not fear the future, but embrace the challenges it presents.” She presses into Jesse’s hand
Hidden Blade
 
With the twitch of a finger, you can activate a wrist-worn blade. Though some would say it’s less of a liability to cut off the finger it shoots over, anyone with a good head on their shoulders can manage the weapon without mutilating themself.

Jesse Winters - Penitentiary Pugilist
8(+2).5.7.5.5.8.4, Level: 4 -HC-

Grace Van Vliet - Indie Incinerator
5.7.7.5.5.4.7, Level: 3 -HC-
Quote:
 
Lmgthev:� Like tbh I agree CP is not the golden boy at all
Lmgthev:� You're like John Candy from Cool Runnings
Lmgthev:� Washed up has been who teaches the newcomers the trade� :D

full-sized avatar

"What is Adderal, anyhow?" - Funky Fan
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Hornswaggler
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almost as nice as Funki
[ *  *  * ]
It wasn't that there was any real quiet area in the whole city at this point, but Thomas managed to find one corner of booths that was a little calmer than the rest. He really just needed to get out of the city in general, but at this point it was too dark to travel, and he didn't entirely trust that he wouldn't end up mugged by some overly drunk idiot with a knife on the outskirts.

"Ah, we could take the drunk idiots around here," Aiden grumbled. "Or, y'know, I could. If you'd let me."

Thomas ignored that, folding his arms around himself a little tighter as a chattering group pushed by. It took a lot of self control not to pull out his knife when someone pushed past him as they came out of the tent that he hadn't realized he was standing in front of.

The glimpse he got of the person inside was not what he expected. He blinked once as the tent flap shut again and then, almost unwillingly, pushed it open again and slipped inside. There was a long pause, and then the shrouded figure gestured at the chair in front of her table. Thomas sat without entirely knowing why, ignoring whatever it was Aiden was muttering about getting shot by some creep in a handkerchief.

The woman tenses up immediately, staring at Thomas with dark, piercing eyes. "Trouble," she hisses from beneath the kerchief. "Not of body, but mind." A long, tense pause follows, before she finally reaches out and tentatively takes Thomas' hand. She stares down at it, eyes furrowing.

"Two lifelines?" More a question than a statement. "Intertwined, inseparable...tangled." The frown doesn't fade in the slightest as she goes on. "The line of fate," her fingernail slides lightly down Thomas' palm, "long, but thin. Fate has not been kind," she shakes her head once, "and does not look prone to improving. The curve of Saturn is thin as well," her finger lingers on the bottom of Thomas' middle one, "a living carved from pure strength of will rather than any handouts." She traces downward along the middle of his palm. "The line of Mars," Barlaving says quietly. "Deep, yet short. The war...internal." Though her face is mostly covered, the troubled expression is impossible to mistake. "The girdle of Venus, thin. A calloused heart...injured, or simply afraid?" Obviously not expecting an answer, the sharp nail continues across the middle of Thomas' hand. "The head line," she states. "Deep, yet crooked. A tainted intelligence." Her finger moves to the side of his hand, and the frown deepens. "The mark of intuition...stronger than many, yet also crooked," the Romani mutters. She releases Thomas' hand as though it were a hot iron, dark eyes fearful and every muscle tensed to flee.

"Be gone," she whispers fearfully. "The demon will not be tamed, but through means long since lost. You cannot control him, you cannot contain him." Barlaving shoves a small book toward Thomas, while shying back from him. "Be gone!"

Survival Guide- Everything you didn't know you didn't know about living off the land
 
This collection of knowledge is invaluable to anyone with the capacity to read. Learn how to hunt, fish, cook, and collect clean water, all with the tools abundant in nature. If you CAN'T read, the paper can always be used as tinder.

Thomas stared at the woman a few moments longer, eyes wide and knuckles white around the book. He forced himself to stand, tugging out the three strands of beads that a small sign claimed was payment and dropping them on the table before spinning on his heel and ducking through the tent flap back into the crowd that now seemed deafening.

"Weird old hag."

"Shut up." Thomas rubbed a hand over his face, unconsciously staring down at the lines across his palm when he pulled it away.

"Just sayin'." There was the hint of a sneer in the other voice as he added, "But she's not exactly wrong."

That was precisely the problem.
Donny: Level 1 | BT Rep: -25
S:8 P:3 E:5 C:7 (+1) I:4 A:8 L:5 [injured arm]
Equipment:
Battle Bat (T2) | Zip gun | Cross Blade (T1)
Armor:
Tattered leather jacket | Coal Miner's Tee-Shirt
Supplies:
Large Hide x2 | Molerat meat | La Ranchero voucher | Coyote meat | Kissing Cousins Lid | Rose rosary beads | Holdout Bible
Traits:
Finesse | Scatterbrain | (Masochist)
Thomas(/Aiden) Valker: Lvl 1
S:4 P:8 E:6 C:5 I:5 A:7 L:3 (Cha -3 when Aiden is controlling)
Equipment:
Hatchet | Switchblade
Armor:
Packrat's Clothing
Traits:
Creep | Small Frame | Duelist

Human John - An average Human male
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vexedBubble
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Ghoul
[ *  *  *  * ]
Alida, eating her King Cake too quickly, hiccuped and nodded at Edgar. “My name is Alida.” She looked down at his extended hand, not accustomed to this greeting ritual, but her hand met his softly, a small shake, and retreated quickly. She shrugged at his offer of thanks. “I wanted to look around more, if you want to come?” And that was that.

Together, the group wandered around the different carnival festivities, it was almost a sensory overload with the amount of colour and noise, people laughing and cheering, booing when they lost, high-fiving and hugging when they won. She had never seen so many happy people in one place, it was surprisingly uplifting. Her eyes drifted over the crowd and settled on a beautiful woman who stood out from everyone else. She seemed sad, and had two large bodyguards either side of her. Alida strolled up to realise it was a game.

“You sir! Are you a heartbreaker, or a womanizer? Come! Make our wonderful Belle smile, it’s easy enough I promise,” the announcer winked, “and win a big prize! You’re handsome enough!” he laughed and pointed someone else out of the crowd. “Hey mister! You look like a comedic fella! Want to try our Game of Hearts? Just two bead strands!”

She stepped closer, removing her mask and passing two necklaces to the announcer. “Can I try?” he chuckled and nodded, moving off to the side to allow her to walked up to Belle. Alida tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled gently at the woman.

“My name is Alida. I was taken from my family when I was a child, but my ma used to tell me stories about the night sky. It helps me keep calm.”

She looked up, studying the stars before pointing out a specific dot in the sky. “You see how there is a set of stars there? They make this shape.” Alida held her thumb tips together to make a ‘W’ out of her hands. “That’s the Queen. She was very selfish, her King next to her was very forgiving though. They have a daughter, the Princess. The Queen lied about her and said she was the most beautiful girl, more beautiful than The Sea’s children.” she pointed out each of the stars as she mentioned them.

“The Sea was angry and he sent a Monster out to punish the Queen. The King loved the Queen more than he loved his daughter so he threw the Princess out for the Monster instead. The Princess thought she was going to die, but a Soldier killed the Monster before it got to her. She fell in love with him and they married, leaving her parents and going on adventures together.” Alida stared at the sky for a moment longer, and looked down to make eye contact with Belle. “I think when people die become stars and these stories are born. It’s the only story I can remember, and I pretend that ma’s up there telling it to me every night so I don’t forget.” she nodded, giving the girl an honest smile. It was the first time she had told someone else about the stars, and she felt her heart skip a beat. It felt good to let other people witness a snapshot of her life before things went to shit.

For a brief moment, Belle looks totally non-plussed, even a bit suspicious. As Alida continues, her countenance begins to soften, and it isn't too long before she's gazing wistfully at the sky, herself. She leans in close, as though sharing a secret, dark eyes sparkling under the neon lights and torches.

"My da had stories about the stars, too," she whispers softly. "They'll always be there for us, won't they?" She spares a moment to nod at her guards, then stands and plants a soft, lingering kiss on Alida's cheek. "Keep them near and close," she breathes in Alida's ear. "No matter how cruel the world can be, the stars will shine for us."

”You’ve Won A Prize!”
 
Bottled Love (Rarity). A small, dark red bottle with a spritzer on the top, it's an intoxicating fragrance that manages to be both warm and sweet. A little goes a long way, so don't bathe in the stuff.

| Alida Brandy | Lvl 1 | "a mix of zooey deschanel and the entirety of ww1" - Fom
| S:3(-1) P:8(+1) E:7 C:8 I:4 A:6(-1) L:3 | Hungry like the Wolf! - stat adjustments for 2 solos/tags
| +75 N'awlins |
| Pipe Rifle | Switchblade | Flintlock |
| Denizen of the Dark | Sex Appeal | Fast Learner |

| Mór-Ríoghain | Lvl 1 |
| S:4 P:8 E:8 C:4 I:5 A:3 L:8 |
| Hatchet | Handmade Bow (with arrows) |
| Hunter | Creep |
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Mr. Meta
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Really hates you
[ *  *  *  * ]
"O-Oh! He's your aide," Georgie took another look at Ms. Tovar de Pupo and felt a little silly for not immediately picking up on her sightless eyes. His perception picked up on the short nuances of her neck carefully darting her head at different angles to catch every bit of sound her ears could pick up; she was very hard of hearing. He was then introduced to a very gaunt girl. He sheepishly took her hand."Nice to meet you, Alida. I'm Georgie and this is Nia." He mentioned, introducing Nia. Nia shook hands with Alida.

"Huh, she's eager huh?" Nia made a little aside to Georgie as they followed the group to the series of carnival games. Nia pointed at the high striker off in the distance. "Hmm..." She scratched her little freckled chin. Georgie rolled up his sleeves and looked over his shoulder. 'He's got this!' was what she got from his eyes.

“HRNF!”

“Georgie-“

“N-no” He huffed “Nhobaby I gotthis.” Georgie tried again to lift the hammer up. “HURNF!!!” His face turned red and his knuckles turned white. With the hoist of his life he brought the hammer up and over his head…and further and further back over until he was on his ass. Nia burst out laughing. She helped him up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The classic high striker; built with its old wooden frame covered in splintery splendor rose before the both of them taunting Georgie like every bully he ever met.

“Awww, sweetie!” She beamed rubbing his back. Georgie tensed. She must’ve forgotten all the scratches she left behind. Georgie tried being a good sport, but he could keep himself from crossing his arms and clenching his jaw. “It’s okay, Georgie.” Before the carnival barker could ask if ‘the little lady would like to come up’, Nia hoisted the hammer one handed and rested it on her shoulder. She took two steps and brought it down with both hands.

[Strength 8]

A ding loud enough to make the barker flinch and draw turned heads rung forth from the bell.

"MUSTACHIO!" The strongman game belts out. "AHAHAHA!" The man in charge of the game gives Nia a brief nod of respect, then passes over a pair of handgrips.'

Quote:
 
Handgrips! - Designed with predominant strength in mind, squeeze these on a regular basis and your grip will match the strength of your downswing.


She caught the pair that was tossed to her. "Aw, sweet! It's like so hard to close!" She cheered, her current strength made her unable to make the two handles meet. She squeezed it a few more times and waved at Georgie. She polished an invisible pole in the air and gave him a wink. Georgie's spine tingled. Last thing his girlfriend needed was a kung-fu grip.

They walked close, hand in hand with Nia scanning the array of possible games before them. “Hey, there’s something you can ace.” Nia shrugged as she shoulder-pointed to a skill game.

Quote:
 
Jacob’s Ladder- Test your balance and try not to crack your head open. (agility)


Two rope ladders stand side by side at an upward angle, their wooden rungs swaying lightly in the breeze. Two friends are prepared to race to the top; they each get about three rungs up before the ladders twist upside down and dump them both to the ground. The man handing out prizes laughs, and scuttles to the top without using his hands, proving definitively that it can, in fact, be done. He makes his way back to the ground in the same fashion, then waits for any further takers.[/quote]

Georgie gave her the blankest glare he could’ve mustered. “…you tryna kill me? Again?”

“I-I just thought you had crazy luck! That shit is all luck. Alright, alright, ummm?” Nia darted her head around.

Georgie passed by the Belle. She met his gaze and bit her lip, then scanned him up and down. Georgie knew what that look meant. She didn’t smile, instead she cut her eyes in a way that stopped him nearly in his tracks and beckoned him with a finger. Like a dog with his tongue out he began in that direction. “W-what about that one.” He foolishly asked.

“Sure, lets do that, Angel Face. And right after I’ll tear you both in half. Maybe afterwards, I could sow you to each other’s lower bodies. That’d be hilarious!” She smiled and laughed but squeezed Georgie’s hand hard enough to make his knees bend.

“Y-you just don’t get my humor!” Georgie shrunk at the thought of his girlfriend tearing him in half because she could probably fucking do it!

“Mhm. Fine, okay…hmm…how bout that one? With the shapes?” She led Georgie by the hand to a table with strange object on it.

Quote:
 
Brain Tease- Metal puzzles (intelligence)

There are three strange-looking contraptions laid out, a tangle of entwined metal bars that somehow, you’re assured, will come apart with the right movements. You have ten minutes to separate and reattach them all- try not to blow a head-gasket in the process.


Nia stepped up first. “What the hell is this? This looks hard.” She scratched her head. “What about this one?”

Georgie shrugged as he walked up to the table. He squinted at the barker. “Ten minutes?”

"Ten minutes! But no one has been able to separate em’! No one!” Georgie looked down at the table. He handed the man two beads. “Alright, ten minutes starting….now!”

Georgie rocked in place for around four seconds. The next 20 seconds he disassembled each of the bars, reassembled them, and disassembled them again. Years of using his hands for fine electronics and training in tiny stitching allowed him a zen-like focus where everything lined up in front of him perfectly.

“Wait…was I supposed to…” He reassembled them. “Leave them like this? Or…” He disassembled them.

“Or maybe…” He disassembled the bars until they were just base rods, all in the span of now running on a minute in a half. “Listen, I’m sorry, I fucked up your toy. Here, lemme just…” Georgie huddled over and another 30 seconds later he held up a little structure. “See? It’s an eagle perched on top of a Christmas tree with a little candy cane hanging from it! Look! There’s even the base if you just sorta…hold this part up. Wait...If I can just make these rings…connect to…” He managed to get it to stand upwards on its own. “There.”
The carnival barker tried picking up his jaw but failed.

“What the fuck?” Nia scratched her head, dumbfounded.

“I know…eagles aren’t really Christmas animals are they?” The carnival barker and Nia stared at him, each with a raised eyebrow. “…Diiiid I do it in time?"

"What the..." the carny states eloquently, picking up the reassembled puzzle with a befuddled frown. "I...uh," he fumbles, then hands Georgie a rather thick book somewhat absentmindedly, still trying to figure out what's been done to his puzzle.


Quote:
 
Robotics 101- Everything you ever wanted to know about robots, and plenty you didn't know you didn't know.

Edited by Mr. Meta, Mar 5 2018, 06:55 AM.
Posted Image

Georgie Vallens
S.(2)|P.(8)|E.(3)|C.(4)|I.(10)|A.(3)|L.(7)
>>>Nia Romero
  S.(7)|P.(4)|E.(6)|C.(7)|I.(5)|A.(7)|L.(4)

Jeannie Clyne
S.(6)|P.(4)|E.(6)|C.(3)|I.(9)|A.(7)|L.(5)
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Cewebwalz
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Henshin a go-go baby
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Hornswaggler
Mar 4 2018, 12:45 PM
"Shut up." Thomas rubbed a hand over his face, unconsciously staring down at the lines across his palm when he pulled it away.

"Just sayin'." There was the hint of a sneer in the other voice as he added, "But she's not exactly wrong."

That was precisely the problem.
Jesse hadn't moved far from the tent, he now knew it belonged to one Madame Barlaving from the emblazoned script. The palm reader had gifted him something for his trouble besides gibberish, it had been his first priority to attach his newfound knifewrist, a rarity in the rest of the wasteland and a children's play thing in Crescent Top, judging that Jesse got it as a consolidation prize for some beads. It fit snugly on his wrist and was visible through his sweat drenched sleeve, which made it's value as a hidden weapon rather nonexistent.

A finger twirl and a blade shot out, extending to his finger tips. This was absurd, Jesse couldn't be trusted with this groggy or irritated, let alone shit faced. He wondered if the wizard was trying to kill him, or if she was just much less conscious of how drunk Jesse was then even himself was.

A fellow who looked more like a tourist than a local edged out of the tent behind him, the stranger was rather nervous and muttering under his breath. He was scraggly and shorter than Jesse, and he had a jumpiness to him that made him unapproachable. Most people would see someone looking a little deranged and move in the other direction, but Winters was having quite the afternoon already, and didn't want any bullshit fortune teller ruining someone's night.

Winters slurred, unable to get a proper greeting out of his mouth, before belting out a "Hey kid." Jesse was getting old, why was he and Slater the only ones out today older than 40? "Don't believe any of that Brahminshit." Winters lips twitched, eyes drawn to the other mans nifty, anxious footwork. "Venus and the stars don't know a thing about you. Taking a knife to carve lines in your hand won't change your future."

Jesse suddenly realized he was a bit cryptic, and soon this fellow would be running off if he didn't bring in some more evidence than the palm reader provided. The book in the mans hands didn't seem like it fit in, he figured it was shoved into his arms before he was kicked out of the psychic's booth. Winters unraveled his left sleeve suddenly, showing off his new toy. "She gave me this. I don't know how much she really knows, cuz.."

Winters dramatically unraveled his right sleeve to show off a intricate piece of gadgetry, larger and more technically elaborate than the one on his opposite wrist. "She was holding this hand, and didn't exactly notice this. Must be a long term future specialist, huh?" Jesse laughed, twisting and facing away from the man and back towards the cavalcade of pedestrians marching drunkenly from pub to pub, booth to booth. It was a beautiful night.
Jesse Winters - Penitentiary Pugilist
8(+2).5.7.5.5.8.4, Level: 4 -HC-

Grace Van Vliet - Indie Incinerator
5.7.7.5.5.4.7, Level: 3 -HC-
Quote:
 
Lmgthev:� Like tbh I agree CP is not the golden boy at all
Lmgthev:� You're like John Candy from Cool Runnings
Lmgthev:� Washed up has been who teaches the newcomers the trade� :D

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"What is Adderal, anyhow?" - Funky Fan
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FallenSanity
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I didn't even know I had this
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
OSIRIS' ODDITIES

Ellie couldn't help but grimace when she first saw the vendor of the strange little stall that Slater had led them too. She didn't take too long seeing that he was just in some makeup, but the trick was believable, and she had to give him props for that. She watched as Slater spoke to the bizarre man, rubbing her hands together a little - this sort of lottery was always fun, you never knew what you were gonna get, but you could always be halfway certain it'd be decent. And if it wasn't, chances are some pieces of shit waster would pay for whatever crap you got. She stepped forward, approaching the store as Slater stepped aside.

Osiris accepts the beads, then stares long and hard at Eli, steepling his fingers and tapping them together thoughtfully. He sits in contemplation for some time, the silence stretching out uncomfortably as his gaze roams the woman’s face. Just as it seems he doesn’t plan to speak at all, he shakes his head and leans in close. There’s a dry, dusty sort of smell about him, like old herbs in a long-abandoned room.

“You too have heard their voices, yes?” It’s obviously a statement rather than a question. “Many, so many gone, thrown away to arrogance and hatred; dangerous qualities in one man, blinding, deadly in many. I only wonder,” he cocks his head slightly, “do those that were lost to you whisper? For I, girl,” Osiris shakes his head, a flash of pity across his face, “hear only their final screams.” With that, he slides across the table a

Confederate pocket knife (RARITY)
 
The blade, three inches long, is pitted by time and wear, bearing a carved symbol of the Confederacy. Its blade has been honed back to a razor-sharp edge, but the tarnish in the metal is one that can never be fully buffed out. Those familiar with such stains will recognize it as blood.


“Now be off,” Osiris rubs briefly at his temples, “such a cacophony of suffering and terror is trying.”

---

DARTS

As Slater left the stall and he bizarre man, Ellie followed close behind, only stopping when she spotted the booth on the other side of the square, with a dartboard situated in the middle of it. She bit her lip and turned to call out, only to see Slater homing in rapidly on some weird food competition. She shrugged, set in her mind the need to catch up, and bolted towards the booth.

She was a sure fire with the right pistol, and she'd always trounced the other folks in basic training when it came to a round of darts. She was rusty now, but she had her fingers crossed that this would go well. Why she was so excited she didn't know, but she had to blame the alcohol. She slammed down two bead strands and cracked her knuckles as she began to set up for what she hoped would be either impressive, or awful enough to be noteworthy.

Her mind hazed over for a moment as she tried to remember how to play darts. She looked at the board to the side of the booth, reading the fairly basic instructions. The middle of the board... It didn't seem like the darts she'd played in the past, but she didn't really recall it too well. Regardless, Elizabeth straightened her back, held her breath, and let the first dart fly.

*thwump*

"A direct hit from the lovely lady in liver." Ellie entirely missed the last comment on the colour of her clothes, but then again she missed the whole thing; her focuses were now set on the dart board entirely. She took another deep breath, closing one eye and letting the second dart fly.

*thwump*

"Another hit...!" A few people turned to look at Ellie, only to avert their gaze again as they noticed what she'd done so far wasn't exactly groundbreaking. She huffed, shaking her head and body, trying to let herself be free of any stress or stiffness. She tuned out the sounds around her, fading into the silent, free world that she was in whenever her hand fell to her firearm. The world stopped for a moment, and Ellie moved as graciously as water, letting the third dart go.

*thwUMP*

The announcer went quiet, and eyes did begin to turn to Ellie, as she finally felt herself back in her stride. The alcohol had hit her hard, but her keen eyes, swift hands and modicum of luck were on her side right now. She let the fourth dart go immediately, letting the nature of the moment wash over her, looking like there was nothing in the world that could stop her now.

*THWUMP*

The announcer darted in front of Ellie, passing between her and the board, cutting her view for just long enough to throw her off. She blinked, and like a wave the sound around her came crashing down as she was thrown back to reality. She looked at her hand and saw the last dart, and the board, and then felt the eyes on her, including he looming gaze of the game runner. The ex-Confederate straightened up, bit her lip, and let the sounds in, hoping that maybe they'd help.

*thwuMP*

The dart soared, and landed directly on the edge of the target. There was a moment of silence until the announcer, swearing under his breath, turned to face Ellie and her small throng of fans.

She could vaguely hear something about "pointless weighting" grumbled as Ellie is handed a;

Bolas
 
A thrown weapon made of three weights on the ends of interconnected cords. The cordage is strong, but supple, each weight a steel ball, slightly bigger than a bottlecap. The traditional use is to tangle the legs of fleeing prey, but a solid knock to the head with one of the weighs is enough to incapacitate, or even kill, all but the thickest-skulled creatures.


The small crowd cheered, throwing their hands up and patting Elizabeth in celebration. The alcohol started to kick back in and she shook her head, looking up at the weapons she'd been given. They'd probably be good for hunting. She rubbed her head and laughed as the crowd around her cheered and applauded, drinking and slowly dispersing. She didn't know where to go or what to do, but she remembered Slater being near the food stand. She made a beeline through the crowd, her bolas slung over her shoulder, and her new knife tucked into her pants.
Edited by FallenSanity, Mar 5 2018, 07:10 PM.
Daniel Orton [HC]
Lvl 6: Copperhead Cook
Rep: -40 Eastern Texas, -250 Texas Rangers, +90 Crag
Equipped: Mirrored Sunglasses, Armstrong Hellcat Necklace, Raider Armour, Culture-Clash Jacket, Crag Swag (Jeans), Black Banana Hammock, Leather Belt, Desert Boots, Skullfucker, Death Knell, Combat Knife, Sharp Hatchet, Hannibals Haymaker, Pre-War Mountain Bike
Status Effects: Internal Parasite
Abilities: Sucker Punch
S:6 P:3 E:5 C:5 I:3 A:10 L:8

Elizabeth 'Eli' Stoudemire
Lvl 1: Humble Hobo
Equipped: Knife, Revolver, Coat
S:3 P:8 E:4 C:6 I:4 A:8 L:7

CP: FS has a bachelors degree in poor taste and a masters in bad manners

LD: Orton can be whatever Hamiltons version of The Nightman is

FP: fs youre like in a very minor minority where cauze youre autistic and gay and an asshole you can say any slur
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azstarael
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"Got a light?"
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Spike lost track of the people around him, stumbled back into the streets, and somehow wound up in front of a tall edifice, squinting at the surface suspiciously. It looked like the kind of challenge right up his alley, albeit he was usually at least sober enough to see straight when out scavenging.

“Wha’s th'deal, man?” He slurred at the fellow keeping watch over the rock wall. “Go up, yeah?” He received a rather dumbfounded look in return.

“You need two bead strands, then you climb,” he was told, “ring the bell, you win. But listen- Jesus Christ, are you serious?!”

Spike had managed to count out the required beads, was already a good ten feet off the ground, but paused briefly to squint down at the carny. “What?” he asked, forcing his eyes to focus.

“You’re too fucking drunk!” the man yelled up at him, mild panic in his voice. “Get down before you fall and kill yourself!”

“S’fine,” Spike told him flippantly, making his way a few feet higher as he did. “No’gunna fall.”

“Not again,” the carny pleaded to no one in particular. “Fuck me, fuck this stupid wall, why they ever thought it’d be a good idea for Mardi Gras-”

One rock after the other. Several spun at the lightest touch. Others provided barely enough traction for a split-second of movement. Spike, however, was well-versed in such obstacles, and had handled worse in a much more inebriated state. When a foothold went out from under him, leaving him hanging by one hand for a heart-stopping second, he vaguely heard several on-lookers cry out with equal parts shock and fear.

“S’fine!” he repeated, grinning down at the small crowd even as he picked another handhold. “Not even tha’drunk, gonna…later, but bell and…” He forgot where he’d been going with the statement. It didn’t matter. What did, was the bell that clanged loudly as he gave it a firm knock with one fist.

“I win?” he yelled down at the man, who was biting multiple fingers anxiously.

“You win!” came the reply. “Please, just get the hell down!”

“’Kay,” Spike muttered, more to himself than anyone observing. He saw the net, even if it was a little…swimmy. His arms were getting tired. He was very, very drunk.

With a wide grin, Spike let go, arms splayed out as he dropped. Wind whistled briefly in his ears. Multiple people screamed. He hit the net, bounced twice, then lay staring at the night sky in a stupor.

“Fun,” he muttered. “Nice wall. Guess I lied ‘bout the falling.”

knife bracelet
 
This bracelet wraps around your wrist like every other, but it's actually a knife on a piece of chord. Undo it for some casual cutting and stabbing fun, chances are this was more for survivalists than your average scav.
Spike, level 5 (Hardcore Mode)
S:4 P:9(-1) E:7 C:2 I:4(-1) A:10(+1) L:5
Perks
Finesse | Small Frame | Chem Reliant
Equipment:
Switchblade | Rudimentary revolver | x5 Throwing Knives (GC) | Scary Terry Knife Gauntlet
Armor:
Duster coat (Poor Condition)
Reputation
Bucket Town (-30)
Claw (Companion)
S:2 P:7 E:9 C:3 I:9 A:8 L:2
Perks
Jinxed | Hunter| Marksman
Equipment
Junk flinger | Kitchen knife (Poor Condition)
Armor
Desert Clothing (Poor Condition)
Nicholas Stahley, level 1
S.4 P.8 E.3 C.6 I.8 A.4 L.7
Perks
Improv Artist | Perfectionist | Fast Learner
Equipment
Homemade Shotgun | Zip Gun
Armor
Dirty Pre-war Clothes
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