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A caravan arrives.
Topic Started: Aug 15 2009, 03:22 PM (1,538 Views)
Munk
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One-Man Conga Line
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Hagan was frustrated. No way he could outbid them now. He hung around anyway. Maybe something else would be auctioned. If not most of these other bidders looked too scrawny to survive in the Wastes. He'll just pluck the shit off their body, after they get stomped to death by a Radroach. This made Hagan chuckle to himself.

He didn't retract his bid but he didn't think he'd win either.
"Christ. I didn't think everyone in town was so goddamn rich."
Andrew Hagan, Level 6, BTR: +40
Weapons:Switchblade (Concealed) Hunting Rifle (GC), 10mm Pistol (PC), Hunting Knife, Homemade Flamer (GC)
Armor: Reinforced Leather Vest, Repaired Blue Jeans
Currency: 2x Normal Hides, 1x Large Hides

Tack Morgan, Level 3, BTR: -50
Weapons: "The Neurolizer" (Teir Two - Laser Rifle)
Armor: Arena Denim (Teir One - GC)
Currency: 0


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Orion The Free
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Tired Traveler
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Orion had sat down on the roof he was on. Nothing of any great import was happening down at the auction, just more bidding and angry faces, nothing unusual. He looked up at the sky and stared at the few opaque clouds that hung and drifted in place. He continued to gaze at the clouds for quite some time, that is, until he heard a noise that snapped him back to reality.

Orion stood up and instinctively aimed his crossbow... only to find air. The noise had only been a whisper, a soft noise that flew on the wind. He may have had bad eyes, but his ears had never played tricks on him before. Regardless he knew that he had heard something. He hadn't heard it in a long time, at least, not said like that. The wind, the whisper, whatever it was had said only one thing...

"Orion."...
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"What's that you see? A wasteland? No. What I see is the most beautiful thing in the world. I see a new beginning, a clean slate for humanity. A time to forget our past and begin again."
Orion "The Free" Keagan
Notable Features: Yellow Eyes, Duster, Large scar on left side of the face.

The Count: 0
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Zilabus
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Er'ry day I'm overseein'
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((OOC- Rad King was in it to win it.))

"I'll be damned! You sure are looking to get this thing, aren't 'ya? Well I don't blame you buddy! This is a high quality weapon. Light and easy to use, plus adapted for handgun rounds... great weapon for salvaging." The trader paused. He was hoping someone else would put in a bid, and with any luck, the blond man in black would throw in his pre-war hat. That style was all the rage back in Nashville.

"Alright man, it's all yours." He handed off the light rifle with little hesitation. He'd wished he'd had more of that kind of weapon. Obviously, it was a big hit around here. He went back to the back of the wagon. "Hey! You guys got anywhere we could hitch up at? Or can we just set up right here in the street!" As he spoke he busied himself with untying various knots. In a second, he raised up a tall protective barrier of chain-link on two sides of the truck bed.

((That's all there is to it ya'll.))
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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Radiation King
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"We can't stop here! This is bat country!"
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Darrel accepted the carbine when it was haned to him, and reluctantly relinquished the tin of .32 rounds he had been carrying. There was a dozen rounds in it, just like he had said, and another tin containing about twenty-five was in his other pocket. He relinquished the Jet inhalers with a shrug- he had never smoked, never really felt the need- and finally, reluctantly, handed the trader the canned beans and crank radio.

"Thanks much," the thief said with a grin, "great doing business with ya."
Darrel Cohen, the smooth-talking "Gentleman Thief" (Level 3)

Evan Laramie, the down-home gunslinger (Level 1)
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Zydrate
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Vault dweller
[ *  * ]
Milo eventually broke from the crowd. Without any reason to continue to be near the auction he returned to the roof with Orion. He had an odd look in his eye.

There he was in somewhat of a battlestance with his custom crossbow pulled up toward the sky. He seemed paranoid, but in a very subtle way.

Milo returned to his prior responsibility and fixed his eyes on the horizion and pulled a 360 degree angle sweep. Nothing really going on. "Maybe those signbacks didn't follow the caravan, huh?" Milo suggsted hopefully.
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Milo Rush

Special: 2.8.2.8.8.10.2
Traits: Small frame, Skilled
Level: 1
Karma: 0
Equipment
Armor: Sleeveless duster
Weaponry: 2x M1917, (2x Rudimentary) Makeshift Shank (Kitcken Knife)
Inventory: (In Sachel) Misc collected items, Metal Scraps, Water Bottle, Ammunition, Small Hide.
General Description: 15 years old, 5'4, only about 140 lbs. A highly perceptive, witty, and dextrious marksman.
Milo Rush's profile,
Milo's Theme Song
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OvaltinePatrol
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Scavenger
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Elvis watched the commotion from afar, he was fairly confident that trying to muscle his way through would result in him jabbing somebody in the eye with his elbow or otherwise starting an unnecessary ruckus. He'd kept a low profile, muttering just enough of a greeting to anyone who approached him as not to offend as he tended to do.

He was interested in the handwaved aspects of the caravan master's stories, the man had admitted to promoting a panic for personal gain and then warned everyone of approaching danger and the need for them to buy things. He would have called the man out on it, but the town seemed desperate for outside news and goods, so he thought better of it.

I really need to figure things out around here, he thought to himself, if I'm ever going to get on with my life.
Suvarna Vishnavi: Level 3. S:4 P:4 E:4 C:8 I:9 A:5 L:7. 24 y.o. female of Indian descent, usually covers up as much as possible.
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