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| Copperton Sheriff Office (Mission Location); Small building outside Bucket Town | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 28 2010, 02:19 PM (568 Views) | |
| Run4 | Mar 28 2010, 02:19 PM Post #1 |
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Iron Crow
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Small Building about a mile and a half away from the settlement now known as Bucket Town.![]() Before the War The building served as the sheriff's office for the county before the war. Now it is occupied by several men of varying occupations. It survived the War by virtue of being surrounded by some of the taller buildings in the region, which sheltered it from the blast waves. The occupants all work for a man by the name of Paul English, a seemingly slippery customer with a surprising reputation in the area. ![]() Paul English Other occupants of the building include several guards (a small mercenary force capable of fending off wandering Raiders and beasts), English's personal bodyguards and a Ghoul Doctor who works in the basement. |
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Caleb Wolff, Level 7 Tribal Ranger. (Inventory) Jackal, Level 5 Glowing Ghoul. (Inventory)[/align] | |
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| Run4 | Mar 28 2010, 02:45 PM Post #2 |
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Iron Crow
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Caleb woke slowly. He'd been drifting in and out for days, then undergone days more recuperation for exhaustion, pulled and torn muscles, buckshot wounds, and the worst of the lot, that Junk Flinger bolt. He could feel his arm protesting as he tried to raise it above his head. And his knife wound from working with O'Boyle weeks ago had partially torn open again. He was almost over that by now though. His left arm was almost pulp by now though. He'd lost a lot of muscle tone relaxing it in a sling as he paced and ran around the grounds of the Copperton Sheriff's Office. He'd been practicing with the "swords" he'd found during the Linconson Debacle, as he had decided to call it, as well. He was getting quite good with the heavier one. Just yesterday he'd been able to take his arm out of the sling, and as the Ghoul Doctor had put it, he wouldn't be stretching for the salt any time soon. His right wrist was in a makeshift wrist support too, sprained and strained from firing a 10mm Pistol one handed. Caleb walked slowly into Mister English's office. The former sheriff's desk suited him. In a corrupt police officer sort of way. Caleb had guessed this day would come. No one fixed up a shot-and-beat-up Tribal out of the good of their own hearts, unless they were Tribals themselves, from an allied or neutral Tribe. Mister English offered Caleb the seat across from him. "Well Mister Wolff, I assume you know why you're here?" English asked. "I owe you and you need that debt repaid. What do you need done?" Caleb answered. "We do a lot of work, but right now, we're quite swamped. I need you to scout a building near the Sabine River for a client of mine. It's in fairly hostile territory, and we need a scout like yourself to do the job," English said, before adding, "You might want to sort yourself out with some better gear first. Might stop you getting so knocked about." "I'm in. You got a map for me to follow?" Caleb asked. Without answering, Mister English handed Caleb a map of Texas with a red X marked on it. "Way ahead of you Mister Wolff," Mister English said with a grin as Caleb stood up and pocketed the map. "Time to head to Trapper's and grab me some extra gear," Caleb thought to himself as he left the room, and then the building. |
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Caleb Wolff, Level 7 Tribal Ranger. (Inventory) Jackal, Level 5 Glowing Ghoul. (Inventory)[/align] | |
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| Cattiebrie | Mar 28 2010, 03:56 PM Post #3 |
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Loudmouth
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Maggie spotted a job notice, and read it. The name is what jumped out at her. Paul English. He was here. He was here. And she had a legitimate reason for going to meet him. He wouldn't recognize her- no reason he should. She and Murphy were enough older, they'd changed enough, and they didn't bear a lot of resemblance to their mom. Plus, just on the off-chance that the twins pinged his radar, they'd decided to split up. Murphy was going after one of the two people left, and Maggie was going after the other. They'd tracked English down and were pretty sure of where he was, so they'd decided to leave Maggie in Bucket Town and hope and pray she wouldn't have to deal with a lot of people, and to send Murphy on to the new town, since he'd most likely have to deal with people, and let's face it, Maggie sucked at that. Maggie was just a little too rough around the edges to get information from people. And a little too sarcastic. And a little to free with her opinions. Mostly, though, she just plain didn't care if she was insulting people. But she'd curb the sharp side of her tongue in her meeting with English. At least until she was ready to actually kill him. She made her way to the address listed and knocked on the door, waiting for a response. A short, balding man with an air of respectableness around him answered the door. Maggie repressed the urge to snarl at one of her mother's murderers. "How may I help you?" Maggie forced herself to stand still, muscles loose instead of bunched. "Saw a flyer that said you're hiring. I'm looking for work." He looked her up and down, obviously measuring her and finding her lacking. "And where exactly do your talents lay, Miss?" "Connery. Meghan Connery. I have quite few talents lying around, but I think that mayhaps the one you're most interested in is shooting. If it has a trigger and fires something, I can hit with it. My husband, Logan, he's the fighter out of the two of us, but he can't shoot to save his life. Unfortunately, he's not here right now- he had to go to another town for some specialized supplies, but he didn't want me along just in case danger happened. I keep trying to tell him I don't rightly care how dangerous something is, I still aim to be involved. So I figure I'd come here and get myself hired- you're one of the few people doin' any hiring right now anyway- and it would just serve him right that it sounds like the type of job I'll have to watch myself real good on, on account of the danger. So what kind of job is it, and am I hired?" English looked slightly taken aback, but covering it well, from this onslought of (false) information. But then, he had no way of knowing that she wasn't exactly telling the truth. Maggie could lie with the best of them- she couldn't cover her personality, and couldn't be someone else, but she could create details behind fake names. She'd chosen Meghan because she'd answer to it- any derivative of Meghan sounded close to Maggie. She'd picked Logan for Murphy on the off-chance that he came back before the job was finished, because it was his middle name. And she'd lied about Murphy being her husband because... well, if by some freak accident of luck, English was paranoid that Murphy and Maggie would be coming after him, he was on the lookout for a brother/sister team, not a husband/wife. 'Course, there had also been a few times that Maggie and Murphy had been a brother/brother team. And the one time that they'd been a sister/sister that Murphy still wouldn't allow her to talk about. But when they'd had to play the other gender, they'd pretended that the one doing the gender swapping was deaf- Murphy's voice was entirely too deep to be a woman's, and Maggie's... well, it was a husky alto, but it was a very feminine husky alto. English blinked. "You're hired. I will tell you more details as more people arrive. That way, I only have to say it the once, as opposed to repeating it every single time a new person comes for the job." |
![]() Cattiebrie Human Level 3 Special: 4/6/4/7/8/7/4 Traits: Small frame One hander Sex appeal Karma: Equipment: Weapons: Switchblade, Laser Handgun, 1 Stun Grenade, Kiga Rifle, 1 tricked out holster Armor: Duster Coat Inventory: Jet- 3 Bottle of Amiphediprine Small Hide- 1 5 Luisiana Currency dollars Beers- 2 Looks: Short, brown eyes, red hair that falls in her face, obscuring it. Distinguishing feature is a scar down the side of her face, running through the left eyebrow, missing the outer corner of her eye, down her cheek to her jaw. Wears a leather duster, and prewar jeans and previously red shirt that's pinkish gray. | |
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| Iris | Jun 11 2010, 10:42 PM Post #4 |
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Vault dweller
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Maggie O'Dell. Maggie, Maggie, Maggie. Damn. He thought he'd seen the last of her. Dutch Chapman had just gotten into town. It was his first time in the little cluster of civilization that was clinging for dear life in this godforsaken piece of wasteland, and he wasn't terribly impressed by it or the slime he'd seen so far that passed for inhabitants. To say he was feeling nasty today would have been... par for the course. Gun and bag slung loosely over one shoulder, his army knife tucked neatly away and his hands in his pockets, he'd been headed for the office in hopes of finding work and had happened to show up just as soon as she did. He hesitated across from the office, chewing on the neck of his shirt nervously(bad habits died hard, despite Ma Chapman's tight and vigorous use of a belt) and weighing his options. He really, really didn't want to go in there. But... He growled and resettled his bag as he stomped towards the office, shirt neck dropping from his teeth. Rubble crunched beneath his boots as he thumped inside, just in time to hear; "...I only have to say it the once, as opposed to repeating it every single time a new person comes for the job." He grinned. Maggie's back was to him, her full attention on the man... English, yeah? English. Pffft, she looked like she had crosshairs on the man... Dutch had such an advantage he nearly groaned aloud at the thought of letting it go. But he knew better than to cross Maggie O'Dell. Ma Chapman's belt didn't have anything on Maggie's trigger finger, and he knew it. He grinned as he leaned against the door frame, tilting his head towards English. "Aww, now, you don't want to hire that nag, sir, trust me." |
![]() Dutch Chapman:// Level 1 Human Inven:// Prewar Clothing. BB Gun. Army Knife Vis:// 5'10 Caucasian male. Black Hair. Gray Eyes Archetype:// Trapper | |
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| Cattiebrie | Jun 11 2010, 10:49 PM Post #5 |
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Loudmouth
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"Aww, now, you don't want to hire that nag, sir, trust me." Maggie heard a familiar drawl come from behind her. She bristled as she turned slowly and fixed a cold stare on Dutch. She turned back to English and spoke tightly. "I'll be right back. Need to take care of some" she hesitated slightly "things. But I will be back." She stepped off the porch, grabbing Dutch's ear as she walked. When she was good and ready to let go, she did, speaking tightly. "Is there a particular reason that you felt like stepping into my business, costing me a job, or did you just suddenly have the desire to be a Grade A asshole?" If he cost her the chance to get close to English... Well, it didn't matter how much of a soft spot she had for the (much) younger man, she would still kill him and kill him but good. |
![]() Cattiebrie Human Level 3 Special: 4/6/4/7/8/7/4 Traits: Small frame One hander Sex appeal Karma: Equipment: Weapons: Switchblade, Laser Handgun, 1 Stun Grenade, Kiga Rifle, 1 tricked out holster Armor: Duster Coat Inventory: Jet- 3 Bottle of Amiphediprine Small Hide- 1 5 Luisiana Currency dollars Beers- 2 Looks: Short, brown eyes, red hair that falls in her face, obscuring it. Distinguishing feature is a scar down the side of her face, running through the left eyebrow, missing the outer corner of her eye, down her cheek to her jaw. Wears a leather duster, and prewar jeans and previously red shirt that's pinkish gray. | |
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| Iris | Jun 11 2010, 10:59 PM Post #6 |
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Vault dweller
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"Ey, ey, ey! You're gonna rip it the rest of the way off!" The cry was sharp and plaintive and would've seemed real to a passerby, but he was really only emoting for Maggie's sake. He rubbed his ear, trying to look sore and failing miserably. He only grinned, face averted, as she berated him, and when she was finally done he gave her an innocent, hurt look. "Aww, come on Maggie. You know I'm an asshole twenty-four-seven. Didn't mean nothin' by it." Then he couldn't hold it anymore, and his lips split in an -almost- pleased grin. Oh, how he loved their back and forth. Wasn't a woman in the world like Maggie O'Dell. Not anymore, least ways. |
![]() Dutch Chapman:// Level 1 Human Inven:// Prewar Clothing. BB Gun. Army Knife Vis:// 5'10 Caucasian male. Black Hair. Gray Eyes Archetype:// Trapper | |
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| Cattiebrie | Jun 11 2010, 11:12 PM Post #7 |
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Loudmouth
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Maggie rolled her eyes. "I know. You're an asshole the same way I'm a bitch. It's just our natural state of being." She sighed heavily, shoving her hair out of her face brusquely. "Well, you invited yourself into this. Congratulations- we're going to go right back up there, and you're my younger brother. Welcome to the family." She turned and walked back to the porch, fully expecting Dutch to follow her. "Listen, Mr. English, I be sorry about my younger brother. He was mad at me for trying to make him stay home today. Don't suppose you'd be willing to hire on another guy, now would you be?" Paul English looked behind her. "What can he do?" Maggie decided to let Dutch answer his own question. |
![]() Cattiebrie Human Level 3 Special: 4/6/4/7/8/7/4 Traits: Small frame One hander Sex appeal Karma: Equipment: Weapons: Switchblade, Laser Handgun, 1 Stun Grenade, Kiga Rifle, 1 tricked out holster Armor: Duster Coat Inventory: Jet- 3 Bottle of Amiphediprine Small Hide- 1 5 Luisiana Currency dollars Beers- 2 Looks: Short, brown eyes, red hair that falls in her face, obscuring it. Distinguishing feature is a scar down the side of her face, running through the left eyebrow, missing the outer corner of her eye, down her cheek to her jaw. Wears a leather duster, and prewar jeans and previously red shirt that's pinkish gray. | |
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| Iris | Jun 11 2010, 11:19 PM Post #8 |
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Vault dweller
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He followed Maggie obediently back into the office, stifling his grin as she introduced him. Well, now, wasn't that just dandy? He hoped English was stupid. The only thing pinning him and Maggie as relations was the fact that she hadn't killed him yet. "Name's Dutch. I c'n shoot an' trap an' skin an' take orders." Most of the time, anyway. And shoot, that probably made him overqualified to boot. |
![]() Dutch Chapman:// Level 1 Human Inven:// Prewar Clothing. BB Gun. Army Knife Vis:// 5'10 Caucasian male. Black Hair. Gray Eyes Archetype:// Trapper | |
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| Cattiebrie | Jul 13 2010, 01:06 PM Post #9 |
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Loudmouth
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English raised an eyebrow at the two of them. "I have a problem. Thomas Harrison is claiming that I doublecrossed him on a deal. I need you to make him shut up." Maggie nodded coolly. "Should we leave him in one piece? Or does it matter?" "I don't care what you do, as long as you do it." English growled the words and his eyebrows narrow. "Gotcha. Come on, Dutch." Maggie turned and walked off without a backwards glance. ((I'll start a mission thread now.)) |
![]() Cattiebrie Human Level 3 Special: 4/6/4/7/8/7/4 Traits: Small frame One hander Sex appeal Karma: Equipment: Weapons: Switchblade, Laser Handgun, 1 Stun Grenade, Kiga Rifle, 1 tricked out holster Armor: Duster Coat Inventory: Jet- 3 Bottle of Amiphediprine Small Hide- 1 5 Luisiana Currency dollars Beers- 2 Looks: Short, brown eyes, red hair that falls in her face, obscuring it. Distinguishing feature is a scar down the side of her face, running through the left eyebrow, missing the outer corner of her eye, down her cheek to her jaw. Wears a leather duster, and prewar jeans and previously red shirt that's pinkish gray. | |
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| Twentyfists | Jul 16 2010, 06:56 PM Post #10 |
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Five Fingers of Fury
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Steven Tucker walked into the Copperton Sheriff's Office and looked around. It wasn't really up to much. There was the standard old faded posters, a bulletin board that had definitely seen better days, and a small grouping of file cabinets looking sorry for themselves off in the corner. The room was dominated by a large desk, behind which was seated an older, balding man in a suit, one Paul English. The area's big boss when it came to mercenary work, apparently, although he sure didn't look it. Ordinarily, Steven tried to avoid mercenary work as much as possible. That kind of work, he observed, was often violent and hazardous to one's health, and it oftentimes brought the would-be mercenary into contact with some less savory individuals. But Steven really had no choice. He had spent his last bit of money God-knows-how long ago, and there wasn't any scientific work that he could pick up in the region, since the Padre had finished stabilizing Copperton. Most of the work on Copperton's freelance job board nowadays consisted of the kind of general labor that Steven wasn't really suited for. However, something about Steven drew the attention of one of English's mercenaries, who gave him directions to the Sheriff's Office. Paul English glanced up from the ancient Salisbury steak that he was trying, unsuccessfully, to pry out of its primeval packaging. Ghoul. Labcoat. Book. Wrench. Egghead. Nothing special. Then English's gaze fell on the stun grenades and the laser pistol holstered at Steven's side. Well, those may be useful. He glanced at the papers in front of him. "You're the ghoul?" he said whilst attempting to free the steak from its moorings. "I've got a job for you. You don't look like the physical type, so I'll keep it fairly simple. There's a small grouping of houses southwest of here that I need scavenged. They've only just been unearthed by the shifting sands, and I'm devoting all my resources to keep those damn tribals away. Go inside, seize anything of interest, and return to me. You'll know what to look for. This should be a milk run." Scavenging. That was pretty easy, and Steven wouldn't even have to kill anyone like he'd feared. "Got it," the ghoul replied. "I'll be back in twenty-four hours with whatever you need." (I'll start the mission thread now-ish.) |
![]() Marcus Castor Williams Level 2 Mercenary. Dark skin, close cut hair, long face, constant scowl. Rudimentary Revolver, Baseball, Hatchet x2, Tribal Food Pouch, Holiday Can of Amarillo Cola, Tribal Linens with Tribal Battle Helmet, 1 Large Hide. Current Condition--Normal. 4 kills. Nash Rhodes Level 2 Raider Bruiser. Long greasy hair, black beard, tall, broad, muscles. Rusted Mounted Machine Gun, Rock Knuckles (GC), Modified Tattered Leather Jacket. Current Condition--Just fine. 3 kills | |
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