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O'Boyle on a mission.; (Event quest part 2)
Topic Started: Jul 26 2009, 11:38 PM (1,524 Views)
Fniff
Member Avatar
Wastelander
[ *  *  *  * ]
(OCC I like how this Dejan isn't stupid,he's just young. Also,he's 16.)

Dejan was walking to the doc's with Caleb. His arm was itching. Something had bitten him in the night. Bloatfly was ruled out,his arm wasn't decorated with spiny maggots. Mosquito? Possibly.

Mutant bat? Very unlikely.

He also had been having weird dreams. He imagined he was suddenly in the day the bombs hit. He tried to warn the people in the dream,but they couldn't hear or see him. Then the bombs hit and everything was gone in a flash. Then he saw endless piles of rubble,skeletons and sad little makeshift houses that were falling apart. He then realized,He was in his personal hell,and woke up.

'' Caleb,what do you do when you wish you could warn the people who died when the bombs dropped? I'm sure you must have had a thing like that before." Said Dejan.
I did not get the plot of You Gi Oh.

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Solbur
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Creepy Old Lurker
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Sheck was still mulling over the incident with Caleb knocking over his dummy in his mind. The ghoul did not take very kindly to being made a fool of in public, and spent half the time on the way to the artillery guns plotting some elaborate scheme to get back at the Tribal. Pissing or maybe planting some nasty insects in his bedroll back at O'Boyle's camp seemed to be a tempting idea at the moment, but there would be the matter of actually doing it without being seen. And then there'd be the matter of an extremely pissed (possibly literally as well as euphemistically) Tribal trying to kick his ass in the aftermath if he was discovered. Eventually he decided he'd come up with some scheme at a later date. Staring into space for a while after that as he walked, he was snapped out of whatever he was thinking about at that point when Josef spoke.

"So, Sheck. What do you think of all this man? Like, were doing the right thing?"

Sheck turned to look at his mercenary compatriot and smiled faintly underneath his mask. So the junkie hired hand had a conscience. Who'da thunk it? Shaking his head briefly, he took a moment to honestly consider the man's question before responding

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, Benny-boy wants to be the towns' sheriff, which is exactly what I think this place needs, to be frank. I mean, when a mobster's influence is so great that he's actually being considered by the people for leadership of a decent-sized tradin' settlement like Bucket Town, then there's gotta be something wrong. People need a strong, decisive authority figure in this neck of the woods. Corotto only gives two fucks about himself and his little cadre of lackeys, maybe not even them, and Gerade's just a preacher, not a... y'know, not a "doer". He talks the talk, but don't walk the walk. See what I mean?"

Sheck trailed off after his rhetorical question, both to give Josef time to think about what he'd just said and to give himself that sort of time, too. Not about the context, but about the way he'd said it. He was honestly surprised how clear that had came out when his vocabulary was usually restricted to grumbles, grunts and curse-words, let alone something that well-orated. After the two of them walked in silence for a moment, he continued.

"If Corotto got into power, the people would suffer under his self-centred regime and his hired hands enforcin' his law. And you know the sort of hands he'd hire. And if Gerade called the shots, well, the people just wouldn't listen to him 'cause half the things out his mouth are "Praise the Lawd!" and all that shit. I honestly think that O'Boyle can give this town the stable, lawful and fair leadership it needs."

He paused as he considered how stable, lawful and fair O'Boyle's leadership might actually be. Sure, it'd be pretty stable, what with his idea of the law, but there'd be Corotto's thugs and Gerade's fanatic followers complaining, probably both vocally and physically. He'd never actually seen Benny's idea of implementing the "law" as he would as Sheriff first-hand, so he couldn't make any assumptions in regards to that. But fair? He'd seen his fair few of "sheriffs" in towns being despotical, egotistical tyrants in the time he'd been around the Wastes. O'Boyle didn't seem the type, but you never know, really. But still, he didn't know. O'Boyle seemed alright, and he wasn't being hired to question his employer's motives, anyway. Ah yeah. The pay.

"And plus, the pay's good-" he paused after that, thinking about how "good" a doll was as payment, but then he decided to roll with it anyway, "so who cares?" He certainly didn't. He wasn't planning on sticking around, but he knew that his conscience would give him an earful (if a voice in your head could give you an "earful") if his implementation in O'Boyle's scheme caused life in the town to go tits-up for the average Joe.

The guns couldn't be too far away now, Sheck noted, so he picked up his pace and motioned for Josef to do the same.
Success is the ability to go from one failure to another with no loss of enthusiasm.

Jonas "Sheck" Sheckley
Ghoul - Level 1 - 5-7-9-1-7-7-4
Traits: Night Person, Skilled
Equipment: Hatchet, Rudimentary Revolver, Wastelander Clothes
Inventory: Hides (1), dog meat (1), a strange ventriloquist's dummy (1)

Lanky, gruff old Ghoul scavenger wearing patchy waster gloves that cover almost every inch of him, opaque welder's goggles, padded rubber gloves and an odd choice of travelling companion. Say hi.
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Run4
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Iron Crow
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
"Ain't no sense in crying when the milk's already spilled. The bombs fell, get over it. If I could go back and change it, neither you nor I would exist boy. History's there to learn from, not to cry over. Sooner you catch on to that, the better off you are," Caleb said calmly. He didn't think much about the bombs. It happened, and he didn't want it to happen again. Fuck going back and preventing it the first time. That wouldn't work. Stopping it happening again was the possible outcome.

Caleb looked around, searching for any clutches of Corotto's enforcers, among whom Miguel may be hiding. Or who may be able to point him in Miguel's direction. He couldn't spot any so far, until he saw the man from the bar brawl sling away between the Doc's and another tent. Taking off at a sprint, Caleb was almost on top of the poor man before he knew what was going on. But the man had an amazing turn of speed on him, and he ran, passing Dejan out as Caleb and the young Arroyoan gave chase.

Sprinting through the tents, Caleb and Dejan relentlessly pursued the ganger as far as he could go. Around the back of Bobos. Caleb jumped at the man at the last second, landing an impressive chest-height gore-tackle, taking the man to thr ground. Again, the pair rolled and kicked and gouged in the dust and beer around the back of the swillhouse. Caleb landed a lucky headbutt as the man worked at pulling a knife. Extricating himself from the gangster's grip, Caleb laid into him, punching over and over until he dropped the switchblade.

"And that, little hunter, is how you catch a rat," Caleb said to Dejan. "Now, why don't you ask our new friend what he knows about Miguel? I don't think he'll be conscious for long if I do."
[align=center]Posted Image
HenchmenF
 
"Anyway. Then me and CP were like "Lul, wut?" and then Run had to step in and use his e-peen as a riot baton and then Doffa sorta left."

Caleb Wolff, Level 7 Tribal Ranger. (Inventory)
Jackal, Level 5 Glowing Ghoul. (Inventory)[/align]
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HenchmenF
Wasteland leader
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
As Josef and Sheck did a sort little jog over to the old arteilly guns, Josef looked around his side for anything usefull. So far, nothing really caught his eye. Well, he thought he saw a rather preety women and was about to stop when Sheck montined him forward. Grasping the handle of his chinese pistol for a moment, then slowly lossening his grip, Josef spund around slowly. If this guy was working for Corrto or whatever Italian name it was, they there had to be other goons around here somewhere.

Although a sterotypical picture of a guy in a fedro and tommy gun popped up in his mind, Josef did'nt see anybody that screamed "Mobster". Taking in a rather deep breath, Josef exhaled it through his nose. Something was'nt right. Like....like.....

Josefs thoughts were cut short when he could have swore he saw someone that looked like Corrtos thugs. Motniong Sheck to follow, Josef casually worked his way through the crowd and towards said Thug. All the while, Josef dug into his left pocket trying to get his switchblade out.
Jimmy Ronan
Karmichael Sandoval - HC -
Karmichael's current inventory

-----------------------------------------------------
The Wastes TV Tropes page. Open edit
Plat: If Hench is the monarch I'd willingly accept a life of serfdom.
CP: homie you a rauccous college student why you need a bed time
LMG: Hench is the real enemy of Democracy
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Fniff
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Wastelander
[ *  *  *  * ]

Dejan looked at the thug.

"Now. Where is Miguel?" Dejan asked.

"Won't tell you." The thug said.

"OK,then" Dejan grabbed the knife and aimed it at the thugs member.

The thug laughed.

Dejan started to bring the knife a bit closer.

"You might actually be scaring me!" The thug snorted.

Dejan got the knife a bit closer.

"OK,man,cut the shit"

Dejan brought the knife closer.

"What in hell are you doing?"

Dejan brought the knife closer,and closer until it was almost touching his dick.

"You never do it." Said the thug,sweating a bit.

Dejan slowly pressed against his dick until the thug screamed "OK! OK! I TELL YOU!"
I did not get the plot of You Gi Oh.

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Zilabus
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Er'ry day I'm overseein'
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(OOC: Dude, c'mon. A tough mobster would really have no reason to be scared of you, and wouldn't talk THAT easily.)

Suddenly, another figure stepped forward from behind. It wasn't hard to notice the one man being picked out of the group, and Corrotto had ordered everyone to stick with friends from now on. It was the right decision, seeing as how it just worked. "I don't know who you think you are. But you don't do that kind of shit in this town. And you certainly don't do it to one of my associates. I'll have you know your actions are violent and unwarrented, and if you don't leave right now, I will take you into custody under the authority of Frank Corrotto."

Multiple other figures stepped forward, most of them rather tough looking men and women. "We have reason to believe O'Boyle and his lot, that's you, participated in yesterdays riot, and now your openly threatening people in the middle of town. Not just reason to belive. A lot of people saw you. " He ran a wirey hand through his long black hair. He gestured to the one one top of another one of Corrotto's associates. "Now. You. You little bastard. Your the one who pulled a knife. You just made everything a lot more serious. That was a big mistake. Back off now. Or your going to end up dead."
Eli "Slim" Ambrose
SPECIAL: 3, 9, 2, 7, 9, 3, 7
Level: 5
Bucket town reputation: -175
Equipment
Weaponry: Molotov, Cherry bombs, Combat Knife, Laser pistol, Tack Mines, Smoke grenades, Syringes.
Armor:Post-war suit Tattered leather jacket
Inventory
Homemade shotgun, Gumballs, Bedspread
Mentats x3, Psycho x2, Jet x1, Wiskey x2, vodka
4 1/2 x Hides, 15 LSB dollars
Appearance
Caucasian
Very tall, lanky, and slim, jet black hair in a greased into a subdued pompadore style. Dark eyes and a cleanshaven face. Brown Windowpane suit.

Kelly "Featherweight" Capozzi
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Run4
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Iron Crow
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
"I told you not to fuck up and what did ya do kid? Ya fucked up big time. I said ask, and you pulled a knife. If we survive this, which I hope you don't, you keep at least five feet away from me at all times," Caleb snapped at Dejan. This kid had been getting on his nerves from the go, and now he'd gone and put them both in the firing line. Caleb's fists clenched at his sides, itching to pull his revolver. He was fast. But his revolver only kept five shots, not enough to do the job. And in this close, there was no guarantee he'd kill even five before the whole thing degenerated into a lynching for himself and Dejan.

"Look at him, he's a damn kid. He doesn't know his ass from his elbow out here. He thought it'd be a good thing to dick around acting the big guy. And your man here tried to knife me, see that knife down there. I was chasing him because he owes me hides. Do whatever you want to the knife-waving kid, but every last one of my weapons is stowed. If you all work with or for Miguel, I'd also like to apologize to him for a misunderstanding about that riot yesterday, where I may have hurt one of his friends quite badly," Caleb said, motioning "I'll knock you the hell out if you speak" when Dejan opened his mouth at the start of the talk. Now all he had to do was hope that speech worked. He wasn't good at convincing people to see things his way without an example, usually a show of force.

Caleb didn't much care what the mobsters would do to the maverick kid. He wanted to find this Miguel, rattle him a little, and get paid. If the kid got stabbed by a mobster, it meant a bigger payday for Caleb. And the kid's actions had pretty much hung them out to dry. Caleb folded his arms, using his arm to hide him opening the knot that held his M60's strap together. A shift of his shoulder and the beast would be in his hands if he had to waste a few mobsters. A reputation for killing gangsters wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He looked around at the mobsters, awaiting their response.
[align=center]Posted Image
HenchmenF
 
"Anyway. Then me and CP were like "Lul, wut?" and then Run had to step in and use his e-peen as a riot baton and then Doffa sorta left."

Caleb Wolff, Level 7 Tribal Ranger. (Inventory)
Jackal, Level 5 Glowing Ghoul. (Inventory)[/align]
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HenchmenF
Wasteland leader
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Josef was inside a alleyway that was once inhabited by Mobsters. Now, said mobsters were about to beat up, kill, or lynch the new dumbass and Caleb. He did'nt really care for the new guy, but, Caleb was somewhat of a associate. Inside his hands was a Switchblade, blade ready to go. Sheck was....somewhere. Josef had been following one of these mobsters when they appeared here. He quickly thought.

"To kill a mobster, or not to kill a mobster...." he muttered under his breath.

For one, if O'Boyle did lose the election anc Corroto won, Josef problay would'nt have a very good chance of coming back to Buckettown. Focusing on back to the group, Josef's plan came to a close. Taking a extermly small buzz of Jet, he stumbled on over to the group of mobsters.

"H-h-h-ey mannn, ya got some caps to spare a f-fellow? Come on m-man...." Josef said. Of course, now the mobsters were focused on him, giving Caleb enough time to do something. If the new guy did something....well...he was'nt helping.
Jimmy Ronan
Karmichael Sandoval - HC -
Karmichael's current inventory

-----------------------------------------------------
The Wastes TV Tropes page. Open edit
Plat: If Hench is the monarch I'd willingly accept a life of serfdom.
CP: homie you a rauccous college student why you need a bed time
LMG: Hench is the real enemy of Democracy
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Zilabus
Member Avatar
Er'ry day I'm overseein'
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
"Yeah. I can see that. Fuckin' kids got no respect. Think thy can do whatever the funk they want. No honor no nothing. This kids lucky. If I wasn't ordered not to, I would shoot 'em full of holes. Now, as for my associate here. I don't care if he owes you. He's with me right now. And I have to watch out for him. If he really screwed you, you can pull some of that tribal shit on him when he's alone."

"If your talking about the Miguel I think you are. He didn't have any friends in that fight, but he sure as hell got the shit beat out of him in it. Say sorry to him yourself." One of the group was noticably injured. His face was a mix of nasty bruises, his nose looked to be broken, and he had a limp in his walk. He was covered in new scars, and his hair seemed to have been cut randomly to sew some of them up.

"H-h-h-ey mannn, ya got some caps to spare a f-fellow? Come on m-man...."

The man turned, as did the rest of his group. "Who the fuck are you? Hands where I can see 'em! Shit!"
Eli "Slim" Ambrose
SPECIAL: 3, 9, 2, 7, 9, 3, 7
Level: 5
Bucket town reputation: -175
Equipment
Weaponry: Molotov, Cherry bombs, Combat Knife, Laser pistol, Tack Mines, Smoke grenades, Syringes.
Armor:Post-war suit Tattered leather jacket
Inventory
Homemade shotgun, Gumballs, Bedspread
Mentats x3, Psycho x2, Jet x1, Wiskey x2, vodka
4 1/2 x Hides, 15 LSB dollars
Appearance
Caucasian
Very tall, lanky, and slim, jet black hair in a greased into a subdued pompadore style. Dark eyes and a cleanshaven face. Brown Windowpane suit.

Kelly "Featherweight" Capozzi
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Run4
Member Avatar
Iron Crow
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(OOC:Right, seeing as how the last proper post was four days ago, I am breaking the post order. This is not an intentional godmod here, watch this video for what I intend. With this tune playing in the background)

With the gangsters distracted by Josef's timely arrival, Caleb shed his M60 and gunstock club to the ground. He stepped forward, his view focussing on the back of the talking gangster's head. Miguel was about to make an awkwards squawk, but a look from Caleb silenced him. Apparently, he was less than enthusiastic to wind up on the business end of the Tribal's punches again. He knew full well he was gonna face a second battering by Caleb, but he didn't want to be first.

Caleb, uncaring of the "dirty fighting" accusations it would entail, caught a fistful of the talking gangster's hair, pulled his head back and punched him savagely, once, twice, three times in the kidneys before the ganger's legs buckled. As he fell to his knees, Caleb punched him in the side of the head, the face, and then threw a final punch into the other side of his head, dropping him. Caleb ducked under a knife swing by another ganger as he shuffled back away from a bat swing by another. Right into the waiting arms of another gangster. The man grabbed Caleb in a half-nelson, pulling him back so the other gangsters could get a good run at him.

Caleb grunted under the impact of a gangster's boot. Then he threw his head backwards into the gangster's face, staggering him. Caleb headbutted again and again until the gangster's grip loosened, all the time, scooting him backwards to avoid the wild, but clumsy attacks of the others. The second that grip loosened, Caleb was free again. He grabbed the man behind him and shoved him into an oncoming gangster, staggering them both. Given the space that had gained him, Caleb threw a rare kick, straight into the kidneys of his erstwhile subduer. He followed through with a punch to the base of the man's skull, dropping him. The man dragged himself away.

Caleb stopped another attack by the bat-weilder, stretching his arms upwards and opening his ribs up for a few body-hooks to the stretched-out floating ribs. The crunches and screams the attacks elicited left Caleb in no doubt batman would take no further part in the fight. Caleb snarled as a knife entered his back just at his right shoulder blade. He shoved the now-benign bat swinger away as he staggered and dropped, the knife sticking out of his back. Caleb shuffled forwards, avoiding a kick to his ribs, but scrambling right into another. Caleb caught the third kicker under the boot and stood up, throwing her backwards.

Caleb then spun back towards another gangster, now bereft of his knife. Caleb landed a punch, ducked, and punched again. Both himself and the gangsters were all injured, but so far he had given better than he got. Until the man caught Caleb with a hook punch, splitting his lip. He reversed the ganger's next punch and responded with a diagonal uppercut that landed right on the tip of the gangster's chin, splitting it open and cracking his mandible in half as the tribals bludgeon-like fist connected with bone-shattering force. The gangster fell, out cold before he hit the dusty street.

Another one went at him with a nailbat, but Caleb got the distance just right, dodging her strike and stepping back in, grabbing her and swinging his knee upwards into her face. She fell and didn't get back up, screaming something barely coherent about Caleb breaking her nose. Just to be on the safe side, Caleb stamped her into unconsciousness. Now it was only Miguel, the man himself and Dejan had apprehended, and one other. Caleb reached over his shoulder, pulling the knife out of it. "Stupid move, stupid move Caleb," Caleb thought to himself, wincing and twitching as he eased the blade out of his back.

The ganger who hadn't wound up on the business end of Caleb's fists yet tried to rush the big, evidently wounded Tribal, who stabbed viciously down into his thigh, then slashed upwards across his face. Caleb then doubled the man over and slashed through his hamstrings. Letting the incapacitated gangster fall, Caleb threw the bloody knife into the ground and walked towards Miguel.

He grabbed Miguel's neck in a blood-slicked hand, and leaned in close to Miguel's face. To the others around him, Caleb looked mighty pissed, mildly injured, and utterly terrifying, blood leaking from his mouth, his hands shaking with Tribal rage. The truth was far less impressive, and far more realistic. After the stab, the punches and the kicks, Caleb was fighting to keep standing. So he did what any man ready to do violence would do if he was having trouble standing would do. While Josef and Dejan kept the other standing gangster at bay, Caleb swung Miguel around and pinned him to the ground.

"Now, Miguel, you're gonna answer any damn question me and my friends here ask, except for the kid, he's an idiot," Caleb snarled, spitting little globules of blood into Miguel's face as he spoke, his hand shifting from Miguel's collar to his throat for emphasis. "Now, we'll start with a little question about who you're working for and why they started a riot here in bucket town. So, you gonna answer, or do I have to make you?"

Caleb needed to make this quick so he could find somewhere quiet to sit down, patch himself up, and pass the fuck out.
[align=center]Posted Image
HenchmenF
 
"Anyway. Then me and CP were like "Lul, wut?" and then Run had to step in and use his e-peen as a riot baton and then Doffa sorta left."

Caleb Wolff, Level 7 Tribal Ranger. (Inventory)
Jackal, Level 5 Glowing Ghoul. (Inventory)[/align]
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HenchmenF
Wasteland leader
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Josefs jet started to wear off a little, almost to the point in which he could think straight. Which, one of the first thougts in his head was, well, where Sheck was. Pushing the new kid away when he started to get a little too...hands on with dealing with the prisnoers, Josef watched them instead. Which, was rather easy to do. Just kick then when they start to get up. Caleb seemed to be busy with Miguel, yelling about who started the riot and who was he working for. Josef looked at one of the gangster that was knocked out cold. Then, his eyes flicked on over to something on his belt. It looked like one of the pre-war dump-pouchs that soldiers used to put stuff in. If that guy had one then there must be something in there.

Jimmy Ronan
Karmichael Sandoval - HC -
Karmichael's current inventory

-----------------------------------------------------
The Wastes TV Tropes page. Open edit
Plat: If Hench is the monarch I'd willingly accept a life of serfdom.
CP: homie you a rauccous college student why you need a bed time
LMG: Hench is the real enemy of Democracy
Offline Mini Profile Goto Top
 
Run4
Member Avatar
Iron Crow
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(OOC: Seeing as how neither Fniff nor Solbur have posted in days, it seems I'm up again. Zil, you taking the role of Miguel?)

"Well, just gonna whimper there Miguel? Or are you gonna start loosening up that tongue?" Caleb said, pulling Miguel up towards himself until their foreheads were all but touching. Caleb was spitting a mix of saliva and blood with every word, his face twisted into a raging snarl, blood staining his teeth. There was a black eye forming and his ribs ached from being kicked. His hands and arms were throbbing from blocking several bat swings and that nailbat had cut his left arm halfway between his shoulder and elbow. The wound was shallow, but bleeding like there was no tomorrow.

He was in pain all over from that fight, but the fact that it was the gangsters in heaps on the ground and not him seemed to have scared Miguel into an incoherent state of twitching and gibberish. The most common whimper from Miguel was "Don't kill me...don't kill me". Caleb probably wouldn't kill Miguel. Not today anyway. But if Miguel kept whinnying and mewling on the ground, Caleb might have no choice but to pull a few of Miguel's stitches from his head sans anaethetic.

"Talk for God's sake!" Caleb snarled, shaking Miguel violently. Caleb grabbed the gangster's switchblade from the ground and started digging it into Miguel's cheek, just below his left eye. "You're gonna talk or I'm gonna skin you like a rat Miguel."
[align=center]Posted Image
HenchmenF
 
"Anyway. Then me and CP were like "Lul, wut?" and then Run had to step in and use his e-peen as a riot baton and then Doffa sorta left."

Caleb Wolff, Level 7 Tribal Ranger. (Inventory)
Jackal, Level 5 Glowing Ghoul. (Inventory)[/align]
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Zilabus
Member Avatar
Er'ry day I'm overseein'
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((My quest isn't going along, so I might as well. As for the Oldboy fight, well, it's often put up there with the best of all time. The only problem iswith fights between one person and a large group is they are unrealistic.. one or two people of the group attacking at a time or so.. although that paticular scene is wonderfully coreraphed and well done. ))

Things had been looking up for Miguel lately. Until now. This was not a good situation to be in, and he knew it. Trying to decide between dying now and dying later was very difficult. Suddenly feeling a blade jab into the side of your face on top of that was everything but helpful. The tribal hadn't gotten through without being hurt, in reality, he was bleeding and rather battered. On a good day Miguel might have been able to give him a run for his money.

Today wasn't a good day.
"You're gonna talk or I'm gonna skin you like a rat Miguel."
The Tribal didn't seem to be helping it any either.

"Ahhh! Stop! Shit! Ow! Ow! Back up you bastard! Shouldn't you be out banging rocks together or something! Your gonna end up dead for this! I'm probably gonna- UGH! QUIT DIGGING INTO ME!" He tried to back away, but he had nowhere to back up to. "I don't know who did it, or why! I was just there! I didn't start no riot! You gotta believe me! Back off already!"
Eli "Slim" Ambrose
SPECIAL: 3, 9, 2, 7, 9, 3, 7
Level: 5
Bucket town reputation: -175
Equipment
Weaponry: Molotov, Cherry bombs, Combat Knife, Laser pistol, Tack Mines, Smoke grenades, Syringes.
Armor:Post-war suit Tattered leather jacket
Inventory
Homemade shotgun, Gumballs, Bedspread
Mentats x3, Psycho x2, Jet x1, Wiskey x2, vodka
4 1/2 x Hides, 15 LSB dollars
Appearance
Caucasian
Very tall, lanky, and slim, jet black hair in a greased into a subdued pompadore style. Dark eyes and a cleanshaven face. Brown Windowpane suit.

Kelly "Featherweight" Capozzi
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Run4
Member Avatar
Iron Crow
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(OOC: I understand what you mean about fights, I've been in enough myself. Hence why Caleb got stabbed and quite brutalized.)
[align=center]Posted Image
HenchmenF
 
"Anyway. Then me and CP were like "Lul, wut?" and then Run had to step in and use his e-peen as a riot baton and then Doffa sorta left."

Caleb Wolff, Level 7 Tribal Ranger. (Inventory)
Jackal, Level 5 Glowing Ghoul. (Inventory)[/align]
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HenchmenF
Wasteland leader
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
OOC: I'll just do a quick little post....

Josef, standing up after rummaging throgh the guys dump-pouch, glanced over to Caleb. Miguel still seemed to be sputtering out that he had nothing to do with the riot. Walking over and tapping Caleb on the shoulder, Josef incadited to let him have a crack at Miguel. Which, Caleb did. Caleb and Josefs interogation styles where a bit differnt. Caleb seemed to go for the more shake him around, act theranting. Josef was hands on.

Punching Miguel in the face, Josef pulled back his punchs. Although terrible, it was somewhat scary. Slugging Miguel in the face agian, and then agian, and the agian, Josef grabbed Miguel by his shirt and brought him somewhat closer, Josefs right arm cocked back for another punch to the face.

"Now, Mr. Miguel. I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed, but, a gut feeling is telling me that *you* had something to do with the riot. So, we can do things one of two ones. Numero 1, i can just countie to punch you, throw you around, give you back to Caleb. Numero 2 is that you squeal, and we let you live. Or, we could do antoher possible option, which is go back to O'Boyle's campstite and let the rest of the hunters take a crack at you. Sound like fun, don't it?"

Josef said, punching Miguel agian for good measure.
Jimmy Ronan
Karmichael Sandoval - HC -
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