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| The Red Hero; Solo Intro Flashback type thing | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 30 2010, 07:12 PM (171 Views) | |
| NobodyPro | Sep 30 2010, 07:12 PM Post #1 |
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Octo-thing
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I rubbed my knuckles, still sore from punching that walking bit of meat in the face, and then lightly touched the side of my head, also sore from where the meat had punched him in the side of the head. That was the third person that I've had to convince that I'm not a "Dirty Commie Spah!" and the second that hadn't bothered to ask first. This whole arrival in 'Buckettown' had definitely not gone to plan. He sat down and bagan to recall what had led him here since he arrived in what was left of the 'Great United States'... ----- The waves were bobbing the raft up and down, the motion had become incredibly familiar during this seemingly endless trip. Bogdan pulled on the fishing line slightly in the hope that he'd caught a fish and hadn't noticed. Nothing. He tied his end of the line to the mast, there were ten hooks made of his empty cans now and he always kept some pieces of fish so that he would have bait. It was midday so there was no excuse to clean the filter so he lay down under the sheltered half of the raft and thought. They had always said that the knowledge they were passing on to him was such a great gift and how it would help us. Apart from the filter his 'great knowledge' hadn't helped him at all and the filter could have been built by someone else. It's so simple. He tilted his head to check the line and spotted something on the horizon. He pulled his binoculars out of his storage box and took another look. It's land! Eto chertovski zemli! He set the binoculars down and started to move the sail, there wasn't much wind but he would get there sooner or later if he was going in the right direction. As he moved it he accidentally kicked the binoculars sending them to the edge of the raft. He couldn't let go of it yet so he tried to use his foot. Holding the sail in place with his hands and attempting to move the binoculars closer to him with his foot. A wayward movement sent the binoculars to the depths. Govno! ... It was good to see dry land again but strange to walk on it after never having to take more than four steps for this long. He tied the raft to what was left of a pier before turning, tripping and falling on his face. He picked himself up quickly. Nobody around? Nobody saw that? Good. Now, where are the people? I need people to save to become a hero. When I found them I think I will... what could I do to become a hero quickly? Well, what normally happened in the comics is that he arrives and is welcomed by the people and tasked to overthrow an evil warlord and rescue a damsel an then afterward he falls in love with the damsel, settles down and then someone burns down the village and he has to vow revenge. That's not an option though. That just puts me right back where I started. I'm going to need a new name, something American, Mark sounds good. ... Walking through these streets and you know who I ran into? Nikto and his good friend Yebatʹ Vseh, just a lot of dirt and nothing. It was hard to see anything in the dark anyway. You'd think that with all my engineering skills I'd be able to make a fission powered torch out of an old can and a car wreck but the best I could come up with is a flaming stick. Absolyutnyĭ geniĭ yeblya. As he turned a corner he spotted a faint light in a doorway a short way up the street. He walked towards it hoping for some kind of food and directions to the nearest town. The building looked like it had once sold clothing and inside was a... man. It looked like a man after he'd been left in the sun for years and then put on a suit and sounded like it too. He was sitting behind the counter on a stool, eating. To the right was a chair laying on it's side and to the left was a series of empty shelves. As soon as I walked in he said "Ah, a visitor. I don't get much people round here." He seemed human enough, I replied "Hello." The dried man's eyes widened in surprise "I've never had a visitor like you, not in all the years since the bombs fell." Bliad! My accent! "Well I've never seen a, uh, man like you before either." He stood up, "Is this some kind of smoothskin joke or are you being serious?" "Of course I am being serious. Why would I be making a joke? Now, do you like magic?" "Now I know your joking." "No, seriously." I pulled his recorder out of his pack and put it on the counter, "Watch that and I will make it disappear." The dried man looked at me with an impatient look before he leaned over it, "This better be good." I grabbed the chair and swung it around to hit the dried man in the side of the head. His head hit the counter as he fell and he just lay there, unmoving. I'm very hungry and that's a really nice suit. In the back room there looked like there was enough food for any trip I planned on making and there was also a large map of North America across the wall. To the north was an area marked with some kind of symbol, it looked military and that meant that that was out of the question. If they heard my accent I would be locked up before I can say "Howdy." Below that area was another vaguely military symbol but to the east it was marked with a question mark. That sounded like the best option. ... So... hungry... stupid dog... ate everything... ran off... Sooka!.. So... hot... Veblya pustyne!.. Everything was... good until... I... found that dog... Ya sobirayusʹ kil,... chto chertovski... sobaku,... yesli ya... kogda-libo uvidetʹ... yego snova!.. I think... I can see... a house... and people... horoshyee... Bogdan collapses in all his thirsty, sun burnt glory as a small group rushes towards him half expecting a feral ghoul. ... I woke on a bed, staring up at a flag. Not just any flag, it was red with a blue 'X' and thirteen stars. I know what that means, it means that silence is the only option. I felt for my holsters, nothing, not even the holsters. Yob! The rest of my possessions are piled next to the bed along with- Water! I stared to pour myself a glass and then brought the jug up to my lips and drank deeply. The door opened and I quickly put the jug down as a large balding man walked in. "Good, your up. Will was afraid that we were going to lose you. When you've cleaned yourself up why don't you come down and have a meal with the family." In the bathroom was a magazine, I flipped to the first picture of a man and attempted to copy his facial hair. I walked out into the kitchen and saw a rather plain woman in a yellow dress and an apron as well as six children sitting around a table. Four boys and two girls. "This," the big man said with a grand sweeping motion "is the family. Sit down and we'll get you something to eat. On my way to the only empty chair I spotted my holsters hanging next to the front door next to two other holsters, one holding a sawn-off shotgun, the other holding a magnum with a scope attached to it. When he sat the woman, the man's wife, set meat of some kind down in front of me and said "Why don't you tell us a little about yourself?" I panicked, to speak a word to these people could mean death. I motioned to my throat and pretended to mouth words. The wife gave him a sympathetic look, "Look dear, he's a mute. Tell me how that happened. No, don't answer that." I had to get out, I could see a US army poster in the pantry and the food tasted like feet. Almost suspiciously like feet now that I think of it. I got up and motioned to the door and then to my wrist. "Okay," said the balding man "if you're in a rush." I collected my belongings from the bedroom and walked towards the door. Unexpectedly the youngest son came up to me and held out his hand. "You dwopped dis." It was my screwdriver, I'd forgotten I had that in my pocket. "Thank you." I said and then quickly looked up, the look of shock on the balding man's face neatly mirroring my own as he reached for a gun that wasn't there. I ran to the door, snatching my guns from the hook on the way past. ... There it was in the distance, Buckettown. It was good that the the trader had sent me in the right direction. Now it's just a matter of walking in and becoming a hero. |
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Chris Chapman, Level: 2 S:5 P:10 E:3 C:4 I:7 A:5 L:6 Tall 34yo man, slight limp, dark bruises around eyes, wears a leather jacket, hallucinates. Bogdan "Mark" Kozlov, Level: 1 S:7 P:3 E:7 C:6 I:8 A:8 L:1 21yo Russian man, handlebar mustache, wears a suit, always tries to be the hero. I don't mind a little puppeteering of my characters | |
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| NobodyPro | Oct 1 2010, 02:32 AM Post #2 |
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Octo-thing
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Ready to be judged |
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Chris Chapman, Level: 2 S:5 P:10 E:3 C:4 I:7 A:5 L:6 Tall 34yo man, slight limp, dark bruises around eyes, wears a leather jacket, hallucinates. Bogdan "Mark" Kozlov, Level: 1 S:7 P:3 E:7 C:6 I:8 A:8 L:1 21yo Russian man, handlebar mustache, wears a suit, always tries to be the hero. I don't mind a little puppeteering of my characters | |
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| Zilabus | Oct 3 2010, 03:55 PM Post #3 |
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Er'ry day I'm overseein'
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So, it was pretty good, and it was good to see a new style, but it felt a bit clunky and chopy, and that was definately the weakest point. Other then that, I liked it.
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Eli "Slim" Ambrose SPECIAL: 3, 9, 2, 7, 9, 3, 7 Level: 5 Bucket town reputation: -175 Equipment Weaponry: Molotov, Cherry bombs, Combat Knife, Laser pistol, Tack Mines, Smoke grenades, Syringes. Armor:Post-war suit Tattered leather jacket Inventory Homemade shotgun, Gumballs, Bedspread Mentats x3, Psycho x2, Jet x1, Wiskey x2, vodka 4 1/2 x Hides, 15 LSB dollars Appearance Caucasian Very tall, lanky, and slim, jet black hair in a greased into a subdued pompadore style. Dark eyes and a cleanshaven face. Brown Windowpane suit. Kelly "Featherweight" Capozzi | |
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