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Festival of lights; Dewali event
Topic Started: Dec 23 2010, 09:30 PM (168 Views)
Zilabus
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Er'ry day I'm overseein'
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The atmosphere around you is dead silent. Even the air seems to hang stiffly around you, hanging as if frozen in time. Something about the ruins you've managed to wander into, completely alone, feels suprisingly tranquil and relaxing. The night around you is chilly and dark, although the isolated area around you is neither of those things.

Hundreds of tiny clay lamps are scattered throughout what is left of ruined pillars. They share their light, a legion of small flames all flickering in unison in defiance of the harsh enviornment surrounding them.

It occurs to you, by primal instinct or cool calculation, that there is something special about this place. An ornate, highly decorated statue suddenly appears in your vision, and your surroundings suddenly seem to have more meaning.

It is rumored that the goddess the locals worship is one of strength and affluence. Should you ask for her to look over you or your interests? Yes, perhaps it would be wise to ask a wish of this goddess, offering or not. You never know if she may smile upon you.

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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Cewebwalz
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Henshin a go-go baby
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Sun wandered into the ruins, passing past the various clay lamps. He moved slowly, his eyes darting around the area, looking for some sign of who lit the lamps. He saw no one but himself, perhaps the local tribals that had set this up where off hunting? Or perhaps having dinner in their own village?

His eyes soon rested on the statue. He slowly lowered his body to the ground, leaning against a nearby wall. He suddenly became tired. It was late. He'd close his eyes for a second or two. Just a second or two. As he lied against the wall, thinking, his mind soon strangely switched to the topic of weaponry. His hand reached to his rock knuckles. He was beginning to think of switching them out, or grabbing an upgrade.

His mind slowly went blank, and Sun soon found himself half-awake, and half-asleep.
Jesse Winters - Penitentiary Pugilist
8(+2).5.7.5.5.8.4, Level: 4 -HC-

Grace Van Vliet - Indie Incinerator
5.7.7.5.5.4.7, Level: 3 -HC-
Quote:
 
Lmgthev:� Like tbh I agree CP is not the golden boy at all
Lmgthev:� You're like John Candy from Cool Runnings
Lmgthev:� Washed up has been who teaches the newcomers the trade� :D

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"What is Adderal, anyhow?" - Funky Fan
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Run4
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Iron Crow
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Jackal leered as he passed through the ruins, his eyes narrowing as they took in the candles flickering in the night. Fucking Tribals and their fucking shit. The air was still, silent, hanging heavy around him. The desert around here was never quiet. Something tickled at Jackal's senses - at his animal instincts and his cold, rational sensibilities. This place ... it bore some meaning. Some weight. Even his heavy boots made no sound as he shuffled into the overwhelming presence of a goddess. Jackal looked up into the statue's eyes, his own burning like hellfire. Something ... he couldn't place it ... something whispered to him.

"Goddess. I've got some favours to ask," Jackal rasped, opening his pack.

"Show me the face of my enemy," Jackal rasped, "The one who killed Ellis."

He tossed a hide on the ground before the statue.

"Tell me his name," Jackal added, drawing the Old Womens' Magazine from his bag and laying it on top of the hide.

"And grant me the strength to destroy him," Jackal growled, drawing Pig Man's cleaver and turning it over in his grip, "Grant me the strength to take everything he has. Everything he had. And everything he ever will have."

Jackal drove the cleaver through the magazine and the hide, dropping to his knees in front of the statue. He leaned forwards, lowering his hands to the ground first, then lowering his body. Finally, he lowered his head and kissed the ground before his offering and slid it to the statue's pedestal.

"At the least, grant me the means to thrive until I can find him myself," Jackal asked, kneeling back and holding his arms out to the sides, locking eyes with the statue again.
[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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Gimmy Doffa
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Wastland Guerilla
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Dre wandered into a cluster of tribal ruins, not knowing how he came to this point, or even why he had, he continued on. He was lost, yet he felt like he was looking for something, and that he knew where he was.

.....and suddenly everything was dark....

He found himself shrouded consumed in darkness, as if it had just appeared. He searched the area for something, anything to give him a clue of his whereabouts, or at least his purpose for being here. He looked high and low, in every ingle direction... still nothing came forth. Everything, even the air was still, free of any form of motion, or even sound as, silence shrouded the landscape. Then there appeared light, lamps, hundreds maybe thousands illuminating the entirety of the ruins. It had felt as if they just appeared, seemingly out of knowhere, but in actuality they'd been there all along.


As Dre look onward, a Mysterious figure appeared before him, surrounded by some form of eery green aura, that which would accompany a goddess.

"Who is this figure? Why is she here? What does it mean?"He thought to himself curious but confused.

The thoughts of something he heard from a group of tribals, then their way into his subconcious. They spoke of a group of weapon masters they had traded with, comprised of a collection of people with infallable knowledge of the art of combat, and the craft of weaponry.

Then, an image of the aformentioned group flash in front of his eyes, blinding him.

At this, he felt compelled to request something of the mystic being.

He hesitated, anxious but nervous.

"Im not sure who you are, but i don't suppose it matters.... i have a feeling you can help... I've heard of group of people that greatly interested me not too long ago, from a few tribals. They are weapon masters, people who can provide me with knowledge i've never known, but have always yearned for. I know not much of these people, but i wish to seek their village"

Dre then took a deep breath and reached in his napsack.

"I wish for you to guide me. In return i bring forth a small offering."

He then unvieled 3 stones he had recieved from the tribals.

"I recieved these from the tribals worth nothing to me, i sense that they are of some spiritual value. Please ... show me a way."

As Dre went to lay the stones on the ground, his legs gave way and he fell to his knees. He struggled for a moment but to no avail, he felt paralyzed. Instead of trying to recover, he merely extended his hands, and remained... waiting,
Deandre "Dre Guns" Scott - Level 2, American-African drifter

Seven aka "Diesel" - Level 1, Black, Man-child slave turned slaver/raider
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