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The Penultimate Soccer Rivalry; Everton v Port Vale it is decided
Topic Started: Dec 6 2013, 08:05 PM (1,069 Views)
lonesomedrifter
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Sexual Magneto
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
A sea of sinister silence flooded the desert air. Sweat gathered on Jonathan’s palms. Manly sweat of course, that smelt of wood and manual labour, not like that flowery stuff that comes out of Port Vale armpits. Roy towered over his fellow guards; his arms were like those of a super-mutant, thick and muscular. Both teams of supporters, even the faggy pushballers had went silent at this unexpected complication. Goddamn guards always had to ruin a good riot.

Jonathan scanned the area, hoping to find a better position during the silence. He found his way to the centre of the Everton group. Some Everton fans had broken out of their silence to listen to Jonathan’s words of wisdom. He knew that Roy wasn't just going to stand at the end of the street like a retarded Brahmin. This fight was going to get bigger before it ended. Jonathan ordered some of the Everton fans to duck down the alleys at either side of them and flank the dumb Port Vale pricks.

They left a few at a time so as not to seem suspicious; Jonathan looked towards Roy, who had seemed to have wet himself in terror at the thought of fighting the brave Everton fans. Jonathan yanked up his hood and scarf to ensure anonymity for his next act. He grabbed a makeshift molotov of a nearby Everton fan, and lit it. With one smooth movement, the flaming bottle flew into the air like an eagle, before arcing downwards and smashing through the window of a building down the road. As the flames spread through the building, Jonathan ducked down the alley and joined the ambushers. They stood in the darkness between the buildings, waiting to pounce on Port Vale as soon as the guards did. Hopefully, the fire would distract some of their force.
Edward Fairfax The III
Level: 2
SPECIAL: 3.7.3.9.7.8.3.
Armour:Crude Post-War formal outfit, Breaking Bad Chem Suit
Weapons: The Phazer, Lead Pipe, Golden Glory (Tier 1 GC Revolver)
Inventory: Courtroom Lunch, Afterburner Gum, Bricklayer's Fan Package

Rebecca Delacroix
Level: 2
SPECIAL: 7.8.4.8.4.4.5
Armour: Duster Coat
Weapons: Homemade Shotgun, Hatchet
Perks: Guardian Angel
Misc: Medicine Bottle (Mixed), Blonde Wig
+15 BT Reputation
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HenchmenF
Wasteland leader
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
The pushballers, meanwhile, were to busy engorging themselves on the Pabst Blue Ribbon and whatever other alcohol they could find inside of the bar. They had worked themselves into a frenzy over this suddenly free booze. The pushballers disgusting drinking habits were in full effect as men double fisted beers, guzzled down cheap alcohol, all while yelling and screaming and singing rude bawdy songs about sexual exploits that never happened and fights that did.

Jimmy sat above it all, quite literally. Sitting on top of the bar counter, nursing a handle of unmarked dark brown liquor as he watched his fellow pushballers trash BoBos; he took a brief moment to roll up a small joint of Torch. Lighting with a conveniently placed lighter, he took a mild drag. Suddenly the full effects of the alcohol intoxication mixed with the mellowness of Torch. In most hard-partying circles such as the pushballers, this condition was known as being "twisted" or "faded". Jimmy passed the jay of Torch around the room, allowing his Pushballer brothers to indulge in the full effects of being twisted.

Within moments, the partying within BoBos quickly ratcheted up another level. No longer content with just singing and drinking, the now twisted Pushballers took on a different level of hooliganism. They were looking for something, anything to happen just for an excuse to "wild the fuck out" as one of the more agitated Pushballers put it. Jimmy, on the other hand, merely continued sitting on the bartop sipping on his handle of alcohol.

"Jimmy!" One of the pushballers called, passing back the barely-there jay of Torch. Taking a few more drags of it, Jimmy ashed it on the new stopsign that now protected his chest, thanks to Madame Rose and her sewing work. Looking outside, he saw that a fire had begun in several of the nearby building across the way. Shrugging, Jimmy took another swig of the handle of liquor he was holding.

Thats when the strange shit started happening.

"Y'all hear that?" One of the pushballers asked. The entirety of BoBo's went silent for a moment, attempting to hear what this single pushballer heard. "I think someone called us a bunch of fags."

"Oh fuck no!" Jimmy declared, hoping off the top of the bar counter. "Lets go kick his ass!" Jimmy yelled, which was followed by cheers from all of the pushballers as they stumbled out the front door of BoBos to the porch that they originally began their night at.

"Hey!" Jimmy yelled out across the way to where a group of soccer fans were gathered outside, with Roy and his guards coming down the way (for what reason, Jimmy had no clue. Technically none of them and the pushballers had broken any laws yet) "Who the fuck called us a bunch of fags?!"
Jimmy Ronan
Karmichael Sandoval - HC -
Karmichael's current inventory

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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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TheTyrantOfTyrus
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What is YOUR meat agenda?
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
"Listen, sir, Sheriff Roy has this handled." The clerk responded firmly and proudly, "You should stay here, you're not like to help much. More like you'd get in the way. Take a seat." He gestured to a small stool, stained with the dried remains of mustard stains and brown blood. Reluctantly, Marshel took his offer and relaxed unto the chair.

The Pastor keep his eyes on the view of the town from the lobby. Grandiose, desert heat distorted the world, with the awful stench. The riot's ruckus reverberated still, throughout Marshel's mind and reasoning as he tried to keep the idea of it out. He was becoming paranoid and neurotic, lately. He couldn't remember when he had came to Bucket Town anymore. Bucket Town. Bucket Town. Bucket Town.

His nervous demeanor caught the eye of the injured Towny. "What's it like out there?"

"Stupid and chaotic. So what exactly happened to you?" The Towny was an average-faced man wearing a dirty plaid shirt with one sleeved rolled up, as his arm was in a tourniquet. A foul smell caught Marshel off guard, he choked back a cough.

"I don't know. All I remember that this stupid shit happened in Bobo's. Something about some Pre-War shit, next thing you know I'm getting stabbed in the arm by some fuck screaming 'EVERTON'."

"Everton? I wonder wha-" The smell came back and this time, he understood.

"Holy shit, is that a fire?" The Clerk noticed it first, however. Both he and Marshel immediately stood, they looked at each other. "You stay here, I'll go get some boys to take out the fire." The Clerk dashed out the door, but the Pastor didn't take hid heed and trailed the Clerk as well.

"FIRE! FIRE! GET SOME BUCKETS, WE NEED TO PUT OUT THE FIRE." The bright crimson flames swirled against two buildings now, consuming the metal and wood of them. If they couldn't get it in handle, than the possibility of the tent city igniting and the church as well didn't stomach well with the Pastor. He headed for the well, along with several other good samaritans.
Marshel Vic HC
7 4 8 6 6 4 5

Aryanna Leatherback
9 2 7 2 4 8 5

Charlie Klams
5 4 5 6 8 8 3
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Zilabus
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Er'ry day I'm overseein'
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Marshel + the Clerk + other good Samaritan locals:

Although seemingly out of control, a large group of non-rioters seemed to have had enough as soon as the fire broke out, prompting a big group of assorted locals to help slow down the fire with dirt and other debris while Marshel, the Clerk, and a few others made a water chain from the well to the fire. It was contained relatively quickly and is all but completely out now. Damage is noticeable but fairly minimal.

Marshel BT rep +25

The Everton crew + John

Your efforts to slip in between the various cracks and alleys around Bobo's bar where semi-successful. Although a handful of Everton's crew got nabbed before they made it out of the main heat area, your ambush attack has some hope of working if you collapse in on the bar as Roy's crew does, although that may be a little ill advised.

Because a handful of old pit fighters that make the tougher brawlers of the security force are collapsing in on you towards the bar from behind! It is chaos as the majority of the hidden Everton men are funneled back towards the bar. Those who don't get moving are getting beat down.

Johnathon from within one of the alley's has taken a large rock to the back of the dome. He is currently on the ground - having fallen like a girlish waif.

Port Vale and Amos
The main contingent of security forces are heading right for the majority of Port Vale supporters and they are doing so quickly. To add to this problem, Everton and more guards behind them are being funneled back towards you in a chaos. Roy and the Everton boys landfall happens to be 'N - SYNC' if you will.

Those wonderful tall gentlemen in front of you, by the way, both collapsed like a stack of daisies after having been sprayed by perfume. Roy threw an unconscious man over the chaos and into them, as sort of a retaliation for his soiled pants. Needless to say it was pretty fucking nutty.

Pushballers within the bar
The delicious supply of Pabst ribbon has suddenly gone dry. Although refreshing and quenching, it is sadly not infinite, and the bar has stopped serving to what is obviously a drunken and destructive mob.

Bobo has reemerged from the back room, shotgun drawn. You'd better disperse if you know what's good for you.

Furthermore, a young punk looking kid from the Port Vale side let out a yell of "Push ball is for girly men and sissies scram you guys."

A random Everton supporter and scraggler as he was getting beaten by a guard also let out a yell of "Pushball!?" Even the guard stopped beating him to laugh at what is clearly conceived as a sport for children whom are too frail for the world of adults.
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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Midnight Rider
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The Super Cereal
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Pull back and retreat north, that was the smart thing to do. The situation was dire for all sides right now and it was starting to look there would be no winner. If Port Vale moved behind the bar and regrouped in the boneyard they'd be safe. There they could regroup while the guards went through the Everton side and the Pushballers. They'd be wore out by the time they got to Port Vale and the people's champion could counter attack. That was the smart thing to do, but it didn't seem very Port Vale like to pull that maneuver. People don't sing songs about the army that retreated and waited until the enemy wore itself out. There wasn't glory in that, it wouldn't help the Port Vale cause.

Time was of the essence as the Everton side began to collapse as predicted. Amos had no seen them leave the area but he certainly could wee where they were retreating from. The clever little shits thought they could outsmart the Port Vale side by sneaking into the alleys. It was an interesting move but it gave Amos an opportunity to strike. With both the police and Everton group split into two Port Vale would be able to move. They'd charge the alley, knock down whoever got in the way and hole up in the church. It was the closest building not on fire to the group. The charge might just catch the enemy off guard but even if it didn't they'd have a slight numerical advantage. Ideally Amos would have preferred to stay at Bobo's but Bobo was pissed and the pushballers were more pissed. The cops were coming down on them fast and they'd certainly have their hands full with Jimmy.

It was time to attack but rousing drunks is bit different than moving troops, it requires a different approach. Amos was offkey as hell, but he took a deep breath and let out in a lovely tenor, "Vale till I die, I'm Vale till I die, I know I am, I'm sure I am, I'm Vale till I die...!"

The men looked at him like he crazy at first but then the spirit grabbed them and soon they were all singing with tremendous volume, "Vale till I die, I'm Vale till I die, I know I am, I'm sure I am, I'm Vale till I die...!" After the crowd repeated the chant the song simplified to just, "Vale! Vale! Vale! Vale!"

With the crowd pumped Amos led the charge right into the south eastern alleys. The Everton supporters were all around them, as were the police, but the Everton side was retreating as much as they were fighting. Amos knew the fighting in the alleys would be viscous and close so he took point with two other men. The fighting wasn't fancy or elegant, it was sucker punches and nut kicks. The attacks were aimed at dropping foes quickly because speed was key. Port Vale was a freight train of pain and nothing was stopping it, nothing. Amos just kept running and punching, they only had to go a block or so given the towns small size.

A policeman finally emerged standing in between Amos and the church. Behind him and the Port Vale team was a trail of tears from some very angry Everton fans. This sombitch was mean looking as hell and he already had a healthy coat of Everton blood flecked on his uniform. Amos could have paused to consider his options but he couldn't, nothing could stop this train. If they stopped before the station they'd die.

"VALE!!!" Amos yelled as he charged full bore at the man, leading his men once again.

Even with Amos's speed and endurance this was difficult but Amos hit the man like the freight train that is Port Vale. He was small but he was fast and he never gave up. The two of them went tumbling through one of the stain glass windows of the church. Broken glass shards rained down on the duo as they laid on the church floor. Both men were out of it but Amos had backup. Kicks rained down on the cop as Amos pulled back and recovered. Shaking the glass out of his hair Amos bounced back up and jumped on top of the pig. He punched the man's face in a hurricane of tiny fists. When Amos was done the steam was all out of the law man, he looked done.

Amos stood up and looked at his team. They had risked much in following him here and their rest would only be momentary. There was a reason though that Amos had taken them here, it was very important. Quickly Amos walked over to a cabinet along the wall and opened it up. Inside the drawers was the preacher's private stock of alcohol. Amos popped the cork on the communion wine and started passing it around. Then he got out another bottle just for him. This party wasn't over yet, they still had to find out who won the match and he wasn't about to watch it sober.
Posted Image
Gordon "Stone" Hennigan, SPECIAL: 5.6.9.3.5.10.3. Level: 6 HC
Peter McCullough SPECIAL: 4, 4, 4, 10, 10, 4 , 4, Level 3 HC

THE CURSE OF THE MUMMY

The spirits have taken an interest in you for all the wrong reasons! Unexpected challenges will come to you during your RPs but the rewards doled out will be much juicier. It is possible to live with such a curse, but if you would rather live curse free, you could simply sell the corpse and wash your hands of the whole situation.

Lmgthev: MBP is handsome
LonesomeDrifter23: Sometimes I think MBP is a being made entirely of satire.
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lonesomedrifter
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Sexual Magneto
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
The Everton side had been cruelly cut down but their force was still large and hidden in the dark alleys of Bucket Town ready to strike. There was one small error in their otherwise magnificent plan, in their drunken stupor they had not been as stealthy as they would have liked and were been attacked from behind by the guards. Jonathan turned towards the attackers and let out a blood-curdling war scream that would make William Wallace wet himself. A rock that could have taken out a mythical giant smashed against the side of his head and he fell to the floor, but no rock or skull fracture could keep the great Everton down.

Jonathan turned towards the Port Vale pansies and was shocked for a moment. They had powered through the other alley like a retarded bull, making their way towards the town centre.

“FOR EVERTON!” He rallied his men together and then set off after the cowardly Port Valers on his magnificent Segway of the gods.

The Segway whizzed through the alleys like a rocket, dodging the fallen bodies of guards and disgusting Port Vale supporters. Jonathan arrived just in time to see the last of the Port Vale fans enter the church. Jonathan looked across the warzone of the town square. The men grew weary with battle. They would need refreshment. Jonathan knew just the place. He called across the nearest Everton fighters and ordered them to loot the alcohol stores of Trappers. They saluted and charged towards the sheet metal doors weapons in hand.

They returned quickly crates of the luxurious liquor in hand. The men cheered and grabbed themselves another bottle and prepared for their next attack. The idiotic Port Vale men had forgotten to shut the basement clinic door. Jonathan Segway-ed across the square and into the basement. The superior Everton supporters followed. The clinic was abandoned due to the recent attempt on the Doctor’s life by some silly fool. Various medical texts were strewn across the floor in a mess. Everton stopped at the sound of celebrating. The Port Vale supporters were obviously idiots. Who celebrated when the battle wasn’t even over? In one mighty Segway charge Jonathan busted down the cellar down and into the church.
Edward Fairfax The III
Level: 2
SPECIAL: 3.7.3.9.7.8.3.
Armour:Crude Post-War formal outfit, Breaking Bad Chem Suit
Weapons: The Phazer, Lead Pipe, Golden Glory (Tier 1 GC Revolver)
Inventory: Courtroom Lunch, Afterburner Gum, Bricklayer's Fan Package

Rebecca Delacroix
Level: 2
SPECIAL: 7.8.4.8.4.4.5
Armour: Duster Coat
Weapons: Homemade Shotgun, Hatchet
Perks: Guardian Angel
Misc: Medicine Bottle (Mixed), Blonde Wig
+15 BT Reputation
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TheTyrantOfTyrus
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What is YOUR meat agenda?
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((oOC: Consider this, me dropping out of the Rivalry.))

The Pastor reconsidered on what to do now, however the Clerk came around. The Pastor didn't want to go with him, but he had no choice but to. He wasn't in his best shape, and the clerk undeniably had the backing of Roy. So he was brought back to the Sheriff's department.
Marshel Vic HC
7 4 8 6 6 4 5

Aryanna Leatherback
9 2 7 2 4 8 5

Charlie Klams
5 4 5 6 8 8 3
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HenchmenF
Wasteland leader
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
"BoBo! BoBo! Chillllll!" Jimmy pleaded with BoBo as he emerged from his backroom, shotgun drawn and ready to go. The shambling mob of Pushballers behind him, oblivious to the world expect for their immediate surroundings, slowly became aware of the fact that BoBo was standing there ready to blow all their brains out.

"Then get them out! Get them out of the bar! This bar is now closed." BoBo said with a frantic wave of his shotgun. Jimmy quickly got the message that BoBo may or may not have gone a little crazy with the riot going on outside and quickly ushered his drunken mob of pushballers out the door.

Standing on the porch, where all of the madness began, Jimmy rubbed his numb face with his hands. The torch was kicking in heavily by now and a big stupid grin adorned his face. Jimmy was tempted to just sit down in a chair and watch the riot unfold around him. The guards at this point were swarming in, clubbing at some of the soccer fans that were busy trying to tear each other apart. Some of them fought the guards, to various degrees of success. It was a crazy sight. Some people had peeled off towards Trappers Trek and returned with crates of alcohol, taking advantage of the chaos of the riot. But, just as soon as it began, it seemed to shift. Instead of being fought in the streets it suddenly went into the large church. Who would fight in a church? That's just low.

Just as Jimmy was about to shake his head and muse on the sudden loss of religion and morality in the wider wasteland, he heard two different pieces of conversation that perked his ears.

"Push ball is for girly men and sissies scram you guys."

"Pushball?!" It was only followed by unknown laughter.

Jimmy's face immediately went red with anger. Standing up, he stretched out his arms and rolled his neck. Goddamnit, Jimmy bled and sweated and cried for this damn sport. He wasn't about to let some damn non-contact pussies about to make fun of him for it. Rolling up his sleeves, he cupped his hands to his mouth and unleashed a bloodcurling warcry. The pushballers snapped out of their drunken stupor, if only for a brief moment, and looked to their leader Jimmy. In a wordless conversation everybody knew what was about to happen. Streaming from the porch, they walked over to the guards as they advanced towards the church.

"We got your back when you get in there." Jimmy said to Roy. Roy exchanged a single nod of understanding and motioned for Jimmy and his mob of pushballers to follow him. Just as Roy was about to put his shoulder to the church doors, Jimmy stuck a hand up.

"Wait, wait. We gotta do something first. Boys!" Jimmy called out. Gathering around Jimmy, the pushballers listened to his whispered instructions and nodded. The guards backed up as the Pushballers approached the door of the building. With a sharp rasp of his knuckles to grab everybody inside of the church attention, Jimmy lead the pushballers in an old tradition he had seen from some ghouls; the haka.

Once the haka had been completed, Jimmy nodded to Roy. Both the guards and the pushballers had been worked up now due to the haka. With a sudden push of the door, the combined force of pushballers and guards swarmed into the church to end the riot once and for all.
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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Cewebwalz
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Henshin a go-go baby
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Alright boys this has gone long enough, i'll settle this. This showdown ends in a Draw, which while super anticlimantic, gives you all rewards and backstory.

Jimmy and the pushballers are left with the only thing they ever wanted, recognition.

Team Everton's flagship son sadly passed away, and had a sad burial to go with their poor soccer performance.

Port Vale, along with Gordan, were sadly largely incarcinated. In a twist of cruel irony, the world may never know which team really was the better commy roundball player.

Marshal went somehwere who knows.


Quote:
 
+10 Bucketown Reputation The people of Bucketown are a weird, weird bunch. For some silly reason the only thing they walked away with was sheer respect for the games you put on display.

Soccery Jersey - This tier one clothing is reminescent of everything to ever happen ever, in that all you got was a lousy t-shirt.
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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