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Juck In the wake of a good bloom, you'll pretty reliably get some holdouts from the city packing up and heading out for greener pastures. And before they do that, they invariably stop in at the watering hole before moving on. In other words, easy pickings. Juck's here with a couple of the friendlier looking members of her pack, ostensibly selling pre-loved survival gear and maps to help folks find their way out to the same zone. It's an old trick, of course, but desperation has a funny way of turning folks gullible. So yeah, Juck's struck up a few conversations with traveler types so far today, but nothing she'd go so far as to call a proper bite just yet.
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Apr 27, 2014 23:18
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JuckStringOfLetters posted:
Juck inspected the spark plug in her hand, carefully. Clean, clearly not an engine pull. "Now see, here, this is something you don't see every day, wouldn't you say, Partridge? Look at those shiny contacts -- why, I daresay this plug's looking nicer even than the day it was made." Partridge nodded, playing along enthusiastically. "A real beauty that one is, Juck, quite the catch. Real shiny like!" Dick-Cheese (where the gently caress do these idiots pick up these ridiculous names, Juck thought to herself) was practically bouncing with enthusiasm and nodding agreeably. "Yessir, those tweren't easy to come by, no, but I saw'd them there looking all shiny and I thought to myself, why, Dick-Cheese, seems yonder shiny plugs what goes in engines might have some value out there to enterprising folks lookin to make fair trade and I says to myself, why yes, Dick-Cheese, quite valuable indee--" Juck cut the idiot off by dropping the plug back onto the mat of parts. "'Course, nobody's had no need for plugs ever since the gasoline all ran stale and everybody went to diesel. You might be able to make yourself a pretty little necklace out of these things, maybe, but that's about all they're good for." Dick-Cheese's face crumpled like a plastic bag. Juck chuckled inwardly -- hook, line, and loving sinker. "And the rest of this crap -- well, this poo poo's just going to weigh you down, make you an easier target for bandits. I mean, I know some folks as might be interested in melting it down for scrap, but if anything I'd be doing you a favor by taking this off your hands, know what I'm saying?" Dick-Cheese's ego had gone on a bit of a roller coaster over the last couple minutes, but he wasn't completely convinced just yet, and was making some stammering noises of protest. And at that moment, Juck caught sight of something she didn't like out the corner of her eye. She trailed off, staring. Partridge saw Juck's attention shift, and picked up the slack in the con. "Now see, we like to help out travelers, help them make it out through the dangerous parts round here. All this scrap here's no good for you -- what you need is a map, and some good supplies, like what I've got here..." Juck's eyes narrowed as she scoped the situation. Mike was talking with some woman and that schoolgirl that came round the other day, which wasn't great (running diesel engines in a motorcycle frame was a dicey proposition, and Mike was the best wrench around; Juck needed him on her side), but on top of that Taco was circling them, hungry-like. Dog Head loped over, lazily, poking at Juck. "Hey Juck, you're not going all moony for that schoolgirl, are you? poo poo, boss, if I'da known you'd go so fuckin gooey for a uniform I'da done my little hot-cop routine for you way back whe--" Juck placed a finger on Dog Head's mouth, firmly, and passed Jeanette her machete. "Jeanette, Dog Head is going to be quiet now, like a good boy, and if he fails to be a good boy I want you to take him outside the ranch gates and pry his kneecaps off for me, okay?" Jeanette nodded, and Dog Head stiffened up. Jeanette was not to be hosed with, and there was not a lot of love lost between the two. Partridge ambled over with a bag of loot, as Dick-Cheese and his band of merry dipshits ran off excitedly carrying a map that would lead them straight into Dez's ambush. Partridge wasn't a dumbass like Dog Head. "Taco. Bad news right there." Juck nodded. Taco going after Mike could be a prelude to his gang moving in on Juck's -- Lala was a decent mechanic, but without Mike Juck's bikes would be dead in the water within a month or two. "Come on. We're going to nip this poo poo in the bud. Dog Head, go make sure no-one's loving with the bikes. Taco's got a big crowd, no telling how many of them are skulking around here."
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Apr 29, 2014 18:33
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JuckStringOfLetters posted:
Juck was closing on Taco and his quote-unquote brother, visualizing a tidy little sequence of violence: king hit to the back the head to drop him (boot to the back of the left knee if he needed convincing), then drop a knee just above the shoulders for a nice little chat. She trusted Partridge to follow her lead, and Taco's ganger friend didn't look like he'd pose much of a problem. Juck's blood felt hot behind her cheeks. Fights were always exciting, and Juck had been looking for a half decent excuse to put Taco's teeth out for a little while now. But then Partridge's huge hand closed around her shoulder, pulling her back on her heel. "Hold up, boss. You might want to take a look at who our Smegma friend is talking to just now." Karen loving Blackwolf. Of all the pains in Juck's rear end, and there were more than a loving few, Blackwolf probably took the drat cake. The Dog Soldiers, in general, were fine -- gently caress with them at your peril, but they didn't go out looking for trouble and they respected boundaries. Juck's crew had no quarrel with them. But Karen Blackwolf was another story -- she definitely didn't need much more than a paper-thin excuse to get bloody with Juck, no question there. And if Juck were to indulge in a rare honest moment, she'd probably have to concede that Karen had some legitimate grievances. Diesel choppers were a giant pain in the rear end to keep running, and they were pretty much all raggedy custom jobs hacked together from a completely incongruous set of parts. Karen's chopper, on the other hand, was a loving sweet machine. And Juck wanted it, real bad. So Juck had come up with a pretty simple plan -- her gang was going to wait until Karen went out on one of her hunts, and then they were going to ride over to her shack and kidnap her girlfriend, a cute young little thing named Newport. The plan had been pretty simple -- take the girl, leave a note, exchange girl for bike, and done. It mostly went as planned, up to the point where Newport pulled a knife on Juck's pack member Stengel and put it hilt deep into his left eye socket (R.I.P. Stengel). That got Biggs all riled up, and before Juck could institute a bit of clear headedness, Biggs had already blown a five inch hole clean through Newport's abdomen. So that was the whole hostage thing pretty much hosed right there. Juck had been pissed at Biggs, naturally, and left him to take out Karen Blackwolf when she came back and return to camp riding Blackwolf's chopper, or not come back at all. Biggs had not come back. And word trickled back pretty quickly that Karen knew that Biggs ran in Juck's gang, and that Karen held Juck personally responsible for Newport's death. While Juck personally felt that there was room for interpretive argument on that case, she knew enough about Blackwolf to know that that was not going to be a fruitful avenue for discussion. So, in short, the fact that Blackwolf was smiling was bad news. Dez and his crew were expecting a bunch of moony city-fleers, not Karen Motherfucking Blackwolf. "poo poo." Juck's voice had gone very cold, with almost a hint of uncertainty. "We gotta go back up Dez. If Blackwolf comes after them, that psycho will rip them to shreds." Taco got a free pass today, the lucky poo poo. Juck, Partridge and Jeanette turned heel to get back to their bikes, where they sincerely loving hoped that Dog Head would be waiting. Meanwhile, Juck racked her brain, trying to remember if anybody she'd seen today was one of Blackwolf's friends; Karen was usually the lone wolf type, but she probably wasn't going to be dumb enough to step to Juck's entire gang solo. (Rolling sharp to read a charged situation) Sharp (+0): 2d6 5 craaaaaaaaaap.
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May 2, 2014 03:29
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Juck Looking over the damage to her bikes, Juck seethed quietly trying and failing to unclench her jaw. Tires were a bitch to come by, and with the size of the gashes Blackwolf had put in them, there was no way these were repairable. But there was no way they were going to make it to Dez's ambush on time if they went by foot -- they were going to need wheels. Juck scanned the lot, and was instantly drawn to a gleaming baby blue pickup truck. "Jeanette, I need you to stay here with the bikes and Dog Head. Don't give much of a poo poo about Dog Head, but we need to make sure no-one fucks with the bikes until we can get 'em repaired." Jeanette nodded, and looked like she might be looking forward to taking off Dog Head's other ear when he woke up for letting those Dog Soldier fucks tear up her wheels. Juck straddled Partridge's bike and gunned the engine. "Partridge, you're with me." Juck and Partridge tore rear end across the lot coming to a sliding stop in front of Big Mike's tow truck, kicking up a huge cloud of fine gray dust. Juck gunned the engine one final time for show before killing it. Juck stepped off the bike and drew her shotgun, putting it directly in Taco's face. "Taco, take a hike. Mike, you gotta be more careful -- helping out dipshits like this is a good way to get yourself robbed and killed. That there's a little bit of advice, on the house, from someone who would know. Thing is, Mike, I'm having some bike troubles and I'm in a real hurry right now. Kind of a life or death deal. I'm going to owe you a favor, a real one, but me and my buddy here need a ride, and we need to go now." Looking back over her gun barrel, Juck was a little shocked to see that Taco was still standing there. "Taco, what'd I fuckin tell you? Find some other sucker to fleece. Or are you going to make me waste a perfectly good shell on your dumb rear end?" [Going aggro on Taco] Hard (+2): 2d6+2 11
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May 3, 2014 02:01
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Juck As Mike threw back the tarp in the back of his truck, revealing the mint tires underneath, Juck was momentarily rendered uncharacteristically speechless. Partridge let out a quiet whistle and shook his head. Even Taco momentarily forgot about the two shotgun barrels practically stuffed up his nostrils as he admired the spotless rubber of the tires -- they even had that new rubber kind of smell to them. Juck quietly arrived at the conclusion that Big Mike was obviously a sorcerer. But sorcerer or no, there was no way Big Mike was going to be able to field change six tires on motorcycle rims in "a couple minutes". Mike was fast, fastest mechanic Juck'd ever seen, but there was no way Mike's plan was going to work. Even if they left right now, they'd be hard pressed to catch up to Karen before she got the drop on Dez and his crew. This whole neighborly thing was adorable, but Juck needed Mike's wheels and Taco was in the way. Partridge, reading Juck's mind, put his fingers in his ears. "You know what, Mike? I'mma do you that favor right now." Juck squeezed both triggers, and with a deafening roar Taco's skull exploded in pink and red fireworks. As Juck's hearing came back, everything in the lot was quiet, aside from the pattering sound of skull fragments landing on sheet metal. Mike was just staring, wide-eyed. "I dunno what he told you, but I guarantee you that fucker does not have a dying grandma, or an injured brother trapped under rubble, or a poor family of refugees with a sick child that just need medicine. He wanted to rob you, Mike, and he'd'a prolly left your bullet riddled corpse in a ditch somewhere. You're welcome." Juck paused to slowly pull a cigarette out of a pack in her pocket, watching Mike, Angel Eyes and whatserface, College Girl, while she lit the smoke and took a long drag off it. "Now, like I said, I got a problem with a short fuse on it. Karen Blackwolf, on the basis of a minor misunderstanding, has launched a singleminded vendetta on me and my crew. Now, I normally don't go for the kind of psycho-removal public service thing, but it looks like Karen and me are headed for a showdown, and I need to get moving now before she murders my friends. Mike, I'm asking you nicely: will you please just drive me and Partridge where we need to go?" Mike didn't look like he was going to be particularly quick with an answer, and Juck turned to College and Angel Eyes. College had this sour look on her face, but Juck couldn't exactly remember what it was she'd been so pissed about. "Hey Angel -- didn't you and Blackwolf get into some poo poo a little while back? How'd you like to help take that roided-out maniac out of circulation for good?" Juck rolled Taco's headless corpse over with her motorcycle boot. "Looks to me like your afternoon schedule just opened up a little, no?"
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May 4, 2014 01:09
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=0/5 | Harm=0:00 | Fatigue=0:00 Juck had not batted an eyelid while the college girl had screamed at her, waving her gun in Juck's face. If there was one thing Juck had learned about conflict resolution, it was to never break face. Now, looking down at the disarmed girl sprawled in the dust, Juck cracked her shotgun, emptied the two spent shells, and loaded in two fresh shells from her pocket, pushing each one in with a solid klunk and closing the breech. Silhouetted against a grey sun, Juck pointed the gun at College's face, holding for a beat before returning the gun to its holster. "Strike two, college girl." Juck flicked her half-finished and still lit cigarette into the girl's hair before turning back to the truck. The alarms were blaring hard: time to go. Juck turned to Partridge. "Blackwolf's probably got a pretty good idea of where to expect trouble on our map, but she's too smart to assume anything; if we take the old road along the railway north and double back to Dez's spot, we might just make it in time to warn Dez and crew that she's coming. Partridge, you get back to camp on your bike, round up Lala and anybody else you can get, come through the ambush chokehold from the south, the same way Blackwolf will be coming. Any luck, we pinch her in the middle and shred that bitch." Partridge nods once, hops on his bike and tears off out the lot, northeast towards the camp. Juck jumped on the back of Mike's truck, and got a better look at the incoming shrooms. gently caress there were a lot of them. Juck whistled back to Jeanette, getting her attention: "Leave the bikes, we'll come back for them if there's anything left of this shithole tonight. Bring Dog Head, we're bugging out!" Jeanette hoisted the still-unconscious Dog Head over her shoulder easily and carried him over, dumping him unceremoniously into the bed of Mike's truck. Dog Head still seemed to be leaking a lot of blood from his torn ear. Juck shouted over at the college girl, "Hey College! Get over here and patch my man up, and maybe -- maybe -- I'll let you live, at least for today."
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May 4, 2014 19:00
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=0/5 | Harm=0:00 | Fatigue=0:00 Un-loving-believable. "Hey! College! Not that one, moron, the one in the back of the truck! College!" The college girl wasn't listening. "College! I already shot that fucker once, and I'm not in a mood to waste two perfectly good bullets today!" The college girl was still not listening, and was laying hands on the gutshot Jeff and going full faith-healer. In the side view mirror of Mike's truck, Juck could see the shrooms arriving at the fence. There wasn't a ton of time here. And now the college girl was going into some kind of trance. Juck squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Morons. I'm surrounded by loving morons."
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May 5, 2014 04:34
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=2/5 | Harm=0:00 | Fatigue=0:00 As the truck accelerated out of the lot, Juck reflected on the situation as she understood it. Juck had never been accused of being the sharpest spoon in the drawer, but it had been pretty clear that Karen Blackwolf had been trying to goad Juck into some kind of one-on-one trial by combat, the kind of thing that all those Dog Soldier types seemed to have a collective boner for. Karen had obviously had very little trouble incapacitating Dog Head (Juck was going to have to have a word with Dog Head about that one), and the whole "slash the tires on all bikes but one" was a pretty clear message. Thing is, Juck didn't get to where she was by attacking all of her problems directly: she was a staunch believer in the importance of task delegation. One on one, in a quote-unquote fair fight, Blackwolf could kick Juck's rear end, no question. But that's why fair fights were for morons. Getting a ride from Mike was another calculated move; Mike was useful and well-liked, and Karen and whoever she was working with would be unlikely to attack his truck directly. Juck wasn't really sure why "human shield" had such negative connotations attached to it; they sure were useful. And then the truck came to a stop. Jeanette and Juck shared an alarmed glance at one another; if the truck had broken down, this was going to be bad news. But the engine sounded fine, and after a beat Juck realized that Mike had stopped the truck on purpose. Juck rapped on the roof of the truck cab with the butt of her shotgun. "Mike? What are you doing? Mike?" The crusty old fart wasn't listening, and stragglers from the ranch were clambering into the truck with shrooms hot on their heels. This was stupid. They were all going to loving die, ripped apart by goddamn shrooms, all because of some senile old bastard's hero complex. Juck grabbed one of the terrified runners and hauled her by the back of her jacket over the rail of the truck. Juck pounded on the rear window of the truck. "We're full up back here, Mike! Punch it!" That probably wasn't strictly speaking true, but time was of the essence here on any number of fronts, and Juck had zero interest in running some boneheaded rescue operation for bunch of moony ranchhands without the sense to stay behind the loving fences where they belonged. Juck and Jeanette both had their weapons drawn and trained on the advancing shrooms, but neither of them were going to shoot until there were actually shrooms in the truck -- there was no point in attracting more of the fungal bastards, and they certainly weren't going to endanger themselves unnecessarily for the sake of some refugees.
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May 7, 2014 18:02
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=2/5 | Harm=0:00 | Fatigue=0:00 As the rocket exploded behind the wildly veering truck, Juck barely managed to maintain her grip on a tattered rope tied to an anchor point in the truck bed; the force of the explosion threw her against the metal truck cab hard. But Juck had to hand it to Mike -- the old bastard could drive. Karen dropped the empty rocket launcher and was fumbling for a weapon. Juck was well aware that she only had a few moments to capitalize on Blackwolf's wrong-footedness. Juck slammed on the back window of the cab, and yelled "PUNCH IT, MIKE!". As the truck accelerated, Juck placed the blade of her machete between her teeth and began to try and crawl over the roof of the cab and onto the hood of the truck. Acting under fire (+Hard): 2d6+2 9 [Juck's really smart plan here is to crawl onto the hood of the truck, and then at the right moment, jump off the moving truck and attack Karen Blackwolf with a machete, because awesome]
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May 10, 2014 08:44
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=2/5 | Harm=0:00 | Fatigue=0:00 Crawling over the roof of the truck cab, Juck felt something snag on a corner and clatter back into the truck bed -- her shotgun had been pulled out of its holster. No time to get back for it. Juck barely had time to get into a crouch on the hood of the truck when Mike slammed on the brakes, launching Juck into the air on a direct collision path with Karen, machete gripped with both hands. Seizing with awesome force: 2d6+3 5 [In retrospect, this may have not been a great idea.]
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May 10, 2014 18:07
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=3/5 | Harm=0:00 | Fatigue=0:00 StringOfLetters posted:Juck, you're kind of a crazy person, ain't ya? As Juck sailed through the air, time seemed to slow down, and she reflected on all the times she'd heard that question (or some variant thereof, often laced with more profanity). Occasionally her gambles paid off -- like, if this had actually worked out, and Juck had managed to decapitate Karen Blackwolf while diving from a moving truck with a machete, maybe she would have had a story to point to, an example of when Juck's so called "crazy person" routine paid off big. But as it became increasingly clear that not only was Juck not going to be decapitating Karen Blackwolf with balletic grace, but instead was going to head-butt the very solid looking fuel tank of her motorcycle, Juck had to somewhat wistfully admit that perhaps there was a kernel of truth to the various statements of her detractors. Taking a beating: 2d6 8 Juck's face collided with Karen's motorcycle, hard, and there was a huge visual flash and her ears were suddenly full of bees. And when her vision came back, fading in from unbearable brightness, the first thing she saw from her position -- face down in the dirt, mouth full of some viscous fluid, maybe saliva, maybe blood, who knows -- was Karen Blackwolf lifting her bike off of herself with hulk-like strength and pulling a huge knife out of her boot. Juck briefly wondered where the cutoff was with bladed things, like, when do you start calling something a sword, but ultimately it probably didn't matter, it was either a really big knife or an adorable miniature sword, either way, Juck had exactly zero doubt that Karen Blackwolf would have any problem field dressing Juck for taxidermy with that thing. Karen was yelling something, it was hard to hear her over all the bees, but there were a number of contextual cues that Juck was able to pick up on and from these infer that Karen seemed to be upset about something. Juck reached for her shotgun, but it wasn't there; she seemed to remember holding a machete some time earlier, was she still holding it? Hard to tell, honestly. OK, pull yourself together, bitch. Let's at least not make this easy. Juck pulled herself up into an all-fours position facing Juck and yep, her face was definitely leaking some kind of thick fluid onto the dirt. The bees had died down, but weren't gone completely, and were starting to sound maybe like motorcycle engines? Where was her gang, anyway? This seemed like it was exactly the kind of scenario in which Juck would like to have about a dozen hard bastards with motorcycles in between herself and this roided out maniac. Maybe they were nearby. Maybe if Juck could just survive long enough for the rescue operation to get here? Looking at the steadily advancing Blackwolf, Juck felt like the probabilities she was dealing with were somewhere in the general area of a coin toss. Juck tried to read the situation, hoping to find something she could use, something to buy a couple seconds of time... Reading a sitch: 2d6 3 or not.
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May 11, 2014 05:03
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=4/5 | Harm=Dazed,Stabbed | Fatigue=0:00 Something that could kill me.: 2d6+1 5 hoo boy. In between visits to the dirt with her face, Juck makes one more attempt to reach for the gun, but Karen's still got her weight on the knife, and the bitch grabs the handle and twists it, hard. There's a wet crunching sound as as at least one of her forearm bones splinters, and the feeling in that arm goes dead. Which is just as well, because it's starting to spurt blood like a burst main. Juck gives up on the gun, but she's still got a sort of grip on the machete in her good hand, and Karen's so into making a dog's dinner out of Juck's left arm that there's an opening. It's an awkward thrust, and Juck figures she's probably only got the one shot at this before she passes out. Seizing by force: 2d6+2 9 Taking definite hold to get Karen off my back, and suffering little harm in the process. The curve of the thrust is wonky, but it could've been worse given the circumstances. The blade gets in somewhere in Karen's abdominal region, and she roars like a speared bear, rolling off of Juck's back and letting go of the knife in Juck's arm. She's breathing heavily, and spies the gun on the ground next to Juck, who is making one last grab for the gun with her good arm, which is made a little difficult by the fact that her left arm is currently impaled. Things were not looking good, but that was when the cavalry finally arrived. In a cacophanous roar, like smoke belching steel valkyries, Partridge comes barrelling through the scene at the head of a group of at least ten or so bikers from Juck's gang; Juck thinks she saw Lala in there, maybe Double Hole and Grillcheese too, hard to say with all the smoke and dust. Karen's up and yelling at them, not that you can hear her or anything, and as Juck's vision starts go all blurry, she hears the comforting sound of a lot of guns, guns that sound like they were getting farther and farther away, going off at the same time. Juck clamps her good hand down on her bleeding arm and rests her forehead in the dust, trying to stay conscious, trying to stay focused on the three or four rocks she can see in front of her nose.
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May 11, 2014 06:10
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=0/5 | Harm=Dazed,Stabbed | Fatigue=0:00 Juck tries to push herself up from the dirt with her good arm, but the world starts spinning out from under her and she feels her guts heave. The pain from her arm starts rolling in viscous black waves, like her arm is being slowly run over by a truck. She collapses back down to the cold dirt. "Dez, get over here!" Partridge is pulling back Juck's fingers, trying to get a look at her arm, and a fresh gush of blood spills out over her knuckles. Dez runs over with his med kit, and Partridge chooses to ignore the skeptical look on Dez's face. Dez gets to work, sticking Juck with a hypo needle. Beautiful numbness washes through her body, and the world goes fuzzy and dark. "The arm's cactus, Partridge. Gonna need a tourniquet if she's not going to die of blood loss." Dez was already pulling off his belt. "We're not taking her arm. Get her stabilized, we're going to get back to the K and find someone who can patch her up." "Partridge, man, I'm not sure that's a good idea -- I mean, if we don't put a tourney on there now, she could well die of blood loss before getting to the ranch." "What do you think Juck'd say? And for that matter, what exactly did you have in mind for explaining to Juck why she was short one arm when she woke up? We're taking her to the ranch. She's either waking up with both arms or she's dead, we're not taking any in-between options here." Grillcheese had wandered over, and he had his calculating face on. "Didn't you say K-ranch just got hit by shrooms, Partridge? And you want to go back there?" Partridge said nothing. Double Hole joined in: "What's your angle here, Partridge? This isn't our way. You know what Juck hersself'd say here -- this is a warrior's death, clean. No sense in risking more blood for a lost cause." Partridge stood up, flipping the catch on his gun holster meaningfully. "We're not doing it that way this time." Grillcheese locks eyes with Partridge for a beat, then looks aside and spits. Dez finishes wrapping Juck's arm. "That's the best I can do, here, but if that arm doesn't get looked at soon it's going to be a problem." "Well then let's stop loving around here and get moving. Dez, help me get Juck on the back of my bike." Partridge was trying hard to keep his voice even, but there was a clear note of worry there. A few meters away, Barndoor was standing next to Blackwolf's gleaming chopper where it lay in the dust. "Partridge, what are we doing with this?" "The gently caress you think, Barndoor? It's coming with us. It can be Juck's Congratulations on Not Dying present." "And this piece of poo poo?" Lala shoved the captured Dog Soldier down onto the ground, itching for an excuse to end the fucker. "Keep him alive for now. Call it collateral." Partridge addressed the Dog Soldier directly: "You don't look stupid -- you know what'll happen if you gently caress with us, right?" The man nodded, carefully. "Good. You're going to ride with us, and you are going to stay very, very frosty. Understand?" The man nodded again. Partridge beamed, pleased. "Excellent. Saddle up!" With a huge roar, Juck's gang speeds away towards the K-ranch. Less than a kilometer down the road, they come across a baby blue truck on the road, looking a little perforated but definitely well cared for. Partridge rides up ahead and up to the driver's side window. "Funny running into you again, old timer."
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May 13, 2014 22:19
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Juck Barter=1 | Exp=0/5 | Harm=Dazed,Stabbed | Fatigue=0:00 'Big' Mike posted:
"That's..." Partridge had a sneer in his voice, but just as he was about to say something mean he actually took the time to think about what Mike had suggested. "That's actually not a terrible idea." Partridge looked over what was left of Juck's gang. They'd been ready for a fight with the Dog Soldiers, and once they got the scent for blood they had a tendency to get wild. Partridge knew in the back of his head that the longer they waited around, the sooner they'd start fighting each other. What would Juck do? Partridge thought about the ranch, and everything that those folks had left behind. The Dog Soldiers were running. The sentries at the Ranch would have their hands full with the shrooms. What would Juck do? Partridge took a flattened beer top out of his pocket and flicked it up into the air. Heads we take the ranch, tails we book it for the college. Flipping a coin: 1d2 1 "We're going with the old man's plan. Who wants to burn some motherfucking zombies?" The gang cheered as one. "Grillcheese, tell me you brought the grenades this time." "When have I ever not, Partridge? Jeez." "Alright, gently caress it. Let's do this. Get Juck loaded in the truck with Jeanette and Dog Head. Dez, is she good and out?" Dez patted his med bag. "I gave her the good poo poo. She'll be out for another twelve hours at least." "... i'm 'wake ..." said Juck, in a dreamy voice. "You suck at this doctor poo poo, Dez." said Partridge. "gently caress me, man, that was literally my best stuff -- hang on, lemme get another one..." Dez was rummaging in his bag. "... stick me with one of those ..." Juck's chest heaved and her cheeks filled, and she paused a bit while she swallowed again, "... and I'll fuckin' eat your arms off..." Juck's head tipped over. Dez and Partridge shared a knowing glance, and Dez put his bag away. "...help me in this <hic> truck." Jeanette reached out and hauled up Juck into the truck bed. "...hey... my gun. ...i was wondering where you'd <hic> got to..." Partridge shook his head and addressed the gang. "Alright, let's go take the loving Ranch back! We're going to play it like Mike said -- two groups, lots of covering fire. If you're not shooting, you're throwing a Molotov. Make sure we've got walls of fire keeping the shroomers divided. Stay on the bikes, run them down if you have to. Anybody got a problem with that?" Back in the truck, Juck druggily checked her shotgun and made sure it was loaded. "... well yeah, 'course you gotta burn the orange one first... <hic> otherwise you <hic> get wolves ..." Jeanette and Dog Head both raised an eyebrow in unison. "Who you talking to Juck?" Juck gets weird on drugs: 2d6-1 7 good question...
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May 17, 2014 05:42
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Juck Barter=1 | Exp=0/5 | Harm=Dazed,Stabbed | Fatigue=0:00 StringOfLetters posted:Juck. Juck is deep in the K-hole, floating above her own body in the back of Mike's truck. She sees the activity all around her, but there are gossamer threadlike structures connecting everyone, extending outwards from the crowd, and these threads move in and out of all the bodies. She can see the zombies in the lot of the ranch, and the threads reach to these bodies too, and Juck understands that these threads are the real body of the giant fungus, that everyone is touched by this thing, controlled to some extent by it. If Juck had ever had a biology class, and if she had actually attended that class, and also paid attention (so, like, zero chance of this), she would have noted some similarities between the threadlike structures she was seeing in her vision and the hyphal structures of fungi, and she might have possibly noted the similarities between how those hyphal structures culminated in human bodies and how fruiting bodies were formed in ascomycete fungi. But instead, Juck merely saw a net, connecting all of them together, and the threads pulled on them like puppet strings. There was no such thing as resistance to the spores. Everyone was infected, everyone was controlled, everyone behaved according to the strange whims of this collective fungal mass. And from Juck's position, floating above it all and separate, it was like she could see tension and slack propagating through the net, she could see the descending commands from the fungus before they reached the StringOfLetters posted:
Partridge rounded the crest of the hill first and immediately hit the brakes. There were a lot more of the shroomers than he'd expected. He held up a fist, signalling everyone to kill their bikes, and the convoy came to a smokey halt. Grillcheese walked over and joined Partridge at the top. "gently caress me, that's a lot of shrooms." This was suicide, plain and simple. Partridge knew the future of the gang, and his future tied up in the gang, depended on getting Juck help, but even if Mike's medic friend was still alive down in there (doubtful), there was no way they were going to take back the ranch without huge losses, assuming that they wouldn't just all get completely shredded. He could see the truck the college folks had taken, broken down in the middle of the lot, surrounded on all sides. The occupants had to be dead, there was no way the shrooms would just ignore them. This was all going loving terribly. And then Mike's friends just sauntered out of the woods, with hardly a scratch on them, and Mike was giving them a big old friendly hello like this poo poo was just normal or something. Partridge pinched his brow. "Well, that's convenient." The medic, Faustina, seemed to know her poo poo, at least a fair sight better than Dez, but it's not like that was saying a whole hell of a lot. Like any good doc, she was going to gouge them on the price, but it's not like they had much choice here. Thing is, they had some good haul from the morning, enough to cover her medical supplies but not the kind of ammo they wanted Spending 1-barter from the morning's robbery haul to cover Faustina's supplies. "How about this, Faustina -- you fix up our folks, and we'll owe you a solid favor. We don't use that fancy ammo you want, but I know some folks with similar tastes; I'm sure if we asked them politely they'd be happy to donate their goods to your cause. Deal?" Offering Chopper violence services at the going rate of 1-barter
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May 18, 2014 19:47
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=0/5 | Harm=Dazed,Stabbed | Fatigue=0:00 In the back of Mike's truck, Juck slowly floated back down into her own body after watching the college girl patch up Jeanette. Damned if it didn't look like the girl knew her stuff, too -- Juck had been all but told in a vision that Jeanette was going to be checking out of this lovely hotel, but who knows? maybe just give it time. Back in her own body, but feeling like it was a shell several sizes too large, Juck groggily watched as the college girl placed her hands on Juck's arm. Wait, Jeanette gets the full patch treatment and I get some bullshit magic massage? The gently caress? But it's lucky that Juck doesn't really feel like she can speak yet, because this would probably have ended up being one of those situations where her mouth got her into trouble. There'd been a couple of those lately. Anyway, so the college girl was doing her hands thing and damned if Juck didn't actually feel like maybe something was starting to happen when Mike spooked and peeled out in his truck, pitching the college girl forward. And that's when poo poo got weird. It was like College's hands pushed through the shell of Juck's body, pushed into this weird K-hole space that Juck was currently inhabiting. Juck felt weirdly invaded almost, like this was some storeroom where Juck kept her secrets and now this girl was in here with her. Juck was losing her grip on reality again, because she was back in that hosed up fleshy fun pit with the fancy chair again, but now there were all these faces in the walls, speaking with Juck's own voice, just straight up talking about all the hosed up poo poo Juck had done. And the loving college girl was here too. Juck freaked out a little, trying to stifle the mouths that spoke as if they were her own. "Two years ago. Collins farm behind on protection money. Killed the kids, burned them. Blamed on band--" Juck slammed a hand down on the mouth that spoke. "Six weeks ago. Let One-tooth Jimmy gently caress me. Sober." Juck punched the teeth out of this mouth -- that was just loving embarrassing. But then Juck saw that College didn't care about the dead kids, or One-Tooth Jimmy; she was crouched by a tiny little whispering mouth in the corner, listening very intently to what it had to say. "Two weeks ago. Shot Quincy in the face, point-blank. On purpose. Did it to destabilize the community at the college, show them they weren't safe, show them how far you get with book learning and a strong sense of community. One day soon I will take that place for my own."
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May 21, 2014 06:07
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=0/5 | Harm=Fixed? | Fatigue=0:00 And then Juck was out of the room and back in the truck bed with the college girl, who had her hands back on Juck's arm and then, this time, holy poo poo. Juck's arm was fixing itself, in, like, real time. The nerves reconnected, and maybe this was just still Dez's drugs in action, but it was like Juck's brain was suddenly aware of the arm again, and there was this flurry of little action potentials that just fuzzed out into white noise, but after that died down Juck felt the college girl's loving brain, connected to her own, through the descending neuronal pathways from Juck's brain and then, somehow, across the gap into the college girl's hands and into the college girl's brain. And the college girl's brain, well, it's a loving weird place. Juck thrashes, almost involuntarily, tearing her arm away from the college girl, Juck's eyes wide, the college girl's eyes glazed and defocused. Juck's brain convulses in her skull, exploding in little electrical zaps, and, weirdly, Jeanette and Dog Head both jerk in the back of the truck bed, grabbing at their heads, and when they meet Juck's gaze they give her this look like Juck just slapped them with her brain, and they look a little scared and distrustful. Mike's truck is passing the turnoff towards Juck's camp and Juck bangs on the cab window. "Thanks for the ride, old man. We'll take it from here." Partridge has been riding at the head of the rest of Juck's gang behind the truck -- because why the gently caress were they going to stick around at the K-ranch once Mike peeled out? and as the truck came to a stop Juck hopped the rear gate of the truck, flexing her arm a couple times. It felt fine, but different, like maybe she broke off part of the college girl's brain inside her arm when she pulled away, but that was loving crazy talk, right? Double Hole was sitting astride Karen's chopper, and Juck walked over and coughed deliberately. Double Hole took the point and got off. "Just keeping the seat warm, boss." Juck rubbed her arm again, threw a leg over her new bike, gave her gang a little grin, and then gave the hand signal to take off. In an obnoxious cacophany, the gang took off for their encampment. It had been a really long loving day.
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May 22, 2014 02:52
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=0/5 | Harm=All Better | Fatigue=0:00 The Wolves hole up in the shell of an old roadhouse bar, on the (now pretty decrepit) main road by the turn-off to Little Town. An old sign by the road, rendered in peeling paint, broken lightbulbs and neon tubes, probably once did a pretty good job of depicting a crowned truck driver (presumably the Road King) welcoming passers-by to The Throne Room.  It's not much to look at these days. It's passed hands between a bunch of different biker gangs, but the Wolves have held it for a solid couple years now, and beat down a couple solid attempts to drive them out. It's mostly the location that's important, being pretty conveniently located with respect to the biodiesel farming community of Little Town. The farmers of Little Town depend on the Wolves for protection from bandits and the like (having a well armed biker gang loitering around the main entry road into town tends to be a sufficient deterrent for most), and in return the Wolves' bikes are kept well fuelled. There's not much more to the deal than that. The roadhouse has a generator that works about every fifth time or so, and is getting worse, so the Wolves mostly just sleep inside the roadhouse, and hang out around barrel fires in the parking lot when they've got down-time. The youngbloods will pretty dependably get into little dominance scraps that they'll work out in the dirt; the older gangers will throw bets down. Lala's usually got her hands full fixing up the bikes in her little garage, and Dez has a little moonshine still that, to its credit, hasn't exploded yet. Jury's still out on whether his hooch causes blindness, but the Wolves are generally prepared to overlook minor side-effects like that. Anyway, so after the whole shitfest with Blackwolf and the K-Ranch, Juck and the Wolves rode into the lot of the Throne Room and killed their engines. The mood was pretty grim all round; Juck kept testing her arm, as though she didn't really believe that it was actually healed, Dez took Jeanette back into the bar and set up a little field medic station to tend to her leg wound, and Partridge was whittling away at some chunk of wood he'd found a ways back by one of the trash fires. And Dog Head, Dog Head had been loving pissy the whole ride back, and he, Double Hole and Grillcheese parked their bikes away from everyone else's, and started up a game of cards. One of the whelps, Plan B, joined them. Juck didn't particularly like this development, but figured they probably just needed a little time to cool off. Casey and Ginger were busy admiring Juck's new bike, all gleaming and tricked out, and were loudly expressing their admiration and comparing the quality of the workmanship on this bike to their own bikes. Lala looked like she might have taken a little offense there, but she just spat and grabbed a jar of hooch from the barrel, muttering something about how maybe if those loving moochers would get her some decent tools, then maybe -- and kind of just trailed off. The next couple days aren't particularly eventful; Jeanette looks to be getting better, and some folks from Little Town drop by with a little food and fuel. Everyone's just kind of holding their breath a little, keeping an eye out for Dog Soldiers; no-one's dumb enough to think that this poo poo with Blackwolf was just going to blow over. And on the third day, Juck woke up to the sound of bike engines in the lot. Throwing her leathers on hastily and charging out of the roadhouse with gun drawn, she found Dog Head and Grillcheese sitting on their bikes, looking for all the loving world like they were planning on riding out. Juck walked down into the dusty lot and stood in front of them. Grillcheese cut his engine immediately. Dog Head rev'd his briefly before cutting his too. "You two are on watch; remind me again what part of being on watch involves spoiling my loving beauty sleep?" Grillcheese looked sheepish, but Dog Head just smiled. "Night watch ended half an hour ago. Me and Grillcheese were going to head over to the Ranch for a bit, take a poke around, see what was going on over there. Back in a couple hours or so." "Oh, I see. And, uh, just so as I'm clear on this, at what point did you two fuckwads decide that you didn't need to check with me beforehand? You don't go loving anywhere without my goddamn say-so, especially not with that loving Blackwolf out there." "Boss, chill out a second, we were just checking the bikes to make sure they were good to go -- we were just about to come in and ask you if, you know, it was okay 'n' stuff." Grillcheese was not a good liar. Dog Head again. "Yeah. What he said. Anyway, it's been days. Blackwolf is running scared, holed up with the rest of her kin with her tail between her legs. Meanwhile, ain't no-one been up the road from the Ranch -- we're thinking, what if the zombies got 'em all? There's some good stuff down at the ranch, and we're just going to stand by while everyone else helps themselves?" Juck didn't like these little power plays at all, but maybe Dog Head had a point. It had been a couple days; if Blackwolf was going to show up at the Throne Room, it would have made more sense for her to do that earlier. And maybe if she let Dog Head do this, show that he could be a good leader, maybe he'd stop with the bitch act for a second. "Okay. You can go. But you're just going to check out the situation, no going in there. If the coast is clear, we all go in and clean the place out." Dog Head and Grillcheese nodded. "And take Cicada with you, he could use the experience." Cicada was one of the whelps, and was singularly incapable of keeping his mouth shut. If Dog Head and Grillcheese were up to something, Juck'd be able to get it out of Cicada later. Cicada looked like he'd just won the lottery and bounded over to his bike, firing it up and coasting over. Dog Head looked less than thrilled about this development. "You've got two hours. Remember, and I cannot stress this enough, recon. And if you see anything, anything that even remotely looks like Blackwolf or one of hers, you loving turn tail and get back here. Yes?" All three riders nodded vigorously and rode off out of the lot and onto the main highway. That was three hours ago. Profane Accessory fucked around with this message at 22:50 on May 25, 2014 |
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May 25, 2014 22:42
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=0/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=0:00 StringOfLetters posted:Juck, your three riders make it back late, but with a fourth. Taye, the lookout from the ranch, rode back with Grillcheese. Grillcheese and Cicada look shaken, Dog Head looks even more pissed than when he left. D.H. pulls up, kills his engine, and announces, "They loving ruined it!" Juck pulls deeply on her cigarette, exhaling a dense cloud of pungent smoke. "This ain't an old folks home, and I ain't running a charity. You want to ride with the Wolves, you gotta prove you're worthy first. And our first order of business ---" Juck shakes the cloudy water bottle "--- is dealing with this poo poo right here. We ain't exactly sitting on top of a stockpile of water here; we don't find another source, we're all going to end up sick from drinking contaminated poo poo." Dog Head's spouting his mouth off about the well twenty feet over; Juck calls to him. "Dog Head -- over here." Dog Head lopes over; he's got a bit of a spring back, now, looks like he manage to blow off a little steam. "You did good, grabbing these tarps -- you were thinking solar stills, right?" Dog Head's face is blank for a beat before a light bulb visibly goes on and he starts nodding enthusiastically. "Smart move. Grab Lala and a few other folks, let's get the stills set up in the lot here, where they'll get some sun. It's not going to be enough, long term, but it'll keep us on the level while we work out what our next move is." Juck turns back to Taye. "You held lookout for the Ranch for a while; there's gotta be other wells around here, right?"
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Jun 3, 2014 01:41
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=0/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=0:00 StringOfLetters posted:
Juck lights a new cigarette off the end of the dwindling one she's been pulling on, and flicks the smouldering butt away into the dirt, where it kicks up a cloud of fine dust and glowing embers. She'd relied on plenty of condensation stills back in the day, but that had been years ago, and a different part of the land; maybe Taye was being paranoid, but she'd also seen what happened to people who drank dirty water, and figured it was probably worth exercising a little discretion for a change, at least in this case. Juck slowly expelled the smoke from her lungs and produced a sharp whistle, getting the attention of her wolves. "Round up. We're holding off on the solar stills for now -- too risky with all the spores around." Barndoor looked disappointed, as he'd already found several good bits of rebar for constructing his still. "Aw, come on, boss, grow a loving pair, will ya? I drink still water all the loving time, and ain't nothing wrong with me." Juck responded with a single cocked eyebrow, and a wave of stifled laughter rippled through the rest of the gang. Barndoor reddened a little, but he generally wasn't the type of wit to be quick with a comeback. Juck held up the bottle of contaminated water from the ranch. "In case you ain't heard, this is what's currently coming out of the well at K-ranch, courtesy of that giant fuckoff crowd of shroomers that hit a few days back. In case it ain't obvious, this is bad loving news, because we've got about enough water for another day, and I'm not particularly looking forward to drinking this nasty poo poo when our clean stuff runs out." Murmured agreement all round. "Might be the well at the K-ranch isn't totally hosed; might be there could be a way to build a filtration system that could work, but I think I can safely say that'd be something a little beyond the most of us. So here's the plan. We gotta find ourselves some clean water in the short term, that much I think should be obvious. We got a couple options here, according to the new guy -- everyone, meet Taye, keep an eye on him, usual deal, if he fucks up put his head out on the front porch with the others -- the city, jungle town, the old AF base, and maybe the Familia has something going on. Meanwhiles, I think it'd be prudent to talk to Mike, maybe get that old greaser thinking about some doubtlessly overcomplicated filtration system we could build for the ranch, and take some of this water up to those science dicks at the campus to see if they can work out exactly what those shroomers did to the well, and whether it's salvageable. Anybody got a problem with that?" Not much response from the crowd, but some general head-nodding here and there -- Juck hadn't really been expecting that anyone was going to be super loving jazzed about any of this. "So here we go. Taye, Double Hole, Plan B -- you're going to go visit the Familia, and you're just going to go in, buy a jingle-bag, maybe ask around if they've got any work, see how they're fixed for water. I also want a head-count, in case we decide to go after them seriously. Ginger, Isaiah, and Scrap, take half of this lovely water up to the campus, make sure they know what's going on with the well and get them to take a look at whatever's floating around in there. Dog Head, Barndoor, Cicada, you're gonna ride down to Jungle Town for a look-see. As far as I'm aware, none of us've been down that way in a while, so keep your head low; easy on the violence, just scope the area to see what's going on. Dez and Barndoor, I want you to stay here with Jeanette, hold down the fort. Casey, Lala, T-loin, you're with me. We're taking the other half of this water to Big Mike, see what he thinks about this poo poo. Anybody got a problem with this, say your piece." Pack Alpha: 2d6+3 8 "Motherfucking Jungle Town? Do you even know how loving far that is?" "I loving hate those campus dipshits." "What, you want to go visit the loving Familia instead? I'll trade your dumb rear end, if you want." Double Hole takes a few steps forward, looking left and right with a cocky swagger. "Seems you're forgetting how the Wolves do things, Juck. The gently caress is with all this talking to shitheads you want us doing? Building a goddamn water filter? What the gently caress are we, a goddamn Rotary Club? We need water, we loving take it! You say the Familia has water? Well let's loving just go over there and slaughter those fuckers -- problem loving solved." Juck's mouth curled into a snarl. "Open your goddamn ears, dipshit, that's why you're loving going to visit the Familia -- we need to know if we can loving take them before we ride over there and get our asses handed to us." "What, you're loving pissing your little panties over the loving Familia? We've kicked their asses a hundred loving times, all we need to do is finish the loving job. Crampon wouldn'ta been into all this mincing-around bullshit." "Yeah, well, in case you hadn't loving got the memo yet, Crampon ain't around no more." "Whatever, bitch, he might be dead but at least he wasn't a loving coward." "Speak up, motherfucker, you just about sounded like you were calling me a loving coward just now." "Maybe I loving did. You're a loving coward. And the Wolves don't need a loving coward for a leader." Double Hole probably had a good thirty kilos on Juck, but her fist flew fast enough that he didn't have time to react; the blow caught him under the chin mid-sentence, and his teeth bit down deep into his tongue, spraying blood down his chin. He instinctively clamped his hands over his mouth, muffling an enraged scream, and Juck took advantage of his wrong-footed stance to snake her foot around behind his ankle before putting her shoulder into his guts, knocking the big man down into the dirt with a solid crunch. Before he could roll out of the way, Juck jumped onto his chest, pinning his arms with her knees and pressing the blade of her machete up against the soft skin over his throat. "Say it again. What the gently caress am I?" "Goddthdam bith, my futhing thongue!" "That'll loving learn you to keep it in your goddamn head next time. Now, don't make me loving repeat myself again. What am I?" "Your the bawth, bawth." "You sure? 'Cause not a moment ago I believe you had a different word you seemed to think was appropriate. Can I assume you've changed your mind, then?" "Yeth bawth." "Good boy, Double Hole. But just in case you forget, here's a little reminder." Juck drew the jagged edge of her machete across Double Hole's cheek, laying it open with an ugly crimson slash. Double Hole howled in pain. "Do. Not. gently caress. With. Me." Juck stood up, wiped off her blade and resheathed it. "Anybody else got a complaint they want to register?" Predictably, no-one said a word, and the only sound was Double Hole's whimpering. "Well then loving saddle up. Regroup here in two hours." Big Mike's Junkyard Juck arrives at the yard with a couple of her gangers in tow and explains the situation at the K-Ranch. She hands you a sample of the contaminated water, and she wants to know whether you can build a filtration system for the pump at the K-Ranch, and, if so, what materials you'd need to be able to put something like that together. Campus Folks Ginger, Isaiah and Scrap similarly show up at the campus. They don't make a big deal about being Wolves, but the bikes and the jackets are kind of a giveaway. They bring the news from the Ranch, and show the sentry at the campus gates the other sample of the contaminated water.
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Jun 8, 2014 20:43
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=1/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=0:00 Juck, Casey, Lala, T-Loin Juck snorts derisively. "If we actually decided to go through with this plan -- and I'm using the word 'plan' here in possibly the loosest of senses -- you can be drat sure I'll be going in with a full gang. Quick and quiet is all well and good as long as nothing goes tits up, but I can't possibly imagine how you'd think we could go into the heart of the City, rip off a goddamn aquarium, and get out without drawing heat. And it has been my personal experience that heat is best dealt with using a pack of evil, violent bastards with guns." Something at the back of Juck's mind is nagging at her as she casts her eyes over the Junkyard. "Say Mike -- all this talk about water has got me awful thirsty; I don't suppose you might have a bit of water squirreled away here, would you, Mike?" Juck rattles her canteen. "Running a little low myself." Dog Head, Barndoor, Cicada Dog Head and Barndoor, riding up ahead of Cicada, slow their bikes to a stop barely a couple miles down the road towards Jungle City, right at a bridge over a dried up, septic creekbed. Cicada rolls up and cuts his engine, confused. "What're we stopping for? We ain't going to make it to Jungle City before dark like this, Dog Head." "Yeah, kid, we ain't going to Jungle City. The boss lady wants water, there are way easier places to get it than Jungle fuckin' City." Barndoor nodded. "Waaaay easier." "Like what?" "Well, Cicada, my none-too-bright boy, if you'd'a been paying attention as you were riding along, you might have noticed a little family of travelers who tried very, very hard to scramble under this very bridge as they heard us coming, hoping to get out of sight before they were spotted -- but they didn't do a very good job, did they, Barndoor?" "Not a good job at all." "Family of travelers? You can come out from under that bridge now -- we're not looking to hurt you, we're just looking to make an honest trade." There was a warble of voices from under the bridge, intermingled with some shushing and scraping sounds. "You're not stuck down there, are you? My associate and I would be more than willing to provide you with assistance if needed!" The hushed conversation under the bridge took on a decidedly resigned tone, and three filthy travelers crawled their way up the embankment to the road. Two younger kids, maybe in their early twenties, and an older guy, late thirties. The old guy threw his backpack down on the ground and put his hands up. "Hey man, we're just trying to get away from the Ranch, we don't want any trouble -- just take what you want. Please. Don't hurt us." "Cicada, why don't you take a look through that bag and see what they're offering us here -- maybe if they're lucky, they've got what we're looking for, hmmm?" Cicada dumped the bag out on the ground. A few pieces from a first aid kit, some old rags of clothing, an assortment of loose ammo, and an ancient, rusty pistol. Dog Head looked disappointed. "Ah, see, that's a shame. Turns out we were looking for water; doesn't seem as though you have much to offer us after all." Dog Head reached back towards his saddlebag and withdrew a makeshift club, fashioned from a wrapped piece of old rusting steel pipe. One of the kids started freaking out. "Water? You want water? We have some! You can have it! We filled up our cans before leaving the Ranch -- they're stashed under the bridge! Just take them, and don't hurt Greg!" The older man, Greg apparently, sighed and lowered his head. Dog Head smiled, and it wasn't a nice smile. Fifteen minutes later, Dog Head, Barndoor and Cicada were on their way back to the Throne Room. Barndoor and Dog Head were both laughing. Cicada's face was pale and his eyes were wide. Strapped to their bikes were a few steel cans sloshing with water. Ginger, Isaiah, Scrap Ginger, Isaiah and Scrap arrive at the Campus without any issues along the way, but there's obviously some poo poo going down on campus. Gunshots ring out from inside the building. Scrap makes to pull his gun, but Ginger puts her hand on his and stops him, shaking her head once. Isaiah pulls them into cover. "Let's see where this goes, shall we? No sense picking sides this early on." Taye, Double Hole, Plan B Taye, Double Hole and Plan B arrive at the encampment of La Familia. Double Hole is still snarling and muttering to himself, and he's had a hard time rigging a bandage for his face to staunch the bleeding from his cheek; he's ended up with something kind of like a bonnet. As they dismount and approach the gates, Taye gently puts his hand on Double Hole's shoulder. "How about you let me handle this one? These guys know me, and besides: you kinda look like poo poo, buddy." Double Hole wrenches his arm out of Taye's grasp angrily and gets up in his face, but Taye keeps a cool demeanor and doesn't back down. Double Hole eventually relents and steps aside, muttering "Whatever. Your funeral, old man." Taye steps around Double Hole and walks up to the gate sentry, holding his arms out wide to indicate that he's no threat. "What's happening, Carlos?" "Not much, man -- you looking to buy?" "You know it! Also hoping to fill some water cans, if you got some to spare; clean water's been hard to find since the Ranch went down. Don't suppose you guys could help us out?" Carlos's eyes narrow a little as he thinks. Assuming that La Familia isn't in the business of free handouts, Taye's plan is to offer the violent services of the Wolves in exchange for clean water.
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Jun 13, 2014 05:13
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=1/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=0:00 Shardix posted:"But hey, you're the big bad wolf out here. Go ahead and make a suicide run with your crew. I'll strip your corpses and tell Blackwolf where to scrape up your body." Juck's expression frosted over instantaneously at the mention of Blackwolf. "Well, if you two silent and deadly ninjas -- " Juck pointedly raised an eyebrow at Big Mike " -- are so obsessed with trying to sneak your way into the Aquarium so that you can load up with some really heavy, really valuable filtration equipment that, oh, sure, probably isn't being guarded or anything, and then tip-toe your way out on a cloud of ghost whispers and fairy dust, then I guess me and my loud gang of mouthbreathers will just have to wish you the best of luck with your various endeavors, and I'm sure I speak for all those who have previously relied on the K-Ranch well for clean water when I do so. Not the way I'd do things, sure, but then what would I know about doing work in cities, after all." Juck was not a subtle hand with the sarcasm ladle. Juck took a step towards Angel Eyes, a hard look in her eyes. "So, what happens now, Angel Eyes? You going to get on the horn with your friend Blackwolf? I'm sure that roid-addled hellbitch would love to know that her old friend Juck was heading back to the Throne Room with just a couple of her wolves -- hell, practically perfect for an ambush, wouldn't you say? Might even be a reward in it for you, I'd imagine -- assuming you're not just on the regular payroll, that is." Casey, Lala and T-loin shift behind Juck, slowly moving their hands towards their weapons.
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Jun 14, 2014 20:25
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=1/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=0:00 Shardix posted:What does Juck wish Angel Eyes would do? This is pretty much just a pack alpha dominance display from Juck -- she can't get away with showing weakness in front of her wolves, so she can't take any poo poo from Angel Eyes without a contest. Juck wants Angel Eyes to back down, publicly, so that it's obvious to Casey, Lala and T-loin that Juck has maintained respect. But Juck also knows that Angel Eyes is a badass, so under the surface she's actually more than a little worried that she's biting off more than she can chew here. It's a bit of a tense situation for Juck.
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Jun 14, 2014 23:13
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=1/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=0:00 "Oh no she fuckin' di'n't!" "You gonna take that, boss?" "Rip her fuckin' lungs out, Juck!" Juck wasn't left with many options here, but at least the blades were off the table, which was a fair loving relief -- Juck wasn't fond of knife fights in any circumstances, and certainly not with Angel Eyes. The fact that Angel Eyes had put her sword down was a kindness, for certain. Juck loosened her gun belt and dropped the shotgun and machete into the dirt, nudging them aside with the toe of a badly weathered steel capped boot. "Fine, bitch, you wanna go? We can go. Just remember you asked for this." Seize by force: 2d6+4 15 Taking definite hold, suffering little harm, and impressing/dismaying opponent Juck snaked left and right before driving in off a left toe with quick jab followed by her nastiest hook, sliding easily (too easily?) around Angel Eyes's blocking fists to connect with her jaw, spinning Angel Eyes around and knocking her to the ground. "God-drat, boss!" "gently caress yeah!" "Finish her!" Juck stepped left and right, ready if Angel Eyes came back up. Juck aimed a quick kick at Angel Eyes's ribs, enough to hurt but not enough to break anything -- Angel Eyes wasn't going to be of any use to her with broken ribs. "Stay the gently caress down, bitch, if you know what's good for you."
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Jun 15, 2014 01:27
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=2/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=3:00 Ginger, Isaiah, Scrap The three wolves, tucked behind a delapidated concrete planter overflowing with tortured weeds, ready their weapons for a fight. Isaiah, keeping low, peers around the side and sees the Familia goons coming towards them, looking back over their shoulders in the direction from which they've come. Isaiah puts a finger to his lips, holding up two fingers with his other hand. Ginger and Scrap nod soundlessly in response. Ginger takes a peek herself, and recognizes Mega as one of the goons -- they still haven't seen the wolves, though, and Ginger knows that if they want to get the drop on them the window's closing pretty quick. She motions Isaiah and Scrap to crawl around the planter on either side, and once they're in position she stands up and walks into plain view. "'allo gentlemen. Fancy running into you lot here -- didn't realize you Familia types were welcome on campus. Had you realized that, Isaiah?" "I had not realized that, Ginger." Isaiah was standing off to the side, a long gun in his hands with a finger over the trigger. Mega and Goon #2 are startled, but they're obviously doing a bit of back of the envelope calculation about their odds if they were to try and shoot their way out. Ginger's eyes narrowed. "Ah buh buh buh buh -- let's try not to get excited here. How about you put those guns down, nice and slowly, and kick them on over towards Scrap over there." Junkyard Shardix posted:"By the way. You seeing anybody right now?" Juck snorts, and offers a gloved hand up to Angel Eyes. "If you go down as easy in other arenas as you do in a fight, I could probably work you into my rotation somewhere." T-loin laughs like this is the funniest poo poo he's ever heard. "I've got my wolves out running a few errands here and there, but we can be ready to roll out by nightfall if needed. Depends on what they find out, though -- if there are other ways to get water than doing a kamikaze run on a bloom town, then maybe we can save our little field trip to the aquarium for a later day. Speaking of water, Mike, how are we doing on that refill of my canteen?"
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Jun 19, 2014 00:08
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=2/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=3:00 StringOfLetters posted:Ginger, Isiah, Scrap, it sounds to me like you just went aggro on their asses. Just because you're listed with the supporting cast doesn't mean you can make a move without a roll. Acting on your own, let's say you'd roll at Juck minus one. So, Ginger smiled at Mega. "Oh, we'll get on with our bidness, buddy. Thing is, and jump in correct me at any time if I've got the wrong way of things here, it seems to me like whatever bidness you two are coming from didn't end up peaceful, and I'm thinking that those fine ladies might be interested in revisiting the terms of whatever agreement you reached now that you've been de-horned. So how about you throw those hands behind your head, and let's start walking." Do I need to roll aggro again, or are they going to play nice? StringOfLetters posted:At the Yard; Juck, correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think T-Loin is inclined to take that kind of disrespect from someone he just, minutes ago, saw get her rear end beat into the dust. He laughs in your face, Angel Eyes, at the second funniest poo poo he's heard all day, and asks if you're really that eager for a second beatdown. Lala's not taking that bet. T-loin was one of the whelps -- young kids with something to prove, bloodthirsty and wild. They were drawn to the Wolves for obvious reasons; most didn't last more than a year. Juck had been like this once, but she'd survived -- on account of luck more than anything else, really. It remained to be seen whether T-loin would also survive, but his odds weren't good. Juck stepped between T-Loin and Angel Eyes, facing T-Loin directly with her back to the swordswoman. "T-loin, back down. We're done here." Pack Alpha: 2d6+3 7 T-Loin doesn't fight back. T-Loin was all revved up, though, and made to push past Juck. "gently caress that boss, I'mma stomp this fancy bitch." "Whatever. Your funeral, dipshit." Juck turned to Lala. "Can't say I didn't try. Wanna take bets on how long he lasts?" Lala thought about that. "I give him a minute." "Thirty seconds for me. If he lasts longer, you get first dibs on the next set of spoils. Angel Eyes, have fun." Mr. Prokosch posted:[b]"Big" Mike This one's easy, honestly. Juck is the leader of the Wolves, and the Wolves have a way of doing things. Juck's position as the leader of the Wolves is contingent upon her maintaining the respect of the gang, and that means Juck cannot take any poo poo, from anyone, in front of her gang. The easiest way to get Juck to follow along with a plan, especially if it's a good plan, is to make some kind of show about how badly you need the help of Juck and her gang of Wolves. Put on a good enough show, and you'll probably fool the Wolves; Juck'll probably be sharp enough to read between the lines, but she'll be grateful to you for not causing her any further pains in her rear end, and Juck's always going to be more amenable to going along with a plan when she's feeling grateful. "Well, if it's a distraction you need for this plan to go off, the Wolves can provide. We can ride through first, take the main road and draw any milling shrooms out, give you a clear path to the entrance to the Aquarium. You'll be on your own once you're inside, but we'll get you to the door." Profane Accessory fucked around with this message at 21:52 on Jun 26, 2014 |
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Jun 26, 2014 20:57
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=2/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=3:00 The Yard Juck eyes Angel Eyes and Mike carefully, looking for any hint of a deception but finding none. "All right, sounds like a plan to me. Me and my crew will run a distraction and clear out the entrance to the Aquarium loading dock, enough to get you guys to the door. We'll draw off as many shroomers as we can, and then loop back to escort your truck back out once you've got the parts. Any idea how much time you're going to need inside?" Campus Ginger isn't in any mood to buy Mega's story. "So, we get here a couple minutes ago, hear a bunch of gunshots, then you two fuckers come running out with guns drawn looking over your shoulders, and you want us to believe some bullshit about metal-faced gimps?" Isaiah rolls his eyes dramatically. "Yeah, seems to me there's maybe an easier explanation here -- these tweaky fuckers tried to knock over the campus infirmary and, in the grand tradition of the Familia, hosed things up royally." Ginger nods. "Alright, punks, we're going to go for a walk and chat with the campus folks. If it turns out you're not making GBS threads us, then I guess we'll be awfully embarrassed and send you on your way -- otherwise, well, we'll leave that up to the campus folks, I guess. You gonna walk nicely or are we going to have to drag you by your ankles?" Scrap's watching Not-Mega through all of this, gears in his head slowly ticking over. "Hey, Ging? Eye? Does this guy look a little extra-hosed to you? Like, bitten-hosed?" Ginger and Isaiah snap their attention to Not-Mega. Ginger cocks the hammer back on her pistol and draws a bead on Not-Mega. "Yeah, what is your deal, guy? Are you loving bit?"
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Jun 29, 2014 23:48
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=2/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=3:00 Campus Ginger, Isaiah and Scrap are walking the two Familia thugs Mega and NotMega through the crumbling campus towards the sorority house when a voice yells out to them. The noonday sun is overwhelmingly bright, and even shielding his eyes with his hands, Isaiah is having trouble making anyone out. Ginger's in a similar boat, but she thinks she recognizes the voice. "Spears, that you? Where the gently caress are you? We heard a bunch of shots and found these assholes clearing the scene pretty shady-like -- 'course, they swear up and down they ain't had nothing to do with it, but you know, smoke, fire, connections, you get the idea. Everything cool with you folks? 'Cause we got some gross-rear end water in a bottle we wanna show you." Throne Room Juck, Lala, Casey and T-loin make their way back to the Throne Room, and Juck fills Jeanette and Dez in on the plan (with some slight embellishments with regard to the particular importance of the role played by the Wolves in this venture). The Throne Room's quiet, though. "Where the gently caress's everybody else? I'd'a at least figured Taye and crew'd be back from their house call on the Familia -- you heard anything?" Dez shook his head, slowly. Maybe it was just Angel Eyes having brought it up a little while earlier, but Juck had a mental image of Karen Blackwolf pinning her to the ground, skewering her arm, frothy flecks of spit around her curled lip like a loving rabid animal, and Juck felt at least a twinge of worry. Not the sort of thing she was likely to share with anyone, though, so Juck did what she always did when something was eating at her: she sat on the rotting wood steps to the bar, pulled out her lucky stone, and quietly sharpened the edge on her machete.
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Jul 6, 2014 05:40
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=2/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=3:00 Campus After Scrap is done explaining the situation with the water from the K-Ranch well and the tainted sample is safely in the hands of the campus folks, Ginger, Isaiah and Scrap turn and start heading back to where their bikes are parked. Cheebs pipes up: "Hey! HEY! ASSHOLES! What about us?" Ginger turns and regards Mega and the other guy coolly. "Looks like it's your loving lucky day, shitstains. Go buy a lottery ticket." Ginger doesn't bother waiting to hear what they have to say in response, but they're sure poo poo not gettin their guns back any time soon. Throne Room Juck gets her report from her Wolves while Taye rolls her a nice fat spliff with nimble, practiced fingers. Juck is duly impressed, both by the quality of the weed Taye procured as well as the craftsmanship of his roll. "Well gently caress, aren't you the loving bargain, Taye? Nobody stab this guy for at least, like, a day or two, okay?" When Double Hole gets to the stuff about the Jefferson Ironworks, Juck nods thoughtfully. "Let's put a pin in that one for when we get back from the Aquarium. Always had a soft spot for arson gigs, there's just something so drat satisfying about watching things crumble into ashes. But eyes on the prize, Wolves: our first order of business is getting these filters from the Aquarium, so let's saddle up and pick up Ginger and the others at the Campus." Double Hole scratches his gut. "Hey, uh, boss? Don't, like, stab me any more or anything, but why the gently caress are we risking our necks for some community improvement project? It seems like this whole plan has a, like, minimal amount of killing people and loving up their poo poo -- you know, like, our specialty?" Juck sighs. "OK, gather round, kids, Juck's going to spell this all out for you nice and slow. Dog Head, you're not a complete idiot: care to explain the importance of the K-ranch?" Dog Head rubs his forehead, as if to encourage the underdeveloped part of his brain devoted to rational thinking. "Uh, well, there's that guy Marcus -- he makes pretty good moonshine?" "Yeah, no, but thanks for playing. Clean water, dumbasses. That's why everyone passes through the Ranch. Everyone we've ever loving robbed? Came through the ranch to fill up. And now that the well's hosed, we've got what's called a power vacuum going on. So here's the deal: Mike, lovably senile space cadet that he is, thinks he can rig up a filtration system that'll fix the well, and I'm inclined to believe him. We're going to help procure these filters, and then once the filtration system is up and running, we finally take over the K-Ranch once and for all. Once we control the well, then literally everyone in a 20 mile radius is physically dependent on us for their very livelihood. This works to our....?" "Advantage?" "Correct, Barndoor. This works to our advantage. gently caress giving that water away for free, we start charging what we want for it, and pretty soon we're all living off the fat of the land. Is everybody clear on the plan now? Yes? Good. Now get on your loving bikes and follow me to campus." The Wolves storm out of the Throne Room lot in unison, leaving behind a thick cloud of dust and diesel fumes that takes a very, very long time to finally settle back down the ground, and a rare silence spreads over the old decaying roadhouse.
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Jul 11, 2014 07:24
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=2/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=3:00 (rewind to just before the Wolves took off for the campus) Juck lets Taye say his piece -- she's seen way too many alphas brought down by their own hubris to completely brush off well-meant advice. Before she replies, she drops the butt of her spliff into the dust and casually stubs it out with her toe. "Of course I've heard of Harper. Never met her myself, but if half the poo poo in the stories is true, she was a loving badass. As far as I see things, she got herself drunk on power, got too greedy, and paid the price. That story's way older than Harper; I reckon it's probably about as old as the time some monkey declared he was going to be in charge of a bunch of other monkeys." Juck thought back to Crampon, and the look he'd gotten in his eyes as Juck had pushed her machete up under his ribcage. "The important thing is to always know how much you can take from folks before they'll band together and fight back, and then take just a smidge less than that. Stick around long enough, Taye, and you'll find I've got a pretty good eye for that sort of thing." (later, at the campus parking lot) The Wolves pull into the campus parking lot, where Ginger, Isaiah and Scrap are waiting with their bikes near Big Mike's somewhat-worse-for-wear looking truck. As Juck kills her engine, Ginger saunters over. "Heya boss -- we were just about to head home; we ran into a couple Familia jackasses, but they didn't really cause any bother, and dropped off that nasty water bottle, but they seemed real salty. They got that Angel Eyes running around with a loving sword, and they pretty much just turned us around and sent us on our way -- they got any reason to be pissed at us, 'sides from the obvious?" Juck thought back to the vision she'd had with the college girl in the back of Mike's truck; she'd more or less chalked it up to a pain hallucination, but she had a nagging doubt that maybe that had really happened, and that now the college girl knew more than was healthy. Whatever. Juck would have to burn that bridge once she got to it. "Can't think of anything -- some folks just have a lot of misplaced aggression, I guess." Juck quickly fills Ginger, Isaiah and Scrap in on the Aquarium plan while they wait for the convoy to assemble.
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Jul 25, 2014 21:35
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=2/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=3:00 In the campus lot, before heading out While Juck was explaining the plan to Ginger, Scrap and Isaiah, Jeanette eased herself off the back of her bike, carefully and slowly shifting weight onto her injured leg. Dez looked over and cocked an eyebrow, trying with partial success to keep from looking too worried. Jeanette caught the expression and grunted through her teeth. "Gotta take a piss." Dez nodded, and went back to checking the action on his gun. A minute later, Jeanette walked back to her bike, with the stiff-legged gait of someone trying to hide an injury. Juck's eyes narrowed as she watched her friend hobble towards her bike. Juck paused for a beat, trying to decide if she should say something, and then got up and walked over to Jeanette, nonchalantly lighting up a new smoke on the way over. "Hey lady. How's the leg?" "Good as new, Juck. Don't worry about it." "Alright -- I just want to be sure. This is some bad poo poo we're going into. If you've got any doubts about this, now's the time to air them. There's no shame in sitting this one out, you know?" Dog Head, dependably poo poo-headed, chimed in. "Yeah, Jeanette, you go down while we're in the poo poo, no-one's helping you out, you know? Certainly not me." "Yeah, that was pretty much a given, rear end in a top hat. I also don't recall inviting you to join this conversation, so... gently caress off?" Dog Head scowled and loped back towards his bike, throwing an extended middle finger over his shoulder as he walked away. "But seriously, Jeanette, you don't have to do this." "I said I was fine, boss. Besides, what am I going to do back at the roadhouse? Slowly die of thirst while I wait for you guys to get back? What if something goes wrong? You're gonna need someone who can actually shoot, unlike that lukewarm turd Dog Head. Seriously. I'm fine. And if I do go down, you can bet I'm taking a metric fuckton of shrooms down with me." Juck nodded, pulling deeply on her cigarette and locking eyes with Jeanette. She held the smoke in her lungs for a good while, before finally exhaling. "Alright." Jungle Town The wolves ride alongside Mike's truck along the eerily quiet highway, weaving expertly between bombed out rusting husks of old vehicles. Not as many shrooms as Juck thought there might be, which probably just meant there were going to be a shitton of them closer to the Aquarium. Passing a wrecked storefront, the first shroomer of the expedition lurched out into the street, tattered scrubs falling apart on his body. Juck spots him out of the corner of her eye -- the thing's definitely interested in Mike's truck, which is moving more slowly through all the wreckage than the bikes are. Juck motions to a few nearby riders, pointing to her eyes, holding up one finger, and then indicating back over her shoulder with a thumb. Slowing down, she pulls her bike around and loops back to Mike's truck. "Looks like we got our first customer -- might be worth putting him down now before he brings friends. But it's your plan, old-timer -- you want to leave him be, that's fine too." Juck pulls a couple shells out of her pocket and holds them in her mouth while she breaks open her streetsweeper, then loads the pair of shells and flips the barrels shut with a heavy thunk. "But just so we're clear, I'm of the mind that there's one right answer in this situation."
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Aug 6, 2014 01:00
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=2/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=3:00 With a slight scowl, Juck takes the hint and holsters the shotgun, drawing her machete with a long, rasping scrape. "Alright kids, nice and quiet -- that means no guns, Barndoor." The Wolves, brandishing their various and varied implements of melee destruction, fan out and circle the lone shroom, before descending on the hapless zombie in a flurry of whirling steel. A bit of the old ultraviolence: 2d6+4 12
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Aug 7, 2014 00:06
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=2/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=3:00 "Infiltration team's gonna be me, Partridge, Barndoor and Taye. The rest of the Wolves are going to hang back and wait for a pop flare signal from the Aquarium. With any luck we won't need it, but if we get into some poo poo and draw more shrooms than we can handle, the rest of the Wolves sweep through on bikes and draw off as many as they can, giving us a clear path back to the truck with our haul." Of the three Juck had chosen to come with her, Partridge was always a solid bet -- frosty and loyal. Taye was a bit more of an unknown quantity, but Juck figured if he ate poo poo it was no big loss to the Wolves, and maybe he'd turn out useful after all. Barndoor was more of a strategic choice -- Juck wasn't completely stupid, and she knew that if she left Dog Head's entire crew behind that he'd start trying to turn them away the second Juck left. But Dog Head needed Barndoor, and Juck was betting that he'd at least think twice before leaving Barndoor behind. Plus, Barndoor followed instructions reasonably well, didn't talk back, and was strong as hell -- Juck had no idea how big or unwieldy these parts Mike wanted were going to be, but it seemed likely that they'd probably need some muscle before the gig was up. Juck turned to Jeanette. "You're in charge of the Plan B team. One red flare, come in with the cavalry, loop past the Aquarium, try and draw them out east to give us a path back to the truck. If we get into a shitshow, I'll try and pop a green flare. Green flare means we're hosed, no hope of rescue. Get out while you can. Same goes if we're not back in 12 hours. Got it?" Jeanette nods grimly. Juck checks her ammo pouch one last time and flips the leather catch on the holster of her shotgun, turning to Angel Eyes. "We're ready when you are. Lead on, hot stuff."
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Aug 9, 2014 21:31
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=3/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=3:00 Juck and her team follow Angel Eyes' lead, doing their best to keep a low profile. Subtlety and grace aren't really Juck's strong suit, though, and that goes double for the Wolves in general, so if Juck's going to be honest she'll probably admit that Angel Eyes is maybe better at this ninja poo poo.
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Aug 13, 2014 08:28
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=3/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=3:00 Juck had never been much of the planning type; if some enterprising sociologist were to investigate the history of Juck's various and sundried decisions, they would find a clear bias towards "Brute Force" over "Finesse". And so, when Angel Eyes makes her nod for the front-door-guns-blazing approach, Juck raises an eyebrow but it's certainly not a disapproving one; more one of pleasant surprise. Juck gives the universal signal of "After you", followed by a series of convoluted hand signals to the point of "You go first, we'll cover you with these here guns, then you can cover us as we follow." How much of that gets across is anyone's guess; Juck's kind of crap with the whole hand signal thing, if we're being honest here.
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Nov 23, 2014 02:51
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=5/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=3:00 Juck and company watch Angel Eyes dash for the lobby from their cover, and Barndoor lets out a low whistle as the swordswoman decapitates the lumbering shroom. Juck rolls her eyes, but glances at the nocked and rusted blade of her machete and knows that there's no way she could pull off something like that so cleanly. Angel Eyes gets inside and Juck starts a count, figuring she'll be running back out real fast if things look bad in there; after five seconds, Juck glances left and right at her crew and gives the sign to roll out. Sticking low and crouched, the Wolves dash across to the front doors, keeping an eye out for trouble. Not sure if Angel Eyes already covered the Act under fire roll with hers or if Juck needs to roll separately Acting under fire: 2d6+1 10 The wolves cover the distance easily, and once inside the lobby Juck puts Taye on lookout duty by the doors and gets Barndoor to haul a couple filing cabinets around towards the windows, assembling a rudimentary barricade in case things got ugly. The employee area is completely dark and clouded with spores. Juck pats herself down for some lights or a flare and comes up dry. "Hey, who's got the flares?" loving Thieves (+Hard): 2d6+3 6
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Nov 27, 2014 20:06
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=5/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=3:00 Juck was pretty well practiced at maintaining an icy demeanor even when scared shitless, and this was definitely one of those times where that practice was paying off. Her heart was pounding away in her chest, and the voice in her head was screaming that there was no way they were going to get away with this, that there were just too drat many of those things out there, that they had to be coming. But as the moments ticked away, her breathing began to slow and deepen, and nothing was coming charging through the doors they had just entered. Carefully, slowly, Juck pushed herself up on fingertips and toes and backed slowly through the dim atrium towards the hallway Angel Eyes had taken, communicating with her crew using hand signals. Given that nothing seemed to be coming in after them from outside, and that there wasn't much in the way of materials for building real cover, Juck didn't see much point in trying to fortify and hold the atrium area. Besides, Angel Eyes was going to need their help hauling the filters out. The rattling metal sound from further on down the hallway was cacophonous. Juck's jaw clenched hard, and a cold roll of sweat ran down her side from her armpit. Could be Angel Eyes had just knocked over something in the dark back there, but Juck didn't take her for the clumsy type. She signaled Partridge and Barndoor, motioning for them to move past her position into the main hall, and brought Taye over to her by a bunch of dusty and decrepit furniture. Juck whispered directly into his ear, barely making a sound. "Hold here for a thirty count, make sure nothing's coming after us, then bring up the rear. And step lightly; I'm getting the feeling we're not the first assholes who had this idea." Juck stayed low and began to move quietly through the darkness into the main hall, following Barndoor and Partridge and cursing those shifty thieving cultist bastards under her breath the whole way. Most people knew well enough not to gently caress with the Wolves; if Juck got out of this alive, those cultists were going to find out why.
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Jan 5, 2015 04:23
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=5/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=3:00 Juck took a second to reassure herself she wasn't shot, and then started running through the options. Maybe a warning shot? Juck'd heard of some folks who liked to demonstrate that their guns worked before they'd put a bullet in someone, which just seemed like a waste of a perfectly good bullet to Juck, but there was no telling some folks. Then again, maybe they were just bad shots? Juck threw this one out pretty quickly; the odds of some rear end in a top hat who couldn't hit a slow-moving backlit target with two bullets to play with having managed to survive in shroomer country had to be pretty drat low. But then, some people did seem to have an uncanny knack for staying alive way longer than they had any right to. Juck pulled out her beaten lighter and, with a couple false starts, managed to get it to cough up a smoky flame. Juck lit the smoke dangling from her lips and closed the lighter, the red ember at the end of the cigarette lighting her face in the darkness. "Maybe third times the charm, assholes. Why don't you try getting a little closer? Easier target that way," Juck announced, not sure where the shots were coming from. She couldn't see Barndoor or Partridge, but if they were following standard procedure they'd be moving to flank as soon as the shots were fired.
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Jan 12, 2015 03:24
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Juck Barter=0 | Exp=5/5 | Harm=None | Fatigue=3:00 Juck Something that could kill me: 2d6+1 4 I pick two from serious poo poo (disabled limb, wound won't heal), GM picks one additional from pain Turns out third time was the charm after all. Juck's gotta hand it to the motherfucker, it's a good shot. Clean through the left femur, and the angle it goes to lets Juck know that leg ain't gonna bear weight again any time soon. Juck drops to the cold floor like a sack of poo poo and rolls over onto her back, leg twisting grotesquely away from itself. The floor feels soothing against her flushed cheek, her mouth is completely dry, and she'd do just about anything for a few drops of water. The shooting'll start soon, she thinks, and then the shrooms will show up. And yet, for some reason her mind is on Big Mike. She doesn't know why she thinks it, or why she says it out loud, but staring up into the dusty, inky blackness towards the hallway ceiling, she whispers, "I wish Mike were here." Partridge and Barndoor Seeing Juck go down hard, the plan goes out the window. Partridge and Barndoor had been slinking along the walls towards the barricade, looking for cover, but as soon as the boss catches one they let rip. The gunfire is unbelievably loud, the muzzle flashes blinding. Somewhere in the back of Partridge's head is the thought that he might come to regret this piece of brashness; Barndoor just sees red. Retaliation: 2d6+3 11
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Jan 12, 2015 07:33
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