|
 Fire scorched the land before anyone can remember, and now it is ashy grey. The only color you see with any frequency is blood red, and even that's greyer than you think it should be. Even rarer is the clear sheen of water, reflecting the light of a sun that only rarely peeks out from the dusty clouds hanging in the air. The same clouds keep the land colder than it has any right to be and finding enough refuse to burn for warmth is a rarity. Anyway, that's how it's been for as long as you can remember. But... if the wastes are anything, they're always changing. Who knows what you'll find over the horizon? ------------------------------------------------------- Yep, it's the an Apocalypse World, 2nd Edition game! Some basics: About Playbooks: Core + Limited Edition playbooks are fine. Just stick with the 2E books now. (Here's links to the Core (and moves) and Limited Edition playbooks.) About Sex: If it happens, fine. If it doesn't, fine. Just fade to black, don't be creepy, and we'll all have a great time. About the World: Other than what's up there, feel free to go hog wild. About Recruitment: I'm looking for 4-5 players looking to tear through these ashy wastes for whatever reasons drive them. Capfalcon fucked around with this message at 05:03 on Oct 4, 2016 |
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 04:52
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 28, 2024 12:57 |
|
|
yisssssssss When all around you is nothing but ash, ash and more ash any change at all might as well be paradise. The fortified crossroads called Slurry is hardly the legendary Garden, but for some jingle you can get just about anything to help you forget that. Hell, they even have a well that goes down to the water locked away under the cold hard ground, and brother you do not know how good clean water is until you've had it and it gets taken away. Used to be old Mad-Cap ran the hold, and when he got crazy (which was a lot) he'd pump that water out all over the ash and have his gang shoot anyone who went for it. Stories about how Duchess took it over get pretty wild - was she a concubine, an assassin, or just a stranger who stepped up? Either way these are her walls and her water now. Don't forget that, and maybe you can take shelter here for a while. If you don't like it, there's always the ash wastes. The Hardholder posted:Name: Duchess Vehicles posted:'Expenses' Speed 0 Handling 0 Massive 2 Armour 3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L53gjP-TtGE thatbastardken fucked around with this message at 14:09 on Nov 23, 2016 |
|
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 04:59
|
|
|
Whoops! Time to rewrite my character sheet real quick. Phone posting strikes again!    The Maelstrom howls. I am its Wolf given flesh. The Brainer posted:
Tricky fucked around with this message at 20:38 on Dec 8, 2016 |
|
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 05:21
|
|
|
edit: Alright, this is pretty much done. Might still gently caress with the bio a bit. Blackthorne, the Chopper The 'Lypse took uhlot. But it didn' take the roads. Ah did. 'Cause the strongest git ta do what they want, an out here, that's me an my boys. We go where we want, when we want, take whatever looks nice at the time, might be we kill some idjit that gets it in his head that he's anythin' more than a speed bump. It's the only real way ta live out here, ya ask me. Why work and build somethin' when folk like me are just gonna come round an take it? Don't make no sense. quote:Blackthorne, the Chopper https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9IfHDi-2EA ShootaBoy fucked around with this message at 02:31 on Oct 24, 2016 |
|
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 05:35
|
|
|
I am down for this! E: see faceless below Error 404 fucked around with this message at 06:31 on Oct 4, 2016 |
|
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 05:46
|
|
|
 nws-ish  (Man-taker, Spanish manteca) BATTLEBABE Some old geezer with a shotgun jumps out of his rocking chair and wheezes "Bear!" as though anyone else in his ramshackle farmhouse knew what one was. There it is, crawling around, sniffing the ground, growling. It prostrates itself, rear end in the air, then roars, pulling up a massive iron plate. It rises and falls with a rusty whine, creating a rushing dusty cloud that engulfs toothless's porch not much later. Thump and jingle, thump and squish, over and over again until the smoke clears and the she-bear is reared up on her hind legs, lashing garbage bag after garbage bag to some kind of sled. She starts to pull it like she's in the Iditirod, only turning around when one of the inbred begats cracks a rifle into one of the passengers, used tissues sprouting out like a fine feather pillow losing a fight. The bear drops the yoke, leans forward and charges, snorting with exertion, cinders sloughing off her body and flying in her wake. More guns report and the she-bear falls, stopped no more than 30 yards from the endzone. One of the men coughs, breaking the silence. Then it rises from its grave, growling "I'm a boar, little hamlet," pulling from its back a leaf blower, or a vacuum cleaner, or a bladeless chainsaw with a handle on top and crank on the side. The men shout, but are drowned out by a crescendo of throaty laughter and then the deafening CHUK-CHUK-CHUK like from a massive rusty motor, but instead from that thing that the bear is turning its crank. The paterfamilias, once a baseball player with eyes on the ball, see in slow motion the flak and shrapnel coming in waves out of the strobing weapon before he and all his seed are torn apart. That night, a woman looking through a cracked spyglass points into the distance and shouts "Manteikah!" and men run out open the gate for the tractor hauling a wagon full of blessed combustible garbage, guns, and a gas cans. The bear unstraps her gasmask to reveal her round, rosy cheeked face, completely unsullied by the blasted landscape. She open mouthed sighs, cracks her neck from side to side, and mutters to herself, "Piece of cake..." When everything's unloaded, she sings a song for the kids around the campfire before they go to bed. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cHCBwQIfalU&t=200s quote:Woman, casual wear, sweet face, frosty eyes, gorgeous body. slydingdoor fucked around with this message at 19:01 on Oct 7, 2016 |
|
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 05:56
|
|
|
 WADE - The Faceless Music starts, fade in on a ramshackle building, middday as dust drifts lazily across the scene My mask is sodden in sweat, making it itchy in the still and oppressive air. My gloved hand flexes on the worn tape wrapped around the grip of my blade... <Over here, my sweet meats, your prince of justice and genocide has something to say: Gone are the days of the tentacle and the age of the gods and mercy is far away... We are fighters of the middle, the second act in the three-part MEAT play, AND I WILL WIN BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR!> The heavily armed gang spreads out as they enter the bombed out shell of the building I've taken as a lair. The biggest guy with the biggest gun opens a mouth full of rotten teeth to exhale words. "Look sharp fuckheads, this loony dipshit's got a huge payday on his head, Nihilus says we either bring his head or don't bother loving coming back..." <I know what I have become... I am the inside of this world... I taste the gore, and I smell the crying... AND I WANT MORE! I want to bathe in your flesh, I want to savor your fear. I wanna live inside a castle built of your agony, AND I WANT TO CRUMBLE IT WITH MY BLADE THROUGH YOUR CAROTID ARTERY!> The gang steps slowly through the dimness, clearing room after room. Nobody looks up. Nobody ever looks up. I drop from my hidey with all the noise of a shadow at midnight. I straighten my tie as I reach the closest thug. I shall call him...Stinky. <Pitiful people prepare, plead plenty, Powerful platitudes presenting phenomenal patriotic poundings! Punching perverse puppets? Pulping, pleasantly, priceless putrid pasties!> I whirl like a cracked out ginsu guru limbs and people-juice arc liberally. Several die quickly but the others turn and fire... <Look at me when I scream at your soul! You loud sacks of filth and sour cream can hit me with your pain pinatas all day, but you'll never take the jellied fantasies of my wasted youth! My stomach is clear and my mind is full of bacon!> My breathing hitches and stutters as I survey the meat laid out before me, my fuckin chest hurts. I've been perforated, but now I have a machinegun... <HO HO HO HO HO HO HO HO!!!> quote:Name: Wade quote:FACELESS MOVES: Error 404 fucked around with this message at 06:27 on Oct 5, 2016 |
|
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 06:22
|
|
|
 Killer, the Gunlugger The first memory I have is wandering the wastes. Not as a child, but as a man. Walking, with guns in my hand and no purpose in my mind. At least, none that I remember. Even that's blurry - I know I managed to reach civilization sometime afterwards. I do remember when I realized just how well I could use those guns. It was like a natural talent. And even if they don't like it, people have a need for violence these days. And I need to protect what little we have from those outside who would take it and those inside who would destroy it. It's not nice, but it's necessary. quote:
Heliotrope fucked around with this message at 03:28 on Oct 5, 2016 |
|
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 09:40
|
|
|
 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L035HzJJm3E The Maelstrom has a voice and it wants to be heard. Iggy is singularly devoted to that cause, burning day and night with feverish inspiration, new songs and maddening noise alike demanding to be let loose upon the world. She has no long-term plan, no particular goal to fight for. Only a drive to keep moving, keep playing, keep fighting, keep loving, keep living. If that helps or hinders others, great and who cares, respectively. If you've got the balls or the barter to grab the wolf by the throat, she'll play your gigs. Whatever else the music can do, it doesn't fill an empty stomach. pre:Name: Iggy Playbook: The Show Look: woman, scrounge wear costume, enchanting face, intense eyes, graceful body STATS • Cool +0 • Hard +1 • Hot +1 • Sharp -1 • Weird +2 GEAR Scrounge wear with ballistic plates here and there (1-armor) Magnum (3-harm close reload loud) Some sort of unholy screaming metal hellbeast in the shape of a guitar RIG • A gigantic armored war-vehicle The Metal Slug (all weapons have been stripped and replaced with amps and speakers) speed=0, handling=0, 3-armor, massive=3 (2 battle options) strengths: rugged, workhorse looks: powerful, quirky weaknesses: loud, temperamental battle options: 2-armor specialized options: +1-armor, +1-massive • When you play, you fill the air from horizon to horizon, and people miles away feel the earth rumble. • There’s basically always some number of people around who want eagerly to have sex with you. Whenever you feel like it, ask the MC who they are this time. Hx: TBD pre:MOVES Off the leash: whenever you’re about to do something you don’t always do, turn to the person who holds your leash. Ask them: • Do I think you’d be cool with this? If you do think they’d be cool with it, then no problems. If you don’t think they would, you can do it anyway if you want, but first roll+hot. On a 10+, cool, carry on. On a 7–9, they can choose to erase one of your stat highlights, as though they’d hit you with seduce or manipulate and given you the stick. On a miss, they don’t hold your leash anymore. Choose someone else to hold it (whether they want to or not). My Music: When you perform, you can, if you try, crack open the world. Roll+weird. On a 10+, choose 1. On a 7–9, choose 1, but you suffer 1-harm ap loud. On a miss, choose 1, but you and everyone within reach of you suffers 1-harm ap loud. • You make the noise that the ancient bronze armies made, beating their spears on their shields. In battle, you can give someone seizing by force (or a variant) +1choice. • You make the noise that reverberates inside a vulture’s skull when it scrapes its beak on carrion bone. Tell the MC that all the NPCs who hear it now form a hunting pack, and ask what they do. • You make the noise in the heart of doomed soldiers when they realize that they have lost everything they loved. In battle, tell the MC that your enemies panic, and ask what happens. • You make the noise that the alien brains made when they pushed the button that ended humanity. You can use your audience for augury. • You make the noise that your lover’s breath and blood makes when they’re turned on. Tell the MC that this place becomes shifting ground. Ask what happens. • You make the noise that the last whale heard when it sang and no one answered. Tell the MC that this place becomes a prison (impulse: to contain, to deny egress), a furnace (impulse: to consume things), or a mirage (impulse: to entice and betray people), your choice. Ask what happens. • You make the noise that the dinosaurs heard when they looked up and saw the fireball. Tell the MC that all the NPCs who hear it now form a cult, and ask what they do. • You make the noise that your soul made when the worst happened, and you learned that you were still alive, and were not alone. Tell the MC that all the NPCs who hear it now form a family, and ask what they do. • You make the noise that the citizens of Rome heard when Spartacus’ army smashed open their gates. Tell the MC that any NPCs who hear it who’ve been enslaved rise up, throw off their chains, take up arms, and attack their slavers, and ask what happens. You can instead, if you choose, pander to your audience. Roll+hot. On a 10+, choose 1. On a 7–9, choose 1, and take -1weird to the next time you try to crack open the world. On a miss, choose 1, and the next time you try to crack open the world, don’t roll, treat it as a miss. • They cough up. The person who holds your leash gets 10-barter. • They cough up. The person who holds your leash gets 6-barter. • They cough up. The person who holds your leash gets 1-barter. Show Special: If you and another character have sex, sweet. Shardix fucked around with this message at 21:22 on Oct 7, 2016 |
|
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 10:21
|
|
|
Nvm. May app, may not.
Yami Fenrir fucked around with this message at 17:34 on Oct 4, 2016 |
|
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 11:21
|
|
|
In progress Gunlugger, Washington. "His art is death. He's about to paint his masterpiece."
|
|
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 14:36
|
|
|
i just want to point out now that the apocalypse was clearly pokemon related
|
|
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 14:37
|
|
|
Might put up a News here soon.
|
|
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 16:15
|
|
|
A Faceless will be here. Sports Faceless.
|
|
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 16:19
|
|
|
thatbastardken posted:i just want to point out now that the apocalypse was clearly pokemon related There may or may not be fire lizards and laser dragons out in the wastes. Only one way to find out!
|
|
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 16:30
|
|
|
Considering a Waterbearer.
|
|
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 16:43
|
|
|
 Shoshannah, the Driver  The Screamin' Eagle People look out to where the roads once were, the sprawling tendrils of what was, that controlled the flow of life throughout the world, and see nothing but torn-up asphalt, twisted, gnarled tentacles from when someone woke the beast up and it thrashed about in a drowsy daze. Anywhere else is just baked mud, boiled-away lakes and riverbeds, cracked earth. They see it as impassable. I see it as a playground. It takes more than just a special kind of ride to roam the wasteland. It takes reflexes, reaction times under a split second, and the guts to shoot a gap with a half-inch of clearance. Having a ride like this definitely doesn't hurt though. Sometimes I can't tell if people recognize me or the Eagle. They all seem to recognize one of us, though. The Driver posted:Name: Shoshanna Alaois fucked around with this message at 14:11 on Oct 8, 2016 |
|
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 16:52
|
|
|
 "Needles" Skip D'wa Skip was raised in a cult that preached togetherness, communal living, self-sufficiency, and self-sacrifice. They were not a naive to the requirements of life though. When Skip was 12 he was given to a nearby gang of raiders as part of the yearly tribute, along with some food, fine china, and gasoline. Placed at the bottom of the gang's hierarchy Skip had to work hard to survive and evade abuse. The gang had a cutter they called Doc who treated wounds based off some handed down knowledge and practical experience, and Skip found his niche working under him for the next decade, working other odd jobs with the raiders when no one was sick or hurt. Eventually he became a valuable enough commodity that he was traded again to a different, more nomadic gang where he picked up the name Needles. He traveled with them until they got into a bad scrape raiding a hardhold. Only three of the gangers survived, and all of them were injured. Skip saw his chance, drugged them up on chillstabs then put a bullet into each of their heads and set off on his own. He’s now set up a small practice, training a couple of young kids (Shugusa & Mox) to be his helpers. He wants is to help out when he can, but to stay independent and in comfort insofar as possible. He feels betrayed by Preacher and his parents, but still intermittently keeps up his religious practice and diet. Stats: Cool+1 Hard=0 Hot+1 Sharp+2 Weird-1 Gear: angel kit, no supplier oddments worth 2-barter A doctors coat, flack jacket, jeans, and a pair of gloves. 9mm (2-harm close loud) Look: Man with kind face, clear eyes and a rangy body. Moves: Sixth sense: when you open your brain to the world’s psychic maelstrom, roll+sharp instead of +weird. Infirmary: you get an infirmary, a workspace with life support, a drug lab and a crew of 2 (Shigusa & Mox, maybe). Get patients into it and you can work on them like a savvyhead on tech (cf ). neaden fucked around with this message at 22:59 on Oct 4, 2016 |
|
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 17:24
|
|
|
 Mastiff, The battlebabeThe most important thing a person can do is have their priorities straight. Knowing what is worth your time, effort, and stuff. Food, water, and a loaded gun. Those are easy, everyone knows you need those. But what you really need is an eye for quality and rarity. Now Tib here is obviously both. Now the coghead I got him off of called it big dog but with 7.1.8 on its side I figured it it could have a more personal name. It cost me everything I had at the time so drat straight I was naming it. Worth it too. I've even rebuilt my little library. That was the easy part though. Too many suckers out there don't see anything worthwhile in a bit of words. Hell I doubt half of them can read. But it was the coggies who wrote those books who built stuff like Tib in the first place. The jerk who thinks she robbed me blind just replaced the parts. The best books of course are the ones about how they fought back when there were machines spitting out guns and bullets like a dust storm. You had to be real good at fighting back then. The enemy would just send bombs out of the sky at you. They had to dig holes and live in them just not to get shot. And there is a the real simple genius. You want to live? Don't get hit. I collect metal plates and trade them for my books. The idiots strap them to their chests and all over. It's a real great way to cook yourself and pass out let me tell you. Even if it stops the bullet they're still on their rear end. What are they going to do about the next bullet then? Now building up the fat stack of gear Tib helps me lug around wasn't something anyone could do in a short time. But it really was simple. The first trick is not wasting time on what you don't absolutely need. The other is that there is plenty out there that people are done using. You know, the dead. Now most of the stuff is not in working order. The ash blowing through breaks down most of everything. And even if you free up some fresh gear it's not always good. Lots of blood. I don't like rifling through the pockets when there's that stuff all over. It's why I use the weapons I due. Besides of course them being the best options for someone who knows what they're doing. I could still do better, your equipment can never be too good. It's a gradual crawl that requires patience if you want good gear. It was months between getting this rifle and the scope, and then even longer before I got these better bullets. If I'm going to hock armored plates I'm drat well going to be packing something that can deal with them. I feel like I'm plateauing, honestly. Like I'm reaching a peak of prowess. If one even exists. But as long as there is still wastes I haven't been to there should be even better guns out there. Something complicated with Tib. I've read about them. But the books haven't given a clue of where to look. That's fine. Fighting still feels like a challenge, and people pay top dollar if you want to take up their battles for them. Hell they gave me the blade I'm using right now just for agreeing to that one job. They wanted me to succeed after all. I'll stop looking when I'm dead, and I don't plan on dying. quote:Mastiff
|
|
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 19:36
|
|
|
 Eye, the News “-and that was Rhys-anna with her love ballad SNM. Now we’re going live to our founder and star reporter with a breaking news segment.” “Thanks Jazz! Hey-ho listeners, this is your Eye On the Ground reporting live from the Shithole as Luka’s Bears are launching a sneak attack on Gran-gran’s House in violation of the Cleanwater Truce.” *sound of distant gunfire* “Oh, looks like Gran-gran wasn’t as surprised as Luka hoped, they’ve got that big momma-jomma MG earning its keep!” *sound of nearby ricochets* “HEY ASSHOLES, I'M BROADCASTING HERE!” *soft popping noises* “Sorry about that listeners, had to explain how Freedom of the Press worked to a couple Bear outriders. Speaking of the Bears, looks like they’re heading home empty-handed again. So I’m gonna send you back to the studio were the Ditch-witch will tell you all how to maximize your lichen harvest. Eye-Out!” Eye grew up in the shadow of the Beggar’s Bluff Tower, listening to the greybeards’ tales of the Bell-man and his words carried on the invisible winds. They fell in love with the idea of the Truth traveling past the holds and outposts, for all the people to hear. It took years of training, repairing, and stealing every last bit of broadcasting gear from Fixit’s storehouse, but finally KUSS went on-air four years ago. Oddly enough, Eye spend most of their time away from the station, gathering the news and supplies necessary to keep things running. quote:Eye, the News PoultryGeist fucked around with this message at 01:41 on Nov 16, 2016 |
|
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 23:43
|
|
|
Working on a Child-Thing.
|
|
#
?
Oct 4, 2016 23:54
|
|
|
 Valda "Zombie" Veres, the Savvyhead Every night the dreams come, confusing and terrifying. They tell stories with no end or beginning, in places that couldn't possibly exist in our world. But while the horrors inflict worse pain than any raider has ever imagined, they always leave something behind. Ideas for me to forge. Blades, bombs, gleaming suits of armor. Most useless once outside the dreams and in my hands, but all valuable to the scavs that find my home. Compared to the dreams, the waking world ain't so bad. Especially if you've got the know-how to fix the ancient gear that's every goddamn where. Makes you kinda precious out here. Even the raiders pretend to be human if they've got busted up poo poo. M dad always said the best way to make it in this world is to be irreplaceable. So that's how I live. Everyone needs me, and in return I need my dreams. Just wish they would stop being worse than death. pre:Savvyhead Look: Woman, Scrounge wear plus tech, Plain face, Appraising eyes, Wiry body Stats: Cool+1 Hard+1 Hot-1 Sharp=0 Weird+2 Moves Things speak: whenever you handle or examine something interesting, roll+weird. On a hit, you can ask the MC questions. On a 10+, ask 3. On a 7–9, ask 1: •Who handled this last before me? •Who made this? •What strong emotions have been most recently nearby this? •What words have been said most recently nearby this? •What has been done most recently with this, or to this? •What’s wrong with this, and how might I fix it? Treat a miss as though you’ve opened your brain to the world’s psychic maelstrom and missed the roll. Oftener right: when a character comes to you for advice, tell them what you honestly think the best course is. If they do it, they take +1 to any rolls they make in the doing, and you mark an experience circle. "The Graveyard", Valda's Workshop includes a garage, a junkyard of raw material, and machining tools. When you go into your workspace and dedicate yourself to making a thing, or to getting to the bottom of some poo poo, decide what and tell the MC. The MC will tell you “sure, no problem, but...” and then 1 to 4 of the following: •It’s going to take hours/days/weeks/months of work. •First you’ll have to get/build/fix/figure out —— •You’re going to need —— to help you with it. •It’s going to cost you a fuckton of jingle. •The best you’ll be able to do is a crap version, weak and unreliable. •It’s going to mean exposing yourself (plus colleagues) to serious danger. •You’re going to have to add —— to your workplace first. •It’s going to take several/dozens/hundreds of tries. •You’re going to have to take —— apart to do it. The MC might connect them all with “and,” or might throw in a merciful “or.” Once you’ve accomplished the necessaries, you can go ahead and accomplish the thing itself. The MC will stat it up, or spill, or whatever it calls for. Gear Oddments worth 6 barter Makeshift Revolver (2-harm close reload loud) Sex Move If you and another character have sex, they automatically speak to you, as though they were a thing and you’d rolled a 10+, whether you have the move or not. the other player and the MC will answer your questions between them. Otherwise, that move never works on people, only things. Hx On your turn, ask either or both: •Which of you is the most strange? For those characters, write Hx+1. •Which one of you is the biggest potential problem? For that character, write Hx+2. For everyone else, write Hx-1. You’ve got other stuff to do and other stuff to learn. Brainamp fucked around with this message at 00:51 on Oct 10, 2016 |
|
#
?
Oct 5, 2016 05:04
|
|
|
Duchess, the Hardholder Who's vanished recently that used to come through the crossroads? Why do you miss them? Why are you glad their out of your hair? Who do you think's to blame? Who's your right hand in the hold? How do you know you can trust them? Sundown, The Brainer What interesting tidbit did you find out from the last person you brain scanned? Did they come through it in one piece? If not, who's after you for it? How'd you get all that jingle you got in your pockets? Blackthorne, the Chopper Who's still grumbling about the last time you had to make an example to keep the punks in line? What was it over? Who's the newest member of your gang, and how long they been with you? What'd you make them to prove they deserved to join up? Manteikah, the Battlebabe So, sounds like that last gig you pulled went pretty well. If you could keep pulling that off, why aren't you there anymore? Was it someone or something that happened? Where'd you get the gasmask? The wastes aren't really toxic, per se, so why to you hang on to it? Wade, The Faceless What does your mask mean to you? I mean, you could wear anything, right? Why THAT mask? Also, why a mask at all? It ain't like most scavengers are lookers to begin with... How'd you get your... creative... vocabulary? I mean, that inner monologue doesn't sound like anyone you've ever met... right? Killer, the Gunlugger You may not have solid memories of the times before you can remember, but you do have dreams. What's the most horrifying dream you've had? What's your best guess as to how your got your skills? Iggy, the Show What was special about the last show you put on? I mean, I bet they're all basically channeled riots, but what went particularly right? What do you think the Maelstrom wants people to hear? What do you think it needs? Shoshannah, the Driver How'd you get that car of yours? Is it special to you beyond being a particularly souped up car? What's the baddest stunt you ever pulled? You know, the one that makes bars go quiet when you walk in? "Needles" Skip D'wa, the Angel What's the queerest thing your religious practices see you doing? Would you lash out against your old community if you found them again? Which of your crew is going to make a good angel some day? What's the other one good at? How'd both of them convince you to take them under your wing? Mastiff, the Battlebabe What's the best book that wasn't about fighting that you've read? How'd you even learn how to read, anyway? Who's someone you've met that you think had their priorities beyond survival in order? What did they value above all else? Eye, the News You've stepped on plenty of toes, I'm sure, but who's the last person you helped with your broadcast? Specificly helped, outside of the general idea that the Truth can set you free? What's important enough for you to Lie about? Would you EVER Lie on air?
|
|
#
?
Oct 5, 2016 05:55
|
|
|
Capfalcon posted:Wade, The Faceless <Made from Malevolent Maelstrom Miasma More-More-More Making Myriad Mentions, a Marriage of Mental Mechanics, You were fantastic. SO WAS I!!!> quote:Also, why a mask at all? It ain't like most scavengers are lookers to begin with... <This is my favorite song! Dance to the drum beat of the ballistic, fetishistic, sadistic! Let the bullets scrape me clean and never, ever, EVER flash a sassy eye at the good doctor! > quote:How'd you get your... creative... vocabulary? I mean, that inner monologue doesn't sound like anyone you've ever met... right? <There is no me, there is no you! There is only the twenty-four hour murder spree of shining rusted METAL! I drink the blood and eat the loot and breathe the numbers, because I! AM! A MONSTER! NOW AND FOREVER! >
|
|
#
?
Oct 5, 2016 06:59
|
|
|
Capfalcon posted:Duchess, the Hardholder Rash hasn't been seen or heard from in getting on near a month now, and he never goes farther than Big Mound or Jawbone on his little trading trips. If he's gone for good I'm going to have to find someone else with his magic touch on machines - he got the Pump running better than it has in years, and next time he came through I was going to have him see if he could get the Antenna rigged up to get a clear signal. I won't miss his tendency to cut up the whores at Miss-cheef's place when he gets high on that battery acid poo poo he cooks up though. Probably her or one of hers hired themselves a killer to take him out. Or he went blind (if he ain't dead, do not accept a drink from him) and wandered into quick-ash. If i did find out someone had him killed I'd have to make some kind of example of them, but I'm not going looking. Zeb is my number one guy. He's old, wiry and he's got more than a few parts missing but in the day he was a bad motherfucker. Even the dumbest of the kids in the Guards respect him or fear him enough that it makes no difference. Mad-Cap took several of those bits for...recreational purposes, and since I took that fucker out before he finished the job Zeb swore he'd have my back. We've spilled enough blood for each other since then that we both know the other is for real, like the time the hard old bastard singlehandedly pushed back Gastro's gang when they breached the compound while most of the Guard was off raiding. Or when the Pale Brood caught us away from our truck while we were tracking a caravan and he lost his favorite leg and I had to carry him for nearly three loving days to get home. All those metal parts make him heavier than he looks. thatbastardken fucked around with this message at 01:50 on Oct 6, 2016 |
|
#
?
Oct 5, 2016 06:59
|
|
|
Capfalcon posted:Sundown, The Brainer I was up north working my usual extortion racket. Causes worthy of the Maelstrom are few and far between. Most are mere sheep for the wolves to devour. I find a hold, ingratiate myself with the holder, and wait for them to succumb to their lusts. It's all a matter of a psychic prod to the right section of the brain. It's fascinating what people will do for that stimulation. They might promise me untold riches, tell me their darkest secrets, or even tell me what they would sell their very soul for. Worthless, most of the time. But Hormel actually told me something worthwhile. He had a rich cache of jingle that was ripe for the taking. Protection money for some warlord. Not my problem. Not his either, not anymore. He survived the night, if that's what you're asking. It was the compulsions I layered on afterwards that ended up killing him. His thoughts betrayed the location of the cache, but his security force wouldn't exactly let me walk in and clean them out. I had Hormel do it instead. Why would they question their boss? I'm sure he gave them some line about paying the tribute early. Like I said. Not my problem. I will give him this. He fought back at the end. Many do not, simply choosing to follow my will. It did not end well for him. The walls of his room were decorated in blood, viscera, and gray matter when I left with the goods. It was a matter of poor timing that Trance, his head of security, had come to check on Hormel. Perhaps he noticed something off in his behavior, perhaps it was simply a routine check-in. I was able to shake him off, mostly by burning the commands I had placed among his guards. The confusion offered me a chance to escape in one of their vehicles. I doubt he's dead. He's too stubborn. The Maelstrom could use him, if he wasn't so loyal to such a waste of flesh.
|
|
#
?
Oct 5, 2016 07:55
|
|
|
Capfalcon posted:Shoshannah, the Driver The Eagle comes from my... I don't know if he's my father or not, but the guy who raised me. It was his masterwork, the machine he spent almost his entire life tuning, modifying, tinkering with, driving from hold to hold, running supplies and information, always on the lookout for a new scrapyard he could pick clean of parts. One day, he lost his right hand. He could never find a prosthetic with good enough mobility to steer and work the shifter with, so that was the end of his driving days. I came into his life not too long after. Again, I can't say for sure he's my pa, but he's also the only parental figure I've ever known in my life. He taught me everything, driving, maintenance, the best routes. It was like he had a map of the whole world in his head. It felt like that when he would co-pilot. Sometimes it still feels like he's there in the seat next to me. The baddest stunt I've pulled has gotta be when I was carrying a package between Buck's Lodge and the Sands. Buck's Lodge is way up poo poo Mountain, so it was entirely downhill all the way to the Sands. Some no-name grinder assholes were camped outside the lodge, I dunno if they were waiting for me specifically or were just looking to jump anyone coming outta there. So I've got these grinders riding my rear end the second I'm on the path, they're all on dirt bikes, and the switchbacks are coming up fast. The Eagle's agile, but I don't like my chances of getting enough separation that they can't mob me on one of the hairpins. I'd noticed something peculiar about the switchbacks on my way up, though. It was time to test my theory. At the mouth of the first grading, instead of turning in, I gunned it straight off. I was right. I managed to get enough air that I sailed straight onto the road 3 curves down. The Eagle's shocks were crying pretty bad after that. Not as much as the grinder who tried to follow me down and missed wide left, though.
|
|
#
?
Oct 5, 2016 08:31
|
|
|
 Specialist Bychkov Fabianna S., The Quarantine Each morning, I wake up, look at my reflection, and just stare, fixated on the idea that what I am is something entirely different than what everyone else sees. That the way I look and act will prevent me from doing the things I want. I touch my face, I feel my skin, I check my appearance every day, and I swear it all feels perfect. But then someone says something and that sense of security and confidence is gone before I know it. And yet, I cannot truly understand the struggles that come with being human in today's world. All I can manage is a crude imitation. I'm no longer human, I lack the knowledge needed to understand the depths, highs and nuances of human emotion that define one. There are no strong feelings in my heart, because to feel strong emotions would also be to deny my true nature. Humans would never see me as one of “them.” If they did try to see me as one of “them” it wasn’t in my true form; it was as a fake, assimilated, apologetic version of myself that accepted the premise that my world and time was gone. It’s hard to explain an eternity of stasis. It has no logic, no good, no evil; You put people in a glass box, and you’ve got a vortex of everybody’s thoughts and wills, and overtime it reflects off onto a person's head, and that person wakes up into madness. I’d probably kill all of you if I could— is that what you’ve been wanting to hear? quote:Name: Specialist Bychkov Fabianna S.
|
|
#
?
Oct 5, 2016 11:53
|
|
|
nws-ish Capfalcon posted:Manteikah, the Battlebabe I might have just dragged off a sled full of trash to fill the fire barrels, and shown back up at Fire-eye's place all tired, job well done. But I was all caked in hot ash to stay warm and wearing my mask. There was a case of mistaken identity, someone thought I was one of the monsters from that kids' story, Goldilocks, so their dumbass kid shot at me. If he'd missed completely, I would have just given them the double-birds behind the back and continued on my merry way. But he hit my stuff, so I turned around, saw they were all out there, lined up weenies on a skewer. Free food. I just had to roast'em. If you break the chain, give up on one opportunity like that, then you'll start to let more pass, then soon you start eating yourself instead, and then you waste away and someone eats you. Why'd I leave Fire-eye's? Things got bland. Never give up free food, yeah, but you also never want to make the best food in a place, you never want to be the smartest guy in the room, and you never want to be the prettiest guy in the bar. You're just like Fire-eye, you know. Ambition is for poo poo. After you're the one on top, there's nowhere to go but down, as Daddy used to say. My ex from over there, liked being called that. Needed to. Point is that was the smartest thing she ever said and that's a bad thing. Never stay down or you'll start to belong. Right now, I'm bored, there's nothing interesting around, so you win my attention by default. Free food. Blandest. You should know I'm doing you a favor just talking to you. But hey, maybe you'll make something of yourself after this, and you can come and thank me. Okay, ash isn't toxic smartass, but I could [She makes a jerk off motion] blow it in your face then have your rear end. Or better yet, make some lye and mmm squirt that in your eye. You go in a sneezing fit when I kick up a cloud and you sniff it. [She throws up a hand and her head moves in a little loop in slight frustration] Why do I hang onto this mask? Spoken like a true three-bagger*. If you ever found a pool of water or, heh, a mirror, you'd know that you look like a week-old corpse. The only reason anyone fucks you over one of those is you're warmer and it's cold out. Just like lookin' good under here, I smell good too. Someone tries to spike my drink, I smell it. Someone spits in the soup, I smell it. Some honey decked out in luxe farts, I smell it, know whether she really eats garbage and stole the dress. My eyes are pretty good too, but Point is, if you cleaned the powder out of blinkers and noz, you'd want to look at pretty things and smell tasty things, instead of not knowing what they were, where they were, or what to do with them, like me. With this mask, I protect my assets. They won't get clogged up and go down. The mask itself is a family heirloom passed from old bitch to young bitch, blessed by my ancestors–no, I took it off a pedestal in a glass box under a spotlight in some ruins–What do you think, dumbfuck? I bent over and picked it up off the ground like everything else. Mmm I'm done. Thinking to myself is more worth my time than this. So, go out and use what I said. Grow up to be worth a drat, little spamlet. Surprise me. *three-bagger: one for your face, one for mine in case yours falls off, and one to vomit into after the fact slydingdoor fucked around with this message at 23:52 on Oct 5, 2016 |
|
#
?
Oct 5, 2016 15:23
|
|
|
Intrigued, definitely want to do some AW awesomeness. Will see what I work up!
|
|
#
?
Oct 5, 2016 16:16
|
|
|
Capfalcon posted:Iggy, the Show The Ratnest fell. VI, that fat prick. And don't think he'd let you get away with pronouncing it wrong either. It was Vee-Eye, and the greasy bluster and threats he'd hurl if you dared something like Vee or Six was as hilarious as it was sad. He liked to put on a veneer of being a legitimate businessman but mostly what he sold was other people. Had a nasty crew and the support of one of the holds back west, the Ratnest. It's pretty much what it sounds like. A fortress built out of a hundred years of scrap and garbage, populated by a hundred years of scrap and garbage. I wasn't even with him for any particular reason except I liked the sunsets out here, and he didn't mind the extra jingle that came in on account of having something like real music for a change. I wasn't especially happy about it, but what can you do? I need food and the Slug needs maintenance. There's all kinds of ways to whore yourself out, and at least this one meant I could keep my pants on if I felt like it. Anyway. So I'm living in this shithole with all these dead eyed morons doing this and that at the beck and call of a bunch of even bigger morons. But the bigger morons have guns and armor and Doghead running the show. Goddamn Doghead. The day I came in with VI she already had her sights set on me. Had her boys rough me up pretty good and haul me into her office. She worked me over pretty well herself and stuck her brand on my rear end, and it's like, drat. Is this what love feels like? You're a sadistic killer with no redeeming value but you are hitting all the right buttons. ...I digress. So I guess with the beatings and the brand and the collar she thought that would be enough to break my spirit but I've always been kind of thick. And this place, whatever else was wrong with it, it was talking to me loud and clear. The Maelstrom was in me like those religious whackos and their Holy Spirit, all talking in tongues and having seizures on the floor. Maybe not that bad, but my blood was burning. There was something devilish and electric brewing in my head and it was going to come out sooner than later. I don't think I was the only one who could feel it either. You could see in people's eyes. A verve that hadn't been there a day ago. An energy building up to something big and explosive and maybe great and maybe horrible but definitely Important. I wound up strangling the guard set to watch me one night and snuck out, heading for high ground. I needed fresh air and to get this music out of my head. It was beautiful and terrifying and if I didn't share it it would kill me. How can I describe it? I can't. I barely even remember it in the real sense. I can tell you how I felt, letting my thoughts and feelings out. Drugs can't match it, sex can't match it, nothing can match it. A timeless period of letting your defenses drop and showing people how you really feel about...anything. Everything. It's catharsis in its purest form. And when the people below me, packed into that lovely warren of filth and latent fury and dying dreams, they felt it too. In those moments Doghead and VI and all their pet idiots with all their guns and armor were swept up and devoured by the monster I let loose. When the sun rose, the Ratnest was free. Its masters dead or vanished. Pretty sure mostly just vanished. Shitheads like that always know when the storm is about to hit. VI was probably gone days prior - he always claimed to be able to smell trouble brewing and I don't think he was lying. Doghead, who knows? I wouldn't mind seeing her again despite all. No doubt she feels the same way but for entirely different reasons. Some people always gotta take things personally. --- The Maelstrom is alive. It has wants and needs just like everyone. It wants people to know when its happy or sad or horny or loving pissed off. The worst thing in the world is to be alone and ignored, right? Even having a price on your head means somebody out there cares. So it needs people like me. People willing to stare into the empty places and raging storms and rotting cesspools of the world and know them, deep down into our souls. To understand it in some way. And to come back to the world and tell people what you saw. To help them understand that this world isn't dead or dying. It's alive, madly flourishing in ways we have to be ready to accept, or stand aside as it moves on without us.
|
|
#
?
Oct 5, 2016 17:24
|
|
|
 Capfalcon posted:Blackthorne, the Chopper quote:Who's the newest member of your gang, and how long they been with you? What'd you make them to prove they deserved to join up? Well he did number one alright, an he dug the Pit, but he went an picked Stovepipe, of all people. Now Stovepipe's a big boy, not the sort ya wanna fight in a hole in the groun'. But the kid picked him, so that was that. We all figgered he wasn't gonna do much but well, he'd went an put that thinker to it, an hell if it didn't see him through. Got tossed round for a bit, yeah, but then he got round behind ol' Stovepipe. Quick as snot he had Stovepipe's arms round his own neck and his legs out from under him. Fight was over few seconds after. Smart kid, that one.
|
|
#
?
Oct 5, 2016 22:50
|
|
|
Capfalcon posted:"Needles" Skip D'wa, the Angel Skip's sense of normal is a bit off compared to where he finds himself now. The idea of eating a bird, or wearing green just seems gross to him. And saying a brief prayer to the moon when you first see it is a reflex. Other parts he left too early to really understand. On the night of the new moon he remembers that everyone would get together, burn poo poo, write the word Haman on their shoes and get drunk and stomp their feet. He's not sure why he does any of this exactly, or what Haman is but he still does it. People give him strange looks, but he shares his booze and plenty of locales will join in now. Skip feels betrayed by his old community, but he misses them still too. He fantasizes sometimes about what he would say to the Reverend or his parents, but he still remembers the confidence with which the Reverend spoke, and the tone of her voice that made you believe that this was someone who really did love you, and know better then you. Mox has potential to be an Angel someday, She's not very smart, but she listens and watches. Most of this poo poo isn't that hard anyway, once you've pulled one rotten tooth out of someones head or bullet from their leg you pretty much know how it goes. She's got good hands and the blood never seems to bother her, and that's more important. Shigusa is smarter and older, but Skip can already tell he has big ambitions. He wants to be in charge someday and everything that goes with it, money, good food, prestige. Skip hopes it doesn't end up getting him killed. Both Mox and Shigusa came Skip's way by means of barter, he delivered Mox's little brother when he was coming out the wrong way and set Mox's dad's broken bones and stiched him up after a bad fight. Neither family had scratch to pay, so their kid's started helping out. Now they stay on in return for the education that he can give, lunch, and a bit of jingle when they go above and beyond.
|
|
#
?
Oct 5, 2016 23:12
|
|
|
Capfalcon posted:Mastiff, the Battlebabe I learned to read from my parents. I was born into a secure holding. A place beneath the reach of the scorching sun. It held more books than people. The elder was renowned as a great wise man in the area. There would be occasional travelers seeking out his advise and incite. But the most important lesson I learned from my family was the last: no hold is secure enough. It was a harsh lesson. I did not accept it for some time. I wandered looking for a new place to settle down, not realizing my place with the winds. That is how I found the cog head. He was squatting in a metal hole not too unlike my birthplace. I figured him for an oddball. He wanted my rags so he would have something that wasn't caked in grease. Along with my club and the books I could carry with me it seemed like a poor trade for him. After all I was able to escape the endless walk. People kill for that. I've killed to not lose it. Of course when I first punctured someone's artery I better understood the old coot's position. It really does never seem to stop flowing out... The most curious person I've met was Whiff. His time, those that prostrate and debase themselves for the favor of others, are common enough. His persistence on planting himself in the security of my shadow was odd and tedious. I had no interest in his services. Feeding myself was demanding enough. And what he offered would do nothing to ease that burden. Before I left the encampment he produced payment for my to carry him on Tib to the next one. I saw no reason to refuse that so I agreed. I would normally fill the trip with reading but Whiff regaled me his thoughts and life to ease his own boredom. He claimed that survival was not enough. Comfort was what made life worth living. Water and gruel could keep a man alive, but did nothing to make him interested in keeping that arrangement. He claimed I was in dire needing of recharging my soul. When I was done rolling my eyes he produced a curio I hadn't seen before. A glass gar filled with a solid mass with a queer color. He opened the jar and invited me to sniff it. I nearly fell off Tib it was so strong. In exchange for the candle I escorted him for a bit longer. Well much longer I guess. He was very attached to all of them. But he like the cog head thought I value what I have more than what I want. Time is something I have plenty of. Since I've put my idle thoughts to how I might find my own comfort so that I do not have to force myself to get up in the morning. I've decided I take comfort in my skill. Proving myself has it's own satisfaction. And I need not worry because I know that getting what I want is always just a matter of time. These facts will remain true if I persist in improving myself and my gear. My favorite book that doesn't involve fighting? It's a pretty fantastic story. A man is on a flying machine but it crashes in a huge body of water. He's stuck in this strange land where the trees are so dense they block your vision. He has to burn parts of the trees to create heat because the wind is so cold. I struggle to imagine such a world even after reading it so many times.
|
|
#
?
Oct 6, 2016 00:53
|
|
|
 Eye, the News quote:You've stepped on plenty of toes, I'm sure, but who's the last person you helped with your broadcast? Specificly helped, outside of the general idea that the Truth can set you free? The thing is, Junge the Death-eater nevers misses one of my shows, and he’s taken a shine to me. When I got out of the doc’s a few days later, Carebear told me that she found three Shur’ffs’ heads on her doorstep, and there were reports of fires from their compound. She ain’t had trouble since. I mean, I was hoping to open folks’ eyes to the plight of the Margin-folk and build a willingness to work together against the jerks in the Deads, but I’ll settle for pointing a psycho at the enemies of my friends. quote:What's important enough for you to Lie about? quote:Would you EVER Lie on air?
|
|
#
?
Oct 6, 2016 01:33
|
|
|
Capfalcon posted:You may not have solid memories of the times before you can remember, but you do have dreams. What's the most horrifying dream you've had? It was a dream about me being far out into the wastes. Way over the horizon, further then anyone could get. I was in...some sort of settlement? Town maybe? I don't know. The pressing issue was that there were things after me. I don't know what they were or what they wanted, but I couldn't stop them from coming. I barely remember what they are, but I know they were smart - probably as smart as actual people. Maybe they were people, and it's just being a dream made them look that way. I don't know, I wasn't thinking about it at the moment. I knew I wanted to escape, but in the end they came down on me. Before anything happened...I woke up. The worst part is that it didn't feel like just a dream. It felt like a memory. I've never come across anything like whatever those things I dreamed about in real life though. Maybe it was a gently caress up of a dream and memory colliding into each other - maybe I had been in a situation where I was trying to escape people and the dreams turned them into grotesque monsters. Who knows? Nothing like it has happened yet, so I don't worry about it right now. Got some other problems to deal with and think on at the moment. Capfalcon posted:What's your best guess as to how your got your skills? It feels like most of it was innate. Like something you just know you're good at, when you finally discover it. But between just how good I am, and this armor, it feels like some training or experience must have entered the equation. I mean, I have taken things from other people but this armor fits very well. It's possible it's just yet another item I picked up over the years but I doubt it. Honestly though? It's not something I worry too much about. This skill is my skill, it's how I make things better, it's how I keep a good life. How I got it no longer matters. What matters is what I use it for.
|
|
#
?
Oct 6, 2016 03:58
|
|
|
Guy, the Maestro d' Stats: Cool=0 Hard+1 Hot+2 Sharp+1 Weird-1 Look: Man, Butcher Wear, Expressive Face, Cool Eyes, Restless Body, Precise Hands. Moves: You call this hot? when you do something under fire, roll+hot instead of roll+cool. Just give me a motive: name somebody who might conceivably eat, drink, or otherwise ingest something you’ve touched. If it’s an NPC, roll+hard; a PC, roll+Hx. On a 10+, they do, and suffer 4-harm (ap) sometime during the next 24 hours. On a 7-9, it’s 2-harm (ap). On a miss, some several people of the MC’s choice, maybe including your guy maybe not, get it, and all suffer 3-harm (ap). Gear: mondo kitchen knife (2-harm hand) oddments worth 2-barter fashion granting 1-armor (thick butcher's vest) Establishment: Hashtag - Main attraction: scene (see and be) - Lube: easy food - Lube: art - Atmosphere: velvet, intrigue, intimacy - Cast & Crew: -- Regulars: Keeler, Alomar (best), Groil (Worst), Ecop, Frastraum. -- Angles: Tob wants in on what I've got going on, I owe Blish for it, and Jackabacka wants it fuckin' gone. - Security: -- Bouncer who knows her biz: C.B. (2-harm 1-armor) -- a warren of dead-ends, hideaways & boltholes quote:You want to be someone out here? That's noble. Takes a lot of effort and grit and no loving around to make it in this world. Trust me, I know. But you really want to be someone? Then you gotta come see me. Everyone who's anyone has been through here. Some people use that to their advantage. Some people don't like it. That's their problem. Free advice: don't make it your problem.
|
|
#
?
Oct 6, 2016 04:13
|
|
|
"Kicks", the Oilbearer Ahhh! *breaths deeply* Another horrible morning on this god forsaken rock. Who could ask for more? Oh! And it looks like we have our first catch of the day rolling up now! Barkso! Power up the force wench and get the elevators running! We’ve got folks to feed!  …. Welcome! Welcome! You’re new to Horizon, right? Thought so. Only working oil station in a hundred kliks I’m afraid. Oh no don’t look so down. It’s not so bad. You’z just got to keep perspective on the whole thing, right? Just keep the goals sight-wise. Just put those big an’ grand notions about why the world is shite and what we should do about it and leave’em on the ground there. That’s right. Horizon’s about lookin at tomorrow, cause that’s all we got now, dig? Yessiree, now if you’ll just leave your pieces and clubby and pointy bits with the gateman here we’ll start workin on getting you that beautiful black liquid you need. No, no, no need to pay. There’s enough here to go round for everyone. You got some buckets or barrels? You’re guzzlers gonna be in a pinch if you’re just goin’ off its tank. ‘Fraid theres not much help past us friends. And we are friends right? Any donations you could put our way would help, but really, I’d just like to hear where your off to in this blasted land. Hmm? What’s that? You’re after the Grey Vultures? Now, I know those boys aren’t the nicest folk, and word on the wire is that they are stopping here in a day or two but it looks like you already know that, hmm? I’m sorry to say, boyo, that unless you plan on dealin with ‘em, you an’ your lot are gonna need to push off after you get’yur fuel. No proper scraps are allowed on or near Horizon. You wanna talk, that’s fine, Horizon’s about a better tomorrow, but otherwise them’s the rules. …Now, Boyo, I’m only gonna say this once. ‘Cause you and your friends are new and I’m sweet on a pretty face. Put your piece away and leave once you're topped off. No one starts trouble here. For good reason. I don’t play with none of them chopper packs and ‘hold nutters but I give the black water freely, an’ I’m the only one who can keep ‘er flowin. So when I say everyone plays nice, it’s not because I don’t have a gun. It’s because everyone on these badlands is holdin my gun for me. There ya are! Pleasure meetin’ ya! Good luck with them Grey boys! Watch out for old Snaggletooth, he’s a mean one! Cheers! quote:The Kid Blink fucked around with this message at 06:12 on Oct 8, 2016 |
|
#
?
Oct 6, 2016 10:31
|
|
|
Horizon's got the oil. Slurry's got the marketplace. Me? I've got the booze. Everybody needs a watering hole, and mine's the place to be. We're right on the road out of Slurry, towards Horizon, which means we're a great stop for the caravans in and out. People always used to gather around this old factory - I was the one who came in and made it what it is today. I remind them of civilization when they might have forgotten, and give them a memory to keep with them as they leave it. That's what some other places miss. Anybody with three brain cells and some good scrounging can build a still and get some lovely moonshine. I put in more effort. We've got spirits, we've got beers, and for the right customer, I'll track down that special bottle of pre-Maelstrom wine they want for a special occasion. Oh, it won't cost that much...but I'm sure they'll be more receptive to any special requests I have in the future. Throw in some shows and food atop of that, and the Eye of the Storm's the place to be! Maestro D' posted:
Eye of the Storm posted:
Platonicsolid fucked around with this message at 17:57 on Oct 9, 2016 |
|
#
?
Oct 6, 2016 20:59
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 28, 2024 12:57 |
|
|
 Jim X The News “I don't want to hurt people. I just want to make them hurt, you know? That's the only way we'll see peace.” [WIP] quote:Name quote:Studio UnCO3 fucked around with this message at 12:03 on Oct 7, 2016 |
|
#
?
Oct 7, 2016 01:31
|
|