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Chaos Vs. Control; Jackal vs. Eli
Topic Started: Aug 25 2010, 12:59 PM (1,209 Views)
Zilabus
Member Avatar
Er'ry day I'm overseein'
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Currently one large hide wager, although this may be changed if agreed on before the end of the showdown. Disputes will be handles by the judge of the showdown. Other character's can join if interested, and if it makes sense from an in character perspective. All weapons allowed, large area of play, contained within four or five blocks of this set of ruins. Likely go to end it around the third page-ish. ))

Eli never believed in ghost stories, although they where ridiculously common. Some spooked tribal steps on a landmine, and it's instantly the curse of the gods. Relatively civilized folk, mercenaries or the like, would get cleanly wiped out by a bunch of eaters, and in imaginations everywhere some giant monster killed them. The same was probably true of the small-time legend of 'Jackal'. Eli heard a little bit about him from a group of tribals.

If they where to believed, they where mistaking a glowing ghoul for some sort of angry spirit. Eli was getting out of town, but he figured the best target practice in the world would be something that literally lit up, and maybe he would be taking a step to smoothing out one more crazy illogical tribal legend. Eli checked his smoke grenades, shaking them to hear the correct 'tink' noise of glass. He'd made a few molitovs just for his journey, and he made sure they where in order, too. Even the firecrackers he'd found had their place as a weapon.

This was it. A large stretch of ruins that was supposed be where the wraith was supposed to be haunting. More likely just a glowing ghoul siting. Eli made his way to the top of a second story building, careful to close all doors and replace all rubble behing him. He had no idea if glowing 'zombies' where paticularly different then the normal variety, but he figured a good deal of sound attracted just about everything. He yelled in a high voice "Come on out, Jackal. I'm looking to break into the patchy motherfucker killing business." He heard his voice faintly echo back to him.
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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Run4
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Iron Crow
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Quote:
 
"Come on out, Jackal. I'm looking to break into the patchy motherfucker killing business."


Jackal sat up sharply from where he'd been slouched over a table, inspecting the rust on his new cleaver. A lot of it was blood-induced, by the look of it. Pig Bitch didn't clean his blades. Probably some sick superstition about letting the blood lie on the blade. But the edge was razor sharp. Jackal spun it in his grip, getting a feel for it. Then slid it into the leather sheathe he'd pulled from Pig Bitch's belt. He rose from his seat, pulling his prybar from his belt and banging it on the ground. Then the wall, then stepping out of his building and ringing the prybar against a galvanized fence post. The ringing echoed across the small village ruins.

"Sunshine, I've been around longer than you. I'll be around long after your smoothskin ass dies," Jackal bellowed back, "This is your last chance to run away and come back after your balls drop."

He dodged into the next house and moved towards what he assumed was the source of the noise - the Copperton end of the village. He couldn't pinpoint it any better than that. He dragged his prybar along the ground, kicking through doors as he went. He was giving his approach away, but he was in cover. The psychological effects of the steel dragging along concrete and tiled floors was worth giving away that he was coming. As he reached the next door, he slipped the prybar into his belt and unslung his Kala Rifle.

He scanned the area. He was in the Copperton end of the ruins - i.e. the half of the hamlet near Copperton. He grumbled as he cleared the building, room by room. Not that there was a lot of clearing to do in a house missing it's stairs and second floor. No luck here. He kicked out the front door and moved on to the next building. Still no sign of the aggressor. He sighed and looked up in the air.

"Marco!" Jackal roared, "If you answer I'll be nice and kill you before I nail you to a cross!"
[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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Ronto
Member Avatar
Capt. Procrastinate
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
George had began to walk out of Buckettown through the old ruins of a small suburb. He was leaving town hoping to find some lootable materials in the old houses. On his way out of town, he was also told of a glowing spirit by the name of Jackal haunting the ruins. George knew Jackal from the battle, he was a glowing ghoul and a scary sonofabitch, he was dangerous but Jackal also knew George, he had no real intention of fighting anyone at the moment, all he wanted was loot. George began walking onto the ruined suburb, it was eerie and quiet. He began to hear shouts from a man that George guessed was roughly 175 yards away, it seemed like he was hunting for Jackal.

George reloaded his rifle as he crouched down. He had a bad feeling that shit would soon hit the fan and that he would and that he would soon be caught in the middle.
George slowly entered a house and sat down beside a window, he figured Jackal was lurking in the side farthest from Buckettown and whoever else one the side nearest, he was in the middle. George propped his rifle onto the window ledge and waited, this was going to get tricky.
[align=center]Joe Pera
7,9,7,4,5,5,3
Level: 1

[/align]
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Zilabus
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Er'ry day I'm overseein'
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
It didn't take long for the creature, who he assumed was Jackal, to reply. It was the usually raider psych-out type of fair. Eli laughed quietly to himself and pulled out a cigarette. It was definately pretty creepy, having some mysterious raspy voice call out for your testicles, but he focused on lighting his cigarrette. You couldn't let that kind of thing bother you, in his experience. He heard a long, raspy, metalic sound. Metal dragging against the ruins.

It made it very, very hard to concentrate, but it had the secondary effect of revealing a rather faraway location. He heard the loud slam of a door being kicked open. Eli had time, and he used it, pulling out the shotgun he'd traded out for earlier in the day. It was heavy, but he didn't intend on using it full time. He placed it behind him facing the only door up to the roof of the building. He did a few quick turns to make sure the shotgun was in the ready position.

He heard a second loud set of raspy yelling, slightly closer this time. Crucifiction was definately a new one, as far as standard pissed off shouts went. Eli kept his thoughts to himself, checking his newly earned laser pistol. It was suprisingly well made, wherever it had come from, although all of it's instructions where in some odd tribal language.

Eli quickly went back down to the second floor of the ruined store he was holding out on, and then the first. Nothing gave a little added piece of mind like dropping a spare landmine or two. He headed back up to his flat rooftop hiding spot. He set his laser pistol next to the lip and leaned up against it. It wasn't much, but he could still keep himself covered. The grinding noise had stopped, but the forced opening of doors hadn't.

He yelled again, this time in a much softer voice. "Alright boys, he's out and about now. Let's sweep through and capture the sumbitch."
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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Run4
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Iron Crow
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
"He said there were others!"

"Shut up Liam. He's gotta be bluffing. Gotta be."

"Should be prepared anyway."

"Good point. Remedy is to keep moving."

Jackal moved from one house to the next, keeping his eyes open. He wasn't taking any chances. He kept close to buildings, moving in and out through side and back doors, darting across streets using wrecked cars for cover. Play low, stay low. Then gut these motherfuckers. Jackal shouldered his way through the rotten door of another house, two streets on the Copperton side of the halfway mark, taking the chance to sit and get a breather.

He leaned against the wall and took stock. If he really needed to, he could pump himself full of Psycho. He'd seen what that shit could do if you injected it directly into the heart. He sighed and moved on. No sense in staying still. He burst out the back door of his little fortress, glancing around again. Still no sign of whoever that prick had been calling to. He could, however, pick out where the sound was coming from better at this point. It was near the very far end of the town. He glanced up.

"That's a pretty good vantage point," Jackal thought to himself as he spotted a taller building. Intact roof and all by the look of it. "Take that and you're golden. Be able to see where they are and all."

Jackal moved again, vaulting a rattling chainlink fence. He growled. That probably gave away his position. He performed a full 360 check, military precision returning for a split second before it degraded into civilian flailing once more. He weaseled his way in through the Dog Door of the next building, electing not to make masses of noise now that he knew he was up against a group.

He pushed the front door open and charged across the street to the far terrace. Close to where the voice had come from now. Close to his chosen vantage point. He sprinted full-tilt, knowing he was probably right in the middle of their fanned-out search group. He hugged the wall and made for that building, noting only now that there'd probably be a spotter on top if they came from that end. Who had probably seen him dart across that last street.

"Bollocks," Jackal grunted to himself, climbing into a back garden and preparing for combat.

"Should've just run away."
[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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HenchmenF
Wasteland leader
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Ellis walked around, slowly. His left arm was still in a sling, and his machine gun was safely tied down to his back. That left his flame-thrower, but, if he had to he could defend himself. At least at close quarters anyway.

Ellis played with his new cleaver, mainly just weighing it in his hands while he walked around absent mindly. Then, he looked up to hear a man shouting something about how people should circle someone else.

Quote:
 
"Alright boys, he's out and about now. Let's sweep through and capture the sumbitch."


Ellis stopped for a second. He had seen someone else, running around. Still, there was one guy yelling to himself. What an odd fellow.

"HEY, IDJUT. THERES ONLY ONE OF YEW." Ellis shouted to the man, scratching his head. "WHAT ARE YEW, SOME KINDA IDIOT?!?!"
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
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Ronto
Member Avatar
Capt. Procrastinate
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
George eyed the street, Jackal was on the move, he saw a faint glimpse of him as he dug in. George took a few seconds to eye his surroundings. He was in a small garden shed. Tin walls, one door, One window and a solid roof. It was good cover. George slowly moved into a corner and grabbed a spare chair that was sitting there. He jammed it into the door "locking" it.

George took of his bandoleer and put it to his side. His knife stayed in his boot.

"Alright boys, he's out and about now. Let's sweep through and capture the sumbitch."

George heard the man on the closer side of Buckettown yell out this act of "encouragement".
He's bluffing, they would of moved in by now or made some noise.
George took out his lighter and lit a cigarette, he slowly closed the semi-ruined window-pane hoping to provide some more cover.

As George slowly puffed on his cig, he heard another voice.
"HEY, IDJUT. THERES ONLY ONE OF YEW." A man shouted from in between George's imaginary boundaries,"WHAT ARE YEW, SOME KINDA IDIOT?!?!"
George laughed, some redneck hick had decided to join their fun. George had an idea. He slowly wrapped his brown-grey homemade keffiyeh around his rifle's barrel. He leaned it out the window slowly.
"Right George, don't pick a fight, just observe."
[align=center]Joe Pera
7,9,7,4,5,5,3
Level: 1

[/align]
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Zilabus
Member Avatar
Er'ry day I'm overseein'
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Suddenly, a chainlink fence rattled, much closer then the earlier intrusions. Something was heading closer and closer to him. He grabbed his laser pistol and steadied himself against the lip of the building. A figure darted acrossed the street. Definately a ghoul, by first glance. Eli cursed, not fast enough to get a shot in on the running figure.

He did get a fix on the bastard's location though, in the backyard of a building not far away from his high vantage point, and just barely out of his line of vision. He slowly moved his off hand, grabbing one of the smoke grenades and smashing it against the ground. He held his hand over the hole from which the smoke was about to pour for a second, when a sudden second figure appeared.

A smelly looking tribal had just given away his ruse, and was now standing in the street just below Eli's tall vantage point. Eli thought quickly, throwing the smoke grenade into the backyard of the animal he'd first came into the ruins to hunt. It began pouring out acrid, thick smoke as it arced through the air and into the space behind the suburban house. "Fuck you," Eli took the same hand and struck a match, lighting a molitove cocktail.

He lobbed it down into the street below, hearing it shatter against the pavement, followed by the reassuring noise of ignition. ", and fuck you too." Switching gears back to his laser pistol, he re-aimed at the backyard. He fired a good five rounds into the backyard where Jackal was assumed to have been, although now it was just a thick layer of smoke. He smiled. The laser pistol had almost no recoil, and it was pretty damn accurate, too, although an exposed lense near the trigger would burn him if he wasn't careful. All in all, a good buy.

He blind-fired a shot or two down in the smelly tribals direction before preparing to light a pre-war firecracker. There was no reason to be stingey when life or death could very well be the difference between killing the ghoul now or letting it close in on him.
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
Offline Mini Profile Goto Top
 
Run4
Member Avatar
Iron Crow
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Shouting in the street. Only one of the attackers?

"Told ya so!"

Jackal looked back up at the building. One man in an easily-defended position. This would not be easy. He raised his eyebrow as a . . . rock? Arced off the roof towards him. He had certainly been seen. He frowned. Rocks didn't spout smoke.

"GRENADE!"

"Jesus fuck!" Jackal barked as the grenade arced towards him, smoke billowing from one end, forming a thick grey spiral as it spun through the air towards him - from the building top.

Pulling his scarf up to cover his nose and mouth, Jackal jumped towards it - intent on getting into the cover of the smoke where his quarry couldn't see him. He landed on top of the smoke grenade. He felt around it. Not too hot. Though the smoke stung his eyes and made them water, he grinned devilishly and picked the Smoke Grenade up from the ground, running for the garden fence, spreading the smoke cloud and masking his path. A laser bolt pierced the cloud, grazing and burning the grass - dangerously close. Jackal vaulted the fence once the smoke had spread nicely into the next garden and made for the tall building.

He crept along, clearing two gardens at this pace before the Smoke Grenade ran out of puff. He cursed and vaulted another fence, digging into the dubious cover of a house's side passageway, putting the building between himself and the man in the tower. He rubbed his eyes and let them sting away while he took stock. His quarry had the high ground, and a gun. Jackal snatched a box from the ground and set it up under the house's side window. He shattered the window with his rifle stock, cleared the frame of slivers and climbed through into the cover of the townhouse.

He worked his way through the house, crashing out through the front door and jumping into cover again, careful to avoid exposing himself to the roof for too long. That laser whatever was more accurate at range than Jackal's own ramshackle device. Just one more building and he'd be at his target. However, this was, at best, a three-way, with the arrival of the shouting lunatic who'd exposed the roof man's gamble. At worst, a two-on-one, if the man had . . .

"What if he was saying there's only one of me?" Jackal thought.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid! He was talking to me, not the prick on the roof!"

Jackal jumped another fence and repeated his trick with the next house's side window, busting it in and climbing into the safety of the house and taking stock again. So at least two attackers. Just one Jackal. They could try. They'd fall like the rest. He'd skin 'em and string 'em up from the lamp posts. He smiled his vicious, skull-like smile and moved again.

"Last building. Let's start shredding," Jackal thought as he snaked his way out through the front door.

He wormed around to the side of the stranger's building, noting with some annoyance that it was the only one nearby with an intact roof and roof stairs - otherwise it was a small matter of climbing to the roof of the building he'd just left and perforating the stranger from an unexpected angle. But no. Things always had to be shit for Jackal. Things always had to be difficult for Jackal. Jackal never won. Jackal always lost. That's why Jackal lived in a ruined powerplant and drove a fucking hatchback!

"Well I'm gonna change that. This time, I win," Jackal thought to himself, entirely unsure as to whether or not he'd said that out loud as he scrambled over the side gate of the house and broke in through the kitchen window. The street was on fucking fire, which prevented handy entry via the front door. He stalked his way to the stairs, his Kala Rifle shouldered and ready.
[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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HenchmenF
Wasteland leader
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Ellis, for a moment, did nothing. He didn't move, he didn't breath, he didn't blink. His eyes were trained on the little scorch mark next to leg. Slowly, his teeth started chattering. Then he slowly started backing away, eyes still trained on the scorch mark.

"La-la-la-la-la..." Ellis began to stutter. He continued back away slowly, eyes widening in abject terror.

"Laser." Ellis said softly, before bolting out of there. He didn't take one look back. All he did was ask who the man was talking too. Instead, he was shot at by a laser weapon. Ellis continued sprinting, all the way back to bucket-town.

((OOC: So, yeah. Looks like I'm out of the fight.))
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
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Ronto
Member Avatar
Capt. Procrastinate
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
George looked around slowly, he remained unseen as he scanned the area, it was getting quiet for a minute or two, then all hell broke loose. Up from the top of an old building, a small smoking object was thrown down into the street followed by a short barrage of lazer fire.

There you are you rat bastard! George thought as he aimed his rifle and fired a shot into the tower. He quickly ducked down and reloaded his rifle. He saw that the smoke had begun to move into a house. Jackal covering himself no doubt.

George loaded his gun and fired at the tall building again before ducking back down.
He didn't know who this guy was and if he was hostile. George didn't want to make that mistake. He reloaded but stuck to cover as he observed the battle.
[align=center]Joe Pera
7,9,7,4,5,5,3
Level: 1

[/align]
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Zilabus
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Er'ry day I'm overseein'
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
The tribal down below fled quickly after a few stray laser blasts, and Eli realized he had no idea how many shots where in the odd, battery like cartrages the gun took. He pondered it for a short second as the fire in the street below burned on it's only fuel source. He kept a sharp eye on the cloud of smoke in the yard just a block away. He didn't waste any more rounds, but the smoke left a convienient, although vague, trail informing him of the ghouls location. More gunfire, although this time from a more distant location and angle.

The second shot cut ridiculously close, piercing a hole in one of the smoke grenades he had resting against a ledge. So Jackal was really just a group of raiders who followed around some stupid feral. Eli had probably bitten off more then he could chew, but he still had the superior position, and he'd already sent one running. Bailing out now wasn't an option. The fuse on his first cherrybomb was burning short. "Fuck you three, you son of a bitch." He chucked it in the vague direction where the shots where coming from and followed it with a full three more shots at different possible buildings he was gussing the attacker had chosen. Ten shots to a cartridge, Eli soon found out, and he quickly replaced the old spent one with a fresh looking version. He tried to refocus on the ghouls movement, and realized suddenly he was nowhere to be found.

He heard a rasping voice muffled below him. He got below the lip on the side of the roof to avoid and more stray gunfie and got ready, opening the door to the stairwell. There was another door at the bottom of this flight, and the second he saw movement he was more then ready to plow it. He prepared a molitov and a smoke grenade, one for his off hand and one for a kick from his left foot. He braced the shotgun and then the laser pistol immediately next to him for a quick switch. He even tied a small set of cherrybombs together as one thick wick.

Now all he needed was for the ghoul to come rushing up like the stupid feral he was, and maybe even trigger a hidden mine on the way. "You know what's funny? You gotta be close to two hundred, maybe even three hundred years, I don't know how that patchy shit works. You've got ten years of experience for every one year of mine, and I still outsmarted you like an animal. I guess the first few years you ran into some spooked tribals and you been usin' the same shit scare tactics sense then, huh? Least most ferals got the sense to stay in the dark where they fuckin' belong."

Eli was ready to end the ghost stories.
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
Offline Mini Profile Goto Top
 
Run4
Member Avatar
Iron Crow
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Jackal inched towards the front of the house, advancing on the stairs. This . . . group of . . . whatever the fuck they were . . . was starting to annoy him. He heard a rifle crack, immediately diving to the ground. No round hammered through the building at him. He sighed with relief and rose to a low crouch, incing towards the stairs. Something shifted below his feet.

CLICK

He froze, stock-still.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck . . ."

He glanced down at the landmine peeking out at him from under a light scrap of curtain. He cursed under his breath. Don't move. Don't move. Don't move. As long as the pressure plate stayed down, everything was golden. Unless dick features from up on the roof put in an appearance. Steady . . . steady now . . . take it easy . . . don't fucking move . . . He bent down slowly, pressing his thumbs down on the pressure plate to keep it depressed. He slowly lifted the mine to keep it level - if this thing had a tilt fuse, he'd be fucked.

"Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic," Jackal thought to himself as he inched along the floor towards somewhere he could throw the mine and get to cover.

So this prick was a smartass. With his mines and his smoke and his lasers.

"I hate him already."

"Not we anymore?"

"Not right now, no. We need to co-operate. I'm carrying a mine for Christ's sake!"

"Agreed."

He moved to the overturned kitchen table, crouching behind it and reaching over the table, keeping the pressure plate pushed down. Don't panic. Don't panic. Don't panic. He dropped the mine and curled. The bang was . . . louder than loud, but not deafening. Nerve-jangling seemed appropriate. Jackal lay on his side behind the benighted table, hands over his ears, mouth open to prevent the pressure wave bursting his eardrums. A cloud of grey-brown dust hung in the air, making the venerable Ghoul cough and splutter as he stood.

Jackal winced and reached downwards, pulling a long sliver of table from his calf, blood leaking into his jeans and his boot. Well . . . that's . . . inconvenient. Jackal tossed the sliver aside, not quite managing to ignore the pain. He vented frustration, kicking a lump of brick across the room. It bounced off the stairs.

CLICK

"Son of a bitch!" Jackal yelped, diving over the table as a second mine went off.

He lay on the floor, shaking, staring into the middle distance. Close. Bloody close. Too fucking close. This prick SO has to die. He stood shakily, adrenaline pumping now, and glowed, following the lunatic shadows his light cast in the darkness to get to the stairs. He dragged himself up one floor, sitting down and rubbing his punctured calf and checking for splinters in the wound. Didn't want to die from infection after killing Dick Features on the roof and all his buddies. He sighed and dragged his sorry ass to the next stairs.

"Take it easy. This guy's one sly prick. Go slow," Jackal thought to himself as he reached the door to the stairs, shouldering his rifle again. One more flight of stairs and this prick is mine. He eased the door open slowly, moving the muzzle of his rifle into the open crack before exposing himself to any fire.
[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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Ronto
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Capt. Procrastinate
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
George peered out of cover to see Jackal enter the building and advance. His first shot had went wild yet his second had hit one of the asshole's tools, most likely one of his smoke grenades. As he observed Jackal's furious rage, something had been thrown at him, it was about the size of a gumball trailing with smoke. Failing to realize what it was George let it land through the window onto the ground, when he saw that it was an explosive, George couldn't go out through the door so he grabbed his things and bailed through the window. As he was half way out, the small thing exploded in the room deafening George as he fell on the hard ground. He got up to hear another loud explosion coming from the tall tower. The asshole at the top was nowhere to be seen so he figured that he might as well check out who died from the loud bang.

He slowly moved out of the empty street to the door of the building and moved slowly up the stairs, there was movement up one level, Jackal must have survived. As he rounded the steps, there was a second bang, this one much louder and more powerful than the previous. The shudder and shock knocked George down and sent a hell storm of splinters and pieces of wood at him. It knocked him down.

"Oh fuck me!" He yelled when he realized he had a 5 inch piece of wood jutting from his calf.
[align=center]Joe Pera
7,9,7,4,5,5,3
Level: 1

[/align]
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Zilabus
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Er'ry day I'm overseein'
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Eli heard the satisfying click-clank of a mechanical lever. There was a long delay, and the ash of Eli's cigarette fell down into his lap. It suprised him, now that he had a reminder of how long he'd been hanging out on the roof. It felt like much longer then it'd actually been, and that realization relaxed him for some reason. Finally, the click-clank was followed by it's constant partner, a rather odd blast noise. "Looks like that's the end of Jackal-" Eli was cut off by another sudden blast noise.

His vision changed from it's focus down the barrel to a more general view of the door. He'd heard the cry of a familiar raspy ghoul, but that of a lightly accented human, as well. Apparently it wasn't just him and Jackal in the building, and he was going to stay right there until he was damn sure it was deserted below him. He heard a very gradual dragging, and it grew louder and louder.
Something was coming up.

The door at the bottom of the stairwell slowly creaked open, and Eli reached over to a cluster of cherrybombs as quickly as he could, lighting them. The end of a rifle poked through and Eli lobbed his light explosive directly through the opening and followed it with a molitove. He flung the molitove poorly, and rather then hitting it's designated target, it shattered on the edge of a stair, creating a spread out blaze all down the stairwell.

He rolled over out of the direct line from the stairwell, lying prone just off of it. His finger hovered over the trigger of the shotgun. He focused the end of the barrel at the door, again, checking his laser pistol with an off hand befor putting it back in place as a support under the shotgun. He wasn't planning on wasting a shell when he wasn't absolutely sure what he was hitting. He kept silent.
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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