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 The sun rises in the east, just like it does every morning. Not even the end of the world stopped the sun, and for that, all were grateful. At least most. The sunrise is gorgeous, if anyone cares to look. Many that focus on it have nothing else to. Some rise with the sun. Some have been up for hours. Some never get up at all. The Island is small, really, and day breaks quickly across the landmass. But this morning, the first to see it rise is Sansa Merci, standing facing east, talking to Zeb. What's the chat about? Could be business, could be personal. Could be personal business. Either way, it seems pretty important. Dick, for you, the sun is a big help. Much harder to hide in the bright light of day. Who are you and your gang chasing? Why? Surprisingly (or perhaps not for those who know him), Toyman's got one of the biggest armories on the whole Island. Of course, who knows what shape any of the weaponry is in, or where it can be found in that mess. Shh, don't call it that to his face. Regardless, the man's got guns. This morning, someone's knocking on your door. They're not knocking it in, though. Maybe Big Sven wants to deal? Sethro, well, that didn't go well. What the gently caress happened last night? Why's the door not closed? Good work scavenging, Ebbs. Seems like a couple of big wrecks washed in over the past few days, doesn't it? Must be that time, whatever that time means. Weather's generally been good, but then again it usually is. Can't just be the weather causing ships to wreck here, can it? Anyway, you seem flush with jingle. Business has been good. Where's the best market you know? Nice to be buying instead of selling, isn't it? What, you were expecting some sort of luxe story? Give it time. You've just met the important characters, the best is yet to come. --MC Other important motherfuckers (spoilers): Dramatis Personae Captain Foo fucked around with this message at 05:49 on Dec 2, 2014 |
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Apr 3, 2014 00:13
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Sansa Merci "God damnit Zeb." Sansa rubs her forehead with the heel of her hand. Her drawling accent would have been unplaceable before things stopped. Behind her, Gregor, as always, faces the other way, watching her back. "You gotta stop buyin' and sellin' with those shore rats! For one, they're violatin' my god damned shore and I'll gut 'em if I catch 'em at it, and for another-" Sansa gestures at the slowly cooling body- "they keep trying t' kill you! One day, one of 'em is gonna get lucky and THEN where will I be when I need to unload poo poo nobody else will take?!" She sighs with exaggerated exasperation. "I come by to be neighborly and let ya know we've got a fresh bunch of good stuff for you to make some offers on, 'cause I know you're interested, and this is what I see. For poo poo's sake, Zeb, work with me here! You're my favorite money sack, and I'd hate to see ya get shot by one of those shitsuckers."
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Apr 3, 2014 00:55
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Sethro Sehtro groans as a lance of pure sunlight manages to penetrate the...wide open front door and lay directly across his eyes. He squeezes them shut even harder in the hopes that the sun will vanish but to no avail. He slowly pulls himself along the floor using mostly his legs while his arms slide bits of random electronic junk off the floor out of his way. Somebody overturned most of the good stuff onto the goddamned ground and now the high powered transistors are crunched up in suspiciously footlike patterns rather than tucked away in their proper desk drawer. He manages to get the door shut and slides up sitting against it before finally opening his eyes, blowing his hair out of the way to get a look at the studio. Completely trashed. Besides the materiel overturned onto the ground it looks like several bottles or pipes worth of glass were smashed into one corner that also happens to harbor quite a bit of garbage in the form of burnt out components and half-eaten food. Sethro manages to stand and stumbles his way to the desk and finally lets himself breathe as the headset sits on his head. "Good morning everyone, this is Sethro with your morning news. Something exciting happened here at the studio last night, could've been better but it was a learning experience. If you weren't listening last night it was an open call to have a combination studio tour and tech-jam to try and up my broadcasting power. As I scan about the studio it looks like we failed and the equipment might need a bit of tuning before I get back to optimal ranges. SOME rude little rat dick left my door wide open when I was asleep, which is a big no-no here at the studio, meaning that any creature of the night could be in here with me as we speak! Any enterprising cryptozoological enthusiasts should feel free to come on up to Wolf Mountain to report in on what creepy crawly is currently hunting me. Stay tuned everybody as we go now to the morning's numbers: Seven. Forty five. Fourteen. Eighty-nine. Forty. Fifty-six..." Reading the numbers is like second nature to Sethro so he takes this bit of free time to tidy up his desk a little and also keep an eye out for anything that seems particularly out of place, be it some bit of electronica he needs to replace or some monster ready to devour his head.
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Apr 3, 2014 01:54
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The Toyman Another beautiful morning, the clocks on the wall say it's 3:18, 8:40, 9:34, and 26:82. And there's someone at the door. The Toyman scrabbles about in the clutter of relics that passes for a living room, setting some things on the old cable spool he uses for a table. "Just a moment, just a moment, all things come in ticks and tocks, sir!" "Big Sven!" he exclaims happily as he opens the door. "Come in, come in, the time is good," he glances over his shoulder at the clocks on the wall, "yes, the time is good, what may the Toyman pull from his boxes, and what will go in again?" He sits himself at the table, gestures to another makeshift seat, and says, "Tea?" He holds up a pink plastic Barbie teapot with a hole the size of his thumb in the bottom. The cups and saucers match, albeit with a handle missing from one and a wedge knocked out of another.
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Apr 3, 2014 03:30
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Dick loving. Okay. So, there's some history to this one. The short version is, we're going after Blonde Josh and his kid, Fabio. Blonde Josh is really goddamn handsome. Chiseled, tanned, wind-blown, sculpted, whatever, and bleach loving blonde. He's also a lazy, lying, sadistic, wife-beating piece of poo poo whose last good idea was packing up and moving somewhere way over south where none of us have to look at his gorgeous rear end in a top hat face. He had a kid with Sue, who lives near here. I don't know her too well - think she's kinda nervous around me, so I don't push to get friendly - but I have it on good authority that she's some kinda sweetheart, and she's current on her tribute. My buddy John Henry, our human fuckin' locomotive, started shacking up with with her a few years ago, immediately before Blonde Josh got wise and bugged out. They've been going steady for a while now. Little Fabio, four years old and with brown hair like his mom, has started calling John Henry 'dad.' It's pretty loving cute. poo poo, J.H is gonna be wrecked when he finds out about this. So; hour or two before dawn, we hear a bunch of gunshots from Sue's place - near the river, downstream from the mill. The sound really carries. I take five guys, we load up and head out to see what the hell. By the time we get there, Sue's pale and half-conscious after getting stabbed in the gut with, I don't know, a big pottery shard or something. The shots were a call for help, she had her gun in a drawer during whatever went down. I didn't stick around for the whole story - she said Blonde Josh took her kid and ran, we went after him. I told Black Dave to stay with her and try to wrap up the wound, but Black Dave ain't a doctor, and I ain't optimistic. My guess is that Blonde Josh didn't come over here with the intention of killing Sue. Maybe he didn't even plan on kidnapping his son. It's real bad timing for that. Maybe he rolled up with the baby-I've-changed spiel, she didn't bite, and he got angry. I hate getting involved in this kind of poo poo... but my buddy's girl, also a tenant in good standing, is probably bleeding out, and the West Shore Khans will not suffer that kind of motherfuckery in their territory. Blonde Josh is on foot and carrying a toddler. We're spread out in a pretty wide fan, riding at low speed, off-road, between trees and thick brush and poo poo. It's a steamy morning and I can feel the dew collecting on my face, cool as it mixes with my sweat. I slow to a halt and hold up my palm. Few seconds later, my buddies notice the signal and all come to a stop, too, motors idling with a sexy fuckin' purr so we can pause and have a good listen for our runaway. Can't hear him, no surprise, but he definitely came this way, through the Thick. If he'd'a started running out in the open or along the shore in any other direction, we'd have run him down half an hour ago. I feel like he's close. Probably hiding. I make a motion, like I'm holding something up to my lips, pinky extended. Chloe takes the hint and pulls out The Conch, gives it a long, low blow. It echoes for miles - if you're hearing that horn, depending on which side of it you're on, it means either 'get pumped' or 'kiss your rear end goodbye' because poo poo is going down in a hurry. I clear my throat while the horn's resonance fades, and shout, "JOSH! Only way you gonna live through this," I take a breath, "Is if you give up NOW! Apologize, take your lashes, and we'll let you visit the kid once in a while." Mario holds up his big-rear end revolver and gives me a cock-eyed look, like, we're not going to waste this rear end in a top hat? I shake my head a little. His kneecaps are forfeit if he doesn't have a drat good story, but I'm not lying. Besides, for John Henry's sake, priority one is getting the kid back in one piece. +Hot, last olive branch you're gonna see: 2d6+1 7 Maybe I'm way off if I think that'll work. Maybe he's got other ideas. Maybe it's too early to roll. Who the gently caress knows? StringOfLetters fucked around with this message at 17:21 on Apr 3, 2014 |
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Apr 3, 2014 05:26
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Zeb follows the gesture with his eyes, hand covering the blade at his hip. A drop of blood drips and sinks into the sand, but Zeb himself looks none the worse for the wear. Clearly good in a fight, Sansa Merci, despite your concern. He's not concerned much either, with a half a shrug and half a wave to your words. "Is that all I am to you, a money sack?" He smirks, then recovers into a real smile. "I don't have to buy here, you know. Plenty of shipwrecks all across the island. But I always find a way to have the best stuff in return, you know?" Gregor coughs, whether or not he needed to is unclear. "So let's not worry about the rats and who I'm buying from or selling to. I'm more that capable of gutting them myself, you know?" Now it's his turn to wave at the corpse. "Now, let's talk about your goods," Zeb says, chuckling. "Ticks and Glocks sound good to me, Toyman," Big Sven replies as he walks in. "I need guns, and you have guns." >>WELL YES I DO<<< "Not much of a tea drinker, though. Hope you're not offended. Anyway, I was hoping I could get five, six pistols, maybe a rifle or two. You got?" Big Sven seems rather well put together today, his last deal probably went all right... The Thick just rustles back, Dick, just a breeze and the leaves for your troubles. And then a voice calls back, sounding like deeper into the forest than you thought. Good thing that Conch gets attention. "How do I goddamn know you're not just gonna smoke me?" It's hard to hear him over the breeze and bikes, but that's definitely Blonde Josh. Something else about Mario floats in, but it's too faint to make out. "...twenty-eight, five, eight, zero, two, one, fifty-four," you hear the count finish, Sethro. It's not written anywhere, but that's what today's numbers were, weren't they? The morning has gone from bad to worse, as in your door, counting your numbers, is Badman in his never-seasonable coat and hat. And he is, of course, leveling a speargun at you.
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Apr 3, 2014 23:12
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Dick poo poo, further away than I thought. I can see Mario get off his bike, crouch down, and start looking for a stealthy way to approach on foot. Not likely he'll pull that off, the thorny-rear end bushes and huge banana leaves over towards Blondie are bring-a-machete thick. Glen tries to scope Josh out with his rifle (an old-rear end bolt-action Russian thing with half a binocular taped on top) but there's no clear line of sight yet. I motion, 'down.' I gesture up high like I'm turning keys, and my buddies follow suit in putting their motors to rest. The dull growl of our wolf-pack of engines gets replaced by the background buzzing of a hundred thousand insects and a handful of birds. It's a little quieter. I shout back, "A, my word is loving golden." He's probably too on-edge to remember how much of a stand-up individual I am. I take a breath and say, "B, I'd feel like an rear end in a top hat if Fabio got caught near crossfire. We ain't heard your side of the story yet. How 'bout y'all come out and tell me what the gently caress happened back there?" I dismount, take my Thompson and its shoulder strap off, and leave it on my handlebars while I walk forward a little. Right out in the open - as open as it gets in the thick - neon orange flak jacket making the point that I ain't trying to hide or pull anything.
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Apr 4, 2014 00:04
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Sansa Merci Sansa chuckles, a hee-haw of rough mirth. "Well, fine. Enough of the banterin', then. To business. I got a load of gen-u-ine brain fryin' happy pills that done washed up on my shore. For obvious reasons, I don't want that nonsense getting out and about 'mongst my crew, but I know you know people that want 'em. In return..." Sansa idly rolls a shoulder, unthinkingly. "I want first dibs on the best weapons and armor you can get your grubby little hands on. Minus the ones you keep for dealin' with the like of these." She languidly kicks the corpse. "I know you can hook me up, Zeb. That's why you're my favorite." She chuckles. "Well, I guess sometimes that Toyman fella has a good stock, but he's creepifyin'."
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Apr 4, 2014 00:21
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Sethro Sethro's eyes dart between speargun and to the crowbar at his feet. They make a half dozen round-trips before making their way back to the speargun then up to Badman's eyes. "Badman! How's your speargun doing right now, being pointed at me and all? How about we just talk this out whatever it is." He pops his hands up from his desk and smiles, the smile not quite hiding the fear in his eyes. His foot gently nudges the crowbar, not quite sure what he'd do with it (and with his foot even!) but it's comfort. Not sure if this is a Manipulate or not, but if it is here's a roll: Don't hurt me!: 2d6+1 8
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Apr 4, 2014 01:01
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Not a manipulate, you have no leverage
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Apr 4, 2014 03:38
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Ebbs It was a good day. The scavenging paid off and now Ebbs got a little extra coin to jingle. He managed to get Larry to help him haul the salvage to River Delta. Larry and Ebbs have known each other for a long time. Ebbs has done some work for Larry and Larry giving Ebbs a ride into River Delta is how that debt is paid off. After Ebbs got Zed to buy his salvage, Ebbs was ready to go to the Market. Yeah, the Market is the best place on the island to get separated form your hard earned money. Just about anything you can find for sale on the island can be found here. Ebbs likes to make sure he can most of life's necessities by home, but sometimes there's things you just can't find at home. Right now Ebbs was looking for some spices. He needed something to spice up the fish and other food he had at home. He knew someone at the Market would give him what he wants.
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Apr 4, 2014 06:08
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Sethro, Badman continues to recite the day's numbers, from "seven" through "four" and hitting every one of them, just as you would have. His speargun tracks from your chest to your foot as you move for the crowbar, and you can just make out the tensing of his arm as he pulls the trigger...What do you do? Whatever it is, you're acting under fire! Ebbs, Market's busy this morning. Doesn't seem like the place ever sleeps, one of the few places on the Island that can truly claim that. All sorts of things are on display for sale or trade from guns and knives to pants and shirts to men and women to roots and meats. And spices, too, after you find the right stall. But finding the right flavorings for food might be a little more difficult than you think. After all, any old rear end in a top hat can evaporate for some salt, can't they? Just how much are you willing to pay? When you make it known you want a thing and are willing to drop jingle to speed it on its way, roll+barter spent...(pg 90) "Dealing, dealing, dealing, Sansa Merci," Zeb replies. "I like what you're thinking, you know. But we can make a better agreement than that. Better than that weirdo ever could. Best deals on the island. That's why I'm still in business, you know. Among other reasons." Your conversation is interrupted by one of your gang checking in. "Coming in from off watch, Queen," Nimzovitch says. "Nothing too out of the ordinary, J.L's got his coffee and is ready to go. I'm gonna get my eats and my sleeps now," and keeps on walking. He mutters something else to himself as he spots the corpse, but probably rightly figures you've got it under control. Besides, he's off shift now anyway. "So let's do this," Zeb continues, not missing a beat. "I get the drugs. You get whatever weapons are already on the thing. I get the top piece of armor, you get the rest. I got a feeling here, so let's say I get top dibs on all the clothes and paper on the ship. In return, I come back in a week with...let's say a nice pistol, all prestige-like, for you. Big-rear end rifle for your top shot, wasn't that Bagel? I'll make sure I get something that fits her real nice, you know, but I'm gonna have to spend some time with her to figure that out, you know. I'll get you some helmets, too." "So's my piss, Dick, golden like the sun," Blonde Josh shouts back. "But I trust you, more than I trust some of y'all. So I know Mario's got that revolver. I wanna hear six shots in the dirt, and then he alone can come fetch me and Fabio." Of course. Disarm the bloodthirstiest and everything else should be okay, right? Then again, it's not like he's got a whole lot of leverage. Mario looks pissed. What do you do?
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Apr 5, 2014 02:43
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Sansa "C'mon Zeb, you know I already got the best weappy stock on the island. You can't lowball me like that," says Sansa. "Half of the top clothes and paper, not one bit more, and you got a deal."
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Apr 5, 2014 04:34
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"You know I know that, Sansa, you know?" Zeb shoots back. "That's why I didn't tell you I was getting you smigs and ammo crates, you don't need them. But I know you don't have a true sniper rifle, and I've seen the way you look at Dougie O'Malley's gun, you know? I promise I can get you a nicer one. So I'm keeping the top paper...and what's more in demand here, shirts? You get the shirts, you know?" Zeb steps closer, drops his voice. "Where there's brain-fryers, there's usually the nice relaxers too. I'll throw them into your, you know, private take. If I find 'em, you know." He steps back to his previous spot, leaving only his messy footprints in the sand. "Deal?"
Captain Foo fucked around with this message at 05:00 on Apr 5, 2014 |
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Apr 5, 2014 04:49
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Sansa "...deal" says Sansa, already hating the thoughts coming into her head. I need those relaxers. If certain folk were to take some, well... It's such a fake way o' livin'... but it's what I got.
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Apr 5, 2014 04:55
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Sethro Sethro's obviously a little intense but not everyone realizes the way he sees the world can come in handy instead of just weirding out strangers and friends alike. In this moment it's more related to the crossbow bolt potentially skewering him. Hit the dirt!: 2d6+2 14 Sethro dives for cover behind his desk and grabs for his crowbar while screaming out the next couple of numbers, potentially right along with Badman if he keeps up his copycat routine.
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Apr 5, 2014 07:25
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Dick Of course, Mario's got his gently caress that face on. I walk over to him, and the whole way there, he's eyeing me. He asks, "You seriously gonna do what that shitdick says?" I get up to Mario's face, keeping my calm, and put a hand on his revolver. He doesn't let go. And, you know, I get it. I really do. He's asking that Mario pretty much emasculate himself, and me having to make him do it is worse. I say, loud enough for the rest of my buddies to hear, "Man. Not here, not yet. Killing a man in front of his son is a hosed up thing to do. We don't scar kids for life 'less we have to. We play along with that rear end in a top hat for a few more steps, then he's ours." Hard: Pack Alpha, Imposing some Will: 2d6+2 10 He lets go of the revolver. Shakes his head, crosses his arms, mutters something like, "Whatever man," and that's fine. I didn't tell him to like it. I point it at the dirt and start wasting ammo. I know my way around a single-action, and I can fan one of these like you wouldn't believe, but I empty the cylinder slow and steady to make sure everyone has a chance to count all the way up to six. "Alright, Mario," I say, "You're up." And he goes.
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Apr 5, 2014 21:08
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Ebbs If he had to, Ebbs could live with the salt he made himself. He had to make do before, but with his gigs paying off Ebbs wanted to get something for his effort. The seller had a bottle of Chinese Five spice powder. Hard as hell to come by, the seller probably got it from some scavenger's lucky find on the beach. Ebbs decided he was going to drop some jingle to make sure he got the bottle of spice. Ebbs put up the coins they used at the market to let the merchant know he was interested. Looking into the merchant's eyes, he knew this wasn't going to be a simple purchase. 4 Barter at the start. Spending 2. Barter: 2d6+2 6
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Apr 6, 2014 08:48
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Toyman "Hmm, mmm, that's enough toys to share with several friends and a lot of not-friends. I think we can scare up about that many, yes we can, if the price is right. It's always nice to share with friends," The Toyman tilts the teapot over his own teacup. Naturally, nothing comes out. "But the friends of your not-friends could get angry and come find your friend," he gestures to himself with the teacup, "and share with him their displeasure. So, who will you be playing with, Big Sven?"
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Apr 6, 2014 22:36
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Big Sven smiles. "We go through this every time, Toyman. I can't tell you why I ask for things, it's bad for my business." He starts opening his bag, picking through. "So let's talk price." The tall trader pulls out a large silk scarf, with intricate patterning. It's very slightly torn on one side, but otherwise looks to be in strangely excellent condition. "Thought you might like this," Big Sven offers with sincerity. Ebbs, MacElhoe sells you the spices without too much hassle, once you find him, but something in his expression seems apologetic. As it turns out, he might have known something about the Market that you didn't. No more than a minute after you stash the small jar in your pack, a big hand reaches and grabs your shoulder from behind. "What kind of fuckin' rear end in a top hat can drop that many marketcoins on something that fuckin' useless?" Her grip is strong, and she starts to spin you around. "The kind of rear end in a top hat that's gonna give me mine, hm?" "Forty-three, twelve, zero, zero, thirteen," Badman continues. Sethro, in unison no less. That's it, that's the whole list. The bolt clatters along the concrete floor before embedding itself in the wall, through a shelf. The line on the speargun goes taut, "twenty-eight, forty-nine," and then slack as the speargun clatters to the ground. "Fifty-two," the two of you conclude. "Agreed," Badman says with a nod, and then turns on his heel and begins to leave. Zeb takes his leave quickly, heading off towards the wreck. "Queen," Gregor pipes up, "what's going on here? You almost never do business before an hour after sunup, and this wreck ain't that special." Dick - while others than just Mario disagree with you, after a bit of grumbling they don't say much. Graham keeps a whiteknuckled grip on his shotgun, for sure. There's some cursing and shouting and rustling in the bush after Mario disappears into the Thick in the direction of Blonde Josh, but it only takes a few minutes. Tension rises, as it's wont to do in the face of the unknown. Two, three, four minutes pass. Five, six, and in the sixth, Blonde Josh, Fabio, and Mario emerge. Fabio's up on Blonde Josh's shoulders, blindfolded with a bandana and mumbling. Mario's staring daggers at you, Dick, the reason for which is obvious. Blonde Josh has a gun to his spine, slowly pushing him through the woods. Chloe asks, incredulously, what everyone's thinking. "What the actual gently caress?"
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Apr 8, 2014 00:01
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Sansa Merci Sansa scratches her nose. "T' be frank, Gregs, I'm worried. It's been peaceful as hell for a month. No raiders, only the usual lil' poo poo-rats robbin' us, plenty of salvage... I ain't a believer in that much good luck. Somethin' big is gonna get us soon, mark my words... and I want us fuckin' ready." She smacks a fist into her palm, hammer-style. "Zeb's a fuckin' snake but he's a snake with connections. He'll get us what I, what we need to see us through any threat." Inside, or out. I know some people are gettin' restless. That bit goes unsaid, but Sansa hopes Gregor picks up on it anyway. "Maybe I'm wrong, and this is all just frettin'... but I'd rather fret and be wrong than not fret and get fuckin' shot."
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Apr 8, 2014 00:09
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Sethro With a similar intensity Sethro disregards the now-safe bolt and pops the top half of his head above the desk to try and catch what in the hell is up with Badman. He scans the room, but the only things that seem to make any sense as to what happened are the bolt he fired and the discarded speargun. Mental note to hold onto that and stow it away near the crowbar in case he comes back. Can't do that now, gotta get while the signal's still gonna be strong with this whole sitch. "Not that signal" he mutters as he unplugs the headphones around his neck from his jumble of radio gear and jams the end into one of his dreads. "Alright Island, you are liiiive here with Sehthro, what the gently caress just happened with Badman?" Open Your Brain: 2d6+2 9
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Apr 8, 2014 04:14
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"You fret a lot, Queen," Gregor replies, laconically. "Welllllll, hey hey hey my man my man Sethro, what's good? Tunin' in, tunin' up, yeah I'm liking it, man. You hear about the jaguar, Sethro? Aw yeah, I gotta tell you this one. So of course, this jaguar's sitting in a tree, right. Jaguars do that, man. One of the lady's men, you know the lady, right? Not gonna get distracted though, man, this jaguar jumps down from the tree, just pounces on that poor guy. Jaguar don't know any better, that's just what jaguars do. Wrong, jaguar has the guy dead to rights, but the cat lets him up, lets him stagger around. Just to see what he'll do, man. Just to see what he'll do. Weird story, huh man? Anyway, Sethro, you got a story, now you gotta give a story, you know how it works. Hmm...got it. Miller's Hill's on fire, whatcha know about it?"
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Apr 8, 2014 04:46
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Ebbs He turned slowly to take in the situation. Last thing he wanted was a fight, but sometimes you can't avoid it. He checked out the situation. His mind figured out the best way of getting out of here. He doubted this bitch would start poo poo up alone. He knew he needed to know who the biggest threat was and if there were any other complications in the situation. Read a sitch: 2d6 11 The three questions: where’s my best escape routet? which enemy is the biggest threat? what should I be on the lookout for?
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Apr 8, 2014 05:06
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Dick Jesus christ, these people. So angry, so impatient, so bloodthirsty. If you don't immediately gun down an unarmed man in front of his son, they're dismayed. Hobbes had it right, the natural state of people is brutal and lovely. This is why you need an even hand on the keel. The island needs a calm, rational person with some iron to back it up in charge of things. Chloe's all worked up, I'm not letting it get to me. I glance at Fabio. The kid's kind of funny looking, but maybe he'll grow into the looks. He's not loving blonde, thank god. I say, "Did you not hear me earlier? We're not a pack of goddamn animals. Josh here is going to get a chance to explain himself. Whatever we might do after that is going to be a matter of justice rather'n revenge." I split the family up. Glen's pretty chill, and he's a little younger, so Fabio rides back with him. Josh probably doesn't like where that's going, tries to hold us up for some tearful goodbye with his kid, but I pull 'em apart two words in. We dredge some zip ties out from our sacks of collected crap, get Blonde Josh by the wrists and ankles, and loving whatever, I'll take him back to the fort. I don't say anything more to him on the way back, which is my way of giving him a chance to talk. I really doubt he's got an explanation that'll make me happy. We're gonna find out if Sue is still alive. We're gonna give Fabio over to John Henry if she isn't. And we've got that big hole in the ground that Jin and Bear dug out trying to build a cooler-cellar or some poo poo - we can dump Blonde Josh in there until sentencing.
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Apr 8, 2014 16:04
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Sethro Sethro nods slowly as the maelstrom finishes up its story and he adjusts his mic for proper Radio Voice as it comes his turn to share. "Miller's Hill being on fire doesn't register much with me good buddy. Not a lot happening up there near the north shores except for uh, well, well Dick and his uh..." Seth blinks rapidly as the information settles over him. "How about we get a live story, we get some action news reporting when it comes to Miller's Hill and the wildfire that might spread to who knows the gently caress where." Sethro scrambles up, keeping the his headset plugged in, and heads for the door.
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Apr 9, 2014 05:16
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Sansa Merci "Yeah. 's what I do." Sansa turns and stalks off toward the marketplace she's sacrificed so much to build. "C'mon. Sun's risin'. Time to get to work."
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Apr 9, 2014 12:41
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Ebbs, you size up the situation rapidly. You're pretty good at that, most of the time. It's Puck, staring at you. Not sneering, not raging, mostly cross, really. She's definitely the immediate threat, but her gang could descend at any time, and that's when the trouble starts. If think you can get away from her and her crew, your best option would probably be to work your way closer to the Wrecks and Wracks. Closer you get to the heart of a community, the less they suffer other gangs. And Sansa Merci's gang is the biggest of them all. Sansa, the market is bustling already this morning. Arguments and haggling, re-selling and re-buying, profiteering and honest trade. You get a cut of it all. Ebbs might have been here to buy spices, but something tells me that's not why you came down. What's got your attention? Sethro, Dick - I'm still working on your piece. Sorry to keep you waiting.
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Apr 10, 2014 04:43
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Toyman Toyman sighs. "Business, business, business. Too many people playing grownup games, wearing grownup names, laying grownup blames. To business, then," he raises his pink teacup in a toast. "The cause of, and solution to, all life's problems. I think. It's fuzzy." He leans his elbows on the table and leans forward to look closer at the cloth. "Oh, aye, that's a pretty, that is." The scavenger reaches to one side, grabs the handle of a jump rope dangling from the ceiling, and pulls, pulling aside a section of metal sheeting on the roof to let a sunbeam onto the table. As Big Sven spreads the cloth in the light, the Toyman cocks his head, as if listening to something. "But you've been doing this before, trading pretty for dangerous. The Toyman's boxes are feeling light on dangerous, now they are, yes. Now it's obvious even to the King," a gesture to an old radio in the shape of Elvis Presley's head, duly emblazoned 'THE KING', "That you come here for dangerous and wouldn't like to leave any behind, but if you just want to trade old and pretty for dangerous, we'll be needing more." Manipulate?: 2d6 3 Maybe it's too early to ask, maybe Sven's got more in his bag, but the Toyman can just see the man's face close down.
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Apr 10, 2014 05:26
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Smoke rises from the hill. Wisps at the start, then clouds, then columns. It's visible to anyone that cares to look towards Miller's Hill. If there were any trees there, they'd be nothing but fuel now. Except, of course, that the trees in that area of the forest were cleared years ago, replaced by a little settlement. Can't say too many good things about the future of that settlement. The roar of the fire intensifies as a light wind rolls in from the ever-present sea, and the motorcycles sound like a quietly purring cat in comparison. Sethro, however, arrives on foot. What's he carrying to this little adventure? What do you see on him, Dick? Maybe he's got the answers. Maybe you do. Maybe no one does, maybe whoever knows is in the inferno; maybe they're out in the world. Things will never be the same on Miller's Hill, that's for sure. Sethro, how's Dick's gang reacting? To the fire, to you? Standing on the edge of hell can't be pleasant for anyone, though it's better than being inside, surely. "Look, Toyman," Big Sven says, friendly demeanor fading quickly, "if I was here to sell guns, I'd be selling guns. I'm here to get guns. You getting crazier? I ask to get guns, and you counter with 'no, give me guns.' Even Dumb Fabio knows that's not how these things work." Big Sven looks up at the skylight, and puts some scratched sunglasses on. >>>HMMM<<<
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Apr 11, 2014 04:18
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Ebbs "Give you yours?" Ebbs told her. "Now what would that be? I'm thinking that you didn't recognize me at first. I don't think I got anything of yours and you probably just want to move along. You remember Jetsam Jack? Yeah, he thought I had something of his too. He provided the local fish population with another meal. I'm thinking we can just go about our own ways and forget this." I assume since I'm threatening her, I use Seize by force? DocBubonic fucked around with this message at 22:16 on Apr 12, 2014 |
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Apr 11, 2014 19:19
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No. SBF is for inflicting violence without caring what happens to yourself. Going Aggro is for getting your way with violence backing it up.
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Apr 11, 2014 23:01
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Sansa Sansa's eyes crawl over the market. The market is always trouble, somehow, so she always makes a point to drop in whenever she has time, knock some sense into anyone kicking up a fuss. Something smells off to her this morning. "Gregor, my back, please... I feel trouble a'comin' in." Her hand drops to the knife belt at her waist, fingering her favorite. "I don't know what, but I see somethin' I don't like..." It's the people on her left, she realizes. They're moving too well, too coordinated for the market chaos- it's someone playing at chaos, not chaos. "Yeah. We got trouble. Form up." Read the Sitch: 2d6+1 7 • who’s in control here?
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Apr 12, 2014 16:00
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Dick "Motherfucker!" What more is there to say? You can't fight fire. I come to a stop, lean on my left leg still in the saddle, and watch the smoke rise. I run my hand through my hair, tryin'a think up a plan of action for this. No, I wasn't wearing a helmet; gently caress off, mom. My forehead's a little sweaty. Warm day, but not wildfire-from-nowhere hot. No thunderstorms around, obviously. My first thought is, someone lit that poo poo. "poo poo," I say. Couple of my buddies agree. I was thinking about making a public example of B.J. Little bit of courtoom-style declaring his transgressions, then a proper execution at sunset. That kind of thing makes a bigger impact than mentioning you wasted a motherfucker in the woods - I just wanted to keep the kid from that particular piece of business. Fabio's at a tender goddamn age. Looks like that ain't happening now. I take off B.J.'s blindfold (why'd Mario bother with that? rear end in a top hat knows where we're going) put my foot on his ribcage and shove him off my bike, back on the grass. I put my hand on the iron at my belt and ask, "Got any clues about that?" Whatever he says - and I will deal with him after he answers - everyone else gets some orders. "Glen, take the kid and go meet up with Black Dave. Sue's place." He says, "Sure," and does it. The hill's a-loving-blaze, but there are a bunch of outlying houses, hovels, and cottages that aren't. This thing is likely to spread. Right about now, everyone's starting to think of all the cool poo poo they've built and collected that's going up in smoke right now. I aim to keep them busy and put off the grief. "Rest of you, spread out. In case anyone in the community's slept in, or hasn't looked loving up, warn them. If they've got more useful stuff than they can carry, help them clear it out. No second trips." I don't mention 'and give it back to them later.' We've just lost a huge cache of our poo poo, we'll sort that out on a case-by-case basis. "Do not go down-wind of it. If you're breathing smoke, back the gently caress off. Move as many people and as much poo poo as you can either across the river, or to the beach." Fire's probably not going to cross the river. They don't do that, right? Everyone can cross at the actual mill. Chloe says, "Hey, the radio guy's here." I say, "So loving what?" She looks a little pissed. "He's got a cam-corder and poo poo. Looks like a microphone. Maybe he saw something?" I look where she's pointing, and hey, there's Sethro. He's a weird one. I try to stay on his good side, since he knows how to fix stuff, and that's the kind of favor that comes up weekly when you've got twenty-something bikes. And the radio's good for the community, when it isn't just pointless numbers. Nobody knows what's up with the numbers. Sure enough, he's got a hand-held video a camera thingy and an extra mic, with wires feeding into that big backpack. Probably got his stuff plugged in to a car battery back there. I call out to him, "Hey! Radio guy! You know what's going on here?" Graham says, "Big dang fire." I turn on him, "No poo poo there's a fire," And then back to Sethro, "poo poo. I don't know, you see anyone running from here?" Graham glances over his shoulder, "Dang ol', lot of people runnin'. We should be." I glare, and say, "Like, suspiciously. poo poo. Sethro, you doin' the reporter thing, do us a solid and find out how the gently caress this got started, alright? We got some poo poo to clear out." StringOfLetters fucked around with this message at 02:55 on Apr 13, 2014 |
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Apr 12, 2014 22:08
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Foo, as long as its ok with you and since it requires hard for either roll, I just changed seize by force to going aggro
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Apr 12, 2014 22:17
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Sure thing. Update tomorrow.
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Apr 13, 2014 01:59
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Sethro Sethro doesn't really slow when he comes across Dick's gang, a big fire like this is naturally going to cause a bit of a ruckus. He ambles over to Dick after being spotted and happening to overhear his name being mentioned. Got to get the lowdown on this whole fire thing. "So you're telling me you don't know what happened? I don't know dog, if you're the big chief around here you should probably know something am I right?" He pans over to Chloe who refuses to comment, which conveniently isn't a denial. The camera takes in a shot of the bikes grumbling up the hill from their current location as it pans to face the man holding it. Sethro gets in real close and tucks the microphone on his headset to the side to speak into the one haphazardly taped to the camera itself. "We can't really know anything at all, not now. Not even sure if we could have before." With that quick aside he pans back to Dick. "Well we can be relatively sure that Dick and his boys didn't do it, as it appears..." a quick pan and zoom up to the more roaring areas of the inferno, "...that his own materiel would be on fire back there. At least I think so if you look at the smoke just right. But we gotta be investigative, you dig me people?" He addresses this to both his intended camera audience but with a sweeping arm motion includes the few gang members who happen to be pussy footing around attempting to look busy as the others bravely head in to follow the boss's orders. "Alright dogs, glad to see I got a bit of a crew to roll in with me. Gonna go in and check this out personally." He shuts the viewfinder on the camera and hustles up alongside the last of the men heading up to the hill for some serious investigative journalism.
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Apr 13, 2014 07:07
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Toyman The Toyman bursts into giggles. "Ah, we play different games, you and I! You and they play tag while the Toyman stands on his hill calling all-ye-all-ye-out's-in-free! Still, we neither of us want to play cops-and-robbers with the other, so the Toyman will play tag today. But as you play your games with the Toyman's toys, come by and play his games with your own toys sometime. Find some flowers for a dearest, perhaps." He gestures to The King, a garland of colorful synthetic flowers (Each bloom emblazoned with a faded gold "Aloha") looped like a laurel across his locks. "Still, still, then is there, now is here. A penny for a spool of thread, a penny for a needle. That pretty is worth... three? Yes, three pistols for us, and those," he points to Big Sven's sunglasses, "Hmm, those..." Acquisitive Eye, +weird: 2d6+2 7 How can I make those sweet shades mine? And what are they truly worth? XP: (x)()()()(>)
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Apr 13, 2014 07:32
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"I don't have a loving clue who Jetsam Jack is," Puck spits, "and you look just like a rich man who's about to get a lot poorer." She uncorks a fist at you, Ebbs, and you get your hands up, fire back a punch of your own. But then she responds with another, and another. Puck doesn't command the respect of her gang for nothing, does she? The brawl goes back and forth, fairly even. But then there's footsteps. Remember, Puck's a gang leader, and where there's a leader, there's a gang. Toyman, shades are shades, except when they aren't. These shades, they were a status symbol once. Perhaps they can be again, if the right sale is made and the right person owns them. Flip side, right now they're worth whatever you can buy them for. "Glad you're coming around, man. But I need five minimum for that." Big Sven, he's good. He sees your eyes change focus, and he figures you're not looking to admire your own reflection in his glasses. "Ah, you want these," he says, touching them. >>>PERCEPTIVE<<< "Well that'd be those two semi-automatic rifles I need, right?" So there's there's the deal, five handguns and two rifles for an Aloha'd scarf and sunglasses that could make a king or a scrap heap. Whether or not your pack accepts your order to follow Sethro's lead or they want to save their own poo poo, Dick, your guys head in. Noodles and Boots fail to escape Sethro's eye and fall in line. Sethro, as your take your role at the head of Dick's advance party, what do you find? Dick, Chloe asks "are you really trusting that weirdo?" Graham points his gun and sweats. From the inferno and probably the nerves. It's clear he's not really on board with sticking around much. How long's he been around, Dick? Sansa Merci, the Market is bustling, but one deal gone bad stands out in particular. A man and a woman, boxing and grappling. Or honestly, it's not that precise, they're scrapping. It's getting nasty, and a circle is forming in the dirt road that makes the main street of the Market. The Market is an interesting annex to the Wrecks and Wracks. It's yours but not. Adjacent to your territory, but it isn't yours. You've gotten your cut established, as the dominant power in the area, but that's the rub. In the area. Not right here, not right now, and you can tell. There's half a dozen people moving through the crowds, definitely organized. And it's they who hold the cards right now, not you.
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Apr 14, 2014 01:33
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| # ? Apr 24, 2024 14:41 |
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Sansa Merci Sansa lights the ciggie dangling from her lips. The fire helps give people the right impression. "Gregs. Keep back, but be ready to go on my holler, got me? I'm gonna kick this here bitch and see who yelps." She strides into the fighting circle, and casually tosses one of her knives so it hits right between the two combatants. Another one's already in her hand, in case of trouble. "Alright, what the gently caress's goin' on in this here scrap? Y'all should know better. I get itchy when people start drawin' blood in my place of business." She looks around at the frozen onlookers. "Who ain't me, anyway." The knife dances a little dance, twirling idly as Sansa stares down the two fighters, the threat of it dancin' right into someone's throat implicit in the air. "Care to calm down now and talk this out like civilized folk?" Go Aggro: 2d6+2 8
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Apr 14, 2014 01:42
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