Welcome Guest
[Log In]
[Register]
| Welcome to The Wastes. We hope you enjoy your visit. You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. Join our community! If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
- Pages:
- 1
- 2
| All ends in time; With a bang or with a wimper | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Aug 2 2010, 09:38 AM (1,275 Views) | |
| Ronto | Aug 4 2010, 09:37 AM Post #16 |
|
Capt. Procrastinate
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
George had stood up over the semi-ruined table and moved into the main square with his fellow revolutionaries, he had begun to fire on a few guards littering the nearby streets. This is it, this is finally it, a new beginning, for me and for this town. "C'mon boys! For Buckettown!" George tried to rally the men as he took another guard down, he was beginning to admire this RPK, it was quite an enjoyable killing machine. George made his way around the monument in the middle of town, he had found a small spot of cover in front of Trapper's Trek. He was taking fire from two guards on the opposite side of the street. His gun had jammed again. As he took time to fix it again, George examined his surroundings; So this is it, is this really what we want. George saw people fleeing in terror, mothers protecting their children, men getting gunned down in the street, terror, pure terror. C'mon George! This is a fuckin' revolution! We are here for what is right! George fixed the jam. He opened up on the two men, one fell with a bullet to the chest, when the other saw this, he burst into anguish trying to help his fallen comrade. Be strong goddammit! George put the second man in his sights and squeezed the trigger. He fell in a cloud of red mist. George slumped down beside the barrel he was using for cover and reloaded. Just five more clips...shit! He stood up and observed his surroundings, even with all the chaos , White felt like it was quiet. Strange. George turned around and faced Trapper's only to feel slight pinch in his right arm, that pinched turned into an excruciating pain. As it turned out, someone had thrown a knife into his right bicep, it had knocked George down and only pissed him off. "I'm a lefty mother fucker!" He yelled as he unloaded a few rounds into the Trading post. George was trying to stand up when he heard,"HEY YOU! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!" One of the revolutionaries was calling to him, he looked like on of the men in charge. George painfully hobbled over to the man while some of his crazy-ass looking men covered White. "George ummm just George, ow fuck, reporting for duty sir!" He exclaimed as he pulled the knife out of his arm. "I'm ready and able to cover you sir!" The man, who called himself Zeke, ordered some of his men onto the rooftops as he planned to advance across the square. "Sir, I'll go on the roof with the other soldier!" George put the LMG on his back and began to climb a pipe leading to the roof, once he was up there, George found a spot of cover and set up his gun's bipod. He motioned to the other patriot,"You, Zeke plans on crossing the square, I'll cover the right side by the church, you cover the left side by Trapper's, if your gun jams, give it to me and I'll fix it in a jiffy, now cover 'im!" As Zeke and his patriots advanced from cover to cover, George began to fire bursts of 7.62x39mm rounds and the guards trying to stop the advance, he killed one guard and managed to down another. "Shit! Jam!" The raider exclaimed tossing the gun to White. George rolled over and took out the jammed cartridge. George looked around. Shit! Zeke's taking fire, and it looks like he's heading to Trapper's instead. George slid back the gun and looked down, a raider was calling to him,"You! Come with me to the main entrance, looks like there's reinforcements comin this way!" George nodded and wished his fellow LMG-er good luck. He packed up his RPK and slid down the pipe. Along with four other heavily armed raiders, he made his way to the main entrance, resistance was light, very light. ONe lone guard at the gate was quickly dispatched as the men set up and 360 degree perimeter. George climbed to the roof of another small shack and set up his RPK behind a potato sack filled with gravel. "Right boys, you see something shoot it! It fires back, shoot it again!" George was trying to rally the troops which oly seemed to be keen on erasing Commies of the face of the Earth. Right, we'll hold up here as long as we can and keep them off our backs! The stragglers started to show up in pairs of 2's, 3's, 5's or more. George began pumping RPK fire into them hoping to keep them at bay for as long as he could hopefully giving Zeke the time to capture the rest of the town. "WHATEVER HAPPENS, DON'T GIVE UP, DON'T SURRENDER, FIGHT FOR THE FREEDOM OF BUCKETTOWN!!!!!" |
|
[align=center]Joe Pera 7,9,7,4,5,5,3 Level: 1 [/align] | |
![]() |
|
| fablemerc | Aug 4 2010, 10:49 AM Post #17 |
|
The Big Daddy
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
All around him the air was intoxicated with the whips and whines of the deadly lead that was flying through the air. The noise all meshed into one pounding whole which was deadening to hear and seemed to shake Daniel’s eardrums right to the core. He felt a firm, purposeful hand grasp his shoulder and pull him down behind the flaying potholed canvas camping tent. Landing face-first in the warm loose sand Dan felt like punching who ever had gifted him with a mouth full of sand. That was until he heard the hair raising whine of a bullet just inches from where his head had just been. Looking up Dan could see the boiling cocktail left in its wake and relief flooded his nerve-stricken body. “Thanks Kevin.” Daniel grasped the hand that was offering itself down to him. Clutching his fingers around it he was pulled back up to his knees; his body and head still sheltered up from canvas tent that sat between them and the defenders. The man who had pulled him up smiled and bent back down before returning with Daniel’s prized crossbow and handed it to him. Dan’s heart skipped a beat as his hands fastened around his prized crossbow, the wood was still polished to perfection and the slightly rusted metal was as smooth as velvet silk. Daniel smiled and patted Kevin on the back. “Thanks for this.” He looked down to check if the bolt was still nestled firmly in the firing chamber ready to be fired. It was fine. He was relieved that his bow was ok but now he knew it was time to advance; he had joined this rebellion and he would see it through for these guys-these American patriots. “Ok guys.” Daniel signalled over to the other three neo-patriots who were to sheltering behind the canvas tents who were every so often taking pot shots with their civilian grade carbines at the defenders who were holed up in Flinn’s shop about fifty metres away. Daniel marvelled at the bravery of these men, they were willing to risk their lives to fight for a better America. They were doing something worthy with their lives and it made him think of doing the same once all this had ended. Maybe he’d join them. But now was the time for action, these men were depending upon him since Hagan had given him the charge of securing the large cluster of tents on the out shirks of town. Looking up Dan could see four eager and determined faces stare back at him. They were ready. “Ok we need to secure that bus. If we can then we could use the tech old Flinn has stored up in there to aid our allies.” Dan waited for the men to give him the understanding nod and so they did. Smiling at his own leadership he pointed towards the bus. “Two if you will stay here and provide an over watch position to cover as the rest of us advance.” He then looked at Kevin who was staring at him with kindness in his eyes. It made Dan stumble as he remembered Mufassa giving him the same look before his death. I will not let him die too. “Ok Kevin please stay back and use your smoke grenades to cover us.” Kevin recoiled slightly and looked slightly taken aback with Daniel’s request. “But sir I want to join you in the assault.” Daniel was caught off guard, he didn’t have a retort to defend himself with and he knew that he now had zero chance of persuading Kevin now. “Ok Kevin you can join, give your smokes to Woody.” Kevin’s face brightened and Dan knew that he had made the right choice; keeping the men happy was up-most. “Woody and Jezzer stay here and over watch, Kevin you and Paul will be with me.” They all nodded and Daniel could just smell the pride they all nestled within themselves. They were prepared to die for freedom. “May we win over the communists who wish to destroy us.” Daniel nodded and Woody and Jezzer sat up and began to pour un-ceasing volumes of hot lead into the defenders position. “Ok boys throw the smokers!” The grenades burst in the soft loamy sand releasing torrents of thick oily smoke into the fray concealing them from the devilish view of the defenders and their guns. It chocked their lungs and Dan could taste the tangy acid as it filtered into his mouth. It was time for them to move. With Jezzer and Woody still pouring torrents off fire off into the inky darkness Dan and the other two Neo-patriots ran forward into the smoke. The sand was slowing them down and it felt to Daniel as if the very sand was trying to suck them down and claim their lives. It also didn’t help that with the smoke the remaining tents between them and the defenders were shrouded in near darkness and would hinder them if one of them ran into one. “Just keep forward men.” Daniel charged ever forward and around him yet more rounds spat. It was mayhem, a living hell of earth. Suddenly his right foot made contact with the hefty tethering rope of a tent launching him down back into the sand. Shit he was a sitting, or rather lying duck. Quickly he rolled over just in time to see Paul bending down to help him up; Kevin was to beside him. “Sir are you ok?” He was fine save for another mouth full of sand. He smiled at them both. “Yes I am ok.” But Paul wasn’t. The bullet struck the back of neck and went right through killing him instantly. Crimson red blood splattered forth from the wound and covered Daniel. Shit! Paul’s lifeless body fell into the sand and Dan knew he was dead. Kevin was in shock as he stared at the dead body of his former friend. “Kevin I’m sorry he’s dead but we must continue the fight for freedom.” Kevin nodded and grabbed him carbine. Dan smiled “Let’s do it.” They reached the side of the bus still concealed in the bellowing smoke. It had only been a minute or so since they had charged. Above Daniel could hear and see the muzzle flashes and the defenders fired at Woody and Paul. Quickly they shuffled their way round to the front of the bus; they didn’t need to be quite as the noise of the battle concealed their movement. Reaching the corner Daniel peeped out to size up the entrance. He could see the square in front of him and all around people were shooting. What particularly took his gaze was trapper’s shack; they seemed to of captured it. Smiling Dan looked back of the entrance. Perfect it was unguarded. Dan took out his pistol “Ok Kevin let’s storm the place.” As Daniel entered the bus he fired two shots at the nearest man, the first missed him narrowly hitting the metal hull with a distasteful ting but the second landed in his face sending him spiralling backwards into the side of the bus. The second man raised his weapon and took aim a Dan ready to shoot off his head but he was melon popped by Kevin with his carbine; his brain covering the bus. The third man was who was holding a .32 pistol launched three shots towards them. The first missed but the second hit Daniel in his left wrist while the last grazed past Kevin’s cheek. The pain was horrible and Dan cursed in anger as the pain brimmed inside him. Dan was about to shoot him when the man suddenly keeled over sideways. What the hell? There behind where the man had been was Flinn with a rather large sledge hammer. “Get out of my dam shop!” Daniel was taken aback by Flinn’s harsh tone. His eyes were heavy and we looked rather annoyed. “You lot have ruined my livelihood.” Daniel didn’t know what to say, they had just freed Flinn but he was annoyed at them. Suddenly Kevin spoke back. “Gerade has ruined the land. Has your business grown or has it like Trapper’s slowly begin to die. We are fighting for a new start, a new America. You will have power in the town, power to help and do good. That is why we are here, to fight for the people.” Daniel marvelled at Kevin’s words, such passions as he spoke such spirit. He really did believe in a better America. Flinn looked at them, his eyes still hostile and anger filled. Then he sighed, lowered his sledge and looked at them with renew. “I guess you’re right, my business is dying under Gerade.” He sighed again. “I...I will help to free the people.” Great they now had Flinn on their side and with his knowledge and tech they couldn’t lose. Then a though came to Daniel “Could we use those artillery guns in the square?” Flinn looked at him and something seemed to click deep inside. "No, I've tried all my life and yet they are still broken, I am sorry." Daniel's heart sank. He was hoping for at least one gun to be working but with none there would be little point of trying. "Well do you have anything here that could help?" Flinn gave him a vivid glace as if saying not really. Dan's heart sank even futher into the ether. "Maybe one thing but nothing else." One thing was better than nothing. But if that was all then they were in trouble. Turning back to Kevin Dan spoke. "Go back to Woody and Jezzer and get them to meet me over at Trapper's over there." He pointed. "We'll regroudp with the others ok." Kevin nodded and run back the way they had came. Shaking his hea din annoyance Daniel proceded to regroup with the other neo-patriots. |
|
Amelia Harington 6.8.8.3.5.6.4 Lvl: 1 Weapons: Pipe Rifle, Worn Kitchen Knife Armour: Old Leather Duster Coat Items: 1 Water Bottle | |
![]() |
|
| Run4 | Aug 4 2010, 11:52 AM Post #18 |
![]()
Iron Crow
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Meanwhile, at the Town Gates: Jackal lumbered towards Copperton. The sound of gunfire wasn't uncommon in these parts, but this was ridiculous. Sounded like skirmishes. Maybe bandits had swept in. He sighed and flipped his knew Hunting Knife around in his grip. Or survival knife, rather. A utilitarian skinning, gutting, whittling, chopping and filletting knife. He edged closer to the town. Slowly, carefully, moving as low-profile as he could whilst so over-encumbered. He advanced cautiously, almost apprehensively on the gateway in the pockmarked, flimsy and gap-heavy wall. Gunfire only getting louder. Coming from multiple directions. He drew his pistol, moving with his Hunting Knife supporting his pistol hand in a Harries Grip. "The Harries Grip is a Torch Technique," he thought to himself. "Pretend it's a torch then you prick," he thought in response. He moved through the gate in a low crouch, spotting several heavies. One turned a gun towards him. Jackal raised an eyebrow. This one didn't look like a town guard. In fact, he looked like a Raider. Jackal grinned as the man went down, a bullet catching him in the throat from the right. "KILL 'EM ALL ! ! !" Jackal grinned. Backup. A bullet whizzed by. He felt the draft rustle his hair. His eyes widened and he dropped instinctively. He realised "ALL" probably included him, given he was standing with these whoever-they-weres. He rolled into cover, panting and snarling. He heard someone shout something about getting the Ghoul. His eyes widened further. He jumped as bullets tore through the crates he was hiding behind. He dropped flat on his belly, watching as the strangers returned fire on the Guards, in spite of being able to see Jackal perfectly. He made his decision. He threw his lot in with the strangers. At least they'd had the decency to look at him for a few seconds before turning guns towards him. He popped cover, pausing to settle his aim rather than fire randomly. That pause made the fire viciously effective. One guard down as he tried to cross open ground. He lay screaming, his leg mangled. A hand reached for him. Jackal aimed again. The second the rescuer's head came into view, Jackal fired again, the laser shot burning the flesh from the Guard's head and boiling his brain in his skull. Jackal crouched and let the guard scream in agony for a while as he crawled to a new vantage point. He popped cover again and shot another rescuer. Double Tap to the chest, two neat, grape-sized holes burned in his body. The wounded one still screamed, trying to drag himself to cover. Jackal shot him in the gut. He kept screaming, his liver probably shredded by the fire. But he'd lie for a good five, maybe ten minutes now. Screaming, drawing more friends out of cover to try and fail at helping him. Jackal sheathed his knife and holstered his pistol, drawing his Kala Rifle. He didn't trust the machinegun. Not at all. But the Kala was a proven ally, if a little battered and inaccurate. It hissed as he pulled the trigger, felling another guard with a shot to the neck. He'd been aiming for central mass. He made a mental note to adjust the sights at some later point, and carried on firing. He groaned as the next shot missed completely. Unreliable error. It wasn't the sights. The focusing lense was loose. He grumbled incoherently and growled something obscene that made even the nearby thug-looking fella grimace. He moved around cover, darting to the more reliable walls of a ruined building. He crouched and glanced around again. No enemies in sight. And then he felt it. A bullet passing dangerously close to his head. "They're flanking!" Jackal roared. No response from the strangers. "My job then, I guess," Jackal grumbled to himself, slowly dropping prone as if he'd been clipped and gone into shock. He crawled on his belly, out of the shooter's line of fire as he struggled through the sand and dust. He drew his knife again, slinging his Kala and drawing his pistol with his other hand. He moved to the corner of the building, where the wall was more intact, rising to a low crouch, the building concealing his shadow as he watched the shadows of two more guards approaching. He holstered his pistol. "That's it Liam. We need two hands for this knife work," he thought to himself. He clenched the knife in both hands, staring intently at the ground. A foot shuffled into view. He drove his knife down into the foot, rising and sawing the blade across the man's groin. The Guard howled as his femoral artery was ripped apart, falling and clutching ineffectively at his leg. He was already in shock and suffering from blood loss before he hit the sand, his thigh spurting a bright red fountain into the dirt. Jackal was already busy on the next one. Surprise. Speed. Violence of action. Maintenance of momentum. Keep them on the back foot. The keys to an assault. He finished his almost instinctive knife combination with deadly efficiency. Neck. Neck. Both Carotid Arteries cut. Straight along the sternum, cutting his intercostal ligaments. Jackal punched the dying man in the face to keep his hands clear as he stabbed into his groin, then caught the man's hair and finished with a stab directly up under the jaw and into the brain. "Forgot the Gut Slash Jackal," he thought to himself. He let the body fall and dropped into cover. He couldn't see any more Guards, but he decided not to be too careful. If they got surrounded, well, the only option would be to retreat through the gate and into wide, open ground. |
[align=center]![]()
Caleb Wolff, Level 7 Tribal Ranger. (Inventory) Jackal, Level 5 Glowing Ghoul. (Inventory)[/align] | |
![]() |
|
| Munk | Aug 4 2010, 01:32 PM Post #19 |
![]()
One-Man Conga Line
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
People everywhere. They moved like a big river in the street, a complete and moving flood, all headed in the same direction. Folks who weren't brave, strong or fit enough for combat running away from the surly men with guns. The screams were nearly as loud as the gunfire here, people running away in a blind panic, most with their heads down, covering their neck with their fingers. Some pounded on the door of the church but the doors did not open, they remained shut. Gerade was certainly helping these folks get to heaven faster. Most people moved on from the church, running and hiding in whatever nooks or crannies they could find. A few stayed pounding, pounding, pounding on the church doors desperately begging to be let inside. Hagan, who had now moved into the crowd, lit the molotov and threw it through the church window. He heard it shatter and saw the flames rise inside. Just another person, angry that the church doors wouldn't open. The people screamed again and ran the other way, away from the fire that threatened to consume the house of God. Hagan and Dobbs moved with them, single particles of water in the vast, drowning flood, each one indistinguishable from the next. They split off when they could, into a side alley that hadn't yet been been contested by gunfire. A few people were here, not many, riding like rats from the carnage. Some of the people were bloodied or shot. Dobbs apparently recognized someone. A shifty figure sitting and leaning against the wall. His hand was bloody and he held it against his side. Dobbs crouched next to him. "Jean. You alright man?" Dobbs asked. Jean said nothing but lifted his hand. A big wound was there, his skin, muscle, liver and kidneys all turned to swiss cheese from a buckshot round. He coughed up blood. "Dobbs... Dobby." He said weakly. "They're, they're by the prison. Roy and Claude." Dobbs face was a mixture of rage, confusion and disbelief. He looked at the wound. Hagan knew there was no hope for Jean, it seemed like Dobbs did as well. That didn't make it any easier. "Jean. Get up, come on." Dobbs wanked at Jeans arm, tried to lift him. Jean was dead-weight, incapable of moving so much as an inch. Dobbs was nearly in tears. "Please. Try to get up." "I'm sorry Dobby." Jean said weakly. He closed his eyes and passed on. Dobbs stood up. He wiped his eyes and turned to Hagan. "We need to go to the prison. I have to help Claude." "That's not in the plan." Hagan said. "Well, fuck the plan. I'm going. You can stay or come." Dobbs looked at him, an impossibly cold stare that sent a chill up Hagan's spine. Hagan thought about it, the prison wasn't a bad idea. Maybe the prisoners could lend a hand. He nodded. "Okay. Let's go." Dobbs' expression did not change but he began walking at a very brisk pace, seemingly unimpressed by the gunfire and death around him. He was a man on a mission and Hagan followed him. The runners had thinned here, just a trickle but the combat was closer. Three guards had the prison pinned with gunfire and Roy's bald head could be seen crouched behind a barricade. The guards were moving closer to the cover. The had their backs to Hagan and Dobbs and Hagan took his rifle out and readied it. He set his sights, put his finger on the trigger. And saw Dobbs rush past him at a full-sprint, running so fast that he seemed a blur. Dobbs ran right at them and hit one of the guards in the back with the force of a train. The guard went down face-first and Dobbs rolled off him and then leaped, quite literally, onto the other guard. He landed three big fists into the guards face and moved on to the third who was whipping around. Dobbs ducked under the barrel of his rifle and came up with an uppercut that would rock Mt. Rushmore from it's foundation. Dobbs had flicked his lightswitch and that guard went down, unconscious. Then other two were up and ready, aiming their weapons at Dobbs. Hagan made sure it was clear and fired his rifle. One guard went down with a howl and the other looked at his now-fallen comrade for just a second. A second was all Dobbs needed. He stepped to the guard and grabbed a handful of his hair. He placed the other hand on the guards chin and twisted sharply. Hagan could hear the wet, meaty snap from his position. Dobbs ran inside the prison. Hagan looked both ways to see if the way was clear and ran into the prison himself. Roy was already there and Claude as well but Hagan didn't see Dobbs. "Where's Dobby at?" He asked Roy. "He needs some time, Jean was like a little brother to him. He'll be okay." Hagan understood and began rummaging through the small room. Claude spoke up. Hagan looked and saw the ring of keys dangling on Claude's finger. "Looking for these?" Hagan took the keys from Claude and opened a door. It led to a broom closet, so he opened another. This time got he got it right, the door led to a dark, narrow corridor with cells on each side. He took his time, unlocking everyone. The prisoners stepped out, confused. "What's goin' on?" One asked. "We're freeing you." "A jailbreak? Shit, Gerade will just pick us up for chems again." Hagan smiled. "Oh no, he won't. It's revolution time. The padre is muetre." The prisoners looked confused. "The Father is dead. Gerade is dead." They cheered now. Hagan shushed them. "It ain't over yet. There's still pockets of battle outside. You help us kill the guards and you'll get your freedom. Not only that but they're are big changes stirring in Bucket town. If we win this chems are legal!" They men cheered louder. "And hookers!" Hagan added. That got the loudest cheers and the men looked ready. Hagan led them out. They stood ready. Hagan gave them a final bit of speech. "You ready? This is for what you want, freedom! They can't take that from you. It's our right to use chems if we choose. You have that right, you need to take that right. They want to take your freedom from you. You gonna let?!" The men cheered. "NO!" "You just going to rot in jail?!" "NO!" "You gonna fight!?" "YES!" Hagan looked at them. "Then grab a weapon and get the hell out there!" The men cheered again and they all ran outside, some grabbing the weapons from the guards bodies outside. The group stuck together and dissapeared from hagan's sight, heading as reinforcements to the center of town and wherever else there was still gunfire. Roy looked grim. "You really think we can do this?" He asked. Hagan took a moment, sighed. He could hear the distinctive pops of gunfire and the screams of the dying and he breathed in deep. Outside, the sands shifted lightly in the breeze. Mother Nature was taking her sweet time while Death moved quickly, sweeping the town fro souls to reap. The winds of change were blowing. "Yeah, Roy. I think we can." |
|
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
| |
![]() |
|
| Zilabus | Aug 4 2010, 02:27 PM Post #20 |
|
Er'ry day I'm overseein'
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
At the gates Jackal's aid has proven to be the thing that saved the men here from death, and Jackal, along with the few raiders left here, have held the position, pushing back defenders and vigilantes. While attacks intensified, George and the last of his companions came in time to take the pressure off. Other then the few attackers who hold the area, it is now almost completely deserted. George and his allies fire have managed to cut down stray defenders, and this location is now solidly in your control. Positive effect Near Finns You've managed to take the area around Finns, and Finn himself is vaguely sympathetic to your cause, having been a soldier of fortune himself in his younger days. He holds the position himself for your cause now, although he's just one man. Positive effect In the square The innitial attack went well, doing some damage to the men there and injuring both Trapper and his son. However, it didn't last. While your words may seem like cries to fight opression to you, they seem like crys of mad bandits to the townsfolk, and sheriffs in the area have helped orginize them. Men prepared an ambush hidden around the building, and the pushed Zeke and his men back and out of the building. With the entire side facing Trappers hostile, the square turned into a killing zone, with fire crossing in all directions. Attackers, and many innocents, left in the square have been cut down in an intense crossfire. Backing down and around in any areas you can find cover, your numbers are thinned severely, the survivors scattered, and both Zeke and Dan have been wounded. Negative effect Near the small jail You've gained a handful of new allies in the various junkies and chem-heads stowed away in here, and they're headed towards the square now. While weaker, the pitfighters are together again, and the area is quickly calming down after the breaking the chokepoint that was the jail. Freeing up a bunch of criminals hasn't done well with your chances for recruiting any townsfolk, though. Neutral effect |
|
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 | |
![]() |
|
| Munk | Aug 6 2010, 05:50 PM Post #21 |
![]()
One-Man Conga Line
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
((OOC:: Alright. We did very well. We can do this. This may or may not be the last round of posting and we should be grateful that we have it. Make it count. New post order: Hench, Run4, Me, Ronto, Fable.)) |
|
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
| |
![]() |
|
| HenchmenF | Aug 8 2010, 07:35 AM Post #22 |
|
Wasteland leader
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Zeke licked his lip. He was nervous. The town guards had burned down Doc Nances, they fired upon civilians, and who knows what else there doing around town. Zeke was helping a civilian who had taken a stray bullet in the gut. His limited medical knowledge meant he couldn't do much for him, but, he could at least make him comfortable before he died. A few of the raiders were also busy with the wounded, trying to place them into a safe place. Finn, several raiders, the neo-patriots and several of the local residents were firing upon the town guards in the square in return for them shooting at there homes and killing there loved ones. Thats when the mob shambled into view. Most of them looked visually drunk, and heavily armed. Normally, Zeke would have simply just stood up and fired upon the mob. Right now, Zeke was more concerned about the wounded townspeople and the wounded raiders he had. "Alright, move the wounded out of the way!" Zeke shouted, dragging the person he was helping to a bit more safer spot. Several of the townspeople grabbed there own weapons, ready to face the mob. "Hey, you guys town guards?!" The supposed leader of the mob said, carrying a sawn-off shotgun. "No." Zeke replied wearily, not even bothering pulling back the hammer of the revolver. "Listen, do us a favor. If your really going to attack us, go right on ahead. If not, we have to help some people who have been shot by the town guards." Zeke said, before walking away to go help the wounded. "Wait, what?" Several members of the mob said, confused. To them, weren't Zeke and his band of fighters supposed to be bandits intent on sacking, pillaging and looting? Why were they helping towns people. "Yeah. We would have taken them to Doc Nances, but the town guard shot at that too. Notice the fire coming out from over there? Doc Nances. They fucking shot the place up and burned it to the ground." Zeke continued to say, helping another resident drink a bottle of water. "No, they wouldn't do that. Your lying to us!" A few members of the mob said. "How do we know that you didn't just burn it!" "If I burned it, we would I be helping these people, HUH?" Zeke said, anger finally starting to flow through his voice. "And don't even get me started on what they did at the square." "What do you mean?" A couple members of the mob said. "Well, considering the fact that they basically massacred a bunch of civilians in the square, I would be saying your on the wrong side of the conflict." Zeks said. "I don't believe you." One of the members of the mob said. "Why would the town guard do that to it's own town?!" "I don't know. Go figure. So, if your going to kill us, go right on ahead. The last chance of your town being free is going right down the drain if you do." Zeke said, helping another wounded townsperson. "Oh yeah? Then what would you do to help this town then?" The one member of the mob said. "Well, first of all, we would make sure you guys could do whatever you wanted. And be able to afford it." Zeke said, drawing them in. "Ok then. How would be be able to afford it?" The same member of the mob asked, scoffing at Zeke. "Have you not noticed that Gerade has driven this economy to the ground? Think about it. Have you noticed that all the prices in town has gone up?" Zeke said, asking rhetorical questions to the mob. "Gerade's dragging this town with him." "Yeah, well, the booze is still cheap..." The same member of the mob said, drawing a few laughs from inside the mob. "About that. You know Gerade's all religious? Yeah. He's going to ban booze." Zeke said. "...What?" Several members of the mob said. "Yep. No longer will you be able to at least drink with friends and have fun together. Nope. He expects you all to be nice little god-fearing folk. You know, go to church everyday and then go home and work. No fun at all, just pray and work. Do you really want to do that until your dead?" "No!" A couple members of the mob said. "Do you really want to help the person who shot up your fellow townsfolk, massacred them, and burned down this towns hospital?" Zeke asked. "NO!" The mob responded louder. "Were promising freedom to choose your own path in life! No longer will you have to listen to some priest that only wants us to pray at his church! No longer will you have to listen to a priest that will slaughter the people he swore to protect just so he can eliminate a few of those people that want to have there own say in life! You can do whatever the hell you want, whenever the hell you please!" Zeke said, finishing up his speech. The mob gave a few shouts of approval. Most of them were on Zekes side. After all, they weren't the ones who burned down Doc Nances or massacred people in the square or let alone fire into a populated area. The few that weren't on Zekes side didn't do anything, fearing the anger of the mob. Maybe one or two weren't on Zekes side on the first place. Who would support a man who attacks his own civilians? "Alright. you guys, go out and retake the square with Finn and some of the townspeople. A few of you hang back and make sure none of the town-guards show up to attack more civilians." Zeke said. Most of the mob shambled off to where Finn and the townspeople were firing upon the various guards there. A few of them did hang back. The ones that did were a bit more sober then the rest, watching likely entrances for the town guards. Zeke then went back to helping the wounded. He would join the fray, soon enough. He just had to help the people he was liberating first. |
|
Jimmy Ronan Karmichael Sandoval - HC - Karmichael's current inventory ----------------------------------------------------- The Wastes TV Tropes page. Open edit Plat: If Hench is the monarch I'd willingly accept a life of serfdom. CP: homie you a rauccous college student why you need a bed time LMG: Hench is the real enemy of Democracy | |
![]() |
|
| Run4 | Aug 8 2010, 12:22 PM Post #23 |
![]()
Iron Crow
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Jackal watched smoke rising from the town with disgust. The smell of burning hides wafted over the smoky wind, burning his eyes and stinging his nostrils (or what was left of them anyway). Whatever side had done that, the town would be turning against them. He sighed and collected his thoughts, turning to face the squaddies who had followed him back to the town's "gateway" - the archway over the main road. He glanced around, spinning as he heard shouts. He grabbed one of the squaddies and shoved him out of an arrow's path. "Eyes wide sunshine, I might not be around next time," Jackal growled as he dropped into cover, firing at the oncoming guard with his Kala Rifle. Just one man. Running for freedom in the middle of the street. He staggered a few steps after Jackal's shot punched through his ribcage, splaying his blood over the sand. The man clutched at his chest as he staggered along in slow motion, gradually falling to his knees, and then onto his face. "Right, let's move. I'm still hearin' gunfire," Jackal snarled. He took a few steps, noting that only some of the squaddies were following. "Come on! Haul ass," Jackal barked at the slackers. One of them turned to him. "You ain't Hagan or Zeke, why're you givin' ordahs?" the man barked, striding up to Jackal and standing head and shoulders over him. "Because I'm an old hand at fighting. I've been killing folks since before you were a bubble in your da's balls," Jackal snapped. "And if I say no?" the Squaddie grunted. "I'll show you what the inside of your scrotum looks like," Jackal growled. The man pointed at him and went to say something, but before words formed, Jackal had him grasped by the index and middle fingers. He twisted the man's arm into a pronating lock, twisting his arm over and stretching his fingers to the verge of breaking. He twisted the arm again, bringing the man to his knees. Jackal locked eyes on him, frowning slightly. "Now, are you gonna behave, or am I gonna need to land you in a shallow grave?" Jackal growled, a low sound that vibrated in the gut as much as in the ears. The man just nodded. Jackal settled on waiting til later to break his fingers and shoved him away. He'd need that trigger hand for cutting off the retreat of the town guard heavies fleeing from . . . wherever it was they were fleeing from and nailing whatever else was near the centre of the town. "Now get to your feet before I do that with yer neck," Jackal rasped, glowing just enough to illuminate his teeth through the skin of his face. After becoming a Ghoul, Jackal found it was difficult to lead through being loved by those he fought with. Leading by fear became easier though. He wrenched the man to his standing by the hair, slinking between the buildings and dodging from alley to alley. It was slow, painful progress. The gunfire grew more intense and then petered out repeatedly, rattling violently and then becoming more spaced out in an unpredictable pattern. Jackal realised he knew that pattern of fire and slow. Cover and move. Cover and move. Someone knew how to leapfrog. Jackal stepped up to one of the buildings surrounding the square, shouldering in it's semi-barricaded door. He grunted and passed by a crying woman and a wailing child in the centre of the room. The crying child annoyed him. He stopped, turned back, crouched and locked eyes with the bawling tyke. He raised a finger to his lips and shushed the child. The child immediately shut up, but the woman mumbled something. "Easy girl. Keep yourself and the kid shut up and I won't kill ya," Jackal rasped, "It's not like you're Chinese or nothin'." Jackal grunted wordlessly and turned back to the window opening out onto the square. He noted some slobs marching into the square and some squaddies dragging the wounded around. Raiders treating the wounded. That was new. Jackal smiled his skull's smile. He decided there and then he'd picked the right side. Much as the still-sniffling child behind him made him want to slap it around the head and tell it to man up. He kicked out the window and crouched for cover. Not that the hovel would do jack shit, it just reduced his silhouette. He took a careful aim at a staggering moron in the centre of the square - clearly drunk, Jackal knew the signs - and dropped him. His none-too-reliable Kala took the man in the arm, rather than the chest, spinning him screaming to the ground. He snapped another shot at someone raising a gun - Jackal couldn't identify them - and squeezed the trigger again. This time the shot flew true, opening the poor bastard's chest. Jackal dropped the hissing Microfusion Cell from his weapon and fumbled a new one from his belt. He slammed it into place, tapping the bottom before re-energising the chamber. He fired again. Wild miss. It couldn't even class as suppressive fire. Couldn't even bluff that. Jackal cursed and left through the door he came in, circling around the square to avoid exposing himself to the shits in the middle. His squaddies followed suit, now mortally afraid of having the insides of their scrotums being exposed to the outside world as per Jackal's threat. Though by the look of them, they probably assumed their scrotums were in their necks. Idiots. Jackal sighed. At least they were smart enough to follow orders. And bar one, were stupid enough not to question them. He dragged himself around to the other squaddie-raider-whoever-the-fuck-they-weres, taking cover with a few of them and drawing that Swamper Machinegun. He dragged some of the chain of bullets from the hole-ridden, rust-pocked ammunition box fixed to the underside of the weapon and slid it into the breach. He slammed the breach cover back down and locked it, disengaging the safety and pulling the trigger. The gun sputtered and stopped. Jackal cursed and cleared the jam, pulling the bad round out of the way and drawing a fresher-looking slug into place. He disengaged the safety once more and squeezed the trigger. The gun kicked and rattled violently, vibrating in Jackal's hand and numbing his palms as it roared into life. He swore as more shots went wild. All it did was pin down the few guards he spotted and trained his fire on, bullets tracing deadly paths through the night. Until the gun sputtered to a halt again. Jackal cursed and cleared the breach, losing a good thirty seconds' firing time down in cover before he dug a damaged brass casing out of the chamber and cast it aside, forced to completely reload the weapon. He cursed and cursed, slapping the breach closed again and firing back into the night. "Come on ya sons o' bitches. Get up and get some while it's hot," Jackal snarled at the men he had pinned down, "Someone flank these bastards." |
[align=center]![]()
Caleb Wolff, Level 7 Tribal Ranger. (Inventory) Jackal, Level 5 Glowing Ghoul. (Inventory)[/align] | |
![]() |
|
| Munk | Aug 8 2010, 10:15 PM Post #24 |
![]()
One-Man Conga Line
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
Hagan saw the smoke and smelled the air. Freshly burnt wood and a myriad of other things. It smelled like a house fire with the distinctive tinge of chemicals and corpses. He’d smelled it before, long ago when the hospital went up during the Oil Protests in Dallas. They said it was an accident but everyone in town knew different. The death toll on that day was at least three hundred with many others injured. You could still see flakes from the corpses, charred and black, floating in the air around like a demented version of a winters snow. That’s what made him think of it now but it was the rumors and shouts floating rampantly through the smoke filled air that confirmed it. Nance’s had burned and the guard was responsible. Perfect, He thought. He was never one to pass up and opportunity like this but he didn’t quite have the speech skills necessary. He knew who did though. Hagan, along with Roy, Claude and a (barely) calm Dobbs, made their way through town, spreading the news where they could. They spread it to the townspeople, they spread it to the children, they spread it to their own men when they could. The Townguard had burned Nance’s and they were killing civilians. Eventually they had found who they were looking for.. Zeke was standing around, helping people however he could. He had a few raiders helping as well. Dobbs looked at the bodies of the dead and dying with sad, deep eyes, as if he felt pain for them. He hadn’t spoken to anyone since Jean had passed but you could read the suffering in his face, which had taken on a look of sudden aging. Hagan didn’t need that; he had enough problems without worrying about Dobbs. “Zeke.” Hagan said. “I need you for something.” He stood up from where he had been squatting next to a body, struggling to haul over to a small pile of corpses that sat in the corner of the area. He wiped his blood covered hands on his pants legs. It was odd, Hagan thought, to be having a conversation now. The gunfire still popped in small pockets around them. Screams, explosions, smoke and fire filled the air but here they were conversing over a dead body as if it was all so normal. Maybe it was, the Wasteland is a tough place after all. “What is it?” Zeke asked. “If I told you to gather up some townspeople and give them a rousing speech, do you think you could do it?” “Course. I reckon it wouldn’t be too hard. Most of them are in the noncombatant zones, squirreled away. I could do that.” Suddenly, the sound of gunfire and cheering picked up in the direction of the town gate. Everyone looked, even Dobbs. Hagan and Zeke shared a glance. “Can you handle it alone?” Hagan asked him. “I’ll take a few of the boys with me.” “Good idea.” Hagan nodded then gathered up Roy and the pit fighters. They all headed for the front-gate, avoiding the raging firestorm that was engulfing the town’s center. It was definitely the most intense part of the battle so far and many lay dead in the square, empty husks that may have been human at one point but weren’t much more than meat now. There were children dead, animals dead, women dead, men dead. Many of them innocents, running away from the crossfire and simply got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. That mistake cost them their lives. The town gate was in sight and the gunfire got louder here, nearly deafening. Hagan had to shout at Roy to take cover. The dirt around the area was in constant motion, exploding in little fountains where the bullets had missed their targets and buried themselves into the dirt. Screams could be heard, just barely. The muzzle flashes went off in an off-kilter rhythm between the defenders at Bucket town’s gates and the ones attempting to break through it. Hagan peeked over the cover long enough to see they were ghouls, a small crowd of them, well armed. One in particular looked familiar. Hagan recognized him from Unity Bridge, which made sense given all the ghouls. He hatched a plan in his head, maybe not exactly wise but it could work. He shouted for a cease fire among his own troops, the group closest to him stopped first, and the rest followed suit. The attackers quit shooting too, curious apparently. “Ha! You givin’ up?” Hagan heard a ghoul shout. The voice and confidence in speech very familiar to him. “Hale!” Hagan shouted. “That you?” The two groups were separated by about sixty feet of open ground with cover on each side to shield each group. One of the ghouls peeked his head out from the large, wide boulder they were using for protection. “Who the hell wants to know?” He yelled. “It’s Hagan! Remember me?” “Hymie? I don’t know you, Hymie!” “Not Hymie! Hagan! You and Sutton rescued me from a pack of dogs a while back!” “Wait, Three-fingered guy! I remember you! How are you?” Hagan stopped for a minute. It’s not a question he had exactly prepared for right now. “I’m just peachy given the circumstances! How are you?” Hagan thought it would be rude not to ask him back. The few raider guarding the gate were sharing confused looks at the conversation. “I’m fine! Hey, what are you doing over there?” “Surviving! Let’s talk closer! My throat’s getting sore from shouting!” “Alright, set your weapons down and come out slowly! We’ll meet in the middle!” Hagan shared a few glances with his men at the gate. He whispered “cover me” and took his rifle and hatchet and set them down. He took his pistol out from it’s holster and put it in his belt, just below the small of his back and covered it with his shirt and vest. He hoped it was concealed well enough. He put his arms out, showing his palms and breathed deeply before stepping out from the small barricade he’d been behind. The ghouls ahead had their guns all trained on him but Hale was out and walking toward him. He didn’t have his hands up but they looked empty. Hagan approached him. They met in the middle, just as planned. “Howdy.” Hale said. “Where’s Sutton? He‘s normally with you.” Hagan asked. “Right now, Sutton has a thirty-ought-six scoped in on your forehead. I wouldn’t worry about him though. You’re not planning anything funny because I’m sure you realize how big of a mistake that would be.” Hale smiled smugly. He was certainly like Hagan remembered. He looked remarkably nonchalant as he said: “So what’s up? You taking over Bucket Town or what?” “No. I’m liberating Bucket Town.” “That ain’t what I heard. I heard you were attacking it.” “Well. I kinda am. There can be no progress without a little blood, sweat and toil.” Hale sniffed the air. “Smells like mostly blood.” “Necessary losses.” Hagan said. “So, are you stupid?” He asked, a little curtly. “Huh?” “I asked if you were stupid. You do realize that Unity relies on trade from Bucket town right? You really didn’t think we’d just let you kill Bucket Town, did ya?” “I’m not killing it.” “From what I see, hear and smell, that’s exactly what you’re doing.” “Hale, I’m telling you. I have plans that will make Bucket Town more successful. You know Gerade was running the town to the ground. His religious intolerance was strangling the economy.” “Bucket Town was fine.” Hale said. He took a package of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one up. He lit another and passed it to Hagan. Hagan took it and said thanks before continuing. “No. It wasn’t fine. It was an unfair way of doing business that was decreasing profit. Tell me, you’re a hunter, do you get your moneys worth when you sell to Bucket Town caravans?” “No, not really. I fail to see your point though.” “My point is the economy sucks and it can get better. We can make it better. If the economy continues dying then people will give up on Bucket Town. Once Bucket town is empty, who helps Unity?” Hale shrugged. Hagan continued. “ Unity dies too. But, we’re making Bucket town strong. We’re making Unity strong by simple logic as well. We have plans. Bucket Town is going to prosper and people will be happier.” Hale seemed to think about it. “Making Unity stronger, huh?” Hagan smiled. “Yeah sure, think about it. More money for hides, more trade routes, increased productivity. Unity will be stronger than ever.” Hale finished his cigarette and chewed on his lip a little. Hagan took a moment to explain the plan to Hale, who seemed to consider it and asked questions. They stood out there for awhile, against the background of a city in turmoil and chaos. The smell was thinner outside the town but Death still rode along the breeze, bringing the odor of the dead to rise and clog Hagan’s nostril. Animals would be attracted to the carnage soon. After Hagan had finished telling Hale the plan he seemed more relaxed, despite the seemingly never ending supply of firearms and the surly men who wielded them. “I’m not sure I completely agree with the not voting shit but hell, I don’t live here, it don’t matter to me none. It sounds like a decent plan.” “You’ll help?” “Eh. I’d rather trust you than that smoothskin who ran into Unity earlier. Remember though, I’m doing this for the sake of Unity. If I see any shit that could be negative, I’m out and my men are out too.” [GHOUL] “Smoothskin?" Hagan asked. "Hell, far too many of them are a little too happy to lynch our kind.” “I reckon.” Hale said. “They wanted our help though.” “One guy. One guy wanted your help. You think any humans are going to be able to tell the difference between you and me at a distance? Or rather, do you think they’d give a damn? I can tell my men to avoid shooting any ghouls in town and I can guarantee your safety from friendly fire. I’m sure that Gerade can’t say the same, even if he wasn’t hiding like a coward, leaving his own people to die.” “Is that right?” Hale thought for a moment. “I guess we’ll help but you gotta tell your men not to fire on any ghouls.” “If you shoot at them, they’re going to shoot back. I can’t help that. You have to tell your men not to fire at mine otherwise I can’t guarantee you anything.” “Fair enough." He gazed behind Hagan’s shoulder, into the town. To tell you the truth, Bucket Town’s guards don’t matter to me anymore than your attackers do. I was just glad to finally get a chance to shoot at something that would shoot back.” He laughed a little then said: “Hey, I ever tell you about the time me and Sutton strapped a bunch of rifles to a molerat so the guns would shoot while it ran at us?” “No. I don’t believe you’ve ever told me that one.” Hagan raised an eyebrow. Hale laughed much harder. “It’s a hell of a story. I’ll tell you later.” Hale whistled and other ghouls, much more cautious than Hale had been, poked their heads out. Hale shouted to them to come out and Hagan told his men to hold their fire. The two groups were rather awkward with each other, considering they had just been intending to kill the other not three minutes ago. They shook hands and formed what could be rather strenuously be called a truce. It was definitely not what Hagan had been expecting but it gave them more numbers, even if they weren’t exactly solid numbers. Meanwhile: In Town Zeke moved from house to house. He was exhausted between dodging the fire squads and the general debris left over from the fight. He made a mental note to come through this area again, the thickest bits of fighting seemed to have passed through already. It had left not only a lot of bodies but the possessions those body had held. They’d be good to turn for a profit later but right now it was important that he get a small congregation of people to listen. “Folks! Townspeople!” He shouted like a carnival caller. “Come forth and hear the truth! Come from far and wide to attend the meeting where I shall show you the folly of Gerade and his cabinet! I will show you the way and the light! I will show you how wrong Gerade is!” A few people poked their heads out from alleyways but moved no further. Zeke had instructed his raider protection to stay behind a little ways so he appeared to be alone. He turned and saw what remained of a tipped caravan. It was full of bullet holes and blood but there was a big prominent flag on it. It was flashy and attention grabbing. Zeke grabbed it and stood it up. The caravan cart was a flatbed, tipped over to make a wall. He tipped that too, making a platform. He stood up on the platform and pointed to the people who had poked there heads out. “You people! You seek the truth, I see. Come forward and gather.” They didn’t budge. Zeke figured that it was time to switch it up. He put on his best shit-eating grin, straightened his clothes and made big flourishes with his arms. “I suppose that you’ll have to hear from the safety of that alleyway. That’s fine, that’s fine. Gearde is doing the same thing you know. Hiding in safety while listening. One difference. You know what he hears?” Zeke paused, letting them think about the question. “The screams of the dead and the dying. That's what Gerade hears. He hears the desperate cries of children for their mothers and do you think he cares? Of course he doesn’t. Where is he now?” Zeke looked around, eyed the people. He had them in rapt attention. “He’s gone, ladies and gentlemen; squirreled away in his own personal bunker. He’s got food, water, protection but what did he leave you, my dear fellows? Nothing; zip; zilcho; nada. Gerade is gone when you need him most but you know you is here for you?” They looked at each other and rather subconsciously or not, they stepped a little out of the alleyway. Zeke smiled larger. He was really putting on the ritz out here, hoping the battle didn’t edge back to his location. “Folks, I will tell you who is here! The resistance. I know what you are thinking, who are the resistance, why do we need them and what are they doing? Well I’ll tell you. We are The Resistance. We’re out there fighting for you freedom, ladies and gentlemen. We are the ones bringing down the tyrannical reign of the High and Might Gerade!” Zeke toned it down. “But… it’s not all about Gerade. Oh no, no, no. It’s about you. That’s right; each and every one of you. The Resistance cares about you and we care about Bucket Town. We want to give you your freedom back. I’m sure you’ve noticed the banning of various things. Sure, at first they were big things like chems or prostitution but what happens when he tries to ban beer or firearms? Eventually, he’ll try to morph this whole town to his power-hungry fancy. You’ll all be working under the crushing weight of the church or worse. We promise you a chance to oppose, to rise up and take your freedom into your own hands.” The people in the alleyways had stepped out a little further and a few new people had taken their place, awkwardly staring out at the high energy little man dancing atop a flatbed spreading propaganda. “Ladies! Gentlemen! Gather ‘round from all around, come and hear the truth!” Zeke said, waving them forward. A few came, most were still nervous but followed the first few people to the wagon. It only takes one brave soul to move a city of people. Folks had a funny way of gaining courage from the person ahead of them. He had them at full attention right now, gathered in a small half-circle at the front of the wagon. He would point at various people while he talked. Right now though, he pointed at the rising smoke that stood as a stark contrast to the bright sky. “Do you see that folks? Do you see what Gerade and his guard have wrought upon you? That is no holy pillar of smoke, no sign from the Lord Almighty. That smoke is the only thing left of Doc Nance’s. That’s right, it’s been burned completely to the ground.” That got a few mumbles, gasps or whispers flowing in and out of the crowd, each person feeding on the emotions of the ones around them. “I’m sad to admit it but that’s the way it is. And yet, who did it? Gerade’s Lackeys. Now, I don’t know about you good folks but I’d rather not live in a town where the people most responsible for my well-being go around burning the doctor’s office.” He pointed into the crowd at a man with a big, gash on his head. “You sir! What will you do after this battle has ended? Will your head heal on it’s own, safe from infection and disease? I doubt it without proper medical equipment. And where will you get such things now?” He let that sink in with the man before pointing to another person in the crowd. This time a woman who looked to be about seven months pregnant. “Miss! Where will your baby be born? In filthy tent , far away from medicine proper or perhaps in the Wasteland when you’re too weak to defend yourself or your child from animals and humans alike. Without a sterile environment, the mortality rate for everyone goes up. Where will you care for the wounded after this is over? And who fault is it that you are dying and hurt and frightened? It's Gerade’s of course. He’s not even here to defend himself. Locked away safely somewhere, possibly, he’s already left the city.” Zeke chuckled. “Such wonderful defenders, are they not?“ He calmed down for a minute to let them talk amongst themselves. The pregnant woman was holding her belly tightly and the men was poking at his head wound. They looked themselves over for injuries, showing their own to their neighbors and their neighbors showed their own wounds to their own neighbors. The crowd had grown larger now and Zeke looked them over. They were scared, they were angry, they were perfect. “Residents of Bucket Town!” He shouted again, gaining their attention once more. “I implore you! Look around at what Gerade has done! We, the resistance, have done nothing wrong and yet your friends, your family are all lying dead. Their bodies lay riddled with Gerade’s “holy justice”. Is that who you want to lead? Is that who you want your children to look up too? Is that who you want defending your lives?” They shared scattered murmurings and agreements. Leeches, Zeke thought, each a parasite, feeding off the energy of the ones around them. It was perfect though, he couldn’t complain and more people were coming to join the group. He would spoon-feed them lies, propaganda and hate. They would grow fat and nourished and then he could use them. Zeke widened his grin and welcome the newest members to the group. They looked starving. |
|
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
| |
![]() |
|
| Ronto | Aug 9 2010, 10:11 AM Post #25 |
|
Capt. Procrastinate
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
George stopped firing, he ejected the clip and cleared the chamber of the last round, putting int in his pocket, the LMG was severely overheated. He scanned the horizon only to find a quite large group of ghouls approaching. George dumped his bottle of water onto the gun's barrel, steam went everywhere with a loud 'Tsssssssss' noise. He chambered another clip and cocked the gun, the bolt snapped into place with a satisfying 'click' as a round was chambered. George knew that he need to hold off those ghouls until the town was reinforced. "Righty oh boys! We got ourselves a couple dozen ghoulies commin' this way! Let's hold this gate until the boss comes to sort this out. Remember, don't fire yet! Don't all out massacre them if we can work out a deal" George hoped this would cheer the men up. He looked around, the men were ready, and the ghouls were in range. George layed down and ajusted the rusty, bent bipod and aimed down his sights. "Alright boys! HOLD YOUR FIRE!" George screamed at the top of his lungs as he switched on the saftey. The gunfire ceased every where, the ghouls still spread out and hid behind cover fearing a ruse. At least they're pre-occupied. He thought. George saw a guard in the street behind him and fired half a dozen more rounds before the gun jammed. He slung it over his back and moved behind the line of fire to fix the jam. He unloaded the clip and tried clearing the magazine, the bad round bounced out of the chamber and fell off the rooftop. It was quickly replaced by the large copper-colored banana clip. He inspected his surroundings to get a grip on the situation. It seemed like the fighting in the center of town was dying down, and that the bodies were piling up. Doc Nance's was burned to the ground and Zeke was nowhere to be found. White ran back to his line and set up his LMG, ready to fire at a moment's notice, he looked down on the street to see a man, seemingly in charge, but he was a ghoul, he was ordering an already effective cease fire. It seemed like the ghoul was going to call a truce and convince the ghouls that revolution was for the best, that economy would go up and shit like that. Sure George cared about prices of everyday goods and ammo but he also had a raging desire to overthrow the current Leadership because of all the laws and regulations, one of the main reasons why he left his home back in Detroit. The man, rumored to be named Hagan stepped out into the open only to be intercepted by another ghoul, they began to negotiate over a smoke. George was watching, his gun trained on the ghouls behind the meeting. As he tried to remain calm and not accidentally discharge his gun into a glowing meat sack, a hand grabbed his shoulder, it was Allin, a raider he had met earlier in the battle and had gotten along with quite well. "George, come with me. We're going to help suppress the pinned down guards in the Town Center, I'm also bringing, Clog, Jester and Crow." George nodded and slung his RPK over his back, it was a heavy piece of work, but he was enjoyng every moment with it. "Right boys! We're On The Move! Hagan has this area, let's get our ass's down to the town square and help good ol' Zeke. George and Allin jumped down off the roof and onto a pile of crates. The remaining half dozen men followed him. He figured the truce would go on without him as he ran from one building to another finally nearing the square, they decided to take cover in a medium sized shack/building beside a large group of tents. He told the men 'under his command' to set up suppressing fire in and around the building, they were to secure the square by the end of the day. They prepared to suppress the square. "At the count of three, we do it, they won't know we're here. One....two.....three!" The five men all swung out of cover and began to unload their weapons onto the pinned guards, some of which were caught by surprise. After the end of the first barrage if fire, half a dozen fresh bodies lay dead. George sat back into cover and reloaded his old, worn and rusty gun. "Right boys, now spread out and prepare to flush the rest of them out, we charge if we have to, it's over." |
|
[align=center]Joe Pera 7,9,7,4,5,5,3 Level: 1 [/align] | |
![]() |
|
| Zilabus | Aug 10 2010, 02:14 PM Post #26 |
|
Er'ry day I'm overseein'
![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]()
|
With the people Zeke's attempts to calm and convert may have worked on some, but they've fallen on many a def ear, as well. A few peple are thinking, and a few are even getting patched up by the attackers hands, but it would be foolhardy to say you've converted the whole town to your cause, rather, you may have earned a chunk of them. Positive effect In the pathways and between the houses Jackal and company have been battling hard against the hardcore defenders for some time now. At the end of the day, he has much of the town cleared, but his allies are few and scattered by now. He has a good bit of the defenders in a firefight at the moment, but time will tell what happens to them. Neutral effect Outside of town Hagan talked the ghouls down from gunning him and everyone vaguely associated with him down, but it's not as if they're out to help him out, either. They head in town, looking to cool down all the fighting more then anything, and assess the damage. Neutral effect On the edge of town Overheating machine rifle + brittle and cracked barrel + cold water. The barrel has completely cracked and is now loose in it's furniture. Just like in other areas of town while you have control for now, it came at a high cost. Your recources dwindle. Neutral effect |
|
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 | |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · Settlements · Next Topic » |
- Pages:
- 1
- 2
| Theme: Zeta Original | Track Topic · E-mail Topic |
11:06 AM Jul 11
|





![]](http://z1.ifrm.com/static/1/pip_r.png)






11:06 AM Jul 11