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Paper Fallout, the story; so our ideas and the story can be in two different topics so it's not confusing
Topic Started: Aug 2 2013, 03:43 PM (1,843 Views)
Khan

Trubba

Location: Koopolis (Trouble Center; Bowser's Region)
Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6mCvnTvTvgs

You looked over the Troubles on the board and decided on taking the one about the old raider. That sounded interesting, and you were eager to get moving from this town and see what else was out there. You walked over to Marvin's counter.

Trubba: I think I'll take the trouble about the raiders.

Marvin: I'm not the one who-

Scalp: I'm the one who issued that one. Marvin's just going to handle the paper work. Aren't you, masky?

Marvin: Sure, whatever.

Scalp gave you some coordinates to put into your Pep Boy.

Scalp: I sure hope you know what you're getting into, Clubba. I'd rather you join the berserkers or the frontlines than die trying to kill some shitheads, but it's your choice. Just go North and track them down. They're camped out somewhere near a power plant or something. We're not entirely sure, our scouts don't have that area completely mapped out. Some have gone missing, and others are taking a long time.

Trubba: I'll be careful.

Scalp: If you do deal with them somehow though, then there'll be a good amount of prestige with the Sons in it for you. It'd make Morton and the other leaders happy. Plus, you'd prove yourself as a soldier, unlike certain Shy Guys who do paper work all day in a cozy little hovel.

Marvin: I can still hear you.

Scalp: Good.

Trubba: I'll be going now. You guys have fun.

Scalp: I wish I could go slay with you.

Marvin: Just give me your name to put in the record books.

Trubba: Sirius Trubba.

Marvin typed on his keyboard and entered it in.

Marvin: Alright, you're all set. See you later Trubba.

You turned and walked out of the Trouble Center, wondering how and if you could deal with these raiders... or if it would be a good idea.


Location: Koopolis (Commons; Bowser's Region)
Music: http://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=_mu3_WkcJz8

That same tune relentlessly being played made you even more eager to leave. But first, two more pieces of business. You walked out of the Trouble Center, past the two Clubba guards. The Toad in the red beret and duster that you saw earlier was gone from the front of the Trouble Center. The guy didn't look friendly anyway.

First things first, you were parched. You walked over to the food stall that was Cuisine of the Koopa King. A red Yoshi chef with a beard and a black apron was in the back, mixing things and using a gas stove to cook; at the front of the stall was a Goomba with a dirty waiter monkey suit.


Goomba Vendor: Ah, welcome, weary patron! Our food is the finest in Koopolis, guaranteed. Much better than field rations, anyway. I don't know what they serve in the Keep.

Yoshi Chef: Probably rocks and gruel. Damn hardasses wouldn't know real food if I pushed it in their mugs.

Goomba Vendor: Easy Chef Zoshi, easy. Let's not bite the hand we feed, eh?

Chef Zoshi: Whatever you say, Oswald. I just find their choice in palate deplorable.

Was everybody in this town bickering? Sheesh.

Trubba: Can I have a bottle of Firewater Soda?

Oswald: Sure thing, that'll be 8 coins. Want anything to eat with that? I recommend the Koopa's Delight. It'll make Chef Zoshi happy.

Your taste buds were still assaulted from the Dried Shroom from earlier, so you thought you'd pass for now.

Trubba: Uhh... Thanks for the offer, but I'll pass.

Oswald: Suit yourself.

You handed him 8 Coins and got back the Firewater Soda. Hopefully these things tasted okay, now that you had several.

Oswald: Have a good day.

You left the stall and decided to go take Morton's Quest finally. You weren't sure why you hesitated, but you now felt silly for doing so. you walked back to the columned Seat of Power and talked to the Keep Porter at the door.

Keep Porter: You again? Morton I presume?

Trubba: Yes.

The Keep Porter nodded and motioned for you to follow him with his hand. You entered the gray wooden doors again.


Location: Koopolis (Seat of Power; Bowser's Region)
Music: http://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=igVoOaKd3ps

Once back in the throne room, you once again approached Morton at his throne. His massive size still took you aback.

Morton: So the little Clubba returns. Are you ready to accept a task for the Sons?

Trubba: Yes, Morton.

Morton nodded and motioned to one of his Koopatrols in the gold trimmed armor to go down and punch in coordinates for your Pep Boy as well as hand you Morton's Mark, a bronze etching of a flaming hammer hitting the ground.

Morton: Then go. And fight like a Son. May your club run red and proud.

You nodded and turned around to leave, getting escorted at the door by the Porter again to be led outside.


Location: Koopolis (Commons; Bowser's Region)
Music: http://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=_mu3_WkcJz8

Time to leave this city and go out exploring. You were a bit excited, and a bit afraid. Who knows what lurked at the cemetery that the holotape spoke of? Or what this "Cartographer" spoke of with the map. Would you be killed by raiders within a day, or even become one yourself? Your mind filled with questions that just made you more excited to leave. You walked back past the plethora of tents and barracks, the market stalls, and the wandering guards and merchants. You noticed out of the corner of your eye that there seemed to be some sort of commotion going on over at the Slave Pens, and your mind shot to Glummer, but you weren't too concerned. It was probably nothing, maybe another slave being rowdy.

You eventually reached the gate. There were two Goombas with light scrap armor and melee weapons standing in front of the gate flanked by a Koopatrol in full metal armor that had gold trim. Similar to the ones in the Keep. He had an unusual cane-like weapon.


Trubba: Uh, hello there. I'm going to head outside now.

The Koopolis Porter looked at you and simply nodded.

Koopolis Porter: As you wish. Present your medallion.

You pulled out the Medallion that Morton gave you and the Porter gave you a salute by clenching a fist near the right side of his head.

Koopolis Porter: Very well. Off with ya then.

The Koopolis Porter made a motion to the flanking Goombas, who began operating the machinery to open the gate.

Koopolis Porter: Hail the Koopa King.

You weren't sure what to say, so you stood there as his minions opened the gate for you.

Trubba: Right...

Eventually you spotted the wasteland proper through the threshold. Waiting for you to return for another chance to consume you whole. The day guards, Mark and Jeff, looked at you in their green and red armor. One of them said something to the other and the other snickered, but you couldn't hear them. You headed outside. Time to hit the road.


Location: Koopolis (Exterior; Bowser's Region)
Music: https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=0w-LZrSPs5Y

The dust and the grating breeze greeted you bittersweetly, like seeing a family member you hated but treated you. You had almost forgotten how empty it was out here. It was all mostly empty space across the blackened lands of Bowser's Region, with the outlines of a few familiar places on the horizon. Before you could reflect more on the coming excursion, Mark and Jeff interrupted you.

Mark: Hey! It's Trubba. From yesterday. Sholl told us he made it. So, how'd it go?

Jeff: Did you lose a few hunks of meat? Wasteland life is grand, isn't it?

You weren't sure about these two. They could be vicious and hardass at one moment, and then amiable and joking around the next. But you decided to at least be civil.

Trubba: It went fine. I'm off to attend to some business. Morton wants me to go aid your forward camp to the West.

Jeff: The one with the chomps? Well, good luck.

Mark: Yeah, hopefully you don't lose more chunks.

Trubba: I'll be okay. See you around.

Mark and Jeff gave you a salute, and then returned to their posts. You looked up and Stockholm gave you a wave and a smile too. You waved back and then walked away from the gate a small distance.

Now let's see, you thought you'd go see what that holotape was mentioning now before going after the other stuff. It sounded spooky, and who knows, that guy might still be alive. In the distance was Bullet Bill's a fair ways away to the Northwest. To the west was your old vault, and to the Northeast a fair ways was that small camp with the hulking figures that you noticed earlier. The holotape and your Pep Boy said to go North, so North you would walk.

You pulled out a Firewater Soda as you surveyed the landscape, swigging it down and sighing with contentment. It wasn't half bad. Tasted sour and zesty, but unfortunately it was flat. Kinda like a sugary fruit juice. Nice. You felt a better. A good way to preface your walking.

Well, what will you do?


GAINED: Firewater Soda, Morton's Mark

LOST: Firewater Soda, 8 Coins

HP CHANGE: +6 HP

FP CHANGE: +2 FP

NEW QUESTS ADDED


NUMBER OF MOVES LEFT IN CYCLE: 2
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Atticus
Administrator
Trubba

Location: The Wasteland (Bowser's Region)
Music: -- (Voice of Bowser)

From the gates of Koopolis, you once more headed on your way into the wasteland. The cemetery you were headed to was north of the city. How far north, you didn't know, but you figured you would probably eventually see it as you walked. The group of raiders you were supposed to take care of from the trouble you took was also apparently north as well. You figured it'd be two birds with one stone. At the very least, you hoped you would not have to make an unnecessary trip back to the city before your work up north was done. Then again, it depended on how dangerous the cemetery or the raiders proved to be. Or perhaps you would find another community in-between. Now that you were out of the city again, and didn't have that godawful speaker system drowning it out anymore, you tuned your radio back into the Voice of Bowser. You were sort of curious what the other stations were like, but news about regions other than the one you yourself was currently in seemed not that immediately useful to you. Luckily, you picked the perfect time to tune in. The music had just stopped, and the host was moving on with his introduction and hopefully, the news.

"As always, you are listening to the Voice of Bowser, the only station that speaks of the honor and order the Sons of Bowser bring to the wasteland. And I am your host, Commandant Koebbels, reporting on who needs to be stabbed, and in what area."

Just like the last time you had listened to this guy, he droned on and on for a while, ranting about the various other factions of the wasteland. At first, you had questioned how idiotic someone would have to be to actually believe some of the propaganda the Sons were putting out there... but if that was all they were ever surrounded by and exposed to... it would probably be hard for them to not believe it. You would have been probably just like them, if not for Stompadompolus. Finally, when Koebbels seemed to be out of steam for the moment following a particularly lengthy rant about one of the generals of the NMR and what he did every time he came face to face with the soldiers of the Sons, he finally got onto with the news. You had actually been worried that you were going to make it to the cemetery before he had even finished ranting.

"...Anyways, that all aside, I suppose it's time for what's happening in the region as of late. Recently, I haven't received much word about the actions of the NMR, not ever since that last skirmish at Blood Knot. Perhaps those back west have finally realized their attempts to head into Son territory is futile. Giving up on their hopes to expand into the wasteland would be best... it'd maybe even give them a short time of peace, even if we'll be there before too long. Either way, eventually, the NMR will not even be remembered among the wastes, lost to time like all the other worthless raiders and the weaklings. But speaking of closer nuisances... I've received word that relations between the residents of Koopolis and the Mutant camp north of the city have soured. Some are fine with mutated filth, while others would see them gutted. But let me tell you something. Just because these mutants claim that they're peaceful doesn't mean they all are.

Take that as you will. That's all the news I have at this moment. May the Koopa King guide you to glory, and may you serve your brothers well until death brings you to the Ossuary. Enjoy the music. Keep an eye out for the NMR scum."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NIEiqbIFbu4

As Koebbels made his outro and the music started playing, you stopped and looked ahead. There was a camp ahead comprising of a couple of makeshift shelters made of scrap. There was a sign directly in front of it, and while you were still a bit away from it, you could read the letters that were painted onto it. "Freendly. No shoot."

There was the camp of mutants that was mentioned in the news report, meaning the cemetery, or ossuary, was still at least a farther bit north. You could probably stop by the mutant camp if you wanted and still travel north to the cemetery before night falls. But you weren't sure if you wanted to. You thought you were doing fine on supplies, at least for right now, and you didn't really know if you wanted to step into conflicts between the mutants and the Sons... after all, you already had a bit much on your plate as it was. Explore a cemetery filled with who knows what, and try to take down a gang of raiders... by yourself.

You would have to think on it. But just then, the brief period of peace you had enjoyed while walking north was cut short to an end as you heard the increasingly louder clop of hooves approaching you at an alarming rate. You were not so agile, but you still managed to at least partially duck to the side as the thing that wished so badly to run you through on its tusks met only air. Clutching onto your Rebar Club and standing back up, you faced what looked to have been once a Lil' Oink that Stompadompolus told you about. Except it was gigantic, baring tusks, and had two heads. You had seen pictures of Lil' Oinks in books back in the Vault, and what you were standing before did not appear anywhere near what you saw in those old pictures. To make matters worse, this beast was mad as hell, and even while you weren't the one to have pissed it off to such a degree, you were the only one around to bear its rage.

It seemed that the cemetery as well as the camp of mutants, would have to wait.

What will you do?


BATTLE!


NOTES/RUMORS ADDED


NUMBER OF MOVES LEFT IN CYCLE: 2
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Atticus
Administrator
Orin and Wister

Location: The Wasteland (Rogueport's Region)
Music: --

Wister

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zu6TpPj6JvQ (Radio Rogueport Vegas)

You and Orin had already departed Mushroom Express, and were headed to the general direction where this locker was supposed to be. There was no point in leaving a stone unturned before you headed towards Twilight Town. After all, who knows how long it'll take you to return. You weren't exactly sure what would even be in the locker, to be honest. Something that could be traded, you hoped. Looking back at the note, the words "stosh" and "treasur" could have meant anything. But considering the Goomba you had stolen this note from had been drunk off his ass, you figured it was probably either booze or some sort of drugs. While often, you weren't quite as eager as Orin is, you still couldn't help but feel a bit anxious to see what was in the footlocker.

Orin: Did that note say anything about where exactly this thing is? Or... if it's buried, or something?

Wister: Apart from it being west of the city somewhere, no. It said that it's well hidden and has a quote, "hard to crack lock". We're west of the city as it is... it's probably somewhere around here.

Orin: Well, what the hell are we going to do? Just root around randomly in the dirt until we find--agh!

You turned around at the sound of the commotion Orin was making, to see that he was on the ground. Near his foot, part of something was sticking out of the dirt... no doubt what he had tripped over. You didn't even need to actually pull it out of the ground to know that it was most likely the footlocker. Still, you couldn't help yourself but give Orin a little bit of a hard time even still.

Wister: And your rogue-like grace saves the day!

Orin: Goddamned smart ass...

Once Orin stood and dusted himself off a bit, you cooperatively dug the footlocker out a little bit, at least to the point where you both could drag it out of the dry earth. Thankfully, although, a bit worryingly, it had not been far enough down for you to require a shovel. It was worrying because according to the note, the footlocker had been "well hidden". The first red flag emerged within your mind, as you and Orin set it down on the ground and wiped the dirt off of its top side. Yet another red flag arose a second or two later, when you noticed that the footlocker's lock had already been broken. Orin had noticed this as well.

Orin: So much for well hidden with a hard to crack lock.

Doubt had already found its way into your mind the moment you had seen the footlocker, yet you tried to cling to what you knew had seemed too good to be true. After all, when you and Orin had lifted the footlocker, it had been at least a bit heavy.

Orin: Well... there has to be something still inside...

You heard his words only a moment or two late, and instinctively tried to stop Orin before he opened the footlocker but failed. He threw open the footlocker's lid, and while you had expected something to happen... an explosion from the active mines no doubt likely stuffed inside, or perhaps some foul wasteland beast emerging and tearing Orin's head off, what followed was only a second or two of silence. Then...

Orin: Hell of a stash this is. Look.

You drew closer to the footlocker and saw what was inside. There was nothing but what looked like a bunch of crushed up tin cans and what appeared to be a half eaten Dry Shroom?

Wister: All of that walking just for... wait, shit. Get your weapon out!

Sure enough, when you looked away from the footlocker and Orin, there were several Goombas dressed in rags that appeared to be smeared with blood. Damn.

Goomba Raider One: Another couple of dumbass Bandits fall for our trick again.

Goomba Raider Two: Of course. Everyone knows Bandits do nothing but steal. A drunk Goomba passed out right in the open, of course they'd jump on that opportunity...

Orin sighed next to you, and his voice took on a disgusted and offended tone.

Orin: It's always the Bandits that get targeted... it's really starting to be bullshit.

Goomba Raider One: Well, obviously they get targeted. After all, you're here because one of you took our pal's note last night, aren't you? Thief steals from raider... raider kills thief and takes all of his possessions. Bandit, Yoshi... hell, Creep... makes no difference.

Goomba Raider Three: Pah! Who fuckin' cares! We would have attacked you even if you had walked by the footlocker! The Horde be damned! It's the Golden Goombas that own Glitz's End!

All of a sudden, Orin simply burst out laughing.

Orin: Golden Goombas? Are you serious?

Goomba Raider Two: For the last time, we're the Underling Union! Not the damned Golden Goombas.

Goomba Raider Three: How are we supposed to terrify anyone with that name? We're not a damned union, and I sure as hell am not an underling!

Orin: Goombas are basically the definition of the word underling...

Wister: Besides, you guys are literally armed with baseball bats and busted looking pistols... I've seen rats in the Vault more terrifying than you.

Orin: Hey Wister, maybe we should try to jump on their heads.

Goomba Raider Three: Oh, that fuckin' tears it...




Well, what will they do?

BATTLE!


NUMBER OF MOVES LEFT IN CYCLE: 2
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Khan

Jake and Sammy

Location: The Wasteland (Toadtown's Region)
Music: https://yourepeat.com/watch?v=xi9OJCYeAuo&list=PL875B205D312E5EF4

Jake

Sammy: Jake! Distract it for a second!

You dodged the robot's swinging buzzsaw and slashed its arm, your cutlass clanging against the metal. Sammy side-stepped and headed for the robot's back, gibbering like a madman.

Jake: Oi, Sammy, why do I always have to be the bait?

Sammy: Just trust me! This might work!

The Mr. Handy spotted Sammy with his third eye and blew a gust of flames in his direction. Sammy dropped to the floor and narrowly avoided being cooked alive inside his metal armor. You took this opportunity to slash again at the robot, hitting one of its eyes and causing it to dangle by its hinges.

Jake: Hey! If you don't leave him alone, I'll spill some coffee on the carpet!

Malfunctioning Mr. Handy: You wouldn't dare!

The robot turned again and grabbed your neck with its hand. You gasped for air as it lowered its buzzsaw towards you, slashing the arm holding you over and over with your cutlass. Behind your assailant you could see Sammy lunge at the robot's back panel and try to hold it down.

Malfunctioning Mr. Handy: Unhand me, ruffian!

Sammy had pulled out a spork and tried loosening a panel on the back of the Mr. Handy, but was shaken from his position by an electric shock from the metal tool channeling through his metal armor. The robot quickly spun around and turned its flamethrower at Sammy.

Sammy: Wha-

Malfunctioning Mr. Handy: Heat until golden brown, serves 8.

You leapt forward with your cutlass and tried to slash-knock the flamethrower away so it would miss its target, and succeeded. Flames hit Sammy in the foot, but missed coating him completely. The Samurai Guy retaliated by chucking his Dusty Hammer at the Mr. Handy, hitting it in one of its eyes and knocking it off as the robot itself slammed against the ground.

Jake: Now's our chance, go!

Sammy: Banzai!

Both you and Sammy rushed the downed robot, you with your cutlass and Sammy using the studded maul. It didn't get a chance to get up, before long the Mr. Handy was scrap metal. You and Sammy grabbed a few pieces of scrap from the husk that was salvageable and moved on, pressing forward to Kindling. Albeit, a bit more wounded.


Sammy

Location: Kindling (Exterior; Toadtown's Region)
Music: http://youtu.be/SMIfZt12NNg

The town wasn't far off now.

Jake: That was some plan you had there, mate. Almost put an apple in your mouth and sold you to some cannibals.

Sammy: I must brush up on my hacking.

Jake: Well, after you stopped messing around with the spork, I'd say quite a bit of hacking went on.

Jake laughed to himself, and you paused to think about it for a second before giving a delayed chuckle.

Sammy: Hmmm.... Well, it was a worth a shot, no? A mighty robot companion would have been most helpful.

The Master: I put many sporks in electric sockets as a child, apprentice. It happens.

Jake patted you on the shoulder and smirked. You noticed he seemed to be limping a bit, and cringed a little.

Jake: Alright Sammy, when we get there, let me do most of the talking. I've been here before.

Sammy: Think we should mention the cap or Wolf Man?

Jake shrugged.

Jake: Nah. Information isn't free, we give only what they want.

You nodded in response as you both strolled in from the side of the camp and walked up to the front of the library. The armor clad Shy Brotherhood members in the camp gave you disinterested looks and glares. Some unusual looking creature with a brown cloak emerged from Kindling before you got there, and walked out and into the wasteland in a huff. Strange, but you both had honorable business to attend to.

Approaching the front gate, Jake held out his arms and smiled.


Jake: Hey, hey, my fine guardsmen. I, the esteemed Jake Robins, have returned with my new friend with news of Mario's Town. Finally.

Toad Guard 1: Oh look, it's the annoying guy from before who talks funny. With Prince Podley in a can.

Your pirate friend did an exaggerated bow to the guard.

Jake: Be still my heart, dearest Ran. T. May you never lose your charming nature. But as you and Terry T. know, we have business. So we can't engage in much deep fulfilling conversation.

Terry T.: So what happened to our scavenger? Your friend isn't him, should I assume the worst?

Jake: Yes, he was long dead by our arrival. Some raiders had him hooked up to a trap and everything. Nothing was on him either.

Both of the guards cursed under their breath at hearing that. You were glad that Jake decided to leave out the thing about tearing their friend's head off and using it as a distraction.

Ran. T.: Goddamn savages.

Terry T.: Well, you tried. I suppose it's not your fault. We'll let you enter and your friend too, if you trust him, and you can give the Elder greater detail on what happened, as well as possibly track down what he was supposed to bring back.

You wondered what they went him after that was so important.

Sammy: What was he supposed to bring back?

Ran. T.: Ask the Elder. We don't know, it's not our business.

Terry T. threw Jake a small pouch.

Terry T.: There's your reward. You can share it with your friend if you want, but we're not made of things we can give away willy nilly for people we didn't even originally intend to hire for the same job.

Jake: That's fine.

The two Toad guards stepped aside and you both entered the library.


Location: Kindling (Reception; Toadtown's Region)
Music: http://youtu.be/D2NZz8JawHY

This place smelled bad, like learning or something foul like that. Light from outside shone into the building from windows and skylights, you weren't sure if the lights that hung overhead worked or not. The area you were in had more Toad and Yoshi guards milling about in armchairs or or sitting at tables, some playing cards or five finger fillet. There was a reception desk with terminals and some offices behind it. Across the way seemed to be a maze-like hedge of bookcases, a lot of which seemed to be empty. The bookcases continued on all the way upstairs too for an undetermined length. You also saw a small section with more terminals on it. In the center was a statue of a Toad holding a closed book and dressed in a robe wearing glasses, with his other hand he was pointing up at a slant. There didn't immediately seem to be a red beret guy around. Perhaps you could find that Elder somewhere, or get some information from the people.


Well, what will they do?


Jake-

COMBAT XP GAINED: +4 XP

QUEST COMPLETE


QUEST XP GAINED: +6 XP

HP CHANGE: -2 HP (Combat); -1 HP (Moderate Bleeding)

INVENTORY CHANGE: Cutlass (Very Low Condition)

GAINED: 15 Coins, Dried Shroom, Stylish Swing (Badge), Sleepy Sheep

NUMBER OF MOVES LEFT IN CYCLE: --

Sammy-

COMBAT XP GAINED: +4 XP

HP CHANGE: -3 HP

GAINED: 2x Scrap Metal, Buzzsaw Blade, Broken Flamethrower

LOST: Dusty Hammer

LEVEL UP: Level 3- Wistful Seeker; choose to upgrade HP, FP, or BP.

NUMBER OF MOVES LEFT IN CYCLE: --
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Atticus
Administrator
Rip

Location: Kindling (Toadtown's Region)
Music: https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=5vcpdvdcrxw

Rip: Libraries are for nerds!

You promptly turned around indignantly and marched back outside.


Location: Kindling (Exterior; Toadtown's region)
Music: http://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=6iy2O1V1Lvk&feature=youtu.be

You departed the stinking library and started heading north. As you departed, you saw two figures approaching Kindling in the distance, one limping in a Vault jumpsuit and the other in metal armor. Probably assassins, which is why it was best to move on.

The guards had sighed with relief when you walked back outside a minute or two after they had begrudgingly let you in.



Location: The Wasteland (Toadtown's Region)
Music: -- (Keep music)

They all thought you were a bumbling idiot, perhaps even insane. Even that honorable madfellow No-Bark had stated you were most likely a victim of Wasteland Madness. But why should you trust him? He's quite obviously a bit crazy himself, and only downright lunatics trust fellow crazy people. The whole Wasteland Madness was quite obviously just a lie, no doubt to slander you, Rip Cheato's, glorious name. After all, if you were in fact insane, you would know it. Like some dead guy said a long time ago, cogato ego sumo. I think I am sane, therefore I am. Or something or other.

This train of thought had started with little to no planned designation, preemptively already off the rails, but all of a sudden, it had climbed back onto the rails and launched off. Damn right you weren't insane! You were intelligent and perceptive. So you were a little bit rough around the edges and sometimes had episodes, and found yourself paranoid of even yourself, but that was just a part of the Rip Cheato charm. If you were indeed such a nutty bad person, then would you have went and did that stupid guard's chore, even though it was quite obviously meant to be a deathtrip? That bag of stinking meat which turned out to be No-Bark's dinner was obviously meant to be night chupacabra chum. But still, even though you had sniffed out this obvious nefariousness, you had still went along with the job, and they had even rewarded you and let you enter their little community. Of course, it helped that the day guards basically told you this once you had returned, but you preferred to pretend that they hadn't and you had figured it out all beforehand. The important thing was that despite the quality of the job, it had earned your way into their community.

Which you then proceeded to leave almost immediately, because you had predicted what would have resulted if you had stayed. There would be more sneaky sorts like the guards in the town, all requesting you to do grunt work or go on suicide trips. If you survived and stayed, you would have eventually become the town clown courier or dead. They wanted to trap the gloriousness that was Rip Cheato and make him nothing but a pitiful slave, while... while that purplish blob was somewhere out here, planning and scheming against you. You would not allow it! Additionally, what of the Mapkin? You would not rest until you found what grand secrets it would lead to. You would not be able to do that if you were stuck in some dirty library.

So thus, you chose to walk north again. This time under the unforgiving wasteland sun rather than the cool dark of night. You weren't all that far from where No-Bark's abode was before you heard what sounded like someone screaming something, over and over again. You turned around, and suddenly, you saw something standing before you. Something you hadn't seen since the days of lurking around Toad Town and plotting against your purplish nemesis. Something that even made you almost freeze in disgust, a person that had known only a dumpster his home for decades and decades.

http://youtu.be/1Wm63E83EKg

Standing before you in a ragged and ripped blue Vault-Tec jumpsuit stood a Doogan. He was holding what appeared to be an old meat tenderizer, and in his eyes, you saw true Wasteland Madness. There was a metal collar around his neck that read thirty four. Slowly and creepily, a low sound emerged from its bloody mouth, almost as if he was growling it.


Strange Doogan: Gaaaaaaar... Gaaaaaaar... Gary.

Oh, that was its name. Gary. Perhaps it had been following you from the shadows with the intention of just wanting to introduce itself to you. Even though last night you had actually tried to save the life of an explosive device, you were smart enough or not insane enough to know that quite obviously, this was not the case. Still, you would oblige it as long as it kept its distance, but you had a firm grip of your bungee cord just in case. You didn't like how he was looking at you with that meat tenderizer in his hand. All the same, you turned the dial of that good old Rip Cheato charm to its maximum and prepared to calm this no doubt cannibal.

Rip: Hello, fellow wastelander. My name is Rip Cheato.

Blisterine: For all those thoughts about not being crazy, you're literally currently trying to introduce yourself to a savage.

Gary 34: Gary? Gary!

Rip: Yes... Gary is your name, and Rip is mine.

Gary 34: Gary! Gary, Gary, Gary!

Rip: Yes, that's you. I'm Rip. Rip.

Tubs: Oh Star Spirits, they're stuck in a loop.

Gary 34: Gaaaaaaaary! Gaaaaaarrrrry!

Rip: Oh yeah well... Rip! Rip! I am the one that is Rip! You are the one that is Gary but I am the one that is Rip! RIP!

Stabby: I wish I was alive so I could then die.

Suddenly, it seemed as if the Gary had decided that he had enough arguing, because he took a swipe at you with his meat mallet. Thankfully, you had a second or so before it almost hit and succeeded to dodge it. Bungee cord versus mallet. You probably had better reach, but you really didn't want to get another meat mallet embedded into your head. Not after last time.

Rip: I hope you know that you're the insane one here, fellow.

Gary 34: Gaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry!

At least you knew now that there were those more less sane than you out here. Although, you weren't too sure if that was reassuring or frightening... perhaps a bit of both.

Well, what will you do?


BATTLE!


NOTES/RUMORS


NUMBER OF MOVES LEFT IN CYCLE: 1
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Khan

Viviana

Location: The Wasteland (Bowser's Region)
Music: https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=BNj2BXW852g

Left, right. Left, right. Left, right. You and your fellow religious adherents stoically marched across the black lands of Bowser, heads bowed in the sunlight, arms held close to the chest in deep focus. Your company's humming resonated and seemed to echo with the wasteland wind, following the notes of some long forgotten hymn. You have lived a nomadic life in the wasteland ever since joining up with your brothers in faith after they visited your tribal village where you spent most of your childhood, and you could barely remember how it felt to not have dust kicking up at your heels.

Your covenant was one of the few groups around that still had faith in the Star Spirits above. After the bombs fell and the land lay down in agony, most thought the heavens had forsaken them. But not you and your fellows; you guys saw it merely as a cleansing of the world's collective sins, and as just punishment for an overly decadent and not humble society. The light of the future stood in a life of frugality and temperance. After an unsuccessful tour in the NMR and a trip around Horde territory up North, you had arrived in Sons of Bowser territory to try and make the Koopa King remnants atone for their part in the war long ago. Koopolis wasn't far now.

Somebody in your group spoke up that they wanted to stop and rest. A middle aged blue Yoshi named Sister Beatrice.


Sister Beatrice: Can we rest for a few minutes by those stones? My feet hurt pretty bad.

The group kept walking as Sister Beatrice talked. The leader of your group, an aging Goomba Father Thomas replied without turning.

Father Thomas: I suppose it couldn't hurt if we rested for a while. We can pray while we receive our earthly hospitality.

This irked you. as a Pianta, your natural instinct was to have high standards and dislike inefficiency. After all, you could see Koopolis from here. It was definitely reachable before nightfall if you went now.

Sister Viviana: Father Thomas, is it necessary that we rest? We can take solace at our destination, while we're bringing the light to these godless barbarians.

Father Thomas waved a hand, still looking forward from the front of the group.

Father Thomas: Nay, child. There'll be water if the stars will it. Perhaps a moment of reflection beforehand will do us all some good.

Reluctantly, you resigned yourself. Maybe he was right.

You and the other 15-odd members of your covenant walked to some nearby rocks and stood on the far side of the sun. You all knelt down on your knees and hummed.


Father Thomas: Now, let us pray.

Not a few seconds after you all began your ritual did footsteps sound from behind you all. Then the gunshots. As you tried to stand up, you felt a force strike your neck, and then everything went black.


https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=3-VKfbZKeq0

Blackness and pain engulfed everything. Though you realized you could feel again. You woke up. You struggled to open your eyes, and when you did, you saw the glazed over faces and limp bodies of your traveling companions laying in a heap on and around you. You were about to scream, but then you heard voices. Among them was Sister Beatrice, and two male voices.

Sister Beatrice: I'm free at least! Free! I'll never have to deal with those annoying monks forcing me to march all day and eat gruel in the middle of dogshit city ever again! Hahah!

Male Voice 1: Fuck the Sons. Just stick with us, and we'll make this side of the wasteland our own personal playground. Ain't that right, Sri?

Sri: Ah, shit man. Shit. I was fine with it up until we did it. Was it really necessary man? I don't know....

Sister Beatrice: Ah, shut the fuck up, Sri. You didn't have to live with them, you don't know what it's like.

That cunt. Beatrice had sold you and your friends out to some vagrants from the last town. They seemed to be occupied somewhere else on the other side of the rocks. This was your chance to escape.

You looked down and noticed that you were not only wounded, but completely naked. As were the rest of the bodies. Not having your weapon or your supplies complicated things, but you would worry about that afterward. Wiggling free and trying to quietly shove the corpses off, you slowly climbed from the pile of your dead.


Male Voice 1: The rest of the boys in the crew are on sentry duty, watching out for Sons Legionnaires. We should probably burn the bodies quick and scram.

Sister Beatrice: Bah, do we really need to do it right now? I haven't seen you since we stopped in Shadis. Perhaps we could sneak into that Vault tunnel nearby and spend some alone time.

Sri: You guys have got to be fucking kidding me.

While the traitor and her cohorts bickered about their next course of action, you moved the corpses off you and quietly got up. Everything hurt, and your mind was a bit hazy, but you knew you had to get out of here while you could. You limped in the opposite direction of the voices, hoping they wouldn't see you. However, you didn't make it far. Around thirty or so feet from the rocks where you had knelt to pray not long ago, you fell to the ground with a thud, and everything went black again.


https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=e1dsO2t7_Q4

Consciousness crept back into your brain once more. And you woke up with a start, half expecting to be back on the body pile and being set on fire. But there was no fire, and no bodies near you. No lit fire anyway. You were laying in the shade inside a small crevice in the ground. A small footlocker was nearby with a note on it next to the remains of a formerly lit fire. Who knows how long you were out. And what happened to Beatrice and her pals. You reached for the note and read it, noticing you were no longer naked, but wearing filthy rags.

"Hey there, lady.

If you're reading this, odds are you're alive. Great. You're very fortunate I'm not pretty much anybody else in the wasteland, and decided to drag you to safety when that firefight broke out between the Sons and those raiders. People scattered all about, some fleeing into the plains, it was pretty wild. You must've been part of that group of people who were in the body pile that got burned. Sorry, I guess.

My name is Gage Fel, and I'm a... contraband smuggler here in Sons territory. Maybe we'll run into each other again sometime. If we do, you owe me a drink.

P.S. I left you some supplies in one of my old footlockers, including a Pep Boy I traded from somebody up North a while back. Try not to waste them. Especially the syringe, my products usually don't go for so cheap."

Viviana: Well, it could've been worse, I suppose.

You tossed aside the note and opened the locker, retrieving some badges, a needle labelled "Feelin' Fine", a tourniquet, a rusty chain whip, and... a pristine mushroom? That's rarely seen these days. This Gage fellow must be doing pretty well for himself if he can afford to give that away.

You were about to turn and leave but noticed a device at the bottom of the locker that looked like a Pep Boy some Vault Dwellers had. You immediately put it on and played with it for a while, checking your vital signs and storing your new gear.

As you stood up and looked out to the wasteland, seeing the pile of charred corpses in the distance that were once your friends, and probably some of your assailants, you vowed to get revenge on Beatrice and her conspirators some day, somehow, if they still lived.

Out in the distance as far as you could see in the midday sun was Koopolis, the town you were originally heading to before the fight, some tents a bit outside that to the Northish direction, the area outside the sealed Vault where you had stopped to rest, a large factory pretty far in the distance, and lastly, a rocky natural formation directly North.

Well, what will you do?


GAINED (starting) INVENTORY
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Atticus
Administrator
Trubba

Location: The Wasteland (Bowser's Region)
Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lcm9qqo_qB0 (Voice of Bowser)

You had only a moment or two to think as the Warthog Oink propelled itself at you. Of course, you were not the most agile wastelander, but you had still managed to avoid getting a tusk through the chest. It felt like you were a bit quicker than previously though, and in the process of dodging the Warthog Oink's charge, you took a daring swipe at its legs with your trusty Rebar Club. Luckily enough, you managed to hit at least one of its legs, although you had been aiming for two. Unfortunately however, while the Oink did in fact now have a bit of a limp, it had only become even angrier. It lowered its heads once more, and charged at you again. This time you hadn't been able to get entirely out of the way and was struck partially by it. A couple of bruises was still better than being gored. Still, you didn't want to toy around with this damned Oink any longer, so when it got close to you the next time, you activated your VATS badge, aimed for the head closest to you, and took your best swing.

With a sickening sound, you smashed the Warthog Oink's left head entirely into mulch, with brains and blood smattering the ground and your jumpsuit. But amazingly, somehow, the Warthog Oink still drew breath, although it was not in a good condition. Blood pouring from what used to be its second head, it took some slow wobbly steps towards you, trying to bring itself to a stable position so it could charge at you one more time. Somewhat sickened by all of the bits and pieces that had ended up landing on you, you sought to end the Warthog Oink's suffering rather than simply watch as it slowly died in such a pitiful and gruesome state. You approached it, and took one more final swing, not even bothering to use VATS this time. The Rebar Club connected with your target, and you were met with that same disgusting sound again, and the Warthog Oink's remains crumbled to the ground lifelessly. A skilled hunter you were not, yet even though you had partially felt bad when you saw the Warthog Oink still trying to fight despite having lost one of its heads, you knew it would have been foolish to walk away without taking something from the Warthog Oink to make this battle have a point. Yet, you were not entirely enthusiastic about what you would have to do to claim your reward. Putting your Rebar Club on the ground for a moment and bringing out your Bowie Knife, you prepared to withdraw some meat from the Warthog Oink.

A worrisome thought crossed your mind as you were cutting. What if this creature had belonged to that mutant camp? The last thing you wanted was to be chased by angry bunch of mutants after having so gruesomely killing their pet. Still, the Warthog Oink seemed anything but domesticated. While there had been plenty of meat left on the Warthog Oink, you only took one rather large meaty slab from it. Partially because if you wanted to collect all the meat you could from it, you'd be here until tomorrow, and additionally, carrying that much meat would most likely make you quite an attractive target for the wildlife. However, as you put your Bowie Knife away and picked up your Rebar Club again, you eyes were drawn to the tusks of the fallen beast. A Warthog Oink tusk would no doubt probably be valuable to the right person. So with a bit of force, you managed to break off most of one of the Warthog Oink's tusks. You would have perhaps took the second one, if it hadn't been shattered by the force of your club.

Maybe you would visit the mutant camp some later day, but if you stopped there now, you would be wasting precious daylight, and something told you that you didn't want to make this journey during the night.

You turned from the carcass, and continued on with your journey. Nothing else worthy of note happened beyond the Warthog Oink attacking you happened, though. Which suited you, just fine. Walking a long trek with nothing but the wasteland winds and the music coming from your Pep-Boy radio accompanying you was better than having to fight your way north. Walking north from where the mutant camp had been, you took note of the surrounding areas. Across the way way out in the distance was a large fortlike structure with the telltale black stone of Bowser. Northeast of you was yet another factory, although, it looked different in comparison to Bullet Bill's. It had a yellowish-orange faded paint job, and had a large bottle like structure out front. Try as you might, but you could not read the sign from afar. While you had certainly profited from the last factory you explored, you had came north for the cemetery. Or, the ossuary.



Location: Underling Ossuary (Bowser's Region)
Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vxWhP-RM8v4 (Voice of Bowser)

After a lot of walking, you had finally arrived before a rusted gate above which read a similarly rusted sign that read "Underling Ossuary". The gate had already been left open, and inside, you walked. If you had tried to, you would have been unable to count exactly how many gravestones you saw. There were rows and rows of them, and even as you looked at them, you wondered how many had been put in these graves by the Plumbers, and how many had been put here by the conflicts that followed their deaths which eventually led up to the Great War. There were also a handful of stone tombs, as well as a rickety wooden shack on the far side of the cemetery. A large stone building with eerie statues and numerous chimneys was off in the back corner. Outside of the ossuary to the north was a single hill overlooking it, upon which sat a tall yet dead and charred tree. You took one step forwards, and heard a crunch underneath of your foot. You lifted your foot, and saw that you had stepped on the skull of a Koopa, lying in the dirt. It served as a perfect reminder of the danger that no doubt lurked somewhere among the numerous rows of graves and tombstones. According to the recording of the holotape, the ghosts only made themselves visible at night. And while you did not see any such swarm of Dry Bones that the dying man had been screaming about in the recording, you did not doubt that there were likely some, hiding among the gravestones.

From your position, you looked at a few gravestones. One epitaph wrote "Is this your card?" and showed a three of clubs. Another said, "In peace, a son buries his father; in war, a father buries his son". A third said simply, "Go away, I'm asleep".

Something told you that you may want to be very cautious, and that this Ossuary would become extremely dangerous at night, if that was when the majority of the Dry Bones came out. You weren't entirely sure how to proceed, but you thought maybe you should try and find the man that had recorded the message, if he was still in one intact piece. The Ossuary was large, however. Was he somewhere outside, in one of the tombs, or the wooden shack?

You stood and contemplated your next move, as the music from your Pep Boy echoed through the silent halls of the dead.

Well, what will you do?


GAINED: Warthog Oink Meat, Warthog Oink Tusk

HP CHANGE: -2 HP

FP CHANGE: -1 FP

COMBAT XP GAINED: +3 XP

LOCATION DISCOVERED: Underling Ossuary +2 XP

LEVEL UP: Wistful Seeker; choose to upgrade HP, FP, or BP.

NUMBER OF MOVES LEFT IN CYCLE: 1
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Atticus
Administrator
Orin and Wister

Location: The Wasteland (Rogueport's Region)
Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zsgcXZzu6io (Radio Rogueport Vegas)

Orin

The fight began very suddenly, each one involved making their move almost seemingly simultaneous. However, your attention was turned to one of the Goombas holding a nail bat, who had already actually been heading your way on his own. He took a swing towards you, but since you had seen the little bugger coming, you had been prepared to take a step or two backwards to avoid it. When the bat passed where it could have struck you, you lunged forwards grabbing a hold of it, attempting to wrest it away from the Goomba.

Golden Goomba One: Hey, fuck off! You're the ones who are supposed to be getting robbed here!

Orin: Yeah well, if I'm going to be called a thief by literally everyone out here, even other thieves, I'll be damned if I don't actually steal shit from someone!

You were somewhat surprised that there was actual genuine frustration in your voice when you said that.

Golden Goomba One: A little help over here!

Your vision of the others and Wister was very limited while you were locked in conflict with this Golden Goomba, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw one of the Goombas wielding pistols getting just about ready to fire at you suddenly drop his pistol, as a bullet flew into his hand. You would have to thank Wister once this was over. With your mind turned back to closer concerns, you punched the Golden Goomba still trying to do his damndest to keep a hold of his bat right in the face, finally causing him to let go of it. Swearing, as he stumbled backwards as a result of the punch, he tripped over his own feet and collapsed in the dirt. He was down but not out, causing you to smack him in the head with your newly acquired nail bat, which did the trick well enough. The nail of the bat was covered in a red that it had most likely become accustomed to over the years.

Now that you had a weapon with a bit more reach, you went after the Golden Goombas with a pistol, with the intention of perhaps saving Wister the way he had saved you. Nothing heroic, of course, it was just better to not have unpaid debts. Besides, if Wister dies, you'll have to make this entire dangerous trek on your own. Your attention turned to the Golden Goomba Wister had already shot and spotted that he was reloading, and doing so with a hand that had a bullet in it was a bit challenging. You kept your head low and started towards him, as the sounds of gunfire continued. Although, it sounded as if only the Golden Goomba had been firing. You took a split second to look over to Wister's side of this impromptu wasteland battlefield, and saw the other Golden Goomba with the nail bat attacking him. Damn. Although, it was already too late to change targets now. The Golden Goomba reloading his pistol looked up just as you were upon him, with your nail bat raised.


Golden Goomba Two: What the f...

Orin: Lights out, mushroom!




Wister

You had just shot the Golden Goomba that was about to shoot Orin in the hand. You had actually been aiming for his head, but you had bigger problems, as the other Golden Goomba with the nail bat struck your shoulder with, thankfully, the side of his bat that had no nails. Even though you did not have a nail through your shoulder, the strike had been forceful enough to send you to the ground and drop your revolver. You saw the Golden Goomba standing over you, readying another forceful blow. As he attempted to smash your head open by bringing the nail bat down, you rolled out of the way and got back up. You had quickly retrieved your butcher knife from your pocket by the time he realized you were not where he had struck. Launching towards him, you planted your butcher knife deep into his neck. The scream lasted only a second as you drove the knife further. He was dead, but as you retrieved your revolver once more, you quickly found that the fight was not over.

Orin had killed the Golden Goomba that you had shot in the hand, that was clearly visible, judging from the nail bat that was still stuck in his head by the nail. That left one Golden Goomba with a pistol and he was firing at Orin who had initially tried to get his nail bat unstuck, then tried to reach for the now gruesomely dead Golden Goomba's pistol, but was now simply trying to avoid getting shot by running around wildly. You proceeded to move a bit closer and as you did so, you heard the constantly moving Orin yelp out in pain. It looked as if a bullet had grazed him for even now he continued to duck and dodge, albeit a bit slower due to a limp. The last Golden Goomba turned his attention towards you, and the shootout between you two began. It seemed like it was much longer than it actually was while in the moment, but in reality, it lasted only a couple of seconds. The Golden Goomba had only a couple of rounds left before he had to reload due to shooting at Orin, while you had only fired your revolver once before being attacked by the nail bat Golden Goomba. You had five shots left, and it only took you three to bring down the last Golden Goomba as you still made a concentrated effort to avoid the last shots he had.

One of your shots missed, the second had missed as a result of having to dodge one of the Golden Goomba's shots, and the third had landed through his cheek and exited the back of his head. He lay on the ground twitching for a few seconds, and then was motionless.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c0_eRVroLqs (Radio Rogueport Vegas)

You walked over to Orin, who was ignoring his wounds to spit on the dead Goombas and loot the two bodies near him.

Wister: You okay, Orin?

Orin: Yeah, just a flesh wound. I'm more concerned about what these sods have on them.

Orin wriggled the body he was accosting out of his armor, before stopping for a second and turning around with three bottles of whiskey.

Orin: How about that? This wasn't an entire bust.

Wister: They were probably drunk while fighting us. It explains the terrible aim.

Orin: The fact that they made it this long while being this incompetent is surprising.

You reached into the pockets of the dead Goomba and pulled out a scrap of paper.

Wister: Huh. Check this out.

"Be ready by the decoy stash sometime within a day or so. The dirty bandit took the bait and should be there soon. Get him good for me, I'm going to get a real drink.

Barek"

Orin: Hmm, maybe we'll have to give this Barek a visit next time we're in town if he thinks he can cheat us.

Your memory of killing Howard shot back into your mind for a second, before you shook it off.

Wister: We'll see what happens. But for now we have business. Let's go.

You both stripped the corpses and continued your way West, richer by two almost broken .32 pistols, three bottles of whiskey, two cigarettes, two nail bats, four sets of damaged Raider Scrap Armor, and of course, the dry shroom from the locker.


Orin

You and Wister went back on the road now that the excursion to the locker had turned out to be relatively fruitless. Your inner thief and treasure hunter was saddened by the lack of loot, but perhaps there'd be more auspicious pastures ahead.

You both walked past a looming, ominous fort of scrap not far North, and a green factory to the South with a smokestack shaped like an arm clutching a wrench. Neither of you were interested in those locations for now though, as you were focused on finding Twilight Town, which your Pep-Boys indicated was farther to go. The brown and gray barren land soon began to give way to softer earth and mud the farther you went West. Soon there were expanses of marshlands covered by a light fog coat. Dead, barren trees and spiky brambles started very scarce but soon began to populate the land more and more. This area gave you an odd feeling of paranoia and a voided feeling in your gut.

You abandoned your thoughts of how you planned on potentially killing Wister if you ever needed to in the future someday completely, instead being overcome with a blindsighting sense of wonder and curiosity. You had never seen water in one place before, and even though you normally considered yourself above sentiments like that, the sound struck you deeply. That is, until you saw the river itself. Then you felt an odd sense of relief as your jaded view of the world came back into place.

You and Wister stood on the river bank of what was indeed water, that was in fact running, but.... it was a sickly dark green color. Whether from some sort of algae or what, this water looked a bit viscous and gave off an odor of charcoal. Wister's expectant face had sunken back to a sober expression.


Orin: Are you really surprised? Honestly?

Wister: I guess not.

The water seemed like it'd be a challenge to cross, even if you wanted to. It seemed to be running from a larger lake you could vaguely see to the North. Across the river in the distance was a large cathedral looking building, and to the South on your side of the river was a quaint town with simple faded white and brown buildings that had columns and some had two stories or decks. The town seemed to be built right along the river, but finer details were not visible from here due to the fog and distance.

The Pep-Boy pointed South from here.

Well, what will you do?


Wister

HP CHANGE: -2 HP

LOST: 3 Ammo

GAINED: .32 Pistol (Very Low Condition), Nail Bat, 2x Raider Scrap Armor (Damaged), Dry Shroom, Bottle of Whiskey, 2x Cigarettes.

COMBAT XP GAINED: +3 XP

KARMA GAINED: +50 Karma

NOTES/RUMORS ADDED


Orin

HP CHANGE: -3 HP

GAINED: .32 pistol (very low condition), Nail Bat, 2x Bottles of Whiskey, 2x Raider Scrap Armor (Damaged).

COMBAT XP GAINED: +3 XP

KARMA GAINED: +50 Karma

NOTES/RUMORS ADDED
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Khan

Viviana

Location: The Wasteland (Bowser's Region)
Music: https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=EaRiY7WkMhw&list=PLC0C2A6BCA6040BC8

Viviana: By the stars, I'll get my divine retribution and avenge my covenant! Now where would those infidels have hidden away?

You surveyed the landscape and noticed a collection of tents with a few hulking figures moving about in the North. Hmmm.... The Sons probably wouldn't be harboring them in Koopolis, unless they were getting nailed to a cross right now. No, they probably were fleeing North to the areas near Rogueport to hideout and fence their goods. Maybe whoever was at that camp would have seen them, and you can spread the word of the Star Spirits to these filthy heathens.

Father Thomas was a devout man, a good servant of the Stars, but he was too easy on the non-believers. The faith would never get anywhere turning the other cheek and loving the uncivilized. What this wasteland needed was a new inquisition. And who better to start it than the most righteous, most fervent believer Sister Viviana?

You began walking North, the sun beating your back and accenting the slight aches and pains still held over from your near brush with oblivion. Aside from the wasteland wind and dust blowing across the empty landscape, the walk to the camp went without incident.



Location: Forsaken Camp (Bowser's Region)
Music: https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=ymJxYLb2QqM

As you waked up to the camp, you noticed that the occupants were unlike anything you had ever seen. They were four or five feet taller than you, muscular, hairless, with almost scaly yellowish-orange skin and stone faces. Many of them appeared to be packing huge firepower, chain guns with backpacks of ammo, hammers almost the size of you, missile launchers, clubs of cement and rebar, and flamethrowers. Compared to their firepower, they were dressed mostly in rags or scrap. At the center of the camp was a huge two-headed warthog oink being roasted on a fire pit. There were around ten or so tents made from the skin of some animal.

You had heard rumors of mutants somewhere in the wasteland before, but never believed them. You weren't sure what to make of them, or whether they'd blow you to bits on the spot and eat your flesh, but one mutant with two huge swords made from girders approached you after emerging from one of the tents. He wore a desiccated shell that had fused with his back and a leather vest.


Viviana: Hello there.... Have you time to hear the word of our Stars?

The mutant spoke in a snarl, but didn't seem hostile. Though the other occupants of the camp looked at you curiously, and with suspicion.

Mutant: Rarrgh, whaddaya want? You're not one of the Sonsh. Most people want nothing to do with ush mutants. They attack ush before they even know that we jusht want peace.

Viviana: You guys want peace? You seem to be packin' more heat than jungle fuzzies during mating season.

Mutant: You would ash well if the Sonsh kept threatening you and calling you "impure". Mord wantsh ush to negotiate shafe pashage to a place we can make home, but I, Sarcum, think we hshould try to join with the Sonsh. Trade our shtrength for shability. People'll never leave ush alone unlesh we rejoin civilization. Though they refushe to talk right now. Mosht of us losht too much mentally when changed, we cannot shurvive on our own and shtart fresh. The Sonsh are our besht bet.

Sarcum looked back at one of the tents that had a white hand biohazard symbol sloppily painted on the side

Sarcum: Then there'sh Orion. He wishesh for ush to return to the woodsh, abandon the world and join up with the othersh. Shometimesh he shtartsh to make shenseh, but I shtill believe an agreement can work. We will have no choice but to go back if nothing worksh for peace. Thish ish why we are the Forsaken, by our brothersh, by our old friendsh, and by our nature.

Hmmm, perhaps you could work out a deal with these mutants for information and confirmation to your religion.

Viviana: Well, maybe I could help you all out somehow.... For a price, and your friendship in faith.

Sarcum tilted his head towards you in thought. After a few awkward seconds of pause, he spoke.

Sarcum: Huargh, maybe you could. But we want nothing to do with your faith. It meansh nothing to us. We can either do it my way, or you can go ashk Mord or Orion what they think will work. If you have coin, you can alsho go talk to Gerrik if you want to buy shome of the heavy weaponsh we took from our brothersh to the North; he'sh the one with the welder mashk and the huge wrench by the tent closest to the fire. You are welcome here ash long ash you don't caush trouble.

Viviana: Hmm, well, give me a chance to consider my options. But have you seen any raiders shuffling by here, possibly with piss trailing down their legs? I'm on a holy mission of reclamation on their souls for what they did to me.

Sarcum: Orion, our chief watch, shaid he shaw many heading North recently. A red Clubba, and then a group of four that sheemed to bicker a lot. We don't know their deshtinationsh.

You nodded to the mutant and turned to the left to look at the horizon. Beatrice might be in that group that headed North, but the main question on your mind was whether to pursue, to assist the mutants somehow, or head somewhere else entirely. Sarcum mentioned his brothers to the North, which is the same direction the travelers he mentioned were heading. How far North any of these things were though was unknown to you.

Well, what will you do?


LOCATION DISCOVERED: Forsaken Camp +2 XP

NOTES/RUMORS ADDED


NEW QUEST ADDED


NUMBER OF MOVES LEFT IN CYCLE: 1
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Khan

Trubba

Location: Underling Ossuary (Bowser's Region)
Music: https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=eMpTaxWFmUA

You turned off your Pep-Boy radio and started to walk as carefully as you could towards the wooden shack on the far side of the cemetery from you. There was a sweet musty stench of decay on the wind. Looking at the ground as you walked to avoid disturbing more bones and make lots of noise as you walked, you even tried to soften your clunky Clubba gait by putting less weight behind each step. You walked through a central path through the headstones and reached the shack without any trouble. The tombs scattered about would need some sort of key or force to open them, if there was anything interesting inside, and if you decided to grave rob, you'd need a shovel or something. Though if this place was really haunted or infested with some shambling undead, they might not take kindly to exhumation. Plus, it felt like a shifty thing to do.

But for now, there was whatever was in the shack to deal with. It wasn't very big, and was rundown, with some spaces between the boards allowing outside air to get in. The only sturdy thing on it seemed to be the hand crafted wooden door with a metal knocker shaped like a black clawed hand. You first tried the door knob, but it was locked, so you used the knocker to see what would happen, thumping three times before you heard a voice call out from wthin the shack.


Elderly Male: Gaaah! Go away you goddamn hellspawn! I'm not opening the door! Leave me in peace!

Trubba: I'm not a hellspawn. My name is Sirius Trubba, and I've come due to a holotape I found.

There was a pause.

Elderly Male: Hol-holotape? That must've been my grandson's message. Finally, help has arrived. Are you with the Sons?

There was a click and some shifting noises, and the door opened. An elderly goomba with no hair and a long beard greeted you solemnly. He looked very unkempt and had furrows of stress lining his face.

Trubba: Uh, yes and no. I'm a Hireling that bought the tape from a merchant. What's going on here?

Elderly Goomba: You should come in, and we'll talk. The name's Medpa, by the way.

The elderly goomba stepped back to let you inside and immediately closed the door and locked it behind you.


Location: Underling Ossuary (Gravekeeper's House; Bowser's Region)
Music: https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=b_SgsNUZahI

The inside of the shack was barren. There was a small coffee table with an ash tray and a kerosene lamp, some wooden chairs and one ratty armchair, a rickety bookcase that was mostly empty, a radio, an ice box, and a bed. On one wall were some landscaping tools a set of Underling Scrap Armor, and a scimitar. You sat down on one of the wooden chairs and Medpa sat down in the armchair across from you.

Medpa: My grandson was an apprentice gravekeeper here learning with me the trade. For a while, things were going good. The Sons occasionally came by to honor an officer or a war hero or somebody, and in return for tending the grounds, we got food shipments and occasional trips into the town for R&R. But my grandson and I were cleaning out the crematorium you probably saw on the way in, and found a passageway behind one of the walls. This was a few weeks ago.

Trubba: Was there a book in there?

The old Goomba nodded, sniffling a bit in sadness as he talked.

Medpa: Turns out there was a whole catacombs beneath the cemetery we didn't know about, where a lot of the pre-war higher ups were buried in case war broke out, their remains would be safe. I dunno why, for morale purposes maybe. We found some shambling Dry Bones down there, somehow reanimated. Some just gave us vague recollections of their past lives, some ignored us, and some we had to run from or re-kill. At the center of the graveyard was a book bound in some poor sod's skin. It was called "Al Azif". At first we didn't know what to make of it, but my grandson didn't listen to my reservations and read some words from the book. Before we knew it, we were swarmed by the husks and ghosts of the past.

Trubba: What happened to your grandson? How'd his holotape end up with a pawn merchant?

Medpa sighed and shook his head.

Medpa: We were recording our exploration down there in case something happened to us. We got separated during the escape from down there, and I don't know what exactly happened to Ragve. I made it out and waited for the swarm to retreat somewhere into the depths before going back and finding it. I gave it to the last supply caravan we got to give to the Sons, but the bastard seems to have sold it instead. Fuck...

Trubba Do you know what happened to the book?

Medpa: No. Ragve was holding it during the escape, along with the tape. I fear the worst. Who knows what they're planning down there if they have the Al Azif. I'd go down there myself and rescue him, but I'm not a young soldier anymore. And to make matters worse, at night, the above ground area of the cemetery is filled with the Dry Bones and ghosts! It's a good thing you came. I'm scared to even leave my shack; thought I'd be stuck here until the dead came to take me or the Sons came back.

You stood up from your chair.

Medpa: So does that mean you'll help me get the book back? Hopefully Ragve is still alive....

Trubba: Yeah, I'll help. Do you have anything that might help me survive down there?

Your host thought for a second, and got up to grab a key from a ring hanging on the wall, and a bag of moldy breadcrumbs from a dresser drawer before handing them over.

Medpa: Here, take these. Use the crumbs to leave a trail so you don't get lost down there. And this here is the master key to any lock here in the cemetery. I have another copy, so you can keep that one.

Trubba: Thanks. I'll be back if and when I get the book back.

You were about to exit through the door, when Medpa grabbed your shoulder.

Medpa: Wait! One more very important thing. When you pick up the book from its resting place, you must recite the words: "Klaatu barada nikto". This is extremely important, or things might get really, really bad. I'm not sure what will happen, but the Al Azif didn't make it sound good. The first time we didn't do that, and it almost killed us both. The second time, I don't want to think of.

Trubba: Klaatu barada nikto. Okay, I got it.

You turned to leave again, but Medpa stopped you once more.

Medpa: Well, repeat the words. I want to make sure you don't forget.

Trubba: I got it, I got it. All because I'm a Clubba doesn't mean I'm as dumb as some of the other members of my species. Now, is there anything else?

Medpa: Good luck, Trubba. For all out sake's, I hope you remember.

You nodded and exited through the door.


Location: Underling Ossuary (Bowser's Region)
Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eMpTaxWFmUA

It still was mid-afternoon judging by your Pep-Boy clock, but on the aft end. Hopefully this whole business was sorted by nightfall, or at least, you were able to survive the night. You walked across the cemetery grounds in a mixture of thought and trepidation before reaching the crematorium. The statues of eyeless member of Bowser's old army was intimidating and creepy, but you used your key on the stone door and entered.


Location: Underling Ossuary (Crematorium; Bowser's Region)
Music: https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=h9ad6SFhn8s&list=PL942C78B5095E13BD&index=14

A smell of ash and stale air greeted you in a whoosh as the massive stone door opened. Inside the crematorium were a number of huge kilns and stone tables. More statues on the sides of the room dotted the sides of the interior. Walking through the crematorium's rows of ovens with echoing footfalls, you turned a corner and saw a collapsed wall with a dirt ramp leading down into almost pitch black darkness. At the top of the ramp were two gray, desiccated Dry Bones sentries shambling about. You tried to retreat around the corner again to plan an attack, but they screeched loud enough to near split your ears before charging immediately with bone clubs.

Dry Bones: C'mon, nyahh, let's get him.

Well, what will you do?

GAINED: Bag of Moldy Breadcrumbs (Quest Item), Ossuary Master Key.

QUEST UPDATED


NOTES/RUMORS ADDED


BATTLE!
Edited by Khan, Feb 16 2015, 03:16 PM.
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