Kan
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Post by Kan on Aug 14, 2009 3:57:35 GMT
It was inevitable, everyone knew that the path the government was on would eventually bring the fires to the planet, snuffing out life as they knew it.
The year is 2112, December 21st, one hundred years after the day the world ended.
They knew it was coming, the governments, the United States, Russia, England, they all knew it would lead to it, and it did.
On December 21st 2012 the first weapons were fired, no one knows who fired the first volley, anyone that may have died quickly in the resulting chaos and riots, the base brutality of humanity coming to the surface after a thousand years of it being repressed by higher thinking.
Those that didn't die from the nuclear explosions suffered radiation poisoning, which killed off just as many as the explosions.
But this wasn't the end, as in our nature, humanity managed to find a way to survive. Soon after the bombs fell and many died from the radiation that blanketed the Earth, a miracle began to show itself.
It seemed that a percentage of the survivors had a almost unnatural resistance to radiation, being all but completely unaffected by it. However even though they were immune, didn't mean all of them were the best humanity had to offer. The resulting conflicts and 'wars' generated a modern-day vision of an apocalyptic wasteland dystopia, City far in-between and small settlements dotting the landscape, which are constantly under attack by wandering raiders, nomadic wasteland tribes.
These scum of humanity is not the only risk to the residents of this new world, as some of those affected by the radiation also manged to have their molecular break down unnaturally halted. These people were shunned from society. Eventually they began to have children, who were also shunned. The resulting lead to these children grew up and began reproducing with their own kind, sometimes being cousin's and brothers and sisters, eventually creating a form of sub human.
These 'mutants' are stronger than the average human, much more brutal as well, and make use of simple tools to attack and kill. There are horror stories about the mutants taking people and eating them alive, and evidence being found is supporting these stories.
Natural selection has also been in overdrive, creating the creatures needed to survive in this new 'ecosystem'.
Now the majority of humanity strive to create a somewhat good life for themselves, the best living standards being in the old cities still standing after the wars and the nuclear fire, and that isn't even saying much.
One such city is Racuvak, in what was once known as the american mid west.
:RULES:
We all know em, we all abide by em.
"standard" post Apoc RP. tech level akin to modern day, when it comes to weaponry, with more improvisation when coming to other stuff, as most electronics were burnt out by the EM pulses.
This is a somewhat open ended RP, with a more Big picture plot after we start off.
I only ask for no mutant characters, anything else is cool as long as it makes sense for this setting, no power's of any kind either.
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Kan
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Post by Kan on Aug 14, 2009 4:31:14 GMT
Name: Kyle A. Macson Age: 20 Height: 6'0 Weight: 165-170 lb. Body type: Somewhat athletic.
Appearance:
A somewhat above average looking young man, his Brown/redish hair cut short, in the old military style. His face is hard and gripping, any form of innocence having been taken away long ago. His eyes show a fiery determination, and a respect for honor.
His Caucasian skin is well tanned, as a result of his living in the wasteland era of Earth's history of violence, a slightly well developed muscle structure easily visible.
He regularly wears his Grandfather's old United States Airforce ABU pants, which he found in an old military base store, which are still in some what decent condition, however it has gone to more of a earthen brown tone due to its use in the wastes, along with a grey and grimy t-shirt and tan hide jacket.
He carries a old and beat up looking AK style assault rifle, the wood having been bleached by constant exposure to the sun, slinged around his back, and an old 1911 .45 pistol.
History:
Born in a small backwoods settlement and raised the best he could by his parents. His childhood was uneventful for most wasteland era children, until when he was 16 his settlement came under attack by slavers, who burned his home to the ground and took many of the defenseless people. His parents were killed in the attack, and he himself barely escaped a life time of enslavement.
Young and naive he swore revenge against the band of slavers, however that was to wait, as he had to survive first. He fell into a band of raiders, both in an effort to survive and find the slavers he swore to kill.
After a year of traveling with these scum he left, no longer able to ignore what they did in his thirst for revenge. Since then he has become a wanderer, seldom staying in one place for long, and constantly looking for that band of slavers.
His most recent intel has led him to the city of Racuvak.
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Post by Ty on Aug 14, 2009 21:58:37 GMT
Hmm... I think I've got a good feeling about this.
Name: Lawrence Oswald Key Age: 29 Height: 5'9" Weight: 170 lb. Body type: Muscular, but somewhat slim
Unable to remember his birth name, Lawrence chose his own name, taking three he most liked the sound of. Among friends (and enemies) he is sometimes referred to as Loony Larry or Scary Larry, but to his face most people just call him Sir. He is an obvious sign of the times, with the devious cunning of a desperate man, and the demeanor of a hungry animal. On good days, he can be a valuable ally, but on others he's just a hazard to everyone around him.
Lawrence lives on his own in a dilapidated old apartment complex in Racuvak, usually moving from room to room each night to confuse would-be attackers. He wears the same filthy tank-top and jeans every day, and carries a brown pack full of weaponry, some looted and some improvised. He has about 6 different knives, a shotgun (unloaded, but he has strapped a knife to it as an improvised bayonet), a 10-pound hammer, and several lengths of steel chain. His home is usually bare aside from a place to sit and/or sleep, and some various flammable items, including matches, lighter fluid, and whatever else he has looted lately. He often uses fire to cook his own food, but mostly he just likes to burn things.
History:
From an early age, Lawrence was raised a slave. His parents were killed when he was very young, and the slavers were the only family he knew from then on. He was rowdy as a child and usually was beaten for not doing as he was told. This didn't do much to deter him, though. After a while, he didn't mind the beatings. They were the only real attention anyone ever paid him anyway.
As he got older, he learned to feign compliance to save his strength. Once he had lulled the slave masters into thinking he was docile, a simple but effective plan went underway. One night, he asked if he could be released from the sleeping area to relieve himself. The night guard complied, and led him out behind the slaver's camp. As soon as they were alone, young Lawrence used his own chains to choke the guard to death. He then snuck into the slave masters' tents and choked each of them in their sleep.
The next morning, the remaining guards began threatening and beating slaves, demanding to know what happened, but the slaves fought back, inspired by the promise of escape from the slave life. What started as an isolated incident turned into a minor slave revolt, and many people won their freedom that day.
Lawrence knew nothing of this, though. The same night he killed his masters, he took some of their gear and supplies and took off on his own, travelling all night. The wasteland climate was harsh, but Lawrence was bred by the slavers for the very purpose of surviving in these conditions. Within a few days, he made it to the city of Racuvak, where he started working for whoever he could to get by. When work was scarce, he'd hunt and kill for food. And not just wild animals, either.
To the present day, he has survived almost completely on his own. In a city full of dangerous lunatics, he's the cream of the crop. He can be friendly to those that are friendly to him, but most residents of his side of town know it's best to just leave him be.
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Post by The Spy on Aug 14, 2009 22:46:16 GMT
Oh my, I think I might have great fun with this.
OOC:We need ATLEAST one VAULT-TEC like person in here. :/
Name: Hiroki Matsukaze Age: 34 Height: 6'4" Weight: 220 pounds Bodytype: Muscular but not ripped.
As a very young child Hiroki was spared the harshness of the lives other people went through growing up, as his family was able to construct an underground fallout shelter shortly before the bombs fell, only allowing a few people at a time to inhabit the shelter just to keep the gene pool fresh with new DNA.
Within the luxuries of the shelter came with many amenities, such as a geothermal power supply, pure water, clean clothing, food dispensers, educational facilities and a gym, he was able to hone both his mind and body to near perfection.
Although on his 21st birthday tragedy struck in the form of a computer error, opening the shelter doors and exposing to the young minds of the shelter to an outside world they never knew existed.
Hiroki and some other wanted to leave, but the Shelter Council members denied them the right so Hiroki did what he seemed was right; Kill all who opposed, even his own family members.
He took the head of the councilmen and claimed his spot of power as his own.
To this day, he has made his followers into a personal militia and tradesmen, exchanging food or water for weapons and using the militia as vanguards for the home they now call "Under Haven", ruling his followers with a kind and gentle hand and smiting those who oppose him with deadly force and professionally maintained weapons.
Even though he has the protection by his men, he also uses a totally bizarre weapon: The Gunlance, this weapon both has the lance and the barrel as one, able to stab and fire at the same time.
He does have clothing, but he chooses to wear his black titanium armor, which doesn't give him much more than a really hard external shell, however, he doesn't wear a helmet.
OOC: Due to a storyline contradiction, only a few people know about the Haven, such as the traders.
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Post by Griggs on Aug 15, 2009 6:19:03 GMT
Name: Elroy 'Roy' Jackson Age: 22 Height: 6'1" Weight: 173 lbs Body Type: Thin and Scrappy, with a Wiry Musculature
Elroy was born in 2092 to a dirt farmer and dirt farmer's wife in a settlement called Dusty Roads, Missouri. A farming community for the most part, the town itself functioned much like one in the old West, and the buildings reflected the look with their wooden construction, with just enough rusty metal paneling to give it a touch of a third world slum. Poor by even post-apocalyptic standards, the whole settlement consisted of a main street with strictly necessary establishments (a law office, trader's post, saloon, church and a town hall) with a few houses attached and several farms outlying the area. As the name implies, it was a dirty, rustic community, but it was at least safe enough to make a living.
Though his childhood was secure enough from bandits and mutants, it was a difficult life, and, to Elroy, a mind-numbingly boring one. He hated the constant toil, the lack of excitement, and the thought of living out the rest of his life as a dirt farmer, and found he had the most fun at the saloon. From the age of 16 and onward, Elroy found himself a regular there, drinking and gambling, which he became quite proficient at. This proficiency would end up biting him in the ass, however, when at age 18 he ended up taking too much of a local gang member's hard-stolen cash one night. He was accused of cheating, and during the ensuing argument both men ended up drawing pistols, though Elroy was just a bit quicker with his .38 and shot the man dead.
With both the law and, perhaps more importantly, a gang on his tail, Elroy fled, dropping by his home only to gather up everything he had and say goodbye before hightailing it. In the next 4 years he's mainly wandered from place to place, never staying in one for too long and using his increasingly adept gambling (And conning. And fleeing.) skills to get by. It's done him fairly well, and he's the proud owner of a barely functioning motorcycle, which he drives wearing an ancient pair of leather riding goggles.
Elroy arrived recently in Racuvak, though he hasn't planned on staying long. Bigger cities mean bigger money, but it also means any local crime syndicates are larger and more well connected, people Elroy doesn't wish to stick around long enough to get to know. He's taken refuge in a motel operated in one of the nicer parts of town,if they can so be named. Wearing his old rawhide work clothes when he's on the road, Elroy typically dresses in a nicer fashion when gambling or running a con, in faded, though clean, dress clothes and respectable-looking jacket, which conceals his .38 revolver. He tries his best to look like a wealthier man to trick people into trying to win his money. More often than not, it works.
OOC: Sorry if I drew up a character more for a western, wasn't sure what you had in mind so I figured it'd be close enough for rock n roll.
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Post by Scorpio on Aug 15, 2009 16:51:48 GMT
Name: Adam Stone Age: 28 Height: 6'4 Body type: Athletic
Appearance: Blonde hair and blue eyes, tries to keep clean shaven as much as he can. Long hair tied back in a short ponytail.
His clothing consists of animal hide vest and trousers with belt with pouches, he wears fingerless gloves and brown sturdy travelling boots. His weapon is a circular hoplite style shield made of a strong alloy. Several scratches and bite marks cover his torso and arms.
History: Adam was raised in a tribal community living in the canadian wilderness, deprived of technology they turned to low tech methods, bow hunting, spears, flint knives and such. The Stone family were skilled in agility and wits, designing throwing weapons, Adam crafted his own shield to hunt his prey, both a handy defensive tool and powerful when shunting an opponent off, the edge driven into a limb or thrown.
In 2010 Adam faced an attempted assassination by a tribe member rivalling his family, after accidently killing him Adam left the tribes lands, being unable to prove his rival struck first with lethal intent. For two years Adam has travelled the wastelands, battling various raiders, slavers and mutants. His current leg of the journey has led him to Racuvak
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Kan
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Post by Kan on Aug 15, 2009 17:17:00 GMT
OOC:
Alright you're all accepted, save for Hira ATM, you have heard from me about this.
All in all, this looks like a good line up.
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Post by Ty on Aug 15, 2009 18:18:01 GMT
Am I the only one concerned that Elroy Jackson sounds too much like Elroy Jetson? Maybe we should just call him Roy.
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Post by Scorpio on Aug 15, 2009 23:13:37 GMT
Am I the only one concerned that Elroy Jackson sounds too much like Elroy Jetson? Maybe we should just call him Roy. To be honest, I'm most concerned about your character, Lawrence Oswald Key, L.O.Key, Loki, norse god of trickery
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Post by Griggs on Aug 16, 2009 2:13:25 GMT
OOC: Didn't notice that. Anyways, I wanted to name him Leroy, but that might give him the wrong feel in a different way, y'know? As in....
LEEEEEROYYYYY JACKSOOOOONNNNN!!
So yeah. But Roy sounds good, even if I have used it a few times in RP. I'll add that in.
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Kan
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Post by Kan on Aug 16, 2009 21:32:22 GMT
OOC: Ok let pluck this chicken IC:
Racuvak, a haven from the wastes, one of the few remaining 'big' cities, that ain't saying much, considering the hive of villainy and corruption. But this is normal for anywhere in the Wastes.
In a somewhat middle scale saloon a young man is sitting at the bar, leaning towards the bartender, as if he was speaking to him, a stale beer in his hand. "Sorry kid, there's slavers every where these days, I don't know how to tell the difference between one group to the next" The old bartender says to the young man.
The young man sighs, "Come on, I was told you would be able to help me" he says in an exasperated tone, clearly aggravated. The bartender holds up his hands in a defeating gesture, "Hey like I said, sorry kid, you got a bad tip, I wish yah luck though" the bartender says before he goes off to tend to another customer.
The young man sighs before taking another swallow of the stale beer ans sits back in the chair.
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Post by Griggs on Aug 16, 2009 23:16:55 GMT
In the same saloon, though at a table across the room, Elroy Jackson sat at a table, shuffling a deck of cards. He did so as ineptly as he could, and with his clean clothes and naive look, most people would have figured Roy for a child who had wandered into a man's world. A group of dusty men, after getting their drinks and wearing heavy work clothes and obviously off their shift and some place, spotted him and headed over. The lead, a slightly bigger, somehow dustier man, walked up to talk.
"Well, what do we have here, boys? Looks like some big plantation-boy just got off his papa's ranch and headed to town. And he's got a deck a' cards! Ain't that just quaint." The lead man was obviously putting on a show for his friends.
"Well, sir, if you're interested in playin', there's more'n enough seats. I've got cash." The lead looked at Roy in an almost hungry manner, calculating in his head exactly how much he could win off this boy. A week's pay? Quite possibly. One of his friend's spoke up behind him.
"Careful, Skeeter, he could be a shark." The man sounded used to warning Skeeter about such things, in a manner that showed he didn't expect to be heeded. He wasn't.
"Alright, boy, I got no qualms 'bout takin' your money. You got yourself a game."
They all sat down and began, Roy shuffling and passing out cards a bit more professionally than he had before. Hands came and went, and the pile on Elroy's side grew a little bit each time. Skeeter, on the other end, became visibly more frustrated as that happened. They bet money, ammunition, and one even put in a functional, if tarnished, razor. Skeeter's friends didn't last long, having only put in smallish amounts to play with, and it was soon only Skeeter and Roy playing. With only a few hands left on Skeeter's side, a wide grin suddenly came over his face.
"All in."
His friends looked around nervously at the two, at Skeeter's hand and Roy's. Elroy kept his cool, however, and analyzed the situation. Skeeter could be bluffing, and he may actually have a good hand, but more likely it was a bit of both. Roy figured he had a decent hand, and what he figured was a great idea. Still, it was risky...
"I call." Roy put forth all of his winnings. At this, Skeeter's smile diminished a little, but not all the way. He laid down his hand with confidence.
"Full house, fours and jacks." A good hand. Roy looked at his cards for a moment, and then laid down a two. And then another two. And another two. And another.
"Four deuces, straight up. The pot's mine. Good game." He put out his hand to shake, but Skeeter just threw his hands angrily in the air.
"You cheated! You damn snake, you tricked me!" He pointed angrily at Roy, yelling loud enough for the rest of the bar to hear him. Roy just looked at him, poker face on. "I did no such thing."
Skeeter almost yelled again when his friend from before put a hand on his shoulder. "I warned ya, Skeeter. Game's over. Just cut yer losses and let's leave." As they turned, Roy spoke up one last time.
"Y'know, I have a deal, I always cut with marks. You can have your last hand back, whatever you put in. No strings attached."
Skeeter stopped, and turned to face Roy. "Keep the damn money." And, as an afterthought, "And get a real job." They left, and Elroy allowed himself a smile as he scraped his winnings into his bag.
OOC: Holy Christ, that was long. Also, yes, I named the guy Skeeter. Sue me.
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Oct-taku
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Post by Oct-taku on Aug 17, 2009 1:30:55 GMT
Name: Jerald Engel Age: 29 Height: 6' Weight: 130 lbs. Body type: Sturdy, yet tall.
Appearance: Jerald is usually quite recognizable, especially at close-range. His skin has a nice tan due to weeks at a time under the sun. He dresses in a leather duster, which has certainly seen better days. He cimbines this with a wide-brimmed hat in order to better withstand the sun.
Jerald's blond hair has been almost bleached by the sun, and his brown eyes are evident behind the pair of old glasses he wears to correct his far-sightedness. His most noticable feature, however, is his last name, tattooed onto his right cheek.
History: Born to a large clan of semi-nomads, Jerald makes his living by wandering the wastes. He escorts people and goods from settlement to settlement and, barring that, hunts. He came to Racuvak on a job, as he has numerous times before. He likes it there, mostly because the booze is good.
Oddly enough, his equipment is below even the usual standard of wasteland weaponry. Whereas many others arm themselves with "modern" firearms, Engel uses a home-made flintlock rifle, which he is extremely proficient with.
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Oct-taku
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Post by Oct-taku on Aug 18, 2009 0:33:06 GMT
Am I the only one concerned that Elroy Jackson sounds too much like Elroy Jetson? Maybe we should just call him Roy. To be honest, I'm most concerned about your character, Lawrence Oswald Key, L.O.Key, Loki, norse god of trickery Sorry to double-psot, but has someone been reading American Gods?
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Post by Ty on Aug 18, 2009 19:52:42 GMT
To be honest, I'm most concerned about your character, Lawrence Oswald Key, L.O.Key, Loki, norse god of trickery Sorry to double-psot, but has someone been reading American Gods?Maybe Scorp has, but I've just seen The Mask a dozen times. (IC post coming soon)
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Post by Scorpio on Aug 18, 2009 20:21:37 GMT
Sorry to double-psot, but has someone been reading American Gods?Maybe Scorp has, but I've just seen The Mask a dozen times. (IC post coming soon) Ultimate Avengers actually, where the norse god Loki leads a takeover of america. Frankly, Neil Gaiman scares the ever loving hell out of me. ic: Adam sat at the bar, his shield over his back, watching the card game subtly. Once the group lost to the one out of towner. He ordered another pair of beers and walked over to the table. Placing one of the drinks next to the man. "Courage like that earns you much respect where I come from, sadly here I can only offer a free drink." "That took some guts." He sat down on the opposite chair. "Most towns when a local loses that bad he'd play the xenophobia card and have you lynched. One has to respect the risks you take in and out of the game." "Or perhaps you used more than guts." He eyed the cards suspiciosly. "Sorry, I'm being rude." He offered a handshake. "Adam Stone."
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Post by Griggs on Aug 19, 2009 16:26:33 GMT
Elroy calmly examined the man for a second before shaking the hand.
"Pitt. Jedediah Pitt. And if you're implying that I cheated, well..."
He chuckled and took the drink.
"Let's just say that if I hadn't been winning, I could've if I'd wanted to. But it generally ain't too hard to play fair with townies. They don't hide themselves all that well. As for getting lynched... well, I don't typically stick around that long."
He took a sip of his liquor and set it back down.
"So, you're obviously and out-of-towner. What brings you to this dusty l'il hole in the wall?"
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Oct-taku
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Post by Oct-taku on Aug 20, 2009 1:21:40 GMT
OOC: Just waiting until Kan gives me confirmation that I'm in....
Hint hint.
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Kan
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Post by Kan on Aug 20, 2009 4:08:54 GMT
OOC: Oh shit, sorry, your in.
IC:
"God damn it, I thought I had it this time" the young man mutter's to himself before standing up off the old stool. The man glances over at the gambler and the fellow with the shield before he starts out the saloon's doors.
As he walks along the old beat down dirt/asphalt road he keeps his hand close to his holstered sidearm. He stops at a small stand selling fruits and glances at the selection, contemplating on buying something.
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Post by Oct-taku on Aug 20, 2009 9:31:48 GMT
OOC: No problem XD
IC:
The door to the saloon that was seeing so much activity flew off of it's hinges as a booted foot kicked it in. Heavy footsteps announced that the door-kicker was actually entering the place, as well.
He was tall, with short blond hair convered by a wide-brimmed hat. Slung across his back was a flintlock musket, on that had seen much use. Under his leather duster were no doubt several back-up weapons.
Jerald Engel had arrived.
"Dammit." he said, looking at the saloon door which had been taken off his hinges by his foot...for the third time that month.
"Sorry....I'll uh...Yeah, usual stuff for that." he said, offering to pay, yet again, for it's repair.
After that, of course, he had a beer.
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Post by Scorpio on Aug 20, 2009 13:16:59 GMT
"Well I'm from the northern tribes, what used to be the Yukon you know?"
He downed half the bottle.
"There was some unpleasantness, attempted assassination, self imposed exile, so now I'm just taking things one day at a time, seeing what turns up."
He was distracted as another newcomer kicked in the door. Ready to grab his shield if anything went down.
"so far, it's looking to be an interesting day."
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Post by Griggs on Aug 20, 2009 22:54:23 GMT
Elroy eyed the man with the duster carefully, but ostensibly was still nursing his drink.
"You plannin' on being in town long, then? Cause there's a lot of money to be had around here... and I think I might know a few ways to get it. If yer interested."
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Kan
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Post by Kan on Aug 20, 2009 23:16:20 GMT
OOC: Ty, Kenji, if your gonna post an intro I suggest you hurry
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Post by Oct-taku on Aug 21, 2009 1:49:32 GMT
As Engel paid for his mug of beer, he again apologized profusely for breaking the saloon door. It has been stuck, and he wasn't thinking...
The bartender assured him he didn't have to pay....this time.
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Post by Ty on Aug 21, 2009 4:05:05 GMT
Larry was seated in the corner of the bar, by the door. He didn't have anything to drink; he was mainly there for the people watching, as he often did when he had some downtime. Aside from the simple entertainment value, it was a good way to find out certain things. Who was new in town, who was causing trouble for whom, and things like that.
There were a few newcomers, but Larry payed special attention to the one who'd been asking questions at the bar. He looked like he was here alone. This was good for two reasons. One, loners are often looking for help from others, and Larry was between jobs at the moment. Two, if they don't want help, the fact they're loners means no one is likely to miss them...
After the one guy got everyone's attention kicking the door in, Larry slung his bag over his shoulder and slipped out the open door. He looked in the direction the newcomer had gone, and saw him near a fruit stand. Larry walked toward him a bit, just enough to keep him in sight, then stopped and began feigning interest in another vendor's wares.
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Kan
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Post by Kan on Aug 22, 2009 1:06:44 GMT
The young man glances over towards the new man, the one looking at another stall, he recognized him from the bar.
He shakes his head, not finding anything he wanted and started walking again, heading into an alleyway.
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Post by Scorpio on Aug 22, 2009 17:15:52 GMT
"I'm always interested in eating. What kind of work do you have going?"
Adam slipped his shield off his shoulder and placed it next to his chair.
"I gotta warn though, my skills are more suited to tracking and hunting."
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Post by The Spy on Aug 22, 2009 18:11:50 GMT
KA-BOOM!!!
The large explosion resonates across the wasteland as Hiroki and his lab techs stand behind a blast shield.
"Program the collectors to only bring us only lead this time, we need more ammunition for the next shipment."
Small rocks sent high into the sky now start falling down on the blast shield and Hiroki brings out his shortwave radio attached to his armor.
"This is Chairman Matsukaze, I need 10 Vanguards to cordon off section 35X, standard equipment set up, non lethal sonic rifles and lethal side arms just as a precaution."
He places his radio back into the slot in his armor and faces his men.
"I need to go to the town and meet the traders at the local bar, I want this done before I get back I'll be back here before sundown."
They nod and one passes me a HK-MP5N and a Smith and Wesson 500 and he slings the Sub Machine gun over his back and the pistol in his side holster.
"The Vanguard will be here in about 4 minutes, in that time I'm certain you fellows can hold down the fort till they come."
He smiles and starts walking towards town, getting there in about half an hour or so.
"Oh man....someone kicked down the door...again?"
He steps inside and looks around to find nothing suprising, a few drifters here and there but the usual people as always.
"The usual sort...? Hmm."
He moves towards the bar and sits down, the chair creaking under the weight of his armor along with his own.
"And now, time to wait...."
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Oct-taku
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Post by Oct-taku on Aug 23, 2009 0:14:46 GMT
"I'm sorry, did someone just say 'work'?"
And before you knew it, Engel had pulled up a chair next to Adam and 'Jed'. "Sorry, I know it's rude to put myself into a conversation like this, but someone said the 'double-you' word.
"Jerald Engel. Escort, guide to the Wastes, and hunter when business is slow."
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Post by Ty on Aug 23, 2009 1:17:54 GMT
Larry watched, grinning. If this guy knew he was being followed, he wasn't being very smart about it. The streets of this city were dangerous enough for a drifter; the alleys were worse. He followed the guy into the alley, then took a quick look around to be sure they were relatively alone.
"Hey there, stranger," he said. The tone of his voice wavered around somewhere between friendly and 'you got a perty mouth'. "I heard you asking a lot of questions at the bar. I'd be more careful if I were you. You know what they say about curiosity, right?"
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