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| The Eyes of a Snake and a Madman; Otriad hosts the Madsnake | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 5 2016, 03:30 AM (497 Views) | |
| FallenSanity | Oct 5 2016, 03:30 AM Post #1 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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A dried out riverbed formed a natural barrier between the Madsnake and his flock of junkies, who could see over it the remains of a small country town. It wasn’t much to write home about, not from far off at least, where all that could be seen was a small defensive set of buildings that were, from what the Madsnake was able to observe, the only thing in the entire town. A few figures could be seen wandering about, but nothing too clear. The junkies began to settle in, and the Madsnake decided that it would probably be best to humour them. He walked over, and from his pocket, pulled out a handful of chems. They looked up, and he nodded, tossing them down onto the ground. A ring of trees, dead for the most part, formed the small hollow that the junkies had decided would be their temporary den. The group of them pawed at the dirt, grabbing at the chems that they could, but none of them were strong or smart enough to outdo the ghoul, who still took up the role of leader amongst them. He grabbed every last drug, and began to divide them up properly based on, probably, how long their respective highs lasted. For the five of them, there were more than enough, but the plan was to keep them all as effected as possible for as long as possible. The Madsnake didn’t totally understand - he’d had a history of chem addiction, but he’d never rationed it like this - but he didn’t bother to argue or get involved. He moved away, finding his own area to organise. Opening up the sack he’d been given by Fowler, he pulled out the water can and the vest, before standing up and emptying his pockets and whatever faux straps he’d been forced to attach to his outfit to facilitate his growing horde. By the time everything of value was in the sack, from the strange pre-war board game, ‘gold’, and his hides and lids, to the less valuable objects, like a rib bone, a pile of rubber, and an incredible amount of tea, the Madsnake only had one thing to address. He tied the sack up, setting it aside as he began to undress. The Madsnake lived a hard life, and it showed. His physique, impressive at first, did little to counter the raw burdened nature of how he treated it; burns and scars, and so much else, meant that most of his torso was hard to look at, while a new layer of grime, sweat, blood, and God knows what else made even the junkies turn away. He toor away at his desert clothing, which hung in tatters off of his body, and wrapped the long sheets and rags around his legs, covering up older holes and tears. He tied the last knot, and stood back up, stretching wide and groaning as he felt the winds of the world glide over him. Even out here, among trees and a dried out river bed, in view of his goal, he felt lost and cold, with the sun hanging overhead, and the desert breeze blowing sand against his bare body. He leant down, grabbing the vest off of the floor, and pulling it over his thick arms. It was a nice fit, and he felt comfortable now. He didn’t look like some lost wanderer, and he was certainly not prepared for the wilds of the environment, but for now he didn’t care. It was comfort he sought, and it was comfort he would have. The Madsnake hoisted up his sack, throwing it over his shoulder and feeling the weight pull him down just a little bit. He moved to look face onto the junkies, but stopped after noticing he’d kicked something at his feet. His aluminium water bottle, another gift from Fowler, was nearly left behind. The Madsnake leant down, picking it up and finding a spot on his side to attach it to, before finally preparing to leave. “Y-you goin’, Thom?” The Madsnake looked at the junkies in a circle, holding back a sigh as he watched a handover of a Med-X needle. Two of them were already in a daze, and the ghoul that spoke was the last in the line it seemed. He showed some interesting degree of concern, his gaze flicking from the needle to his former ‘boss’ as it looked like he was finally about to leave them with their payment. “Yes. Otriad beckons. I’ve no idea how long I’ll stay. You may go your own way, if you’d wish. I’ve no quarrel there. Live carefully, there are bad people out here, in the Wasteland.” The ghoul chortled a bit, nodding, as the needle was finally handed to him. With that his attention was gone, and the Madsnake took the opportunity to vanish from their attention, heading down into the miniature ravine created by the dried up riverbed, crossing through it and feeling the mudcracks giving way beneath his feet before crossing over to the other side, ignoring the carcass of a mole rat not too far off, which was attracting the attention of a number of insects and smaller creatures. It was fresh, that’s for sure; whoever hunted it must have not been a fan of the taste. That was a decently good thing really, because it meant that whoever inhabited Otriad had the right to pick and choose their meals. Perhaps it would be a place that was actually thriving. The Madsnake clambered out of the river bed, stepping onto a long set of dirt between himself and the nearest building. As soon as he did, he heard a faint voice, and then a sudden yell, as well as two men popping up out what seemed like nothing, one pointing a revolver and the other a carbine in his direction. They were too far for him to do anything, and he didn’t really want to anyway, not now at least. He hesitated, before finally raising his hands in the air, and watching the two men close in on him. They had keen eyes, and were well coordinated. One watched his arms and feet, while the other analysed him, noticing the bottle, the sack, and of course the handle of the baseball bat protruding from said sack. By the time one of them was on him, it was an immediate reaction. The militiaman pulled him down, forcing the Madsnakes arms up as he pulled the sack off and tossed it aside. When the other one made it, he slammed the barrel of his gun into the back of the Madsnake’s head, while he was patted down. Fuck off! The Madsnake struggled a little, before giving in, and waiting. Soon he was hoisted back up to his feet, with one of them locking his arms in behind him, as the other held a gun to his forehead. Finally, the Madsnake could look at these men, and realise just how geared up they were. The one before him had a .32 caliber revolver tight in his grip, a combat knife tucked into a shoulder sheath, and a full suit of pre-war security armour, though it was missing some pads and had a number of bullet holes in it. The man himself looked just a few years away from thirty, with a clean shaven face and dull brown eyes, one of which had a large burn scar that disappeared into a head of mangy hair. The Madsnake could see this look of authority and fear in the man’s eyes. “What’re you doing wandering in over the farms, huh? Another raider trying to bust in?” A simple headshake was all the Madsnake gave him at first, before feeling the barrel butted into his head a second time. He groaned, looking the man dead in the eye and speaking clear, crisp words, as best he could. “I am a mere traveller. I’ve come from the north, further than Waco. I seek nothing more than refuge and haven, for as long as I am allowed. There is no ill will within me.” Lying creep! The man raised his brow, questioning the integrity of this stranger. It wasn’t safe to let random people into the town, especially ones with a weapon on them. However, the Madsnake looked nothing like a raider, and he seemed certainly in need of rest. He walked behind the Madsnake, and the lunatic could barely hear what was being said. Suddenly he felt his arms let free, and he leant down to grab his bag before it was snatched away by the second soldier, who wandered away with it. The Madsnake almost bolted after him, but not before feeling a hit in the back of the head. “Follow him. We’re taking you around to the proper entrance. Stick to roads, idiot.” Really? Just gonna wander with these strangers? Remember when you would’ve fucked boys like this up for questioning you, for challenging you? What happened to you, Daniel? Was it the drugs? The Madsnake was ushered into the riverbed, where he and his entourage wandered. After some time, the guard behind him split off, returning to his former duty, and the Madsnake and his leading man were left in silence. For a while he could see a fence, that ran just behind the shacks established out of ruined buildings. The farmland itself was quite noticeable, if not for its size then for its lack of any actual produce. Small sprouts were being overrun by grass, and the Madsnake wondered just what was going wrong with their farms. He wondered if it was something to do with the slowly dying trade in the area. By the time he wa on the road, which felt rather new, the Madsnake was able to see the town in full. There were five buildings, one a solid two stories tall with a wooden sign reading ‘Hoctor’s Dry Good Stores’ hanging above its door. However, that wasn’t the building that drew the Madsnake’s eye - that honour went to the brick building, just down the road, with sandbags all around it and, most foreboding, a set of five men and women on patrol, in arms and armour, peering at the Madsnake as if he was the only person on the planet. This was most assuredly Otriad. Looking around the town, the Madsnake could only see a handful of people, about four, wandering about, and half of them were yet more men and women in arms and armour. This place felt like a military state, but somehow it was cozy. The small well in the center of the town was in fine condition, and when the Madsnake was made to stop, his gaze was yanked away from it. “This is Otriad. As you can see, there are more than just myself and my partner guarding it. Don’t do anything stupid. We have eyes on this town at all times. Value your life? Don’t fuck with us or these people. If you’re looking for room and board, you’ll find it from whoever is willing to take you in. Good luck, stranger.” Fuck them! With that, the Madsnake was given his bag, and he was left on his own. A few eyes darted his way, but not as many as one would expect. He looked at the buildings, and the people wandering, and counted just around eleven people, almost all of them security. Before the Madsnake had anywhere to go, one of the town’s inhabitants was upon him, a young woman no older than twenty-five, her eyes glued to his battered chest. “My goodness, yer a sight! Are ya hurt at all? They weren’t too rough?” The Madsnake didn’t grasp what she was saying quite as fast as he’d like, but it wasn’t so long that he lost her attention. He shook his head, smiling and patting his bare chest, brushing off some of the muck that had caked itself to his body. “Not at all. This isn’t their doing, I promise that much; worse forces have had their way with me, and I’ve dealt them swifter hands than I did those watchmen. Believe me, I’d never let them have the upperhand. I’m Thomas. This town is quite lovely.” The woman before him smiled, drawn in by a fairly smooth tongue and the sexual appeal of a handsome, rugged stranger, an exotic wonder that rarely found itself in these parts. She was used to the caravans, bearing either men or women of hideous punishments, beaten by both time and the world. This man, the Madsnake, was beaten by neither. “I’m Abigail, though most just call me Abbey. Fella like you, what brings you down these parts? Headed to Austin? Or just… fixing for a good time?” The Madsnake gave her a fashionable smile, looking down at her, and then looking around the town. He was getting more eyes now than before, and it meant he was having some degree of an impression. That was exactly what he was hoping for. “I am looking for rest, Abigail. A rest and a meal. I don’t suppose you’d know where I could get either of those?” She bit her lip, before gesturing towards Hoctor’s Dry Goods Store, from which two men had emerged earlier, one wearing a plaid shirt and jeans and the other wearing an armoured jacket, clearly a member of this security force. “You’ll find some decent food in there, if you’re hungry now. If you’re after a place to rest though, there’s a spare bed at my home, and we even use some of the water from the well to clean folk off, if they’re needy enough. You certainly… seem to be.” Her gaze again fell on his chest, before directing back to his face. The Madsnake had her right where he wanted her. He let a sly grin crawl across his face, nodding and biting his own lip, making sure she saw it. “I could use a bath, I think.” |
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Daniel Orton [HC] Lvl 6: Copperhead Cook Rep: -40 Eastern Texas, -250 Texas Rangers, +90 Crag Equipped: Mirrored Sunglasses, Armstrong Hellcat Necklace, Raider Armour, Culture-Clash Jacket, Crag Swag (Jeans), Black Banana Hammock, Leather Belt, Desert Boots, Skullfucker, Death Knell, Combat Knife, Sharp Hatchet, Hannibals Haymaker, Pre-War Mountain Bike Status Effects: Internal Parasite Abilities: Sucker Punch S:6 P:3 E:5 C:5 I:3 A:10 L:8 Elizabeth 'Eli' Stoudemire Lvl 1: Humble Hobo Equipped: Knife, Revolver, Coat S:3 P:8 E:4 C:6 I:4 A:8 L:7 CP: FS has a bachelors degree in poor taste and a masters in bad manners LD: Orton can be whatever Hamiltons version of The Nightman is FP: fs youre like in a very minor minority where cauze youre autistic and gay and an asshole you can say any slur | |
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| FallenSanity | Oct 6 2016, 01:13 AM Post #2 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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The Madsnake rolled out of bed, rolling his shoulders before feeling his muscles relax and return to their semi-comfortable selves. He stood up, stretching out wide, before walking over to his bag and clothes in the corner of the room. He kicked aside Abigail’s clothes, that had nestled onto his own, and pulled on his pants, tying them tight around waist to keep them on. They were still a mish mash of rags and tattered sheets, but they were comfortable, and they protected him against the weather. What else could he ask for, really? The Madsnake grabbed the denim vest he had tossed onto the floor, and pulled it over his arms. As he looked up, he could see shards of glass, put together to form a mirror. He forgot how nicely he cleaned up. Abigail had tied his hair up, and even given his growing beard a trim, and it meant that he looked better than he had in ages. Even still, his whitened eyes and scarred face would catch people off guard. He could only do so much with what he had available, and what he had available was decent even at face value. He looked at his chest, and was immediately pleased to see just how different he looked when he was made clean. The mud and grime and the layer of blood was all washed away, and what was left was scars, burns, damage he had forgotten about. The Madsnake knew he wasn’t going to have the easiest time in the world dealing with people in this town, not looking like this, but it was better than looking like some wastelander scum. “Mmnn… Already awake?” The Madsnake looked over his shoulder, turning to look at Abigail as she sat up in bed, her hair a mess and her body covered by a thin linen sheet, the same one that was draped over the bed and hanging just off the edges of the worn out mattress. He smirked as the sheet dropped off her, exposing her body, and just momentarily reminding him of what he’d done last night. She adjusted, covering herself up, and smiling up at him happily. “Hungry? Could really do with a pickmeup after that night. I don’t think we got anything in the house but we can get something cooked up from Hoctor’s. What’d’ya say?” He nodded, looking at his reflection and holding back a very needy smile from spreading across his face. He relaxed, breathing calmly, before pulling his bag up over his back, and then almost instantly setting it back down. There was no harm in leaving here, he thought, knowing full well that the few inhabitants of this house had other things to do; according to Abigail, her mother worked out in the farmland, and her father had gone missing nearly four years ago now, more than likely left rotting on the side of the road by an aggressive gang of wandering bandits. The Madsnake wondered how likely it would be that he was figured out, seen through as being just some freak wandering in from the north, before remembering that this was a town of farmers and guns-for-hire. Chances were that he drastically outclassed those around him. The Madsnake looked over at Abigail, who had put on a decent looking knee length skirt and loose fitting top, along with some other minor accessories. She looked fine enough. With that, the two of them made their leave from the small shack-house, and out into Otriad’s town center. Abigail was quick to react, but the Madsnake was not. A scream ran across the town, and all of the already distressed eyes turned to its source, as Abigail rushed over to the brawl by the well. One of the mercenaries present, who was holding a man almost over the edge of the well, pushed off and backed away, as he relented in wake of the attention, with Abigail being the straw that broke his back. The entourage around him backed off, and with that the three mercenaries were out of sight through the crowd. Abigail was the youngest person in the entire town, and it showed with her reaction. The others were bitter faced, angered and stern. The man lying propped up against the well wiped some blood from his brow. “Don’t worry yourself ‘bout this, Abi. T’aint nothin’ more than a scratch…” One of the civilians moved over, kneeling and pulling out a small pad of sponges to check the wound. She looked like the medical expert of the town, likely the smartest person there, and somehow also the smallest looking; she had a thin frame, and it looked like she was barely even at five feet. She pulled out a small needle and twine, and went to work in stitching up the wound in her friends head. “You’ve got to stop fighting with them, Marcus. One day they’ll live up to their promise and we’ll have to fish you out of that well, bones and all.” “They don’t have it in ‘em, swear. They’re just a bunch of puffed up raiders, far as I’m concerned, and s’long as they make demands for higher tribute, I’ll stand up to them. Ain't my fault no one else is!” The crowd turned their attention to him, and one of the men at the front bellowed down at him, his deep voice matching his massive size. “Ah swear, Marcus, if’n they don’t toss ya down that water hole, it’ll be may.” There was a slight chuckle that ran through the gathering, and slowly the tension began to die down. Abigail looked around, and spoke up out of confusion, having missed quite what had gone on. “Hold on, what happened here? Aren’t they supposed to be our protectors? Why’re they threatening Mister Bowe like this?” A few people looked at Abigail with a humouring smile, knowing she was young and found it hard to figure out what was going on with the politics of the town. There was a murmur, and some eyes went to the Madsnake, who stepped back a little, separating himself from the crowd and from Abigail. “Mister Edward Shanks promised his boys a pay raise. Never promised them when. Now they’re shaking us up to give them something more than they’re getting, most asking for a percentage of our farmed goods. As if we can really promise them that much. It’s ludicrous, someone’s gotta talk to that old coot, make sure he gets his boys back in line. This is our town, not theirs.” Abigail still looked flustered and confused, but she didn’t bother to delve any deeper. As the crowd slowly disbanded, she stepped over to the Madsnake, and grabbed his arm, holding it tight. He could tell it was a case of her own comfort and security, but he still wondered if it was really the best thing to do right now. If it kept him from looking like some creep, perhaps it was. He simply followed her stride, as she led him over to the two storey house, with its fine wooden sign, and a swinging door. Hoctor’s Dry Goods, where they were hopefully going to find some breakfast. |
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Daniel Orton [HC] Lvl 6: Copperhead Cook Rep: -40 Eastern Texas, -250 Texas Rangers, +90 Crag Equipped: Mirrored Sunglasses, Armstrong Hellcat Necklace, Raider Armour, Culture-Clash Jacket, Crag Swag (Jeans), Black Banana Hammock, Leather Belt, Desert Boots, Skullfucker, Death Knell, Combat Knife, Sharp Hatchet, Hannibals Haymaker, Pre-War Mountain Bike Status Effects: Internal Parasite Abilities: Sucker Punch S:6 P:3 E:5 C:5 I:3 A:10 L:8 Elizabeth 'Eli' Stoudemire Lvl 1: Humble Hobo Equipped: Knife, Revolver, Coat S:3 P:8 E:4 C:6 I:4 A:8 L:7 CP: FS has a bachelors degree in poor taste and a masters in bad manners LD: Orton can be whatever Hamiltons version of The Nightman is FP: fs youre like in a very minor minority where cauze youre autistic and gay and an asshole you can say any slur | |
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| FallenSanity | Oct 8 2016, 07:34 AM Post #3 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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Hoctor’s Dry Goods wasn’t anything special, really. A painted door formed a fitting welcome, but once you were in you were met with rotting tables, broken old chairs, and a single shelf all pushed aside in the front of the store, scrap wood in piles and essentially being used to keep the building standing. Meanwhile near the back of the store, there was at least some semblance of a professional merchant, as a single table was set up with enough to make it stand out. The till was manned, seemingly, by a single black and white cat, sitting on top of it and staring the Madsnake down as he wandered up with Abigail to the front of the store. “Hoctor! Hoctor!? Consarnit, where’s he’s run off to? Hm, Reba? Where’s your master?” The Madsnake didn’t really bother to pay as much attention to his associate as he perhaps should have, fading away from her mentally as soon as she began to coo for the cat, whose eyes remained set on the Madsnake until Abigail had her hand at its chin, scratching it into submission. The Madsnake kept his gaze around the store, noting a wind-up radio, a large stocked shelf, and a fridge with its door busted open. A fair sum of junk littered the back area, but so too did produce, and the Madsnake wouldn’t spend his time issuing complaints in that regard. The whole store stunk of piss, which was odd. The Madsnake wondered if it was the cats doing, or perhaps something more. As the low hum of the radio filled the room, a mere buzz of static, the Madsnake peered over the edge of the table, which itself was long enough to come off as a booth, with a blanket to cover anything behind or under it. As he tried to look over, the black and white cat sprang into action, leaping from Abigail’s hold and at the Madsnake, who just barely managed to move out of the way of the flying cat, who skidded off the end of the table before skittering around and out of sight behind it. That was when a sound carried out overhead, and the Madsnake and Abigail looked up, noticing a gap in the ceiling that led down a staircase behind the table. Down each step came a man near five feet tall, with a thin head of dirty hair, wearing old jeans and a cold plaid shirt, one sleeve rolled up to show off a bracer, while the other was left hanging and open to accommodate the shoulder guard strapped to it. In his hands, he carried a great and terrible double-barreled shotgun, before lowering it as he noticed just who had freaked out his dear cat. Hoctor, it seemed, was ready to fight at a moments notice. “In the Lord’s nuh-ame Abigail, what you doin' causin' that ruckus? Reba, git back in hair! Sorry for that, Ah was uh. . . busy, jus', dealin' with some important burg matters. Whoh’s thuh straynger?” Abigail smiled as Hoctor put his gun away, seemingly stowing it under the table. She knew him very well, because it had been him who raised her in place of her father for the past four years, teaching her to shoot, skin, hunt, farm, and more. The two were close, and if all went well, it would be her who would take the dry goods store once he was gone. That thought left her feeling warm inside very often - the idea of being safe and comfortable in here, rather than working hard and near dying for strangers like her poor mother, it made her think her life had been worth living. She clung to the Madsnake’s arm, as she happily introduced him to her closest and dearest friend. “This here’s my new friend, Thomas. He just wandered in from the north, far as Waco. Apparently, he was given an awful rude welcome by those mercenary fellows. Can’t imagine why, he’s no harmful soul.” As she spoke, Hoctor’s eyes slowly panned over to ‘Thomas’ who refused to shift at the attention. He stood rigid, staring back at the store owner, both with slight frowns across their faces. There was a pause after Abigail finished, but Hoctor didn’t let the silence linger for too long. “That's because strayngers kay-yun be dangerous, Abigail. Some awf 'em fetch disease, 'ate, or ahr jus' 'ateful themselves. Bandits ahr bad, raiders worse. The-yn thair's thuh straynge folk, thuh ones who wander for miles jus' lookin' for an easy stop t' pick awn. Maybe thay wanna rustle it, may-uk it afeared, so thay kay-yun pillayge it eend its people. Maybe thay're scoutin' it for sumthin' worse. Maybe thay're jus' sick minded. Which one you, Thomas?” Kill them! The Madsnake had to bite his tongue to stop himself from barking back an immediate retort. The clerk had this look of legitimate anger on his face, as if he could see straight through the man in front of him and read the bottled up emotions and the cracked mind within. He took a second to compose himself before shaking his head, smirking a little bit too cheekily, waving his hand to dismiss Hoctor as breezily as he could. “I am none, Hoctor. I am a stranger and a wanderer and no more, I am here to seek shelter and rest. My goal lies in Austin, not here in Otriad. If it did I would have it by now.” Hoctor was far from convinced; Abigail was an easy mind to sway, but he had seen all manner of people and he knew just from how this man held himself that he was not a common one. Farmers and traders had a slouch to their shoulders, while soldiers stood with their heads high and their attention on their surroundings. This man seemed as if he was in a constant daze, seeing the world through a pane of dirty glass, disconnected and uncaring of both those around him and himself. Hoctor shook his head, and decided to avoid pursuing the issue further, turning to Abigail who was already focusing on the stock in front of her. “Squat hair is too fresh, but thair is a lot awf it, so fill free ta git whatevher ya want. For ya it's all awn thuh house, but Ah cain't say thuh same for yo-wr partner ovher hair.” “Oh that’s no problem, Hoc! He’ll be dining with me! Ooh, I love the look of those cabbages! Nowhere near as mutated as normal! Awh, look those cornstalks! They’re adorable! Can we get two cabbages and a corn, Hoc?” Hoctor quickly returned his attention to Abigail, breaking an angry staring contest with the Madsnake, nodding happily and letting an ill fitting smile spread from cheek to cheek. He grabbed a small wooden box of the floor behind him, lifting it up and plopping down two cabbages and a stick of corn. Abigail leant over the table, whispering to Hoctor, and passing him a single small hide. He shook his head smiling, accepting the payment and grabbing a bottle of Nuka-Cola out of the fridge, adding it to the set. Hoctor pushed it forward, and looked at the Madsnake, grimacing as the stranger from the north spoke up. “No meat, Abigail?” She pulled the crate off of the table, looking at her partner with a bemused grin, before realising he was serious. She adjusted herself, scratched her neck and gave Hoctor a pleading look, to which he immediately shook his head. “Ifin' 'e wants steak, 'e kay-yun pay for it himself. Sorry Abigail.” The Madsnake snarled a little under his breath, before shaking his head and smiling again, looking Hoctor dead in his eye, almost challenging him with his pale dead stare. The two were growing a bond and it was one the Madsnake wasn’t sure he liked, and so he would do all he could to turn it to his benefit, if he was capable. “That is fine, then. I shall make no purchases here, not now. I may come back later, we will see.” Hoctor nodded, before waving Abigail off happily, as she took the Madsnake’s arm and headed back out into Otriad Proper. Hoctor shook his head as Reba leapt up next to him, her mangy tail wrapping around her as her masters hand ran up and down her back. Little did Hoctor know that for all the trust he lacked in that stranger, Reba lacked even more. She leapt down and skittered out of the shutting door, eager to track that strange, spooky figure that had dared to be so in her presence. Abigail was a light-hearted, empty minded girl, but she was happy, and that was more than a lot of folk could say. She had a smile that lit up rooms and filled people with this inane sense of joy, and it was huge for Otriad to have someone like that. Even still, there were things that made her life miserable, and thinking of the hard work of her mother was one, labouring out in the farmlands and now, as it seemed, all just to pay off some inflated egos rather than feed those who deserved their hard works reward. Inside she boiled a little, just thinking about it. “So, wanna head back to the house for eat’s? Or we can, uh, head over to the salvage yard, I know it has somethin’ that sort of passes for a little park. We could have some sorta picnic.” The Madsnake shook his head, looking at the well and the people who puttered around with nothing better to do. The well itself was sturdy, that much was obvious, and it could operate as a decent place to sit and rest, but the fact was that as nice as Otriad seemed to be, it really wasn’t. The eyes of soldiers and mercenaries were always on you, and if they wanted to eat it would probably be best to do it indoors. The Madsnake held back a sigh, nodding and looking at Abigail’s home, not far away. “We should eat at the house. It is comforting to be there, and I feel as if you need something comfortable right now.” It wasn’t obvious, and the Madsnake was making a gamble really, but with all Abigail had been involved with today already - walking in on a brawl in the middle of the town, and then having her new friend questioned and disputed by her dearest friend - she would surely need a rest and a proper meal in her. She nodded slowly, and the two headed in the direction of her residence, which itself housed two other members of the small neighbourhood. One of them, her mother, was of course in the farms, while the other, one of the town’s traders, was absent lately. The Madsnake was happy to have such an empty place to settle down, honestly. As the two of them entered and set themselves down, the Madsnake spotted something in the corner of his eye, darting past the door as it closed. That black and white cat had followed them to the house, and though it wasn’t inside it was clearly something that was able to sense the minor confusions and contusions in the Madsnake’s mind. It and Hoctor were high on his list at this point. “That damn banker is the worst sorta man.” The Madsnake turned his attention to Abigail, who had managed to snap him out of his thoughts. She’d been quiet for a while, and to hear her speak so harshly caught him off-guard. He readjusted as she cut up the cabbage and strippd the corn off of its cob, sighing and wiping her brow gently. “He hires some two handfuls of men, without even askin’ the people they’re hired to help. Then he demands we make payments for ‘em coz they protect us, as if we needed it, and now they’re demandin’ more? What’re we supposed to do? We’re a dwindling people here, Otriad aint some big booming city. We can’t afford this, not with what he’s promising, things that just aint his to promise. I swear, if that damn old coot just wound up missing, aint nobody who’d care. Could do the town a great service if I was the one to make the judgement call.” Cut him! Skin him! Kill him! The Madsnake gripped the edge of the table tight, breathing deeply as he let the thoughts flow out of his mind. She kept talking, but he stopped listening, as his mind ran tricks and games to catch him and ruin his day as fully as it could. The Madsnake took a few deep breaths, or so he had thought, and before he was done a plate was set out for him, with cabbage leaves and corn kernels laid out. Abigail smiled at him from across the table, digging into her food quickly, clearly more starved than she deserved to be. The Madsnake ate too, but slower, less eager to devour his meal now than he had been in some time. His hunger soon took over, and he ate with some similarity to haste, and once he and she were done they laid back, happy for a brief moment. Just gonna sit back and retire to this life eh? It’s fun right? Just get a rocking chair, and old dog, maybe a doorag, you could be a moonshine salesmen, wouldn’t that be nice? You’d love that, wouldn’t you Daniel? Snap him! Find him! Eat him! The Madsnake stood up, hands shaking and heart pounding. Abigail looked up, but she didn’t get a chance to speak before he did. “I am... going to make, a, visit to the… to the… The monetary outpost. I should not be too long.” The Madsnake opened the door, and in a flash shut it behind him, breathing heavily, trying to calm himself down. He took long, deep breaths, feeling his mind calm itself, until he felt it become empty. He enjoyed that feeling more than the others. He looked down at his feet, and saw the black and white cat, before it darted away. |
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Daniel Orton [HC] Lvl 6: Copperhead Cook Rep: -40 Eastern Texas, -250 Texas Rangers, +90 Crag Equipped: Mirrored Sunglasses, Armstrong Hellcat Necklace, Raider Armour, Culture-Clash Jacket, Crag Swag (Jeans), Black Banana Hammock, Leather Belt, Desert Boots, Skullfucker, Death Knell, Combat Knife, Sharp Hatchet, Hannibals Haymaker, Pre-War Mountain Bike Status Effects: Internal Parasite Abilities: Sucker Punch S:6 P:3 E:5 C:5 I:3 A:10 L:8 Elizabeth 'Eli' Stoudemire Lvl 1: Humble Hobo Equipped: Knife, Revolver, Coat S:3 P:8 E:4 C:6 I:4 A:8 L:7 CP: FS has a bachelors degree in poor taste and a masters in bad manners LD: Orton can be whatever Hamiltons version of The Nightman is FP: fs youre like in a very minor minority where cauze youre autistic and gay and an asshole you can say any slur | |
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| FallenSanity | Oct 12 2016, 07:47 AM Post #4 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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The Madsnake took time to study the area in front of him, watching the well and the people who wandered around it. He couldn’t quite decipher how many people were inhabiting this town; it seemed to dart between as little as six to as many as twelve, though most were little more than farmers and so to the Madsnake it hardly mattered in the long run. He saw a few familiar faces, those he had first seen in the gathering earlier in the day, but he also noticed an increased presence of militia, or whatever the were supposed to be, wandering around the town. Some were taking up residence around the well, while others simply patrolled the route towards their designated hotzone, the Otriad Monetary Outpost. That’s where Orton would go. An immediate thud to the back of his head shook all thoughts out of his mind, as he stumbled a few feet forward, his brain suddenly swept over by disgusting voices, turning around in an instant with a hiss that wasn’t all that common, before noticing Abigail standing there, shutting the door behind her and rubbing some sweat off of her face. She smiled as she looked at him, not noticing or ignoring that she’d hit him with her violent door opening. “Oh good, y’haven’t left yet. Listen, ya sounded all odd before, so I thought I’d come getcha, and maybe we can do something else. I wanna go out to the farms, see how ma is doing. If y’wanna, you can come along, might be good for you.” The Madsnake didn’t have much say in the matter, as she grabbed his arm and hurried off with him, walking between the dry goods store and unmarked small building, and out into the open fields of Otriad. A few deep lines had been drawn up, about twenty meters away from the fence that surrounded the town, and formed the basis and border of the town’s ‘thriving’ farmland. Most of it was just neatly laid out dirt, with the most notable feature having to be the irrigation system, that let water seep into the dirt from all around. Even then, there wasn’t much water to talk of, and the irrigation itself seemed to have been forgotten about, left to fall apart. Aside from a few brahmin, tracking a plough through the dirt behind them, the farm was a bust. Abigail looked around, and she was clearly broken by the sight. It was something she surely saw often, but it still seemed to have a great impact on her. She looked around at the three farmers working, and stopped when she saw her mother, on her hands and knees, with her back to Abigail and the Madsnake. Abigail tugged his arm, and the two of them stepped into the farms towards her mother, opening the rotting fences gate and letting it swing shut behind them. The dirt was as dry as one could ever have imagined, almost crunching underfoot, with much of the grass that had invaded from the borders as dead as the plants within. It was odd to see such an expansive farm, one that had become a source of income enough to pay for a squadron of personal guardians, in a state as hopeless as this one. The Madsnake felt Abigail’s grip weaken as they neared her mother, but he paid it little attention. “Mama? Y’alright out here?” The elderly woman, who looked well beyond three times Abigail’s age, smiled as she realised the voice had come from her daughter, turning to hug her young child close. The mother's hands were horrifically dirty, and her clothes were torn and mangled in ways that almost made it look like she was wearing something akin to bark. She didn’t take her eyes of Abigail, who was beaming as the Madsnake looked around the farm, watching the people work on the empty, dead fields. A hand yanking at his forced him to return his attention to the situation at hand, of which he had little interest. “Mama, I wanted to introduce you to my friend, Thomas. He’s a wanderer from the north, come down to visit our little town. Thomas, this is my mama.” “You can call me Withers, s’what all the solider boys use.” “Mama, hush. There’s no need for that. Call her Mama Abi; I was named after her by my papa. Long story short, he expected to go north with me, but… Well, he didn’t come back when he went to scout the roads. So now, this little village is home to two Abigail’s.” The Madsnake contemplated questioning all of that quite a bit, but changed his mind. He wasn’t as interested as he was inquisitive when it came to this town and it’s bizarrely despised soldiers. He wanted to investigate the matter but it wasn’t worth his or anyone else’s time, and aside from his own personal wants right now, there was nothing that the Madsnake truly wanted to get involved in. As Abigail and her mother shared words for a few brief moments, the Madsnake returned to his gaze, watching as one of the farmers hurried the brahmin along, and another began to plant some new seeds. It looked like whatever they were planting was in small supply, as the farmer had the seeds simply held in the palm of a hand. As he got a more in-depth view of the farmland, he could see some small signs of life. Some sprouts were at least a foot tall and bore very small foods on them, while others signalled they were growing at least decently underground. It was strange to see so many failing, and a handful of plants succeeding. He wondered if it was common in farms for this sort of thing to happen, unsure as to how a town such as this could survive if it was. The murmuring behind him between Abigail and her mother seemed to stop, and they spoke normally again. The Madsnake wondered what the reasoning was but did nothing about it, instead panning his gaze over to the town of Otriad itself, watching as people mingled and wandered, and as gun-laden men and women began patrols around the farm and the riverbed. He watched two men lie down in the farms, lifting up small hatches to hide themselves in, giving away how they had caught him off-guard when he had first come into the town’s borders. He didn’t have the sharpest ears or keenest eyes, but he would have noticed a pair of goons cloaked in body armour if they were in front of him. He grumbled inaudible under his breath, trying to order this entire situation in his head. The fact was that very little of it made much sense, and even less of it made sense when he properly lined everything up. “Thomas, mama was wondering, if’n you’re thinking of goin’ down to the Oh-Em-Oh, you could pick her up some goods from the salvage yard across the way. She’s paid for it all, so all you’d gotta do is pick it up.” The Madsnake looked at Abigail and her mother, and simply nodded with a faux smile. He took that as confirmation he could leave, and so he did so, ensuring that he’d used the right time so as to not garner suspicions. He already had a bad time in this town as a stranger, so if he could get by as at least seeming trustworthy, he’d be in good fortunes. He didn’t do anything but look dead ahead, as he moved through the farm and over the fences, reemerging into Otriad with a goal. The ‘Oh-Em-Oh’ was that goal, and he wanted to scope the place out. Walking past that central well, the Madsnake didn’t notice a pair of armoured up soldiers leaning against it, their eyes fixed on his position. As he made his way towards the dirt road that led towards the outpost, he was flanked and stopped in his tracks; it was the same two men who had found him on the town's outskirts, with typically arrogant expressions across their faces. The burned man, who was the one he recognised most easily, as he’d barely seen the other during the initial confrontation. The burned man had a look of cunning in his eyes, as if this had all been some well thought out plan. “No can do, stranger. No one’s allowed near the Monetary Outpost without proper permit or pay. You gotta back down.” Fuck him! The Madsnake twitched, wrestling his own willpower to not attack these men there and then, but he overcame the urge and turned, returning to the residence of Abigail, as the guards chortled happily behind him. By the time he’d emerged a few minutes later, he had two pieces of medium hide in his hands. He handed them over to the guards without a word, and silently, as if questioning whether to do the right thing or not, the two of them stepped aside, accepting their tribute without issue. He didn’t like that he’d done it, but the Madsnake was too curious to turn aside this little detour from his daily routine. The road was simple, and nothing like the outpost. It’s size was one thing, but the sheer amount of armoured and armed soldiers was another. It could easily deter any sort of raider gang, and likely served as an incredible point to handle a siege judging by its construction and the large shutters over the windows. A few of the guards turned to look at the Madsnake as he approached, though none garnered anything from it. He came up to the door, and reached out, expecting to be swatted away. Without any trouble at all, he entered. The Otriad Monetary Outpost was like few other things in the wasteland. It was neat, orderly and organised, and it felt warm and almost welcoming. Aside from two burly men dressed in what could have passed for mint condition security armour, who both looked the Madsnake down as they assessed his threat level, the room could be considered quite cozy. To the left of the doorway, in a little nook, sat an elderly man behind his desk, reading what looked like some sort of newspaper, with the word ‘AUSTIN’ printed at the top. The Madsnake walked past him, down to the repurposed jail cell, looking at the trove of goods therein. He heard the sound of rapid movements, and spun to see both guards with their guns up at him, a pump-action shotgun and a hunting rifle, both with their fingers firmly on the triggers. “Woah woah woah, what’s going on? Put them away!” The Madsnake watched the two men lower their weapons, as the elderly gentleman behind the desk came out, looking at the Madsnake and frowning, stopping in his tracks. “So… You’re the new guy.” |
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Daniel Orton [HC] Lvl 6: Copperhead Cook Rep: -40 Eastern Texas, -250 Texas Rangers, +90 Crag Equipped: Mirrored Sunglasses, Armstrong Hellcat Necklace, Raider Armour, Culture-Clash Jacket, Crag Swag (Jeans), Black Banana Hammock, Leather Belt, Desert Boots, Skullfucker, Death Knell, Combat Knife, Sharp Hatchet, Hannibals Haymaker, Pre-War Mountain Bike Status Effects: Internal Parasite Abilities: Sucker Punch S:6 P:3 E:5 C:5 I:3 A:10 L:8 Elizabeth 'Eli' Stoudemire Lvl 1: Humble Hobo Equipped: Knife, Revolver, Coat S:3 P:8 E:4 C:6 I:4 A:8 L:7 CP: FS has a bachelors degree in poor taste and a masters in bad manners LD: Orton can be whatever Hamiltons version of The Nightman is FP: fs youre like in a very minor minority where cauze youre autistic and gay and an asshole you can say any slur | |
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| FallenSanity | Oct 13 2016, 02:34 AM Post #5 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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“I was told about you. Some no-gooder from the north, so I heard. Waco, was it? I don’t believe that for any sort of second. I know what’s north, and none of it’s good for this here town. You’re either from The Pen, with those foolish Rangers, or you’re from the Crag, and just another selfish raider eager to break it in big down here. Either case, I don’t like you.” The Madsnake looked at the proprietor of the establishment, grimacing a little at how very different he was to the rest of the town’s inhabitants. He spoke with a more formal, perhaps organised Southern accent, one not brimming with the guffaws and cliches of the rest of the town. Along with that, he sported a pinstripe suit, a bowler hat, and a face so clean-cut it almost made his already slightly doubling chin look even more preposterous in a world where starvation killed as many people as gunfights. He seemed like precisely the person the Madsnake wanted to see, and he’d already made a fitting first impression. “You do not have to like me. I paid for my entry into this outpost. This place is as welcome to me as any other, and I will do my best to keep it that way. My name is Thomas.” The Madsnake held a hand out to shake, propositioning the owner of the Otriad Monetary Outpost to do the same. There was a moment’s pause as the just barely shorter man questioned if he should, looking over his shoulder briefly at his guards before reaching out and gripping the Madsnake’s hand. The two of them shook, with the Madsnake making sure to assert a level of dominance in the process, something his host wasn’t all too happy about. “Edward Shanks, Proprietor and Owner of the Otriad Monetary Outpost, and between the four of us, unofficial mayor of Otriad. Listen here stranger, you’re just that - a stranger. Nobody here has faith and trust anymore, the town is falling apart at the seams. We need a uniting force, and that force has come to be me, and ahah, my boys.” A cough came from one of the guards at the door, to which Shanks quickly waved his hand. “Yes yes, boys and girls. Lord. Now, listen to me, stranger. You’re an unknown entity, a possible threat, and that’s more than I can ask for around here. I don’t like you, I was open about that earlier. I’d be none changed to hear you were found dead in the riverbed, or perhaps dragged into my humble establishment for an execution. For that reason, I would advise you to watch your steps around here. The people are nervous and looking for anyone to martyr, as you no doubt saw from our good friend, mister Marcus. Don’t make yourself a target and don’t be a fool, Thomas. If I were you, I’d do my business, and make my way out of this town as soon as possible, understand?” The Madsnake found it odd that he’d say something like this. While the town seemed to be most certainly be on edge, it didn’t seem at face value to be such a problem as to make these sort of speeches to a man who had only arrived less than twenty-four hours ago. The Madsnake had to wonder now just how many issues the town had; aggression, concealment, and anarchy seemed to dominate the small town of Otriad, and it didn’t come off as the most effective mixture in the wasteland. In all seriousness, it seemed that should a large raider or bandit force present itself, the town would simply collapse around itself; the outpost would shut everyone out, and the others would flee without a second thought. Why anyone lived here was beyond the Madsnake at this point. “I do understand, Mister Shanks. Believe me, as soon as my business is done, I will make my leave from this town.” Shanks looked at the guards behind him again. He did it often, checking that they were there, paying attention. He seemed to feel constantly at threat, though it was something the Madsnake didn’t do too well to notice. He looked back at the stranger in front of him and nodded happily, pleased to know there was some degree of agreement. “Good, good. Stranger, Thomas, whatever you prefer to go by, this town is a mess like no other. You’ll be doing a mighty wise thing leaving this place to rot in its foundations. Do me a favour, how about you just forget this place ever existed, hm? On the way out, might even be a boy waiting for you with a… a little surprise, man to man. A farewell gift, if you will. Now hurry along, don’t wanna sick my boys on you, eh?” “I do not want that. Thank you for the advice Mister Shanks, I’ll-” “It’s not advice, Thomas. It’s a threat and a promise. Leave this town as soon as you’re done here.” There was a silence in the room. At the door, the two guards gently adjusted their holds on their weapons, clearly staring at the Madsnake through their helmets tinted visors. His eyes were darting between them and Shanks, with the former bearing a cold set of ironclad eyes, not willing to let up even an ounce of emotion. The Madsnake nodded, and with that, decided it was time to leave. He walked past Edward, and the two guards opened the doors wide for him, before slamming them shut behind. The Madsnake thought for some time on that little confrontation. The soldiers within the outpost had been drastically more well equipped than those wandering the town, and it made him wonder if there were possibly others out around the town, perhaps hidden from view, waiting for someone willing to attempt to fight the town and its protectors. He was thankful he’d composed himself when he first came to the town now, and equally glad he had a legitimacy shield like Abigail to hide him from the concerns of much of the town and its wardens. The Madsnake wandered down the dirt path and back to that of the concrete, before looking around, questioning just where the towns salvage yard would be. For something as big as that - a salvage yard - it certainly seemed elusive. He made his way to the main road, looking up and down both ways. To the east, only ruin and overgrowth could be seen. He spotted a few ruined cars, but nothing beyond that. To the west, a sizable wall could be seen just down the way, with barbed wire set up over the top of it, and all manner of plantlife leaking in through cracks and over the flat beige surface. Judging by a sign over the presumed doorway, the location was at least relevant. The Madsnake headed down that way, feeling the tarmac back under his feet, as he headed west towards this unknown locale. The closer he grew the more and more certain he was this was the salvage yard, seeing the roofs of small warehouses and sheds jutting up from behind the walls, while spotting old vehicles and machinery through the few patched up holes in the enclosures of the yard. Once the Madsnake made it to the front of the yard, he was let down. The sign simply read some illegible faded words, likely the name of the original owner of the yard itself. Even still, it was a salvage yard, and that’s all he’d been told to head to. He made his way in, walking past ruined bikes and cars and all sorts of other scrap, through barely distinguishable alleys that swerved and curved through towers of machinery and ruins. Initially he was trying to get towards the resident sheds, before realising that almost all of them were barred off, while the others were collapsing in on themselves. It soon felt like the entire endeavour was pointless. “Oye! Manos arriba! Come on gringo!” The Madsnake spun without even a second thought, grabbing the neck of the man who had leapt out of the scrap behind him and carrying him overhead before slamming him down onto the hood of a rusted out car. The assailants details caught the Madsnake off-guard as he took the time to take it all in; a small Latino with an afro almost as big as his head, dressed in some old clothes with a torn mariachi vest over the top. The afro-laden attacker pushed the Madsnake back with the monkey wrench gripped in his hands, panting as he clambered off of the car, still eager to fight. The Madsnake was surprised and confused at the same time, wondering if this was some fiend who had tracked him when he left Otriad Proper, or if it was possibly the owner of the salvage yard. “Get out of my home, pendejo! You aint wanted here!” “Calm down. I am here under request of Abigail. I am not a waster nor raider of the abyss, come to plunder your home. I am merely a middle-man.” The Latino was confused for a moment, probably thrown off by the Madsnake’s choice of words. He hesitated, lowering the monkey wrench and looking over the Madsnake’s shoulder, noticing that he was alone. “... Abigail the young one, or Abigail the old one?” “The old one.” The Latino stayed still for a few seconds, before relaxing and standing up straight, tucking the wrench into a holder on his belt, smiling at the stranger before him. It seemed that Abigail was all that had been needed to turn the situation in his favour. There were a few moments of awkwardness as the Latino cleaned himself off, finally walking up to the Madsnake and holding a hand out to shake. “Hola, gringo. I’m Gasman Eddy, the ‘proprietor of this here establishment,’ eh?” Eddy had tried to mimic Edward Shanks, seemingly to make a good impression on the stranger, but it hadn’t worked too well. The Madsnake paid it no attention, mostly being confused by it. He held his hand out and feigned a smile. “I am Thomas. I was told there were goods to be picked up.” Eddy raised his brow, a cheeky smile spreading across his face. He nodded happily, letting go of the Madsnake’s hand and striking some sort of showy pose. He seemed very, very confident about all of this, and the Madsnake started to think he was missing something. “Follow me.” |
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Daniel Orton [HC] Lvl 6: Copperhead Cook Rep: -40 Eastern Texas, -250 Texas Rangers, +90 Crag Equipped: Mirrored Sunglasses, Armstrong Hellcat Necklace, Raider Armour, Culture-Clash Jacket, Crag Swag (Jeans), Black Banana Hammock, Leather Belt, Desert Boots, Skullfucker, Death Knell, Combat Knife, Sharp Hatchet, Hannibals Haymaker, Pre-War Mountain Bike Status Effects: Internal Parasite Abilities: Sucker Punch S:6 P:3 E:5 C:5 I:3 A:10 L:8 Elizabeth 'Eli' Stoudemire Lvl 1: Humble Hobo Equipped: Knife, Revolver, Coat S:3 P:8 E:4 C:6 I:4 A:8 L:7 CP: FS has a bachelors degree in poor taste and a masters in bad manners LD: Orton can be whatever Hamiltons version of The Nightman is FP: fs youre like in a very minor minority where cauze youre autistic and gay and an asshole you can say any slur | |
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| FallenSanity | Oct 14 2016, 04:00 AM Post #6 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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Walking through the scrapyard, even with a guide, was a dangerous and daunting task. The small Latino found the whole thing easy to navigate, aided by his size no doubt, but the Madsnake had far more trouble. His broader figure and greater height meant he had to duck often, and contort himself to fit through holes or other entrances that Eddy likely constructed himself to dissuade people precisely like the Madsnake. It was funny how this whole town situation had turned out really. Through the smallest acts, even this nervous fellow was welcoming the Madsnake through and deep into his den. “Ey don’t touch that, man!” The Madsnake froze, his hands out by his sides and away from any surfaces, checking to make sure he hadn’t stepped on something. Eddy rushed over and swatted the Madsnake’s right hand forward, away from a dusty covered vehicle a few inches away from it. Gasman checked on it, seemingly patting it down and giving it a kiss, before walking ahead again. “Thas’ a Boudica-78/S, homes! One of tha finest motorbikes you’ll ever see! Personal project too, rebuilding that little chula. I wanna be able to ride it all tha way down to Ciudad de México, and open up a chop shop. Thas’ the dream, but dreams die hard, ey desconocido?” The Madsnake didn’t do much more than nod, as Eddy led him further into the salvage yard, past cars, bikes, and even a few buses and, most shockingly, a pair of old train head cars, rusted but still as big and domineering as ever, their 6-8-4 whyte notation and gargantuan size making up for a pair of missing cow catchers and a mostly falling apart hull. The Madsnake wondered if the little Latino was any good at repairs, and if he’d ever considered hauling these off in working order for some impressive reputation with resident caravans or raiders. That thought was immediately thrown out when he came into a small, scantily filled opening, with a single metal sign with the words ‘HOSTILES WILL BE SHOT’ painted on it. Around the clearing, numerous bodies, skeletons, and miscellaneous chunks of gore could be seen spread out, some pinned to the scrap piles with girders and spikes and others left to rot on the ground. One body, who was lacking in a head, dangled from an overhanging car by his legs, the makeshift armour and burnt skin giving away his and all the others obvious connections - raiders, bandits and fiends the lot of them, put down, seemingly, by Eddy all on his own. For perhaps the first time, the Madsnake felt properly threatened in this town by someone other than foreign guardians. Bite him! He didn’t spend too long looking at the bodies, but he did spend enough time to see obvious wounds. A number of bullet wounds had perforated most of the raiders torsos, with some bearing laser burns around their arms and legs as well. When he looked around the strange clearing, he could see, hidden among the scrap, deactivated old turrets sitting on their sides or even upside down, their guns rusted and burned apart in some places, but clearly more than capable of punishing any intruders onto Gasman Eddy’s lovely little home. As the two of them left the clearing, the Madsnake felt his heartbeat increase, increasingly more and more concerned with just what this small, clearly anxious tinkerer was capable of. For all he knew he was about to get into a fight with an army of robots. It’s hard for a cannibal who specialises in brutalising people to come out on top in that sort of situation. Break him! “Ey, don’t freak out about that stuff back there, man. I know it looks like the got pepper sprayed by an ammunition box, but they just fell into some primo traps I set up. A few cut throats, some bashed skulls, and I got a handful of perfect little props to decorate my ‘chingate’ room, ey? Nah c’mon desconocido, you aint seen nothing yet.” The Madsnake kept a close foot behind Eddy’s heel, not wanting to taper off or become lost in this winding maze of scrap and old relics. He couldn’t tell what he’d seen before and what was new, and it was becoming increasingly more confusing and painful. The voices, the ones that so often taunted him into violence, did so and then some as he wandered through the blindingly confounded maze, only guided by the small Latino in front of him and the few signs of modification and safe passage. “My garage is just in here man, once we’re in we can sit down and talk proper, bueno?” The Madsnake nodded again when Eddy turned to look at him, and the two of them ducked through a surprisingly small crawl space that the Madsnake only realised was the inside of a ruined car as he emerged, coming out into a one-by-three area, with Eddy already standing in the middle of a doorway, the metal door itself held open for the Madsnake to enter. There was a stillness, and finally he stepped over the threshold and into Eddy’s exteriorly small shed. From the inside, it was a noticeable change of expectations. For one, it had power, and a true surplus of it. Even back in Otriad Proper, only a few key items were powered; lights, radios, and whatever else was necessary for survival. Here, the Madsnake could see a few terminals, numerous lights set up on the ceiling, and just as he’d seen before, a pair of turrets, though these ones were working, unlike the others. They focused on him for a moment, before returning to their duty of sweeping the room. The Madsnake looked around, noticing a television, also powered despite displaying nothing but static, and grimaced as he heard the crackled sounds of whatever it was coming in over the radio. Eddy leapt over his small couch to turn it off, groaning to himself. “Thas’ a signal from Austin. Don’t know what it’s meant to be, gets cut out by sandstorms most times, but hey it’s something! More than most places can say for themselves, especially down south. No point in me heading down to mother México without some confirmation that there’s some life down there, know what I mean? Ey you probably do. Okay, so listen, this is technically what old lady Abigail asked for, some new bulbs and some basic tools I patched up, yeah.” Eddy handed over a small parcel of goods, clinking together as the Madsnake looked in, and tucked them into his pants rope belt. Before he had any time to leave though, he was met with a look and some motions from Eddy which drew his attention back, making it clear that wasn’t all that was to be dealt with. “Thing is, Abigail wouldn’t send someone, especially not some extraña gringo like you, if you didn’t have a purpose to her. I don’ wanna ask how you got involved with all of this - this town’s a fucking heap for all I care these days - but now, you’re involved, and there’s not a whole bunch could be done to get you out, I’m guessing. If you wanna dig deep, you can come with me and we can have a little chat about the potential you pose here. If not, I’ll lead you out, no questions asked, ey? ‘S up to you homes.” There was pause in the Madsnakes mind as he pondered his options. The fact was that he could leave if he so chose to, wandering away and out of the town after he got these back to Abigail. That much he been promised by Shanks. However, he would leave hungry, poorer, and perhaps less rich for the experience. It didn’t seem like a sound investment to him, and it certainly didn’t seem to benefit him at this point. Even if he was to act now and kill Eddy and take whatever goods he could, he’d not be able to navigate his way out of here before people grew suspicious. The Madsnake looked to Eddy, and frowned cautiously. “I am willing to hear you out.” Eddy clapped happily, laughing with a wheeze before rushing over to grab a set of keys from an old refurbished desk. He gave the Madsnake a pat on the back and walked over to one side of the shed, with thick steel sheeting. At first the Madsnake was confused before the well-hidden doors slid wide open, and Eddy led him out into a long, disguised hallway. It led down a straight line, directly into an even smaller metal shed, this one constructed out of corrugated iron, with mesh over the top. Eddy unlocked it with the second key, and stood aside to let the Madsnake in. “Why would I want to go in there?” “In there? Gringo, this is the most secure and secret location in Otriad. Ignore what those mercenary fucks say about Shanks and his little outpost, nobody but the best know about this place. What, you got something to be scared for? I’m like, a foot and a half shorter than you, dog, and I see the way you move, you got swift feet man. You really think I could take you in a freakin’ hotbox?” The Madsnake didn’t know what to think. A knife in the ribs could put him down, or even just a pocket gun. He was going to have to trust Eddy for now, even if he didn’t like the idea of it. Very gingerly, and very cautiously, he made his way into the small shed, or what Eddy had called the ‘hotbox’ and slid into the back of it, feeling the heat immediately wash over him. He let out a low groan, as Gasman Eddy followed, and the door was shut, immediately killing all light. A single flicker of flame filled the room, and Eddy’s eyes met the Madsnakes, as he lit up one of the blunts he kept in here. “Alright amigo. Let’s do this thing.” |
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Daniel Orton [HC] Lvl 6: Copperhead Cook Rep: -40 Eastern Texas, -250 Texas Rangers, +90 Crag Equipped: Mirrored Sunglasses, Armstrong Hellcat Necklace, Raider Armour, Culture-Clash Jacket, Crag Swag (Jeans), Black Banana Hammock, Leather Belt, Desert Boots, Skullfucker, Death Knell, Combat Knife, Sharp Hatchet, Hannibals Haymaker, Pre-War Mountain Bike Status Effects: Internal Parasite Abilities: Sucker Punch S:6 P:3 E:5 C:5 I:3 A:10 L:8 Elizabeth 'Eli' Stoudemire Lvl 1: Humble Hobo Equipped: Knife, Revolver, Coat S:3 P:8 E:4 C:6 I:4 A:8 L:7 CP: FS has a bachelors degree in poor taste and a masters in bad manners LD: Orton can be whatever Hamiltons version of The Nightman is FP: fs youre like in a very minor minority where cauze youre autistic and gay and an asshole you can say any slur | |
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| FallenSanity | Oct 15 2016, 02:15 AM Post #7 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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The Madsnake couldn’t deny he was feeling a little bit uncomfortable. He was well over a foot taller than Eddy, and he was far broader and more covered in mass and muscle, and it made this small metal chamber into something of a punishment for him, especially while being packed in with Eddy. The room itself was only around two-by-two meters, and it meant his shoulders, elbows, or some other part of his body was consistently in contact with the walls or the only other person in the area. The Madsnake groaned, finally folding his arms and settling into a corner, accepting that as his spot of choice. Break it! The Madsnake didn’t like the smell of whatever Eddy was smoking. It was a pungent smell of oily herbs, and it was something that caught the Madsnake off-guard. He was used to the sharp, tasteless sensation of cigarettes and cigars, and they set him off down a feeling of disdain just as much, but this sensation was new and it shocked him, and he wasn’t sure how well he could handle it. He took slow, deep breaths, trying to make use of the ‘fresh’ air that settled at the bottom of the room, away from the growing cloud above him. Eddy took a final puff, sighing happily and grinning, looking at the Madsnake as he leant around the room. “Alright homes, you got sent to me by old lady Abigail, and thas’ already enough for me. Thomas, this town has more going for it than you might think, see? Shanks and his babosa soldier-boys, they don’t wanna do anything more than run this place into the ground, ey? They’re bad folk, man. We gonna put an end to them, and having a desconcido like you around could have given us the opportunity we need.” Gasman Eddy lifted up his hand, and took another sudden and long toke from whatever sort of cigarette or joint he was holding before blowing it up in the air, filling the room with a thickening cloud of smoke that just made the Madsnake more and more uncomfortable. He clenched his fists, grumbling and trying to calm himself as the smell swept over his senses. He scrunched up his face, brushing his nose and trying to overcome the strange and antagonising feelings that kept appearing. Eddy was different. He seemed so calm, so relaxed, as if he wasn’t even noticing the increasingly aggressive stranger in the tightly packed room with him. He was at ease, his mind swept clear and left empty by the euphoric sensations of his marijuana. He was so in touch with the sensation that he, in almost all occasions, was given in entirely to it and entirely of his own consent, surrendering to this feeling of pure ecstasy. He looked up at the Madsnake and smirked, offering his blunt over before it was immediately rejected. He shrugged, and took another long whiff before setting it down again, letting his mind run free. “Thomas, you’re someone Otriad needs. We don’t get gringos like you often, and the last time we did, Shanks made sure they were in his pocket. These el mercenario, they just want money, don’t care who pays them. Listen man, I don’t wanna say no more ‘till I know you’re in with us. You with us properly, if you’re willing to help, then we can divulge everything. You good with us homes?” The Madsnake nodded again, getting agitated now. His senses were playing tricks on him, and he could feel the voices roaring in his ears but he couldn’t tell what they were saying. He felt uncomfortable and tense, yet more free of mind and of thought than perhaps ever before in his life. It confused him and despite the fact that he would never admit to it, it scared him to feel this way. He nodded a second time, and Eddy laughed for a few moments, before smoking again. The Madsnake watched the fumes extend upwards and swirl around the rooms ceiling, the cloud spreading down and out around the room, like the softest sand caught in the most loving wind. “Listen, Thom, man. Shanks has got to go. He was choking this town out long before he got these guns on his side, and now he’s turning it into his private farmland. He doesn’t own shit here, he can’t do that. This is land owned by the people, and he just comes back from, I dunno, Austin or something, and he decides he can run this place? That pendejo needs to be buried.” The Madsnake twitched a little as he felt his brain stretching in ways he’d never experienced. He didn’t understand what it was, and he was worried that Eddy was trying to sober him up in a horrid way, to outsmart him or trick him into a false sense of security. The Madsnake tried to speak to the voices, but he couldn’t hear anything. He felt something strange wash over him, and he couldn’t grasp the idea of what was going on. “This whole town is together on this. It’s not some chorra conspiracy, this isn’t the town aligning to bring down the monarchy or some shit, we’re getting our home back. This is the appropriate response, man. Hoctor and old lady Abigail are two of the leaders of this whole thing, and we’re all talkin what we’re gonna do him, and we’re conflicted. All we know is we need a middleman, and that’s gotta be you man. Personally I don’t care how you do it, bullet in the back of his head or like, talk him out, I dunno, we just need him gone. If you can do that man, I don’t care what you do, so long as it gets done. You’ll get a home here, you’ll be welcomed, man, it’ll be the best thing that you ever did, and that’s a promise.” The Madsnake looked at him with a feeling of confusion and agitation still wringing his mind, and he was on the cusp of breaking down. His mind was shaking, and he was barely able to take in any of the information being presented. He nodded though, and Eddy smiled happy, blowing some more smoke out over the Madsnake’s head. He looked at Eddy, feeling as if he would gut the man if they spent any more time in here. He shuddered, breathing coolly, feeling again those annoying sensations of emptiness and ease in his mind. He couldn’t understand anything that was going on, and that more than anything else was what was driving him over the edge. “If you gotta ask me amigo, I’d talk to the mercs captain. Dunno where she finds herself anymore, used to be out front the outpost but I’m pretty sure Shanks moved her to a more secure location or something. If you get her in your pocket, you got the whole situation in your favour.” The Madsnake nodded again, just trying to get by. He held his hand out, silencing Eddy. He tried to think, tried to organise his thoughts slowly as he attempted to recompose everything in his mind. There was a coldness, an emptiness that didn’t make sense, and he had to stop it. “Alright. I am agreed. Can we get out of here?” “Oh, yeah sure thing man, no problem.” Eddy turned around, unlocking the hotbox and walking out, letting a wave of smoke follow him behind. The Madsnake stepped out and felt the cooler air of the hot desert meet his face, letting out a gasp and a breath as he enjoyed what little he could get in the makeshift hallway. As Eddy lead him out of the salvage yard he felt his mind circling, as if the shock had done more damage than good, and he lost his footing time and time again as he stumbled and bumbled through the scrap and mess. Finally, Eddy gave the Madsnake a pat on the back, and he looked up to realise he was out of the yard, standing on the concrete road. He turned around to look at the small, well-haired Latino, who was smiling with a grin as happy as the Madsnake had ever seen. “I’m happy to hear you’re on our side, homes. It’s always good to know wasters out here still understand right from wrong, even if it has to be sort of forced on them, ey?” The Madsnake didn’t nod, instead looking around the area. The trees seemed closer than before, and the sky seemed darker. Clouds or night, he couldn’t tell, but it made him feel a little more settled. He wondered just how long he’d spent in that hotbox, as Eddy cleared his throat and tried for another response. “Listen man, you’re always welcome at my salvage yard any time, man, and you’ll get a discount on anything you need. Shoot man, if you take out Shanks, you’ll get shit for free. I’ll give you the Boudica, thas’ a promise. Ey?” The Madsnake felt the piece of his mind click together, when he heard the name. It felt important. He looked at Eddy for a moment, and then put up a fake smile, nodding at him in agreement. There was a silence, but the two shared a moment of what Eddy thought was true happiness, content in the idea that they would both be doing good. He didn’t know what the Madsnake’s desires were, and at this point neither did the Madsnake, but everything felt like it was clicking together. They shook hands, and the stranger from the north set off back up the road, towards Otriad Proper, to rest up and then finally set in motion the acts that would redeem the town. The Madsnake saw movements in the treeline as he walked. Little shamblings in the bushes, leaves falling from healthy branches, the sounds of whispering and static that he didn’t recognise. The static, that was new, and it was so loud. It grew louder and louder, and he was almost brought to his knees by it. He looked around, shaking, clenching his fists, looking up at Otriad and seeing the young Abigail standing there, looking at him and waiting for him. We’re back Daniel; did you miss us? |
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Daniel Orton [HC] Lvl 6: Copperhead Cook Rep: -40 Eastern Texas, -250 Texas Rangers, +90 Crag Equipped: Mirrored Sunglasses, Armstrong Hellcat Necklace, Raider Armour, Culture-Clash Jacket, Crag Swag (Jeans), Black Banana Hammock, Leather Belt, Desert Boots, Skullfucker, Death Knell, Combat Knife, Sharp Hatchet, Hannibals Haymaker, Pre-War Mountain Bike Status Effects: Internal Parasite Abilities: Sucker Punch S:6 P:3 E:5 C:5 I:3 A:10 L:8 Elizabeth 'Eli' Stoudemire Lvl 1: Humble Hobo Equipped: Knife, Revolver, Coat S:3 P:8 E:4 C:6 I:4 A:8 L:7 CP: FS has a bachelors degree in poor taste and a masters in bad manners LD: Orton can be whatever Hamiltons version of The Nightman is FP: fs youre like in a very minor minority where cauze youre autistic and gay and an asshole you can say any slur | |
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| FallenSanity | Oct 16 2016, 01:06 AM Post #8 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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Where’ve you been, Daniel? Trying to hide from us? Pathetic bitch! You know we’re smarter than that, don’t you? You can’t just hide from us so easily, you know that right? You can’t escape this, didn’t you say you didn’t want to escape? Dumb cunt! Worthless pussy! You wanna just give up on this? The Madsnake looked to Abigail, who was clearly happy to see him. She ran over, and gave him a tight hug before yanking the small linen sack from his belt strap, looking in it and smiling. The Madsnake had forgotten he’d even grabbed it. He rubbed his head, gritting his teeth for a moment as he tried to zone in on Abigail’s words. “... with Eddy go well, I hope?” He looked at her, a bit confused, smiling and shaking his head. He went to speak but found himself coughing immediately, beating his chest as he felt a smoky sensation in his throat and mouth, almost pushing him to throw up. He took some time, ignoring Abigail’s look of distress, to recompose himself and gather his thoughts and his footing. Whatever had been going on in that hotbox, whether it was some sort of mystical speaking from Gasman Eddy or something to do with the smoke, or even just the heat getting to him, it had beaten the Madsnake in a way that nothing else ever had, and he despised it. “Aw shoot, did Eddy take you to his hotbox? That fool is gonna get some wanderin’ boy killed doing that, ‘specially in this weather. Y’alright?” The Madsnake nodded, breathing slowly as Abigail promptly handed to him his own water bottle, that she had filled while he was away. He took a drink and let out a loud breath of air as his lungs swelled with the fresh feeling given to them. The water had washed away so much of the muck that he felt properly fit again, and stood to his feet, his mind rolling back into position. “I am fine, Abigail… Thank you for your help. Eddy was an interesting man, but I think he has done all that your mother intended for him to do. I suspect you were involved in that as well.” Abigail smirked, looking at him and nodding, hugging his arm before noticing a few of the mercenaries wandering around the dark town. The Madsnake saw them as well, and the two of them returned to her home before darkness properly fell over the town. By the time they were at the door, the Madsnake could see some light protruding from the cracks in bricks and wooden planks, and though he was confused, Abigail did not seem to show any degree of concern. He wondered if she was merely an overconfident person, or if perhaps something was going on that he didn’t know about. Meeting with Shanks, Abigail’s mother, and Eddy has made the Madsnake realise this town was less transparent than one would expect, and he was cautious of everything now. Luckily for him, his cautions were misplaced. Standing in the kitchen, making what looked like a simple broth, stood Abigail’s mother, unveiled now to be the person sharing the home with Abigail. The two of them were close, and it said a lot that the youngest person in the town showed no qualm with staying with her far older mother. The two of them hugged happily in the kitchen, and the Madsnake was ushered over to sit down. He did so, and he was fortunate enough to have the dinner choice of the night poured out for him; a simple looking corn broth. “How did your meetin’ with Eddy fair, Thomas? Hopefully on the right side of good?” The Madsnake looked up at old lady Abigail, who was pouring out her daughters and her own food while speaking. He nodded, grabbing a spoon and trying some of the broth and enjoying the surprisingly sweet taste. The Madsnake spent some time drinking, as both Abigails waited for a response. Finally he laid down his spoon, crossing his hands over the bowl and trying to think of what to say to properly convey just what had done on when he met Eddy. Technically speaking it hadn’t been a fine meeting, but from memory, it had gone well. “The salvage yard proved to be a worthwhile detour. I intend to eat and gather myself tonight, before setting in motion everything Eddy and I spoke about. He is a… jarring personality, but I think he and I made headway during our brief… seemingly brief encounter. Abigail, I want to speak to you and Hoctor tomorrow, if possible. If not I understand.” The elderly farmer gave a curt nod, trying to hide the smug smile on her face. Though it had been her daughter to bring him into the fold of the town, it was she who thought the Madsnake could form a proper spearhead to this revolution or uprising, and she was happy to see that things had fallen into place so well. Within the day, it seemed as if there was again a degree of hope in Otriad. The Madsnake drank his broth slowly, as the younger Abigail looked at him with a warm-hearted smile that he failed to notice. The Madsnake didn’t think much on his actions. In most cases he would operate before analysing a situation, and he was only fortunate to not suffer in that regard as often as others would. This meant that he didn’t tend to do things because it was what was best for society or even what he was being paid or told to do. Instead, he did things based on what at the time seemed most beneficial for him. At this point in time, aligning with this miniature rebellion of farmers and civilians was giving him shelter, free food, and a degree of physical pleasure to boot. There was little reason to oppose their offers, and so he kept on doing what made the most sense, even if it was for now only going to be a short lived affair. Once the three of them were finished, there were a few menial goodnights as old lady Abigail went to her own room, and the Madsnake and the younger Abigail went to theirs. Laying in the bed proved to give the Madsnake a sudden reminder of just how much he was going through. Laying down and gazing into the darkness of the room, he felt his demons rising up and curling around the periphery of his mind. He felt the touch of Abigail’s skin, the warmth of her flesh, he looked over to her sleeping form and moved slowly, his hands gliding over her tanned skin, up her arms and hesitating at her shoulders. There wouldn’t be a noise if he broke her neck in the bed right now. He rolled away, standing up and pulling his clothes back on, before speeding out of the door and the house and back out into Otriad. He stopped as a few shady figures turned to look at him, mercenaries gathered around the well and the stores, guarding the town center and preparing for a worst case scenario as they polished weapons and refitted armour. A few civilians wandered around too, but no one looked at him for too long. The Madsnake knew he was still a bit of a polarising figure to the locals here. He moved away, heading to the concrete road to go for a short walk to clear his mind. The truth was that he was hungry. Hungrier than he had been in a long time. He hadn’t eaten anything human since he left his makeshift home, and it meant practically starved. After meeting Eddy and being subjct to the strange substance of the hotbox, the Madsnake had felt as if he was on edge, the lack of sound in his head and the hunger in his stomach confusing him to feel as if he had to take matters into his own hands. More often than not he didn’t, and the fact was that he had eaten enough lately to get him by. Whatever reason he had for this craving didn’t make sense, at least not to him, and he wanted to make sure it didn’t get the better of him, especially not a point such as this. The Madsnake came to a slow as the riverbed ran by the side of the road, curving to meet it. He looked down and followed the mudcracks that lined the bottom layer of the winding dried up stream, before his eyes were caught by a light to his left. Looking up the incline of the hill, he recognised the small clearing in the midst of the trees, and grimaced to think that the junkies had set up residence there. In less of a hurry and more of a march, the Madsnake made his way up to the small inhabited clearing, to find out where the light was coming from. “Thomas! It’s you!” A small fireplace had been set up right in the middle of the clearing, and around it the ring of junkies remained. Two used up canisters of Jet and a single empty Med-X syringe could be seen just by the side of the fire, and the Madsnake immediately realised just how heavily they were planning on rationing out their drugs. For a group of people likely forced to quell their addictions with single specimens a week, it was quite a surprise to see them so effectively managing what little supplies they had. The Madsnake rubbed his brow, aggrieved to see that his former cohorts were still bumming around right near the town he was residing. “How’re things going for you, Thomas? Otriad’s a nice town, yeah? It’s good to see you in there all settled… and stuff…” There was no point in talking to them. They were all well and truly in ecstasy at that point, and so he simply nodded to whomever was looking. They nodded back, gave a thumbs up, and drifted off into the abyss of their drug-induced haze. The Madsnake returned to the roadside, where he decided it was time to return home. As he walked, he could see a number of mercenaries turning their gaze, trying to not make it obvious that they had been watching him. One, far down the road near the Otriad Monetary Outpost, did not hesitate to stare him down. Goggles covered their eyes, a gas mask covered their mouth, and a massive flamethrower hung over the ground in their hands. He didn’t want to ponder why he’d caught their attention. |
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Daniel Orton [HC] Lvl 6: Copperhead Cook Rep: -40 Eastern Texas, -250 Texas Rangers, +90 Crag Equipped: Mirrored Sunglasses, Armstrong Hellcat Necklace, Raider Armour, Culture-Clash Jacket, Crag Swag (Jeans), Black Banana Hammock, Leather Belt, Desert Boots, Skullfucker, Death Knell, Combat Knife, Sharp Hatchet, Hannibals Haymaker, Pre-War Mountain Bike Status Effects: Internal Parasite Abilities: Sucker Punch S:6 P:3 E:5 C:5 I:3 A:10 L:8 Elizabeth 'Eli' Stoudemire Lvl 1: Humble Hobo Equipped: Knife, Revolver, Coat S:3 P:8 E:4 C:6 I:4 A:8 L:7 CP: FS has a bachelors degree in poor taste and a masters in bad manners LD: Orton can be whatever Hamiltons version of The Nightman is FP: fs youre like in a very minor minority where cauze youre autistic and gay and an asshole you can say any slur | |
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| FallenSanity | Oct 17 2016, 03:56 AM Post #9 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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The next day was different than the others. There was a feeling of stillness in the air, and as the Madsnake entered the town proper, leaving behind Abigail to her calm and much needed sleep, he could see why. People had gathered all throughout the town, and he could count nearly all of the town’s fourteen inhabitants among those standing around the well in the dead center. The early morning had been enough to bring out everyone, and keep away the mercenaries it seemed. The Madsnake walked into the welcoming party, ignoring some of the less-than-pleasant glances. At the well, Abigail, Marcus, Hoctor, and Eddy were standing. Abigail looked at the Madsnake with a wide smile across her withered face. He was being welcomed into this enclave of conspirators, and it made him wonder just how well planned out the whole thing was. Before he had a chance to ask, Marcus began to speak, silencing much of the crowd around them. “Alright. Vernon is on watch; he’ll walk by and head to Hoctor’s as soon as he sees any sign of the mercs or of Shanks. Until then, we have free reign to speak publically about somethin’ we’ve all had planned for a long time, but not had the chance to set into motion. Thanks’ to old lady Abigail, and her loving daughter, we might finally have a chance to unlatch Shanks from his little seat of power and toss him and his hired goons out on their asses once and for all. To any not aware, this is Thomas. He has offered to personally take Edward Shanks out of the picture.” There was a small patter of applause, with Abigail herself seeming the most pleased, clapping wildly at the mention of the Madsnake’s alias. He smiled, looking around, and feeling that some still weren’t entirely onboard with him. There was a silence, as eyes remained on him. Abigail leant over, whispering just loud enough that the others around the well could hear. “What’re you plannin’ sweetie?” The Madsnake nodded, realising what he needed to say. He straightened up, cleared his throat, and began to speak directly to Marcus and Hoctor, but indirectly to all those around him. “I understand that I am a new face among you. I have not been here long, and I will not stay long. I have been dragged into an issue that I would otherwise have avoided, however for being involved I am offered care and safety. That enough earns my… devotion.” He had hesitated, and it immediately caught a few people’s attention. Muttering broke out amongst them, as they questioned just how trustworthy and gracious of a hero a man can be if he can barely form a single rousing speech. “Edward Shanks is a spiteful man driven by greed. He controls this town through fear and fear alone with the aid of an army of mercenaries. These mercenaries are his most potent tool and his most distinct weakness; they are nothing more than mercenaries after all. I do not know what will be required specifically, but I intend to speak to the mercenary captain, and have them move on from Otriad. It has had its bounties plundered and its farms raped. Whatever little is offered to them by Edward Shanks is nothing compared to what others would pay, and I intend to make them aware of that. Once the mercenaries are out of the picture, I will –“ Marcus held a hand up, immediately silencing the Madsnake and all whispers and mutterings around him. Just down the road, a huge man with bulging arms came wandering in, and made his way to Hoctor’s Dry Goods. The crowd dispersed, and the Madsnake was ushered away with Abigail, Hoctor and Marcus, as Eddy made his return to the salvage yard. Not two minutes later, three mercenaries wandered into town and set up watch at the well, lazing in their comfort. The four of them entered the Dry Goods store, just behind Vernon, who shut the door quietly as he waited for the last of them to enter. Hoctor made his way to the back of the shop, while Marcus and Abigail fumed. The plan had clearly been to speak for much longer than that, but it had been immediately foiled by the sudden appearance of the mercenaries. Marcus threw an arm through the air, turning to look at Vernon, before the door was opened up and shut again. The medical woman who had tended to Marcus earlier had joined them, and she was perhaps madder than anyone else. “Vernon, what in the Hell!? Why are there three of those soldier boys in the center of town? It’s barely past sun up, there’s meant to be a river patrol!” Vernon shook his head, looking at the ground and sighing as he took a seat against the wooden wall of the Dry Goods store. He was the largest person in the town by about a foot and a half, though he only barely inched out some of the mercenaries. It was still quite a feat. “Patrol was nixed, Eliza. Shanks heard a gaggle o’ junkies were lingerin' roun' thuh town, an 'e gawt spooked, thinkin’ it some raider posse. 'e set uhp boys out front awf Eddy’s, in thuh farms, an by thuh well. Aint no way thair can be any mo-wr public tawk or such.” Eliza held back a scream, covering her face with her arms. The Madsnake couldn’t quite grasp why she was so affected by this, until Abigail pulled him just to the side and explained it to him. Though only a few short words, it all locked into place; Eliza was from a town not far away that had suffered an attack from a group of organised raiders. It was wiped out entirely, and when she came here she hoped to avoid combat at all costs. The fear of a fight breaking out between residents and the mercenaries is what pushes her to oust Shanks, and it’s why she is so critical of Marcus. “Thomas, listen. I know you wanna do this your way, but your way was never gonna work. T’aint about outsmarting Shanks, it’s about putting hi-“ “Marcus, shut up!” Eliza roared over Marcus as he tried to speak, and caught the attention of everyone in the room instantly. The middle-aged supposed leader of the insurrection against Shanks was instantly rebuffed, and backed away to give the chance to speak to Eliza, who took it without hesitation. “Thomas, you need to do exactly what you were saying. This town can’t afford some action-packed gunfight. Most people here don’t even own a gun, and I can’t treat bullet wounds. The mercenaries need to go. I’ll do whatever I can to help, just, please… Get rid of them.” The Madsnake nodded. Marcus wasn’t too happy, but he could see Vernon in the back nodding happily. Hoctor was grimacing as he set up his store, and Abigail seemed to be unsure of what the best option really was. The Madsnake simply stood by, watching the events before him unfold. This revolution, which had seemed like a good idea on paper some time ago, was no exposed for being as weak as it was, and it exposed an even deeper issue within Otriad as a whole. The lack of trust, the same thing Shanks had spoken to the Madsnake about, drove a wedge between people whether it was fitting or not, and it made everything so much more difficult. The Madsnake sat by as arguing took over the group. Soon even old lady Abigail was barking at them each, roaring about how the only relevant concept right now is ‘Thomas’ and him completing the job. The Madsnake didn’t like hearing that, and it became the final straw to his maintaining presence amidst the chaos. Without a word he left the Dry Goods store, and made his way to the Otriad Monetary Outpost. A total of six mercs filled the town square, and all were well fitted. The Madsnake glared back at those which glared at him, and snarled as one of them wandered into his path. Strangely, none came to bother him as he moved further ahead, his destinayion clear to any and all willing to look. Then, as if by tempting fate, a hand landed upon the Madsnakes shoulder, and a familiar voice rattled in his head. “You know how much trouble we got into after your little bribe yesterday?” Kill him! The Madsnake moved instinctively, grabbing the mercs arm and spinning him around before holding it up against the small of his back. A little more and the Madsnake could break his wrist, and more after that would break the mercs arm. He held back a warm breath on the mercenaries neck, as he restrained himself from putting the agitating young soldier down. Pushing the disgraced sentry down, the Madsnake ignored the guns pointed at him and moved on further down the road. The guards of the outposts front door flinched, but opened up wide for the Madsnake nonetheless. Sounds erupted through the door before being shut down as the Madsnake entered the room. Ten eyes turned to meet his, before the eyes of Edward Shanks hurried over to join in. He had called in two more guards to defend his outpost, and despite being a tactic to reinforce power, it made him look scared. It did however make it obvious that the proprietor of the Otriad Monetary Outpost was more concerned about something else than a pack of junkies. The madsnake met everyone's eyes, before settling on two golden-brown windows. Goggles were set upon her head, and a gas mask around her neck. She wore thick, well maintained armour, and her scars proved she was not one to mess with. The flamer backed that up more than could be articulated. That was the mercenary captain, and she was ready for the Madsnake. |
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Daniel Orton [HC] Lvl 6: Copperhead Cook Rep: -40 Eastern Texas, -250 Texas Rangers, +90 Crag Equipped: Mirrored Sunglasses, Armstrong Hellcat Necklace, Raider Armour, Culture-Clash Jacket, Crag Swag (Jeans), Black Banana Hammock, Leather Belt, Desert Boots, Skullfucker, Death Knell, Combat Knife, Sharp Hatchet, Hannibals Haymaker, Pre-War Mountain Bike Status Effects: Internal Parasite Abilities: Sucker Punch S:6 P:3 E:5 C:5 I:3 A:10 L:8 Elizabeth 'Eli' Stoudemire Lvl 1: Humble Hobo Equipped: Knife, Revolver, Coat S:3 P:8 E:4 C:6 I:4 A:8 L:7 CP: FS has a bachelors degree in poor taste and a masters in bad manners LD: Orton can be whatever Hamiltons version of The Nightman is FP: fs youre like in a very minor minority where cauze youre autistic and gay and an asshole you can say any slur | |
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| FallenSanity | Oct 18 2016, 03:01 AM Post #10 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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She had the look of a true veteran of warfare and wasteland. From the flesh of her face, which was all that could be seen, one could see a minimum of three scars; one across her right cheek, one just millimeters from her left eye which looked like a stab wound, and then a long gash just to the right that ran from below her nose all the way to her neck. That was what could be seen from a distance. Up close there were dozens of smaller, well healed scars, and one great massive burn mark that covered the upper lefthand side of her brow, stretching as far as her eye it seemed. She was grissled and worn and would not stop looking at the Madsnake. The lenses of her goggles were deep black, as was the rest of her outfit. It meant that the Madsnake was not prepared to see her eyes properly in the outpost, and was astonished by their colour. Most folk had dull eyes, and soldiers looked blinded by their affairs most times. This captain did not. The colour of jasper filled the stony orbs, with a clearer white than marble surrounding them and letting their colour burst in contrast. If she was anything but a warrior, she would be the spitting image of beauty itself, yet instead she was power and perfection, and she carried herself in a way that made those around her feel smaller, weaker, less than worthwhile. Shanks come off as a blip in her presence, and her own mercenaries barely registered. The simple merchant in the outpost was invisible for all intents and purposes. “My boy Thomas, here I was concerned that I was to be beset upon! I can thank my fortunes that you’ve so often occupied my fearin’s instead.” Edward Shanks spoke as if he had no qualm with the Madsnake, which was in itself strange considering the last time they had seen each other he had threatened the Madsnake and practically played a card of intimidation to force the Madsnake out of town. It wasn’t until after that it became obvious why the proprietor of the Otriad Monetary Outpost had said such a thing. “‘nother of your friends, Ed? Ah swear, yer never without gunners are ya? ‘spose he’s got somethin’ special goin’ on too?” As the Madsnake entered the outpost, he had drawn the attention of the lone merchant, who eyed him up and down intently, immediately drawing the ire of the temporary inhabitant of the town. Shanks either didn’t notice or didn’t care, and simply laughed from his gut. “Why o’course, Teeboh. Thomas here is my personal wreckin’ ball. In fact, he’ll be out later tonight to purge them there junkies on the border, isn’t that right?” The Madsnake nodded, looking for the first time away from the mercenary captain entirely. As the merchant and Shanks hurried away into the small nook that operated as an office, the Madsnake felt the barrel of a gun pressed up between his shoulder, and the tip of a knife between his legs. Stupid fuck! “You’re some hitman from Austin. It’s as clear on your face as it is in your voice. If you intend to kill Edward Shanks, then you need to go through me and my men.” “Or make you a better offer.” The captain pressed the blade of her knife into the Madsnakes right leg, and he took the opportunity. As she applied pressure he spun, catching her off guard and forcing her to recompose. She was outdone though when her knife was caught by the Madsnakes right leg as it came around, snatching it from her hand and sending it bouncing across the floor. The rest of the mercenaries took aim before Shanks yelled over the outpost. Trash her! “Now now, play nice you two! Pardon that Teeboh, this is what happens when hired arms cannot admit to the sexual tension.” The captain grimaced at the Madsnake, holding back a growl as he did the same, his deep breathing almost sounding like he was hissing at her. The mercenaries stood down, but the captain remained stalwart, chest pushed out and shoulders up as she opposed the Madsnake with all of her might. She was brave and she was smart, and she was a very real threat. “Was that a challenge to my integrity? Is that it, ‘Thomas’? You think I’ll accept a couple of satchels of cash and just hand over my current assignment? We don’t work that way. This is a legitimate security force. You pay us, we do our job to a T. Edward Shanks has our security until he relenquishes it. Simple as that.” Dumb whore Worthless bitch! The Madsnake grinned showing off his teeth, snarlimg just a little as the words came tmbling out of his mouth without any sort of filter on them. “You are as legitimate as raiders. Paid in stolen goods, abusing local inhabitants, and threatening unknown entities displays fear and weakness. You are not the legitimate heroes you so clearly wish yourself to be. How many other towns have you starved out of existence? How many money-laden barbarians have employed you to ruin towns such as these? You are no more than murderous whores, mercenaries who work as channels for chaos and discord, too absorbed in the self to witness the other and see it for what it is, a town of dying farmers and miserable workers. You are the security of the few and the plague of the many. Little more.” The captain was furious. Insult after insult, numerous blows against her organisation and a direct belittling of her integrity. It was all she could take. She swung at the Madsnake, who just barely managed to avoid the blow and retaliate, striking the mercenary captain directly in her gut. The Madsnake recoiled, his fist pulsating as he realised he had just punched a plate of body armour, and looked at the captain as her already furious expression grew moreso. He prepared to fight, before another yell carried through the outpost. “Thomas, Lisa, I advise both of you to halt these shenanigans at once! I swear you’ll be removed from this building on this spot if I hear another sound from either of you!” The Madsnake looked at the mercenary captain, Lisa, and smiled at her without a care in the world. She did not do the same, as she showed off her clenched fists and twitched uncontrollable. She was fighting the urge to punch him more than he could realise, and as he turned to leave, she stormed right past him and out of the building. The Madsnake wasn’t far behind leaving the outpost, and as he sauntered just a few feet out the front door, he felt a hard force collide with the back of his head. Ducking and rubbing his growing bruise, he saw Lisa, the mercenary captain, angrily restraining herself from any further violence. “I you ever give me even a single chance to tear you open, I’m not missing it. You’re just another scrub from the wastes as far as I’m concerned, and I don’t care what my paycheck says on it, I’ll burn you to a crisp.” With that she returned to the outpost, and the Madsnake was left to wander back into town. His initial plan was - quite clearly - not feasible at this point. The mercenaries weren’t going to back down with a bigger paycheck, and if there was a price that would get them to move, the town would surely not be able to afford it. He wondered how hard it would be to kill Shanks, and then wondered on many more things. Was Lisa their captain, or just a lackey of the real overboss? Were their separate rates for separate amounts of mercenaries? Were the mercenaries under Lisa in any way corrupt, accepting smaller sums to do their own jobs? It was a lot to consider. The Madsnake stopped by the well, ignoring the soldiers who were looking at him and gingerly walking away. He let out a low sigh, trying to think of what to do next. If he couldn’t get anything done, it felt like he would be flushed out of town at some point soon. He watched people wandering to their jobs, some heading to the farms and others out to collect scrap, and he tried to figure out what the best course of action was. As it turned out, two of the mercenaries had made it clear to him what to do not too long ago. The pieces clicked in his mind, and with that, he made his way to his next destination. |
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Daniel Orton [HC] Lvl 6: Copperhead Cook Rep: -40 Eastern Texas, -250 Texas Rangers, +90 Crag Equipped: Mirrored Sunglasses, Armstrong Hellcat Necklace, Raider Armour, Culture-Clash Jacket, Crag Swag (Jeans), Black Banana Hammock, Leather Belt, Desert Boots, Skullfucker, Death Knell, Combat Knife, Sharp Hatchet, Hannibals Haymaker, Pre-War Mountain Bike Status Effects: Internal Parasite Abilities: Sucker Punch S:6 P:3 E:5 C:5 I:3 A:10 L:8 Elizabeth 'Eli' Stoudemire Lvl 1: Humble Hobo Equipped: Knife, Revolver, Coat S:3 P:8 E:4 C:6 I:4 A:8 L:7 CP: FS has a bachelors degree in poor taste and a masters in bad manners LD: Orton can be whatever Hamiltons version of The Nightman is FP: fs youre like in a very minor minority where cauze youre autistic and gay and an asshole you can say any slur | |
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| FallenSanity | Oct 19 2016, 07:39 AM Post #11 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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It was such an easy thing to forget that Otriad was a small town. Whenever one came to the town center they would see one person or another at the well, and they would see people wandering in and out of stores, and the farm was always occupied, and there was never really a time when it felt empty. As the Madsnake made his leave of said town center, it was no surprise that he felt somewhat busied by the presence of folk around him. He had a goal though, and could spend no time wandering and forming small talk. He headed to the concrete road, and from there, the riverbed. It was the same as it had always been. The riverbed was dried out, and the mudcracks were slowly being overgrown as weeds and grass snuck over them and throughout the base of the riverbed. The Madsnake could see footprints that tracked up and down the river, including his own, and he wondered how common that sort of thing was, leaving these marks behind. His own prints were barely visible, and he only saw them because he knew he had been down here and recognised his footprints. Those of the farmers and mercenaries were deep and heavily packed, and it gave away where they were, there routes, everything. It was, in it’s own way, a strange thing for the Madsnake to realise in the moment. He’d often been unaware of tracking, or merely forgotten it, and so to realise or rediscover it messed with his mind. The way down the river was actually quite long. Easily wide enough for five men shoulder-to-shoulder, and nearly half a man deep at deepest, the creek had quite a lot to go for it, as it operated almost as a natural trench for the mercenaries, but also for any raiders who might attempt to pursue Otriad; a huge amount of resource wealth could be claimed from the city, from both its well and its farms, and that wasn’t even taking into consideration the merchants and the Monetary Outpost. This place was a prime target for raiders, but more than that, for people like the Madsnake. He travelled down the river for a short while, noticing small canals dug out that led into the farmlands. The water dryed up, in the Madsnakes mind, not long after the war had ended, but now he could see that the river itself had provided sustenance to the post-war farmland. The drying of the river was likely a major part of the crop failure, though it didn’t make sense as to why the farmers hadn’t looked for an alternate source at this point. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Sadly, not much in Otriad did make any sense at this point. The Madsnake didn’t have much longer to wander as two forms became clear to him just on the outskirts of the town’s farmland. Sitting down on the bay of the river, their guns laying a few feet away, two mercenaries were playing cards. One of them wore a basic leather jacket with a drab bandana, and the other wore a measly patched up outfit that served as typical mercenary or bounty hunter gear, enough armour to survive a few brawls but you’d not last long in a proper gunfight. The Madsnake took a few steps too many, and he was spotted. One of them rolled over and picked up his carbine, while the other grabbed a .32 from the ground near him. Both took aim at the Madsnake, who put up his hands calmly. He was still within the confines of the town - the riverbed forming a direct border - and any attacks made on him would be unjustified. If they were trying to avoid a martyr, it’d be best to not kill off the town’s newest accepted guest. The two of them angrily lowered their weapons as the Madsnake closed in, recognising him much to one of the two of their dismay. “I was wondering when we’d see you next. Seem to cross paths a lot. Y’know, that stunt you pulled, bribing us to get into the outpost, it-” “You demanded I pay tribute. I did as you asked of me. There was no bribery involved, and the fact that you chose to propose that as a deterrence of your already corrupt nature says more about you than you may think it does me.” “Don’t you think I know that? I expected that, like, a bribe would go unconcerned. Got both of us demoted instead, fucking stupid is what it is. The captain’s a bitch though, even if she does have nice tits.” The Madsnake didn’t bother responding to that comment. Instead, he reached into his pack and pulled out a big hide, and a pair of common lids. Based on some minor spending he’d seen in the town, he’d figure out that lids were, to some people in the Wasteland, a form of currency. He couldn’t comprehend it; at least hides could be used to produce leather and leather goods, but lids seemed entirely pointless. It would be like trading in bottlecaps in his mind. It wasn’t relevant to the moment though, as he knew that the two mercenaries simply saw currency. The two of them looked at him briskly, not lingering long on what he was presenting them. “This is a bribe. If you want to be punished for it, you might as well do it.” The more acclaimed of the two mercenaries, the speaker of the two of them, looked at the Madsnake through his mangy hair, his burn scar still as hard to miss as before. He eyes the hides, and then the lids, and pondered something quite heavily. He was considering taking the bribe before even knowing what it was for. Corruption at work, a rare sight. “I want you two to do something I doubt would be a good idea. I doubt it would be right for you. I know it would benefit you both greatly, in at least the shortest term.” The Madsnake waited, and then they both nodded. They were willing to hear him out, and that was as much as he needed to keep going. “I want you to kill Edward Shanks.” The two of them froze, and one of them almost dropped their playing cards. The scarred one looked at the Madsnake incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe that he was really asking a question that insane. The other simply shook his head, standing up and wandering a few feet away, as if immediately deterred by such a remark. However, neither of them interrupted him, and so it gave him leave to continue. “You will get what I offer you now. You will also be given a small sum from each resident of the town immediately after the deed is done. After that, you will be given temporary cover to flee, if you so wish.” A still silence didn’t last too long, as the burned mercenary laughed and spoke, look down to the Madsnake as he stood up straight, still holding onto his own pistol. There was something in the way he looked that read differently to his voice, and it wasn’t too hard to place. “Listen, there’s only like, two minutes between guard rotation on the outpost, and even if we got in during the rotation Shanks would put up a fight. We’d have a hard time, it’s gonna be difficult. And if the captain catches we’ll have our heads torn through our asses…” He looked over to his partner, who remained silent. He sighed and walked over, and away from the Madsnake the two muttered for some time. It seemed like there was a small argument, before finally the burned mercenary returned, stepping into the riverbed and talking face to face with the Madsnake. “We need absolute surety that we’ll get away with this. If we can’t get that, there’s never gonna be a deal. We’ll need to plan something out overnight, and we’ll need food to survive out there, you know how it is. Tell you what… We’ll take your offer, add two satchels of food to it, and… whatever weapons you guys have. Y’know, in your stores. Food, weapons, maybe some stimpaks too. We’ll need those. Then we still want the payment from the rest of the town. If you can get us that? Then we’ll try and take out Shanks.” “Deal.” There wasn’t even a second thought in the Madsnake’s mind. He knew that, if he could get these two to deal a killing blow to Shanks, it would be worth any amount they wanted. The mercenaries both looked a little surprised by the instant acceptance, and wondered if they should have asked for more, as the Madsnake turned around and made his way back to Otriad, his mind heavy. The balls were rolling and it seemed that, if things went well in the next twenty-four hours, then the town would be able to celebrate the destruction of Edward Shanks and his control on the town, or at the absolute least, the disintegration of the mercenaries hired to support him. |
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Daniel Orton [HC] Lvl 6: Copperhead Cook Rep: -40 Eastern Texas, -250 Texas Rangers, +90 Crag Equipped: Mirrored Sunglasses, Armstrong Hellcat Necklace, Raider Armour, Culture-Clash Jacket, Crag Swag (Jeans), Black Banana Hammock, Leather Belt, Desert Boots, Skullfucker, Death Knell, Combat Knife, Sharp Hatchet, Hannibals Haymaker, Pre-War Mountain Bike Status Effects: Internal Parasite Abilities: Sucker Punch S:6 P:3 E:5 C:5 I:3 A:10 L:8 Elizabeth 'Eli' Stoudemire Lvl 1: Humble Hobo Equipped: Knife, Revolver, Coat S:3 P:8 E:4 C:6 I:4 A:8 L:7 CP: FS has a bachelors degree in poor taste and a masters in bad manners LD: Orton can be whatever Hamiltons version of The Nightman is FP: fs youre like in a very minor minority where cauze youre autistic and gay and an asshole you can say any slur | |
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| FallenSanity | Oct 20 2016, 09:03 AM Post #12 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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The Madsnake rejoined the small but popular rebellion in the Dry Goods store, immediately interrupting a heated debate. It seemed as if Vernon, the large and foreboding watchman of the group, was disagreeing with something being said by Abigail, the eldest member, and Marcus, the symbolic leader. It was strange considering most interactions seemed to lean towards Abigail and Marcus butting heads, but it was something that indicated even further that there was a mixture of absolute synchronisation in the group as well as total anarchy. It just depended on what was being discussed. “Thomas, thank Christ, a change of pace. How did everythin’ go?” “I found two mercenaries who were corrupt and willing to commit to our cause for the right lump sum. I have given them some of my most valuable possessions, promised them a large sum of food, weapons, ammunition, and medication, as well as individual payment from each of you. It is not a cheap purchase, but the two of them have made the promise that they will eliminate Edward Shanks. Due to their proximity to him and his security force, they will have no issue infiltrating and executing the proprietor. If you oppose my choice then you may feel free to speak up, but I suggest not intervening in the procedure. The town of Otriad will be disposed of Edward Shanks come the end of the week.” A few emotions ran across the room at once, and the Madsnake could see a wave of regret, ease, and anger all at once. In a few faces, specifically those of Abigail and Eliza, a look of pure joy was directed towards the Madsnake, as they were pleased simply to hear that Shanks would be gone. No one within the town was forced to spill blood, and the man still wound up dead. Some, however, were less happy; Marcus looked absolutely furious to know that the mercenaries were going to be making more money even with Shanks out of the picture, and Vernon looked utterly forlorn. It was influencing the crowd, that much was obvious. “In the week, Edward Shanks will be gone. By the next week, at the absolute most, the mercenaries will too be gone. Otriad will belong to the people again, and they may be able to focus on repairing their woes. Is this not the end goal of this entire operation, after all?” There was a murmur through the small crowd but it seemed like the general consensus was that the Madsnake was, despite prevailing opinions, correct. A few people seemed to rummage through their pockets to find out if they had anything valuable on them, but that wasn’t too long before a voice harked over the building from the back, a fairly familiar one too. “Thay want vittles an barkin' irons, am ah payin' 'em in that case?!” Hoctor easily overpowered the mood of the room, as he stood up on the counter of his store. It was a fair qualm, and it was one that the Madsnake was certainly less comfortable with, because he was more or less forced to have the Dry Good’s store offer up a huge surplus of its goods to the two mercenaries. The Madsnake slipped through the crowd as chatter began, and met privately with Hoctor at the counter. “You will have to offer up whatever ammunition or weaponry you have available. I do not know what, if any, a Dry Goods store would have, but it must be offered to them. Two simple satchels of food are all that was asked, and that could be easily achieved with cabbage and mutfruit.” “Eddy 'as some spears, other than that we gawt squat. Maahyt be some medicaahn around, but ah'm not syhaw. Listen Thomas, we're not gonna gitty-up 'appily into thuh sunset awn this. Unless thay kill-” “Nothing has been promised to them until they deliver the execution. Only then will our pay need to be made to them. I have made a preemptive offer, and they have accepted that. No one here will need to worry until they have seen proof of Edward Shanks’ death.” The silence that had fallen as the Madsnake spoke ended almost immediately, as people began to funnel out of the building. There seemed to be a wave of acceptance, as people admitted that seeing Shanks dead would be worth a great deal to them - it was, seemingly, the initial payment before the fact that they weren’t too happy with. It struck the Madsnake as odd that people weren’t as willing as he, a stranger in the town, but it came down to the fact that he was using the town, and the rest of the people were the town. A thick line divided them, and the Madsnake was not going to be one to question it. As soon as he did, it would open up a plethora of other questions. The Madsnake didn’t have much else to do at this point, until Marcus and the others ushered him into a small circle around the stores bar. Hoctor, Abigail, Vernon, Marcus and Eliza were discussing the best way to pay the mercenaries, as it seemed there was some contention on what to do about it. Marcus and Eliza were arguing loudly, and Abigail was trying her best to calm the situation. “We can’t offer them all’v’re our goods. What, the town just goes broke for this… this assassination?” “Marcus, you’ve pushed to get rid of Shanks ever since he established his little Monetary Outpost. Now we have the chance, and you don’t wanna pay up when it’s done!? What’s th-” “I wanted the town to put that whole dang organisation down! We’re just fools now, can’t even get a run a man out of town. What’re we doin’ at this point, hm? Got our fingers crammed so far up our ass we might as well just lay down in the sun and wait for the coyotes’ to eat us up!” “Yer bein’ childish!” “Marcus, these mercenaries are the only definite available to the town at this point in time in regards to the removal of Edward Shanks from power, and the return of the Otriad Monetary Outopst to the authority of Otriad itself. If you wish to propose an assault of some sort you are still free to, but it may halt operations to eliminate Shanks and may make it impossible in the long run. Any obvious offence will force Shanks and the mercenary captain to not only improve security, but begin to punish individuals found conspiring. They may very well wipe Otriad off the map. It is a risk not worthy of the reward.” Marcus growled under his breath, look the Madsnake in his eyes. He stopped for a second, and his expression dropped. The Madsnake couldn’t pinpoint it, but Marcus saw something in his eyes that gave him a total mental and emotional relapse. He hesitated, and Marcus rushed out of the room. The others were confounded, and Vernon followed behind to figure out what had just happened. The Madsnake took up a more defensive stance, his shoulders pushed back and his head high, as he began to wonder if he was now going to come under threat from Marcus or the town. He had just worked hard, and paid up, to ensure its safety and his own. He’d known it would be temporary, but he at least hoped for a week or so or safety. Hoctor, the Madsnake, Abigail and Eliza stuck around the Dry Good’s store for some time. Three of them played games and laughed, while the Madsnake simply tried to come off as a sociable individual. It wasn’t long before he left the store, heading outside and realising just how much time he’d spent from his day running around and putting an actual plan in action. The sun was setting, and the guards were all bumbling about, changing guards. He wondered if the mercenaries he had paid had managed to figure anything out before sunset. He made his way to Abigail’s home, and set himself inside, laying down on the bed and taking a long heavy sigh. The days felt longer than before. He wasn’t able to handle his hunger, holding up this facade. It just didn’t work. “Thomas? That you? I’m in the kitchen hon, cookin’ up some grub!” The Madsnake hoisted himself up, groggily making his way into the kitchen and taking a seat. He was served, by a very happy Abigail, a meal of chicken soup, something he had not expected in the slightest. He was about to ask where she’d found chicken, but he didn’t actually care. He got to eating immediately, relishing in the taste of meat in his mouth. He almost shuddered in pleasure as he drank his soup down, enjoying every last morsel. It had been a good moment, but perhaps not the best idea. Cut her! Fucking eat! The Madsnake clutched at the table, and thankfully Abbey failed to notice as she sat down and began to dig into her own meal. It wasn’t going to be long now before he snapped entirely. This whole situation was starting to feel like it had been pointless; he always gave in by the end, it was one of the true inevitabilities of the world. The Madsnake stood up abruptly, and tried to hide the sweat running down his brow. “Pardon me… Abbey. I must, get some sleep… I must get some sleep.” The Madsnake didn’t give her the respect of a response, heading off to the bedroom and laying down on it. By the time he faded into a world without reality, he was comforted by shapes he recognised, shapes he did not welcome, shapes he needed. They spoke softly to him. Then they began to yell. |
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Daniel Orton [HC] Lvl 6: Copperhead Cook Rep: -40 Eastern Texas, -250 Texas Rangers, +90 Crag Equipped: Mirrored Sunglasses, Armstrong Hellcat Necklace, Raider Armour, Culture-Clash Jacket, Crag Swag (Jeans), Black Banana Hammock, Leather Belt, Desert Boots, Skullfucker, Death Knell, Combat Knife, Sharp Hatchet, Hannibals Haymaker, Pre-War Mountain Bike Status Effects: Internal Parasite Abilities: Sucker Punch S:6 P:3 E:5 C:5 I:3 A:10 L:8 Elizabeth 'Eli' Stoudemire Lvl 1: Humble Hobo Equipped: Knife, Revolver, Coat S:3 P:8 E:4 C:6 I:4 A:8 L:7 CP: FS has a bachelors degree in poor taste and a masters in bad manners LD: Orton can be whatever Hamiltons version of The Nightman is FP: fs youre like in a very minor minority where cauze youre autistic and gay and an asshole you can say any slur | |
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| FallenSanity | Oct 21 2016, 06:10 AM Post #13 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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The Madsnake was ripped awake by a sound as sharp and as loud as a gunshot. In fact, if he had to guess what the noise itself had been, he would have followed his instinct and assumed it was one. They weren’t entirely uncommon in the Wasteland, and the fact of the matter was that Otriad was on the brink for a while; a shootout wouldn’t be a true surprise. He crawled out of bed, clawing his way to the door before lashing out, his bat in his hand, his knife tucked into a back pocket. It looked like there was panic, but it didn’t feel like it in the slightest. People were laughimg and cheering as they rushed around the town centre, with even a handful of mercenaries joining in on the fun. Based on a cursory glance, the Madsnake thought there must be a party or event taking place, and it was only after a few moments that he realised it was a makeshift fair, with a brahmin race just off by the road, food stalls set up by Hoctor and a caravan merchant, a scrap stall run by Eddy, a small bar being run by Eliza and, most importantly , a shootimg range run by Marcus. It was at that range that the waking sound had originated, and the Madsnake recognised that it had indeed been a gunshot; Abbey, her plaid top tied around her waist leaving her in a stained shirt, was laughing and covering her mouth as she clumsily handed the .32 pistol back to Marcus, his wide toothy laugh giving the Madsnake and instantly poor feeling in his gut. Marcus handed the gun over to one of the towns farmers, who happily took up the opportujity. Marcus and Abbey spotted the Madsnake, and the latter came bolting over to embrace him. “Thomas, yer up! Aint never seen the town this happy! Marcus says it's cozza you!” She kissed him before letting go, hopping just a little. She was utterly overjoyed by this while situation and it was, in a small way, rather adorable. He wondered if she had a plan in mind, only for her mother to call her over. Abbey looked crestfallen from her mother to the Madsnake, running and giving him a second kiss before heading over to the Dry Goods stall. “I’ll see you later honey-bee! Oh, ‘nd Marcus wants’t talk with ya!” He looked over, and sure enough, Marcus was staring back. The leader of the intended revolution was smiling and laughing, but although he carred himself happily he did not for a second look away from the Madsnake or his area of standing. With a small wave he ushered the town's most popular stranger over, and the Madsnake had little choice but to go along. He walked to Marcus, and saw a deranged look deep in the young man's eyes. “‘s nice to see yer attending, Thomas. This whole shindig was thrown tuhgether in hopes of unitin’ the community, after all. What’d’ya make of it?” The Madsnake wasn’t really sure what to think. He wasn’t a learned man, but he could tell Marcus was not in top shape; he worried that something was going on that he couldn’t see, and Marcus insisting on speaking so directly to the Madsnake gave credence to his thoughts. The Madsnake composed himself as best he could, before giving a proper response. “I think it is a surprise. Why is there an event taking place?” “Shoot Thomas, just tryin’ to lighten up the mood. Town needs summin’ like this every now’n again. What better time than right now, on the cusp of glory, hm?” The Madsnake didn’t entirely agree. It felt like a distraction, a way to bring attention away from something else in Marcus’ mind and plans. The Madsnake had no faith in the man, and judging by the way he was acting it was fitting. As he panned his view over the crowd, he noticed some people missing, and others brand new. Caravan merchants had propped up, and some of the farmers seemed to be not present. Whether for their own reasons and coincidences or not, it didn’t help the Madsnake’s comforts. He shook his head, and turned to leave. “You stay right here you damned four-flusher. Think I’m not on to you? You’re pullin’ the wool over some eyes, but not mine boy. This town aint big enough for some jumped up ex-raider and the law. I see you, how you walk and talk. Your eyes have the lookin’s of a murderer. It’s foul. When I saw it last night, I realised I had to take matters into my own hands.” Marcus whispered just loud enough for the Madsnake to hear, and with just enough passion that it almost genuinely scared the cannibal. The two of them were bearing it all out right now, as they stood face-to-face, chest-to-chest. “You have your right to attempt a personal coup against Edward Shanks and the Otriad Monetary Outpost. It will interfere with current plans and may bastardise the most successful chance you have in reclaiming Otriad. However, you still have that right. The mercenaries will kill every single person they can if you choose to fight them openly, and Edward Shanks will hold up in an impenetrable fortress. You have your right to a personal coup, even if that is ensuring all hope fails.” “Y’think me a fool, don’t you? Look at me. I’m armed. Look at the farmer taking up aim on the buckets down the range. He’s armed. Vernon’s about to take up some shots too. He’s armed. We’re ready. Y’know who’s not? Those mercs over by the well. We’ll blow them to the embrace of the Lord, and then we’ll do it again when th’others come rollin’ in.” “You are going to fail.” Marcus shoved the Madsnake. A few people were caught by the act, but it didn’t take long for them to return to their affairs. Marcus adjusted himself, and as a few people glanced at him, he simply nodded. The Madsnake caught them as they quickly returned to acting ‘normal’, handing out vegetables and playing the games available, chatting with the other locals and acting as if nothing had happened. He had more than half the town on his side now, and less than a quarter of them were equipped with firearms. Any fight would end in a slaughter. The Madsnake needed this town to survive if he was going to try to. “Do not be a fool, Marcus. Your forces are not equipped to fight trained mercenaries. Otriad as it stands could not handle a gaggle of junkies, let alone twelve superior soldiers. You are making a mistake.” Marcus shrugged it off, standing between the farmer and Vernon, watching them aim at the firing line. Just to the right, a pair of mercenaries laughed and drank, dulled by the booze. “The only mistake we ever made was letting Shanks get this far.” Marcus pulled up his own pistol, ready to kill and begin the battle that has been waiting for so long. He took aim, directly at one of the mercenaries heads, eager to put a stop to this rule of the Otriad Monetary Outpost. A shot rang out through the town, and everything stopped. |
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Daniel Orton [HC] Lvl 6: Copperhead Cook Rep: -40 Eastern Texas, -250 Texas Rangers, +90 Crag Equipped: Mirrored Sunglasses, Armstrong Hellcat Necklace, Raider Armour, Culture-Clash Jacket, Crag Swag (Jeans), Black Banana Hammock, Leather Belt, Desert Boots, Skullfucker, Death Knell, Combat Knife, Sharp Hatchet, Hannibals Haymaker, Pre-War Mountain Bike Status Effects: Internal Parasite Abilities: Sucker Punch S:6 P:3 E:5 C:5 I:3 A:10 L:8 Elizabeth 'Eli' Stoudemire Lvl 1: Humble Hobo Equipped: Knife, Revolver, Coat S:3 P:8 E:4 C:6 I:4 A:8 L:7 CP: FS has a bachelors degree in poor taste and a masters in bad manners LD: Orton can be whatever Hamiltons version of The Nightman is FP: fs youre like in a very minor minority where cauze youre autistic and gay and an asshole you can say any slur | |
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| FallenSanity | Oct 22 2016, 04:17 AM Post #14 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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The mercenaries spun on their heels, looking in the direction of the gunshot that had abruptly ended the celebrations. One by one, they ran off to the Otriad Monetary Outpost. “Fire! Fi-” Vernon swung his arm like a club, bowling down the young farmer and Marcus in turn, standing over them and ensuring that the intended execution didn’t take place. Marcus was fuming, but the confusion around the area only exacerbated it. Of the five men he’d convinced to operate alongside him, one had turned against him, one was knocked out, and the other three were too caught off-guard by the gunshot and Marcus being knocked down to tell what to do. As Marcus went to roar a command, Vernon stepped on his chest, winding him instantly and causing him to cough in pain. The mercenaries were out of sight by the time Marcus was allowed to stand, and he pulled his gun on Vernon without a second thought, only for two of the men in the crowd to do the same to him, along with Eliza and Hoctor. He didn’t have his finger on the trigger, but he looked like he would’ve taken the shot if it was a private confrontation. The Madsnake tried to not get himself involved in the situation. “Vernon you lily livered sack o’ bull balls! That would’a been our only chance to-” “Ah'm not lettin' ya destroy everythin' we done worked for, Marcus. Otriad dudn need a bloodbath. Not todee.” There was a sound of support through the crowd, and Marcus, who had been viewed as a leader and a possible martyr, seemed like anything but. He growled furiously before tossing his gun to the ground, storming past the others and away from the crowd, out into the farmlands. Abbey made a beeline to the Madsnake, clinging to his arm in confusion. He could see Hoctor and Abigail looking at him, and Eliza checking on the unconscious farmer. He waited for one of them to speak. “This is all jus’ a bit of a misunderstandin’, people. That sound ya heard? It’s the sound of justice. Don’t bother to scare yerselves silly about it.” Hoctor shook his head as Abigail tried to calm everyone down, but her transparency came through clearly. He looked to the Madsnake again, urging the man to speak. He decided he had no other option than to be honest. “That gunshot came from the Otriad Monetary Outpost. A plan was put into action that involved the assassination of Edward Shanks as well as the integral dismantling of the mercenary faction employed by said proprietor of the Otriad Monetary Outpost. It is highly likely that the heard gunshot was one made in line with that plan. Whether made by an assassin or against one is unknown as of yet. I would request that everyone remain calm until something can be made certain.” Vernon walked up to the Madsnake, looking down at him and crossing his arms. He looked forlorn and dipped his head, shaking it with a look of self-disdain and regret. He looked back into the Madsnakes cold, burned eyes, and nodded once, before speaking over the crowd. “Ah was in support awf Marcus. Please let me git eend fahnd out what happened at thuh outpost, it's thuh least ah can do.” The Madsnake nodded, finding it weird to be taking authority over the town now. People so often seemed to look to the unknown for answers, and it made no sense in the long-run; you can’t trust someone who is an unknown, and the Madsnake is utter proof of this. He looked at Abbey, who couldn’t look at him but continue to cling on, trying to ignore her own confusion. Looking to Abigail and Hoctor, the Madsnake could see this feeling of relief and fear mixing on their faces. Things were about to get heated, it was all too obvious. As Vernon made his way over to the concrete path to find out what was going on, the crowd began to disperse. Another gunshot caught everyone’s attention, and people stopped in their steps as Vernon fell to the ground, a great gaping red hole in the side of his head, with small ones all around it. The sound of a cocking gun followed behind, and the Madsnake saw Lisa round the corner, leading five soldiers behind her. “What in the ungodly fuck did you people think when you paid those two to kill our employer, huh?! Which stupid bastard thought that, of all ideas, was the one to go with?!” A few eyes darted to the Madsnake, but no one spoke. One of the men behind Lisa leant in, and she turned to look the town’s strangest stranger dead in the eyes. She raised up the flamer that she had strapped to one of her arms, the tubes leading to the gas tank on her back bending with her as she pointed her weapon to the sky, resting it on her shoulder. A smile didn’t take its time to spread across her face. “Alright, let’s see. You got our employer killed, and two of my men to turn on me. They’ll be executed pretty soon, so that’s three lives you need to pay back. We already took out your watchdog, so how about we put down the wanderer and his fuck-toy, huh? You all agree with that? Hell, we’ll even leave on-” “Hold up there! No one else needs to die today!!” Marcus rushed into the center of the town, between the crowd and the mercenaries. Three guns were pointed at him, and some of them seemed simply eager to shoot him on the spot. Lisa looked the man down, frowning as he stood between her and her justice. “Someone already has died today, Marcus. Two more of mine are going to because of this towns actions. I’m just making sure Otriad has the proper justice served.” The townspeople seemed to move in around the mercenaries as Lisa spoke, as if to make the crowd seem larger than it was. How the people thought that a wise idea the Madsnake couldn't tell, but he went with them. He had to come off as if he was standing by them; everyone was on edge, it wouldn’t do to have them all against him. Abigail, Hoctor and Eliza stood at the front, backing up Marcus, while the Madsnake stood just behind them, pushing Abbey to his side. Lisa looked across the crowd, and sneered. “Let’s say we don’t take that justice, that justice that we deserve! What will we get instead as your form of payment for your actions, hm?” “How ‘bout all the crops you’re boys took in the first place?! We weren’t actin’ on our own girl, we were taking our own justice!” Lisa looked at Abigail, angered by the old ladies opposition. Before the captain of the mercenary force was able to speak up, a cheer came from the crowd, followed by more, and then by jeers and shouts. “Your people turned this town into a dust pit!” “Raped the land! Tha’s all they did! Nuth’ more than varmints!” Kill someone! “Penedjo’s killed tha wildlife man! No one can hunt anymore!” “Shoot the brahmin fer fun!!” “Ya killed Vernon! Yer nothin’ but raiders!” Cut them! “You killed this town!” Do it! The Madsnake felt the world slow all around him. This feeling of bliss came as his mind went clear, but not just clear. It was a peaceful emptiness, the kind that allowed him to think and feel without question. His world went white, and he saw the figure of a truly strong woman etched into his surroundings, always moving but ever still. He smiled at her, as she spoke words none could understand or rival. She eased his mind. He stood calmly and the world returned to itself, and everything was still and calm, and his eyes met Lisa. She huffed. "FINE. You know what, this town... It's not worth the scrap its made of. The only thing we'd get from killing you is satisfaction, and then you'd all be right in calling us raiders. You dumbasses can die out here. Have fun starving to death." To the visual chagrin of her comrades, Lisa ordered them to leave, lowering their eagerly twitching guns and turning their backs on an angered mob. They were lucky Otriad was poorly armed. Once the mercenaries were out of view, the town was left with a sorry sight, as Vernon's motionless body filled everyone's mind. They had freed the cityn but it was less bloodless than they had hoped, and a good man had died. Otriad would mourn that day. |
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Daniel Orton [HC] Lvl 6: Copperhead Cook Rep: -40 Eastern Texas, -250 Texas Rangers, +90 Crag Equipped: Mirrored Sunglasses, Armstrong Hellcat Necklace, Raider Armour, Culture-Clash Jacket, Crag Swag (Jeans), Black Banana Hammock, Leather Belt, Desert Boots, Skullfucker, Death Knell, Combat Knife, Sharp Hatchet, Hannibals Haymaker, Pre-War Mountain Bike Status Effects: Internal Parasite Abilities: Sucker Punch S:6 P:3 E:5 C:5 I:3 A:10 L:8 Elizabeth 'Eli' Stoudemire Lvl 1: Humble Hobo Equipped: Knife, Revolver, Coat S:3 P:8 E:4 C:6 I:4 A:8 L:7 CP: FS has a bachelors degree in poor taste and a masters in bad manners LD: Orton can be whatever Hamiltons version of The Nightman is FP: fs youre like in a very minor minority where cauze youre autistic and gay and an asshole you can say any slur | |
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| FallenSanity | Oct 23 2016, 07:28 AM Post #15 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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Otriad was quiet as the day grew on. Abigail and few others worked in the farm, though they did so slowly and without haste. The merchants who had come to the town were set up just by the Dry Goods store, but none of them made much business, and the rest of the town’s inhabitants were scared, standing around and whispering to each other, as Marcus and Eddy dug a grave just by the road, with Vernon lying next to it to be lowered in. The death of the humble giant had shaken the town, and the Madsnake feared it might not be able to recover. The mercenaries had done their damage. The outpost had many of its defenses dismantled, and though people tried to rebuild the sandbag defenses, most of the bags themselves had been slashes and made useless. The shutters as well had been dented and rolled up, making bringing them down an almost impossible chore for the elderly farmers and tired civilians. Along with an utterly crippled morale, and there was nothing much that could be done. There had been some degree of joy when Edward Shanks’ corpse was brought out on display, showing off the bullet hole just to the right of dead-centre in his brow, but it didn’t last long. He was dragged away and tossed out of the boundaries of the town, left for the coyotes to feast on. The Madsnake was wandering through the town with no idea of what to do or even what needed to be done. Technically speaking he’d done all that was needed; he had secured a place in the town, and he was respected by almost all of its inhabitants for his calm demeanour in the face of the near end of Otriad. None of them pieced together that he simply wasn’t too blown over by the idea of the town falling, but it wasn’t all that relevant when all was said and done. The Madsnake was here now, and he needed to figure out where to go from here. Perhaps, for now, the best place to go was the outpost. The walk wasn’t a pleasant one. The Madsnake had only been told of the damages done to the outpost, he hadn’t seen any of them in his own right. The front of the building was riddled with bullet holes, the glass of the windows were shattered, and a pair of cut nooses hung from the bannisters of the monetary outpost. If there was any question of what had happened to the mercenaries that the Madsnake had employed, it was duly answered. He made his way up the small steps to the front doors of the outpost, stepping over the shattered and splintered wood, looking around in disbelief. The place was still packed. All the money, all the boxes and crates, everything had been left untouched. The only change that could be seen was a knocked over chair in the middle of the room, and behind the counter, a massive blood stain on the wall, right behind the head of Marcus, who sat in Edward Shanks’ old seat. He looked up at the Madsnake, closing some files and sighing heavily, before smiling at his would-be enemy in other circumstances. “Thomas, y’know, it’s strange how things work out. We were as desperate as they come when you rolled by our lil’ town… Shanks ran this burgh into the ground years ago, and when his soldier boys popped in we weren’t bein’ helped one bit. ‘Round that time the water dried up, no clues as to why, and with a new tax on our own crops it weren’t like we could do much more than die out. We… we didn’t have the guns… the time… the courage… We weren’t foolhardy, we were simple farmin’ folk. What were we s’pposed to do, huh? Safe to say everyone resigned to their deaths. The mercs didn’t help out neither, they only made matters worse. Ran off Eddy’s suppliers, ruined Hoctor’s… and I’d rather we not mention the horrors they committed on the town’s women. Y’know, strangest part? I don’t even feel ‘s if their cap’n was in the whole thing. Never saw her in town. I’d gamble my life on all their hateful acts being put on by Shanks himself.” The Madsnake didn’t know what to do other than listen. Marcus was opening up and it was something he just needed to do at this point. So much had happened in the last few hours, and now so much more would need to be done. As long as the town could handle the stress, they’d survive with no issue. “You weren’t the first fella we called on to help us, you know that? Had this caravan come through ‘bout six months back and, lemme tall ya, biggest caravan I ever saw on one brahmin. That man had himself a minigun, a missile launcher… machine gun, armour, munitions, food, water, all sorts o’ things I aint never seen since. He was a good man. We asked him to help us and, by the grace of God, he did. But, end of the day, a caravan merchant answers to one lord. Shanks offered him money, and the man made his way onto Austin, and never spoke to a single one of us again… Last I saw he was in town a few days ago, chatting to Shanks ‘bout some trade network. From there desperation turned to regret and depression… Then, along comes some northern boy, eager to set things right. You were a blessing, Thomas. I don’t think you quite know that.” Marcus stood up and walked over to the Madsnake, who hesitated and almost took a step back. Marus wrapped his arms around the Madsnae, and hugged him tightly, and the Madsnake had to simply stand confused. “We’d have taken anyone we could. Just so happened, it was you. Now, I don’t know if you’re smart or just lucky as all Hell, but you saved this town. All I did was… get Vernon killed… embarrass myself… I know it’s not much, but if you wanna stay in Otriad, you’re welcome. We need the muscle, that’s for sure. Not to mention you’d keep Abbey tied down.” The Madsnake nodded simply. Marcus smiled, and sat back down behind his desk, working on the filing. By the looks of things he was simply making a record of what was in the outpost, and the Madsnake didn’t exactly see anything that caught his attention. His eyes kept being drawn back to the blood stains, and he hesitated every time he saw them. Kill him! The Madsnake turned and left the outpost immediately. He felt hunger in his gut and it writhed inside him. He couldn’t eat some old cabbages and hot water, not this time. He needed something substantial, something proper. He rushed to Abigail’s house, bursting through the door and grabbing his bag, rummaging through it. He pulled out a single long stretch of rubber and grinned, tucking it into his pants before making his leave again. Abigail and Abbey were likely on the farm, trying to work on reworking the fields. It was needed, after all. The Madsnake didn’t hear the people talking to him as he made his way down the road. Bite them! Devour them! Oh, Daniel, you’re back huh? Are you finally going to feed, hm? It’s been a while, you’re doing good kid, who knows, maybe you can do better than some voices in your head, huh? Fucking choke! The Madsnake stood outside a large walled area, not far from Otriad. The scrap and salvage inside piled up, but he didn’t hesitate this time. He rushed into the yard, darting through random tunnels and alleys as he tried to find his way to Eddy. From behind him he heard metal scraping together, and spun to see Eddy, smiling up at him. The Latino led his new friend to the back, eager to find out why the Madsnake had come, but he couldn’t hear everything Eddy was saying. The Madsnake barely even heard his own footsteps at this point. He walked into Eddy’s home, and felt silence wash over him as the sliders on the door were locked. That was it. The Madsnake spun and grabbed Eddy, pulling the long band of rubber around his neck, holding it tight in each hand. Eddy tried to reach back at the Madsnake, clawing at his exposed arms, scratching and drawing blood but not even remotely dissuading him. Eddy turned his head, looking up into the Madsnakes dark pupils, gasping and croaking. He kicked wildly, shattering a small vase by the door, the sound of which contrasted with Eddy’s splutters. The room was silent beyond that. The Madsnake was in a daze, not bothering to even consider relinquishing the agony of constriction and terror from Eddy. The Latino coughed one last time, before muttering into the darkness his final word. “... Th… Thomas…” The Madsnake waited until Eddy was fully limp. No more twitching, no more kicking. He waited before finally dropping the body with a thud to the floor, his eyes glazed over and staring into the abyss. The Madsnake dropped to his knees, rolled Eddy over, and prepared for his feast. |
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Daniel Orton [HC] Lvl 6: Copperhead Cook Rep: -40 Eastern Texas, -250 Texas Rangers, +90 Crag Equipped: Mirrored Sunglasses, Armstrong Hellcat Necklace, Raider Armour, Culture-Clash Jacket, Crag Swag (Jeans), Black Banana Hammock, Leather Belt, Desert Boots, Skullfucker, Death Knell, Combat Knife, Sharp Hatchet, Hannibals Haymaker, Pre-War Mountain Bike Status Effects: Internal Parasite Abilities: Sucker Punch S:6 P:3 E:5 C:5 I:3 A:10 L:8 Elizabeth 'Eli' Stoudemire Lvl 1: Humble Hobo Equipped: Knife, Revolver, Coat S:3 P:8 E:4 C:6 I:4 A:8 L:7 CP: FS has a bachelors degree in poor taste and a masters in bad manners LD: Orton can be whatever Hamiltons version of The Nightman is FP: fs youre like in a very minor minority where cauze youre autistic and gay and an asshole you can say any slur | |
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