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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 3 2010, 06:43 AM (227 Views) | |
| HenchmenF | Oct 3 2010, 06:43 AM Post #1 |
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Wasteland leader
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The camp-fire snapped, making small popping sounds as squirrel blood fell into the flame. Sitting around it was three archers, all of them waiting for the squirrel they killed earlier to finally finish cooking. All of them were propped up on something. A large rock for one, a rusted-out car the other two. The archers said nothing for a while, simply staring into the fire. For the past four years they had known each other. All three of them were the only contingent of Archers on the southern outpost of Duke Richard’s forces, halfway to the Mexican border. Albeit, despite there relative promoixity to the Swamps, it was a rather easy and dull assignment. Then word started come in from the west. Count Fantsam declared war on Duke Richard. There were a few minor skirmishes between the two, mostly bordering the eastern edges of Duke Richard’s kingdom. Then, Count Fantsam defeated Duke Richard’s forces at the Factory. So, the Duke took off the troops guarding the outposts and put them into his “field army”. And so Leon and his two friends sat, waiting for the coming day. “It done yet?” Leon asked, trying to break the silence that held between the three friends. “Give it a bit longer.” Came the near whisper reply of Jackie, leaning up against the lone rock. Jackie came from somewhere just below the Mexican border, came up north about eight years ago. He had lost most of his accent, but, there was still traces of it here and there. He had signed on with Duke Richard back when he still held terrority near the Mexican border, right before he was forced out by Signbacks. “Yeah, we let it go any longer and it burns.” Replied Donut, leaning up against the rusted up car next to Leon. Donut was from Northern Texas, from where Duke Richard started out before he angered a larger Warlord and exiled to southern Texas. It was along that route that Leon was drafted from Bucket-town. Donut, as his named implied, was a chunky man to say the least. However, he’s also one of the better brawlers in the Bowmen fighting under King Richard, so people know better then to mess with him. Most of the time. “Hey, piss off. I know what I’m doing.” Jackie shot back playfully, sitting up to look at the cooking squirrel. “Right, right. Like back when Duke Richey still was down in Mexico, ‘eh? You burned a fucking Molerat man. A molerat! Who burns a molerat!” Donut said. “Apparently Jackie did. Besides man, that molerat had something wrong with him. I was on the toilet nearly twenty-four seven.” Leon replied. Duke Richard used to control an area near the border of Mexico, before he was driven back by some Signbacks. Slowly, Duke Richard just started moving back north towards Bucket-town. Leon personally had no problem with it, meaning that he’s closer to home. Pulling the squirrel of the spit it was on; he placed it on a metal tray and looked at it. Donut groaned for a moment, looking at the burned squirrel. Leon started laughing at it, until he was shut up by a punch in the arm by Donut. “Jackie, this is the last time you are cooking. You fucking burned our dinner! Again!” Donut said, whining about the burned squirrel as he poked it. “Dude, this is like…that one thing. Eye-ron-eh. You know, where it’s like ‘Oh this is gonna happen’ but it doesn’t.” Leon said, taking Jackie’s switchblade and cutting off a small slab of burned Squirrel meat. Smelling it, he shrugged and took a small bite of it. “Ahhh….ewgh…..oh, god. This shit is nasty.” Leon replied as he continued to chew the squirrel meat, making approiate ‘disgusted’ faces as he chewed on the squirrel meat. “Seriously man, it’s no wonder you fucking left Mexico. Is this how you cook down there or something?” “Alright, I get it. It’s a piece of sh-“ Jackie began, before Duke Richard’s booming voice echoed throught the equipment. “LIGHTS OUT. WE MARCH INTO BATTLE TOMORROW.” Duke Richard barked. Leon took this time to take a quick look around the camp. Various camp-fires were set up, with friends sitting at each one talking to each other. It was quite an impressive site for Neo-Feudalists. Fifty soldiers, all in the same place. And tomorrow, they were going to meet there counterpart in battle the next-day. Setting his potato sack backpack aside, Leon grabbed two handfuls of sand and placed it onto the fire; extinguishing it. Jackie was already half-asleep before this was done, and Donut was getting himself comfy leaning against the rusted out car. Leon himself draped the potato sack backpack across his chest and nestled his head in the sand and closed his eyes. Soon enough, sleep overtook him. |
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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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| HenchmenF | Oct 3 2010, 06:44 AM Post #2 |
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Wasteland leader
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The men had all awoken early the next morning, some out of habit and others; such as Leon, out of Jitteriness. For Leon and several other people in Duke Richard’s army, this would be there first real battle. Sure, Leon had seen some skirmishes when he was on outpost duty. But that was a few tribals hopped up on VooDoo or a few Signback scouting parties. Nothing like a battle of this size. Marching with the rest of the bowmen, Leon adjusted his potato-sack backpack. He had tied off the top, to keep thieving hands out of his stuff. Happened a few times already, stealing a small bag of salt he had. Looking around him, Leon took in the sight. In the front, Duke Richard and the foot-soldiers marched; armed with spears and shields. Behind them was the bow-men, bringing up a total of fifteen men. The rest of the army, thirty-five men, were normal infantry. “God, do I fucking hate marching.” One of the soldiers in front of Leon said. “Then why’ you join the army then. We march all the goddamn time.” Another man in front of Leon replied back. “Sign-up bonus.” The other man replied. “Oh, really? Signed up for two bottles of water and a pack of pre-war food. Yeah. Great trade off now that you realize it, right?” The second man said to the First man. “Yeah, well….yeah.” The first man said. “Mhm. Now, shut up and stop complaining. Were almost there.” The second man said. Leon himself began looking around. They were in a flat, wide-open field. Leon scratched his head in thought, wondering where exactly the bowmen were supposed to be. Considering that they didn’t really have any elevation to use to there advantage. “Line, halt!” Barked Duke Richard. Quickly enough, the entire column grinded to a halt. Leon looked around, wondering what was going on. Standing on his tippy-toes, he turned to Jackie beside him. “Why’d we stop?” Leon asked. “Where here.” Jackie replied back, speaking quietly. “SPEARMEN! FORM A LINE!” Duke Richard barked. Soon enough, his rabble of spear-men formed a crude line. With this movement, Leon managed to catch a small glimpse of why they did stop. In front of them, Count Fantsasm’s army sat waiting. They looked to be similarly armed, with the majotory of troops armed with spears. The bowmen themselves organized themselves into something of a skirmish line, cocking there arrows on there bow and waiting for the order to fire. Leon himself cocked an arrow, his heart racing. This was it. His first battle. Looking to his left and right, Donut and Jackie were looking grimly ahead at the approaching line of Count Fantasm’s spearmen towards Duke Richards own advancing spear-men, with Duke Richard himself marching with the, “Bowmen! Fire!” Came an order from down the line. Within seconds, Leon pulled back the draw-string of his bow, aimed high so the arrow would arc, and realsed the draw-string. Watching the arrow fly, Leon made note that the arrows fell behind Count Fansasm’s advancing forces. Soon enough, Leon heard some whistling through the air. Looking up, Leon noticed several arrows flying towards the air towards him. Falling back onto his rear, Leon brought his arms up in a vain attempt protect his face. (LUCK) Several seconds later, Leon slowly opened both his eyes and looked around him. No arrow had hit him. Instead, they all landed incredibly close to him. But, they didn’t hit them. Laughing in nervous anxiety, Leon slowly picked himself up and grabbed his bow. And Jackie was laying there, dead. An arrow lodged in the front of his neck, killing him near instantsly. For a moment, Leon just continued on. Cocking another arrow, pulling back the draw-string and firing. The volley from the enemy archers shook up the ten remaining bowmen, and now they were just firing on anywhere they saw an enemy. The groups of spearmen were now engaging themselves in the middle, attacking each other with spears. Aiming for the group of enemy archers, Leon fired again. Grabbing another arrow from his quiver, Leon cocked his arrow and drew back his draw-string, firing again. Peering over to the main battle, Leon began noticing something. Duke Richard’s forces seemed to be….backing up slowly. Cocking another arrow, Leon fired again and turned around to face Donut. However, Donut was busy with an arrow in his leg. “Hey, Donut. I….I…I think were losing.” Leon said, sounding panicky. Understandable, since arrows were flying all around him. “Oh, really? Aren’t you just such a genius on noticing that?!” Donut said, grunting in pain as he tried to pull the arrow out of his leg. Leon himself gulped, breathing heavily as he pulled back another arrow on his bow. He needed to get out of there, and fast. Releasing the draw-string, Leon took another look over to the main battle-line. They were still getting pushed back. They were almost to the Bowmen’s line. Looking behind him, Leon saw a flat, empty wasteland. All it would take for is a bi of running back. Besides, home was only a few days away. He could make it there, hide out. Re-start his life. Spend time with family that he never got too before. Or, he could stay here and die. Or, worse, be captured by Count Fantsam and be either drafted into his army or sold into slavery. The choice was clear. So, Leon turned around, faced in the rough direction of Bucket-town, and ran. He heard a few shouts from Donut to come back, but, Leon ignored it. Leon clutched his bow in his left hand, pushing his feet to go even faster as he tried to put as much distance between him and the battle. He was heading home. |
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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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| HenchmenF | Oct 3 2010, 07:28 AM Post #3 |
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Wasteland leader
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Clutching his ribs, Leon continued to run. “Shit, cramp. Cramp. Ah, shit. Cramping up.” Leon said, huffing and puffing as he continued to run across the wasteland. The battle was long since out of sight. Leon was still a long ways from home, but, he would make it there within the week. Slowing down to a walk, Leon put his hands on his knees and stopped to take a breath. Looking around in front of him, Leon sighed with relief as nothing was in front of him. Perhaps they were scared off by the battle behind him. That, or, they were hiding in wait for the exhausted deserter to make a mistake. Wiping the sweat off his brow, Leon continued to walk. He wanted to put as far distance between him and the battle. As he walked, Leon unslung his potato sack backpack and retrieved the baseball. Throwing it up into the air, Leon caught it with his other hand before repeating. The baseball itself was something of significance to Leon. Back in Bucket-town, him and his friends used to play baseball right outside of town. Leon, being terrible at any-other sports, basically resigned himself to playing outfield. The day right before he was drafted, Leon managed to catch a pop-fly and win the game for his own ‘team’. When he left, his friends and family signed the baseball. Since then, Leon’s kept it wherever he went. Both to serve as a reminder of his hometown and to serve as an object of entertainment when walking along the desert, such as right now. Throwing the ball back up into the air, Leon caught it in his hands again before repeating the process. Catching it again, Leon looked ahead of him. The vast desert was just that. Vast. Empty, foreboding. Unforgiving. But, it was Leon’s ticket back home. And, for Leon, he just had to go off and do it. Reaching into his potato sack backpack again, Leon took out his bottle of water and took two sips of the warm liquid before placing the cap back onto it and setting it back down into the bag. Rubbing his arm, Leon continued the walk. When Darkness fell, he would rest. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Leon looked around him. It was getting dark soon and he needed a place to sleep. Rubbing the back of his neck, Leon scanned around him. Nothing. Squinting a little harder, he tried to make out a place that would be safe enough for him to sleep at tonight. Still, nothing. So, Leon simply just found a clear spot of sand, laid his potato sack on the ground to use as a pillow, curled into a ball and fell asleep. |
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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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| HenchmenF | Oct 3 2010, 09:26 AM Post #4 |
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Wasteland leader
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“Mmmmhmm.” Leon groaned as he stretched himself out on the desert floor as he slowly woke up. Rubbing his face off of sand, Leon slowly picked himself up and retrieved his potato-sack bag. Ruffling through it to check if nothing was stolen, Leon took out a piece of cooked squirrel meat and placed it in his mouth. Idly chewing it as he continued to walk along towards Bucket-town, Leon thought about what he was going to do. Things had to have changed by then. He had heard word of the election of a priest, but, that’s it. There was also a report of a gun-fight in the town, but, from what Leon heard it was small scale. Spitting out a piece of hair of the squirrel, Leon continued to walk. Rubbing his head, Leon took several deep breaths as he spit out a bone of the squirrel. Walking over a dune hill, Leon stopped and took a look around him. Bucket-town was still four days away. Spitting out another bone, Leon shielded his eyes from the sun and looked around again for anything of interest. (PERCEPTION) Leon smiled at once, looking at his lucky day. Below him, a single Brahmin-pulled cart walked down below him; looking to be heading towards bucket-town. Grinning from ear to ear, Leon put his hands up and waved them around, trying to grab the Caravanneer’s attention. “HEY! HEY! HHHEEEYYY!!!” Leon shouted. A few moments later, the Caravaner looked up to see Leon faliing his arms about. With delight, Leon slid down the dune hill as the Caravanner, unbeknownst to Leon; kept his hand on his hunting rifle. Arriving down below, Leon took a deep breath to say something before he hear the ‘cock’ of a lever action rifle. The caravneer pointed it at Leon, motioning with the rifle for his hands to go up. Leon did as he was told. “What chu want?” The caravenner asked, revealing the face of an aged man. Maybe fifty years old, hair gone gray due to stress. “A….ride?” Leon said nervously, as he looked at the Lever-action rifle. This wasn’t going as well as Leon had hoped. “Right, right. And then what? Alert your friends that some old caraveneer is traveling down the road so they can pick me clean? No no no.” The caravenner said, his finger moving closer to the trigger of the rifle. “Wait wait wait!” Leon said, putting his hands in front of him in a futile attempt to deflect the bullet in case the caravanner decided to open fire. “I’m not a raider! Listen, all I need is a ride to Buckettown. I swear. Listen, I ain’t got much on me but I’ll make it worth your while.” Leon said, pleading with the caravanner. “Whats from stopping me from killing you now and just taking what you own?” The caravanner replied. “….Nothing?” Leon said. He then mentally facepalmed himself for answering that question. “All I need is a ride back home. I’ll guard the caravan for you, I’ll pay you what I got when I get there.” Leon said. “And how does I know you ain’t gonna steal nothing from me?” The caravneer said, lowering his rifle. “’Cause I’m pretty sure that if you do think I’m stealing something from you, your gonna kill me.” Leon said. There was a pause as the two men looked at each other. Leon was panting slowly, visibly nervous and one step from panicking and bolting out of there. The carvaneer was calm, steady and looking Leon over. “Alright. Yew can ride on the cart. But, I see one thang missing and THAWP. Your dead.” The carvaneer said, grabbing his Brahmin again and leading on the road. Sighing with relief, Leon hopped on the back of the cart and nestled himself up against a small stack of furs. Now, to wait until he could get home |
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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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| HenchmenF | Oct 3 2010, 10:21 AM Post #5 |
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Wasteland leader
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“Leon. Leon. LEON!” The caravaneer shouted at Leon while Leon slept in the back of the cart. Forcing his eyes open, Leon looked at the caravaneer before looking around. “What? What I’d miss?” Leon asked, looking around with his bleary eyes for any sign of trouble. “Yeah. Queen of France came through here. Was asking for you, but, you was asleep. Be rude to wake you when she was here.” The caravaneer said flatly. “….Really?” Leon asked, looking around the wastes and licking his chapped lips. “Where is France?” Leon said, stretching. “Somewhere up north, problay. I’ll send you a postcard sometime.” The caravaneer said, again flatly. Leon himself scratched his head. France seems an awfully far-away place for a queen to pass through the desert. Problay on a goodwill trip or something. Or just wants to show off her Frenchie-ness. Leon grabbed his potato-sack that he had been using for a blanket. Leon and the caravaneer had been traveling for at least three days. There relationship hadn’t really improved much, mainly since the caravaneer insisted on eating only Leon’s squirrel meat when the caravaneer himself had plenty of food. At least he didn’t hug the water jug, allowing Leon a few gulps during meal-time. Hopping off the caravan, Leon shielded his eyes from the sun and looked ahead. In front of him was a single archway over a mainroad. That much Leon remembered about Bucket-town. The rest, however, was new. Bullet holes filled various shacks, and there was a series of graves with crude markers on them right outside of town. The whole place went through what had seemed to be a battle. And a large one at that. Scratching his head in confusion, Leon attempted to ask the caravanner a question. But, each time he tried to speak, nothing came out. “What….what happened?” Leon managed to muster out. “You didn’t hear? Bucket-town had a revolution against Gerade.” The caravaneer asked. “It’s the big news ‘round here. Now bucket-town is back to it’s old self again. We got Neo-patriots guarding this place, raiders. All sorts of folk.” The caravaneer said, walking the Brahmin through the archway. “Personally, was bringin’ up some building supplies. Hamma’s, nails. That sorta stuff.” The caravaneer said, before turning and extending a hand to Leon. “You know, I do in fact gotta say this. I was for sure you was gonna steal my stuff. Checked it last night, not a thing missing.” The caravaneer said as Leon shook his hand slowly, wondering what brought this sudden change of attitude. “You’re a rare breed. An honest man.” The caravaneer said. “Erm. Thanks?” Leon replied, not really sure how else to reply. “Listen, since you staying in Bucket-town, you might as well take these.” The caravaneer said, handing Leon a hammer and a box of nails. “Get ya started on buildin’ a house.” The caravneer said, patting Leon on the back before leading his cart down the center road. Leon himself nodded slowly to himself as he slipped the hammer through his improvised rope-belt that kept his pants up. The nails he slipped into his potato-sack backpack. Rubbing his head, Leon walked around Bucket-town aimlessly for a moment. Four years away from home and this is what he’s returned too. A bombed out, shot-out wreck. Clenching and unclenching his fists slowly, Leon breathed in deeply to calm himself. He left Donut, a friend of four years, left out in the sun to die only to return home to a wreck. Sitting down and leaning up against a building, Leon cradled his head in his arms and cried. |
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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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| HenchmenF | Oct 3 2010, 11:11 AM Post #6 |
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Wasteland leader
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Wiping the last tear from his cheek, Leon sat where he was for a few moments later to stare out of a shot-out wall of a nearby shack. It was empty, it’s owner most likely dead or gone. Mustering up the strength, Leon stood up and wiped his face again. He was home. Home was different then what he remembered it to be, but, he was home. Leon started walking through Bucket-town again, this time with a clear goal in mind. His parents might still be alive through all this. It’s very well possible, considering that Leon’s father seemingly carried his double-barreled shotgun wherever he went. Walking faster, Leon began taking short, shallow breaths. He was about to be home after four years. No longer was he a Neo-Feudalist. No. He left that behind as soon as he ran from the battlefield. Instead, he was just Leon Rhodes. Not a nameless bowmen to some warlord. He was just back to being a normal person. Leon looked around, trying to find his old home. Some-might have called Leon’s family well-off by Bucket-town standards, owning there own shack where others lived in tents. Not like it was much bigger then a tent, considering that it was literally one room with two cots on opposite walls from each; one for Leon and the other for his parents. That, and it did have a pretty nifty window with a cloth to serve as it’s flap. So, basically you were either looking in or saw a gently blowing cloth. It was better then what some-people had, for sure. Plus, there was a small area in the corner where you could build a fire to cook the meat you hunted. Finally, Leon stopped in front of one shack. It looked reasonably un-scratched, considering he walked by a section of town that was burned to ashes. Taking a deep breath, Leon slowly exhaled as butterflies filled his stomach. This was it. Walking slowly up to the door, Leon hesitated for a second before knocking. What if they didn’t recognize him? What if they thought he was lying to them? What if there dead and somebody else was living there. Knocking on the crude wooden door, Leon waited for an answer. A second later, the door was opened. There was Leon’s mother, Sarah. Or, better known by Leon as “mom”. Behind her sat Leon’s father, Bobby. Or, better known by Leon as “dad.” For a moment, Leon and his mother stared at each other for a moment. “Can I help you?” Leon’s Mom asked him. “Mom?” Leon asked quietly. For a moment, nothing happened between the two. Then, they both walked into each others arms, hugged each other quietly as Leon’s mother burst into tears of happiness, while Leon tried to suppress his own. “Sarah? Who is this man?” Leon’s Dad asked Leon’s mom. “Bobby, it’s Leon. Our boy is finally home.” Sarah said, pulling away from Leon. Leon stood there, taking in the look of his father. In one word, he looked like shit. His left leg was gone from below the knee, and he was using a crutch. “Pop, what happened?” Leon asked, looking at missing leg. “We’ll talk about this later. For now,” Leon’s dad said, putting a hand on Leon’s shoulder. “Your home.” ZE END |
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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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| Zilabus | Oct 3 2010, 03:23 PM Post #7 |
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Er'ry day I'm overseein'
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A decent intro. I think I would've liked it if finding how various things had changed would've been extended into other missions, and over a longer span of time, but still good.
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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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