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| Smart and charming; Thomas learns to read and tries to charm | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 22 2016, 02:37 PM (82 Views) | |
| Mixtli | Jul 22 2016, 02:37 PM Post #1 |
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Resident Canadian
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[OOC] As always I'm happy to get feedback. This is from a while ago but it was edited then so I don't want to change any of it :^P As a refresher Thomis is stuck in a cell talking about his past while the days count down for him to fight in a fighting ring against his will, because he was tricked into taking the place of another and he can't get out of it without going through with the combat. He's telling the owner of the venue, Caleb, about his past. The men in the caravan that he's talking about are the owner Marcus (Think the gun seller from Borderlands. Big, burly, and hairy), the other caravan guard Brian (Muscular, sunburnt, perpetually ornery, and bearded), and Doc (Old fella, more wrinkle than man at this point, patches them up and is full of wisdom). [/OOC] Intelligence Thomas sat in his cell, feeling more restless than usual today. He was tired of sitting around all day. I need to stretch my legs! Just as he thought that he wouldn’t be able to stand it any more, that he would go crazy from boredom, Caleb walked in. The man was twirling a number of keys on a large ring. “I get the impression that you might be hankering for a bit of a walk.” Thomas jumped to his feet. “Yeah I could go for a long hike.” Caleb put the keys down on the small table that sat next to his usual chair, and sat down heavily. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but you’re staying in there until you go in the pit.” Thomas sat down with a groan. “I’m doing you a favour. One of the benefits of keeping you in here until the fights is that people might think you’re in poor health. I made sure that everyone here has heard about the stab to the shoulder that you took. I want you to win these fights, because then I make money off of all of the people that bet against you.” Thomas looked at him sullenly. “I hope that you’ve been making good use out of all of this personal stuff I’m telling you.” Caleb shrugged. “Eh, I’ve been talking but there’s never a guarantee that people will pay attention.” Thomas looked perturbed at that. “You promised me only three fights Caleb. That’s why I’m cooperating so well with you. I’ve spent days in a cell with little complaint, so this better be done when you told me it would be done.” Caleb waved one hand, the fingers heavy with rings scrounged from parts unknown. “All right Thomas you’ve made your point. Just get on with the storytelling.” Thomas rubbed his chin, wondering when in his life he should talk about next. “Well, the next lesson I learned was how to use my head for more than wearing a hat.” Caleb laughed. “You’re telling me that your master taught you how to fight, and then he taught you how to think? What kind of an idiot was this guy?” Thomas shook his head. “I was a free man by the time I was taught how to read. I think you’ll get a kick out of knowing that my master was the one that taught me how to shoot though.” Thomas had to wait nearly a minute for Caleb to finish laughing. Caleb wiped the tears from his eyes. “Why in hell would a slave owner EVER think it was a good idea to teach a slave how to shoot?” Thomas smiled. “Well he was always paranoid of raiders and cheap as well. When he decided he could save money by training a trusted slave to be a bullet sponge instead of hiring more professional guards he decided to teach me to handle a gun.” Caleb chuckled at the foolishly thrifty decision. “Then how did you get free from the farm?” Thomas grinned. “When I was about 19 I finally had a reason to use my training. Some bandits tried to storm the property and take whatever valuables they could find. When I was finally given a gun I managed to take out two of them before I took a bullet to the leg. The next day a doctor from a passing caravan came in to take a look at my injury, and he told the Boss that I would never walk again. He made an offer to take me off of the farmer’s hands to save him the trouble of getting rid of me, and the farmer accepted. When the doctor carried me to the small wagon they had hitched up outside the farm gate, he told me that he had lied through his teeth. It was only a minor wound, but he hated slavery so much that he lied to get me away from the farm. Once my leg was healed and I proved that I had a good head on my shoulders, they decided that my shooting was good enough to hire me on as an extra guard.” |
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Thomas Grey, level 5, Ranger Rep +10, BT Rep +118, Brick Rep +15 SPECIAL: 6, 7, 7, 4, 7, 6, 3 Equipment Weaponry: Colt Army revolver, pocket revolver, 1x smoke/stun/baseball grenades. Armor: Pack rat clothing, leather greaves, reinforced chaps. Appearance: Caucasian. Tall, strong build, short thick curly brown hair. Dark eyes, a frown, and a cleanshaven face. Grey shirt with 3/4 sleeves and leather bracers. Jeans with reinforced leather chaps, and a tool belt. Companion: Elizabeth Sharpe - 4, 8, 4, 3, 5, 10, 6 - Small stature, but makes up for it with knives, a crossbow, and attitude. Level 5. +5 BT Rep. John Slater: SPECIAL 8(+1).4.10.5.5.4.5. One bad hombre | |
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| Mixtli | Jul 22 2016, 02:39 PM Post #2 |
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Resident Canadian
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OOC: Ripple transition to the past [Thomas is 19 years old. He’s almost fully-grown. He is experiencing freedom for the first time in his life.] Thomas looked around at all of the new sights the world had to offer. Much of what he could see was similar to what he could have seen from the confines of the farm, but the simple fact that it was different was enough to fill him with amazement. For the first time in his life he felt like a child from the constant wonder that he felt over every little thing that he saw. “Alright boy settle down. I still want to make sure that your leg is fully healed before you start running around on it.” Thomas fell back in line with the caravan. The man that had been telling him to slow down was the man that he owed his freedom to. He was the medical expert for the small caravan, and it was his job to patch up anyone that needed it. He’d been the doctor for one caravan or another for so long now that he didn’t even bother telling people his name anymore, they simply knew him as Doc. “Sorry sir.” Thomas came back to the slowly walking group and fell in next to Doc. “Don’t “sir” me young man; just listen to my damn advice!” Brian, the other guard for the caravan, was a strong man with thick limbs, a rough attitude, and close-cropped black hair. Wearing a worn pair of overalls with his gunbelts slung on his hips, he would watch the other side of the caravan as they traveled through the wastes. He laughed at the verbal dressing down that Thomas was getting. “Son, don’t get too comfortable with the free ride you’ve been getting off of us. As soon as we get to the next settlement you won’t be our problem any more.” Thomas’s face fell. Marcus, the heavyset merchant with a coarse beard that ran the caravan, patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t feel bad about it. You’ve had a rough life, and I’m sure you’ll do ok for yourself when you’re in a civilized part of the world.” He looked at a distant farm where slaves were working the earth and spat in the dust. “Slavers. The only reason I come around here is that I need to make money and these slaving bastards need supplies.” Thomas was frustrated from being treated like he was useless. “I can stay on with you as a guard though. You’ve seen me shoot!” Marcus nodded. Thomas had been fantastic with the broken revolver that he had been given to defend himself with. The gun was essentially worthless, because even though it fired reliably the cylinder had to be manually turned after each shot. Thomas had been able to shoot cans off of fences with ease, and apparently he had experience shooting bandits and that experience was valuable in caravan guards. Marcus shook his head. “I know you mean well, but there’s more to being a guard than knowing your way around a gun. You also have to be a quick thinker, and I just don’t know if you have what it takes.” The statement hurt Thomas. He knew that being a slave for most of his life meant that he had never received any sort of formal education, but he was sure that he was more than smart enough to be a guard. Marcus saw how frustrated Thomas was. He reached into a pouch on the Brahmin-pulled wagon and pulled out a small book. “Look, we have a few days before we arrive at the next settlement. This is a book that children use to learn how to read. If you can learn enough to read this to me by the time we get to town then I’ll know you’re bright enough to be a guard. You’ll have to keep improving yourself, but that would be a good start.” Thomas took the book. The words on the cover were clearly visibly, but Thomas couldn’t decipher any sort of meaning from them. |
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Thomas Grey, level 5, Ranger Rep +10, BT Rep +118, Brick Rep +15 SPECIAL: 6, 7, 7, 4, 7, 6, 3 Equipment Weaponry: Colt Army revolver, pocket revolver, 1x smoke/stun/baseball grenades. Armor: Pack rat clothing, leather greaves, reinforced chaps. Appearance: Caucasian. Tall, strong build, short thick curly brown hair. Dark eyes, a frown, and a cleanshaven face. Grey shirt with 3/4 sleeves and leather bracers. Jeans with reinforced leather chaps, and a tool belt. Companion: Elizabeth Sharpe - 4, 8, 4, 3, 5, 10, 6 - Small stature, but makes up for it with knives, a crossbow, and attitude. Level 5. +5 BT Rep. John Slater: SPECIAL 8(+1).4.10.5.5.4.5. One bad hombre | |
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| Mixtli | Jul 22 2016, 02:41 PM Post #3 |
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Resident Canadian
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They stopped to make camp before dark, and Doc sat with Thomas on a stone by the side of the road. Thomas was still staring at the book, but he couldn’t make heads or tails of the words. Doc took the book out of his hands. “You’ll never learn how to read without starting from the beginning.” From his pack he pulled out a pencil and clipboard that had some tattered papers pinned to the top. He scribbled on a clear piece of paper for a minute, and then passed the clipboard to Thomas. He pointed at the first shape on the page with his pencil. “That’s the first letter of the alphabet. It’s “A”, and it makes an “ah” or “ay” sound. There are 25 other letters in the alphabet, and they each make a different sound. When you put different letters together you make words.” He took the clipboard back and wrote something on the bottom of the page before passing it back. “That’s your name.” Thomas gripped the paper and looked at the letters with wide eyes. He’d never actually been shown what his written name looked like. They worked with more letters of the alphabet until they had to stop to eat, and Thomas spent the rest of the night looking at the alphabet and speaking under his breath before he had to surrender to sleep. The next day Thomas walked next to the wagon without taking his eyes off of the page with the alphabet on it. He fell over unnoticed bumps and stepped into unseen holes in the road, but he refused to take his eyes off of the page that he held almost against his nose. Brian snapped at him. “Look where you’re walking Thomas. If you spook the Brahmin I’ll take it out of your hide.” Thomas was so focused on the page that he hardly noticed the harsh words from the guard. He didn’t even eat lunch with the others, choosing instead to sit against the wagon and read the alphabet to himself. He lost count of the number of times that he had recited it to himself, his fingers tracing over the letters as he went through the alphabet. By the time he closed his eyes to sleep he could trace out his name in the dirt. Once he woke up he continued to work on the letters the same as the day before. At lunch he was too hungry to skip another meal. Doc handed him a bowl of boiled oats. “How’s the practice coming along son? I noticed that you’ve been reading that page nonstop for what looks like the second day in a row.” Thomas looked at the old man, and rubbed his sore eyes. “It’s so hard to remember what each letter sounds like. I feel like my eyes are going to fall out of my head.” Doc laughed. “Well I feel like that too when I have to do a bit of reading, so I think you’re coming along nicely.” The praise made Thomas beam, and after asking Doc for a pencil and another scrap of paper he went back to his practice. Marcus walked over to Thomas and put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll be arriving tomorrow before dark. Are you ready to show me that you’re smart enough to be a guard?” Thomas shook his head, not looking up from his paper. Marcus sighed. “Well there’s still time.” The group packed up and continued on down the road. Doc looked at Thomas, and felt a little anger at Marcus. Sure as hell there were many people that could read when they were Thomas’s age, but they all had the advantage of not being slaves for their entire fucking lives. Marcus was just trying to let the boy down easy, but Thomas would be crushed if he had to leave the people that had taken him away from his miserable life. That night Doc saw Thomas scribbling on a ragged piece of paper. “Thomas, are you practicing the letters?” Thomas realized that he was being watched and put the pencil and paper away. “Yeah, but I don’t know if it will help me at all.” Doc’s heart sank at the sad expression on the young man’s face. Thomas lay down to sleep for the night, and until he could finally fall asleep his thoughts were full of letters and words. |
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Thomas Grey, level 5, Ranger Rep +10, BT Rep +118, Brick Rep +15 SPECIAL: 6, 7, 7, 4, 7, 6, 3 Equipment Weaponry: Colt Army revolver, pocket revolver, 1x smoke/stun/baseball grenades. Armor: Pack rat clothing, leather greaves, reinforced chaps. Appearance: Caucasian. Tall, strong build, short thick curly brown hair. Dark eyes, a frown, and a cleanshaven face. Grey shirt with 3/4 sleeves and leather bracers. Jeans with reinforced leather chaps, and a tool belt. Companion: Elizabeth Sharpe - 4, 8, 4, 3, 5, 10, 6 - Small stature, but makes up for it with knives, a crossbow, and attitude. Level 5. +5 BT Rep. John Slater: SPECIAL 8(+1).4.10.5.5.4.5. One bad hombre | |
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| Mixtli | Jul 22 2016, 02:42 PM Post #4 |
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Resident Canadian
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The next day when they stopped to fill up on water Thomas approached Marcus with the book in hand and a determined look in his eyes. Marcus opened his mouth to speak, but before he could ask how the reading was coming along Thomas interrupted him. “Here.” He handed Marcus the book. “That’s not how you would test someone my age. I’m not some child.” Marcus sighed. “I’m sorry you feel that way. We’ll let you off at the town with some water and food, and you can keep the gun as a gift from me to you.” Thomas cracked a smile for the first time in days. “Why don’t you open up the book sir? I think there’s enough in there to change your mind.” Marcus opened the book and saw that a folded up piece of paper had been stuck between the pages. He pulled it out and set the book aside. When he unfolded the paper his face went still. There was a note written on the paper: “I AM NOT A CHILD. I CAN READ. GIVE ME A JOB PLEASE. THOMAS.” He looked over at Thomas. The young man was standing there nervously, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He startled Thomas by beginning to laugh. “It’s been a while since someone’s asked me for a job in writing.” He clapped Thomas on the back. “You’ve just gotten your first proper job as a free man!” Thomas couldn’t believe his luck. He was free, he was leaving the slavers far behind, and now he had a job. He was speechless. Brian had been listening to the whole conversation, and chose this moment to walk over. “You’re working under me now. Since I’m your boss now you’ll do what I tell you to as soon as I tell you to do it. And wipe that grin off your face! You’ll hate working just like the rest of us soon enough.” OOC: Ripple transition to the present Thomas shrugged. “And that’s how I started to read and write. I got better over time, and I’m glad I was able to write out enough to show that I wasn’t an idiot.” Caleb stood up. “Maybe I should have the new guys prove that they can read and write before they start working for me? I’ll see you tomorrow.” He walked out of the building, once more leaving Thomas to sit alone in his cell. Thomas thought about what was waiting for him in a few days. I have three or four days until I start to fight. I have to hake sure I’m ready. And with that he checked the bandage on his shoulder to make sure that nothing was wrong with the wound he had been given by the junkie. |
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Thomas Grey, level 5, Ranger Rep +10, BT Rep +118, Brick Rep +15 SPECIAL: 6, 7, 7, 4, 7, 6, 3 Equipment Weaponry: Colt Army revolver, pocket revolver, 1x smoke/stun/baseball grenades. Armor: Pack rat clothing, leather greaves, reinforced chaps. Appearance: Caucasian. Tall, strong build, short thick curly brown hair. Dark eyes, a frown, and a cleanshaven face. Grey shirt with 3/4 sleeves and leather bracers. Jeans with reinforced leather chaps, and a tool belt. Companion: Elizabeth Sharpe - 4, 8, 4, 3, 5, 10, 6 - Small stature, but makes up for it with knives, a crossbow, and attitude. Level 5. +5 BT Rep. John Slater: SPECIAL 8(+1).4.10.5.5.4.5. One bad hombre | |
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| Mixtli | Jul 22 2016, 02:43 PM Post #5 |
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Resident Canadian
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Charisma Caleb sat in the chair next to the doors of the cell. He’d taken a minute to fill his pipe after Thomas finished his last story, and now he was silently puffing on some stale tobacco. Thomas paced around his cell as he waited for Caleb to finish the pipe, until finally his patience ran out. He stopped his pacing and looked at Caleb. “I’ve been in here for days. I hardly move around because I want this damn stab in my shoulder to heal up. If it doesn’t heal before I fight then I have a good chance of getting killed by some asshole in a literal hole in the ground so people can bet on me. Is it that hard to understand where some of this nervous energy comes from?” Caleb opened his mouth to respond and then closed it without saying anything. Thomas glowered at him, and then stood against the back wall of his cell. He thought for a moment while rapidly tapping a foot against the ground. He smiled to himself. “This next lesson is one that I might need to relearn every now and then. It may shock you to hear this, but I’m not that great with people. Apparently spending almost twenty years of your life as a slave makes it hard to talk to people. Anyway, this lesson is how I learned to use my other talents to make up for my shit attempts at talking to people.” OOC: Ripple transition to just a few years ago, when Thomas was twenty. [He doesn’t look much different than how he does in the present. He’s got a spring in his step now that he’s been living as a free man.] Thomas was walking in front of the caravan. He was in the position of front guard for this run, and it was almost at an end. It had been a pretty long trading circuit, and today was the day they’d be pulling into a rather sizeable trading town located somewhere in the northwest corner of the commonwealth of Alabama. It was there that the tired members of the caravan would get a week of well-deserved rest before heading back out into the wastes. Thomas walked along the old road with one hand on his gun, scanning left and right for anyone that might be trying to ambush an easy target. With a start he realized that he could see a few thin strands of smoke rising in the horizon. He called back to Marcus. “Is that what I think it is? Does this mean that I get paid for taking point on a four-month run AND that I get to sleep in a bed tonight?” Behind him he heard his boss, the merchant that ran the caravan, chuckle. “Mr. Thomas, don’t get too high of an opinion of yourself. My bed will be much softer, and my pay will be MUCH better than yours.” Thomas was just happy to make it back to civilization. It’s been a while since I got to sleep with a roof over my head and eat something that wasn’t roasted over a fire. A half hour later they were pulling up to the city entrance. A half-dozen heavily armed men greeted them just outside the city limits. Marcus stepped forward with his hands in the air and a grin on his face. “Hello lads! It’s Marcus and associates, of the Trusty Marcus caravan company. I know we’re on the list of expected groups, so how about you let a tired bunch of hardworking men in?” One of the guards stepped forward and grinned. “I know who you are Marcus, I never forget the face of a man that owes me money.” He gestured to the other guards to step aside, and just like that Thomas was walking into one of the most bustling towns he had ever been to in his short time as a free man. The guard that let them in stopped and turned to Thomas. “The name’s John Law, and as the name implies I’m the man in charge of law and order around here. Allow me to formally welcome you to Bartertown.” He pointed at one large building along the main road that ran through town. “That’s the sleeping quarters for caravan employees that are staying here. You’ll find the room you’re staying in from the person behind the desk in the lobby. Next to the sleeping quarters is the mess hall. It’s a little loud, but the food is good and the booze is strong. Please don’t draw your weapons unless your life or property is in danger and I guarantee you’ll have a great time while you’re here.” |
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Thomas Grey, level 5, Ranger Rep +10, BT Rep +118, Brick Rep +15 SPECIAL: 6, 7, 7, 4, 7, 6, 3 Equipment Weaponry: Colt Army revolver, pocket revolver, 1x smoke/stun/baseball grenades. Armor: Pack rat clothing, leather greaves, reinforced chaps. Appearance: Caucasian. Tall, strong build, short thick curly brown hair. Dark eyes, a frown, and a cleanshaven face. Grey shirt with 3/4 sleeves and leather bracers. Jeans with reinforced leather chaps, and a tool belt. Companion: Elizabeth Sharpe - 4, 8, 4, 3, 5, 10, 6 - Small stature, but makes up for it with knives, a crossbow, and attitude. Level 5. +5 BT Rep. John Slater: SPECIAL 8(+1).4.10.5.5.4.5. One bad hombre | |
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| Mixtli | Jul 22 2016, 02:45 PM Post #6 |
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Resident Canadian
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The group split up to go their separate ways. Thomas made his way to the dining hall. It was a little early for dinner, but he wanted to avoid a crowd. One thing that he’d learned was that he took a while to warm up to strangers, and he would rather avoid people than cause trouble. He entered the building and as his eyes adjusted to the dim light he saw that only a few tables were occupied. A man stood behind a bar counter, and as he saw Thomas come in he waved him over to take a seat on a stool. “Thanks for sitting over here. It’s easier to get you your food than when you’re sitting on the other side of the room. Since you’re a caravan employee for one of the registered caravans the food and drink are on the house. Just don’t go crazy with the booze though. Any damages you incur come out of your employers pocket, and then probably out of your hide.” Thomas pulled out a small tangle of wires from a pouch on his tool belt and began separating them while he waited for his food to arrive. By the time the steaming plate of food was placed in front of him he had separated the wires and was twisting some of them to make a thicker strand. He put his work down to eat, and as he started to eat a woman sat down next to him. She looked to be in her late twenties. She had red hair, and a scar on her chin. She wore a tan jacket and dark pants, and she had a shotgun sticking out from the pack on her back. She picked up the wires that he had been shaping without asking him first and looked at what he had been doing with curiosity. “Hey stranger! People around here call me Red. What are you doing with the wires?” Thomas looked at the woman and finished his mouthful of food. Wow she’s pretty. “I like to keep my hands busy when I’m not on the job. Making little things like this and fixing odds and ends is a way for me to put a little extra in my pocket when I pass through settlements.” He started eating again, and she looked bemused at his response. “So do you have a name fella? I can’t call you stranger forever. And what is it you’re making anyway? Are you going to stay here long?” Thomas was starting to feel nervous from getting asked so many questions at once. When he was a slave, getting asked questions usually meant that he was about to catch a beating for something. He ate the last of his dinner and shoved the wires back into his tool belt. “If you’re so interested in what I’m making maybe you should wait to see what it is when I’m done. And my name’s Thomas.” He turned to the man standing behind the bar and asked for a drink. He was given a couple fingers of whiskey in a glass. Really? Now I’m going to try my hand at drinking to calm down? He looked at Red, and could see that his response had stung her a bit. He drank a mouthful or two of the whiskey and tried to think of something that he could say to lighten the mood. “It’s just Thomas though. I don’t have a second name.” She brightened up at his improved politeness. “Why don’t you have a second name? Hell I have a second name and I’m just a nobody. The full name’s Rebecca Milton.” Thomas finished his glass as she talked, and he could feel the alcohol beginning to take effect. Oh damn this was a bad idea. I’m a complete lightweight when it comes to drinking “I don’t have a last name because I was a farm slave for most of my life, and the only reason I wasn’t given a number is because the supervisor that constantly beat me was too much of an idiot to remember long numbers. I’ve barely been free for a year, so how in the world could I possible have a last name?” As soon as he said it he regretted it. How could she know about his past? It wasn’t fair to snap at her like that. His shame turned to bitter anger in the pit of his stomach. He stood up to leave, but she spoke before he left. “How about Asshole? Thomas Asshole sounds like a good fit to me.” He walked out of the building and he could swear that he could feel her gaze burning a hole in his back on his way out. He found out which room was his, and once he locked himself in his room he sat down on the edge of his bed and pulled out the wires. He wanted to try and calm down, but his hands were shaking so much that he gave up and threw the wires on the floor and lay down to sleep. Why am I such an asshole? He eventually drifted of thinking of how much of a screw-up he was. |
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Thomas Grey, level 5, Ranger Rep +10, BT Rep +118, Brick Rep +15 SPECIAL: 6, 7, 7, 4, 7, 6, 3 Equipment Weaponry: Colt Army revolver, pocket revolver, 1x smoke/stun/baseball grenades. Armor: Pack rat clothing, leather greaves, reinforced chaps. Appearance: Caucasian. Tall, strong build, short thick curly brown hair. Dark eyes, a frown, and a cleanshaven face. Grey shirt with 3/4 sleeves and leather bracers. Jeans with reinforced leather chaps, and a tool belt. Companion: Elizabeth Sharpe - 4, 8, 4, 3, 5, 10, 6 - Small stature, but makes up for it with knives, a crossbow, and attitude. Level 5. +5 BT Rep. John Slater: SPECIAL 8(+1).4.10.5.5.4.5. One bad hombre | |
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| Mixtli | Jul 22 2016, 02:46 PM Post #7 |
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Resident Canadian
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Thomas spent the rest of his week off hiding from other people. He didn’t know who he’d piss off next, so he made the decision to eat in his room. On the rare occasions that he’d leave the room for one reason or another he’d keep to himself. When he nearly got into a shouting match with a local trader over the cost of repairing his gun he decided that he would be better off not talking with anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. His work on the little wire figure was coming along well. He was hoping that he’d be able to trade it for something useful. On the last night he was invited to eat with the rest of the caravan by Marcus for their final dinner before they would head back out for another run and he couldn’t say no. He sat down at one of the tables with the others, and despite the tension he felt at being in a crowded room he eventually relaxed and started to have a good time. They ate too much food, and drank too much booze. Even Thomas was getting drunk. He started to unwind and enjoy dinner with the closest thing he had to a family. After an hour or so Thomas was full and happy once more, so he passed the time showing off the simple sleight of hand tricks that he picked up on the trail. He made a bullet shell vanish after he slapped his hand down on it on the table, and then proceeded to pull it out of Doc’s ear. He was in the middle of trying to juggle three of the tin plates that they had eaten off of, despite the protestation of the person bringing them their food, when Red walked in. The plates clattered on the ground when Thomas forgot what he was doing. She looked towards the source of the clattering noise and their eyes met from across the room. Thomas started to make a move towards her and she turned and left. I’ve got to try and make things right. He hurried after her out of the building, and he caught up with her a few paces from the front entrance of the dining hall. She spun around to face him. “What do you want now? Did you forget to say something else the last time you tore a chunk out of me?” She didn’t look upset or tearful at the treatment that she had received from Thomas. Instead she was simply angry and she looked at Thomas like he was dirt. She took a step closer at him and slapped him in the face. He stood there and took it. The blow stung, but he knew that he deserved it for how he had talked to her. She drew back her hand again and this time he grabbed her wrist before she could hit him again. He looked at her with narrowed eyes. “You know I never actually hit you, so I’d appreciate it if you could stick to saying something,” and he let go of her wrist. She looked at him, breathing heavily, and Thomas could see that she was fighting through her anger to say something more coherent than a yell. “I should stick to hurtful words? I SHOULD STICK TO HURTFUL WORDS? How about you just apologize for being a dick.” She stepped closer glared at him. “I was just trying to be nice and you lose your mind and start treating me like I was the reason for everything going wrong in your life. Well, I hope that you figure out quick that everyone out here has had a miserable life. You were a slave? My parents beat me until they thought they had killed me and dumped my body in a ditch somewhere. I’ve had to take care of myself ever since!” Her anger choked of her words, and in the moment of silence Thomas swung his right hand up towards her. She closed her eyes and flinched from the expected blow. |
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Thomas Grey, level 5, Ranger Rep +10, BT Rep +118, Brick Rep +15 SPECIAL: 6, 7, 7, 4, 7, 6, 3 Equipment Weaponry: Colt Army revolver, pocket revolver, 1x smoke/stun/baseball grenades. Armor: Pack rat clothing, leather greaves, reinforced chaps. Appearance: Caucasian. Tall, strong build, short thick curly brown hair. Dark eyes, a frown, and a cleanshaven face. Grey shirt with 3/4 sleeves and leather bracers. Jeans with reinforced leather chaps, and a tool belt. Companion: Elizabeth Sharpe - 4, 8, 4, 3, 5, 10, 6 - Small stature, but makes up for it with knives, a crossbow, and attitude. Level 5. +5 BT Rep. John Slater: SPECIAL 8(+1).4.10.5.5.4.5. One bad hombre | |
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| Mixtli | Jul 22 2016, 02:47 PM Post #8 |
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Resident Canadian
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The punch never landed, and when she opened her eyes she saw that Thomas was holding a small flower made of stripped copper wire in his hand, and he was offering it to her. She accepted it carefully, and was amazed by how delicate the beautiful wire flower was. Thomas took the opportunity to speak. “I’m sorry for being so awful to you. I’m still getting used to being a free man, and crowds and questions from strangers seem to set me on edge.” He trailed off for a moment, and scratched the back of his head as he tried to find the words he was looking for. “I’m ok with my hands, and I usually try and sell the things that I make for a little extra cash when I’m able. After how I treated you I decided that the only way I could try and make it up to you was to give you a gift as an apology-“ In the middle of his apology she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him on the mouth. Now it was his turn to be stunned into silence. She laughed at the look on his face. “Well Mr. Thomas I seem to get the impression that there were no pretty girls to kiss when you were still working on that farm?” He stood gobsmacked, and for the first time in his life he felt a sleight blush creep up onto his face. She laughed again at his embarrassment. “There’s nothing wrong with being inexperienced with girls. And you know what? I think you should finally get that second name. “Asshole” doesn’t seem to fit you anymore. Let’s see… You’re a little bland until someone talks to you, you’re not much fun, and you aren’t really that happy.” She looked thoughtful for a moment, and then excitedly clapped her hands. “I know! Your last name can be Grey! It’s not much to look at, but when you get used to it it’s not half bad,” she teased. Thomas was struck with the suggestion. Could I really just give myself another name like that? Well I guess there aren’t really rules for what your name is are there? He liked the name. He hadn’t met another person with the name so it was unique enough. He grinned at her. “I, uh, I like it!” He leaned in to kiss her again, and she laughed and pushed him away. “Thomas Grey! I’m not the kind of girl you can just take liberties with whenever you please!” An almost predatory glint shone in her eye. “But maybe you could come back to my room to show me where on my shelf I should keep the flower.” Thomas looked at her for a moment, not understanding what she was hinting at. His eyes widened as he figured out what she was saying. “I uh, I guess I could help you with that,” he said, following her back to the employee housing. The next day he joined back up with his caravan. Marcus looked at the state of Thomas’s clothes and the tired look in his eyes and laughed at the young man. “Well Mr. Thomas if I didn’t know any better I’d say that you had a bit of good luck last night after you left dinner.” He clapped the yawning young man on the back, and chuckling, he walked over to the wagon to make sure everything was strapped down. Thomas spoke as Marcus was busy with the wagon. “Actually, it’s Mr. Thomas Grey now.” The bent old cigarette that Marcus was trying to light fell from his lips, and he turned around to look at Thomas with wide eyes. Thomas waved his hands at his boss: “Nonono I’m not married now! I had a little help and I was able to come up with a better second name than “Freeman”.” [Ripple transition to the present] Caleb seemed to have enjoyed that last story. “He thought you’d gotten married to a caravan employee in some small trading settlement,” he said, roaring with laughter. “That’s rich. But well done Thomas," he said as he patted his gut, "Not all of us are lucky enough to be able to get some action without paying for it.” He wiped the tears from his eyes. “Alright Thomas, let’s get to the next story while the day is young.” |
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Thomas Grey, level 5, Ranger Rep +10, BT Rep +118, Brick Rep +15 SPECIAL: 6, 7, 7, 4, 7, 6, 3 Equipment Weaponry: Colt Army revolver, pocket revolver, 1x smoke/stun/baseball grenades. Armor: Pack rat clothing, leather greaves, reinforced chaps. Appearance: Caucasian. Tall, strong build, short thick curly brown hair. Dark eyes, a frown, and a cleanshaven face. Grey shirt with 3/4 sleeves and leather bracers. Jeans with reinforced leather chaps, and a tool belt. Companion: Elizabeth Sharpe - 4, 8, 4, 3, 5, 10, 6 - Small stature, but makes up for it with knives, a crossbow, and attitude. Level 5. +5 BT Rep. John Slater: SPECIAL 8(+1).4.10.5.5.4.5. One bad hombre | |
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| Funkifan | Jul 26 2016, 08:23 PM Post #9 |
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The Cobras' Leader
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I must say, that I really enjoyed the solo. And I liked how on both stories you build up the narrative until the climax, and on both is very well done. I like how Thomas appears to be each time so confident and inspired when he is narrating the story, and I believe that even Caleb realizes that. I enjoyed how he told the stories, as they made them greatly enjoyable for me, and they also appear to have been important parts of his life, which made Thomas grew into the man that he is today. And that is always nice to see. On my opinion, giving small stories on how a character has evolved over his life is something that is important during his or her building, instead of just assuming that this happened as a fact, or without giving much depth to it. I am unsure if they were purposeful, but I really like easter eggs, and nods to movies and videogames on stories. Bartertown, from Mad Max, and 'Freeman' from Half-Life series are two things that I love, so good job, ma boy! Now, I wanted to say that, although I really found the flow of the story and the general direction you took it being done with excellency, in some parts I found the dialogue, that, although vastly improved, has still some issues on what comes to what the characters are trying to convey, on my opinion. I feel that the conversations sometimes feel a little stilted, like, sluggish, but so far, you have improved a lot. I also wanted to say that I didn't understood very well what the issue between Thomas and Red was at first. On my opinion, it lacked that feeling needed to make their interactions more believable. Still, I enjoyed how on the end they make peace with each other. I also felt that she is a character that needs another revisiting, as her backstory gives form for many questions and queries. Now, last, I wanted to say that, (more like a peeve for me.) while the transitions feel smooth, I think that the readers do not need to be reminded when the character transitions from a flashback to back to reality. I just find that some hints concerning the change have to be given, enough to show the reader that the flashback just ended, but not too many as to not disrupt the general narrative. This is one of my favorite solos that you have done. Well written, and interesting. Now, with the rewards! ![]()
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Edgar Algae -HC- SPECIAL: 3-5-7-8-6-7-4 Level: 4 Edgar is a tall, attractive man, with red bright hair, green eyes, and tan skin, due to his Hispanic heritage. He currently wears a yellow t-shirt, with cargo shorts, a Leather Jacket (Tier 2, Good CON, plus on intimidation checks). Attached to his left wrist, he possesses an Automedical Assistant. On his back, he carries an XL Rucksack, that contains several items of his', like a Medical armored Suitcase, filled with all sorts of medical equipment. His weapon of choice is the Study Group Special, a modified mini-zapper. He is Good Natured, Spongey, and has Sex Appeal (For the girls) +120 BT Reputation; +90 Nawlins Reputation | |
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