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Picking the Bones of the World; Enter the Jackal (Solo)
Topic Started: Nov 5 2009, 09:27 AM (275 Views)
Run4
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Iron Crow
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((OOC: As is customary, this will be broken up in a series of posts, rather than one giant optic rape post))

From the outside, the power station looked dead, empty. A hulking, skeletal reminder of the world that was. It stared down over what had once been the town it fed power to. From it's position on a small hill, it held a commanding view, standing on the roof, or God forbid, the top of the cooling towers, one could see the true scope of the world's destruction. Deserts melted to great glass plains, skeletal towns burned to cinders in the hellfire that rained from the sky. Children's toys, burned-out playgrounds, shattered schools and the one remaining half of the town hospital, leaning against an office building, all standing as monuments to the indiscriminate, vulgar power of nuclear weapons. A not-so-fond reminder of what kind of brutal, awesome power humankind had once been able to call upon. A harrowing remnant, stretching their chimney stacks to the sky like the fingers of the rising dead. The smokestacks of the town's iron works stood, reaching for the stars above as the sun set blood-red in the distance. At long last, the sun set, and darkness wrapped the town and it's power station like a shroud.

Inside the hollow, echoing, groaning and creaking wreckage of the Fusion Power Plant, something stirred. It heaved itself from a makeshift bed, shook it's head and ran a peeling hand through it's admirable head of hair. It grinned a skull-like grin at itself in the mirror and stretched a little. Picking up a clipboard and a wrench from a toolbox on the ground, it started it's routine run around the parts of the plant not cut off by collapses during the bombings. Two hundred steps, three hundred steps, regulated breathing. "That's it, keep breathing, keep breathing. You're only as old as you feel". It came to it's first port of call, according to the clip board. Heating Pipe Oscar-067, Junction 994, D-Sector, Sub-Section Charlie. Applying a light tap of the wrench, all seemed in order. Nonetheless, the runner tightened a few bolts here and there, careful not to over-tighten in case the pipe ever ruptured and needed repairs. Nodding and muttering knowledgeably to itself, the runner stepped back to admire it's handywork for a second, just a second, no more, no less, before jogging to it's next port of call. The routine went on and on until it completed a full circuit around the more commonly-visited parts of the plant, right back to the place it first roused itself from it's slumber.

A little mental pressure and it began to emit a slight glow. For the first time, a following observer would get a decent look at the legendary "Ghost of Toloko Power Plant". It sighed, looking at itself in the mirror. Flesh still mostly intact. Aging well. Still that horrifying-looking skull-like smile and the peeling skin. Those hollow, hollow eyes. Eyes that had seen more than many would ever care to see. Seen the true madness of humanity in the days and weeks following the bombs. Those eyes had seen those . . . those "civilised people", if those classifications as humans even applied to the foul, raging apes that raped and murdered as the world went to shit, it had seen them go mad. Mad with fear, hate, pain, anguish. They had lost everything. Their homes, their jobs, country, loved ones, their sanity, their souls, they lost their humanity, and there were people out there who just didn't give a fuck. They liked being base examples of humanity.

So this runner, this creature, with it's cracked, peeling skin and it's ghostly, hellish pale green-white glow, it's hollow eyes, hands shaking with rage at it's own memories, that it had killed, sometimes pointlessly, that people still killed, looked itself in the eye, turning it's razor over and over in it's hands. It swung the razor across the throat of it's sneering, snarling reflection and threw the razor away. Just like it did every day after it woke up. It was more an obsessive ritual than anything by now. Liam might have done himself in the early days. But not this running thing that had taken up residence in his head. It was stronger, harder, than Liam had ever been. It knew the horrors of human nature, witnessed them, suppressed them. It hunted, scavenging, picking at the carrion of the earth, King of the Low, King of the Carrion-Eaters, King of the Scavengers, the Jackal.

Finally, it walked to the front of the building. Still in behind the darkness of the doors, itcurled in on itself where it stood. It tucked in it's arms and hands and drew in more breath than a creature it's size ever should. The glow it gave off began to intensify, and pulsate. The geiger counter in the security office by the door began clicking, before producing a tortured screeching noise as radiation spiked to fatal levels for just a second. In that second, the glow reached flash point. Blindingly bright, retina-burning, scream-inducing intensity as the creature, Jackal, rared up, threw his arms out to the side and howled. A phlegm-laced roar from mutated lungs ratling across mutated vocal cords, birds scattered and animals fled at the scream of a ghost. The people huddling in the town below murmured and locked their doors as best they could. Beasts stalked the night in these parts. Beasts that would make the bones of the strongest man melt. Then they heard the howl. Grown men began to cry as children screamed and hid.

The Ghost of Toloko would walk among them tonight. The dark god of the haunted hill would walk those streets it once knew, hunting for food, water, and whatever else it might need. It terrified them. They believed if it caught you, it ate your soul and left your body behind, a mindless abomination with sloughing flesh and a thirst for blood. Jackal threw the doors of the Power Station open and stretched his arms out to the sides, grinning his skull-like grin and laughing a hollow, mirthless laugh.

"Let's get this party started!" Jackal rasped before striding down the hill towards the town below.
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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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Iron Crow
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A trio of Gore Crows cawed and screeched above as they followed the Glowing One below. There was always good hunting to be had when the Ghost of Toloko Power Station walked the world outside. Animals feared him. They fled. And from there, the Crows would pick them off. The three Gore Crows had something of an agreement with Jackal. He scared their prey into the open, and they squawked in warning whenever something dangerous approached their meal ticket. Tonight was just such a night. The Gore Crows took off, screeching and scowling blue bloody murder as a trio of Tribal Hunters inched their way towards this monster the Wise Woman had tasked them with hunting. They cursed in some strange language as the Gore Crows arced overhead, dropping a stinking payload on one of them.

Jackal rasped as the three Gore Crows took off. Something had spooked them. Killing his Glow, Jackal dived off into a drainage ditch by the road side, landing with a soft squelch in the mud, still dank and sucking on his boots after the last storm. It squelched as he moved, finally slurping as he pulled his feet free and started inching along the crached concrete trench, his Laser Pistol in one hand and his knife in the other. He hissed slightly as he heard soft footsteps on the tarmac of the road. Jackal jumped out of the ditch as he heard a grunt. He flashed bright, dazzling his would-be assassins and firing angrily before his eyes had adjusted to the sudden change in light levels. There was a pained scream, and one of the Tribals fell, a gaping hole blasted in his abdomen. The other two were stumbling about, waving their spears madly to keep Jackal away while their eyes recovered.

Jackal took a careful aim at one of them, a bigger man than the other, and fired, his home-made laser burning through the man's forearm and into his chest. The man fell, air whistling out of his perforated lung. Jackal spun back and put the first Tribal out of his misery as he sobbed in his own blood and what was left of his gutsack. Jackal settled himself in front of the last Tribal and started to agitate whatever it was in him that made him a Glowing One. This one was going to die in a very, very special manner. As the Tribal settled himself in front of Jackal, he yelped again as Jackal's light went out, plunging them both into darkness. Jackal surged forwards, ducking under the man's guard and punching into his flank. He heard the glorious crack of breaking ribs and followed up with a forearm bash, breaking the Tribal's collarbone. The Tribal shouted in pain and staggered, grunting and making begging gestures.

"God has mercy, Tribal. I don't," Jackal said, admitting that if there was a God, he'd been looking in another direction since October 2077. He grabbed the Tribal, holding him steady as the helpless man pawed at Jackal with the one arm he could move. Jackal started to concentrate on the radiation. His forearms glowed a different glow than the ghostly pale light of before. It glowed a deep, dark green, throbbing, rather than pulsating. There was a flash of heat and the man fell to the ground, blood leaking from his eyes and ears, skin rapidly peeling as his eyes appeared to run liquid down his face. He made a tortured, gargled scream as blood filled his throat. Sores were already forming on his flesh and his skin turned red, blood vessels rupturing all over his body. Jackal winced. He hadn't delivered a high enough dose. It could take hours for this one to die. Jackal couldn't have a mean screaming to his death with children in the houses around them. So Jackal kicked once, breaking the man's jaw to fragments with his steel-toed combat boots. His screams wouldn't be scaring kids any time soon.

Jackal rolled all three bodies into the ditch and muttered a short thanks to those three Gore Crows as they chowed down on some critter spooked into the open by Jackal's passing. Jackal rose again and walked towards the little river that ran through the town. It usually had some nice fish in it. He had tried fishing with dynamite once. Bad choice, as the river was shallow enough that the explosion blew into the bed and launched lumps of rock all over the place. Jackal stepped into the water and his body started to glow that dark green again. He spotted the silver movement of a fish not far away and gave a short, deadly burst of Radiation as the fish swam around his feet. The fish floated to the surface and into Jackal's waiting hands.
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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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Iron Crow
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Jackal stood in that river for a good half hour, but no more fish came. Strange, this river usually had quite a few fish in it. He crossed through, wading almost chest-deep at the deepest part and emerged on the far bank, with it's commanding view of the river's curve. Not many houses standing this side of the river. Didn't see anything. He dimmed his own glow and waited for his eyes to adjust. He looked around, upstream, downstream. Nothing. Nothing at all. No! There! He'd missed it the first time. Tiny, tiny shapes shifting about upstream. Not gore crows or anything. He was assured of that by seeing a human's unique silhouette. More curious than angry as to what they were doing in the river at this time of night, Jackal started to move upstream towards them. He pulled up his headscarf to cover the lower half of his face, and put his hat back on to cover the rest, save for his eyes.

It wasn't a particularly long trek, but it took Jackal some time as he tumbled and jumped through the wreckage of what had been a lumber yard before the war. Most of the timber had rotted away, but the frames that held the pieces in bundles, and a good deal of tools were still lying around the yard, waiting form some unsuspecting passer-by to trip over them and skull themselves. Insidious bastards. Jackal breathed a sigh of relief as he saw a pair of middle-aged wastelanders with fishing rods sitting on the river bank. They had sunk some kind of wicker fence thing into the water. The occassional fish was jumping over, but the others were just taking the fishermen's bait and being pulled out. Fine trick. Jackal nodded and raised his hands as he entered their little fishing patch. He sat down on the bank and waited for one of them to speak.

"And you are?" One of them, a stocky, bearded man asked after about five minutes, according to Jackal's watch. Slef-winding, it'd never run out.

"Jackal. That's what people call me," Jackal responded. "That's a nice little fishing trick you got there, mind if I join you two?"
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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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Iron Crow
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Jackal sat silently on the bank, using a makeshift spear to catch his fish. Makeshift meant his knife tied to a stick. It was an annoying way to fish, as the stricken creatures would often slide off the spear "tip", forcing Jackal to reach into the water to pick the slain fish out. It was getting annoying. Really annoying. Then one of the fishermen coughed. That little noise scared away the fish Jackal was aiming for. The aged Ghoul's face ticked for a second.

"Count to ten . . . count to ten . . . count to ten," Jackal thought to himself. "Fuck it. Fuck counting to ten. You're going hungry for this."

Jackal stood up and whallopped the fool man with the haft of his fishing spear. The man yelped as he fell back, startled by this sudden assault. Jackal thumped him again, and again, picking up the pace of raining slaps down on the man until the haft of the spear broke, spinning off into the distance. Jackal kicked the man in the ribs.

"Shut up! SHUT UP ! ! !" Jackal snarled, startling the fish and scattering the fishermen's gear as the one he had attacked fell to the ground in a dejected heap, whimpering and crawling away while his friend sat, frozen in terror at the mad, now-glowing stranger who had been fishing with them one minute and then gone berserk and kicked the ever-loving shit out of his buddy.

The shocked, unbattered fisherman then stood and made a terrible mistake. He pulled a knife, brandishing the short switchblade at Jackal, who drew his own knife. He looked at the man as he held his blade in a loose grip.

"Come on kid, make yer move. Go on. Do it. Think you're fast enough?" Jackal rasped, his voice like a snake sliding over gravel. He backed the man up, kept taking a step after a step after a step until the terrified fisherman slipped and dropped into the chest-deep water with a splash and a yowl. Jackal turned away, and kicked the one he'd beaten on the ground one last time for scaring away his fish. Then, as compensation, he picked up the man's fish basket and walked off, muttering a few expletives under his breath as he went. The night was still young.
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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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Iron Crow
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Jackal headed upriver, leaving the battered and shocked fishermen behind. He was in a rambling mood. Might not return to the power plant for days. But he always came back to that soothing, healing place. He sighed slowly as he walked. He felt sort of bad about jumping that guy and making his friend fall in the river. What matter? Their lives were just a blink of his eye now. He began to wonder if he had become completely divorced from human society, become something alien and altogether different, mentally as well as physically. He'd become more Jackal than Liam. In a way, he really was the Ghost of Toloko Power Plant. A haunted shell of the man he once was. A decidedly squisher shell at that.

Jackal scratched his head as he ran a hand through his hair as he walked, flaking dead skin from his scalp. He gave off a small glow, casting light out through his open shirt and jacket, down his sleeves and trouser legs, and most disturbingly, from his eyes. His head produced less of a glow than the rest of him. He didn't care much about looking like a walking lantern. He was moving through the old scrap yard now. The contaminated lumps of metal all around gave something of a relaxing, healing energy, but the place was absolutely infested with Ferals, running around, licking the irradiated girders and bits of scrap metal and huddling around the HazMat barrels that had been awaiting transport on the fateful day. He heard one of the.

Urk? Hrrraaaachh . . . Huur-Haaaarrrr ! !

They knew a Glowing One when they saw one. Or, more accurately, in this scrap heap with it's terrible lines of sight, felt one. He attracted the things like moths to his flame. They almost looked to him as a leader. Jackal was okay with them. He kept one for observation in the power plant, locked it in a decontamination chamber. It reached something of pet status now, he let it out for runs in the Power Plant, he had already taught it how to recognise simple voice commands like "Sing", which made it yowl uncontrollably for about five minutes, and "Fetch". Upon hearing fetch, the Feral would run around the plant and retrieve the shiniest thing it came across on it's mad dash. Great way to recover misplaced tools.

Jackal raised an eyebrow as the Feral up ahead poked it's head tentatively around the corner, and then jumped back out of sight when Jackal looked directly at it. Strange. Jackal approached slowly, watching everything. He stepped on a piece of scrap metal. Klank! ! ! The pieces of metal snapped off to the sides as a snare tightened around Jackal's leg and pulled him face-first into the scrap pile. He fell, the world going black for a while. When he awoke, he looked around, noting that his leg was tethered to something. "Did I walk into one of my own traps?" He thought to himself. "No. Didn't plant any there since I caught that Feral. That Feral. Holy shit . . . these things, do they want the Feral back? Did they fucking learn how to reset my trap? Apparently, they did."

Jackal rolled over painfully. That really was a brute of a trap. He hurt all over after being slammed into that junk wall by a possibly overpowered snare trap. How the hell did the ferals learn to reset that thing? Jackal looked around, spotting a dead Feral in the corner with it's femur broken and jutting out of it's thigh. There was another Feral moving with the awkward gait of a man who had botched resetting a dislocated leg. Another still was hobbling painfully, it's arm bent at an awkward angle. They had learned to reset his trap by trial and error, it seemed. This was bad news. Very bad news. He looked up at one of the zombies, probably the leader (Degenerate Ghoul), which was now wearing Jackal's hat, and holding his laser pistol in one hand. "Oh, this is not good . . ."

Jackal's head still hurt. His face ached. His breath burned in his lungs. That trap had really done him. He blacked out again.
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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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Iron Crow
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Jackal shifted on the ground. The dunt on the head was stirring things he hadn't thought about in over a century.

----

The woman ran. She screamed, terrified. She alerted her pursuers of her position. Bad move. They were on to her. She could hear the dogs. Filthy, ravening creatures with slavering jaws and teeth like railway spikes. Barking and howling and yowling like they were in the most horrible pain imaginable. Two of them skidded around the corner. They'd locked on to her now. She screamed and tried to run. She knew she couldn't outrun those animals. She'd be torn apart. Unless those freakshows got to her before the dogs finished her. Then she'd wish she'd been torn apart.

BOOM ! ! !

. . .

BOOM ! ! !

The dogs didn't even howl as they were shot down by a rifle of some kind. The men skidded around the corner, spotting the slain hounds first. Then they spotted the horrified woman. Torn dress, dirty hair. Easy target. But what had killed the dogs? The rifle fired again. One man went down, a sucking hole blown in his chest, his life's blood pumping slowly onto the dirt-crusted street. The woman had dived to the ground to avoid the incoming fire as the rifle fired a fourth time. Another man fell, his head smashed apart by the bullet. The third turned to run. The shot only clipped him, blowing out his knee and spinning him from his standing. He screamed in agony in the dirt. The woman played dead as she heard the crunch of boots behind her. Someone walked past, ignoring her. His face was hidden by a hat and a scarf. He walked by, finishing the screaming man with a close-range blast from a bolt action rifle. He shouldered it and turned back to face her . . .


----

Jackal stirred again. His mind was skipping parts. Leaving bits out. Adding bits in. Mixing stories and memories together.

----

She screamed at the sight of his face, grabbing a lump of timber. She swung one end at him. He dived out of the way as she screamed things he didn't quite remember. Her voice definitely wasn't demonic in the original incident, but now it was deep and unnatural. She swung the timber again as he scrambled away. She raised it over her head.

BOOM ! ! !

Jackal stared at his hand, aching and pained as he fired his rifle one-handed, bracing the stock against the floor. The blood. All that blood and brains and viscera smeared on the ground as the bullet splattered her head. The shot entered her neck and burst up through the back of her skull. No scream, just a hollow half-stare from the ground as she lay, her dress stained with her blood. Jackal stared at his rifle in horror and threw it away. He'd killed her. Helpless as she was, he'd killed her. Self defence. Makes no difference, won't bring her back. Someone's sister, someone's daughter. Won't bring her back for those people. Saved her, then shot her.

Monster . . .

Beast . . .

Ghost . . .

MURDERER . . .


----

Jackal shifted fitfully again, his brain muddling things up. Accusations, pain, everything. Fear, hate, anger, depression. The Ghost. The Killer. The Glowing Demon of Toloko Hill.
[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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Iron Crow
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Liam lay in a field. A nice little meadow on a hill. This place'd wreak havoc on his sinuses and Hay Fever, but what the hell. It was a beautiful day, and it was his day off. He was going to enjoy it. He stretched out. His leg musta been tangled on something. His shoelace was probably caught on a weed somewhere. He felt a soft hand brush his hair back off his face. That felt good.

----

Jackal snapped back to reality, immediately grabbing the Feral holding his head by the neck. He snarled, a deep, throaty growl. He let the thing go. He didn't want to hurt it. It hissed and rasped, backing away. He looked at it's dislocated arm. His trap had done that. Every action has consequences. Jackal beckoned the Feral back over. He gently took a hold of it's wrist and it's upper arm. It tensed slightly, as if it knew what he was about to do. It screeched as he tightened his grips and pulled it's wrist towards him, popping it's arm back into place with a resounding crack. That done, Jackal let the poor Feral yowl and jump away, cradling it's arm and staring at him with what he thought might be gratitude.

The other Ferals had come running at the sudden racket. Jackal raised his hands as the Degenerate waved his pistol at him wildly. The other Feral stood up, proudly displaying it's repaired arm. The others breathed a collective gargling sigh of relief. One of their number had been healed by the prisoner. For a few tense, gut-wrenchingly silent minutes, all five of the Ferals stood and stared at him. Jackal could feel them soaking in his radiation. He was strengthening them. The other Ferals were standing a little off from the Degenerate. They wanted him to replace their leader?

"Oh hell no," Jackal thought to himself. He was sane! He wasn't an animal like these . . . these . . . things. These things that he trapped and kept in a cage and studied like fucking insects. "Goddamn, I am a fucking animal, amn't I?"

Jackal sighed and lay back, his head still aching from the bone-rattling impact in his trap. He counted his teeth with his tongue. All still there. He felt his face. All structural hard points intact. Jackal stretched out on the floor, then stood up, his head spinning. He'd probably been out for the better part of a day. His body wasn't entirely happy with having to pump blood upwards to get it to his brain. He swayed a little and sat down on a crate. The Degenerate hissed. She wasn't happy at all with Jackal recovering. Probably saw him as some kind of predator. A rival for leadership. He was a Glowing One, after all. He registered at the very pinnacle of the Feral Ghoul hierarchy. The ultimate Alpha Specimen. He sighed and stared at the floor, waiting for his vision to clear. His head was thumping. Like he'd been punched really, really hard by a very, very blunt object.

He snorted. Well, he snorted to the best of his non-existent nose's abilities. He hawked and spat a mouthful of heavily irradiated phlegm onto the floor. He cleared his throat and sat up straight. These Ferals had had the good grace not to kill him. So he decided to do them a favour. Accompannied by a reassuring glow, Jackal started to ramp up his radiation output. Might as well be nice to them until he was sure they weren't going to release him or whatever.
[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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Iron Crow
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Jackal was getting more than sick of this shit by now. He'd been pumping out the rads like it was going out of style for a day and a half now, and the Feral Ghouls seemed intent on using him as something of a drinking fountain rather than setting him free and using him as a leader-beast. He was tossing the idea of cutting the rope and chancing his arm in a fight with these things around in his head. Good idea or bad idea? They were in the basement rooms and offices of the scrap yard. Closed confines, narrow spaces. He might get the jump on that Degenerate Ghoul that had nicked his pistol. He was definitely stronger than the wiry Ferals. Probably just as vicious. Jackal waved his hand. To the careful observer, it was quite clear that the knife had slid from the depths of his jacket. To the less careful observer, it looked like it had just appeared. He glanced up to check he was alone, and swallowed a yelp.

All four bog-standard Feral Ghouls were standing, watching him. One of them looked a little battered. It's face was swollen. There had been an altercation. The four of them moved slowly towards him. He reversed his grip on his knife and stood up, shoulders arching and growling like a cornered badger. He raised his knife, ready to stab down like a nail into these Ferals. Then the unexpected happened. The one whose arm he'd reset extended it's hand to him. In that hand was held the familiar shape of his Home-Made Laser Pistol. Jackal gulped again. They wanted him to kill their leader Ghoul? He heard a shriek of rage further out in the basement. He swore, raising his pistol and covering his eyes as he fired at the pipe his leg was tethered to. Sparks, heat and a not-so-nice buzz noise and he was free. Jackal crouched and started cutting through the snare on his leg. A reassuring snap as the tension went when the knife cut through and Jackal was free. He stood up slowly to face the enraged form of the Degenerate Ghoul. He raised his pistol.

Not fast enough.

The Degenerate Ghoul slammed into him like a Mack Truck, jaws gnashing and arms flailing as it endeavoured to tear his throat out. Jackal dropped his weapons in the commotion as he was slammed against the wall. His forearm was pressed across the Degenerate's throat. For now, breathing and biting were mutually exclusive luxuries for that Ghoul. Jackal was using his other hand to fend off it's frenzied scratching and thumping left hand as it tried to use it's right to pull his guarding arm away. With a snarl, Jackal lunged forward, headbutting the Degenerate and shoving it away with his forearm. It fell to the floor, but recovered too quickly to take advantage, stumbling away as it regained it's feet. Jackal lunged forward, plowing it face-first into the wall. He punched it twice in the back of the head and twice in the ribs. Then he grabbed it's head and shoulder, holding tight. He dived right, taking the Ghoul to the ground. After a headbutt to the side of the Degenerate's head, Jackal rolled on top and pushed the advantage.

He punched and punched at the Degenerate, which was screaming and thrashing in a desperate defence, not at all comfortable with not being on the offensive. Jackal punched and punched. This thing, this tyrant, it's own clan hated it. They feared it. It was an animal. There was no way he could let it have his research subject back. There was no way it was getting it's grubby paws on Lenny. He hit it again and again and again, raining punches down on it's skull over and over and over, snarling, growling, roaring as he let that spark of anger start a raging fire. He punched and punched and elbowed and elbowed. By the time he noticed the Degenerate had stopped struggling, he was drenched in it's blood and meager allowance of brain matter from knuckle to shoulder on both arms and most of his chest had an unhealthy helping of blood and gore on it. There was very little left of the Degenerate's head but a sack of mutilated skin and some protruding chunks of bone. Jackal stood up, his chest heaving as the adrenaline cut off. He collected his gear as the Ferals gathered around him, putting their hands on his shoulders, pawing at his arms. Jackal groaned. He had just taken over control of the Scrap Yard Ferals.

He sighed heavily and led them to the surface. Night time again. Darkness wrapped them like a shroud as Jackal hopped along. He wasn't sure if he should kill them or not. Would he be able to house five Ferals in the Power Station? He scratched his head as he loped along. He was running like a Feral now. He felt like an idiot. He crouched by the river, looking around.

Gurr? Sher-hurk?

Jackal winced. He half-understood that. The Feral was either asking where to cross or if they had to wade this. Jackal facepalmed and sat down on the bank. The Ferals immitated him. He dropped down into the river. As did the Ferals. One of them squawked and flailed as it slipped and fell over. Jackal caught the Feral and stood it back up angrily. He hoisted himself up out of the water. It took the other Ferals a while to immitate that. They were all unable to perform a pull-up. Jackal sighed exasperatedly and helped them out one by one. The Feral's lay on the bank for a while, panting and coughing at the exertion. Jackal sat down among his new subjects. He'd become a fucking landlord for these things. He checked his bag out of curiosity. The fucking things had eaten his fish too. Rolling his eyes with annoyance, Jackal got up and started off towards the Power Plant again. The Ferals whimpered and followed, upset at moving while tired.

Jackal led them up to his "house" on haunted hill and in through the front door. He slid the doors shut behind him and howled. He was home. Lenny yelped in response deeper in the plant. He'd probably escaped and locked himself in one of the bathrooms. Again. Jackal led his new study subjects along, trying to be optimistic. He could study their social interactions, and see if Lenny was capable of teaching them his commands, and the small snippets of rehabilitation Jackal ha d taught him. Lenny could brush his teeth and polish his bald head. Jackal wondered if they were capable of teaching. This was a good thing. Unless they all got spooked and mobbed Lenny. Then he'd have to kill them.

"One way to find out," Jackal muttered.

Not finished yet!
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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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Run4
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Iron Crow
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Jackal sat, chewing on a pencil, jotting down notes at the behaviour of the rest of the group towards Lenny. He had named two more of them. Patrick, Jacob and Nancy. He assumed Nancy was female. He watched them and Feral Four, who he had yet to name, interact. He sat, scratching his chin, pancil now behind his ear, as Lenny tried and miserably failed to teach Patrick and Nancy how to use a sweeping brush. Maybe Lenny was just a more intelligent specimen. Jackal had known a few humans who couldn't use a sweeping brush properly in his day.

Interestingly, Lenny seemed to be getting annoyed with Patrick, Nancy, Jacob and Feral Three's inability to sweep the damn floor. In a delightful display of anger and an utter total loss for expression, Lenny threw the brush to the ground, threw his arms up in the air and walked away babbling and gurgling. Jackal couldn't help but laugh. He noted that. Feral Ghouls had enough presence of mind to get pissed off at their compatriots' incompetence. Just like humans. Perhaps there was a chance of them being rehabilitated for cheap labour. Maybe to replace criminals performing community service. Meant criminals could just be taken out back and shot. Did crime even exist any more?

Jackal sat back to take a few more observations before heading off to log the notes on his terminal and let the Ferals out for a run around the plant. Hopefully Lenny wouldn't lock them all in a decontamination chamber or something. Jackal knew Lenny was liable to do something like that if he was really pissed. A good half hour later, Jackal had logged his notes, opened the Feral Pen and let his wards out for their evening excercise. They charged off screaming and howling into the poorly-lit hallways, followed by Jackal's low-light vision until they turned a corner and vanished.

This had been one crazy weekend.

[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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Run4
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Iron Crow
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Right, ready for locking, judgement and grading and whatnot.
[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
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Er'ry day I'm overseein'
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Quote:
 
Rewards:

Jackal: Level up!
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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