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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 (498 Views) | |
| FallenSanity | Oct 24 2016, 09:14 AM Post #16 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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Abbey returned home, surprised that she was alone. Her mother was still at the farms, and that was no surprise, but after all that had happened she was shocked to see Thomas not in bed or eating; she had visited Hoctor and Marcus, and seen Thomas nowhere else in town during her visits. She had to hope he was alright, and hadn’t wandered too far from the town; a few men had formed a patrol around midday, and noticed two groups of strangers on either side of the town. The group to the south seemed to be the mercenaries setting up a resting spot, but the northern party was unknown to anyone. She feared for him. The Madsnake tossed a long bone to his side, stripped entirely of its flesh, left only stained red and black. It joined a pile of over twenty other long bones, while three other piles were lined up not far off, sorted into short, flat, and irregular bones. The only bones missing at this point were the frontal and hip; the frontal had been smashed in to turn Eddy’s skull into a drinking chalice, while the hip bone had been broken into a number of pieces so as to access as much flesh as possible. The Madsnake licked his lips, as he got up and made his way over to a nearby cabinet. The scrapyard and Eddy seemed like the sort of place and person who would have a shocking amount of random scrap around, and it meant the Madsnake would be able to produce a rather useful cup. To his fortunes, the Madsnake found a small file that had in it a glue bottle, a roll of old worn out tape, and a handful of what appeared to be ceramics, which didnt seem all that useful. That was more than enough, as he set about to turn the stained and broken skull into something actually useful. He pulled the roll of tape apart, getting stretches of polyethylene that were for the most part without any sort of adhesive. The Madsnake squeezed out a small sum of glue on the back of the glue, laying the tape down on the bottom of the skull and sealing it off. He made sure to get the edges, to avoid fraying in the future. Reaching into Eddy’s old clothes a few minutes later, the Madsnake pulled out a bottle of beer, and poured it into the skull. Once the alcohol raised up over the tape, there were small trails of beer running down the holes, but beyond that it was holding up well. He began to drink, laying back and relishing in the feeling of being full. It had been too long. His mind was empty and his belly was full and he and his vices were sedated. He rolled up onto his feet, stepping out the door and through the scrapyard, back to the road outside. There was no point lingering any longer than he had to. The Madsnake was done with his meal, and that was that. The Madsnake was home in no time, and Abbey ran through the house to hug him. She had been terrified, thinking the worst had happened. She gripped him tight, and he gave her a soft pat on the head. She leant back and looked up at him, frowning. She was about to lecture him, before realising that his face was covered in blood. “Thomas! My word, what happened?” She reached up, dabbing his mouth with the sleeve of her shirt. The Madsnake shook his head, pushing her hand away and smiling at her, doing his best to feign worry. “It was nothing, Abbey. A few raiders who had patrolled near the salvage yard found me. I had to deal with them. Nothing more.” She didn’t believe him for a second, but by the look on his face she’d have to. Without another word she rushed outside, and the Madsnake headed towards the kitchen table. He sat down, relaxing again and feeling a bliss he hadn’t felt in far, far too long. By the time Abbey returned he was in a state of nirvana, and didn’t notice until after the fact that she was washing his face. A dirty handkerchief, coated in warm water, ran across his face and he had to admit it felt nice to be clean again. The dirt and dust of Otriad had layered over him, and now blood was joining it. She cleaned through his beard and hair, and tossed the bloodied rag aside before kissing him on the forehead. “Listen, there’s bad folk about, Thomas. I know, you’re a strong fella, but still… I worry. Don’t go wanderin’ off ‘less you tell me where you’re headed, please?” The Madsnake hesitated before nodding, and though it didn’t fill her with too much happiness, the Madsnake could tell she was at least happy to know he was trying to do good. She gave him a tight hug, and rested her head on his chest. He held her close, smelling her hair, feeling her body under his fingers. His mind began to return to him, and he embraced it. Bite her! He pushed the hair away from her neck, licking his lips. It would be easy, perhaps easier than how he had dealt with Eddy. But it would be foolish. He grumbled and lowered her hair, petting her head and stroking her hair, down to the small of her back. The door swung open, and the Madsnake looked over to Abigail wandering in, blushing and smiling as she saw her daughter and her personal trophy in a loving embrace. “You two a’right there? Don’t wanna share some o’ that happiness with the rest o’ the town?” Abbey rolled her eyes as she let go of her lover, looking to her mother who had a small basket of random goods with her. It looked to mostly be comprised of seeds, but a few barely-grown vegetables were there as well. It looked like enough food for a dog, and a sickly one at that. “Thomas, I’m glad you’re here. Spoke t’Marcus earlier, and he’s agreein’ with my decision to send some folk to investigate th’ dryin’ creek. Considerin’ what you’ve done fer the town already, I hope you wouldn’t mind helpin’ out just once more.” The Madsnake smiled and nodded, simply going with it. What good was it to deny things in Otriad anymore? The day went by slowly from there, and it wasn’t long till he was sat up and Abbey and Abigail worked in the kitchen to prepare another dinner. Once again, it was composed of little more than a broth. The Madsnake didn’t complain, downing his meal before taking rest with Abbey in her bed. A simple day, a calm day, for the Madsnake. A lovely change of pace. “Get up! E’ryone, get up!!” A yell shook the Madsnake awake, and Abbey with him. The two of them got dressed and walked out into the town, to see a growing crowd, with Marcus in the middle by the well. In each of his hands, bones. The Madsnake recognised them as Eddy’s. |
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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 25 2016, 07:04 AM Post #17 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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“I was at Eddy’s. He… I knew somethin’ was wrong, he weren’t answerin’ me. I called for a while, ‘n’ decided best thing ta do would be head on in… ‘s was all I could find in his home…” The crowd was slowly overcome. One by one people reacted, hands over mouths or clinging to people nearby, sorrow and fear and disgust washing over them. The Madsnake watched as Abbey shook at the knees, grabbing hold of him as people wavered, some wanting to get a closer look before rethinking their idea. A few people simply had to leave, with Eliza among them, rushing off to the well before hurling into it. Marcus stood alone, shadowed by dread, tears streaming down his plain face. The Madsnake had never personally seen a reaction to his work, and it made him overcome with pleasure; he was pleased to know what trauma it seemed he was causing. The Madsnake noticed Hoctor in the corner of his eye, moving through from the crowd to Marcus. He was hesitant and looked to be holding himself well, but it was worth noting that he avoided looking at the bones as hard as he could. “Marcus… Come along, Marcus… It's not doin' ya any daisy standin' hair like a stuck pig. It was proll-” Marcus didn’t like that. As Hoctor reached out to touch his shoulder Marcus shrugged it away, looking furious at the merchant, who backed away almost as soon as the two made eye contact. Marcus dropped the bones at his feet, before moving in on the dry goods store clerk, intimidating the far shorter and far less muscular man. “‘Prolly’ what, Hoctor? Prolly animals, ‘s that what you were gunna say? Coz it wasn’t! Busted vase, drawers rummaged, there was a struggle, Hoctor! I swear it on my life, he was flat out murdered!” The Madsnake didn’t like that, but he knew he could work with it. He stepped forward, and Marcus turned on him instantly, giving Hoctor the break he needed to duck back into the crowd. He blended in seamlessly, and it looked as if Marcus didn’t even mind. The Madsnake cut off Abbey, who was forced to stumble back and lean against the door, as she was left alone, weak and scared. “Marcus, I was near the salvage yard yesterday. I was attacked by people I believe to be raiders, Abbey was forced to clean me off. It may have been them that killed him.” “Oh? Ya think so? They di’n’t take a damn thing from his home! Salvage yard was damn near untouched! It was a murder, not some raid or plunderin’! An’ what about the fact he ain’t got a lick of flesh on him, Thomas!?” The Madsnake was forced to hold out a hand and stop Marcus, who marched up to get in his face. The angered leader of the town was set off more by this, but he knew it wasn’t worth a fight at least. He backed down, grumbling under his breath as he tried to keep a calm head. “Someone infiltrated the salvage yard and killed Eddy. It may have simply been thieves who he had caught, and they decided it would be in their best interest to kill him. After that they fled, fearing what could happen if caught, and ran into me. Who is to say that hounds did not sniff Eddy out later in the day or at night and proceed to eat him?” Marcus didn’t like that he was being presented with logic. He felt something was wrong, he just couldn’t pinpoint it, but many others were convinced. It wasn’t until Abbey rushed back to the Madsnake’s side that people started to voice it, perhaps believing her action was showing off that she supported the idea of thieves and beasts. Abigail was among the more revered in the town to do so, and her endorsement won over much of the crowd. Marcus was comforted, and taken back to the outpost to rest. One of the townsfolk scooped up the bones, and left with a few others, to do what the Madsnake assumed was gathering up the rest of the bones and prepare for another burial. Vernon and Eddy had both died now, and the town was feeling the lack of protection. If the mercenaries had kept out raiders and monsters, who knew how long the town would last without them? The Madsnake watched the town for the rest of the day, revelling in the somber feeling that hung over the town like a great shadow. Hoctor and Eliza remained in the dry goods store, and the farmers didn’t even go to their work. The only people who worked were the salvagers, who were cleaning up Eddy’s properties and gathering all of his remains. To think they worked like that while no one else did was almost comedic in the Madsnakes eyes. He didn’t do too much other than wander, looking lost to the others; they assumed simply that he had no reason to be as affected as the others. Much like the local caravan merchants, he barely new Eddy, why would he be utterly broken by his death like so many others? The only person who couldn’t accept it was Abbey, who addressed it as soon as the Madsnake returned home later in the night. “Thomas… I don’t understand you. Ya come off as this lovely man… A good-hearted sorta person… Then when ya see Vernon killed… Eddy’s remains… You look like ya don’t even give a crap. Why?” The Madsnake had barely made it through the door. She saw him from the kitchen, and she couldn’t hold back the need to call him out, not for a second. She had bright red eyes, and it was obvious she’d been crying for some time. The Madsnake walked into the kitchen, patting her on the head softly and getting down to her level, looking in her eyes. She looked back, sobbing. “I see enough death out in the wasteland that I have learnt to accept it is an inevitability. It is sad to say, but I understand your feeling. It hurts, but there is no purpose in weeping over what is natural to all things. Death comes like the sun, and it is as fundamental as eating. There is no need to be so saddened, Abbey.” It didn’t do her any good. She leapt on him, hugging him around the neck as he hugged her back. He could string together all the fancy words he wanted to, but Abbey simply didn’t comprehend what he was trying to convey, and she never would. She was immature and brash and she only understood death as something that took away loved ones. The Madsnake gave her a soft pat on the head, as she cried into his shoulder. She didn’t stop for nearly an hour, at which time she’d cried herself to sleep. The Madsnake picked her up and carried her to her bed, laying her down and laying with her. The town was broken at its core, and without help. He had the pick of anyone he wanted. He was going to be hungry tomorrow, he knew it. He wanted to give in again. He thought on what he could do, how he could do it. He thought of what it had been like to peel Eddy’s flesh from his bones, and relished the fact that he could do it again. He hadn’t ever been in a position like this. It was something he was going to take absolute advantage of. |
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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 27 2016, 10:01 AM Post #18 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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The next morning came soon for the Madsnake. He was sitting up in the bed and felt Abbey’s arms over his chest, trying to cling to him in her sleeping state, and he pulled away with little effort. She lay sprawled out across the bed, and he pulled the blanket up over her to hide her dignity. He got dressed, heading into the kitchen and dipping his face in the resident bucket of warm water. He ran his hands down his face, along his jaw, and groaned. He looked up and felt a wave over him, as if he’d only just properly realised what he’d done. Eddy, a man he had come to know even if not well and a man who had eased his mind, unknowingly, and had given the Madsnake a sort of peace. For a moment, he wondered if he’d done something horrid. Really? You have to ask questions about that? Gonna just ask yourself if what you did was wrong, can’t figure it out for yourself? Aren’t you better than that? Shut up! Stupid shit! The Madsnake stood up, walking back into Abbey’s room and reaching into his bag. He wanted to go for a walk, and he wanted to go for one safely; he grabbed the knife out of his bag, ignoring the chips that covered the blade, and tucked it into his belt. He wouldn’t be the only person in town with a weapon on show today, so he saw no problem. He made his way to the front door, and felt a shiver rush up his spine as he grabbed the door handle. He couldn’t tell what the problem was, but he felt wrong. It wasn’t the sort of thing he felt with the voices, it was different. It was familiar, but he couldn’t remember from where. Fucking worthless! The Madsnake pushed the door open and was welcomed by a crisp cold breeze. It wasn’t exactly freezing, but it was cooler than day, and it hit him hard; he was only in rag pants and a vest after all, and none of it had any sort of fur or true insulator. He was cold, and he felt another shiver up his spine. He looked up, and couldn’t see the sun anywhere, and barely saw the light of day just beyond the horizon. It was early morning, and the Madsnake was awake before the sun for the first time in a decent while. He would have been alone too, if not for the figure standing by the well, lowering a long stretch of rope down into the depths. Eliza looked up, caught off guard but not exactly alarmed to see the Madsnake staring back at her. “Oh, Thomas. Good, I was afraid Abigail was going to try and get another early start on the farm… She’s gonna work herself to the grave, swear… What’re you doing up so early?” The Madsnake didn’t really have an answer. The fact was he wasn’t sure, he didn’t tend to operate on purpose, he simply followed instincts as any beast in the wild did; that’s why they tended to survive over the likes of wastelanders and other humans, without the need for tools or weapons. The Madsnake shook his head, unable to give her a reason. “I do not know, Eliza. I woke, and I entered the world again, and I was left here. I simply do as I feel should be done and that never means I can explain them, and I have no reason to in the end.” Eliza stopped, her hands holding onto the rope as she looked at the Madsnake, a quizzical expression across her face. She hadn’t met anyone quite like him, and few people in the town had. He came off as something that didn’t fit, an odd one out in a world filled with odd people in the first place. Still, in the end he was a familiar figure to all of them. To Eliza, he was a familiar reminder of the folk that came into town and scared people, the ones who bought goods from Hoctor and were gone within the hour, and who left the people talking about the fear that had been left. Some of those folk did it with their guns, some with their words. For Eliza, the Madsnake did it with his eyes. She looked away, lowering the rope, and the Madsnake heard a faint pop as a bucket at the end of the rope entered the water. She stayed silent for a while, before pulling the bucket back up. The Madsnake moved over to help her, and the two of them pulled the bucket back up in no time. She reached for it and lowered it down, looking up at the Madsnake again and sighed, shaking her head. “I’ll be honest, Thomas, I don’t trust you too much… You’re a stranger, and I never like to trust strangers. But you seem like a good person, you’ve worked hard to help Otriad. Marcus is worried you’re something more than you seem, but I don’t wanna believe it, not right now. We need to trust that the man who helped liberate this town is a good one. You are, aren’t… No, you know what, don’t answer. It… It’ll be easier if I just tell myself you are. Just, Thomas, be careful around Marcus. He’s… he’s losing it.” With that, Eliza made her way back to the public building, and the Madsnake was left alone in a dimly lit world. He looked around and saw a small light turn on in Hoctor’s Dry Goods, and it was clear he wasn’t the only one wandering around in a morning daze. He let his brain wander, and almost instantly, he knew he should have regretted it. Are you going to go to the salvage yard again? Those two men went that way to clean up Eddy’s home, remember? They’re all alone out there, probably scared, do you think something will happen? Hm, Daniel? The Madsnake looked over to the road, and he felt justified for the first time in a while. The Madsnake made his way over to the all too familiar road, and looked over to the salvage yard within his view; it was lit up, or at least looked it. There was a glow above the yard, and a light just outside the main gate, and the Madsnake could just barely see a small pile of goods left by it. By the looks of things, they were clearing out Eddy’s place with an incredible haste, and likely it was done to benefit the salvagers themselves, but the fact was he had no idea. As he grew closer, the Madsnake saw one of the men walk out and dump a small box of random junk out, wiping his brow of sweat before spotting the Madsnake. He smiled and waved, taking a seat on the hood of a car just behind him. The Madsnake stopped once he was at the gate, and looked to the pile of junk out front. “Thomas, ‘s nice ta see ya, brother. How’s the morn’ been treatin’ ya? Dandy, I’d ‘ope.” The Madsnake recognised a lot of what was in the pile. An empty bottle of glue, a roll of tape, some ceramics, and much more of the goods within Eddy’s home. He looked to the young man sitting across from him, a peculiar smile across his face. “The morning has treated me as a morning. I would be no different during the day.” The man nodded, a little offended by the Madsnakes attitude but brushing it off like it was nothing nonetheless. He looked into the salvage yard, sighing and patting his neck down with a rag, wiping away as much sweat as possible. Only looking around now could the Madsnake see how much work they’d done, moving cars and scraps in order to produce a proper pathway through the yard, rather than Eddy’s tunnels and trenches. It made the whole place feel as if it was without character, which was strange in itself. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout the mess Eddy made. He… the dude was cool, but like, he di’n’t get it, y’know? He was a loon, ‘ven if he was a good guy. We’re gonna turn the yard into somethin’ profitable. ‘S been a while since it was.” The Madsnake thought it was strange that the drug-addled man who once inhabited the salvage yard had been in control for so long, especially if the yard itself was failing to bring any major benefit to the town. The salvager out front seemed to not really think about it, as he leant back and took the time to really relax. He sighed again, reaching down and grabbing a bottle of brown water from his pocket, sculling the whole bottle within a few seconds. With that he sat up, and looked Thomas up and down, smirking. “You wanna help the clean out? Marty’s already in, so we just gotta lend a hand.” The Madsnake looked at the young scrapper, and smiled, nodding. The two of them made their way through the yard, and the Madsnake had his eyes on everything around him, from the busted up cars that had been lifted up onto their sides, knocked over, or simple torn to pieces, to all the other scraps that seemed to form much larger piles than before. The only thing the Madsnake could see that was the same was the Boudica-78/S, which sat comfortably in the same spot it had before Eddy’s passing. The Madsnake ran a hand over it, admiring the state it was in just as he had before, almost feeling ashamed that he’d robbed Eddy the chance to try it out on the open road. Almost. The Madsnake saw the metal shack come into view, and watched as a stockier young man stood outside of it, piling up boxes upon boxes. They were gutting the place, and in reality it seemed rather fitting. In part because Eddy was gone and it was good to move on fast, but also because of course Eddy had been gutted quite successfully. Why not do the same to his establishment? Marty looked over and waved, stretching as his partner walked over, the two of them working to haul out a large desk from Eddy’s home. The Madsnake walked in, looking around and already feeling as if it was different, the only similarity being the bed, the television, radio, and of course, the stains of blood that covered the front of the house. The Madsnake held back a smile, grabbing one of the already filled boxes and handing it to Marty, who had come back in. “Jus’ you and me, Thom. Shawn’s gone back out fron’ to keep watch. You wanna han-” The Madsnake hadn’t even had a moment to second guess himself. He pulled out his knife and spun as he dropped the box of miscellaneous goods, burying the dulled blade deep into Marty’s neck. The man pulled away, but the Madsnake moved too fast for him, slashing as his neck three more times. Marty fell to the floor, coughing and spluttering, as the Madsnake moved over and grabbed the heavy metal drawer off of the floor, still filled with everything from scrunched up paper to glass bottles, and lifted it high over his head. Marty tried to scream, but by the time he was able to make a recognisable noise, the drawer was being smashed into his head over and over again, the motion only stopping when the Madsnake saw the red stain left in place of a head. It wasn’t long before Shawn, the salvager out front of the yard, returned to the hastily built hut that had once been a house. By the time he was inside, having called for Marty for far too long, he bore witness to the Madsnake, his head buried against his friends chest. When Shawn made a noise, the Madsnake looked up, his eyes filled with hunger and lust, his jaw covered in blood and gore. The salvager felt weak at the knees, and he couldn’t fight the feeling as he gave in and hurled all over the floor. He fell to his knees, looking up only to see a great horror before him, as the Madsnake, coated in blood and gore, rushed at him. Shawn bolted into the scrapyard, and he was followed by a knife wielding cannibal. The scrap and salvage turned into a maze as they wandered into an untouched area, and the two of them were left to wander and bumble until they found each other, but that didn’t remove the fear and the fury from them. Shawn recognised some areas, and it helped him navigate, but the Madsnake was fast and hungry and broken, and he had no reason to be slow. Soon, the former had to give in and try to ascend the scrap heaps, knowing it could be his only escape. He climbed up a tower of rusted out cars, trying to keep his weight steady, but it wasn’t too long before it all backfired, and he and the tower came crashing down. The sound carried as far as Otriad. Shawn lay on the ground, his body just barely saved from being crushed, but his left leg was broken and he was in agony. When he looked behind him he saw a path back to the house, and he had to climb to his feet to try and make it there, limping with every step, wincing and bemoaning his fate. The Madsnake emerged in front of him from the scrap tunnels, and there was nowhere the salvager could go in his state. With little effort the Madsnake fought him down, and plunged his blade into the man's neck over and over and over, only stopping when what was left in its place was a gory red hole. The Madsnake stood up, grabbing the corpse by its arm and dragging it back into the house. He didn’t notice the head as it detatched, but he didn’t care either. He had his meal, and it was time for him to have yet another feast, and let Otriad repay all he had done for it. The door to Eddy’s house was shut behind him, and he made his way into his meal. By the time the Madsnake returned to Otriad, the sun was far into the sky. There were people living and working, but there was an aura or confusion, and it was only carried further when the Madsnake returned from the direction of the salvage yard, blood on his hands. He looked around, worried, as if he was confused. It was one of the merchants who came up to him, leaving there stall. “Thomas, boy, what happened to ya?” He shook his head, panting, his bloodied knife tucked into his belt, still dripping. "Animals… there were more animals at the salvage yard… they killed… Shawn, and Marty… I tried to stop them, but..." A small crowd had already gathered, comprised of barely five people, but it was enough to cause a stir. Soon, the whole town was gathered, and there was fear and confusion once again. The natural order of things. |
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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 28 2016, 07:47 AM Post #19 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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“I’ve had it, this aint just monsters no more! We gonna believe a pack of dogs returned to the scrap heap and took out those two? Without nary a sound?!” The crowd was clinging to Marcus, as he roared in fury about the news. He had broken through the crowd to speak to the Madsnake, and was given the same thing he’d said to everyone else that asked; supposedly, the Madsnake saw some monsters, and tried to fight them off, only to fail and force the creatures to bolt back into the wastes. As far as Marcus was concerned, it was a load of hogwash. He divided the town, as he stood up on the side of the well and bellowed. “I’m done believing this stranger, fallin’ for his words! ‘Member what he said ‘bout Eddy? He saw some raiders, then said some wolves must’a eaten the corpse, it di’n’t work then and it ain’t workin’ now! I’m done with you, Thomas! I dunno if you’re tryin’ to undermine the town or what, but I want you gone!” It wasn’t hard to guess how the town was split at this point. Abbey, Abigail and Eliza stood by the Madsnake, because even if they didn’t trust him, the fact was that he had fought hard to save the town from utter collapse. He almost single-handedly pushed out the mercenaries, and eliminated the threat to the city that was Edward Shanks. Marcus had complained, he had whined, and some felt he had ended up even causing the death of Vernon due to his plotting and scheming. Along with the family that had been keeping the Madsnake, as well as the town’s doctor, the merchants were standing by him, and it made the opposition look utterly outdone. A red-faced Marcus was flanked by three old farmers, all arguing with those on the Madsnakes side. Hoctor was there too, but he was substantially more silent, and clearly considering all that being said. He stared at the Madsnake, and he weighed what had happened in the past week side by side, and he simply shook his head, unable to figure anything out. So much had changed since the stranger's arrival, but it was both for good and for bad. He was left conflicted, and fuelled by inconsistencies, before finally the argument was shut down by Marcus, who roared over the others. “I saw his eyes! Look at him! He’s not right for this town, tha’s a fact! He’s just ‘nother wanderer, and he and we got lucky, ain’t anythin’ more than that! How can y’all stand by him and risk the safety of this town?!” “Marcus, shut up! You’re not saying anything sensible. You’re calling him a stranger, a wanderer, and he is those things, but that didn’t matter when we employed him to help with Shanks, or to get rid of the mercenaries, both of which he played a huge role in. You’re going to push him out of Otriad just coz, what, you feel uncomfortable having a stranger in your town after some mysterious deaths? There’s two other strangers here, Marcus, not to mention a herd of soldiers who know where we are and have a grudge.” “Nothin’ yer sayin’ makes sense, Marc. You want one stranger to leave, ya gotta ask us all to leave.” Eliza finished and was followed up almost immediately by one of the two caravan merchants in the town, who she had both referred to and had used as an argumentative device. The fact was she was right, the Madsnake wasn’t the only stranger in the town. The difference was that he knew the last three deaths in the town had been his doing; neither she nor the merchants did. It was just fortunate for him that they were so willing to support him, despite the fact he was entirely and absolutely in the wrong. It was beneficial, it seemed, to not get on everyone's bad side, but even then folk were seeing through him. Or the Madsnake was dealing with bigots, he couldn’t quite tell, and he didn’t really care when it came down to it. “No, ah... Ah got sumthin' ta say, listen uhp. This man, 'es a straynger t' us, an 'e's helped us. That says a lot for 'im, but thuh fuact is that this is thuh wasteland, eend we don't know ifin' 'e's usin' us or not. 'E's an unknown. We kayun't do anythin' until we know mowr... Marcus, kayun ah mayuk a suggestion?” Marcus looked at Hoctor, shaking his head angrily, before nodding reluctantly. This whole situation needed to be sorted, but it didn’t look like anyone but Hoctor had any clue on how to do that. “Thomas, ya need t' stay in burg. We're gonna see how thin's gitty-up. Marcus, ifin' another feller dies by this taahm tamarr, ya kayun do what ya wanna Thomas. That's how ah fill. Thair's not much else we kayun do, is thair?” The crowd was reluctant to accept this idea; to most of them it just seemed flawed, as if it was the Madsnake committing these crimes, he could run, or he could avoid it, or he could target Marcus himself. It didn’t make sense to accept these sort of terms, and even Abigail found it a bit far fetched. For that reason, there was an oddly explosive murmur through the crowd as Marcus nodded in agreement. He looked down at the Madsnake, stepping off of the well and walking up to the stranger in his town. “Thomas, if’n we catch you doin’ anythin’ odd, I’ll bring you down myself. If someone’s harmed, at all, tonight or tomorrow, I’ll put a bullet in yer brain. You’re scrap, and I’m gonna expose you to all o’ these idiots. I promise it.” With that he stormed off to the outpost, and the Madsnake was left with just Abigail and Eliza a few minutes later. People returned to their stores, others to their work, and Abbey to her room. It was time for some serious discussion, at least according to the elderly farmer of the town. She looked confused, and Eliza simply looked tired. The Madsnake waited for one of them to speak. “Marcus is losin’ it.” “Yeah… I can’t say I’m surprised, though. This whole situation is just abysmal, and I feel like he’s doing all the wrong things. I saw him wandering around earlier today… Just like you were, Thomas. The difference was that you spoke to me when I did to you. He seemed… disconnected, like he was distracted, but there was nothing to be caught up by. I’m worried about him.” Abigail nodded, and it was clear Eliza was on the verge of tears. She couldn’t handle seeing her new home, the home she had worked so hard to come to and so hard to provide for, come crumbling down like this. First Vernon, then Eddy, now Marty and Shawn, and it looked like Marcus or Thomas would be next. She didn’t even want to think about it. The Madsnake would have hugged her had he known it was the right thing to do at the time, and as Abigail pulled her in close he realised it must have been. The elderly farmer looked at the man she knew as Thomas, sighing and shaking her head. “You gotta do somethin’, Thomas. This town… it won't handle itself, not much longer. But… if’n’ you leave tonight, I’ll support that choice.” The Madsnake simply nodded, as Abigail and Eliza left for the town house, and he was alone in the town's centre. The town was falling apart, and the chaos was clear to see. It would be a fun week. |
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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 29 2016, 11:20 AM Post #20 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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Night came like a blanket over the town, after another cold and tragic day. It was different to other days though, as more than just morale was broken. It felt like the very idea of Otriad was in question, as people were divided like never before. It wasn’t silent, people could be heard talking in the common house, and even in the Dry Goods store. As the Madsnake entered his residence, he could tell that Abigail, standing in her kitchen, was at least glad she was old enough to earn her own private residence. She knew she would be arguing all night if she was in the common house. As she heard the Madsnake she smiled, looking over to him and sitting at the kitchens table, her hands covered in dirt and water as she washed some of the fresher vegetables she had hand-picked from the farmlands. “It’s been a hard week… I’m sorry you’ve had to be involved ‘n all of this, Thomas. Weren’t nothin’ to do with you, but you were put into it, and now… ‘nd now this. It ain’t right, I’ll say that until I’m blue in the face, but it most assuredly is not right. Marcus, he’s loose in the head, I fear he’ll be the vision of the downfall of this town now… and then, the Lord rained on Sodom and Gomorrah, and fire came from the Lord out of heaven… only difference now is Marcus is the lord, and Otriad is Sodom and Gomorrah… ‘spose at least they had a legacy left behind.” The Madsnake had no idea what she was talking about in reference to ‘Sodom and Gomorrah’ but he understood the idea of the Lord, and he understood that Abigail was wholly expecting the town to crumble now. It was, that was a certainty at this point; the town was without structure, without protection, without trust, and without hope. Marcus could try all he wanted, but he would never be seen as a man worthy of running a town; some saw him as the man who caused the death of Marcus, and others saw him as a brute with anger issues. Abigail was old and opinionated, and no one else could possibly take the reigns of running a town such as this. Abigail looked the Madsnake up and down and shook her head. She simply gestured to the homemade sink, which had in it a wooden bucket filled with water. He walked over and dunked his hands into the bucket, grabbing a rag off of the counter and wetting it, washing off the other blood and gore form his form. He pulled out his knife and did the same to it, though a fair amount had already dried at this point. He tucked the blade back into his belt, before turning to face Abigail, still on her chair, back to him. It wouldn’t even be a challenge to put her down right now; a single and swift slash across the throat, and she’d be done for. The problem with that though was she was hardly a full meal, and she wasn’t worth it in the end. She was on his side and he couldn’t suffer another death, not tonight. “D’ya really say it’s hounds ’nd raiders and such, Thomas?” The Madsnake walked around the table, nodding at the old lady. She seemed unsure, she seemed worried and she seemed scared. She shook her head, unsure if she could believe what she was hearing. If it was raiders that meant the town was doomed no matter what, and if beasts were making the most of the food source Otriad provided they’d have an uphill battle in trying to purge the pests. Perhaps it was easier to believe these were murders, but to believe they were ‘Thomas’ was too much for the elderly farmer. The Madsnake didn’t see into any of the issues she considered, and he simply sat at the table across from her. It was as he sat that something suddenly clicked in his head, and all the pieces of his time in Otriad fell perfectly together, locking in as if by some stroke of other worldly craft. He leant in, and tapped the table to catch her attention. He had a look of purpose on his face. “I have seen lights within the woodlands, just on the other side of the river bed. It may be possible that whoever is committing these murders is located there; it is a safe distance from the town proper, and yet it provides a crisp view of the town, the inhabitants, and their daily routes.” Abigail at first seemed nonplussed, but as the seconds passed she was awoken and stirred and blown up by the idea of figuring all of this out. If it was a group of strangers that was committing these heinous acts, then the whole town would be back to normal, at least that is how she reckoned it. She bolted out of her seat and ran out of the house. The Madsnake was surprised, and a bit confounded; surely that wasn’t the best thing to do, but then again he couldn’t think of how chatting about the issue would prove helpful. He made his way to the door and out of the house, only to see Abigail rushing to the common house. She yanked the door open, and the Madsnake could hear some yelling from her and others. Soon, three people rushed out behind her, while others flocked around the doorway, backlit by a glow within the room. Everyone was turned to look in the direction of something, and the Madsnake wandered out to see, much to his delight, the dull glow of a fire within the woods. The junkies were still there, and unknowingly saved him. Abigail and the others rushed to the common house, before someone came back out and ran into the Dry Goods store, coming out a few minutes later followed by a tired Hoctor. The Madsnake remained outside, enjoying the chill of the cool night. He could hear someone walking around in Abigail’s home, but he knew it was just Abbey, likely waking to get herself a drink or something to eat. The Madsnake simply waited on his own and in silence, watching the fire flickering over the river's side. Finally, after about an hour in the cold air, the door opened again, and the Madsnake was greeted by five people coming out, led by Abigail and Hoctor. The party made their way over to him, and stopped and surrounded him. “Thomas, we cannot agree, you’re goin’ to take the place of a judge. We’ve two options given, and we need one; Hoctor, and few others, feel it’d be best to strike the strangers camp before sun up. Others side by me, that we ought take the fight out of our hands. Them mercenaries ain’t far, we can pay them what they were promised, if’n they help us eliminate the threat. ‘S your choice to make, Thomas.” The Madsnake was surprised, but he didn’t wait to respond. He looked Abigail dead in the eyes, and nodded to her. “It is best to employ the mercenaries to do the job. If any other option was taken, it would end in failure.” With that, the discussion was done. The party returned to the common home, and the Madsnake was again left to his own devices, but this time he had a goal to put into action. He returned to Abigail’s home, moving too fast for Abbey to even notice him in her dull sleepy state. The Madsnake grabbed from his pack a wrapped up object, and rushed across the riverbed, out of anyone’s sight, assuming anyone was even out. He clambered up the side of the incline, and slowed as he came to the group of junkies, all asleep in their drug addled stupors. It looked as if a few were dead, but they could likely be simply comatose by the drugs. He couldn’t see if any were left, and he didn’t bother to find out. He simply left the wrapped up package by them, and made his way back down into the town proper, slipping in just after a few people made their way from the common home, Abigail heading back to her house alone. She looked up at him and smiled softly. “Hoctor, Jameson and Tyrik are heading off to the west. Last they were seen, the mercenaries are that way, so the hopin’ is that they’ll be met by mornin’ and the group will be back in town. We’ll give them what Shanks promised, and we’ll finally be set without any sorta shadows over our heads. We’ll be all done and dusted, for good and finally, tha’s a promise for Otriad.” The Madsnake nodded, before thinking of something that so far seemed to have been forgotten. “Where is Marcus in all of this?” |
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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 31 2016, 02:24 AM Post #21 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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The town waited almost a full day. People who would normally be working were silent and sat in the middle of the town, some playing cards, a few playing a board game that the Madsnake had been in possession of for a while. Abigail wandered amongst them, handing out vegetables and water to each of them as the day grew on. People started to think that they had been bested; the entourage sent to meet with the mercenaries was likely shot on sight, seen as nothing more than wasters not worth the time or effort it would take to meet with them. A few people wandered into the common house, and one made his way out to the farmland. With that, only Abigail and the Madsnake were left, quiet and alone. “What the fuck is goin’ on?!” Abigail spun, and saw from the road a man dressed in a trench coat in tatters, boots stomping on the concrete and the dirt, and in his hand his .32 pistol, rusted around the barrel and with a replaced grip. He looked ready to kill someone, and with that gun in his grip it was very likely that was his plan. He was nearly upon Abigail before he spotted the Madsnake in the corner of his eye, and pulled his arm up to aim directly at the tall, strange wastelander. The Madsnake didn’t hesitate to move, calmly walking closer to Marcus until the angry self-appointed mayor fired a shot past his head. The Madsnake stopped, and saw behind Marcus the door to the common room open as people came out. Marcus spun on the spot, his gun pointed directly at his own friends and family of the town. He gasped, flustered, before dropping the gun, his hands shaking as he staggered in place. No one came to him, as he fell back, just barely landing on the well side. Eliza was in the group, and she looked as heartbroken as she was irate. The crowd wasn’t happy with Marcus and hadn’t been for a while, and this was well past the last straw. He shuddered, and the crowd came out, but before anyone could say or do anything they began to hear the sound of heavy clothing, armour scraping together, and then a shotgun being cocked. They heard them before they saw them, and a mixture of dread and joy ran through Otriad. Hoctor was the first to enter the town proper, followed by Jameson and Tyrik, who themselves were flanked by a pair of mercenaries, cradling hunting rifles in their arms. Behind them, with a gas tank on her back and a great horrid tube in her hands, came Captain Lisa, personally present to take part in whatever it was the group had been told they were employed for. The Madsnake didn’t move when the group came into the town, but everyone else did, carving a path for Lisa and her goons, led only now by Hoctor, who seemed more than a little nervous. He took them to the spot that Abigail had been in not twenty-four hours earlier, to look up and see just where their target was. He pointed, and Lisa came over to talk with him, just quiet enough that no one could hear. Then, she and her men moved out, around the river and into the undergrowth, out of sight of the townspeople. Hoctor turned and met the gaze of twelve eyes, and he sighed. “Thay're goin' t' tayk out thuh junkies. Said thay'll monitor thuh situation an git thuh job done, Ah didn't ask anythin' mowr." That was all people needed, and soon the town seemed to flow back into its usual format. The farmers moved out to the crops, the merchants set up their stalls near the Dry Goods store, which was open for business, and the Madsnake was again left to his own vices. That was until he was approached by Eliza, who pulled him aside without any consideration of his consent. She pushed him up against a wall, out of everyone’s sight, and ran her hands over her face. She didn’t look like she expected to get this far. She looked up at him, shaking her head and groaning under her breath. It took her some time to compose herself, but the Madsnake was willing to wait. “If Marcus does anything like that again… if he pulls a gun on people, you included, make sure you do something about it. I spoke to Hoctor, he’s agreed. If Marcus tries that sort of thing again we’re going to do whatever we can to stop him… Even if it means… killing him…” The Madsnake nodded. Eliza was taken aback, and admittedly a little bit mad at both him and at herself, but she was comfortable now knowing that he was on their side about the issue. She was a bit anxious, but she left without another word, making her way over to Marcus who was still laying by the well. It looked like he needed some actual medical attention, and she was good for being willing to give it to him. The Madsnake knew that were it him in her position, he wouldn’t bother with Marcus for a moment. In a strange way, the Madsnake was able to respect her for her diligence and her demeanour; she seemed far more brave than anyone else in the town, that much was obvious. Her only problem was that she could let fear overcome her. Everyone here was weak to that sort of thing. Despite everything that had happened, only one thing really made the Madsnake anything other than complacent; seeing his Kuru board-game left sprawled out in the dust. He wandered over, picking it all up piece by piece and sliding the game back into its box, before carrying the now full box back to his bag in the Abigail home. He tucked it into his bag, and after a moment of hesitation, did the same thing with his knife, tucking it into one of the straps of his rucksack. The bag was less full than it had been before, but it still wasn’t something that looked small. A box of ‘Sugar Bombs,’ around 50oz of tea, a board game, a bone, scraps, even without the chunk of meat in it and the hide, it still looked packed. The knife, bat and water bottle hanging off of it probably didn’t help. The Madsnake looked over to the bed, surprised to see Abbey still laying on it tiredly. She slept long for someone in her position, and it was clear she wasn’t fit for the manners of this town. He was reminded of another young girl he had led away from her home for brighter pastures, and the chain of events that had followed. Even to this day he wondered if that had been a bigger moment than it first seemed, but the reality was that it was irrelevant now. The deed was done, and there was nothing more to say on the matter. The Madsnake stood up, and left the house, his mind stuck on Abbey and her loneliness in that room, that house that her mother only came to at the end of the day, after any sort of stranger or beast could have wandered in. Some beast could even be found next to her, laying in the very same bed as her. Cut her! Kill her! Throat slash! Head crushed! A gunshot rang out over the town, and everything stopped for a moment. The only people in the town center, the caravan merchants, looked over to the sound of the gunshot, both worried that it hadn’t come from the supposed location of the junkies. Another shot filled the area, and then two more. There was a long and painful silence, and the Madsnake was cautious as he walked out to the front of the town, looking up the road. He saw one of the mercenaries on the road, rubbing his head and kicking a large corpse at his feet. The man looked down the road at the Madsnake, a few hundred meters away, and gave a thumbs up. Whatever had attacked hadn’t been a major threat, and the team was okay. The Madsnake felt a little nervous at their eagerness on the trigger, but he returned to the town, nodding at the merchants and the few others who had come to investigate. The town was still on-edge. It was clear when looking just at who come out to see what was going on, because unlike before it wasn’t the town’s resident carers in Hoctor and Eliza, but it was the folk who so rarely were involved, the common people of the town. Everyone was nervous. The Madsnake didn’t even notice that the merchants weren’t entirely set up; half of their wares remained in the caravans and upon their brahmin, as if they were prepared to leave the town at a moment’s notice. It was something that Eliza had noticed, but she’d dared not to bring up to the town, lest it break morale even further, and remove any hope of having faith ever again. The town needed to stay together, and despite being weak, it was still together. It was united, and it needed to remain that way. The Madsnake shook his head, before wandering down the road again, this time towards the old salvage yard. He hadn’t been near it since the death of Shawn and Marty, and his inherent meals, and it was nice to wander again. The road was, as it had been, scattered with old rusted out cars, and the Madsnake could see the pile of old scrap from Eddy’s home still out front of the yard, though it looked as if people had looted it not long ago. The Madsnake understood that well enough, people needed goods to sell and this place was full of them. He wasn’t going to criticise people who tried to survive, he was just like them. The difference was he earned his survival, while they scrounged for it. He was, for all intents and purposes, their superior, and he liked to think he knew that as a fact. The yard itself was very much the same as before; towers of cars and scrap, some of them knocked down to make it possible to traverse the maze built by Eddy over the years. Old Chevrolets, Fords, and utility vehicles filled the yard, while countless other unknown pieces of metal and scrap filled the gaps. It was hard to imagine anyone, even Eddy, had been able to know what any of these things were at any point in time. He made his way through the debris and junk, scanning antique cars and trucks and all sorts of wonderfully unique things, before his eyes finally set on the one thing he’d considered of any value in this entire junkyard, the very same thing Eddy had known the value of, and the only thing the Madsnake was sure of. A Boudicca-78/S, in mint condition, albeit coated in dust. He moved over to it, running his hands up and down the gas tank, tapping it a few times and listening to the emptiness within. Eddy had worked on this for some time it seemed, replacing necessary parts and even giving it new tires, but it was odd that he had never managed to find even a drop of fuel for the wondrous machine. The Madsnake looked around, spotting the door to Eddy’s house and entering without bothering to check if anyone else was in, which to his fortune no one was. So much of the room had changed since he first entered it was almost not the same; lacking in much of the junk, and coated in quite a bit of blood, the room almost looked like something a raider would settle in. In all likelihood, within the coming months, raiders would come to settle here and in Otriad Proper. It would be sad, if it hadn’t been inevitable for a while before the Madsnake arrived. Despite its emptiness, it still hosted a number of key objects, such as the bed, radio, and TV, and the Madsnake spotted under the bed a small crate, long and straight. A footlocker, that wasn’t locked. He pulled it out and opened it, pawing through the goods therein. The most impressive object in the box was a gun, one that Eddy seemed to have made himself. Pipe weapons were common, but rarely looked good, yet Eddy had made his look good. A unique paint job, as well as clean metal in good condition, and even a comfortable handle and grip. It would almost be worth taking, if the Madsnake favoured firearms. It was worth quite a bit though, or at least it looked like it was, so the Madsnake left the idea of taking it sit in the back of his mind. Other than that, a few comics, some weed, and a small set of keys, with what looked like a bottle of Nuka-Cola attached as a keyring. Why he’d need a keyring in a world where keys tend to be fairly useless was anyones guess, but the Madsnake grabbed them happily, sure that these were the keys to the Boudicca. However, he had found no fuel, and it made the keys themselves fairly useless. He sighed, looking around the room again in some vain hope. There were a few oil canisters, but they had holes in them and were clearly empty. Aside from those, rusted oilcans could be seen on a few shelves, but again the rust and age had made them entirely useless. Reluctantly, the Madsnake took the keys out of his pocket and tossed them onto the bed, a little deflated but mostly nonplussed. The bike was nice, and would have made an excellent ride, but the fact was that if Eddy wasn’t near prepared to use it, the Madsnake had no chance. He shut the door behind him as he left, looking up at the lit sky and pausing to think. Whatever plans he might have had, if he had any plans at all, were well and truly ruined at this point. The quickest way out of town was the same way he’d come in, with the mercenaries occupying the only direction that wasn’t pure desert or the city of Austin. Without a ride, he didn’t have much choice but to wait until the town came crashing down around itself. He’d get through that, there was no question, but the waiting would be the death of him. Lazily and with a bit less of a skip in his step, the Madsnake returned to Otriad Proper. He had made a place for himself, and though it may have been carved in flesh and stained in blood, it was his place. He’d stay in it for as long as he had to. |
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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 31 2016, 09:22 AM Post #22 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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It was a long, slow, and quiet fourty-eight hours. The Madsnake had to sit by and let the days roll by, and in doing so he suffered, he hungered, he lusted. He found it hard to handle himself, knowing full well he couldn’t do anything with the mercenaries nearby, and that if he did he wouldn’t be able to pin it on the junkies anyway, not if they were being monitored. He checked every night, watching the light of the fire from the town center and hoping to see it extinguished, but two nights in a row he saw nothing. It had driven him up the wall, and he was almost at the point of getting the job done himself. The Madsnake wasn’t going to last any longer if they held off on the attack for another day, and he could tell some of the others saw it. The Madsnake had been called on to help out around the town, mostly near the outpost where he and some others could keep an eye on Marcus. Repairing the windows, setting up new sandbag defences, and ensuring the buildings shutters were locked down tight was the primary directive, though there were other things needing to be done. There was call to repair the steps for elderly or injured folk, as well as adding a ramp so that brahmin may transport goods into the outpost. Some also felt the frontal defense needed to be properly updated to suit the demands of a single guard, as opposed to a host of them, the reason being that one person is an easier to deal with target, and requires more appropriate fortifications. The Madsnake felt the entire action was a waste of time, knowing full well that it would take only a handful of raiders or wastelanders to turn Otriad into another part of the badlands. It didn’t matter what he felt though, all that mattered was that he maintained the trust people had in him. He simply did as he was asked, and spent a full day working on gathering soft sand for the bags, bricks for the walls, and scrap for the barricades. The days of pain came to an end though, and the voices were put to silence and the town was put on standby, when a gunshot filled the air all around them. Eyes turned to the knoll, and then more sounds came; another gunshot, some screams, another, people yelling and the sound of branches shaking, and then the land was put on mute in place of gunfire and the sound of a flaming gust of sizzling wind, and after a few minutes, the townspeople gathered around the well, waiting to find out what had happened. They could see figures in the treeline, foraging and riffling through objects on the floor. The soft crackle of fire was all that could be heard over the clomping of heavy boots and the rolling of bodies. Then, as if on command, the trio of figures moved out from the tree line, and slid down the hillside and into the riverbed, each of them with small satchels of goods over their shoulders or in their hands. As they came into the town's center, the Madsnake could not avoid the curious gaze of Lisa, as she and her men dropped the packages at the feet of the well. “This was everything of note we found with the junkies. Lots of drugs among them, most of them used too. Some weapons, and a chunk of non-descript meat. Anything else can be investigated by you in your own time. Now, the job’s done. We were promised payment.” Hoctor nodded, moving through the tightly packed group and ushering Lisa and her men over. As the three of them left, Lisa looked back at the Madsnake, and he did the same. There was something between them, and they both sensed it, but neither could tell what it was. The Madsnake was reminded of people he had no memory of, and he had this strange feeling where he could not see himself posed against her. This feeling between them, it felt as if they would cross paths again, and when they did it would likely be for the last time, and yet it would not be bad. The Madsnake was not a perceptive man, but all of this, for whatever reason, resonated in him. It might have been her eyes. She rounded the corner, and was out of sight, and with that the Madsnake was hurled back into the matters of the small town of Otriad. Eliza had a handful of syringes and inhalers in her hand, and she recognised them in a heartbeat. “They were on Jet, Med-X, this one… looks like a few of these were modified too. Can’t tell what sort of effect that must’ve had.” One of the merchants pulled up the chunk of meat, and looked at it carefully, before the other caravan merchant came up next to him and joined in. The Madsnake kept his eyes on them, as a few others pulled out the wide array of weapons that the junkies had been in possession of, surprised by what they were seeing. A homemade shotgun, a few knives, and a couple of old rusted pistols. No ammunition in any of them, and they were far from pristine, but they were weapons, and a weapon was still as good as its ability to work. The only people in town who owned weapons at this point weren’t exactly experts with them, aside from Marcus, and they needed to spread out the array of firepower to compensate for numerous weaknesses held by the aforementioned lack of skill. As they were handed out, one of the merchants gasped, and held the meat out, hesitating with it. He whispered to the other, and the man nodded, a look of disgust on his face. “This is human flesh.” The crowd turned to look at the two travelling merchants, then the meat, and then all at once they dispersed, as if to give the hunk of meat some space. Eliza especially was interested, looking at it before realising that the two of them were speaking honestly. The Madsnake noticed the silence, and decided to take advantage of the opportunity he was given, before being cut off almost instantly by Abigail, who had for the past few days been quite silent and withdrawn. “Why’d they have human flesh with ‘em? Trophies, food? Lord, di’n’t realise drugs had this sorta effect. Eliza, what’d’ya make o’this?” She simply nodded, seeming to agree that it was some sort of cannibalistic or decorative item. That alone turned the crowd, and the Madsnake was surprised that he hadn’t needed to say a word to convince them. He wondered if silence was best for him, and decided to stay the course, keeping his mouth shut as people kept going through the belongings of the now well despised junkies. After some time, and a few pocketed weapons, Jameson and Tyrik decided to head up to the overgrown high-ground that the junkies had taken residence in. The Madsnake contemplated following them, but knew it could look suspicious. He stayed where he was as the items of the junkies were laid out and pawed through, with Eliza meticulously studying the devices given to her, seemingly trying to get samples of whatever substances had been inside the syringes and inhalers. After some time she seemed to come to some sort of conclusion, because she swept them all into one of the bags attached to her belt, standing up and rushing off to the common house. With her, Hoctor, Abbey, and Tyrik and Jameson not present, the group felt substantially smaller, and the Madsnake realised he wouldn’t be missed. Heading to the Abigail home, he laid himself down next to Abbey, pleasantly comfortable. Though it was late in the day, this still felt like an early time to rest for him, but he didn’t bother to question it. Abbey had been asleep most of the day after spending time on the farm the day before, so the two of them would take the mantle of laziness left vacant by the rest of the town’s inhabitants. A truly noble cause. Kill her! Daniel, you’re awake? Later than usual, but you don’t mind that do you? No, you’ll be making the most of this; the town is busy, and you and dear young Abbey are alone together, aren’t you? You’d be able to kill her and escape before anyone noticed, but you’re not like that, are you? Skin her! Ruin her! The Madsnake was stirred into the waking world by a rumbling stomach, and was immediately thrown around his own mind by the sound of voices, familiar voices that he hated to welcome into his mind, but he was learning to not fight them. He looked at Abbey laying next to him, and didn’t move as she was roused to awakening. She rolled over and looked up at him, smiling and biting her lip. It had been some time since the two of them were awake and alone, and she knew it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him onto her, kissing him deeply and with an intense passion that he wasn’t used to, at least not like this. She held him close as he crawled onto her, his hands running up and down her sides, before he began to kiss down her cheek and to her neck. Rip her! He bit once, playfully, and she winced in arousal. He bit her again, this time harder, and she pushed against his shoulders, groaning for a moment as she prepared to voice her dislike. She wasn’t given the opportunity as the Madsnake pulled a hand up over her mouth and bit down again, ripping a chunk of flesh from her neck and causing her to scream out in agony, muffled by his hand. She had no idea what was going on, but she knew it wasn’t right, and she was utterly horrified. She lashed out, kicking him in the gut and managing to break way, rushing off of the bed and through the door, knowing there must be a weapon in the kitchen. Follow her! Maim her! The Madsnake stalked after her, pulling his knife out of his bag and lurching into the frame of the kitchen door, causing Abbey to spin and pant in fear, looking at him like she never had before. She hesitated, her hand resting by a wooden rolling pin. There was no moment of silence or peace between them, not anymore. She grabbed the rolling pin and rushed at him, her fingers slipping as she lunged forward, throwing the pin at the Madsnake and hitting him hard in the head, interrupting what would have been a gutting slash. The Madsnake snarled furiously, slashing at her only for her to hit his hand and by the grace of God knock the knife out of his hand. He had two hands free now, and he was quick to latch on to her right arm, her dominant arm, and force his knee onto her chest, pushing her to the floor while retaining his hold on her arm, one of his hands on hers, while the other was focused on the forearm. With one quick hard yank, he snapped her wrist, eliciting another scream from her mouth, though it was again interrupted by the Madsnake, this time by a harsh downward punch, smashing most of her teeth in, causing her to cough and splutter on her own blood. Choke her! Break her! Abbey wasn’t weak of will though, and she kicked him again, hitting him in the knee and forcing him to move, giving her the chance to stand up and rush to the front door. The Madsnake turned and leapt at her, tackling her to the ground and slamming into it with a thud, finalised by the sound of ribs shattering, all her own. She grabbed his head and scratched down his face, causing him to loosen her grip as she crawled to the door, gurgling and spluttering, knowing it was her only hope. The Madsnake stood up, and kicked her in the back, but she didn’t stop, and it elicited a sort of feeling he rarely felt when dealing with this sort of prey. He stomped, repeatedly, on both of her calves until he was sure bones were broken. It stopped her, and that was what he wanted. She pawed at the door, her broken hand pressed up against it as she tried to climb to the handle. The Madsnake reached over and grabbed her golden locks, now stained with blood, and yanked her head back, pulling her back into the bedroom. She lashed and shook, and he kicked her across the face, tears and blood painting the floor. Kill her! Crush her! The Madsnake turned her around, to keep her face aimed at the door and her legs behind him. She was sprawled out, faintly trying to fight him off. He put his right foot down on her back, keeping her in place as he positioned her head against the frame of the door, her arms trying to pull his legs out from under him. He held the bedroom door wide open, letting out a long wavering breath, before slamming it shut on her head. There was more gurgling, more choking, and so the Madsnake did it again, and again, and again, and many times more until what had once been the beautiful face of Abigail of Otriad was nothing more than a gory puddle of flesh and bone and horror. The Madsnake stood over her body, still twitching in its place, reaching down and dragging it up onto the bed, rearing to quell his hunger again, to have his fill until he was bloated and she was stripped to the bone. The Madsnake took a bite, and gave in to his desires. |
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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 | Nov 2 2016, 12:31 PM Post #23 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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The Madsnake slipped out in the middle of the day, covered in blood, with not a single person cautious about the few sounds that had escaped the Abigail home. The town’s merchants were packing up, as it looked like they were about ready to move on. One of the local farmer’s mingled with them, helping them pack up and, though unknown to the Madsnake, discussing the possibility of employment, so that he may take part in the caravan routes as well as escape this failing town. It was starting to look as if the town was on its last legs, and once people found out about Abbey, it would bring the whole of Otriad crashing down on itself. The Madsnake moved fast and low, one would think he was slipping and slithering at a glance, as he ducked into and across the dried out riverbed, to the old knoll. Entering the clearing gave the Madsnake a rather humbling sort of surprise; it was entirely clear, with even the stains of blood left in the grass mostly cleared. The town’s workers, whomever they had been, had picked the place clean and practically scrubbed it down to ensure no scent was left to attract foul beasts or nightly terrors. Despite being near a major city like Austin, the fact was that beasts survived anywhere these days, especially near small, easy to prey on towns like Otriad. Despite the strange state that was left on this empty spread of land, the Madsnake knew it had been the wisest possible outcome. He sat on one of the rotted out logs, feeling it creak a little under him. The trees were dead, many of them burnt and riddled with bullet holes, and the Madsnake could spot a good handful of branches that had been blown onto the ground by a mixture of impact and wear and tear from the fire, but he was more surprised by the bloodies handprints, burnt onto the trees and placed right over broken branches and outwardly exploded wood. A few of the junkies must have taken cover behind the trees, only to be blown to smithereens by the rapid firing of the hit squad sent after them. For a moment the Madsnake wondered if they’d been confused, or left in their drug induced haze when Lisa and her boys arrived and began the assault. He was certain they wouldn’t have understood, but to have been genuinely shocked and confused, terrified in those final moments and wondering what had brought them on, that was a question he was sad to know he couldn’t ask. The town was a surprisingly easy view from the rise on the side of the riverbed. He could see the well, and most of the buildings, with only Abigail’s home having its back to him. Though he had no decent view of the farmlands and no view at all of the Monetary Outpost, for the purposes of the Madsnake’s endeavour this was a perfect spot. Being here only made the Madsnake appreciate the work he was doing even more; an elevated position with a clear view of the center of a small town? A handful of raiders in this spot would be able to clean the slate of Otriad without even a hassle, and that’s not even including the cover provided by the overgrowth and the standing trees. To think the town had survived this long at all was incredible, and in a weird way it made the town seem stronger, more resilient. Though that was without knowing if it had ever been victim to an attack, which when taking all aspects into consideration was rather hard to determine. The Madsnake hadn’t bothered to delve into the history of Otriad, and why would he? The town was just that, a town, another stack of ruins left in the wasteland after the war, cobbled together by a handful of survivors and an even smaller handful of genuine survivalists, and turned into what was, by definition a town, even if it barely felt like it in practice. It may not have helped the Madsnake’s perceptions to have come to the town at such a time as he did, witnessing chaos and disorder rampantly taking hold, but even still, much of the town’s populace as of late were visitors or employed to stay there. It was a strange town to not have a large local populace, and he simply had to assume that people had perished quite recently, perhaps from starvation or failed hunts, leaving the elderly, the women, and the towns carers. The Madsnake leant back on his rotted old log, setting his burlap sack down by his feet, stretching for a moment. He heard clanging and ringing by the road, and peered over to see where it was coming from. One of the caravans was on its way out of Otriad. The chaos and the fear had driven him away, just as it was about to do to the other it seemed. The brahmin looked well fed, and the packs were large, but clearly depleted. The town had taken what it needed, and now the caravan was headed back to Austin or wherever it was based to restock, and hopefully to benefit more than it had done here. The Madsnake could see the merchants face, and he looked grim, shell-shocked almost, as if the town had taken a toll he’d never expected. This man would go about his business, but there was a chance, a chance that was very common when the Madsnake was involved, that he would go to spread stories. He’d tell people of a town where people had wound up dead and eaten, and though the blame lay on hounds or raiders, it never sat right with him, or much of the town’s population. Others would hear it, and they would know of the stories of a murderer and cannibal, and they would put two and two together, and who knows if the caravan merchants would ever find out about the so-called Thomas, but the idea of the Madsnake would, if all had gone well, most certainly spread. It took longer than the Madsnake expected for something to happen. He’d watched a few of the people return to the common house, and the caravan merchants and his farming friend had been chatting for much of the day. Eliza could be seen by the well, collecting water again, as Abigail tiredly wandered in from the farm. She’d gathered enough food for the three of them to dine on, knowing full well it wasn’t what she should do with the farm in its current state. She cradled the wicker basket in her arms, carrying it under her arm as she opened the door to her home, and shattered the muffled noise of the town with an ear piercing scream, the sort that caused Eliza to let go of the ropes pulling up her bucket, the kind that caused people to burst out of the door of the common home, the kind of scream that reached the ears of the man in the Otriad Monetary Outpost, and brought a cruel smirk to Orton’s face. People rushed over to her, and the Madsnake lay low to watch the town. He couldn’t see much, but he could see looks of disgust, of fear and of sorrow. He saw Marcus rushing through the town from the road, pushing through the crowd to get a look at what was going on. The Madsnake saw Eliza, staggering and falling to her knees before making it to the well. Hoctor came over to her, and people spread out, unable to look at what was out of the Madsnake’s sight. He heard Abigail’s cries, he heard swearing and then he heard Marcus, barking something unintelligible. He could hear the faint sound of what must have been ‘Thomas’, and as Abigail’s wailing died out, the Madsnake was finally able to decipher what was being said properly. “He’s gone, she’s dead, we’re goin’ to give him ‘nother break!? Not again, I sw-” “Marcus, I’ve had enough o’ you! Please, leave me be! I beg of you! In this moment, if you could pick any to be a man of dignity, pick now, please.” There was a silence in the town as Marcus, who the Madsnake could see, turned to look at Abigail. He seemed shocked, almost insulted that she’d talk back to him. Despite having no real power, he’d somehow let what little power he did have go straight to his head. Before he could retort, Abigail’s voice was heard again, calmer and softer than one would expect. “We cain’t… be runnin’ around with mob justice… We need real, proper justice. Goin’ around shoutin’ assumptions, it’s a harmin’ thing, Marcus. We can’t do that no more.” “We took down Edward Shanks, we got rid o’ the mercenaries that occupied this town, we did everythin’ we could to define that ‘justice’ you’re talkin’ about! This bastard’s killed Eddy, he’s killed Abbey, he killed Shawn and Marty, you’re gonna say he doesn’t deserve Wasteland justice?!” Abigail stood up, or must have done now that the Madsnake could see her. She pushed Marcus back, and he was clearly restraining himself from doing the same. A few people backed away as she stood, and the Madsnake could barely make out Marus’ grip, tightly wrapped around his typical .32 pistol. “You killed Vernon, Marus! Yer little stunt, that got Vernon shot dead! Should we seek out your justice? You’re the one who was so eager to bring strangers into our fold! If’n we hadn’t operated on your standard the town’d be under Shanks rule, but at least my daughter, our friends, the family this town was built on, would still be with us!” Hoctor moved in at that point, getting between Marcus and Abigail. The Madsnake couldn’t hear him, but it was clear he was trying to break up what was on the edge of becoming a fight between a healthy young man and a woman well past sixty. He had his hands on Marcus, practically pushing the man to stand down as the two turned on each other. As Abigail vanished, likely returning to cradle what was left of her daughter, Marcus broke from Hoctor’s grip and spun around, blurting one final word. “You’d rather live on your knees, workin’ till your death in that farm, than live proud and on your feet!” Abigail stood back up and rushed at Marcus, not hesitating to stand up to him for even an instant. She was older than him, weaker than him, and she was unarmed, and yet she and she alone stood up to the angered and agitated ‘leader’ of the town, and she did so with pride and with honour in her voice, and dignity in her very bones. She was the finest of women and the finest of Otriad. “I’d rather live safe on my knees under Edward Shanks than standing behind you as you marched us into the abyss! At least we could trust him to keep us safe! At least he had the balls to see us without a gun in tow!” Marcus was on edge ever since Vernon had died, and he’d been cracking slowly. To hear that, from the most revered member of the town, was enough to push him well over the edge. He pulled his arm up, and shot Abigail dead right before the town, her body falling back and out of the Madsnake’s view. Hoctor moved too slow, throwing Marcus’ arm in the air before tackling him to the ground, looking back and seeing the dead body of the mother of the town. The Madsnake could see, just around the border of the town, the caravan merchant and his new farmer friend rushing out of the town. It was a little funny to see them cowering on their way out, taking the western turn of the road to keep away from the action taking place. No one noticed, too preoccupied with all that went on, as people didn’t know how to react, Marcus overcome with inner turmoil and Hoctor bubbling over with fury. The sound of Hoctor’s fists slamming into Marcus’ face were only drowned out by his yelling. He blamed Marcus for so many of the towns failings, and he was making it clear, each punch matching the end of a statement, the name of a resident, the acts of the past week. He grabbed Marcus by the neck and slammed his head into the ground over and over again, panting and snarling. “Eveyn ifin' Thomas, eveyn ifin' 'e done killed every feller in Otriad, I’d still die 'appy knowin' ya gave ya what Ah can’t! Ah wish ah could murder ya slow, but Ah can’t! Ah won’t! Ah’ll bash yowr fuckin' head in ya ignorant arrogant bastard! Thuh carcass awf this town lies awn yowr shoulders!” Tyrik and Jameson rushed over, grabbing an arm each and pulling Hoctor off. Marcus lay there, his nose broken, his eyes bruised, a crimson mask covering his face and blending into the dirt and grass around his head. Marcus barely moved, but he moved, and it showed he was still alive. Jameson was in tears, wrapping an arm around Hoctor’s shoulders to comfort him, but Tyrik was standing, looking at Marcus. He looked different to any other expression there. He spoke quietly, and the Madsnake couldn’t hear him, but he could see Hoctor looking utterly lost by what was being said, and knew it must have been bad when Hoctor rushed over to the .32 pistol on the ground, hoisting it up and aiming at Tyrik, shouting over the towns silence. “Ah'm not lettin' ya two cut duhrt awk ta chase down some personal vengeance! Ah'd rather wach thuh two awf ya bleed out awn thuh God damned road! Ya're stayin' hair! Hair, where 'e done let everyone else cash in!” With what little time he had between events, the Madsnake figured that Tyrik agreed with Marcus. It was surprising to see anyone still on the man’s side, but at this point it was best to have all cards on the table, rather than none. Knowing the sides, it meant the town could do more than linger on the silent emotions as it so often did, and try to address this new problem. In the end though that was too much to ask, and with Abigail joining the ranks of the dead, ensuring they outnumbered the living, it broke even the strongest mind, if not strongest will, in the entire town. Eliza stood up by the well, a homemade shotgun cocked in her hand, aiming between all four of the men before her. “No one… gets to move… ever again. I left a ruined home… and sought out peace… and instead I got this… is this what the Wasteland does? Does it ruin everything? All good, does it suck the good out, and toss it away? Is this all the hope is used for, getting by until we break down into hatred and squabbling again? I crawled… I crawled through a desert to get here… what was that hope for, that hope that kept me going, if all I come to is another dead land?!” Marcus took a step forward, and Eliza swung to aim at him, hesitating for a second as she looked him dead in the eye. “Marcus, I swear if you take another step I will shoot you dead. Any of you! I promise it!” Marcus took another step, and Eliza failed to do what was right and shoot him, hesitating again but resting her finger on the trigger. He didn’t step again, but the Madsnake could see him talking quietly, saying something he couldn’t hear. Eliza’s hands lowered a fraction of an inch, and that was when Tyrik moved, and Eliza did the same, pulling the barrels up to head level and blowing the man’s head clean open, his brains spraying out over the area before them all. Hoctor took his chance and turned and took the shot, his aim true as the bullet pierced Eliza’s brow, ending her in an instant. Jameson backed away in horror before Marcus leapt on Hoctor, the two of them trading blows for some time, before ending in a struggle of power, Hoctor fighting Marcus’ as he pulled the elderly merchants hand up to his head, ensuring the barrel of the pistol was right up against Hoctor’s brow, and making sure he could see Hoctor’s eyes, before forcing him to pull the trigger. The final shot was like the final beat of a song, carrying across the town as only Jameson and Marcus were left. There was a moment when the two of them didn’t even realise it, before moving again. Jameson grabbed the shotgun, and Marcus his pistol, and the two stood off for a full minute, before finally they walked, slowly and calmly, to their homes. Marcus vanished down the road, and Jameson slipped into the common house. That was all that would be said of the end of Otriad, as the Madsnake picked up his bag and hoisted it over his shoulder. He made his way to the road, walking down it in the light of the setting sun, the ruins of Otriad behind him. The town, as a structure, stood just as it had since his arrival, but the town as a concept was very different now. Where once it had been a farming town, it had then turned into a husk controlled by mercenaries and money-men, and then it had been freed, and finally set its killing blow, as the already tested courage and fortitude of the towns people crashed around them. The right strings had been pulled, and everything fell apart. What was left was a confused man, scared and alone, and a soul utterly broken, his friends and loved ones dead, his power destroyed, and his dream of a free Otriad achieved, all for what felt like nothing. The story of Otriad would be told by the merchants who had fled, and it would live on in a bizarre and tragic infamy, a cautionary tale and a shadow that would hang over all involved until their final breaths. The Madsnake did not know where he would go from here. He had never experienced the collapse of a town so up close, the shattering of a society and the impact it had. He would not consider doing it again, the risks being not worth the reward, and in the end it being only an impediment of his own survival, but the fact was that he had learnt. This entire situation opened his eyes, and he realised better just even the closest friends could turn in the right circumstance, and how all it takes to break a man even as strong-willed and seemingly fit to be a leader and a hero as Marcus was a few bad days and a few sudden deaths. The Madsnake looked down the long road that winded and split off, not knowing which direction was which or where he was intending to go, but he knew he would go there, and he would take his time in it. Wherever he wound up, he knew he would benefit from it, just as he had done here, in Otriad, built on the ruins of society and left on ruins of society. |
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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 | Nov 2 2016, 12:33 PM Post #24 |
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I didn't even know I had this
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[align=center]FINISHED[/align] |
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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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| Triminac | Nov 4 2016, 07:37 PM Post #25 |
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Private Dick
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Alright homeboy, your style is getting honed like a motherfucker and I could not be more proud. I asked for longer, more expansive works and you went hard. Well done. You gave me a lot to work with, so I suppose it's only fair I do the same for you. Something that does rub me the wrong way is how well-spoken Orton is. With an intelligence of 3 and average charisma, I don’t really see how he can manipulate anyone even the slightest bit. It kinda seems like you regret the stats you originally chose for him, because the way you play Daniel doesn’t seem appropriate for what he has. This mission style was clearly for a charisma and intelligence character, neither of which Orton is. I have no problem with him trying that route, but failure would have been frequent, realistically. There is a rule about not changing your SPECIAL once you’ve played, but I would talk to a main mod to see if you can work those around if you really want to. Not to be rude, but I was laughing my ass off with how the Abigail thing escalated so quickly. I admit, one of my best friends is charming enough to where he’ll meet a stranger and within twenty minutes they’ll have agreed to bang, but Orton isn’t a particularly charismatic guy. I understand he has the sex appeal trait, but that isn’t like, a free ticket to bang people without genuine relationship development. Had that happened a bit later in the story, I might have believed it, but it was right out of the gate they were fucking. Doesn’t really happen with real people. It’s also very unlikely that she’d find him a source of comfort, given the likelihood she would already have a friend or family member for that. Also, I would recommend noting that Abigail must have moved to Otriad from somewhere else, given her lack of an accent. Otherwise it breaks immersion a little bit. You started to as the story went on, but that means you’ve gotta correct what you had previously written. Speaking of which, I thought you laid the accent writing on a little thick. If you keep it light, we’ll hear it in our heads as we read. Too heavy and it makes the language choppy. Proofreading is always important. Most of us forget, but it’s vital to the flow of your work. “He toor away at his desert clothing,” Playing a little too much Skyrim? Yol Toor Shul! “Marcus could try all he wanted, but he would never be seen as a man worthy of running a town; some saw him as the man who caused the death of Marcus” Foreshadowing? Also, this sentence right here, “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,” is very slightly incorrect in terms of structure. By making the first two clauses in conjunction with “and,” the last clause applies to both of the previous ones. I don’t think that was your intent, but if it was, well then that’s fine; however, you not necessarily supposed to make an “and” statement with a positive and negative clause. You can, but it just feels weird. Structuring it like “He didn’t look like some lost wanderer, but wasn’t prepared for the wilds of the environment either, not that he cared.” That would have read a little smoother, but your way isn’t technically wrong either. When entering Hoctor’s, you switched perspectives for a moment. You went from third, with “he”, to second, saying “you”. Always be paying attention to this. The scene where Orton was gripping the table trying to maintain control, shutting everything else out felt very real to me. I could see it play out it my head perfectly, and I can only applaud your effort there. Gotta say, I loved the way you played Gasman Eddy. I was a bit wary of it at first when you threw out the accent, but it grew on me over time. I especially loved his little paranoid weedhead style. I wasn’t so much a fan of how much he trusted Orton right away, but I’ll just chalk that up to his luck this time. I’m amazed with Orton’s stomach capacity though. Eating an entire person sans bones is still a lot of friggin meat. And then to do it again and again? I should reward you with a busted belly. I don’t really understand why the mercenaries didn’t just kill Orton. After he smacked the captain around, wasteland justice usually means that it. The end. Like yeah, Shanks wanted him to do a job, but if he’s that wild, they know they can just send one of their own to do it. Something more concrete in reasoning would have been appreciated. So yeah, tl;dr, biggest things to work on are realism in terms of human relations and motives, staying within Orton’s capabilities, and proofreading. ONTO THE REWARDS:
You did good, dude, and I hope it shows in the rewards. |
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Virgil Wakes: Level 4 S(3) P(4) E(2) C(10) I(7) A(5) L(9) Bucket Town Reputation: +174 Roy Reputation: +5 D1-CK: Level 4 S:1 P:10 E:5 C:2 I: 8 A: 9 (+1) L: 5 | |
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