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| "Encourage fornication!"; Final event mission. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 10 2009, 07:18 PM (1,798 Views) | |
| Zilabus | Oct 16 2009, 09:31 PM Post #46 |
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Er'ry day I'm overseein'
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Eli grabbed his hand and supported a bit of Keagan's weight, helping him get back onto his face. "You known Eli, its not a sign of weakness to fall..." He shifted his weight upward. " its only a sign of weakness if you fail to get back up again..." Keagan finally stood up straight, and looked right into Eli's eyes. "I want you to remember that." Eli stared straight back at him. "I will, Mr. Keagan." He thought to himself for a second. "I don't get so caught up in that kind of sentimentality though. Better to just not let them get back up at all." Hagan stepped in with a rather crude looking crutch, and Keagan took it to help support his weight. "Come on you guys, we've got shit to do." Eli smiled. "That's what I like to hear! We're making it to that girl you where talking about, or at least, this tribal heap today if it kills me. Don't fall behind." Eli tried to pick up the trail again, and then looke back to their new companion, Ella. "Hey, sweetie. I assume you can handle yourself, yeah?" He ran over to a paticular dead body. He pulled a sharply curved blade out of it's hand, and tossed it at her. "This is the best weapon in your whole group. Take care of it." ... The sun was starting to fall, and the group had been at the trail for quite some time. It had become rather obvious over the course of the trip that both the girl Keagan was looking for and the tribal camp where roughly in the same location. It made Eli uneasy. He wasn't sure about his companions, but he'd personally counted three seperate ocassions where he saw a figure on the horizon. If they had wanted to kill the group, they probably already would've at this point. "We should be getting pretty damn close here. Keep your guard up more then usual. These guys are supposed to be set up in a sort of big car-fort on top of an overpass. Pretty well protected, from all directions. In the distance, Eli saw a single wrecked car flipped upright, supported by braces and cables. Atop it crouched a single man, armed with what apeared to be a rifle. He held up one hand as if waving them in. |
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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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| Munk | Oct 18 2009, 08:17 PM Post #47 |
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One-Man Conga Line
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Hagan didn't hear much of what Eli said to Keagan. All he knew was that Eli had thrown Ella a very sturdy, very sharp bone scimitar. Hagan was unsure about that. Very unsure as a matter of fact. He trusted Eli's instinct's to a degree and knew that if shit went down this little gal didn't have a chance but he was still nervous. He made sure that Ella walked in front of him. ........... The walk was uneventful and Eli prattled on about some car fort or something. Hagan only started to pay full attention when they came to what seemed like a guard post. It was old Highwayman flipped onto it's left side. It was braced with cables and brackets and beams for support. On the top crouched a man, his chesnut hair was wild and his wiry arms skillfully weilded a bolt action rifle. The man wordlessly waved them past. On the other side of the makeshift barricade, He saw a tall chainlink fence. It led like a chute up an old freeway ramp. As he walked up it became apparent to Hagan that they were a good thirty feet off the ground and quickly climbing. At the top another man sat behind a tire and sandbag barricade. Behind him Hagan could see a sprawling camp full of hustle and bustle. On all sides it was surrounded by the remains of rusting cars. They were stacked up into wall and must've provided a great level of protection for the inhabitants. The people inside seemed normal but they were mostly definitely tribals. The camp seemed friendly towards this new group of strangers but first they had to get past the second guard. This one sat at the very top of the ramp behind a tire barricade. His clothing was simple but sitting next to him was a terrifying weapon, a hand-held concrete saw with a large circular blade. Hagan wasn't sure what the guard used it for but he knew enough to avoid any confrontations with this intimidating man. ((Short post. Not feeling very well, a little better but still not good.)) |
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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 | Oct 19 2009, 08:45 PM Post #48 |
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Tired Traveler
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... "We should be getting pretty damn close here. Keep your guard up more then usual. These guys are supposed to be set up in a sort of big car-fort on top of an overpass. Pretty well protected, from all directions." Eli stated. That was good news. They had been wandering in the desert for quite some time now and pretty soon they would need supplies. Not to mention some proper medical treatment for his leg. Luckily, the car fort the Eli mentioned wasn't to far away. Within a realitively short amount of time (for wandering in the middle of nowhere), the front gate of the fort was in plain view ahead. As they grew closer the guard that was attending the gate saw them and instead of shooting them or asking "Just who the fuck are you?" he simply wave them on in. The car that acted as the gate was raised and accompanied by the sounds of metal grinding against metal and the moans of the old decrepit lifting mechanism. For whatever reason everyone in the group continued to go inside without asking any questions what-so-ever. Which was perfectly understable given the current situation. Once on the other side of the gate there was a passage made of chainlink fence. Presumably another defensive measure; an transition area for outsiders. This lead up the overpass that Eli had mentioned. Orion noticed that Hagan was intrigued or worried about the environment as he was looking back and forth from place to place. At the top of the overpass was a barricade made from sandbags, tires, and a few other miscellanious items as well. Behind it sat a man who had the look of someone of great importance. Of course, it could also have something to do with the wicked looking saw of some construction or another. "Alright Eli, this is your show." He said quietly to Eli. He could only hope that Eli knew what he was doing because otherwise they were all probably dead. |
![]() "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 | Oct 20 2009, 08:04 PM Post #49 |
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Er'ry day I'm overseein'
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Eli half-waved back, and continued forward with the rest of his group. It was a pretty standard policy to have a sort of outpost like that. No need to have him go and process newcomers, but it was good to keep an eye out in the surrounding area of a nice sized settlement like this one. The single tribal held a battered bolt action rifle, which spoke some for how well equiped the rest of the tribals would likely be. As they moved ahead, they where allowed withen what appeared to be the first line of defense for the makeshift village. They walked nearly silently, but upon seeing the old mechanical contraption they had working to open the large entrance, Eli smiled to himself. The system they used to lift the big sliding door did a thousand times more work then it needed to. As they continued on, the where ushered through a rather long pathway, bordered on both sides by salvaged chain link. It went rather steeply up, along the incline of the overpass that the tribal encampment stood. It was a very well fortified and thought out settlement, and put Bucket-town to shame in terms of defensibilty. The only downside, from what Eli could see from his current location anyways, was the fact it was far more cramped and compartmentalized. There was little more then room enough for two people to walk through the spaces between most of the different huts. hovels, and stands. As they neraed the end of the chainlink passage, the real gatekeeper made himself obvious. He wore simple padding for clothing, which had the deul purpose of being light armor. Oh yeah, he also had awicked looking skillsaw blade jerryrigged on top of a pole, and a rough looking face covered in scars. He was there as an intimidator. From behind him, Mr, Keagan broke the silence. "Alright Eli, this is your show." For a second, Eli thought maybe he'd gotten in a little over his head. Then, the standard tribal prejeduce kicked in, and he realized he'd probably end up talking circles around a bunch of dumb-as-rocks tribesman. He looked back. "If he looks like he won't let us in, flash some of your best equipment and goods. A little extra encentive, yeah?" He turned back and cleared his throat only to be immediatly by the 'clerk' standing before them. "What're your names, what's your business, and what're your affiliations?" It might be easier to get in then Eli thought. "You can call me Mr. Ambrose. These are my associates Mr. Keagan, Mr. Vladstov, and Mr. Hagan." He gestured at them as he spoke. "What about the girl?" Eli looked over at Ella. It might be a bad idea to call her a servant, or say she was at a lower level then the rest of the group. He quickly made up a last name, and said it confidently. "Another associate of mine. Mrs. Huddy." He smiled and tried to look harmless. The clerk didn't flinch. "Business?" Eli thought about how to answer for a split second. "We've got goods and skills to trade. We can help repair equipment, and we've got a good bit of useful items with us. We work for a man named Corrotto, and he's given us quite a bit of weaponry and other useful odds and ends. We need to see slaves, or captives, or whatever. Female ones. We'll pay good. It'd also be helpful to have a little medical assistance, if avalable. We'll pay good for that, too." The guard just nodded. "I'll give you one day. Cause trouble, and you die. If you want to see some girls, I'll round them up for you. Here. Follow him, and he'll bring you inside the gate and to the holding pin." He gestured to another tribal, who waved them over. It looked like they where in. Eli knew any captives they had would probably be raiders, which meant they might be a little more beaten and scarred then your average woman. Eli didn't know what to expect, and it looked as though they kept the slaves in some sort of pit or cell under the overpass. ((Long post, so I'm ending it there. Feel free to describe the slave pin, and the slave woman, however you want. I'd say a good number of female slaves would be 15 or so. That'd boost the population of buckettown, and even out the guy to girl ratio there by a lot. Just do whatever feels right to you. Also, feel free to go into trading for them, getting more treatment for Orion, or getting a room for the night at the camp if you want.)) |
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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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| Munk | Oct 22 2009, 08:43 PM Post #50 |
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One-Man Conga Line
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Hagan watched as Eli talked their way into the tribal camp. It was impressive no doubt, but the intimidator at the gate let them in only after he made sure they knew their place. Hagan made note of the man’s terrifying weapon, and the way the camp was set up with guards posted on almost every corner. These tribals were no dummies when it comes to security and were not to be trifled with. Hagan walked with the others behind the man who would guide them to the slave pens. He walked them through the camp, nimbly cutting through the thin alleyways and narrow paths. Hagan was having more trouble than he was and had too apologize quite frequently for bumping into people. He started to get in the rhythm of things when the tribal guide stopped. He pointed and spoke. “There.” His voice was much higher than Hagan had expected for a man his size. He snickered a bit and looked to where the guide was pointing. Another much smaller part of the overpass stood apart from the one they were on. It was now nothing more then a small island. It was connected to the main part of the overpass by a makeshift rope bridge. On the side they stood on two guards were posted and another three were guarding the small island. Hagan was nervous, he had always hated bridges. They provided almost zero cover and you were venerable to attacks from below, front, back and above. A bridge was a death trap. Hagan started his rather unsure walk across the bridge. The boards and roping it was made from seemed thick. Hagan looked over the side and could plainly see the thirty foot drop. Below him was the rubble of the overpass, where decades ago it fell apart leaving only the small island and the larger area that would become the tribal camp. The guide didn’t cross the bridge with them instead they were greeted by a new guide on the other side of the bridge. He was actually very short, he looked almost 5’0 even and looked even shorter when standing next to Eli the Giant. His face and body were badly sun damaged , his skin very tan with tattoos running in black ink up his arms and shoulders. Brown hair hung damn-near to the small of his back and with a beard that seemed almost as long, he was truly a strange looking man. “Follow me. I’m Jabbok the Slave Master. I’ll lead you to the pens.” He spoke in very plain words. His voice was low but not gruff. Hagan followed without question. The slave pens were simple four walled cells. The back, left and right walls were made of wood with the front-most wall made of chain link. Hagan passed many cages and noted that only six slaves were in any one cage at a time. “We keep the men and women separate. What are you boys looking fer?” Jabbok asked from the front. “Women.” “Ok and one more question.” Jabbok said as they continued walking. “Are you looking for work slaves or sex slaves?” Hagan felt a little strange about that question. “We have a choice?” He asked. Jabbok stopped and turned around. He made big gestures with his hands and his furry eyebrows moved with grand expressions. It was like he was selling products on those light night commercials Hagan remembered. “Of course you have a choice! We have only the finest slaves here. We breed them that way. That’s why we keep the men and women separate, can’t have them fucking each other all willy nilly. If we need more work slaves we breed the strongest men with the strongest women, but iffen we need sex slaves we breed the prettiest women with the most handsome men. The children are more beautiful and strong than the parents could ever hope to be! It’s call selective breeding and very advanced considering the times we live in.” Hagan didn’t like the idea of people being bred like that. There was something so inhuman about it. “You breed them? You don’t collect slaves from the wasteland?” Jabbok seemed pleased to answer the question. He clearly enjoyed the barter game and probably had many years of experience selling slaves. His voice was charismatic and he had an endearing quality despite looking like a side show attraction. “We do collect them, yes. We wouldn’t make much money if we had to wait years for the children to grow up. So we collect raiders and other tribals and anyone else we can get our grubby little hands on. Those slaves are much cheaper than the ones we breed for the purpose but I can’t guarantee their quality. Would you like to see them as well?” “Yes, Jabbok I believe we would.” “Ha-ha! Excellent! Come this way then.” The little man with the big personality took an abrupt left turn and walked a little ways more. Hagan was shocked that any one could find their way in this maze of cells and pens. It was tightly packed with tracks and paths leading in seemingly random directions. Jabbok lead them with skill and a memory of which paths to take. As Hagan passed the cages we began to see what Jabbok meant. Some slaves were as big as Roy, others were pretty and delicate like a model. They were impressive but made Hagan wonder. “Hey Jabbok?” He called up. “Yes? What is it?” “I’ve noticed that some of these slaves are built like wrecking machines. Aren’t you worried that they might be too strong and escape?” “No. not at all.” He was vocal but continued walking without looking back. “Remember when I said we breed them? Well that means that we also raise them in these cages. This is the only life they know. Hell sometimes it’s difficult to get them to leave with the people who buy them. Truth be told, we have much more trouble with the people we pick up in the wastes. Those sneaky bastard try to escape daily. They always fail of course.” “You mean you’ve never had a single escape? I find that very hard to believe.” “Oh believe it. Our security has been designed by Helios, our chief officer. I assume you met him. He’s the one that sits by gate and lets visitors in. Scary fucker with a scary ass saw but he’s good people. Anyway, I don’t feel comfortable describing our security with strangers. I’m sure you understand.” Hagan did and soon Jabbok came to a stop and said. “These are the pens where we keep our non-bred female slaves. Careful they’re a little cranky. ” Hagan saw four pens before him, each filled with women. Hagan looked in the cages and had the strange sensation of being at a butcher’s counter picking the best slabs of meat. Which girls they picked would be a very important decision. ((I don’t feel like describing 15-25 different women so I’ll leave it to one of you two.)) |
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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 | Oct 25 2009, 08:59 AM Post #51 |
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Tired Traveler
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While the rest of the group was guided toward the slave pens, Orion decided that his services were not needed, after all, Eli seemed like the kind of person who could make a buisness deal. Although Hagan... well, Orion still wasn't to sure about Hagan. He seemed mentally unstable during combat (and not in the good way) and had been acting suspicious as well... He couldn't let things like that get to him. Hagan would have to wait until later, and if it came down to it, he would kill him if he had to, because that was simply the way things worked in this reality. Orion had found a way down from the overpass on the form or an old metal spiral staircase. He had asked one of the locals were he could get some proper treatment for his leg wound and he was currently looking for the "shiny metal sign" that was supposed to indicate this place. "Damn it." he said to himself. "Where is this place?" he looked around only saw more of the same, some old military tents, a few metal shacks, and the occasional market type stand. Oh, and the looks. Of course, how could one forget the looks. Its not very often a well fortified place in the middle-of-fucking-nowhere has a visitor quite like himself. I mean, how many people do you know that where a duster, use a crossbow, and have yellow eyes? After a few more minutes of hobbling around aimlessly, he saw what appeared to be a "shiny metal sign", although it wasn't all that shiny. He hobbled over to it and upon closer inspection, saw that it was a mirror, it wasn't shiny due to the fact that it was later in the day and the sun wasn't as high in the sky. Orion gazed upon his own reflection, he examined his face, how aged it looked. What with his facial hair and scars, he looked a lot older than he actually was. He had lost track of time, by this point he couldn't even remember how old he was, mayb 19,20, hell maybe even 22 for all he knew. Sometimes he questioned who he really was. Sure he knew his name and his beliefs, but when your missing a large chunk of your memory, you always question who you are or were. "Medical help you need?" an old voice said from inside the tent that the mirror was outside of. The voice actually caught Orion off guard and he almost jumped at it. He perred inside the open flap of the tent but couldn't make out anyone inside it, the light outside was throwing off his vision of what was inside the dark tent. Against his better judgement he walked inside the tent. Inside the tent was a variety of things, a couple of beds made from assorted matierials, hides on the walls, some meds and other chemicals. However, there was no old man that the voice could have come from, instead there was a middle-aged man who looked very much not like an old tribal shaman as one would have expected. Instead this looked very much like a traveling merchant one would find out on one of the caravans. He was muscular, wore armour made from hardened leather, and had the look of a man who knew what he was doing. "Gotcha." he stated. "I do that little backwards talking old guy think to freak out the peple that come through here. Name's Ben... and you are?" he asked intuitively. "I'd rather not say Ben. Not comfortable giving my name out to people." orion responded rather plainly. "Ah, well, I suppose that's perfectly understandable." he said rather disappointedly. "Oh well. Anyway, what have you come to my little slice of hell for anyway?" he asked clapping his hands together. "For this." Orion said pointing at his leg. "Ah. May I ask what happened?" he asked with a little bit to much interest. "Damn cannibal speared me when I knocked somebody else out of the way." "Well have a seat over hear on this 'bed', if you could call it that." he said motioning to one of the straw beds. Orion sat down on it and immediately understood what he ment. You might as well have been seating on a concrete block with how stiff the straw was. Ben started gathering up different little things around his tent. "So were you trying to be the Hero or what?" he said as he was busying himself around the tent. "Excuse me?" Orion asked after a few seconds. Ben looked over his shoulder and said "When you took the spear, you mentioned you knocked somebody else out of the way. Soo, I'll ask again. Were you trying to be the Hero?" "Honestly I don't know. I don't know. I just reacted when I saw the guy standing there." "Not a very smart thing to do there friend. Playing Hero will get you killed real fast out here." Ben said as he was walked over and knelt down next to Orion's leg. "Thanks smartass, I'm quite aware of that." Orion responded, annoyed. "Calm down now friend, I was just saying. Now anyway, let's have a look at this wound here." he said as he began to undo Eli's battlefield doctoring. "Well now this here doesn't look to bad. Both the wound and the treatment. Who did it?" he said examining both the wound and Eli's handy work. "One of my traveling comapnions. Not the one who's ass I saved by the way. I pretty sure that guy has some issues." "Oh really like what?" "Some mental issues I believe. In the middle of the fight he just froze up and began to kind of mumble to himself." "Interesting." Ben began to examine the wound itself. "Alright, well, I an clean that out again for free but the stitches are gonna cost ya'." "Whatever, I'm sure I have something you want." "You most certainly do." he said in a slightly creepy way that made Orion a little uneasy. "What? Are you going to try and rape me? Or kill me and eat me?" he asked defiantly. "Ha ha! No nothing like that. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." he laughed as he poured some water into a cup and began to light a small fire under it. "So what's your story Ben? You don't seem like a tribal." Orion inquired. He was curious how such a friendly person came to be the medicine man in a tribal camp. He had seemed friendly thus far so chances are he'd be more than willing to share. "That's because I'm not. A very unlikely set of circumstances allowed me to become this tribes 'shaman', you see I just happened to be the medic on a caravan that was stopping by here for some ammo and other little fiddly-bits. Well it just so happened that their shaman had succumb to some disease or another and he didn't have a replacement. While the tribals here could treat basic wounds, they didn't have to know-how to remove bullets and apply casts and splints and things like that. So the powers that were at the time, felt that it was in the tribes best interest to hire me as their shaman/medicine man/ doctor or whatever you want to call it. So I decided to stay." he then looked down and saw that the water was now boiling. "Ah! Looks like I can get started." Ben sterilized a needle and thread and began to clean the wound as well. Which was still tender and of course it still hurt like hell. After all, if Orion could go without pain killers, why waste goods getting them? "Alright, now I'm going to close up this wound. This is gonna hurt a bunch. You sure you don't want anything for it?" "Yeah, I'm sure what we had to do it the field hurt a whole hell of a lot more." and with that Ben began to stitch the wound close, which as he said, hurt like hell, but Orion fought through the pain none the less. "All right, all done, your all stitched up, and I went ahead and put a bandage on it. Now you just lay there on that nice comfy brick for a little while." he said after a little while of working on it. Orion did as he was told. He layed down on the little brick of a bed. Although as uncomfortable as it was, Orion still felt as though he could go to sleep. It had been so long since he had actually just stopped and rested. It seemed like he had been constanly doing something for the longest time now, like he had been running his whole life. Then, he drifted off to sleep. He stood in the middle of a vast desert, in front of him was a gravestone. The name long since worn away by time. Around him were the shadowy silhouettes of at least a half dozen people, all of their features completely hidden in darkness. Suddenly, Orion was standing outside of a town that seemed oddly familiar. He could see more figures standing in front of him, two that were directly in front of him seemed to be arguing and behind him were at least two dozen figures running toward the town. One of the figures reached out and touched the other one, who proptly faded away. Then the approaching horde came to the town and grabbed the remaining figure. Then in the blink of an eye, the town, the figures, all were reduced to either splashes of blood or piles of rubble. Then there was a blood-curdling scream. |
![]() "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 | Oct 25 2009, 01:38 PM Post #52 |
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Er'ry day I'm overseein'
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It took some real vision and planning to selectively breed slaves. Eli figured it might be a good business model, to go for quality over quantity. It was a little morbid, thinking in depth about how one would buy and sell people, but Eli figured it'd be a nice thing to get into when he got the money and the connections. Hoofing it out in the wasteland was not fun. “These are the pens where we keep our non-bred female slaves. Careful, they’re a little cranky. ” The slavemaster wasn't kidding. Some didn't seem to notice the people, but one or two groups furiously beat against their cages. They must've seperated out the less cooperative ones. Eli did a quick count, and came up with about 32 different slaves, barring the ones that where screaming and flailing. It'd be important to weed out the bad ones. Eli looked back at Hagan and smiled. "Alright man, I'll get 'em all set up. If you see any girls that look fiesty, crazy, or just plain hideous, pick them out." Eli turned back toward the slaver. "Let's talk shop. I want all of them lined up right in front here. Me and my partners will take it from there. I assume you'll take cartridges as payment." Roy had been packing a whole lot of it, which showed considerable foresight on his part. He was a bit smarter then people seemed to give him credit for. Ammunition was very clumsy to trade with, but pretty universal. The slaver nodded and called out to some other workers. In a few minutes, a large group of different slavekeepers gathered around, and they set about the difficult task of bringing all the slaves out. They would all set up around one pin, two or so men at the sides of the chainlink, one in front, and the rest set up in rows on either side of the cage. It all went suprisingly smooth, only interupted by a couple of fighters. Eli immediatly had them put back all of the girls who resisted being moved, and was left with about 26 girls. "Alright Hagan. Pick out the bad ones." Eli walked up and down the rows. 12 brunettes, 8 redheads, and 6 blondes. Going through, he made the slvers take back one redhead who was frantically muttering to herself, and one brunette who jumped out at him. He'd let Hagan pick out any others that would cause trouble, and handle the negotiations. "Hey. Mr. Jabbok. I'm buying all of these ones. That's a shitload of work off your hands, so I'll pay you three quarters standard fees in .32 rounds because I'm buying in Bulk. Plus, I'll pay five extra rounds for some help moving 'em." Eli doubted he would accept that price, but it was usually a good move to start by lowballing them. (As long as you didn't offend anybody, that is) Jabbok was no idiot. "No. You pay full price. Your clearing out all the easy to handle ones. And ten rounds per man I send to help you move them." Eli retorted quickly. "Are you serious? Half of these ones are the raider sort. Grungy and scarred up. I'm not paying more then three fourths price. Your lucky I'll give you that much. Make this easy for me, and I'll pay that ridiculous price for the guards." Jabbok patted him on the back. Eli knew he'd agreed to pay for more then what he should have, but he wanted it done fast, it wasn't his money, and it was a good idea to pay a bit extra in situations like this. "It's a deal. Get 'em ready for you over night, and I'll send you off with three guys in morning." Eli looked back. As soon as they got this taken care of, they'd look for Orion and a place to stay. |
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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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| Munk | Oct 27 2009, 08:02 PM Post #53 |
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One-Man Conga Line
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Eli had told Hagan to pick out the bad ones. He walked up and down the line of women while Eli spoke to Jabbok. Hagan loved the red-heads, it was almost a fetish of his. "The redder the head, the better in bed." He thought to himself. He repeated the old saying over and over while "inspecting the products." He saw one girl he particuraly like but had to motion for the guards when she revealed a hidden blade and attempted to relieve Hagan's blood from his throat. She recieved a quick beating and was thrown back into the cage. Another gal merely mouthed a smart-ass comment to Hagan and spit on his shoes but any rowdy behaviour was bad. After weeding out and few more bad apples they were left with 19 women. 6 brunettes, 6 blondes, one women who apparently dyed her hair an awful teal color, 4 red-heads and 2 jet-black haired women. It seemed to equal out well enough. They even had a set of twins, which would probably please Corroto to no end. After Eli had discussed the price of the women, Hagan walked back into the tribal camp, crossing the bridge with only slightly more confidence this time. He navigated the narrows paths and alleyways with all the grace and agility of a crippled moose in an elevator, shoving people out of his path. He was walking around rather blindly, unsure of where he was going or how to get there. Hagan was merely enjoying this new town when a voice called to him. He turned and saw a man inside of a merchant’s tent. Inside the walls were covered in weapons and armor and trinkets of all kinds. Hagan was surprised that the very large tent didn’t collapse under the weight. Behind a makeshift counter inside the tent stood a tribal. He was a little tubby but average in height. His black hair was cropped close to his head and his massive sideburns were cut to sharp angles, covering most of his cheeks. He had dark bags under his eyes but seemed wide awake. A little hyper even, for someone his size. His clothes were nicer that what he had seen the others wearing. Not made for combat but instead they were somewhat flashy. Other people walked around inside the tent, searching the walls for anything that would help them survive another day. As Hagan approached the counter, a woman cut in front of him. “You got my clothes?” she asked in a bitchy tone. The man nodded and reached below the counter, coming up with a nice bundle of cloth armor. The woman paid the merchant and walked out in her new coat. Hagan stepped to the counter now. “Is that what you do here? You make armor?” Hagan glanced around. “Hell. Looks like you make a bit of everything. Well what can you do about this?” He took off his leather jacket and placed it on the table. ((Short post. Suffering form writers block. I’ll let Run post from here. He is controlling the tribal merchant under permission of Zilabus.)) |
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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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| Run4 | Oct 28 2009, 06:14 AM Post #54 |
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Iron Crow
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((OOC: Time for tradin ah? Tuko sell you your own house and you still be happy!)) Tuko grumbled and grumbled as the bitch left in her jacket. He made obscene gestures at her back. He stuck a drawing of her to the cork board covered in pictures of people he had banned from his bazaar. Absorbed in his little world of frustration at that harridan, Tuko didn't notice the man-thing she had cut in front of, who had been talking to him. He had said something Tuko hadn't really been paying attention to and then tossed a leather jacket on the counter. Tuko picked it up, pulled it in different spots to test it's toughness and tear resistance. Then he sniffed around it to check for any sweat soakage that might affect resale value. Tuko looked up at the customer, recoiling a little at the sight of Zombie man. He stifled a yelp. Maybe this one wasn't like Zaffok, his Guard-Ghoul, kept chained to a post out behind the bazaar. "Joo wanna sell this brah?" Tuko asked, his strange accent confusing the customer a little. Tuko sighed when the Ghoul's facial expression gave a definite no. "Aright brah. You no wanna sell. So wachoo wan me do?" Tuko sighed as the customer raised his eyebrows in a "Well, what can you do?" expression. Tuko sighed again. "Joo wan me cut arm and side, make it move easy? Joo wan me add pads, make it no hurt much wen joo geh hit? Joo wan me trade dis for battar jacked? Tuko do lot for customer. No hag tha jus lef, but mose customer, Tuko can do much. So I and I ask again. Wachoo wan me do man?" Tuko asked. |
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Caleb Wolff, Level 7 Tribal Ranger. (Inventory) Jackal, Level 5 Glowing Ghoul. (Inventory)[/align] | |
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| Munk | Oct 28 2009, 06:51 PM Post #55 |
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One-Man Conga Line
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The merchant refered to himself as Tuko in his strange accent. He seemed a little shocked at Hagan's appearence but was not about to let it get in the way of a business deal. "Joo wan me cut arm and side, make it move easy? Joo wan me add pads, make it no hurt much wen joo geh hit? Joo wan me trade dis for battar jacked? Tuko do lot for customer. No hag tha jus lef, but mose customer, Tuko can do much. So I and I ask again. Wachoo wan me do man?" Tuko asked. Hagan could only understand about half of what the man said but he knew that the man was more skilled than he thought. Hagan had merely wanted his jacket reinforced but now that he had some options, his head imagined something different. "Okay." Hagan began. He wanted alot of things done to his jacket and he had some things he could barter with, if need be. He started slowly, using his hands to diagram exactly what he wanted done on the jacket. "It's a little tight when I zip it up anymore, so if you can add some fabric to loosen it up, that would be great." He paused letting his request sink in and making sure Tuko understood. "Cut off the arms because the stitching I've done myself has made them a little stiff. Some padding would be nice to make it a little more tough but make sure it's still light. And add pockets, lots of big pockets." Hagan paused thinking about he had asked, trying to simplify his instructions. "Just make it into something like a tactical vest, but I still want it to cover my entire torso and back. Loose, tough, with lots of pockets. I guess that's a better way to say it." Hagan said. He knew that what he asked was going to cost him an arm and a leg but it's worth it if it helps him survive a day longer. He just hoped he could afford it. Tuko looked just a little surprised at everything Hagan had asked but Hagan knew he was capable. He just had the craftsman look about him. ((OOC:Going to go back and forth with Run until the barter is over.)) |
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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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| Run4 | Oct 29 2009, 04:53 AM Post #56 |
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Iron Crow
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((OOC: Just bouncing back and forth whenever there's space, rather than following a post order?)) Tuko understood what this guy was saying. He wanted something like a tactical vest. Those armoured things with all the pockets from those pictures of the soldiers before the sky spat fire. Tuco scratched around his fading hairline, looking at the jacket. The Ghoul had said it was a little tight. He wanted the sleeves off. "I make joo good deal. I cut off arms, add some padding, and sell joo diet pill so joo not fit so tight ah? Good deal, no?" Tuko said, raising his eyebrows in a manner that suggested it wasn't just a good deal, but that the Ghoul customer would, in fact, be taking advantage of Tuko's kindness if he were to avail of it. While Tuko waited for the Ghoul-man's answer, he went digging through the various boxes of tools and materials under the counter. Eventually, Tuko emerged from under the counter, madly brandishing what was possibly the largest scissors this side of Texas. He pulled the jacket's arms tight and went to work, cutting cleanly and smoothly. He'd need to hem those to stop them fraying when he was done with the cutting. He immediately dove in under the counter and emerged with an unbelievable array of oven gloves. "I double these mittens up for joo and sew into jacket. They make good armour padding. Here, feel, feel," Tuko said, enthusiastically shoving a pair of doubled-up oven gloves into Hagan's hands. "Price, price, wachoo got to trade man?" Tuko would definitely accept the material of the sleeves as payment for cutting them off, so he moved them to a separate pile from the jacket. Then he stacked the oven gloves on the jacket and laid some thread and material on top. "That wachoo geddin, that wachoo got to give me so far man. You godda come up wid more. If no, Tuko can no help joo," Tuko said, pointing at the jacket pile and the sleeves respectively and feigning being terribly distraught at not being able to help this Ghoul-man. |
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Caleb Wolff, Level 7 Tribal Ranger. (Inventory) Jackal, Level 5 Glowing Ghoul. (Inventory)[/align] | |
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| Munk | Oct 31 2009, 12:15 AM Post #57 |
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One-Man Conga Line
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Tuko seemed to understand precisely what Hagan wanted and took various materials out from under the counter. "I double these mittens up for joo and sew into jacket. They make good armour padding. Here, feel, feel," He said shoving a pair of oven mitts into Hagans hands. They felt thick. Wouldn't stop a bullet but would definitley help against a blunt attack or a knife slash. Hagan was pleased. "That wachoo geddin, that wachoo got to give me so far man. You godda come up wid more. If no, Tuko can no help joo," Tuko said, pointing at the jacket. He had moved the sleeves of the jacket to a seperate pile and Hagan was unsure wheter that meant he was accepting them as part of the barter or he had merely moved them aside for the convience. Hagan checked his pockets. He put his barter materials on the counter, placing them next to his former jacket sleeves. "One large hide, and this little statue." Hagan didnt want to go all out on his first bid so he kept it simple. The large hide and the little molerat statue he had carved way back when he first met Eli. He figured that Tuko would have more use for it, all it was doing for Hagan was taking up valuable space. Hagan had more to barter with if he needed to. |
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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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| Run4 | Oct 31 2009, 04:23 AM Post #58 |
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Iron Crow
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"This fur make fine coat. Good trade, good trade. Will need more for de padding. No much, but de stachoo is a leedel small, joo know? Some boolet or a knive be good. Or smaller hide," Tuko said, running his hands over the large hide and admiring the hasty, but no less impressive workmanship on the little statue. Tuko looked back up at Hagan and raised his eyebrows. Was he gonna pay up, or was he gonna back out? |
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Caleb Wolff, Level 7 Tribal Ranger. (Inventory) Jackal, Level 5 Glowing Ghoul. (Inventory)[/align] | |
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| Munk | Nov 1 2009, 12:24 AM Post #59 |
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One-Man Conga Line
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"This fur make fine coat. Good trade, good trade. Will need more for de padding. No much, but de stachoo is a leedel small, joo know? Some boolet or a knive be good. Or smaller hide," Hagan knew his first bid wouldn't fly completely and he had expected this. In fact he had a plan. "Okay." He lowered his voice and hunched low to the counter beckoning with a hand movement for Tuko to do the same. Hagan pretended to gaze around and be nervous, trying his damdest to make it seem like someone might be watching. Hagan spoke in a whisper, loud enough for only Tuko to hear, "I have in my possesion a very powerful amulet." He paused for effect. "It was a well guarded secret of a Cannibal Shaman and I barely managed to get away with it alive." Hagan pulled the bloody speartip from earlier reverently out of his pants pocket and twirled it in his fingers. "This." He gazed at it. "Is the best kept secret I have ever run across. It was well guarded indeed but worth the trouble, for the massive powers it possesses. You see, in this particular tribe I procured this from, Cannibalism is a sacred thing. When you eat the flesh you gained the powers of the one you have eaten. Recently, their prophecy foretold that their God would reincarnate in a strong warrior with three marks upon their nose. Soon the warrior was found and was showered in grand banquets and festivities but the Shaman would have it. He believed that he should be the God's host body. So through some strange events he managed to land a spear through the God Warrior. Then the Shaman consumed his body and he believes that he had become the God, but alas the God was not pleased with his new body and The Shaman was stoned to death for the murder. Before he died The Shaman supposedly put the God's powers into the last thing to touch the Warrior's body, which just happened to be the speartip I am holding right now. It gives you more powers than you could ever imagine but I do not believe I can harness this power. It is said that only when held in the hands of a skilled Tribesman who bears the three sacred marks upon his nose will the God's power acticate and make themselves known." He finished his story and held the speartip out as if offering a great and dangerous blade. Hagan wasn't going to lie, he was impressed with himself. That was pretty good for just making it up off the top of his head and he particularly liked the three nose marks because of Tuko's three black freckles adorning his large flat nose, that might help the sell. Hopefully Tuko was superstitious because if he wasn't, Hagan had just dug himself a liar's grave. |
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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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| Run4 | Nov 1 2009, 07:10 AM Post #60 |
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Iron Crow
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((OOC: Spanner, meet works. Not all tribes are big on cannibalism)) "Ono. That stuff is cursed. No! No! Cannibalism is WRONG! Even if joo die of hunga, never eat anotha man's flesh. If joo do, joo wander the world forever as a devil," Tuko said fearfully, backing away from the bloody spear tip as if it were some form of venomous serpent coiled and ready to strike. "Throw it away my friend. Climb a mountain and throw it from the top. Go Southeast and throw it in the Great Lake! Go out and bury it in the desert. That thing is cursed. Get rid of it before it curses joo too!" Tuko looked utterly horrified at the presence of the Cannibal's spear tip. He wasn't at all fond of cannibals. To eat the flesh of another was a greater crime than killing the weak. The greatest crime a Tribesman could commit. And this customer was carrying a Cannibal's Holy Artefact!!! |
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Caleb Wolff, Level 7 Tribal Ranger. (Inventory) Jackal, Level 5 Glowing Ghoul. (Inventory)[/align] | |
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