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| "Oh Wow What A Cool Box!"; (Thievery At Its Finest)(Solo)(Showdown) | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 11 2016, 03:19 PM (686 Views) | |
| Blue | Dec 11 2016, 03:19 PM Post #1 |
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Showdown Record: 1 - 1 - 1
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The Boneyard had been rough on Gilbert since he murdered a junkie and found himself constantly paranoid of running into one of the man's friends. He had made due living off the scrap pickings of the local hunters; communal gecko stew once every other day just wasn't doing it for him. In fact, he felt downright saddened by the constant ache in his gut. Gilbert had considered going to the Salivators over by the old church, but he was far too spooked by the rumors that they still spoke with the ghoulish pastor who brought them to town; it also didn't help that the Salivators and he just didn't see eye to eye on recreational Magnitude use. That left the thief with only so many options and a very hungry stomach. After all, it wasn't part of his plan to die of famine in the streets of this backwater town. It had been three days ago when Gilbert set his eyes upon the single greatest food source in Bucket Town. The Food Co-op was the only place in town where he could steal a small bit of food and it just might go unnoticed. He knew when Abraham, the nice enough but someone off putting manager was out for the evening and when he would take his robot with him. Gilbert cloaked himself in his black rags and descended upon the town square in the inky blackness. He had debated a number of best entrances strategies: he almost outfitted his robot to make a major distraction, but that was a project for another day. Instead, he avoided the watchful night eye of one of the Salivators and weaved from bothy to bothy without making a sound. His feet padded against the dusty ground, but there was no one watchful nor near enough to hear him. Finally, Gilbert slid around to the cellar steps and slipped down to try the handle to the Food Bank proper. Of course the door was locked, but that was nothing short of what Gilbert had expected. In fact, he had his lock picking kit on hand. He dropped to one knee and pulled the shiny oaken box out of his bag. It would have gleamed in the moonlight but Gilbert had picked a new moon to thieve under. Some considered it lucky, Gilbert considered it smart. His hands took to the lock like a hunter skinning prey. It was tough to make that first opening cut, but once he found a weak spot, Gilbert was in. His hands move fluidly and silently until he finally heard the lock click open. He slipped into the cellar and closed the door behind him. The cellar was much cooler than the surrounding streets of the city and Gilbert smiled at that. He quickly found the food seemed to be behind a second locked section of fence. His first thought was to whip out his lock picking kit again and get to work but a single sound stopped him. A loud snore from behind a curtain in the corner. That fucker was supposed to be on errands. If the manager was back Gilbert couldn't risk being caught with his fingers in the pie. The rest of his heist would have to wait until he had the man's schedule down completely. Wow what a cool looking box. It had been set aside an didn't appear to be of much use to whoever had left it. Wait, were those plants growing out of the box? Gilbert figured the man in charge would be less likely to miss this than anything else. Gilbert carefully grabbed it and carried it out through the basement door and into the shadowy streets. Bucket Town was still dead this time of night; at least this far from Bobo's. Gilbert took one look up at the sky and felt his stomach grumble. At the very least he had a new box of plants to take care of. He crept back into the shadows and followed their path back to the Boneyard. The manager must have had a pretty boring night if he is already in bed. How little Gilbert knew. (OOC: Didn't directly take anything from Thomas's person, therefor I am not directly invoking any sort of showdown, unless he would like to come chase me down. Also, the only security that Lothmar mentions in his property description is a lock on the door. As lock picking is Gilbert's only useful skill, I think he would be more than a match for it.) |
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Gilbert Rose Level 5 S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 3 5 3 8 6 9 6 Weapons: Type 57 Machinepistol, Stun Grenades Short, thick brown hair and beard, lanky and surefooted. "Doctor" Jasper Cobb Level 1 -HC- S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 4 6 6 3 10 6 5 Weapons: Scalpel Short, with round features, looks unsettling to most. Sebastian Coates Level 1 -HC- S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 7 3 6 6 4 7 7 Weapons: Homemade Shotgun, Cultist Knife (Tier 1) Average height, bulky for a ghoul. Sun Apr 30, 1:17:19pm cewebwalz: your my spaghetti daddy blue Tue June 19, 9:52:57pm lonesomedrifter23: ^Blue the best mod in the business | |
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| Lothmar | Dec 11 2016, 09:06 PM Post #2 |
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Head raider
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[[ Just noting, the box is in my care now since he stopped in my actual shop thread and asked me to tend to it as a favor. Even if im growing it in the shop, it is currently on my inventory at the moment. *Added it to peeking visuals because I hadn't yet since I hadn't resolved the rp fully with Fom* I also see no mention of you actually getting past the security gate area where the piece would be. Note, the security gate uses a slide bar on the door portion and not a lock in case you're gonna re-write to compensate for this (Yes this means it can only be opened from the inside, unless the doors just shut and not latched secure etc). In the waiting area the things easily available for theft are '6 small wooden benches and 6 cloth and straw pillows This is a ballsy and interesting rp though and i've enjoyed the writing of it. If you need to ask me about the shop etc since you cased the place let me know and I can give you specific details. I dont mind if you succeed so long as mods deem it fair. Here's hoping I dont fail my perception horribly while sleeping and get my throat slit open and my shop pillaged instead of letting you have the box. I dont like showdowns but if necessary to protect my property or the property left in my care i'll risk it. It's a shame too, if he had just asked for food Abe probably would have given a reasonable amount to him cause he's the Salvitors foodbank etc. *chuckle* Thanks for pointing out that I dont have a particular section for my defenses other then just general description and rp's. I added a small 'defenses' blurb section because of this in case something similar occurs. Thanks for helping me to improve my store. ^-^]] |
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Reputation +150 Reputation with Bossman Briar's Farm! +00*? (Depends on outcome of drama) Bucket town Rep Lvl2 I.S.4.C. - The handy dandy food o matic! S. p. e. c. i. a. l ; Level 1 6, 8+1, 6, 4, 6, 6, 5 Tool Appendages (weapons) - Kitchen Knife, Spatula, Microwave/oven safe tray. Armor: Upgraded Scrap shell (Tin Can breastplate - Poor Quality Tier 2) ========= Lvl3Abraham - New merchant and IS4C's manager. S. p. e. c. i. a. l ; level 1 4, 6, 4, 8, 6, 6, 6 (Local celebrity +2 BT charisma = 10) Weapon: Junk flinger T1 (GC), Fold-able Straight razor (switch blade - T1), Armor: Packrats clothing (T1) + traveling coat (Tier One (GC) Desert Clothing) ===== Moleman and Chompy (coming soon) | |
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| Midnight Rider | Dec 12 2016, 12:04 AM Post #3 |
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The Super Cereal
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I'm afraid its necessary Loth. Post a defense or Blue makes off with the box. |
![]() Gordon "Stone" Hennigan, SPECIAL: 5.6.9.3.5.10.3. Level: 6 HC Peter McCullough SPECIAL: 4, 4, 4, 10, 10, 4 , 4, Level 3 HC THE CURSE OF THE MUMMY The spirits have taken an interest in you for all the wrong reasons! Unexpected challenges will come to you during your RPs but the rewards doled out will be much juicier. It is possible to live with such a curse, but if you would rather live curse free, you could simply sell the corpse and wash your hands of the whole situation. Lmgthev: MBP is handsome LonesomeDrifter23: Sometimes I think MBP is a being made entirely of satire. | |
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| Blue | Dec 12 2016, 07:37 AM Post #4 |
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Showdown Record: 1 - 1 - 1
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Thanks for being a good sport Loth. The only issues I have with your response is that all of your relevant defenses only were detailed after I made this post. Also while it is logical for you to keep the plant in security, the final mention of it IC-wise is in the final post of your shop thread.
The box is left on the counter and not mentioned again. I'll accept any defense response your or Fom wants to make, its all fair. But I refuse to rewrite my post just because there might be a negative outcome for my actions. I believe my post is fair and accurate with the information provided to me at the time. |
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Gilbert Rose Level 5 S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 3 5 3 8 6 9 6 Weapons: Type 57 Machinepistol, Stun Grenades Short, thick brown hair and beard, lanky and surefooted. "Doctor" Jasper Cobb Level 1 -HC- S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 4 6 6 3 10 6 5 Weapons: Scalpel Short, with round features, looks unsettling to most. Sebastian Coates Level 1 -HC- S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 7 3 6 6 4 7 7 Weapons: Homemade Shotgun, Cultist Knife (Tier 1) Average height, bulky for a ghoul. Sun Apr 30, 1:17:19pm cewebwalz: your my spaghetti daddy blue Tue June 19, 9:52:57pm lonesomedrifter23: ^Blue the best mod in the business | |
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| Lothmar | Dec 12 2016, 08:37 AM Post #5 |
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Head raider
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[[ Yes on my side of the counter. The drop box system is there for the secure exchange of goods. Ie - The buyer puts in their payment and closes the drawer. I then open the drawer from my side which prevents the other side from opening while I have it open. I then take out said payment and put the product in the box and close my side so they can open it on their end and take it out. It's in the fourth paragraph at the top of the shop. " A section of crossed wire's allowed both sides to see each other and talk clearly but were enough of an obstruction that hopefully one couldn't strangle or stab the clerk on the other side before they closed the wooden shutters with the metal paneling on the inside (though gunfire was another issue entirely). ***A drawer sat in the counter lined up with the teller station that allowed both parties to put reasonably sized items inside and exchange them, though larger orders or trades would obviously have to come through the security door.*** " I wasn't sure if me and fom were done with out transaction so I hadn't added the box to the background fluff or move it further until this occurred. --- While I'd like to dissuade thievery and say 'im sorry dont try and make me the bad guy here when you are the one stealing from me (lol)' I find the rp to be very interesting and honestly it livens things up, so how about we work out a compromise. Im willing to say that while Isaac was leaving on errands, he brought the box out into the waiting room assuming it'd be safe there while he brought the jugs that needed to be refilled to the well to begin processing etc. However with this compromise I would like to say that now that Isaac will be back soon for the box so you wont have much of a head start on your escape etc. I leave this in Az's hands. ]] |
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Reputation +150 Reputation with Bossman Briar's Farm! +00*? (Depends on outcome of drama) Bucket town Rep Lvl2 I.S.4.C. - The handy dandy food o matic! S. p. e. c. i. a. l ; Level 1 6, 8+1, 6, 4, 6, 6, 5 Tool Appendages (weapons) - Kitchen Knife, Spatula, Microwave/oven safe tray. Armor: Upgraded Scrap shell (Tin Can breastplate - Poor Quality Tier 2) ========= Lvl3Abraham - New merchant and IS4C's manager. S. p. e. c. i. a. l ; level 1 4, 6, 4, 8, 6, 6, 6 (Local celebrity +2 BT charisma = 10) Weapon: Junk flinger T1 (GC), Fold-able Straight razor (switch blade - T1), Armor: Packrats clothing (T1) + traveling coat (Tier One (GC) Desert Clothing) ===== Moleman and Chompy (coming soon) | |
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| azstarael | Dec 12 2016, 08:55 AM Post #6 |
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"Got a light?"
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((Fleetfooted showdown- Spike the junkie vs Gilbert the thief. Non-lethal contest of agility, speed, and perception, winner takes fom's plant. Fite.)) There was very little to be said for being broke and unemployed, but it certainly gave a guy plenty of free time. Spike had taken to skulking around the church one night, and took the opportunity to climb the belltower and get a good look around the town. There wasn’t much to see, what with the dim, silver starlight being the only illumination. Just a few scattered fires, hunters and traders lounging around, their voices a dim, unintelligible hum in the background. He crouched on the very top, one elbow on his knee and chin resting on his palm. He sighed, picking idly at a scab. If there was one thing in life Spike really hated, it was being bored. And God, was he bored. Pulling the scab loose and popping it in his mouth, he batted around a few ideas to entertain himself. He’d very much like to be getting high, but there was the whole “broke” thing, not to mention it was probably best to give his contact a few days to calm down. He worried the scab idly with his teeth. Going to Herman’s place was an option, but he wasn’t in the mood for torch. He could try to find Crabby and see if she was getting up to anything interesting, but that seemed like a lot of work for the possibility of having to escape an angry mob. He’d already had his fill of that for the week. He spit the scab to the side, decided to check out one of the known chemhouses and see if the residents had any dregs (or unguarded stashes) he could get his hands on, when the cellar door creaked open very quietly. Spike frowned, and tilted his head. It was late, he’d be surprised if the merchant who lived in the basement was out and about, and he hadn’t noticed anyone approaching. Now that was highly unusual, and could mean pending excitement. He certainly hoped so, because if he didn’t find something to do soon, he’d probably end up in trouble again. Spike slithered back down the belltower and onto the roof, taking care to stay absolutely silent. Moving toward the basement door, he paused at the edge and peered down. The door was closed, no one in sight. He frowned again, what on earth was going on? There was nothing down there aside from a few ugly pillows; he would know, he’d checked. It would be possible to pick the lock, he supposed, but it was beyond his skill, and that robot gave him the ever-loving creeps. He was about to head inside and investigate when the target ended up coming to him. Very polite of them. The man was dressed all in black, a moving shadow, just as silent. He was carrying a box. Spike couldn’t see what was inside, but the guy’s body language was screaming “I just did something I wasn’t supposed to”. Interesting. Spike grinned, eyes narrowing, and coiled himself up. He was quite sure he’d just witnessed a burglary, and wondered briefly if he himself looked that guilty right after robbing people. He’d have to start paying attention, because damn, guy looked like he’d just killed someone and had their severed head in that mystery box. Speaking of mystery boxes. He wanted it. Streets empty, no lights around, no sounds of footsteps, drunken or otherwise. It really was the perfect night to break into places. Spike was mildly disappointed he hadn’t thought of it himself. He leapt from the roof like a cat, landed lightly, and rolled once. He was back on his feet and stalking after the stranger in the same beat, barely making a whisper of noise himself. He slipped back and forth, staying a short distance back and out of sight, nearly losing sight of his prey several times. This guy was pretty good. Spike felt confident he was better. Once he’d gotten his hands on the prize and taken it somewhere safe, he’d get a look inside and figure out what to do. He could probably get a reward of some kind for returning it. If there was anything particularly neat or valuable, well, finders keepers. And by technicality, stealing did count as finding. He let the shadow-man get some distance away from the church, those ‘saliva-tors’ were pretty harmless, but would probably get in his way. Worse, demand he give up the box. Creeping closer, he prepared to pounce, barely able to make out the theif’s silhouette in the dim starlight. Everything went well up until he’d gotten behind the man. When he dropped into a crouch, however, his sprained knee tried to give out, and what was supposed to be a quick sweep to the back of the guy’s ankles turned into a lurching stumble. He did manage to thwack him, but with less grace than he’d hoped. |
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Spike, level 5 (Hardcore Mode) S:4 P:9(-1) E:7 C:2 I:4(-1) A:10(+1) L:5 Perks Finesse | Small Frame | Chem Reliant Equipment: Switchblade | Rudimentary revolver | x5 Throwing Knives (GC) | Scary Terry Knife Gauntlet Armor: Duster coat (Poor Condition) Reputation Bucket Town (-30) Claw (Companion) S:2 P:7 E:9 C:3 I:9 A:8 L:2 Perks Jinxed | Hunter| Marksman Equipment Junk flinger | Kitchen knife (Poor Condition) Armor Desert Clothing (Poor Condition) Nicholas Stahley, level 1 S.4 P.8 E.3 C.6 I.8 A.4 L.7 Perks Improv Artist | Perfectionist | Fast Learner Equipment Homemade Shotgun | Zip Gun Armor Dirty Pre-war Clothes | |
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| Blue | Dec 12 2016, 01:46 PM Post #7 |
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Showdown Record: 1 - 1 - 1
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There wasn't a great deal of satisfaction in Gilbert's heart when he slunk away through the shadows of Bucket Town. His little hidey hole that he used to stay out of reach of the general riff-raff of the Boneyard was a little to the north and west of the center of Copperton. At least, Gilbert was pretty sure of it. The windy ruins and tent metropolis weren't exactly the easiest places to become intimately familiar with. Every morning for the first month he had been in town, Gilbert had passed a tent where two old junkies were fucking like rabbits; now it was an empty swatch of land in the midst four dozen identical tents, and had been ever since the man killed the woman over a missing bottle of gin. That one hadn't been Gilbert at least. If nothing else, the night was far too quiet. He felt vulnerable and exposed; he was flat-footed with his hands full of the most useless thing he had ever stolen. There was a principle to it that Gilbert held tightly to; it was the first thing he had stolen since he came to Bucket Town. He had been on such a goody-two-shoes streak, egged on by the horrifying experiences at Mosko and Fairfield. He could still recall the manic laughter of evil when he dreamed; though nights like tonight often meant that he was dreaming less and less the longer he was in town. Gilbert's heart rate spiked when a sudden force slammed into the back of his legs. Gilbert dipped forward and his arms swung wildly; his feet moved at a million miles a minute and he managed to regain his footing by leading his momentum straight into a thick concrete slab in the ruins. He nearly dropped the seed box; he hung on with his eyes closed and somehow hadn't dropped it. The thief whipped around with vengeance in his eyes and a look a fury on his face. "Watch where you're going you cock-fucker!" Gilbert yelled. He breathed heavily as the anger receded. God I'm a dick when I'm hungry. If only I had an Amarillo Pecan Candybar, those things satisfy. He wanted to rub his elbow where he had slammed into the wall but he unfortunately had his hands full. The little man who had hit him, or 'fell' into the back of his legs, which was weird, looked like any of the other junkie scum that lived in the tent city. He assumed the man was slipping back from a wild night at Bobo's and had drunkenly stumbled into to him. It was just Gilbert's luck to run into the one person out and about at this time of night. "Sorry for calling you a cock-fucker," Gilbert said. "But please just watch where you're going from now on." He turned away from the ruinous wall and left the junkie behind him. Weird shit. |
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Gilbert Rose Level 5 S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 3 5 3 8 6 9 6 Weapons: Type 57 Machinepistol, Stun Grenades Short, thick brown hair and beard, lanky and surefooted. "Doctor" Jasper Cobb Level 1 -HC- S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 4 6 6 3 10 6 5 Weapons: Scalpel Short, with round features, looks unsettling to most. Sebastian Coates Level 1 -HC- S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 7 3 6 6 4 7 7 Weapons: Homemade Shotgun, Cultist Knife (Tier 1) Average height, bulky for a ghoul. Sun Apr 30, 1:17:19pm cewebwalz: your my spaghetti daddy blue Tue June 19, 9:52:57pm lonesomedrifter23: ^Blue the best mod in the business | |
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| azstarael | Dec 12 2016, 04:51 PM Post #8 |
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"Got a light?"
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How embarrassing. Spike nearly ended up flat on his ass as the guy stumbled away, thought process skipping as he stayed on the ground much longer than he’d meant to. This whole “knee” thing could be a real problem. Really should have wrapped it up or something, but nothing to be done about it now. He was already involved, and with the way this guy had already proved he could move with an armful of Mystery Box, he didn’t have time to spare for such things if he wanted to stay involved. Sure, he could track the thief in the morning, but who knew how far away he’d get in that time, and besides, Spike didn’t think he could handle the anticipation. He wanted that box, and as the guy started spouting obscenities, literally adding insult to injury, what little proclivity for grabbing and running he’d had disappeared under a wave of vindictiveness. Call him a cock-fucker, huh? Who the hell did this guy think he was? In all fairness, Spike was going to rob him, but the stranger had no way of knowing that, which meant he was just being rude. Some people. Spike bounced back to his feet, rolled one shoulder, and threw his head to the side. His neck cracked loudly in the near-silence around them. Plan, he really should have a plan in mind, what very little he’d been able to gather about this thief said he was quick, agile, and not afraid to work outside the “rules”. Which was just fine by him, frankly; his pride had been bruised with that less-than-incredible introduction, and as the shadowy stranger had the nerve to apologize (as though he weren’t being condescending enough, what an asshole) Spike felt a predatory grin spread over his face, bared teeth just visible in the starlight. A plan would be useful, but they simply weren’t something he was any good at. Taking things that didn’t belong to him? That, he had a real knack for.
“Sure, pal,” he hissed, feet shifting very slightly in the dirt. “My bad.” It really had been, but he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice in one night. No leg-sweeping for him, then. That was a shame, it was by far his favorite move. Instead, he tumbled forward, as though he were about to hit the ground face-first, and instead launched himself off like a sprinter at the starting line. One hand was full of dirt for a very brief moment, then it was in Gilbert’s eyes, as Spike bolted past and snatched for the box. |
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Spike, level 5 (Hardcore Mode) S:4 P:9(-1) E:7 C:2 I:4(-1) A:10(+1) L:5 Perks Finesse | Small Frame | Chem Reliant Equipment: Switchblade | Rudimentary revolver | x5 Throwing Knives (GC) | Scary Terry Knife Gauntlet Armor: Duster coat (Poor Condition) Reputation Bucket Town (-30) Claw (Companion) S:2 P:7 E:9 C:3 I:9 A:8 L:2 Perks Jinxed | Hunter| Marksman Equipment Junk flinger | Kitchen knife (Poor Condition) Armor Desert Clothing (Poor Condition) Nicholas Stahley, level 1 S.4 P.8 E.3 C.6 I.8 A.4 L.7 Perks Improv Artist | Perfectionist | Fast Learner Equipment Homemade Shotgun | Zip Gun Armor Dirty Pre-war Clothes | |
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| Blue | Dec 12 2016, 05:28 PM Post #9 |
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Showdown Record: 1 - 1 - 1
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The junkie stared at Gilbert for a little too long for comfort. The man wickedly cracked his neck and glared at Gilbert with a lean and hungry gaze. Gilbert's stomach grumbled in both a bit of fear and a bit of the ever-lasting hunger. He probably would have been more afraid if the junkie had a pulled a knife or if Gilbert had eaten much in the last twenty four hours; he was a tightly wound ball of emotions and the junkie really was the last person he had wanted to see. If only Gilbert knew how true that was.
The junkie certainly didn't seem like he thought Gilbert was his pal. Maybe his prey, but there was nothing friendly about the way his eyes were fixed on the box. Gilbert decided the best thing to was turn away from the situation. Unluckily for Gilbert, the junkie decided that it was a good time to kick things into high gear. He sprinted at Gilbert with unflinching speed; Gilbert did his best to spin away from the junkie but his world went black and his eyes were scorched by some strange pain. He blinked rapidly, but only manged to produce a fresh wash of tears down his face. In Gilbert's blindness, the junkie struck and wrenched the box free of Gilbert's grip. I should have dropped that thing in the dirt. Instinct took over Gilbert's body in light of better sense and he took off after the junkie while his eyes were still adjusting to the pain. They hurt like hell but he could still see the man ahead of him, even if he was getting further and further away. Gilbert picked up the pace and found himself running faster than he had in a long time. He would have to be smart about chasing down this junkie. A normal man would have cried thief the moment they lost their precious cargo, but Gilbert supposed that wouldn't do him any good. Farmer's who lost brahmin to hellcats wouldn't help one hellcat over the other; they would have to settle this like thieves. If Gilbert was going to get that box back he was going to have to do it himself. Gilbert had regained some momentum in the chase when the junkie cut into an alleyway between two decrepit buildings no one in town was willing to risk living in. Maybe Gilbert could have caught the junkie on the speed of his own two legs, but that wasn't a smart risk to take. Instead he looped around the outside of the alley to where it reached its only other exit. He paused for a second and hoped he heard the footsteps of the junkie. When he heard the man's muffled yet darting footfalls, Gilbert pulled his unloaded and never fired magneto pistol from his pocket and stepped out into the opening of the alleyway. "Alright you dirty little thief!" Gilbert shouted. "Why don't we quit with the dirty tricks and give me that box back!" The man had no fucking honor, proving without a doubt he was in fact, a cock-fucker. Gilbert continued to hold him at gunpoint with his left arm; with his right, he dug deeper into his coat until his hand clasped the cool aluminum casing of one of his stun grenades. Two can play this game. |
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Gilbert Rose Level 5 S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 3 5 3 8 6 9 6 Weapons: Type 57 Machinepistol, Stun Grenades Short, thick brown hair and beard, lanky and surefooted. "Doctor" Jasper Cobb Level 1 -HC- S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 4 6 6 3 10 6 5 Weapons: Scalpel Short, with round features, looks unsettling to most. Sebastian Coates Level 1 -HC- S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 7 3 6 6 4 7 7 Weapons: Homemade Shotgun, Cultist Knife (Tier 1) Average height, bulky for a ghoul. Sun Apr 30, 1:17:19pm cewebwalz: your my spaghetti daddy blue Tue June 19, 9:52:57pm lonesomedrifter23: ^Blue the best mod in the business | |
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| azstarael | Dec 12 2016, 06:20 PM Post #10 |
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"Got a light?"
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He’d seriously contemplated kicking the thief in the shin as he passed, but the sudden weight of the box made him stumble, and he knew he didn’t have a lot of time to spare. The man was blinded and off-balance for the moment, but probably wouldn’t be for long. If it were him who’d just ended up mugged, by a faceful of dirt, at that, he’d be pretty dead-set on getting some retribution. Of course, the guy had been asking for it, but Spike understood the principle of the matter. It would have helped if he knew his way around town better. He set a general direction for himself, weaving and dodging through the tents, ears on high alert, eyes peeled for anything that might present a tripping hazard. Adrenaline stabbed the tips of his fingers, the grin turning self-satisfied. He slipped down an alley and paused very briefly, listening like a hawk, but couldn’t hear anyone following him. He took off at a slightly slower pace, goddamn, this fucking box was not easy to carry, and started thinking about where he was going to hide for the rest of the night. He noticed just a beat too late the silhouette blocking his exit, eyes going wide at the glint of starlight on an impressive-looking pistol. Well, shit.
Spike’s eyes narrowed. Talk about pots and kettles. He shifted his weight back, eyes darting rapidly between the angry stranger, the gun pointed at him, and any possibility at escape. He wasn’t faster than a bullet, and really, it was probably in his best interest to cut his losses and abandon the box, but this was getting ridiculous. He wasn’t used to people being faster than he was, sure as shit wasn’t used to being snuck up on. There was something interesting, now; the man was holding the gun in one hand instead of aiming properly, the other drifting for his pockets, and Spike had a sudden flash of clarity when he thought of the empty revolver on his hip. A man after his own heart, perhaps? Even if not, he’d spotted an opening, and was willing to take his chances. It was awfully dark, and if it were him, he wouldn’t want to risk hitting the prize. “Come and get me, scrote-rot,” he taunted, pushing off one foot and leaping through a hole in one of the crumbling walls. Maybe not the smartest move, with the state of decay the building had fallen into, but his usual M.O. of clambering up the side was effectively voided by the box in his arms. Goddamn, this had better be worth it. It was even harder to see inside the building. He was almost thrown off his feet as rubble and debris shifted under them, the floor entirely unsteady. Something creaked dangerously just over his head, and Spike slipped further into the ruin as quickly and carefully as he could. He held his breath for a moment, ears straining over his heartbeat. The very last thing he needed was to be ambushed by a hungry animal or irate squatter. There had to be another way out, just needed to find it and give the stranger the slip before the whole place came down on his head. |
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Spike, level 5 (Hardcore Mode) S:4 P:9(-1) E:7 C:2 I:4(-1) A:10(+1) L:5 Perks Finesse | Small Frame | Chem Reliant Equipment: Switchblade | Rudimentary revolver | x5 Throwing Knives (GC) | Scary Terry Knife Gauntlet Armor: Duster coat (Poor Condition) Reputation Bucket Town (-30) Claw (Companion) S:2 P:7 E:9 C:3 I:9 A:8 L:2 Perks Jinxed | Hunter| Marksman Equipment Junk flinger | Kitchen knife (Poor Condition) Armor Desert Clothing (Poor Condition) Nicholas Stahley, level 1 S.4 P.8 E.3 C.6 I.8 A.4 L.7 Perks Improv Artist | Perfectionist | Fast Learner Equipment Homemade Shotgun | Zip Gun Armor Dirty Pre-war Clothes | |
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| Blue | Dec 12 2016, 08:39 PM Post #11 |
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Showdown Record: 1 - 1 - 1
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If nothing else Gilbert was likely out of good ideas; he had fumbled with his stun grenade a moment too long and now the cat was out of the bag. He stared into the gaping hole of the ruin and mouthed something silently to himself that start with the letter 'f'. Scrote-rot. He had heard better insults from the junkie's mother. That would have made him laugh in another scenario but right now there were more important things to do then write his next stand-up routine. Gilbert gritted his teeth and leaped into the hole in hot pursuit of the junkie. He had holstered his pistol and he focused his ears on the clattering and clanking that the junkie was making as he navigated the uneven and cluttered floor. They were both quick and quiet, but Gilbert had the lone advantage of not having to carry the grossly encumbering seed box along with him. He could only imagine trying to keep his footing without his arms to provide that last extra bit of grace to his movements. If Gilbert had tried this, the junkie would still have the box and he would have two sprained ankles. The darkness crept in and with it a certain sense of dread and uncertainty. Gilbert had only one option and it was one that flushed him with even more fear and excitement; from the confines of his belt, Gilbert pulled free a small vial of brown liquid. In the darkness he couldn't see the ruddy consistency of Magnitude that made it look much like a syringe full of mud (or vomit), but all of his previous doubts of taking the chem weren't coming to mind. He found a relatively flat section of the floor to steady himself upon and slipped the needle into his flesh. Gilbert's blood ran cold up his left arm and his heart pumped the icy sensation further and further into his chest. He scrambled after the junkie again, trying to ignore the sudden surge in clarity around him; the ice fanned out through his body, leaving him with thick and heavy chills that wouldn't leave his limbs. A loud thump echoed in his ears in what seemed to be two-to-three second intervals and the world around him seemed to be moving at half speed. One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three heartbeats. Each echoed loud and ominously in his ears, like that of the last wail of a dying man. His limbs seemed to nearly flail in the darkness as he chased the junkie through the ruin. Every step echoed in Gilbert's ears and his eyes strained ten times as hard against the darkness. Of course a vial of Magnitude wouldn't let him see in the dark, but every misplaced footfall could be course-corrected for. His mind was a churning mess of focus and imagination. He could nearly see the junkie shuffling and slipping along in the rubble. In his mind it was so clear, and all of it was unfolding right before his eyes. Somewhere up ahead there was a missing section of roof and the dull light of the stars seeped through the open wound of the ceiling. Gilbert so hoped that the junkie would pass into the light and make his job that much easier; after the latest string of events, he doubted if luck was truly on his side though. A scramble of noise to Gilbert's left startled him into throwing a wild hook into the darkness. It connected with absolutely nothing and left Gilbert standing and shaking his head. He darted off after the clambering noises that continued in the same direction, his heart full and beating with the ice-cold thrill of a vial of Magnitude. (OOC: Would whatever mod grades this roll an END check (taking into account Gilbert has Chem Reliant) to see if I become addicted to Magnitude when this is over? Thank you! For reference it is one of MBP's added chems.) |
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Gilbert Rose Level 5 S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 3 5 3 8 6 9 6 Weapons: Type 57 Machinepistol, Stun Grenades Short, thick brown hair and beard, lanky and surefooted. "Doctor" Jasper Cobb Level 1 -HC- S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 4 6 6 3 10 6 5 Weapons: Scalpel Short, with round features, looks unsettling to most. Sebastian Coates Level 1 -HC- S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 7 3 6 6 4 7 7 Weapons: Homemade Shotgun, Cultist Knife (Tier 1) Average height, bulky for a ghoul. Sun Apr 30, 1:17:19pm cewebwalz: your my spaghetti daddy blue Tue June 19, 9:52:57pm lonesomedrifter23: ^Blue the best mod in the business | |
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| azstarael | Dec 12 2016, 10:29 PM Post #12 |
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"Got a light?"
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For a brief moment, Spike thought he was in the clear. It was too dark to see anything more than shadows and darker shadows, but by keeping one hand flapping madly in front of himself and shuffling forward carefully, he maneuvered through a whole room before his ankle went out from under him. He’d managed to step on something round and solid, probably a can, and came very close to falling again. Instead, he stumbled sideways, smacked into a wall with a resounding crash, nearly lost the box, and had to stop for a second to get his balance back. When he did, his eyes went wide, and he barely bit back the curse that he’d been about to shout. Trying to stay silent didn’t really matter, what with the racket he'd just made, and how the wall had creaked morosely. A trickle of plaster fell from the ceiling and down the back of his collar. Either this guy had night vision, or sonar, because he was right on his tail. How, Spike had no idea. All he knew was that the footfalls were quick and sure, wholly unlike his own clumsy stumble through the dark. This wasn’t looking good. He needed an exit, and he needed it now. He also needed to get this son of a bitch off his ass. Running wasn’t going well. He wasn’t going to do shit with his fists if he wanted to keep ahold of the contested prize. Luckily for Spike, there was a third skill he was very, very adept at. When all else failed, it was time to start breaking things. He lurched to the side, then rammed his shoulder back into the wall as hard as he could. A sharp, resounding crack of brittle, rotting wood and drywall, followed immediately by a low, morose groan from the support beam he’d just further weakened. The lighting was a little stronger in the adjacent room. He had all of half a second to wonder why before another shower of plaster rained down from the ceiling, and a louder, more decisive crack! echoed from the wall he’d rammed. His eyes darted up reflexively, and there was his exit. Well, there was his chance, at least. He adjusted the box, coiled his lanky legs, and jumped straight up. One hand caught the edge of the roof, facing him toward the opposite edge, a few shards of wood slicing into his palm. He ignored the splinters as he used his momentum to curl all the way up, flipping over himself, through the hole and onto the roof. He'd been pretty good about babying his recent injuries, but with the adrenaline and all of his already-unimpressive problem solving skills occupied, Spike realized far too late that the display of acrobatics was a terrible idea. His ribs flared with agony, caught him completely off-guard. He yelled something foul through clenched teeth as a few knives slid past them. Spike lost his grip on the box, which slid dangerously close to the edge of the roof, and tried to lunge after it. He only managed another strangled noise of pain, curled up on himself, and struggled to get a breath past the daggers in his sides. ((Could I get a mod to roll an agility check for this post, to see if Spike makes a clean landing or ends up hurting his cracked ribs more?)) Well, that had been dumb. Breathe, ignore the pain, he was fine God, it felt like he'd just been impaled by a Cazadore and get that fucking box before shitstain down there found his own opportunity. But first, it was probably a good idea to move before the roof, starting to sag under him, collapsed entirely. |
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Spike, level 5 (Hardcore Mode) S:4 P:9(-1) E:7 C:2 I:4(-1) A:10(+1) L:5 Perks Finesse | Small Frame | Chem Reliant Equipment: Switchblade | Rudimentary revolver | x5 Throwing Knives (GC) | Scary Terry Knife Gauntlet Armor: Duster coat (Poor Condition) Reputation Bucket Town (-30) Claw (Companion) S:2 P:7 E:9 C:3 I:9 A:8 L:2 Perks Jinxed | Hunter| Marksman Equipment Junk flinger | Kitchen knife (Poor Condition) Armor Desert Clothing (Poor Condition) Nicholas Stahley, level 1 S.4 P.8 E.3 C.6 I.8 A.4 L.7 Perks Improv Artist | Perfectionist | Fast Learner Equipment Homemade Shotgun | Zip Gun Armor Dirty Pre-war Clothes | |
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| Blue | Dec 13 2016, 10:02 PM Post #13 |
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Showdown Record: 1 - 1 - 1
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There was an orchestra in Gilbert's mind that was playing on repeat. He might have hummed along to the music if he wasn't in the middle of a hectic chase, surrounded by total darkness, and high on some Mexican import that made his heartbeat match the tempo of a brass gong. For a half of one of those extra long heart-beats, Gilbert imagined the building was flooded and he was swimming after the junkie. The total darkness and the weird chopped-up tempo at which he was hearing sounds made him feel like a bat that just did a full hit of Jet. Even the junkie's movements, as close or as far as they were, were beginning to make less and less sense to him and that was the only thing he was trying to focus on. What the fuck was going through his head? He had a box to get god damn it. The chase was wearing Gilbert down. His legs spoke of a degree of stress that they hadn't been put through in weeks. Chems or no chems; he was smashing his legs into rubble and had been for several minutes. Gilbert knew there would be a mosaic of black and blue from his knees to his ankles come morning. Up ahead there was a wide hole in the ceiling, but the rubble around it was too low for someone to realistically climb out of it so Gilbert tried to focus on where the junkie's noise was coming from and hone in on the position. The other bastard had to be getting pretty god-damn sore as well; a pleasant walk through the ruins was nothing, but the high speed chase had really taken it out of him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Gilbert's thoughts went wild when he watched the junkie leap and roll himself up to the roof in one sweeping motion. The man had pulled himself up by one hand and curled his entire weight up to the roof. Gilbert saw the whole thing in mind-numbing slow-motion that simply couldn't be put to words. His mouth hung agape and he thanked whatever force had allowed him to make the same climb with two hands and two arms. The thief followed in hot pursuit; he scrambled over to the hole and leaped up to the rim. His arms seemed to slide and Gilbert panicked for half of one of his extra-long heartbeats. He heaved a giant sigh and hauled the lower half of his body over the rim. There was no way in hell that Gilbert would have made that climb one-handed, regardless of the fact that he was no less than tripping balls. The junkie had dropped the box and lay curled up in ball under the stars, moaning in pain. Whatever force was fucking with Gilbert's sense of time and space found that moment to give him another big fucking rush; his heavy breathing was just as hard, but they seemed to have five seconds between them when they should have had less than one. He shook his head violently to center himself and did the one thing that seemed reasonable. Gilbert found the stun grenade in his pocket and braced himself. Before the junkie could fully remove himself from the confines of his fetal position, the thief scooped the box up in one hand and used the hand cradling the box to pull the pin on the grenade. He slid off the roof far too quickly to escape the blast and came down bad on his ankle. "Fuck!" There was no containing the pain he was feeling, but Gilbert couldn't stop to wait out the pain. It would be even longer until the Magnitude kicked off. Instead, he took off as fast as he could, with a box full of useless soil and a expression that said 'I hate my life and none of it is my fault!' Even though it all was. At least he had a destination in mind that wasn't his half-hidden section of the Boneyard; he was going north back toward the town proper. |
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Gilbert Rose Level 5 S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 3 5 3 8 6 9 6 Weapons: Type 57 Machinepistol, Stun Grenades Short, thick brown hair and beard, lanky and surefooted. "Doctor" Jasper Cobb Level 1 -HC- S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 4 6 6 3 10 6 5 Weapons: Scalpel Short, with round features, looks unsettling to most. Sebastian Coates Level 1 -HC- S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 7 3 6 6 4 7 7 Weapons: Homemade Shotgun, Cultist Knife (Tier 1) Average height, bulky for a ghoul. Sun Apr 30, 1:17:19pm cewebwalz: your my spaghetti daddy blue Tue June 19, 9:52:57pm lonesomedrifter23: ^Blue the best mod in the business | |
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| azstarael | Dec 14 2016, 01:45 AM Post #14 |
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"Got a light?"
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He tried to move as the thief clambered gracelessly after him, oh how he tried, but it hurt too badly. Spike still couldn’t get a breath, there were hot razors in his chest, but God fucking damn it, he couldn’t lose this battle. At this point, it was less about having the box and more about making sure the other guy didn’t. Almost as pressing as the box, less so than the pain God damn it, fucking goddammit he’d better not have hurt himself seriously was the loud, rumbling groan of splintering lumber and the protesting creak of bending pipes. A very clear thought cut through the pain- off the roof, off the roof right fucking now. He wheezed despondently, managed to get his arms under himself, before his head whipped around at the sound of something metallic landing almost right next to him. Son of a crusty goat fucking bitch. The ungraceful, lurching scramble for the edge of the roof didn’t hurt any less than he’d feared, but it did mean he wasn’t laying directly on top of the stun grenade when it detonated. That was probably a blessing, but it was hard to judge, as he’d never taken a face-full of “headache and blindness” before. Every thought was knocked out of his skull and replaced by a loud, shrill ringing, he couldn’t see anything except a white hot starburst, and ended up tumbling off the roof. Spike experienced a moment of blind panic as he was weightless for the briefest moment, cut short when he landed in someone’s compost pile. The actual blindness lasted much longer, as did the white noise screeching behind his ears. He could think just enough to know he wanted the fuck out of whatever he’d landed in. Partly crawling, mostly tripping over himself, Spike managed to put a few yards between himself and the building before another big piece of roof collapsed. The resounding crash sent tremors through the ground and a thick cloud of dust into the air. Spike was barely aware of any of this. It took a moment for his head to start working again, and another to finish dry-heaving from the smell of whatever he’d landed in. By this time, he more or less had his senses back, though the headache was probably going to be something he’d have to deal with for a while. Preach to him about dirty tricks. Fine, dirt to the eyes had been a little…unscrupulous, but the retaliation? Talk about overkill. Bitter disappointment and a terribly bruised ego had him scowling furiously as he fished in his pocket for a cigarette and match. He lit one end with a long, angry puff, eyes dropping to the ground as he started mentally expounding on the thief’s highly questionable parentage. They ended up settling on some very strange, very recent footprints, just visible in the light of the small flame. Spike narrowed his eyes, leaning forward to examine them more carefully, and was thoroughly convinced he’d just discovered the trail of someone in less than ideal shape. Strange gait, one foot dragging slightly, likely someone had injured an ankle or knee. Perhaps, someone who’d just made a wholly embarrassing leap off a rooftop? Spike yelped as the match burned his fingers, dropped it, and scrambled to his feet. Having something more important to do than smoke a cigarette wasn’t something that happened often, but this was one of those times, and Spike didn’t have much of that if he was going to get his revenge. His ribs still ached like a bitch, his head hurt almost as badly, but he could ignore that for the time being.
It only took a moment to track down a lantern and snatch it from where it hung on a tent framework, though the term was being generous. A tin can with plenty of holes, a crude handle, and a burning lump of tallow inside, it didn’t cast much more than a comforting glow, but that glow was enough to let him pick up the trail and determine which way his prey was headed. “North” wasn’t a lot to work with, but it was a start. |
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Spike, level 5 (Hardcore Mode) S:4 P:9(-1) E:7 C:2 I:4(-1) A:10(+1) L:5 Perks Finesse | Small Frame | Chem Reliant Equipment: Switchblade | Rudimentary revolver | x5 Throwing Knives (GC) | Scary Terry Knife Gauntlet Armor: Duster coat (Poor Condition) Reputation Bucket Town (-30) Claw (Companion) S:2 P:7 E:9 C:3 I:9 A:8 L:2 Perks Jinxed | Hunter| Marksman Equipment Junk flinger | Kitchen knife (Poor Condition) Armor Desert Clothing (Poor Condition) Nicholas Stahley, level 1 S.4 P.8 E.3 C.6 I.8 A.4 L.7 Perks Improv Artist | Perfectionist | Fast Learner Equipment Homemade Shotgun | Zip Gun Armor Dirty Pre-war Clothes | |
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| Blue | Dec 17 2016, 04:54 PM Post #15 |
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Showdown Record: 1 - 1 - 1
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The night was quiet except for Gilbert's own ragged breathing. The slick rumble of starvation had begun kicking at his stomach once again; it sent shooting pains through his rib cage and left him with the feeling that he wasn't inside of his own head anymore. Granted, Gilbert wasn't entirely under the affects of hunger; were there more moonlight, his eyes would have glowed a sickly hint of yellow around the irises, and they were streaked with thick, meaty, bloodshot tendrils. The Magnitude's immediate effects were on their last legs and now Gilbert's body was the victim of whatever ugly chemicals remained in his system. It was almost ironic, but Gilbert's face was about as textbook 'junkie' as one could get; it wasn't little ol' Jet neither, the Magnitude leftovers in his system could really fuck him up. The best course of action for Gilbert may have been to stop and rest; instead, he carried on at full tilt toward Bobo's Bar. The night air was cool and kept him from passing out despite the hot heat rising in his face. His ankle burned and throbbed with every step and it seemed to be growing larger and larger. Cold sweat clung to Gilbert's face and neck and he finally pulled up next to the skin that lead into Bobo's Bar and had to set the plant down so he could vomit in peace. He hurled once and it was grey and gross. Sick spittle ran down his chin and his stomach burned in despair, Gilbert silently swore to himself that he was done with chems. Then he threw up again. This time it stank of stomach acid and tasted of burnt rubber and old copper. Tears streaked down Gilbert's ugly, miss-colored eyes and he cursed his life choices for the first time that evening. He puked again, although it was a pitiful amount. There was nothing in Gilbert's stomach for him to throw up except the bile and whatever after products of poorly made Magnitude had leeched into his system. He continued to dry heave for another long moment before a man walked out the door of the bar and clapped him on the back. "I do hope you're going back in there for more, bud," the man said through a very cheery, drunken slur of words. "Its a damn wild night in there." Gilbert couldn't manage a response and did his best to not puke on the nice pants shoes. They weren't anything remarkable, but they benefited from the lack of vomit. The man stumbled away into the night humming something cheery about finding a whore with a golden smile. Gilbert checked the dark night behind him and saw nothing, so he did the one thing that seemed reasonable. He slipped into the hot, crowded bar and claimed a seat at one of the crowded tables. Three slim, sun-burned hunters sat around the table with a large pitcher of pine-scented gin in the middle of them. Three women were with them and they were more or less sober and seemed to be playing some sort of card game. Despite his ragged appearance, they allowed Gilbert into the game and he stashed the plant under his chair and uncorked the purified bottle of water he kept in his belt. It washed the worst of the vomit taste from his mouth and seemed to push back the worst of his come down headache. He was in no state for a chase, so Gilbert did the only thing he could think of, he hid in plain sight. Even if the junkie had tracked him this far, neither was going to be walking away scot-free if any of Roy's Boys got involved. Gilbert cursed when he lost the first hand of the card game but thought it was certainly better than his recent bout of vomiting. |
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Gilbert Rose Level 5 S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 3 5 3 8 6 9 6 Weapons: Type 57 Machinepistol, Stun Grenades Short, thick brown hair and beard, lanky and surefooted. "Doctor" Jasper Cobb Level 1 -HC- S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 4 6 6 3 10 6 5 Weapons: Scalpel Short, with round features, looks unsettling to most. Sebastian Coates Level 1 -HC- S.P.E.C.I.A.L: 7 3 6 6 4 7 7 Weapons: Homemade Shotgun, Cultist Knife (Tier 1) Average height, bulky for a ghoul. Sun Apr 30, 1:17:19pm cewebwalz: your my spaghetti daddy blue Tue June 19, 9:52:57pm lonesomedrifter23: ^Blue the best mod in the business | |
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