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#9433006 Apr 26, 2014 at 05:54 PM · Edited 5 years ago
334 Posts
" wouldn't be wrong." Abel admits rather cheekily, grinning a little before rubbing his forehead. "I was just...separated from my caravan. I've been tracking them on foot for several days." He grasps at his necklace, looking down at the cross and rubbing his thumb over the metal for a moment. He pauses, feeling a single wet tear start to run down his cheek bone. He lets his cross fall, wiping the skin clean of the mar.

"I don't know why they would leave me behind. I'm the son of the caravan lead, you see." He frowns and shakes his head. "He wouldn't leave me. I don't care what Seth says!" Abel manages to catch himself, feeling the blood in his cheeks that caused them to burn red like the anger in his chest. He directed his gaze down toward the counter, trying to take breaths and calm himself. "Sorry, I didn't mean to..."
#9615995 Jun 09, 2014 at 07:11 PM · Edited 10 months ago
520 Posts
Zodai & Atlanta
Luck is a funny thing. Oftentimes it's represented by the flipping of a coin, with Heads similarly representing the "good" aspect and Tails the opposite. At this moment, your coin lands sideways. Zodai, only you would be able to pick up on the fact that the sound of revelry that you were listening to earlier has stopped. Just stopped. Now it's they who are listening now, having been made aware that was something was amiss by your female companion's decision to raise her voice. Thankfully the gloom and your camouflage had been successful in throwing the Trolls off your scent. I mean, without a means of locating the source of the disturbance, they couldn't possibly track you. Right? Maybe. Maybe not. There is a new kind of tension in the atmosphere now, the kind that always seems to precede an epic struggle between life and death. Even Ben appears to have realize that something is amiss. To you, Atlanta, he says to stay down as he takes to aiming down the iron sights of his rifle while his eyes scan for signs of disturbances inside and around the derelict buildings that were just barely visible through the fog. Just when you think that the silence is going to cause irreparable damage to your hearing, Ben's attention and his gun both suddenly snap to the right. And that's when the flare goes up.

Viktor & Deoraí
Even though you two and the other players have had yours truly describe Central Park to them several different times, I feel that it's worth a refresher. After all, it's been well over a month since this story saw proper progression! Contrary to how it would be in our universe, the Central Park that exists here is surprisingly well equipped to handle the rough winter months. Those who had flocked here in the early days have long since established a thriving community for themselves beneath the tree tops, erecting countless tents and shacks or holing up in previously established buildings. During this time of the year the lights powered by portable reactors and electric generators was bolstered by the inclusion of fires of all shapes and sizes, all designed to help keep the heat from escaping vital areas of the expansive settlement known as "Central City." And that is where you - Viktor and Deoraí - find yourselves now. Your approach is actually greeted with a victorious cheer, as the aforementioned generators are switched on for the first time since the blast wave swept through the streets of the Melting Pot earlier.

As expected, the miniature metropolis is abuzz with talk about the fire on the horizon and the rumor of a possible, imminent mobilization of the Helping Hand. Speaking of which, if either of you make an attempt at locating the group from earlier, you might just see some of them in the distance, making a path for themselves through the hustle and bustle. But first thing's first...

Viktor? If you truly wish to seek out Faelin, all you'd need do is ask around. His presence among these people remains to this day something of an anomaly.

Deoraí? If it's supplies you be lookin' for then, well, you've got well over three dozen vendors to choose from who have all just finished going through the process of reopening. I'll let you decide where to begin.


"Easy there, kid," says the mysterious stranger. "Just breathe. I know what it's like to miss family. It can tear you apart from the inside if you're not careful. Here." He slides a glass full of amber liquid across the bar toward you. "Drink that, and try to focus on the burn as it goes down. Think of it eatin' up all your fears and anxieties, like a wildfire fueled by wind. Next thing you know, all that negative emotion will be buried beneath layers of ash. And you know what they say 'bout volcanic soil, dontcha? Good things come from it." And, with that, he clinks his own glass against yours before throwin' it back.
#9623616 Jun 11, 2014 at 02:14 PM · Edited over 2 years ago
125 Posts
Que: Music

As soon as this change becomes apparent, he will throttle down the motor, and recover the rest of the boat. Turning to see Ben grab Atlanta telling her to get down, and snapping his rifle up, Zodai swiftly grabs Ben by sticking his fingers in his gun's trigger guard preventing him from firing it, while taking him down to the bottom of the boat, where Atlanta is. He then grabs them both, clamping his hands tightly on their faces to accentuate his disappointment of them both as they are forced to look at his. In a low very calm voice, with his eyes flaring "Atlanta, remember the water target I trained you with, and how easy it was to lead and skewer? Well, that is us now you puling moppet." He then looks to Ben, "Your not gonna save us by alerting them to where exactly we are, the flare is to try to find us, meaning they do not know." he then looks at them both. "You have five seconds to decide, your either gonna shut the fuck up and do what I ask, or I toss you both off this boat, and leave you to your adventure you seem to pine for.." looking straight at Atlanta more then Ben. His face tells you he is deathly serious. After a second or two he will then say "Turn on the electric motor, and we only engage if they come to us, and that means we are ninja's.. knives , and bows only...silent kills.... Time to nut up, what's it gonna be? I will not regret my decision". (He will only let them go if they agree to his terms and silently do what he says. If not he will toss them both, and gun the idling boat not thinking twice.)
#9633549 Jun 13, 2014 at 10:58 PM
215 Posts
Atlanta grips Zodai's wrist, prying it off of her face. Don't fucking touch me," she whispers. "If you want me off this boat to go and die so much, fine. I'll leave. I'm just dead weight anyway, right Mr. Lone Wolf? But there's no fucking way that you're throwing me off. I'm gonna walk off this damn boat dry and warm, so pull over at least within jumping distance." She swats his hand away and silently gathers her things quickly.

She waits for the boat to pull close enough to shore, and jumps onto the riverbank, Ben following. She loads her crossbow and grabs Ben's hand, leading him to the nearest cover.

"Fuck him," she says to Ben, crouched behind a rock. "We can handle these guys. All we need to do is outrun 'em, right?"

"Should we have left Zodai?" asked Ben worriedly. "I mean, we probably would have been safer, and--"

"If he wants me off his boat, I'll get off his boat. You can go back and beg forgiveness if you want to, but I'm not about to let him boss me around like that, no matter how 'childish' I'm being. I can fucking hunt too, you know. I can fight. Now, are you with me? Because there's still a chance for you to get back on that boat."
#9641752 Jun 16, 2014 at 09:34 AM · Edited over 3 years ago
119 Posts
Viktor shook his head, he had no time for this dead weight when Faelin was so close he could almost taste it in the very air. Turning his attention and steely gaze to Deorai he spoke coldly, seemingly uncaring in his choice of words.

"Failen will most certainly kill you. It is not an insult, it is merely fact. You're too talkative and not nearly quick enough with that boot weapon of yours, not against him you're not. I'm going hunting. If you hear gunfire or see fire that's probably a good place to find me."

Standing up he stretched his arms and a truly wickedly looking knife fell into his left hand. One he held in his left hand and was curved inward, meant to hook everything from weapons to ribs and pin a target still. Readjusting the strap on his DKS-501 he unslung it, a finger resting on the trigger as he strode out the door. Not bothering to turn to face deorai he spoke in his cool, professional tone.

"If you still wish to take that space crafts loot I will let you join me. If you choose to oppose me I will not hesitate to install a new breathing hole in your skull. Your choice matters little to me."

Walking out the door he quickly disappeared into the cold air and hubbub and throngs of people that made up central park.
"All weapons are important to an Echani. A hand built weapon is part of the Echani. I built her by hand, crafting the hilt over weeks of trial and error. She is very much a part of me, like a child, or a spouse. With out the weapon, you cannot defend your life, if you cannot defend your life you have no life. So we treat our weapons with respect. We honor them, as they honor us by being our defenders, our tools, an extension of ourselves. A weapon is an extension of ones soul."
#9662773 Jun 21, 2014 at 05:29 PM · Edited 5 years ago
334 Posts
Staring down into the amber-filled glass, Abel could only tilt his head and swirl it. He had never been one for alcohol, what with an old-world christian upbringing that he followed merely out of respect for his parents than anything else, and he hated the burn. But the mysterious man to the side was treating him more as a long-time friend he hadn't seen in ages instead of a young stranger he chanced upon meeting in a country club. So, plugging his nose between his index finger and his thumb, he threw the glass back and let the alcohol run down his throat. Of course, he was not ready for the burn, and began to cough as it proceeded down into his body.

"Whoa...Oh my goodness...that...that's hooot..."

But it definitely had drawn him from the uncomfortable slumber that had occurred a mere few feet behind them at the tables. And then the taste hit him. It was delicious, but he doubted the flames tearing their way down into his stomach was worth it in the end. Shaking his head, he managed a grateful smile and directed it toward the mysterious man, the stranger who was more of a friend.

"Thank you...your kindness is...remarkable."
#9926930 Aug 25, 2014 at 08:38 PM · Edited 10 months ago
520 Posts
Zodai & Atlanta
Zodai, you make like a librarian and book it the second that your young companions have made it to shore. What you're feeling right now, I imagine, is almost impossible to sort out. But your friend(s) didn't really give you much choice now, did they? You don't even bother to look back, because you know from experience that all you would see is the lights coming from the Trolls' flares...

Atlanta, you and Ben can't seem to make it to shore quick enough. The icy water and the mud beneath it slow you considerably, which only serves to strengthen the panic and adrenaline pumping through your veins. The sounds of shouting and baying dogs is growing closer by the moment. Finally your feet are free, and you and Ben scramble up the cement wall that separates the shoreline from the rest of the world. The pair of you wait until you're personally certain that the attention of the hunting party is directed elsewhere before you break cover with Ben hot on your heels. "Over there!" Oh no. (Cue:

Viktor & Deoraí
Viktor, you quickly lose track of time as you wander around the crowded community. Every now and then you happen to catch the eye of a merchant, or a fellow wary traveler, but nothing aside from the occasional duet of Helping Hand Knights really causes you to pause. But even then, after the incident earlier, you're not all that worried that they're about to start trouble. "Don't start nothin', won't be nothin'," as the saying goes. And that's how it goes, for about an hour, as you peruse the merchandise of so many merchants that you eventually lose track. That's fine, though. After all, you were expecting your traveling companion to play the role of pack mule. He could be in charge of procuring the essentials. And if he didn't? Well, then maybe the Knights would have to step onto the stage once again after all.

'Sooner rather than later,' a part of you gasps. You only catch a glimpse, but you're almost positive that it's him. What to do? What to do? You can't help yourself. You take several steps back, much to the chagrin of a couple of people who had been walking non-nonchalantly behind you, and focus your gaze solely upon the section of bazaar that you hoped was merely responsible for playing tricks on your eyes. And there he is; still as tall and dark and imposing as the Grim Reaper himself. Like a rock in the middle of a river, or a car going a 120 down a freeway, people seemed to naturally avoid the man that is Failen Vathfarli.

As you watch, he deposits a small mountain of Caps into the hand of the merchant that he was addressing, who in turn bestows him with a wooden milk crate full of various fruits, veggies and breads; not all of which looked fairly fresh. Failen nods to her once then turns and seems to glide his way up the walking path. The merchant promptly closes her shop and vanishes from view. 'Probably to have herself a good cry,' you think.

You have several choices here, Viktor. You can either follow him, go to a nearby bar and get absolutely wasted, attempt to reunite with your traveling companion so that you can get the f*ck out of dodge, or have something of a mental breakdown right there in the open as the PTSD kicks in. What do?

Deoraí? I'm sorry, but I'm just going to have to assume that you're either chilling at the place that Viktor left you at, or you're off exploring Merchant's Row.


The man across from you chuckles and shakes his head. "Don't go gettin' kindness and compassion mix'd up now, son. Just because I'm compassionate doesn't mean that I'm a good man."

Even though the route was one that the heavily modified city bus (which looks like this except it's been equipped with a commercial-grade plow like this one and given several layers of armor plating along with a paint scheme designed to associate it with the Helping Hand) had traveled on countless times before, you can't help but feel a sense of... trepidation. The feeling had started the moment that the order had come down that you and the trio Knights under your command (Denon, Webber and Mitchell) were to be separated from Senior Paladin Bradford and assigned to patrol portions of Lower Manhattan. Normally this beat was assigned to Paladin Shepherd, but the brass felt that he and his squad would be better off seeing that things in Midtown remained peaceful following the earlier atmospheric disturbance. You honestly couldn't blame them though, your superiors. Not many people knew how to handle a shishkebab as well as Shepherd did. If things got truly out of hand, he wouldn't have any problems literally cutting the mobs down to size.

This is what's on the forefront of your mind when suddenly the driver of the bus - a middle-aged Scribe by the name of Bill - hits the breaks. After the initial barks of confusion and protest have stopped reverberating throughout the cabin, all eyes find themselves locked upon the sight of Atlanta and Ben (who you don't yet know ICly) as they stand there, both looking like the proverbial deer who had just been caught in the headlights. Judging from the numerous, fresh injuries they sported, it's clear that the two of them were in need of help. After receiving a nod from you, Bill slides the doors to the bus open.

It takes a couple of moments for the shock of being happened upon by a group of friendlies to register in the brains of the youngsters, but once they realize that salvation is literally within reach, they quickly start hobbling toward the bus. They don't get far. With a mighty boom, the side of the building nearest to the group explodes outward. From the makeshift opening appears a pack of almost-demonic-looking canines, all distinctly different in breed, all distinctly different in their mutation. However they all did have one thing in common; a shock collar and a leash made of mooring line leading back to a gargantuan, Nemesis-like Super Mutant. The creature is so large that it actually has to bend over in order to ensure that its head clears the second story of the ruin that it had decided to turn into a bypass. When at last it's able to right itself, it turns two nearly-blind eyes in the direction of its quarry and then grins.
#9962635 Sep 02, 2014 at 08:18 PM · Edited over 3 years ago
125 Posts

After gunning it for a few minutes, and hitting his gage board a few times.. muttering "Stupid...". Putting several hundred yards out, he shuts down the boat going into quiet mode, just letting his momentum take him further, letting the quiet settle in, he readies his bow, vigilantly watching into the darkness, quietly, to see if he has pursuers, from lanta's show. Sitting there quietly his thoughts creep in... 'Stupid.. stupid.. I could have handled that better, but good god, does she bitch... She deserves what she gets, and Ben.. the sheep following her to school... Well I tried.. but.. I hope she is as tough as I think she is.. and Ben too.. he is a good kid.. but man I hope following her hasn't doomed him...' He couldn't help but grin slightly 'What we do for a female...'
#10014876 Sep 13, 2014 at 12:58 PM · Edited over 3 years ago
215 Posts
'Well shit,' is what went through both Ben and Atlanta's minds when they had realized what was about to go down. The pair immediately dashed for the nearest cover, finding two pieces of rubble around 4 meters apart from each other. With that, they began firing back.

The suitable cover they found and their marksmanship were the only things keeping them from death. Ben and Atlanta traded off firing at the enemy so that they wouldn't get too close; one fired while the other reloaded. Atlanta hit a few marks, but it wasn't nearly enough to keep them back.

Then, out of freaking nowhere, one of the raiders stumbled behind their cover, wielding a tire iron! He looked straight at Atlanta and, smiling a crooked raider smile, took advantage of Atlanta's crouched position. The red-haired girl tried to send a bolt flying into his skull, but the raider used his iron to knock the crossbow from her hands. His next swing would've went straight into her skull if it weren't for the intervention of Ben, who sent a barrage of bullets into the man's back. He promptly fell, and Atlanta noticed some very lucky fortune's on the fresh corpse's belt. Right next to her were three little miracles known as frag grenades!

"Cover me!" the girl yelled at Ben, and he wordlessly started firing upon the raiders. Atlanta took a quick double-take of the enemy before pulling the pin and lobbing one of the grenades at the raiders; then another, farther back; then the last one.

They had succeeded in putting a "scare" on the raiders' faces, but they quickly regrouped and started treating the two as a more serious threat; those grenades turned from boon to curse real quick. The dogs were coming, now.

Louder than the bark of the dogs was the bark of their master: a large, hulking Super Mutant that actually seemed uglier than the rest. As his dogs charged, so did he. Though, the latter was likely scarier than all the dogs in the world.

At this point, it was either fight and die or run and die. Running seemed like the bigger sliver of a chance at survival, though, so they took it. "Dammit! Ben, run! Just run!" They both turned and sprinted towards what would seem to be their death, up until Atlanta's player would pull another deus ex machina in the form of another out-of-freaking-nowhere moment! Just as the dogs were closing in, a working bus with the Helping Hand's logo painted on the side rammed into one, nearly crushing the pair of humans in the process.

The driver of the bus seemed to know that Ben and Atlanta were in need of help, because within seconds he had opened the door and motioned for them to board. "You two look like you could use a hand," offered the old guy as the Paladin and the Knights he was transporting began to spill out, all of them apparently quite eager to engage the baddies. Bad puns aside, the two youngsters accepted the offer without a second thought.
#10054758 Sep 22, 2014 at 05:25 PM · Edited over 3 years ago
119 Posts
Viktor glances at the figure in black, he blinks several times, his iceberg blue eyes pierce through the man as his brain struggles to come to grips with the man buying supplies.

"It has to be him, it has to be. There's no doubt about it. This is the man I've hunted for, the one I spent time in the Sierra Madre preparing to face down. This is the infamous firebug they called Failen."

His hand goes for his knife, a wickedly inward curved blade slipped from hi sleeve and into his grasp. Looking around the market he saw it was crowded with civilians and people with no idea the amount of chaos and havoc the two of them could bring about if they went at here and now. Shaking his head he kept thinking of that annoyingly optimistic bastard he agreed to split the profit of the alien technology with. Furthermore he would rather not listen to the man bitch and moan about civilian casualties lest he put a slug between his eyes.

Sighing heavily he tucked the knife back into his sleeve gently, making not a sound as he slipped into the crowd and blended in near seamlessly, following the man to a nearby pub. Starting to shake form the nerves of confronting his rival of years he took a bright neon orange bottle from his coat pocket, dumping a few pills into his gloved hand and swallowed them whole, finally steeling himself for whatever may come next as he stepped into the crowded and lively pub.
"All weapons are important to an Echani. A hand built weapon is part of the Echani. I built her by hand, crafting the hilt over weeks of trial and error. She is very much a part of me, like a child, or a spouse. With out the weapon, you cannot defend your life, if you cannot defend your life you have no life. So we treat our weapons with respect. We honor them, as they honor us by being our defenders, our tools, an extension of ourselves. A weapon is an extension of ones soul."
#10145547 Oct 13, 2014 at 07:14 PM
62 Posts
Deorai had gone about 'purchasing' various things from the stalls around the market. Of course, by purchase the implication is theft. Never anything too big or expensive, but a bottle of buffout here. Shotgun shells there. Little things that could come in handy. After all the time spent stealing and rarely buying something honestly he had ended up inside a bar for a quick drink which he had paid for, downed, and started to leave. On his exit is when he saw the man with the flame thrower. Instinctively he took a step away from the door to avoid the man looking over his shoulder as he left right after and would nearly run into Sniper toting Russian. The memory clicked almost instantly and he stopped in his tracks with a sigh.

"You're not seriously..." But he said no more shaking his head and starting to walk past Viktor. "Not going to get in the way... None of my business." Irritation was obvious in his voice but he didn't particularly care what Viktor did right now. If the Russian got killed? One less crosshair on his own back. If he survived? A hasty exit and they'd be home free... Probably.
Rule No. 9- "When forced to compromise, ask for more."

Rule No. 10- "If you can't win, change the rules"

Rule No. 11- "If you can't change the rules, ignore them"
#11035961 May 10, 2015 at 07:53 PM · Edited 10 months ago
520 Posts
((Click here for obligatory apology. We good? Good! Before we begin there's two things I'd like to address. The first thing is that that Vilinde's character Ronan should now be recognized as an NPC rather than an inactive Player Character. Secondly, I have to point out that there is now a new posting order. It is as follows...

1.) Zodai / Vara-Sarg-Raj-Jett
2.) Viktor Markus / Nagashi/Raythi
3.) Deoraí Dath / Sevrickk/Adri'el
4.) Abel / Qunai
5.) Azzie Abendroth / Ally/Tasha
6.) Atlanta Psomas / Cirsei
7.) Paladin Laurie / Sevrickk/Adri'el

Got any comments, questions or criticisms to throw at me? You know how to reach me. Now let's get back to the story, shall we?))

- - - - -


Viktor & Deoraí
Deoraí, you find yourself a nice, cozy little corner to temporarily call home right near the entrance to The Dairy. To describe the hustle and bustle of the place would be to describe a scene already detailed countless times before in fantasy novella. (If you do need a visual aid though, I suggest taking a look at this. Yeah, it's kind of like that.) Once you're neatly situated and in a position that clearly tells anyone who spares you a glance that it's best they keep walkin' less they decide to buy you a pint, you put your feet up on the table and wait for the fireworks to begin.

Viktor. It's easy enough to follow Failen through the crowd as they too seem to instinctively know not to get is his way. A few times you catch a snippet of speech from someone who realizes that you're actually following the almost-supernatural-like figure, but you ignore it. The less attention you draw to yourself the better. At least that's the plan. It's a good plan, don't get me wrong, but there's one flaw that you don't quite account for...

Once Failen has finished setting his flamer against the wall and making himself comfortable insidious in what I can only describe is the polar opposite of the corner that Deorai took, his head turns and focuses right on you. How could it not? There were no other tables back here left unoccupied, and nobody was going to give up their position at the bar. So that leaves you just... standing there, like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights.


Even the man's voice makes you think that your person is about to spontaneously combust! It's dark, melodious; almost acidic even. The way his mask - which he had yet to remove - distorted his speech ever-so-slightly didn't help either. He knows he has your attention. How could he not?


Oh, shit.

For you, Abel, we're going to skip ahead a bit. Your encounter with the Mysterious Stranger ended as abruptly as it began. The way you and he drank makes things a tad fuzzy, but you'd swear that when it came time for him to leave he simply vanished from his stool without a trace while the bartender's back was turned. But aside from that oddity and the killer hangover you woke up with the following morning, you couldn't think of a reason to complain.

Once you were feeling better you decided to take up Sir Thurston Backus III's offer of paying for your stay at his establishment by collecting venison from the local wildlife. The work is exhausting but overall rewarding. You're even awarded a small bounty of caps for every kill that weighs above 2 lbs. This routine carries you through the next 48 hours.

On the third day of your stay, something quite unexpected happens.

You have just finished making the necessary preparations to journey back out into the winter wonderland when suddenly the front doors to the Knickerbocker are thrown wide open. The two men holding the doors open aren't worth describing (just your run-of-the-mill NPC), but the woman that strides into the old country club's lobby is -- as is the unbelievably huge vehicle that you get a glimpse of rumbling idly outside. The woman is just 5'4" with light blue eyes, hair the color of caramel and skin that was once white but had been browned by repeated exposure to the sun and low doses of radiation. Aside from the golden, heart-shaped necklace that she wore around her neck astride a pair of equally dirty dog tags, she's armed to the teeth. From what you can see she carries an MP5 sub-machine gun and a hunting rifle upon her back and an old Chinese officer's sword at her side. She also is wearing what appears to be a salvaged suit of winterized combat armor, seen whenever her knee-length brown duster moves.

"Guten Tag, meine freunde!"

Now there's a language you've never heard before.

Backus' eyes light up as he turns to survey the new arrivals. "By Jove! Azzie? Azzie, my dear girl, is that you?"

Figuring that this was as good a time as any to make like a banana and split, you turn to leave -- only to wind up bumping into this 7'0" tall metallic monstrosity. You look up at it, it looks down at you and then says in a perfect imitation of Stephen Hawking's voice: "Hello, meat bag."

Atlanta & Laurie
The plan had been a simple one: Laurie, you and your Knights were going to provide covering fire for the bus as it retreated back down the street. While you would all silently agree that staying aboard and letting Bill do his thing would have been a far safer option, the fact remained that none of you would be able to do much of anything from inside unless the Bridge Trolls surrounded you, and by that point the likelihood of you all living to see tomorrow was less than slim. That was the plan. Unfortunately for you all, the Super Mutant put the kabosh on it when it decided to try - and consequently succeeded - in rendering one of the bus' tires useless with a short burst from its unique Tommy Gun. (Although it's entirely possible that it was trying to put one of you down and, thanks to its horrendous eyesight, hit the next best thing.)

Your initial volley had the benefit of frying several of the Super Mutant's hunting dogs only seconds after they had been quite literally unleashed upon you. Devoted as they were to their master, fear of being reduced to little more than cinders caused the other hounds to vanish into the icy mist surrounding the battlefield. But the dogs are the least of your problems. The sound of music (specifically can be heard growing louder and louder until, with a cry that only an excited crowd can make, the rest of the Bridge Trolls gang erupts onto the scene! Denon, who had been placed in charge of replacing the tire, nearly has his head taken off by a flaming arrow. "I guess it's just going to be one of those days," you mutter as you brace your weapon firmly against your shoulder and squeeze the trigger. ((I suggest my readers watch to get a good idea of the kind of picture I'm trying to paint here.))

Atlanta. You and Ben, believe it or not, have a far more interesting encounter inside the bus. Maybe about three minutes or so after the Super Mutant's buddies arrive, this mutated wolfdog slips on board through a hole created by a rocket-propelled grenade. You and Ben fail to notice it, but the driver doesn't. In fact were it not for his startled gasp and sudden attempt to draw his sidearm and bring it to bear on the creature, it's likely you both would have become kibbles an' bits. (Key word here being "bits".) Actually? Maybe not.

The dog is almost impossibly fast. It darts past you both, a maelstrom of fur. The driver manages to get two shots off from his service pistol, but the dog dodges both of them! The first time it merely ducks, but the second time it manages to shift direction, leap up onto the back of one of the seats and then launch itself like a living bullet at the man. But the dog doesn't kill him. Instead it lowers its head and sends the man slamming back against the steering column with enough force that he's immediately rendered unconscious! Now the dog rounds on you. Ben, being Ben, tries to play the hero but only ends up getting knocked aside in what I can only describe as a bitch slap after his bid to lock the canine in the sights of his hunting rifle fails spectacularly.

The dog has you pinned against your chair. You could easily bring one of your own weapons up into its throat or its ribs and end it, but fear has left you paralyzed. You know that it would be the end of you if you try to make any sudden move. The dog leans in close... so close that you can actually see your terrified expression reflected in its ice-blue eyes. And then the creature speaks (in the voice of Denis Leary): "Listen here, girly. I like you. You smell nice. But if you try to put me down, you're goin' to have a real bad day. Got it?" You nod. "Good! So here's the deal, and I'm only goin' to offer it once.You get this thing off of me..." He turns his head up and away from you, revealing an explosive collar. "...and I will happily turn my fangs on that ugly bastard out there that's lookin' to turn your head into a codpiece. Whaddya say?"
#11178734 Jun 16, 2015 at 10:40 PM · Edited 3 years ago
520 Posts
((It has been approximately two weeks since my last post and neither Naga nor Sev have made themselves available to assume their roles as Viktor and Deoraí, so by GM's decree I will be moving things along to the next person in line. Qu? You're up. ))
#11183456 Jun 18, 2015 at 12:11 AM
334 Posts
Abel could only gulp. He'd heard stories from his parents of the old world robots and all that, and he was aware of the Mr. Handy's that were...well, handy around their caravan settlements way back where danger wasn't a constant issue. But this thing? It made the Mr. Handy look like an every possible way.

He was fairly certain he almost wet himself.

Abel shook as he slowly turned toward his provider of warmth and a home (of which both were gone now, though one not entirely by choice) and he coughed into a fist. He wasn't a fan of interrupting meetings between loved ones - as he was on his way to have an event similar soon - but he needed to get out. Now.

"Ahem...uh..." The young man's face essentially lit up as all eyes landed on him. "Thank you for the lodging, Sir Backus...but I really need to get going. I hope you have a fine day!"

Abel couldn't skitter towards the door any faster, gear jingling all the way (ha ha ha!).
#11187368 Jun 18, 2015 at 07:55 PM · Edited 4 years ago
108 Posts
Azzie blinked over at the clinking man trying to quickly yet subtly, she'd probably use the word waddle, his way out of the place. Azzie took her arms from around her uncle, making her way to the scared and pathetic looking man who was still clinking towards the door.

With her own clink her arm fell on his shoulders, stopping him rather quickly in his tracks. "Where are you going, schätzchen?" Though her voice was very serious, she had the biggest smile on her face you could possibly imagine. To Abel she probably looked like a crazy person right now.

Now, speaking in more of a baby voice and moving her face closer to him. "Did da big bad robot scare da wittle human?" She did a little fishy lip face before laughing. "You should not leave simply because some robot made you wet yourself, liebe. Where you heading off to in such a hurry anyways? The snow has begun falling again, so I doubt you will get very far." The woman's face seemed to examine Abel's own quizzically, all the while holding him still from his shoulders.
#11187623 Jun 18, 2015 at 09:56 PM · Edited 4 years ago
215 Posts
To say that Atlanta was surprised would be...well, an extremely accurate assessment of her feelings.

"Sure," she whimpered. The beast exposed its neck with a snarl, and Atlanta went to work. It was rather simple; not exactly a complex design, but it would certainly keep a being without opposable thumbs from cracking it.

"There," she said as she pried open the collar at last. The wolfdog shakes his fur, letting out a growly sigh as his paws came off of Atlanta and onto the aisle of the bus.

No words. Just action. Darting out of the gaping hole he had entered in, Atlanta and Ben could only look on in astonishment as their new ally rammed into the big yellow fucker that was fixed on ripping our heroes a new one. With an audible skid and visible kick-up of dust, the Super Mutant was knocked to the ground with a thud.

The mutant tried to overcome the wolfdog, attempting to wrestle his way out of the beast's pin on him. Alas, unfortunately for him, this big pup wasn't anyone to mess around with. Within seconds, the Super Mutant was indefinitely pinned by his arms, and immediately following, lost his throat. In a bloody gargle, Ben could have sworn he said "Puppy..."
#11190695 Jun 19, 2015 at 04:51 PM · Edited 10 months ago
520 Posts
((Since Ardenith has decided to join the game I have found it necessary to revise the posting order once again.

1.) Zodai / Vara-Sarg-Raj-Jett
2.) Failen Vathfarli / Ardenith/Arellix
3.) Viktor Markus / Nagashi/Raythi
4.) Deoraí Dath / Sevrickk/Adri'el
5.) Abel / Qunai
6.) Azzie Abendroth / Ally/Tasha
7.) Atlanta Psomas / Cirsei
8.) Paladin Laurie / Sevrickk/Adri'el

Does that look good? Good! Movin' on!))

- - - - -


Failen, Viktor & Deoraí

((Failen's turn will come next go-around.))

Abel & Azzie
Leave it to Azzie's uncle to save your skin, Abel. "Ah, Azzie my dear I would sincerely appreciate it if you let Mr. Abel be on his merry way. He's volunteered to hunt for us you see." At these words the giant robot - who had actually maneuvered his way into the conversation between you and his friend kind of like so - looks at Backus... then at you... then back at Backus... then at Azzie. The girl holding you seems to be undergoing some sort of internal struggle as well, but ultimately she releases her grip on you and presents you with the door following a funny little bow. "Bis wir uns wiedersehen, Herr Jäger," she says to you as you pick up whatever gear you may have dropped when she quite literally latched onto you.

The frigid air comes as a relief. You're not a man who likes to be tied down to one place for long, your Caravan made sure of that when you were but a bubble blowin' baby. You take a good, oh, ten seconds or so to appreciate the contrast between the artificially brightened interior of the Knickerbocker and the naturally lit winter wonderland that now stretches out before you as far as your eyes can see. It is truly, truly beautiful. But time, as they say, is of the essence, and you still had one more day to go on the quota that you promised Backus that you would meet before you packed up and continued your journey north.

You pull up your fur-lined hood, put on your goggles, tug the one-half of an old ski mask up over your nose and mouth and then sally forth. Given that your chosen hunting ground lies in the very direction that the Knickerboxer's front doors face, it's an easy enough trek, and you're given more than enough time to appreciate just how large and complex a machine the Corsairs' mobile base of operations was. Several of the Corsairs even take the time to greet or otherwise acknowledge you, and their unexpected politeness is such that you find yourself almost unconsciously returning the favor. You also notice for the first time that the tank-like contraption is but one of several vehicles sporting the logo and the full name of the mercenary company (The Corsairs of Cortland County). Alongside a handful of snowmobiles and an old Hummer that had been outfitted with a plow (like so) so that it could serve as dedicated pathfinder vehicle, there was also this odd duck sitting in the rear. You can't tell exactly what the purpose of this particular machine is, but the smell of somethin' cooking burning is coming from it from the partially cracked door leading inside.

The nearby golf course that once existed just across the way from the old country club had long since fallen victim to the ravages of time and nature, but your destination lies just a ways beyond. Soon you realize that, golly, it sure is quiet. You know that kind of quiet that's not exactly unnatural but gets on your nerves because you're so used to there being something going on in the background? It's that kind of quiet. And while it does help you hunt and keep you alert of any potential nearby threats, it also starts to get on your nerves something fierce. Only one thing for that. Pulling your hands out of your pocket you tug up the sleeve of your right arm to reveal another one of your father's trusted keepsakes. It may have been the poor man's Pipboy, but you cherished it just the same. It even worked, too, thanks to meticulous upkeep, which was a plus.

A good thing about being so close to such a big city and other nearby settlements was that there was no shortage of short-wave radio signals to tap into. It only takes a few seconds for you to find the perfect song for your current situation. Much better! Your walk becomes a jaunt and time soon starts to just fly by as you come close to your intended destination. It's actually kind of funny, really, because the song ends just after you and the Buck spot each other, and you squeeze off a shot in his direction...

Azzie. You and your uncle had started talking at great length over drinks shortly after Abel had made his exit. The last time the two of you had been able to meet in person like this was during the summer of that same year, when he hired you and the rest of the Corsairs to track down a sneak thief that had absconded from the Knickerbocker with a priceless bottle of cooking sherry. Since then things hadn't been quite as exciting, but nevertheless rewarding. Wherever there was trouble and a person willing to pay to see it go away, chances were that you and your fellows were somehow involved.

"...I mean, it does seem like the two of you are destined for the same place after all." Backus finished saying. You study the man over the rim of your half-empty stein. "Ve might be able to squeese him in," you reply, thoughtfully. "If he ees as gut a hunter as you say, then perhaps he may be able to do more zen jus' free load." Your [currently unnamed] robot companion jiggles in a way that makes his mask flop wildly up and down in what you take to be an agreeing nod. You feel your eyes narrow suspiciously. "Vy are you doink zat?" you ask it. The jiggling stops. "Don't sink I forgot vat happent to ze last one ve decided to take een." The robot whines woefully and tilts his body forward in a dejected sag.

«At this point we cut briefly to a point in the past where the Corsairs are pinned down inside a building being slowly whittled down by concentrated gatling laser fire from the side of an Enclave Vertibird. The leader of the Corsairs (who has yet to exist as of this post) cries to his fellows: "I am open to suggestions!" Nearby a man who looks like he's just days out of a Vault speaks up. "I bet we'd be able to do some damage if one of us were able to get on board that thing!" Everyone looks at him with a "seriously?" face. The robot, on the other hand, seems to think that this is an excellent idea. So excellent, in fact, that he stands up and, to everyone's horror, grabs the Vault Dweller, who screams as he's hurled like a living javelin toward the Vertibird! Unfortunately for the poor sap his companion's aim was just a tad off, so rather than winding up in the crew bay he's instead sucked into an air intake. Fortunately for the rest of the Corsairs, the Vertibird explodes!»

Back in the present the doors to the Knickerbocker bang open and in comes Abel, lugging a Buck over his shoulders and carrying the carcasses of several smaller animals across his chest via a makeshift lash.

Abel? The experience and the walk back had done wonders to calm your nerves. In fact you feel - and likely look - positively radiant as you proudly haul your bounty into the dining area where the guests and everyone else was and place it all onto the counter of Olaf's station. But then there's silence as the Norwegian chef scrutinizes what you've brought him. Could it be that he was hoping for more? There was still a few more hours left, maybe you could -- but no.


A long pause. Absolutely nobody, including you, have any idea what the man just said. He seems to catch on quickly.

"This is good!"

And then the entire dining haul erupts into cheers. Olaf, beaming, claps you hard on the shoulder before pulling the carcasses behind his counter where he would soon begin to prepare them for consumption.


The following day brings a new start to you both, Abel & Azzie. It took some convincing but eventually an agreement was struck that would see the former of you accompanying the latter and her crew north. In exchange for helping them see that their unusual routine goes largely interrupted, you (Abel) will be given food and shelter for as long as you desire. That is of course if you do a good enough job! But, hey, if you can appease someone like Sir Thurston Backus III then you really ought to have no trouble with this unsavory lot. Lower standards and all.


Atlanta & Laurie
"Feh!" The wolfdog spit the chunk of flesh and mangled trachea out of his muzzle and onto the ground next to the Super Mutant's head as it struggled to breathe. "Alright you bitches, listen up! I'm top dog now, which means that you're goin' to be obeying my orders! So here's what you're gonna do! You're goin' to take your stabby-stabbies and your bangy-bangers and you're gonna drop 'em at the ground at your feet. And then? You're going to scram! Now! Or else!" The Bridge Trolls look from the large creature back to the Paladin and his Knights, who all simultaneously re-ready their weapons as if waiting for their canine overlord to give the order to shoot. This added emphasis at the end is enough to cause the horde of Bridge Trolls to scatter like roaches under a bright light.

Atlanta. The next time you see your new companion up close, he's bringing you the dead Super Mutant's over-sized Tommy Gun in the manner that a dog would normally provide its master with a stick that it was tasked with fetching. (Seriously, could his smirk get any bigger?) "The rest of you can take what's left," the wolfdog says, indicating only with his words the variety of weapons that now lay strewn about the battlefield. The Paladin and his Knights just look at one another.

- - - - -

((For those of you refreshing the page you will notice that there are now several paragraphs missing. I decided to delete them because I felt it would be better for Cirsei to really, truly get herself embedded in the scene. Helping change the wheel on the bus, helping collect loot, helping the Paladin and his Knights question the wolfdog, etc. Ideally Sev would be present to help me out by finally taking over control of Paladin Laurie, but sadly I don't see that happening, so here we are.))
#11207384 Jun 23, 2015 at 07:07 PM · Edited over 2 years ago
520 Posts
((I'd like to address a few things before we kick off this next round of posts. For starters, Ardenith has politely asked that I finish the scene that I started between Viktor and Failen last turn, which is why you're getting a second GM post before one's normally due. Rest assured though that he has not backed out of this RP and will be participating at a point in the near future! Secondly, until Sev decides to take control of him, I have decided to downgrade Paladin Laurie to the role of NPC.))

- - - - -

Failen, Viktor & Deoraí
Viktor. As soon as you've made yourself comfortable (or at least as comfortable as can be), the man across from you begins to speak. "Ezekiel 25:17. 'The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you!'"

And then, suddenly, with absolutely no warning at all, he produces a sickeningly familiar knife from inside the folds of his black long coat! A combination of fear and reflex has you going for your most convenient weapon, but it turns out that Failen is only interested in driving the blade into the table between you. You sigh, Deoraí sighs, hell practically everyone sighs as the tension of the moment dissipates with all the subtlety of an inappropriate joke.

The conversation that follows is a fascinating one, and one that you, Deoraí, are invited to partake in. The tl;dr of it (since the GM can't get into your heads well enough to write several paragraphs worth of exposition that would be guaranteed to stay true to the three characters currently in focus) is this: Failen claims to be a man of the cloth. If this is true, then he is immensely unconventional one. His methods of weeding out sinners with what he calls "holy fire" is what ultimately lead to him having a substantial reward for his capture placed on his head, for he subjected the son of a high profile crime lord to it after he (Failen) caught him attempting to rape a minor in some deserted back alley.

Of the dozens of head hunters that flocked to the Melting Pot to lay claim to the reward, only Viktor survived. Failen explains that this decision was based on the simple fact that he saw just a glimmer of innocence behind the man's scared eyes as he stared up at him from the ground following their one-and-only encounter at the time. But as a reminder that precious things - such as a life - can be easily snatched away, he took Viktor's most prized possession -- his hunting knife.

But rather than explain why he's decided to return the knife to you now, Viktor, he simply goes silent. If neither you nor Deoraí have anything to ask or otherwise contribute to the conversation, then he is simply going to finish his meal and leave. (You two are of course welcome to follow after him.)
#11216062 Jun 25, 2015 at 10:20 PM
334 Posts
"Of course, thank you again, Sir Backus." Abel smiled, grasping the older man's hand with both of his own. Even if he had paid to stay, the Gentleman's attitude and kindness made the few days here worth while. And so, with a final farewell, the young traveler parted ways with his friend and emerged from the Knickerbocker. Tugging at his fur-lined collar, he crunched the ever-constant snow beneath his stompers, trudging his way toward the massive vehicle of the Corsairs.

He had to admit, even with the established deal, he felt hesitant. The Corsairs, their leader, and that large mechanical...thing...yes, thing, had to be the oddest group he had ever laid eyes on. And being a caravaneer, he had the right to say that. But Abel had no choice, did he? A vehicle this big would certainly attract attention, and the added wheels made traveling north much quicker. And so, the rational side of his brain beat down his paranoia, and he clambered aboard.
#11221340 Jun 27, 2015 at 12:53 PM · Edited over 3 years ago
108 Posts
Azzie flopped into the chair next to Abel, yawning loudly as she did so. She glanced at him as the machine started to roll out. "Have you ever ridden on something like this before? Because I must warn you that it can be quite... bumpy." But before Abel was allowed a response, she grabbed a small paper bag from her back pocket and started retching into it loudly. Apparently the girl got road sick rather easily. "Entschuldigung." Once she had finished practically filling the bag with the contents of her stomach, she stood up and staggered off to find a place to rid herself of it.