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 The horses, sick of your poo poo, dump the cart (and the six of you) off in the dust and proceed to gallop on their way. You find yourself dumped out in a makeshift truck stop, a few huge tyre bound semis parked up all over the place along the pounded flat dust track.  Unless the horses got something wrong, this would have to be the meeting point for the job. Right? Not that there was much in the way of anybody around. The dirt and shrubs left very little to the imagination, and if the huge engines and cargo containers weren’t here odds are it’d be utterly barren. The dirt goat path they came in on just lead back into Melbourne, which loomed large on the horizon. Not large like Seattle, maybe, but more the fact it was the only thing around that stuck up high against the flat plains. Far in the distance beyond the truck stop are some mountain ranges, but they’re even further out than the city was behind them. It seemed a few of the drivers were milling about, at least, one or two buried under their trucks attending to routine maintenance. A must if you are to traverse the Australian interior. One is scraping some sort of bloody mass of meat from the grills of his machine. If one were a biologist specialising in Australian animals then perhaps the ragged bits of fur sticking out of the demolished meat would be enough to tell you what exactly got hit, but alas. One ork is sitting on his bonnet close by where the six of you got dumped, reading an actual physical paper newspaper. Not letting such a commotion interrupt him, he takes a couple minutes to finish reading the back sports page before wrapping the paper up and hopping down off his truck.  “G’day mates.” He welcomes the six of you with a cheery, too wide grin. He didn’t have any obvious augments, seeming quite the ordinary ork. “So youse must be the mob that signed up for me milk run, yeah?” He wisely surmises, eyeing you all up and down. Though by the way his gaze vey much lingers over Full Stop odds are it was for something other than assessing your capabilities. Behind him, presumably, is his truck. It had armour and guns, even without being natives it seems to suggest that where ever this truck goes that it gets a little troublesome. It already looked hooked up to a container, presumably whatever goods that were ready to transport. Without knowing what it was, there can only be educated guesses. Whatever it was, it smells very farmy. And it sounds very moo-y.  In your first posts include your sheets, and like it’s probably a good idea to keep track of edge and plot points under your name or something up the top? Don’t really mind where but it’s easier to keep track. Once we check in from everybody we’ll kick off proper. [link to recruit thread] Robodog fucked around with this message at 21:45 on Aug 4, 2017 |
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Aug 4, 2017 12:36
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"Cows, yeah." The ork nods like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Can't take milk milk out this way, whole bloody lot spoils before ya get outta the state!" He grins and chuckles to himself. These yuppies didn't know a single thing about milk! He looks to Wrangler Hax "What? The paper?" The man looks back at his reading material. "poo poo yeah, how else you gunna see if ya nag's won?" The ork has to shake his head. Figures that metropolitan types couldn't tell their heads from their tails. Oh well, as long as they can get the job done! "Uh, yeah. You can do that, love." The ork winks, keeping his eyes on Full Stop the whole was as she walks towards the truck to check out the armaments. Trotting around to check the back, a very sceptical Jinx decides to check out the passengers herself. After all, why trust this guy? They just met, and this could all be some clever trick to bring people out to the middle of nowhere and kill them and eat them. There were trids about maniacs like that all over the place! Peering through the heavily welded up grating that covered the rear of the bus-turned-shipping container, it's difficult to really make out any distinct shapes. It's clear the bus seats had all been removed to maximise room for the cargo. But despite the streaming daylight flooding into the trailer it was so jammed full that making anything out was hard. That was, until one of them head-butts the back door and jams its face against the grating.  "Pay?" The ork turns on his heels to Monster. "Well, it's ten thousand each way. So that's twenty for ending up back here." He kicks the dirt as if marking the exact point they should end back at. "But after coverin' costs, fuel, and me cut you lot are gunna get four each way. Yeah?" He pauses for a moment. "One'a you lot can drive, yeah?"
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Aug 5, 2017 07:41
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But what was a Quokka doing all the way out here? And showing itself right now? Exactly why a blessed Quokka appeared here would have to remain a mystery to you all for now, as the little fella runs off and disappears just as quickly as it had poked it's little head out. This wasn't a leisurely animal spotting tour, though! It was time to get this milk run underway. With everyone aboard, the ork gives the cab a solid thunk with his meaty fist and gives the truck a single wave. "Alright, mates. See ya back 'ere in a couple days." He leaves you with, quite lackadaisical with the fate of his dairy cargo. But no doubt he was relieved that for once this long, arduous journey was not resting on his shoulders. That the fate of all those cows was safely outsourced to professionals like this. Given the all clear by their ork employer, and the hurry up by Monster, Wangler Hax puts his in-depth knowledge about beaten up old desert trucks into practise and starts 'er up. The roar of the engine could easily be mistaken for that of a light tank. Given that nobody really knew how this truck was hammered together it could very well be the engine out of a light tank for all they knew. But in his esteemed view, Hax reckoned there should be more than enough power to drag these cows to where they needed to go. He pulls out and starts the truck on its way, staring down a seemingly endless dirt road.  It doesn't take long before all signs of civilisation are left behind. Sand and dirt are in front of them, and sand and dirt are left behind in their wake. No other trucks are on the road with them, and no native wildlife can be seen hopping alongside the dirt highway. It looked like it was going to be up to these intrepid 'runners to entertain themselves on this long, bone dry, sandy, cowy drive. Redline, not driving, has to do the next best thing and annoy the driver by fiddling with the radio. The console is decidedly retro, with nothing more than a dial and a couple knobs. Flicking through the radio, there seems to only be two stations that they can pick up. One with rock and one with country. Whether this counted as actual music would have to be up to Redline to decide. Somewhere along the way of fiddling with the radio, something comes loose and flutters down. A piece of paper? As Hax was busy driving, it turned to Redline to examine what it was. In seemed that in lieu of any sort of satellite navigation, the ork has provided you with an old fashioned map to guide you lot along for the delivery.  …a very hastily drawn, vaguely accurate map torn out of the middle of his newspaper. While both able drivers, neither Wrangler Hax or Redline were map experts. Or Australia experts. So just how helpful this map would end up being was up for debate. Really, where the hell were you two even going? Up on top of the trailer, the other four don't have to worry themselves with such problems. So far there was nothing on the horizon that could be considered dangerous. Maybe this would be a milk run after all? In the traditional sense of the word, not the backwards Australian way. The only real issue so far was the huge amount of dust being kicked up at them, reducing visibility to all those with real eyes and no goggles to sweet bugger all.
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Aug 11, 2017 07:52
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The radio continues to assault delicate ear with native Australian tunes. After a litany of nonsensical hard OzRock, the radio decides to start playing some sort of anti-corp protest song? In any other part of the world, the civilised world, there would be little doubt that such a band would itself have corp backing. But out here in Oz? Odds were that it was all genuine. For a few more hours, the truck and cargo trundles on. The further away from Melbourne they drive, it seemed, the rougher the dirt road got. Big hauling trucks like these were probably the only traffic these roads ever got, and they hadn't seen anything coming from the other direction yet. Or anything else coming up from behind. Not enough weight and not frequent enough to pound the dirt flat, leaving the ride ahead not quite as comfortable as it was earlier. Wrangler Hax and Redline weren't feeling it too bad in the cab, which seemed like it still had some form of suspension, but the cows in the back and team out on top were not having as easy a time of it. The sun, low in the sky, was so slightly beginning to dim behind the dark storm clouds. Nothing like a desert when it rains, they say. But such things are usually enjoyed from far away, not in the middle of it. The sudden slick, muddy roads were not what the driver was expecting. Hax finds it difficult to keep the truck going in a straight line! The truck swung to the left, and as Hax kicked it right a deadly snake began to form behind him. The kind you get from a trailer rocking side to side, not an actual deadly snake. Though if they stopped or crashed for any reason, it was almost certain that a deadly snake would come and eat them in no time at all. Underneath Full Stop, Jinx and Joanna the bus trailer starts to sway violently. Then moo in surprise and displeasure. Then throw them violently side to side. If anybody had been on a buck bronco, this is what it felt like, But worse, because the dust and sand was still kicking up and making it hard to see what the hell was even going on. But if people didn't grab on to something then it might only be a couple seconds before they get throw over! Lia had made the smart choice to ask to be let in the far more comfortable cabin. Normally, it would be a good move. But just as she hammered on the passenger side door, the cab loses traction and starts to slide. Monster is tossed out and around and slams into the windshield. The only things keeping the rain/dust/sand/mud out shatters like the cheap glass it apparently was. Okay now it's time for turns and narrations!!! This poo poo is basically like normal PbP play. You can post in any order and at any time you want if it is just chit-chatting or narrative opinion or internal monologue or shitposting. BUT if you want to post a real honest to god action that needs a roll or anything that needs the GM to resolve then you gotta do in the table sitting order that we mostly made up. This is called a NARRATION. Each action gets rolled and resolved in the narration and then it moves on to the next person in line to roll or do something. You can spend one or multiple PLOT POINTS during narration, both during your own turn and during somebody else's turn. I really don't get that but hey, if you really want to gently caress over somebody else the game provides. Specific to narration, a plot point can be spent on changing the turn order by making a Narration and taking actions when it isn’t your normal turn. Order is: Axe-Man PS Gnoll MMA Megane
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Aug 12, 2017 13:04
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The truck shudders as the transmission downshifts suddenly, the engine revving turning into high pitched screeching. This only angers the cows more. The lower gear and not flooring the accelerator helps to calm the truck down and it straightens out enough to not threaten a jackknife. But the truck still has tonnes of momentum behind it and is flying over wet and muddy roads at speeds one can only describe as 'oh my god this is way the gently caress too fast!'.
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Aug 12, 2017 17:33
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yo gnoll when rolling pure attribute it's ATT+ATT so you need to roll 12d6t5 not 6d6t5 PLZ roll again!!!
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Aug 17, 2017 06:08
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Up on top of all the cows, Jinx and Full Stop both use what nature and science gave them and hold on with the strength of several weaker men (like maybe four and a half Haxes). Massive hands grab on to whatever is bolted and welded down to the trailer proper, desperate strength twisting the metal within their grasp. But whatever may come, be it the rain pounding down on top of them, the mud kicked up by slipping tyres, or the wild bucking of the truck as it skids along the track, the two manage to hang on and stay safe from being hurled over the side. Deftly avoiding the cow crush like she had avoided many a wandering old rich hand groping around her skirt before, Joanna leaps over the bovine crowd and hooks her chrome legs over the lip of the trailer. She is left hanging outside the truck, but sandwiched between the cab and the cows precious little rain hits her. She is left in peace to figure out exactly how this ancient, jimmy rigged tuck was hammered together and where the emergency break was at. And when she is reasonably sure she has found it, years of expertise of spotting out the true valuable amongst junk imitations paying off, she yanks on it as hard as she can. The wheels on the trailer freeze up and dig into the muddy dirt track, slamming the truck cab back with it. Wrangler and Redline both get thrown back hard against the chairs, and Monster just gets tossed about back into Redline for a second time. The whole thing almost goes tipping over on its side as the engine and the breaks work against each other, the rain and the mud only adding to the beautiful chaos. But the front tyres on the trailer finally dig in too deep, and the whole thing finally comes to a crashing halt as the front end ends up over a foot deep in mud. This is more than what the poorly welded attachment rig can hold, and sees the engined powered cab at the front break free of the trailer and slow to a skidding stop two dozen feet from the now embedded trailer. The rain continues to fall heavily, and the cows moo in deep discontent. Truck stopped guys, way to go! You all get one (1) karma point! Narration over, free talk time while you sort this situation out a little bit!
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Aug 19, 2017 09:00
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The cows continue to moo aggressively, unhappy at being tossed around like that. Thankfully, the trailer is far too stuck in the mud for their angry shuffling to rock it. The rain above seems to start breaking, the heavy beating raindrops replaced with a lighter shower that covers everything in a vague mist. Looks like the typhoon weather was heading the same direction the truck was heading, and you ended up chasing the storm.
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Aug 22, 2017 04:00
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With a fantastic and flawless plan, all the remained was to get it going. Preferably before the cannibal mutants start looking for lunch. I reckon driving the cab clear is probably your standard driving check, unless somebody has a wild idea. And deadlifting the trailer you can go strength+athletics or strength+strength. Probably the former. Also if anybody else wants to contribute somehow, go for it! Not going to bother with the turn thing since this doesn't really have anything depending on turn order.
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Aug 26, 2017 04:41
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The trailer was going nowhere at this rate. And the engine wasn't turning over or anything, so nothing was going to be getting free of the mud here. It takes one extraordinary person to grab things by the balls and see that poo poo gets done. And Monster is just that person. No longer content to let self ascribed 'experts' deal with it, Monster settles into Redline's lap and puts the pedal to the floor. A tidal wave of mud and dust is kicked up, spraying up every which way. It probably isn't the best way for Full Stop and Jinx to get the signal to start lifting the trailer, but it does the job. For everybody else, supposedly on lookout duty in case of mutant attack, it probably does little but make things that much harder. But if the dibbles of rain weren't already obscuring the view, then a little more mud and dust wasn't going to hurt things all that much. As far as Hax and Joanna can see, there was nothing jumping up from the wastes to descend upon and eat them. Yet. So Jinx got 3 hits, just need the roll from Full Stop and we will see if the trailer is hooked up or if the cab just rammed right into the cows! Robodog fucked around with this message at 04:40 on Sep 3, 2017 |
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Sep 3, 2017 04:00
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Between the two muscled amazons, the trailer creaks and moos and lifts off the mud. The cab dutifully slams backwards into the trailer and there is, after the sound of metal crashing into metal, the telltale *click* of a socket and latch fastening together. Looks like they were hooked back up! 2+3=5 successes! Works for me! With a triumphant toot of the trucks airhorn, everybody climbs back onboard and with an unsteady skid along the mud the truck starts off again. ~ The final light dies with surprising speed, the transition from afternoon to night taking but a few minutes. Thankfully the light was used wisely on fixing the truck, and the junker somehow did have working headlights. Or, more correctly, one single headlight welded on the grille. But it was ungodly bright, lighting up the dirt road in front of them for a clear fifty metres or more. On the one hand, it was reassuring to be able to see so far and so clearly on such a backwards road. On the other, it seemed to indicate that the night was such a danger that the only safe way to be out in it was with such a terribly bright light. If that were the case at least, there seemed to be no mutant bandits or native wildlife on the road so far. At some point during the night, the last fuzzy pings of the terrible local music radio stations cease to be received. The team were finally too far out to pick up anything on the radio now. In a way, it was only now that they were totally alone. In another way, at least nobody had to listen to that utter shite Australian excuse for music anymore. On the whole, it was probably a win. Hours pass by and nothing seems to happen. The night continues to be dark, the desert continues to be freezing cold, and the and around them is still utterly barren of life and scenery. The rain had stopped some time ago, leaving only drenched and muddy clothes to be battered by cold desert sand and wind. (And mildly dented, in the case of Full Stop's armour). Not exactly comfortable for those who were riding on top. But besides the pun, this could just turn out to be something of a milk run after all. A long, dull, pain in the rear end one but not like they had been blown up yet or shot at anything. They hadn't even been attacked by a croc! Oz wasn't living up to its reputation. The sun peaks over the horizon and floods the desert with a pale orange glow. They had driven through the night with no troubles bothering them. But almost to the very second that the sun had broken, a sudden burst of static comes over the radio. "Oi!" A quite muffled and crowded out by audio crackle voice seems to blurt out at them over the radio. "Oi! Yeah, youse cunts the ones in that bloody truck? T'gently caress you doin' here?" The staticy male voice seems a mite bit angry.
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Sep 6, 2017 09:21
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There is a rather hearty laugh from the angry man over the radio. "Mate, we've got the road mined for the next ten kays. If you don't settle the gently caress down the only thing that'll be swiss out 'ere is you mob." He seems content to let that sink in for a little bit before continuing. "Now, stop playing silly bugger with the dairy jokes an' tell me what the gently caress are you lot doing here? The gently caress you really doin'."
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Sep 7, 2017 14:09
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Without rain to make the dirt road an outright hazard, slowing the truck down to a gentle stop manages to this time not break anything. Or maybe Monster was secretly the best driver in the crew. There are a few faint moos of discomfort as the cows are shaken awake from their beauty sleep. But it probably beats being hit by a mine. Looking out the busted windshield, Monster wasn't quite sure if there were any or not. But she was hardly in the best position to question that. The radio contact takes a few moments to reply. "…actual cows? Fucken what?" He genuinely seems confused at the insistence that they were hauling livestock. "Has to be the dumbest poo poo I've ever fucken heard here, mate." One gets the feeling that, were this is person, this guy would be shaking his head and kicking the lot of you out of his sight. "Town on the… you buggers mean Perth? loving seppos…" The radio goes dead for a very disconcerting five minutes. That's a lot of time to be sitting out in the open like this, more or less paint a huge target on themselves. But it was either this, or try some luck driving into a minefield. "Alright. Nobody gets t' Perth without gettin' through us. And frankly, y'sound too fucken stupid to be makin' any of this poo poo up." The voice suddenly concludes, the radio cracking back to life. "We're sending an outrider, don't do poo poo 'till it gets t'ya and keep any guns out of your bloody hands when we get there. We'll bring you in." The man orders. "Then we can look at whatever bullshit cows y'got." Full Stop has the luck of having about three metres of elevation on an otherwise totally flat landscape. With her scope, she can see for miles around. The only thing stopping her was the low-lying sun, it was just at the right angle to screw up her attempts to scope out the east. But, thankfully, she doesn't reckon there is much out there to see anyway. To the east there was something that looking like a mob of kangaroos, lazily hopping their way across the barren desert. Either towards or away from something, the Austrian was no expert on these things. The west and south looked totally empty, the occasional swirl of sand getting kicked up being able all she can see. Ahead of them, she suspects the call out of mines was accurate. It looked like for a mile or more ahead something had disturbed the road. Dug it up or similar, though the rain and the winds form the last night covered it up well. It's only her scope and practised eyes that pick out the roundish patterns that are staggered along the road. And from the north? She can see a truck incoming on their position. 
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Sep 13, 2017 06:46
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Unlike the truck and attached cows, the approaching vehicle seems made for racing across the sands. In next to no time it has closed the distance and pulled up about ten or so metres out from the truck and cargo. There looks to be at least two people on the outrider, one in the drivers seat and one in the back manning a large-calibre gun of some kind, but they were anybody else they were staying unseen inside the vehicle. If it did come down to a shootout, it looked on the surface to be in your favour. Both the driver and gunner were totally obscured, covered in dark rags and thick goggles presumably to guard against the desert because they were utterly covered in dust and sand. There is a loud screeching as a loudhailer powers up from the other car. "You the lot with them moo-moos?" A lackadaisical male voice asks rhetorically over the speaker. "Now, just t'warn youse. Any funny gently caress try t'touch a gun an' Plugger there will light ya up light a Christmas tree." The driver seems to make a rough gesture behind him, presumably to the gunner at the rear. "An' with that outta the way, follow us." He instructs, the outrider turning around in a large circle and heading back the way it came. "Keep close behind, yeah? Mines'll turn back on after us an' I'm bettin' none of youse wanna go drivin' through them." He chuckles out, the hailer squealing again as it powers off and the truck leads you towards their base. It seems unlikely that, on their own, anybody would find this place. For one, it is off the main dirt road. Which seemed to be heavily guarded and mined so anybody just driving along it assuming it went somewhere would probably just explode at some point. So in a way, you are all quite lucky you got picked up and shown the way like this. The escort says nothing else along the journey, which is shorter than one might expect. But it was probably a matter of knowing where you were going over just a sheer tyranny of distance.  It has to be said, this looked like a junkyard. The walls were cobbled together with old chainlink and junk, and burnt-out wrecks littered the outskirts. Many of them looked relatively recent, and the smell of burning diesel was as heavy on the air as dirt and the sand were. As you follow the escort into the base proper, perimeter guards seemed thin. But they managed to spot the truck, you, and the cows all the way out there so there had to be more to this than just what the shabby appearances implied. The road passes in-front of the main compound building, and the escort vehicle stops. The loudhailer screeches on again. "End of the line, mates. Kill that engine, thanks." He says, as a couple of guards approach the truck. These guards, unlike the ramshackle surrounds and those in the outrider, looked well equiped and relatively clean despite the constant sand and their hodgepodge outpost. Though they all have weapons, some perhaps local make of assault rifle, they were kept lazily at the sides. Nothing so far seemed overly hostile.  "Alright. You the buggers with the cows?" The lead guard asks, kicking the trailer with the cows in it. From his voice, it seemed this was the man that Monster was talking with over the radio. Or somebody who sounded pretty drat close to him, at any rate. "We're Perth Customs. Nothin' gets in or out of the city without us clearin' it first. I assume whoever the gently caress sent a truck full of bloody Yanks this way didn't bother to say poo poo about that t'ya all?" Even with most of his features obscured by his helmet and goggles, you can tell he already hates having to deal with this poo poo today. "Okay, well we gotta check the cargo. So open up t'back and let's see the cows." He sighs. He fellow guard seems more preoccupied with making sure all of you stay in line and don't try to pull any fast ones. But her eyes stop when she hits upon Jinx. "Fucken hell, you're a big bitch." Her keen eyes observe. "Your mum muck about with a troll or what?"
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Sep 22, 2017 18:15
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The guard smirks at Jinx's plain reply. "Heh. Midwest, huh? Sounds like my kinda place." She turns her attention to the head guard, who sounded like he was the man on the radio earlier. "Permission to visit the Midwest for a study tour, colonel?" He doesn't seem to really be in a chirpy mood. Even through his mask and helmet, you can all here him sigh heavily. "Hell no. Do you even know where the Midwest is? UCAS?" Before there is a chance to reply, he waves a hand. "Fucken forget it, just shut up." Having come from a military background herself, Full Stop had something of an eye for picking out fellow soldiers. Even if they were not wearing a proper uniform, or in this case saying they were just custom officers. Judging from the way this guard was talking, they were in rank even if they were somewhat lax about traditional military discipline and respect for the chain of command. That could just be chalked up to the fact that they were out on the frontier with basically next to nothing around them, and whatever superiors being possibly a couple thousand miles away. But there was a way that these two held themselves that said to her 'military'. Guns at the ready but finger discipline held. Uniforms dusted up and scruffy from the sun and desert, but still kept in relatively neat and clean condition. Posture seemed ready to fall into action at the drop of a hat. Also, calling the head guard just before 'colonel'. No raider worth their salt would rank themselves a colonel. Captain, sergeant, general maybe sure. But colonel? It didn't sound good, nobody is going to be frightened or intimidated by colonel anything. With Jo and Lia giving assurances that they were just hauling walking beef, the man in charge shrugs. "Yeah, figured. Even if all this crap is above board, you're gonna have a shedload of paperwork t'do t'move anything like this into Perth proper." He shakes his head at the mounting workload that just dropped on his lap. "I bet you don't even got a point of origin declaration, do you? Have'ta check against the god drat digital brand database to make sure they're not rustled. Have better things t'do then look after cows today, you bloody arseholes." After a moment, he claps his fellow guard on the shoulder and turns around. "What's that, corporal? Volunteering for cow duty? Good on ya." Dutifully kicking poo poo downhill, he starts to head back into the compound. "What? Fuckin' drat it." She seems to know just how futile it is to get out of the job, so with a sigh she leaves her gun dangling on the shoulder strap and nods to Jinx. "Alright then, Midwest. Open up. Let's see those cows." Bit slow, deadlines and killer migraines are a bit of a bad combo. But let's kick things into spicy!
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Oct 5, 2017 00:07
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Dutifully, Jinx cracks open the rusty handle and throws open the trailer door for the guard to inspect their cargo. Was it just cows? Fresh dairy waiting to get milked? Beef just standing there waiting to get made into steaks? Were they actually hauling drugs disguised in weird cow shaped boxes or something? Jinx sure as hell didn't know, because as soon as she freed the lock and opened the trailer up the cows all together freaked the gently caress out and charged towards their freedom. hey gnoll, gimmie a STR+STR test to avoid getting flattened by a stampede!
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Oct 6, 2017 06:37
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Being Australian, these cows have probably seen some real poo poo. But they've never had to come up against a troll sized elf before. As the herd rams into Jinx, Jinx pushes back. And somehow holds her own, solo against the entire trailer full of freaked out cows. Probably wasn't a conventional measure of strength, but it looked pretty drat impressive. "Bugger me." The guard, staying well out of the way, seems a little in awe at the cow wrangling skills put on display. "Um, poo poo! Close the bloody doors before they run off!" She gets on top of the situation, shouting at you all (except Jinx, obviously, she was already doing her part) as she dashes to one side of the trailer. She slams her whole body against the door to try and close it. But it was pretty clear that the guard wasn't quite as strong as Jinx.
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Oct 6, 2017 07:43
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Turns out the troll was exactly what the recipe needed. Throwing her bulk into the mix, Full Stop pushes back against the bovine hoard and the checkpoint guard manages to close and lock the door. But the cows, having had a taste of freedom, are unrelenting. They keep charging against the trailer door. And the trailer was not the most sturdy thing ever hammered together out of scrap, and before long the door was beginning to buckle. The guard doesn't seem too impressed, and she goes for her gun. "Bloody hell!" She looks between to two hulking runners. "Well!? If they break out we're going to have bloody bedlam here! Sort it out!" She orders them, or somebody else, really anybody at all to get this poo poo locked down already. "Either you calm those bastards down or I'm puttin' them down, got it?" Because it is a cool thing to do and it punctuates her point, she cocks her gun. "Think I give a poo poo about whatever bloke paid you for this poo poo? Not havin' a bunch of crazy drat cows running free!" She drops her ultimatum.
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Oct 12, 2017 17:24
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Raven and Quokka could not be more different. The trickster Raven is to be respected, but never trusted. Quokka might never get much respect, but could be trusted with your life. Evidently, Quokka hadn't had much experience with cows before. Once upon a time Raven might have clipped Lia around the ear and remonstrated that no you idiot, this is a cow what on earth are you even trying to do here. But dear sweet Quokka had no such compunctions, and in the native 'Larrikin' tongue would simply encourage Monster to give her a go, and she'll be right. "Huh." The guard watches on as with nothing more than stern words and a harsh stare the cows are settled down. Of course, the Aussie guard probably had no idea that Monster had mental powers enough to mind control people (and apparently bovines). She didn't pry into means, though. The results spoke for themselves. "Well. Good on 'ya." She gives Lia a short nod of appreciation, relaxing her hands off her gun. "Alright. I'll get the import forms, then." She leaves the group to their own devices, turning her back to quickly run to the central building where all the precious admin papers are. Afraid that losing line of sight might unsettle the cows, Monster stays hanging in the window all the while. Staring at the cows. Making sure that they all settled themselves down, laying down and becoming one with the calm vibe one of the Quokka exudes. All except one. The single recalcitrant cow stands defiantly in the middle of the bus, looming tall over the other cows of the herd who were now all sitting the gently caress down like Monster told them to. But wedged into the window, staring over the herd, Monster is in prime position to figure out what made this cow defy her mental instructions. Like how it was just standing rigidly still and wasn't actually moving in any appreciable way at all. Or that it wasn't actually really shaped liked the other cows. Or the skin looked a bit like it was painted on in something of a hurry. And that it was bolted to the floor and didn't have legs or feet or anything like that. Lia had found the fake cow hidden amongst the real cows.
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Oct 28, 2017 23:22
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Probably the customs guard who asked for the paperwork to be done and poo poo. Con if you want to try to bullshit the paperwork all or negotiation if you want to try to legit fill out paperwork. You'll need to beat the opposed roll of the guards cha+cha.
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Nov 11, 2017 02:57
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While the cab was full of broken glass, sand, dust, assorted junk, a bit of dried blood and actual garbage; Jo's trained eyes are able to discard the useless debris and only notice the important stuff. An official looking transport license jammed in one of the half broken off sun visor. A couple of scrunched up papers in the glovebox that are filled in with most of the registration info for the truck, or at least a truck. An old, beaten up manual crammed under the drivers seat. It probably wasn't ideal, but Jo had ripped off harder marks than this with less stuff before. The office the guard leads Joanna into is less a prim and proper, cutting edge open floor plan and more just a heavy metal desk sitting off to the side of an open warehouse packed with crates. Emptied trailers are rather haphazardly dumped towards the back of the warehouse, with a few trailer still hooked up to their cabs waiting to get unloaded nearer the front. It certainly made this whole place seem like a a somewhat busy customs station, not even Australian bandits would just stack all the gear they've stolen up on top of each other for easy shipping and inspection like this. The guard snatches the pile of files from Jo's hand. "Aight, I'll get these in th' system and you fill these out." With her other hand she dumps a battered looking tablet in front of Jo. Just a few fields she had to fill in, name of driver, name of operator slash owner, cargo details and similar. And all signed off with a biometric thumbprint. "Starting to get less and less of you guys through here, ya know." The guard says by way of small talk, not looking up from her beat to poo poo console. "Last year or so, people been getting real friendly with these new auto trucks. Do it all on their own, send us the data when they pull up t'get unloaded. Way of the future, huh?" She points over at the auto truck in question. New? Future?? These were practically junkers back in the civilised lands of anywhere that's not goddamn Oz. Had to be off the grey market, some old Shiawase trucks driven to the moon and back and then sold on to some idiot Australian who thought they were getting a real steal of a deal on them. These had such antiquated security on them that Joanna knew she could jack one in her sleep, no problems. So easy. That truck and the half-dozen or so metal cargo containers hooked up to it all stamped with fairly recent looking Shiawase marks. That see could read from the manifest just left strewn over the table were drones of some sort. No doubt expensive ones, big drat payday expensive ones… Outside the rest of the team hear the loudspeakers screech into life, accompanied by a green light flashing on the main building of the compound. "Trailer in holding bay three!" The voice booms. "You are cleared to pass through customs! Be warned that if you are not clear of the border checkpoint in five minutes you and your cargo will be detained!" It sounded a bit harsh, but this was Oz after all. Inside, the guard takes her finger off the comms button and looks back to Jo. "And you're good, mate." She thrusts the pile of papers back at her. "Just don't let those cows get loose or there'll be hell to pay." PS! Lifelong thief is kicking into gear. If you do not spend a plot point, Jo will need to hijack that tractor trailer loaded with high-quality shiawase drones.
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Nov 15, 2017 07:53
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This might have been her first time in the country, but this was hardly Jo's first time sneaking into a warehouse in broad daylight looking to steal something. And frankly this was hardly the most well protected specimen either. There didn't seem to be any cameras set up inside with the cargo, just a few on the outside. And they were much more focused on logging every truck that drove in and out of the base rather than anything going on inside the warehouse. The only two guards that even bothered to come out to their vehicle were now otherwise occupied, leaving Jo with a clear moment to dash back into the warehouse and take a closer look at that autotruck. And luckily she manages to get there without encountering another one. While there were more customs personnel guarding the base than just the two, the warehouse seemingly wasn't the prime target they were protecting. Just preventing unwanted intruders from getting near the perimeter fence looked to be the more important to them than making sure nothing from the cargo manifest was 'misplaced'. All the more reason for Jo to press her luck. Sliding under the trailer and sending her drones up above, there isn't an angle that she can't put her eyes on. The cargo containers were firmly attached and there didn't seem to be any way to extract just one drone easily. The cab, being fully automatic, was not freely enterable. There were no real windows on the thing and the doors were just sealed access ports to some of the engine mechanics. As was the bonnet. But after a thorough poking under the carriage Jo stumbles on a pretty easily openable floor vent, which she finds leads up into the brains of the smart truck at the back of the cab. It's a tight fit, but easy enough for Jo to settle into. Now she just needed to drive the drat thing. Outside, whether they knew it or not, Wrangler was providing a great distraction by turning the massive engine over and pulling the truck out of the parking bay. All eyes and guns of the guards were watching this cow riddled truck slowly make its way out of their base. Not because it was suspicious exactly, sure Monster was hanging off the side like a confused koala and Jinx stubbornly refused to move at all from the rear doors in case of catastrophic cow emergency and somehow that wasn’t exactly cause for concern, but mostly to make sure that this foreign cargo clears the border station without any issues. If something was going to go tits up they didn't want it to happen on their watch. The gates in front of them open up and Wrangler is able to deftly manoeuvre the truck out of the compound proper. Of course he doesn't get much further than that and not at any real speed at all, they still had to wait for Joanna to catch up from whatever the hell it was she was doing.
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Nov 24, 2017 19:54
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With the plan figured out on the fly, Full Stop lobs the smoke grenade gently on the bonnet and Wrangler slows the truck into a very convincing stop. From a distance, which was approximately how far they were now from the check point, it had to look like a very convincing break down. It helped that, on their side, their trucked looked like a scrapyard hunk of junk which would be exactly the sort of vehicle to catch fire for no real reason. Those cocky foreigners thought they could take on the Oz outback and just be fine, of course. It doesn’t take more than a few moments from when Wrangler pulls the the truck off to the side of the road to make their faux-breakdown all the more convincing than the checkpoint guard buzzes across on the radio yet again. Though this time seeming a lot less happy then he had been previous. “Bloody hell, just what the hell have ya gone and done ya bloody idiots?” He cusses out. “You can’t get back in ‘ere without loving back off from Perth. If you need help you’re poo poo out of luck you-“ And the tenor of the conversation continued on roughly in that manner. Back inside, Joanna hadn’t a care in the world. Probably to her overall detriment given where she was stealing this truck from, but if you can enjoy your success than you might as well replace your heart with chrome. The thrill of the hunt, that’s what Joanna cared about. Almost as much as how much she could flip these drones for once they got free of this checkpoint. What the others were doing or what poo poo she got them into? Pretty much down the bottom of the who-gives-a-poo poo list. The auto-truck roars into life and charges out of the warehouse, knocking aside several crates and one other, smaller truck on the way. With the exterior border patrol guards distracted with the sudden breakdown of the cow cargo, the auto-truck utterly surprised everybody when it bursts out of the warehouse and drives right out of the check point. “Motherfucker!” Comes over the radio, the comms guard sounding distracted with sudden flareup of background chatter that floods the channel. “Who the gently caress told that thing to move!” Is followed swiftly by, “Get it the gently caress back here!” The comms chatter makes the next few seconds rather incomprehensible, but one voice comes clear over the radio again. “My bloody arse it is! Kick the minefield back into action!” For Wrangler, that wasn’t too much of a problem. He just had to take everybody off-road a little bit and take a more scenic route over to Perth. For Joanna, while she had got the truck up and running and moving, she hadn’t quite cracked the navigation system yet. So right now, she was on course to drive right down the mine-riddled road to Perth.
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Dec 11, 2017 11:04
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PS, don't count that edge spent just yet. You rolled six d5's the first time which ain't right. Roll over again with six d6 and then we can see what happens.
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Dec 16, 2017 07:08
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Maybe Joanna wasn't used working under this sort of pressure, maybe she was just new to having to patch in a driver from the outside, but she had a hell of a time finding the right connection to let Monster in. The auto-truck happily trundles along and past where the rest of her team had pulled up and faked the break down, not slowing down at all as it drives right towards the several kilometre stretch of mined dirt road. Count her lucky starts then that Monster was at the other end and was quite determined to not have anything blow up quite yet. Without much warning, Joanna is tossed around on the inside of the cab like a shoe in a clothes dryer. The auto-truck jerks to the right and veers way the hell off the road in such a way that if it weren't a direct corp hand-me-down an axle probably would have broken by now. No mines look to have been tripped, and as the odd bush and scrub get eaten under the auto-truck it continues at a decent speed off-road and towards the desert. Still hoping their disguise is working, the cow ladened truck gets another message over the radio. "Blood truck has gone on us." A new voice informs them, a very unhappy gruff troll type. "Don't you bloody move an inch, hear me? Outriders are being sent out to get that cargo back an' if you're in the way at all they're bloody well just go through you all, yeah?" He helpfully informs the gang, halfway between doing his job to inform the public and half threatening them if they annoyed him in any capacity. The lookouts on top of the bus/trailer can indeed see that from behind them, the base was spewing out a couple of armoured utilities with machine guns fixed on the back.
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Dec 20, 2017 11:06
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The poor, poor comms operator didn't need this. He already had enough poo poo on his hands coordinating this god drat poo poo show of a scene, now needing to keep the base and guards in contact with the outrider vehicles being set out and apparently get bitched out by some yank rear end in a top hat with entitlement issues. Besides an annoyed groan, Hax doesn't actually get a reply for a little while. There's only the sound of motors being redlined as two utes, modified to deal with the desert, race along after the rogue auto-truck. "Fucken," The comms crackle back to life. "Hey, sure thing mate. You wanna drive through the loving mines to stay on your god drat time table you go right ahead. Go get the gently caress out of here." He gives the green light, and almost sounds glad at the thought of Hax and co. getting themselves exploded. "The gently caress do I care if some assholes go and get themselves blown up. Mines need to get workout anyway. Not my load of loving cows going to go to poo poo, is it? loving foreigners need to just gently caress off back where they came from…"
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Dec 23, 2017 18:58
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The battle lines had been drawn. Joanna had pulled a total wild card move and got greedy as hell hijacking a second truck out of nowhere, and it just wouldn't be right to let these kinda annoying rear end in a top hat but ultimately not doing anything that isn't just their job border guards die for that. A solution born not from bullets and fire but wit and cunning had to be thought up and enacted, and there was precious few seconds to get this done before something seriously bad was going to happen to either them or the guards. Thankfully, Monster was up to the task! Compared to some of the tasks put to her past, this was easy. She didn't even need to kill anybody for this! Here, all she needed to do was make it look like some backwards Australian hicks were terrible drivers. Hardly work at all, some would say. If they had time for forethought, all they would have needed to do was introduce a slab of beer into the equation. As it stood, Monster's mental might substituted well enough. Whatever malevolent, dread filled thoughts she directs the way of the utes works immediately. The fishtail crash doesn't hurt anybody, but it tosses the trucks way out into the dunes and the following argument keeps the border patrol more than occupied enough for both trucks to drive away freely. That didn't mean everybody was out of trouble, though. Both trucks still needed to get very far away from the mines and the border checkpoint, and from there make it to the drop of point for the bovine cargo. And Joanna was still stuck in the computerised cab of the auto-truck! Dropping herself out the bottom would at best maim her, and more than likely would just end up with all limbs (organic and chrome) getting eaten under the big rig wheels. But her tiny drone, once released and thrown into the air, is able to survey the situation and sees that both the outriders had now crashed. That meant there was no chase. And the 'auto' part of the truck was now hijacked, so she could slow down and get out when there was time. But until then, Jo just wiggles her way up and out of the hatch she punched open and takes a seat on top of the truck cab. The need to put distance between them and any sort of pursuing authority, even with the two outriders having been disposed of, means that for a good while Jo is stuck sitting on the roof of her truck while the rest of the team are riding alongside on the decidedly less advanced cow truck. Once they are past radio range, and surely past any minefields, both trucks try their luck back on the poor excuse of a road. And luckily do not explode on contact, so make some good time getting distance between them and the border. It's quite a while on the road before paranoia is sated enough to slow down and take both trucks back off the road again. They were coming up on the drop off point, it wasn't that far out of the way from here to Perth proper now, and they needed to sort their poo poo out. Nobody was expecting two trucks, for one. Or the cargo of whatever was on the hijacked auto-truck. Not to mention that there might be anything in that fake cow Monster discovered. At the very least, Joanna needed to get her rear end off that drat stolen truck and come back over to the cows.
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Jan 11, 2018 20:30
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The mental might of Monster's magic gets to work and once again, the rightly unruly cattle settle down and fall into line. Once the trailer door is cracked open again the cows walk out in an orderly queue. The unfortunate cow chosen as Monster's steed doesn't even mind as she inexpertly climbs on up top. But safely away from the reasonable blast radius of any rigged explosives, she keeps a direct sight line on the trailer and her fellow jobbers. Full Stop and Jinx now have a free run to get at the obviously fake cow in the middle of the trailer.
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Jan 14, 2018 13:24
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Before opening any package, let alone a fake cow looking one in amongst stolen cows, one must investigate it. You could be taken for a fool otherwise. And it is a good thing Veronika is such an astute eye for such things, as she more than makes up for the rest of the team being not exactly detail orientated. And being more than a hundred metres away from the cow in question. Obvious, the fake cow was fake. No real effort went into hiding it beyond sticking it in the very middle with all the other cows. The sheet metal shell, spray painted white and black, is fairly flimsy and is not actually anchored down too well. Veronika's god given muscles are more then enough to shift it, which reveals what had been hidden away. Monster's instincts to stand as far away as possible seemed to be on the money, as it becomes quite clear that the fake cow was in fact loaded with explosives. After the initial shock however, and after they fail to explode immediately, Veronika notices a few things. While yes this cow was full of explosives, they didn't seem strong enough to kill them all. Not by a long shot, nor was it shaped to do particular damage to whoever was riding on top or in the cab. The best she can figure it, the way the bomb was packed seemed more aimed towards shredding meat than punching through the metal of the trailer. And there didn't seem like there was any onboard trigger, so it wasn't directly linked to any of the cows. And the lack of any connection to the matrix meant there couldn't be decker waiting somewhere to connect into it and set the whole thing off. Which left only one real answer in Veronika's mind, the explosive cow was meant set to be triggered by coming into contact with something or someone. And given the nature of the job? All fingers had to be pointed at their final destination. Any deeper understanding of the machinations, she couldn't fathom. This was Australia, after all. But in her mind, unless somebody wanted to dig in and try to disarm the fake cow bomb, avoiding the upcoming meet and drop off should be enough to keep them all from being covered in ungodly amounts of cow blood and guts. Joanna had a far easier and less deadly time looking at her goodies. The crates looked by and large similar, so cracking just the one was enough to get a representative look at the drone she stole. It was a few years old, this surveillance drone, but was bound to be top of the line here in Australia. Lightly armed, high altitude optics, easily remote controlled with advanced ECCM tech. Odds were it was either for a police force or corp security, but gear like this was always fast to sell on the market. Gnoll that's actually 2 successes, FYI. Not that it matters because MMA went ahead and broke it anyway.
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Jan 30, 2018 17:16
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Full Stop or Jonx, you gonna listen to the tiny baby girl on the cow here? Or Wrangler, you got any thoughts you wanna interject into the bovine discussion??
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Feb 6, 2018 16:44
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Full Stop, unlike her code name, was not about to let something as trivial as the threat of having her torso torn to shreds by directed explosives stop her from doing a job. Not like she wasn't used to working in deadly life threatening situations, and nothing designed just to blow up cows can be as bad as real weapons. She makes short work of the bolts, a simple matter of having the right tool for the right job. And having the strength enough to drat near rip the bolts off the bus floor. As securely as it was fixed into the trailer, it's not all that much of a wait until the entire explosive fake cow contraption is free and delicately dragged out of the bus. Nobody was exactly an IED cow expert, but the set up was fairly simple. Directed explosives and ball baring style shrapnel all set up to kill the meat inside while not really hurting the crew or the engine much at all. The top of the cow was even armoured to keep the killing stuff from punching up through the roof. They have to assume that it is all enough to take out the herd, and there certainly seems like there is enough packed in the fake cow to cause trouble. No identifying marks on it, and it wasn't digital at all so no luck hacking in that way. That only really left the ork bastard who gave them the milk run as a suspect, and not much else. Full Stop follows Monster's plan and drags the cow far out into the desert scrub and, following the most strict safety guidelines, everybody stands back a far way and the fake bomb cow is drenched in diesel and set on fire. Will it explode? Will it cause untold damage to the natural environment? Who knows, because nobody was sticking around to check on it after the flame is lit. While the cow situation was being dealt with, Joanna was busy unloading a few of her new toys. Disappointedly mediocre but still good enough to turn a little bit of coin, a cool half dozen are pulled free of their transport crates and stashed in the bus while the cows were still out and under Monster's soothing hand. Well, most are. There wasn't enough room for the last two so they are rather shoddily strapped to the roof. Hopefully these things were weather sealed. Monster directs the cows back into the bus after the the fake bomb cow is disposed of, and everybody loads back up. They still had a little ways to go yet, after all! Platonicsolid, drones aren't that big but with all the cows also in the trailer there ain't too much room so you can get like four and including strapping some to the roof two more for the total of six. If you want more or something then you can at the cost of a edge point to direct the narrative thusly. If anybody needs anything done in this scene, you can also retroactively announce / declare it for am edge and it'll be so. Any heat left following them surely would have stopped at the dumped truck Joanna hijacked to check it and the drone cargo out. Whatever the case, the team is scott free barrelling down the freeway with their cargo of for sure stolen and only probably rustled goods. Studying the map studiously, it was clear they were coming close to the drop off point. And also honest to goodness civilisation! In the form of something other than desert everywhere you looked. Acres and hectares of dirt farms and solar banks lines either side of the freeway, no doubt helping feed and power the free city of Perth. Out of nowhere, there is a loud *BEEP* in the cabin. If somebody had to guess, it was set up to ping as soon as the cargo was back in range of OzNet in Perth, signalling that the truck was close to the drop off point. It is loud enough to snap attention to the road, and from the road to a sign pointing to a huge truck servicing roadhouse. The map was not precise enough to say one way or the other if this was the right spot or not, but as the road sign had 'RUN MILK HERE' and a bad cows head spray painted underneath it in fluro yellow paint, an educated guess would probably give it a shot. The vast, unsealed carpark was pretty empty. Except for a couple other truck, both empty and with trailers attached. Both had a couple surly looking outback orks standing by, leaning on the cab reading the paper or smoking durries. There were no weapons as far as anybody could see, and the roadhouse itself seemed the sort of place that you go to drink yourself to death in peace and quiet. Nobody from there was going to bother you. Robodog fucked around with this message at 16:36 on Oct 23, 2018 |
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Feb 26, 2018 00:22
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Having slept the whole way on the roof, Monster emerges with a pretty nice tan / terrible sunburn. Jungle heat was one thing, but outback sun without even the hint of an ozone layer was another. Thankfully she wasn't exposed too much, but enough of her skin was toasty to definitely feel it. The orks, quite busy with their own very important business, take some degree of exception to Jinx walking up and disturbing them so rudely. But, both veterans of the most drunken of bar fights, they know better than to start poo poo with some random and extremely huge elf if it can be avoided. So both the oz orks just look Jinx up and down, see that she wasn't there to start poo poo, and more or less just acquiesce to the innocent enough request. "Cows?" One ork, who is a bit taller than the other and with far greater tusks, looks to the other. He doesn't really seem to know much about it, just giving both his mate and Jinx a bit of a shrug. Getting no help from him, the ork just snorts and turns attention back to the huge elf. "Well sheila, I dunno 'bout any cows." He bluntly tells her, peering around her frame to look at the trailer. From that angle, there was no easy way to tell if cows were there or not. "But I know Johnno's," The ork nods his head towards the roadhouse. "Been expecting the milk tanker to come in for drat near a week now." He turns to his mate again. "Milks a cow thing, yeah? S'not goats too, is it?" His mate shrugs again, being as helpful as ever.
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Mar 7, 2018 07:37
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The talkative ork nods Jinx's way, leaving her and the lot of foreigners to get on with their own business. The size difference between Monster and Jinx as they walk their way to the roadhouse is drat near comical. It might as well be a troll mother bringing in a tiny little baby dwarf for a drink, it was literally that much of a difference in the size. Literally. Except that Monster looked more than a little psychotic at this point, what with the gnarly suntan and hours of cow exposure and the flamethrower, and Jinx no matter how friendly did have a sort of 'I could tear your head off if I really wanted to' vibe that tended to keep strangers from being too silly. This sees them, when the door is slammed open and the attention of everybody in the roadhouse drawn to the entrance, handled with some respect and patience rather than a hail of bullets. Just having a weapon with you was downright sensible on the outback, after all. Neither Monster nor Jinx were directly pointing a gun at anybody, a very rude action even by Oz standards, so for now the same courtesy is shown to them. Regardless of the calibre of and massive guns that may be aimed at the entire building from outside by the rest of the team. What Johnno doesn't know doesn't hurt him. "The gently caress wants to know?" A human behind the bar, presumably Johnno judging from how angrily he took the enquiry, answers Monster. He was tall enough for a run of the mill human, though certainly not up to Jinx proportions. His deeply sunburnt tan and large, calloused hands gave the impression of a man who enjoyed getting down and dirty and do things for himself. Neither him nor any of the other miscellaneous patrons of the roadhouse seemed to have any appreciable chrome to speak of. Perhaps this was not the place for such high tech messing about. Finishing some off-colour liquor from a stein, the man thumps the mug down hard on the counter. "The gently caress you from, anyway?" Whether this was asking who had sent the duo or genuinely asking where the non-ozzie Monster was from was unclear. The tone was still powerfully unfriendly, however. For the moment it seemed, Johnno and the rest were waiting on the two interlopers explain themselves before any untoward actions might be commenced.
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Mar 9, 2018 20:59
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 The sun is warm but not scorching, and only a slight smell of burning truck fuel mars the otherwise refreshing lungfuls of fresh air. It seemed like a pretty easy, lazy gig for those on watch. But there was much going on under the bonnet. Veronika is an intimidating presence to be sure, but one would probably assume a drunk enough local might try to test their luck with the troll. And you can’t just gun down a local drunk without consequences, no. Quite a tricky prospect, that. And with all those drones being unloaded and tinkered with by Joanna, there was booty enough for those who didn’t even care about the truck load of cows. A dangerous, profitable target if anybody cared to try. Be it by luck or through their expert perimeter guarding, however, nobody dares threaten the team or the bovine cargo. Not even the two other truckers they share the yard with seem to give them much more of a look. Not even the herd act up much! Inside the roadhouse, where stale air mingled with cigarette smoke and spilt beer to make an altogether unfriendly aroma, it couldn’t be claimed that things were nearly as calm. Strangers from out of town rocking up from seemingly nowhere, getting all hostile and shouting about cows and deals and guns? Not the way to make friends in most places, is it? From the reaction most of the local Australians had to the interlopers, it would only be good for making blood leak outside of their designated organs and open up bullet holes where there were none before. Jinx’s attempt to diffuse the tense atmosphere with down to earth homestyle hospitality is mixed. Guns are still held on hand and angry glares are aimed about like laser pointers, but those warm words of welcome are just so damned earnest that even the hardened bastards of the roadhouse find it hard to keep their angry suspicions. Surely if these strangers really meant to roll on up and start poo poo, they wouldn’t be bothering with such pleasantries. They would have just used those guns out front to light the whole building up. No need to even start spewing nonsensical poo poo about cows. Monster’s frustrated barking was much less suspicious. Tiny girl has a truck load of cows to deliver and was angry that Johnno wasn’t just signing for them right there and then, no need to think much hard about that. “Out front, huh?” The man in question repeats, sounding a little sceptical about the entire situation. It might have been genuine, it might have been some kind of arcane local bargaining technique. There was no way to divine it before Wrangler Hax opened his big mouth and sound like they were all ready to just turn around and drive those moo cows right back home again. The hard bargain calls the local’s bluff. “Hang on, hang on.” Johnno puts up his hands. “…ya mean it’s just cows? The cows?” He looks to confirm, staring the three foreigners dead in the eye. As if that alone would tell him the truth. A few moments after getting as good a judge as one can through eyes, he seems to nod to one of his underlings to go out and check such claims. A scrawny looking dwarf jogs on, dutifully poking his head out a window to take a look. “No stupid bloody jokes or trailer fulla dead cattle or swimming pool of rotten milk? Just cows?” Johnno barks, the dwarf tossing him back an effusive thumbs-up. It seems that this turn of events, the utter lack of any surprises or gunshots, was actually the least expected outcome of all. Johnno smirks to himself, wiping some dribbles of beer off his chin. “That oval office is just payin’ back what he owes?” He starts to laugh, the tense atmosphere at the bar lifting with every course, hacked out guffaw. “Well bugger me dead, I never thought I’d see the bloody day!” His assorted friends and minions, well aware of the trails and tribulations these cows have wrought, join in the laughter and soon guns are all tossed harmlessly on tables and benches and the roadhouse is decidedly more friendly than ever before. A hand signal is thrown to the dwarf, who nods and trundles his way past Monster, Wrangler and Jinx. “You lot are all right!” Johnno declares, as powerful a boon as anything this dread continent might deliver. “Come on in then mates, have a schooner on me. Bet you bloody deserve it. Movin' cattle's hard work.” He invites, slapping the front bar hard as he invites the three in. The drinks were already being poured by the barman, the glasses were probably not as clean as they possibly could be but one could not argue with the serving size. Out front Veronika and Joanna see that very same dwarf approach at a hurried clip. But he seemed nonthreatening enough, doing little else but swatting at possibly imagined flies on his way over. "None of 'em look dead, good work there. I'll take the herd then, yeah?" He says in that Australian way where it sounds like a question when it clearly was a declaration of intent. "Boss don't like any strangers knowing where he keeps the milk, paranoid bastard." The dwarf continues, walking over to the drivers side door of the truck. "Johnno's inside with your mates." He helpfully informs the pair.
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Apr 23, 2018 16:19
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In her line of work caution had been drilled into her, as as such just letting the strange saunter on up to the cows was a little out of line. Undeterred the outback dwarf, as polite and courteous as they get out here, nods Veronika’s way before starting the truck up. Hearing that the cargo was all well and good was better than expected out here. The cows, freed from any lingering influence of Monster’s mental tricks, also seem to be quite okay with how events are turning out. They didn’t know it, but if it weren’t for this ragtag group of foreigners they certainly would have been exploded by now. Perhaps somewhere in their hindbrains they were aware of this miraculous feat, and were deeply thankful. Quickly leaving Jo to play with her robots, Veronika decides to join the others inside. Judging from the lack of screaming and gunfire, things were going just as well inside as they had just gone outside with the handover. As outlandish as a bomb cow seems at first mention, Johhno doesn’t doubt either of the outlanders for a moment. “Bloody hell, that crazy bastard was going to waste a perfectly good truck fulla milk just t’keep on screwin’ me?” He gripes, shaking his head at the poor state of affairs he found himself in. His mates / cronies around the bar share in his saddened disbelief. “I mean, haulin’ the cows out here, payin’ you lot to drive it all, bribing the boarder force mob. It’s a gently caress lot of money to piss up the wall just t’cover me in cow guts and engine parts.” The atmosphere inside the roadhouse cools as Full Stop stomps in. She might be friendly, she might be with the helpful foreign bomb disposal experts, but her mighty presence is still enough to bring a dozen pairs of wary eyeballs her way. That is, until an ice cold beer is thrown her way. Then they knew she was alright. Slamming down his beer, Johhno looks Monster and Jinx square in the eyes. “Thanks for dumping it for me, downright conscientious of you that is.” He sincerely thanks the two, insisting on shaking hands. "In fact, that's the kinda show of character I've not seen 'round here for donkeys. Dunno if you lot are interested or not, dunno how well you know Perth or nothin', but if you're thinkin' of grabbing some work while you're out west I have a few matters that could use a hand." While Monster and Jinx were fielding possible employment opportunities, Veronika's attention had been grabbed by something else entirely. It was a certain something nobody in at the bar would even think twice about it being there any more. And something that none of her team-mates would know what is, or even care. But for a discerning expert, perhaps even fanatic, like Veronika it leapt out at her like a pit viper. Because she had all the classic tour posters that had come out to date, so for something new like this to be out meant that SHE has a new show out and it was on tour right now. 
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May 4, 2018 19:04
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The atmosphere, though still undeniably rough and rowdy as drat near everything in Australia tends to be, was clearly trending towards friendly. Beer is flowing freely, weapons are not being fired at anybody, and laughs are being had. The Australian roughnecks are loving the story as Monster tells it. "He didn't even bribe the bloody border!?" Johnno laughs, slapping his knee. "What was that oval office expectin'! Bloody hell, he was fair dinkum set on screwin' you lot. I don't even wanna know how uses fell over the state line!" His laughter turns into small coughing fit, his set of dust and sand riddled lungs not up to the task. "If you get t'see him again, give him a kickin' from us, yeah?" Johnno courteously requests, to a round of cheers and here here-ing from his mates around the roadhouse. A round of drinks later… "That one?" Johnno nods towards the said poster, umming and ahhing for a little bit to himself. Buying time while he tried to remember, or genuinely just a bit too drunk to really place a date to a face. "Crikey, when was that? Couple weeks, hey?" He turns and puts to his trusted consigliere; that dwarf what drove the truck away before. The drinking had been going on for more than long enough for the dwarf to have made his way back in. "Hmm." He studies the poster for a good long while himself. "Yeah. Dunno exactly. Not too long, but." He insists. "Any poo poo on the walls too long gets covered with beer an' blood and soaked through. You can still see what's on that one. Must be fairly new." A simple self-satisfied nod concludes his investigation. A pint glass goes flying through the air and smashes into one of the posters on the wall. "Miley bloody Kinogre!" A boorish ork with what looked like half a face missing bellows from somewhere deep within the peanut gallery. "Too big for her bloody boots, her!" Another voice cries out. "Yeah! And she's got bloody big feet to start with!" A third yells, causing a round of laughs from the crowd. No doubt the locals disapproved of how Kinogre went off and toured the world as soon as she got big enough to break into global Trid Entertainment biz. It was an argument Veronika had read over and over again online. Ozzies were a fiercely parochial bunch. Many rounds of drinks later… One of Johnno's mates, a very fat elf with a mullet, laughs when Monster asks about who has the spare vehicles around this part of town. "People who don't have cars out here are already bloody dead, mate!" He fills Monster in, chuckling and dribbling spit down his chin all the while. "If they're not sunstroke'd then the fucken snakes eat 'em alive before long." Nobody even ventures to correct the elf. So yes, there were snakes big enough to eat whole people just out in the sands here. "Nah, nah, nah." Johnno waves emphatically, beer sloshing all over. "Youse have all been stuffed around enough already, no way can I jus' send you lot out to grab some cunts car." He insists. "Sure I got work and engines and poo poo out me arse, but nah. Nah!" He insists, the local rules of hospitality being no small thing to ignore. "Tell you what." The man in charge points out the front door. "Gimmie those drones that sheila's been cleaning up out in the car park, and I'll toss you the keys t' one of me motors. Won't stiff ya or nothing, fair dinkum XB soft-top with a V8 dropped in the bonnet." Johnno offers, spouting off some local pigdin that was hard to follow. While there was only the one other truck out the front, who know what this local man of importance had around the back. It was space enough to comfortably take the truck and cows, at the least. "Hell! I'll even give ya some cash too. Owe you anyways for finally gettin' me cows back." From how much of a give up drones for car and cash? or do a job that'll almost certainly leave you covered in blood!
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Jun 3, 2018 14:17
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pretty hard bargaining so far! But does say, Jo have anything to say about her drones here????
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Jun 14, 2018 16:13
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While waiting for Axe-Man to register a post, let us assume that in good faith Johnno has one of his blokes bring the car out front for you guys to take a look at. It's legit, not a lemon as far as any checks can tell. Solid engine, all analog, enough seats to squeeze everybody in, no boot space, and built to survive anything the desert can throw at it. Licenses are all scrubbed clean and good to go, not wanted or poorly made forgeries or nothing.
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Jun 27, 2018 18:42
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"It's the fuckin' guts." A helpful local volunteers, assisting Jinx with the terminology. As much as it seemed like a playful prank a local would pull on an unknowing visitor, telling them a silly word that didn't actually mean what they said it did, none of the assembled Australians react at all. It was just some colourful local slang, the kind of stuff that no outsiders like them will ever actually learn or fully understand. No doubt it would come in ultra handy later on. With everybody agreed that it was a good car and a good enough trade given the circumstances, the foreigners all pile into the local automotive monstrosity even though there is little room to move after all their bulk plus equipment is jammed in. The extra weight puts some strain on the suspension, but it doesn't seem to phase the engine as much. It roars into life sounding not dissimilar to a badly tuned jet engine, and leaves a terrible plume of exhaust and gravel behind as the tyres struggle to put the enormous torque onto the road. And in just a couple hours, the shining cityscape of metropolitan Perth shows itself. While not as dense, built up, smog choked or neon as some more familiar cities back home it is undeniably more modern than the whole rest of the country so far. It bodes well for things like buying supplies, getting more work, logging on to the matrix, hiding out in a place with a population density worth mentioning. Being the generous kinda guy he was, Johnno even dipped into his considerable network of ne'er-do-well's to hook his new foreign friends up with an out of the way garage to stay in for a little while. It was in some degree of industrial area that was a little less bright and shiny than the the rest of the city, but still miles more civilised than the desert. Fully furnished with at least one couch and a fridge, of course half full of beer, it was perfect for the outlanders to gather their thoughts and plan whats next. If they wanted to get some local work, it could be somewhere to work out of in the short term. If they wanted to drive back across the entire country to murder some cow pranking piece of poo poo then it would serve them well for that too. And all possibilities in-between! Sorry for the huge delay. I got no real excuse, had migraines and pretty bad nausea/vomiting and other health stuff in the way but really it boiled down to not giving the game the attention it really needs. My bad on that, totally. Time to party hard and get your arses to Perth! Population is not too dense but moreso than the bush. For an idea on the general Perth cityscape look/feel, think these https://www.theguardian.com/cities/gallery/2018/jul/13/toward-a-concrete-utopia-yugoslavian-architecture-in-pictures On the way, it's also end of mission level up reward time! Upgrade and plan stuff to do, or I can drop stuff on you it's all good. You get karma for completing the cow contract! It might not have been completed for the original guy, but it was completed for somebody! Take 15 karma for all of that! You get karma from the GM for posting! Everybody still active and posting as a reward gets 7 extra added on to that! Use them karmas and upgrade your shits! Absolutely nothing is off limits. If it requires a local fixer or gun merchant to get you restricted equipment or similar then we can work that out too.
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Aug 7, 2018 10:59
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| # ¿ Apr 26, 2024 03:48 |
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The kid looks up at Jinx, large pincers limply flopping from his mouth. "Ooh! Owwh! I kwnow!" He spits out, the sea insect mushing in his mouth and drool dripping all over the footpath. "Ginia Rinehart! Did I get it right!?"
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Aug 22, 2018 02:06
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