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 quote:Three Mile, a Symbiote
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Jul 26, 2018 13:34
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| # ¿ May 1, 2024 18:00 |
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Three Mile <Gus> The hosed-up wind keeps blowing. Green, yeah, but full of hate. Us skels are used to the green mist wafting, but that's bright and lively. This is wasted and dead and nearly alive, it seems. Don't like it. At least it's not as bad as on the downside. Check the mag in the smig. Third time this morning, but I'm on. Antsy. It's slung around my neck and shoulder, and the same with the messenger bag the Duke gave me last night. Sometimes I'm allowed to check contents, sometimes not, but there was no problem this time. So it's a pack of old magazines, right? Naked fleshgirls from cover to cover. Trade material or something. It'd make sense that meat-havers would like this sort of thing, but it's just kinda boring. I'd assume that's why I got this job, not like I'm going to embezzle these. I doubt these are going to these handprints that have showed up. I hope they've got construction skills or something? Haven't figured out the angle here, but it's weird that the Duke would head out just as a new cadre would roll in. Must be important business all around. Fuckin' wind. Hopefully the handprints can help us build a real windbreak. I doubt that Santa Muerte will help, but she probably won't kill us all. I'm only half-joking, here. Wacknut for sure, but I think she's doing well since her, uh, dramatic entrance to the fort. Seems like she likes it here, but that won't slow her march for too long. <Encina> Business has been fuckin' lit lately, I was even able to hook Platinum up with the real good poo poo to take back to their crib. And speak of the guitarist, this show is so hype. The Boneatarium is such a great venue. And, and, I can't shake the feeling that something is profoundly hosed up around here. Here, everywhere. The drat wind. Panda, on my right, felt it too. He's never been out the Boneatarium, and when you routinely tip well, well, sometimes it comes back around. But the trip here sucked, and I blame the wind. Full of hate, like it wants you to die, not just harsh like a regular wind. Trying to not let it bring the whole mood down, and looking at Platinum with anticipation helps. But that rot-flesh at the gate didn't. Just stared at me as we walked in. "The Molar Queen has a legit gun-stash," she hissed. Why tell me? Why tell me then? Why should I care? Why? C'mon. Let's get the show started. <Puma> This is loving brutal. The green hatewind. Blew up out of nowhere and hasn't stopped. It's ripping upwards and flowing throughout topside. Wants you to die. Wants me to die. Wants me to kill myself? Greeler and Spite, don't kill them. And the chants in my ears. Thump. Thump. Locarni's crying. The Lottery are here. Avva protect us. I put my arm around Greeler; an armful of ribs under a sweater. We lock eyes. The temple above creaks? gently caress. It's real bad down here. The Lottery are here. I stand. "All right," I declare. "It's never been like this before." They know it. We know it. It's a victory chant. It's the victory chant. I know it well. A rock falls from topside and whips down past the doorway, down into the miasma below. The green wind blasts upwards. "Greeler. Get your guns. Spite, get the talismans. Ki Yin, Locarni. This is going to be hard. Get the relics and the Chain." I close my eyes as the chants and wind merge into a bad vision in my head, and shake it off as best I can. "We go topside in half an hour." This is not a suggestion. The Health of the Host (ii): 2d6+2 10 NPC: Molar Queen, luckily discovered some weapons. PC: Platinum, from Encina PC: Two Percent, from ??? PC: Santa Muerte, from ???
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Jul 26, 2018 14:48
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Three Mile <Gus> "No poo poo, that sucks," I reply. Genuinely surprised, really. Big Saw's a pretty good scav. "Wind keeping everything down? Figured you'd be good out there when nobody else was. 'less of course it's loving with the motors." Big skel, big truck. Lots of space to haul and he can pick up the big crap nobody else can. Or fit a lot of smaller stuff. Or a full load of stuff plus me in the passenger's seat. Was on my way back from the Bronze Alley and long story short I was short a tibia. So after days of limping through the wastes Big Saw runs across me and recognizes me, good fucker nearly breaks off my other leg tossing me into the cab and making sure I get home safelike. No charge. "Redskulls ain't buying?" So anyway, after I bought a new leg out of the Duke's stash, sometime later Yung Chegg was asking around trying to get his scrimshaw biz off the ground. Thought about it for a minute, told him I'd be happy to be the first customer. Gotta get your reputation started somehow, right? <Encina> "Just some bullshit about the Molar Queen." I roll my eyes, hoping Panda will assume it was just rumors. It usually is, when it comes to the Molar Queen. That wasn't, though. That was real. And I don't know why. Panda doesn't need to know that, though. And hopefully Panda doesn't notice the weird mouthy "tooth fairy" that gets sent my way before he rots off to wherever....then Panda replies telling me all about how the Molar Queen is why Lasso was never able to buy out the Boneatarium. I don't think that makes any sense, but we buy another couple shots of bad liquor from the joyboi running around and we are in full-on gently caress-off conspiracy land; this is why Panda's so great to have at the bar. Between Platinum's riffs and the booze and the wind and the chatter I think I've figured something out about it invalidating a deal that they made in secret over a long-lost fleshchild and a hidden bunker of preCalcified weaponry and frankly I have no idea but I think I need some more booze and <Puma> Step by step. It's a long way to go to confront the past. If we're lucky it won't be instant shattering, but even that would be better than waiting for the Lottery to inevitably find us and destroy us in our home. I know. I've done it. Marched right through the center of a small settlement out in the Western March. Not like there was much but small settlements, but you know. Place looked like a ghost town when we got there, rightly so. We'd been looking for her, LeTaine, for months. She had the audacity to insult Reta in our midst. That was miles and miles ago. So I was sent as the head of a hunting cadre...there's more than that here. This is the whole accursed Lottery. We are dust. I look back. We're all here. The Chain glistens sickly in the green. I was sent as the head of a hunting cadre, to punish LeTaine. We surrounded her home, crushed it with our chants. Praise Reta. And then I entered and ripped her metatarsals one by one. Ground them to dust with my hammer. She was a full-flesh woman, too. She watched as we ruined her, and as I strapped her valuables to my coat and pack. Blued steel pistols and swords. Cigarettes still in shrinkwrap. A few books. And then I shot her in the stomach, left her to die as we marched back. No different than any other. We lengthened Scratch's Chain that day. Just like hunting cadres always did. Just like they always do. And so we march upwards.
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Jul 30, 2018 19:19
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Three Mile <Gus> "Fritty's is going to get wrecked...again," I grumble. Can't keep that place intact, through no real fault of his own. "I'm sure she'll handle it, but we might as well see what's going on, I guess." Yung Chegg's a bit excitable, but he's probably not wrong that things are gonna go down. And as we're walking over there, we can hear it. "Yeeup, that'll do it," I let Big Saw and Yung Chegg know, as if they can't identify automatic fire for themselves. We keep walking, though Yung Chegg stumbles a bit. "What," I ask, "this was your idea." And then I see her. "Santa Muerte," I call out. Looking at the carnage, I say simply, "Can you just...loving go?" Hope Fritty's doing all right, but we'll get to him soon. <Encina> "Aw what the gently caress! We're being fuckin' invaded!" This is turning into a fuckin' mess, quickly. "C'mon, Panda, let's go," and we start fighting our way towards the front of the stage, towards Platinum. Even in danger, the blood pouring from their orifices indicates this is gonna be a wild ride. But then the riff starts, and something's not quite right...I can't see... 1-harm ap taken; on the NPC scale that's quite dangerous. <Puma> "They sent you? You? New York, the last skel to ride? I see you've grifted your way up in the world, slick outfit. And yet they sent you down here, first into the nest. You know why they did that? Scratch expects you to die. Expects you to fail." I glance back and see our Chain glowing, snaking through Locarni's arms. "Can't say the ol' boss is wrong." I spin the rifle; probably too close to aim but it's still a rifle. "Who'd you steal that chain from?" I let the silence build, I don't care if New York answers or not. "You can give it to us and get the gently caress out of here or you can go over the edge along with it. Your call." Go Aggro (Puma): 2d6+2 9 Threatening with the butt of the rifle (1-harm close awkward)? and the fact that there's five of us and one New York.
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Aug 3, 2018 14:42
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Three Mile <Puma> I smile, and take the chain. I wind it around my left arm and chest, then pass it backwards; Ki Yin will link it. "Thanks, New York, thought you'd see things our way." I turn to Greeler, and almost ask him if he feels those riffs reverberating in his marrow before I realize what's going on. Instead I just toss him a proud wink, and offer a thumbs up to the smaller ones. At least, I think I know what's going on in the marrow. Can't worry about it know. We'll be fine, we always are. We - and now Greeler and Spite are holding me up. Bad look. I try not to glare too hard at New York, it's not his fault. Regaining my strength, I thank Greeler and Spite, and then tell New York, "Lead on and up. We know what we're walking into, you better than us, now." <Encina> "No," I say, as I reach for Platinum's face. "There's supposed to be blood pouring out of your ears and eyes, not mine," I manage to grin. "I can barely see. Help me, Platinum," and then I'm coughing blood. Hopefully not on to them. I don't even know where Panda is anymore. "Molar Queen? Bitchhhhhh..." <Gus> "Fuckin," I spit at them but really, nobody at all. I take their help, Big Saw nearly rips my humerus out. That's Big Saw, though. "Fuckin, some poo poo's going down." I see Yung Chegg's jaw start moving, "Yeah, I know, speaking the obvious. Not like that, though. Don't worry about it." I look around. "Our lady of fuckoff death will be leaving now," I intone again, "Maybe get the Redskulls to work on this? I don't know, their person got fragged." Fritty. "Fritty, you good?" Arms, legs, ribs, jacket, gun, pack. Glasses. I'll be good. "The obvious notwithstanding, of course."
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Aug 7, 2018 15:19
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