| Paper Fallout, the story; so our ideas and the story can be in two different topics so it's not confusing | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Aug 2 2013, 03:43 PM (1,847 Views) | |
| Khan | Apr 6 2014, 07:43 PM Post #51 |
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Jake and Sammy Location: Mario's Town (Toadtown's Region) Music: http://youtu.be/dGVk_X01zaQ Sammy After reading what was left on that terminal, something seemed strange about the cap. You pulled it out and began poking it slowly, and realized the patch with the M on it seemed as if it wasn't stitched on all the way, or it had begun to come undone. You began to pull at it, and this resulted in it coming off entirely, revealing a thin piece of glass. You looked closely through it, and at the hidden camera inside. The patch had been pretty thin, so you had no doubt that the camera could see through it. From the very moment you had set your hands upon the hat, you knew there was something off about it. The extra weight had given it away almost immediately. Or perhaps, you discovered it only through your instincts as a Shy Guy. Jake then got up and seemed to be doing a bit better than he did earlier. You walked over to him by the town's central statue and showed him what you found. Sammy: This hat has a camera in it, but why? Jake: People seem to have pretty high n' mighty memories of Mario, mate. This town itself is named after him. Perhaps this "Nightshade" was working for an enemy of the Mushroom Kingdom? Make a bunch of caps that look like Mario's with cameras inside and distribute them to the people of the Mushroom Kingdom... a good way to spy on your enemies, savvy? Still, this seems pretty high tech for the Koopas. I guess this plan was a bit cut short due to the bombs. The Master: The pirate's mind is sharper than it seems. Jake: Reminds me of The Foundation folks, actually. Sammy: The Founda-whata? Jake: I'll explain some other time, mate. But just know I've been on quite a few wild rides. You shrugged and stored the cap, Jake walked over towards the fridge and surveyed it, hand on cutlass. Night had fallen hard, and the sky was cloudy, obscuring much of the moonlight. Gales of dust torrented in from outside the town, reducing visibility even more. The wasteland air was cold, and at night smelled of coppery metal and soot. The Master: He still has not recovered from the day's battles. It would be wise for him to eat something, apprentice. Sammy: My master says you should eat something, Jake. Are you sure you're okay? Jake: Right as rain. Don't you worry about me, I've been in worse places. Sammy: We should investigate that fridge. It is one of the few places we have not looked. You once more looked at Jake with concern. Something made you feel that there was still more to this town, and you thought Jake might still be injured. It being night time with such low visibility meant that anything could be sneaking around out there, just waiting for a moment to strike. Jake: Right, let's get to it then. You head to the fridge, and I'll scout out the rest of the town to make sure nobody flanks you. That's what he told you earlier, when he stabbed you in the back. You felt a bit leery. Was it wise to split up? The Master: A true warrior realizes that it is better to be fooled by a friend than it is to shame yourself by mistrusting them. Keep your guard up though, we know his tricks. Sammy: Uh... So be it Jake, just be careful. Call me if you need me. Jake gave you a passing salute. You began walking to the fridge as Jake headed over to some of the other buildings and alleys to look around. Sammy: What could be in this oddly-placed fridge, Master? I have a bad feeling about this. The Master: I do not know, but trust your instincts, apprentice. We'll soon find out. Jake (Keep music) Sammy was heading towards the refrigerator, and you were off to see if anything was lurking around ready to ambush you both. Your wounds from earlier stung and ached, but you could manage them. The dust blowing against your hands slowly made them raw, and you has to squint to see. Behind or in between buildings it was better. The eerie whistling of the tumultuous air just made your paranoia worse. All over the town you had looked, but you found no scavenger whatsoever. The item that they had sent you to find, was it really this impostor cap? How could they have known about "Nightshade" and her wall safe? Furthermore, what was in this refrigerator? Years old salisbury steak? Or would it be full of frag mines, or some other trap? You had died more than a few times, which stewed with your pirate instincts to make you untrustworthy of almost anything you couldn't control. This was why you now walked around the area around the fridge, looking for any signs of an ambush or trap. You walked down between the houses and near the perimeter gate in your search. And indeed, you found something. But almost all at once, the moment Sammy opened that fridge's door, it was as if time slower down and your heart stopped. Sammy http://youtu.be/FcKIy2nJlRA From the fridge tumbled a bloodied and brutally beaten body, limbs contorted in ways detailing how shattered the insides must be. This was no doubt the scavenger Jake had been searching for. He had been horribly killed and then stuffed into a fridge. Then came Jake running towards you, rifle at the ready, a look of urgency on his face. He tackled you down to the ground while simultaneously knocking the fridge over to use as cover, as almost immediately following, began the sounds of gunfire, and pings against the metal of the fridge. The mutilated corpse of the Toad Scavenger was laying right next to you, face almost unrecognizable and body crawling with maggots. Jake: I'll give them one thing, the buggers sure were patient... Sammy: They? Jake: Raiders. Six of the bastards. Spotted them only a moment before you opened the fridge, mate. They must have been waiting all along at the town's outskirts... killed the scavenger, knew someone at Kindling would hire someone to go looking for them. I can't believe we fell for this. Sammy: Master, what should I do? The Master: Hmm... They have guns, and visibility is low. Your katana is useless at range. Stay out of their line of fire. Jake: Whatever you're mumbling about, Sammy, you better make it fast. I don't want them to flank us. Sammy: Do not worry Jake, I am at your side. Our honor and my Master's advice, will guide us to victory. Jake: For the sake of our skins, I hope you're right. Well, what will they do? BATTLE! Jake- QUEST UPDATE Sammy- QUEST UPDATE
Edited by Khan, Sep 27 2014, 02:21 PM.
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| Atticus | Apr 7 2014, 03:36 PM Post #52 |
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Hannibal Location: The Wasteland (Toadtown's Region) Music: http://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=A0M7FAoK3fM You knew your mission, what you wanted to do. The only question was how? It would need something bigger, something attention-getting, a grand gesture to provoke and rouse the beasts. All you needed was the right trigger, and you could figure out what to do with it. Seeing the potential in things was a talent of yours that manifested at a very young age, as was exploiting opportunity when it came to you. As you marched North a ways through the dark of the night, occupied with your thoughts, you clutched Moonless close to you in case some foolhardy night prowler decided to approach you. Your laser RCW was always there for you when you needed it, always understood, always listened and helped out. Unlike everybody else you had met, Moonless was truly dependable: always giving, and willing to take care of you, as long as you were willing to return the favor. That was rare in this infernal wasteland; out here it was everybody for themselves, it was about use and frugality, not meaning, not significance and sentiment. Everybody was willing to turn on you and exploit you, if you did not do so first to them. Thus, you had mastered the wasteland's art, and used it to your advantage. It was the only thing the dead earth responded to: the stench and decay of desperate living. It disgusted you, they all did. The savages that inhabited the world now, calling themselves "civilization". The civilization before the war didn't even live up to its name, these squatters stood no chance. Eventually, the wasteland and their own folly would consume them all. It was poetic in a way, and that gave you a small consolatory satisfaction. Despite it all though, you expected more, but knew you would never get it. A wolf you were, a wolf you shall be. The only shred of that former expectant idealism was in the form of the pelt cowl you now wore that you had acquired on one of your first excursions out on the mountain. When you still believed that anybody's message, even the one you were brought up with, would somehow make the world a better place. Ironically, the pelt itself had shown what you now knew about the cruelty of the wasteland before you had even set out that far, only now did you realize it. If Moonless was the Yin touched by Yang, the cowl was the Yang touched by Yin. This also pleased you. Gunshots rang out at some nearby ruins with a statue protruding from the center. You watched muzzle flashes light up the dark, six of them it looked like. Probably more Marauders preying on some hapless scavenger or two that honestly had it coming sooner or later, but you couldn't tell exactly from this vantage point. Either way, you figured that killing them would be worth it to somebody. That's how it starts, the first step. You raised Moonless, and began sneaking up towards the firefight. Edited by Khan, Sep 5 2014, 10:33 AM.
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| Khan | Apr 16 2014, 04:02 PM Post #53 |
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Seras Location: Koopolis (Commons; Bowser's Region) Music: http://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=_mu3_WkcJz8 Fuck, fuck, fuck. What were you going to do? Your rapidly began regaining your lucidity, and your time seemed to slow down as your thoughts sped at a thousand miles a second. As you felt the Koopatrol shove you closer and closer to the array or tents in the Koopolis Commons, you felt dread permeate every corner of your being. Every click of your foot on the cobblestones made it even more pronounced. You wouldn't let it grow to panic though, you had to find something to bash him in the head with. Or use your hands if you had to. Anything to get away and escape your terrible fate. The tents and scrap structures all seemed to he strewn around in semi-organized blocks, with stone-scrap barracks on the other side of the road. You didn't get to see much else before the Koopatrol grabbed you and pushed you into a tent. You fell over sprawled onto the ground. The Koopatrol walked in behind you calmly, buttoning up the flaps on the tent. There had to be something to hit him with around here. All that seemed to be in the tent was a bedroll and two footlockers. Nothing. Your eyes grew wide and you felt the first pang of raw panic pierce your resolve. What was going to happen? Rapey Koopatrol: I'm going to be extra rough with you. Yoshis are so soft... The Koopatrol began calmly removing his armor, looking over at you only to smirk and chuckle a little bit at your fear. You tried looking around again, maybe you missed something? Nope, still nothing. Despair began to mix with the panic, almost making you want to just give up and let it happen. Rapey Koopatrol: Aww, you look afraid. That just makes me want you more. The Koopatrol, a pretty young Koopa now just dressed in his underclothes of a gray tank too and navy shorts, leaped on you and began wrestling with your Vault jumpsuit. Your resolve returned again, and you began resisting. He was too strong to beat normally, but then you remembered your bobby pin. You grabbed it from your pocket just as he halfway removed your jumpsuit and began grabbing at your chest, shoving it in the Koopa's eye as hard as you could. Pieces of eyeball and other gore splattered against you; the Koopa recoiled, falling to his knees. Rapey Koopa: You bitch! You sprung forward at the Koopa, and slammed his head into one of the footlockers. Again. And again. And again. Until his head resembled more of a squashed melon than that of any Koopa. http://youtu.be/gUChbEq0Ljs You realized your breathing was rapid, and you sat down on the bedroll once again, trying to regain your composure, staring at the mutilated head of the Koopa. The Koopa that you killed. It didn't feel exactly like you thought it would. Part anxiety, part sadness, and part... excitement? You thought you saw a flash of your former slave master, Kodjay, while you were banging the Koopa's head down. Kodjay's face replaced the Koopa's for a split second. But why? He was always a reasonable master... Right? You couldn't really remember. Was seeing his face the last straw that motivated you to act? Did you forget something about your time in the Vault? You leaned back and your breathing was almost back to normal. You zipped up the top half of your jumpsuit and stared at the corpse again, reaching down amid the chunks to retrieve your bobby pin. You had killed for the first time out here in the wasteland. It probably wouldn't be the last. You cringed and wiped your hand on the bedroll, almost throwing up. Either way, you had to get moving. Hopefully that megaphone music covered up the noise of the struggle, but you couldn't be too sure. Taking the Koopatrol's armor would be a good disguise, and then you could grab your other equipment from wherever they took it. Hiding the body could be a good idea. And, damn it, your slave collar! You needed to find some way to remove that too, because if you stepped outside the city without it off, your head would end up like Arnie's back in the pen. Perhaps even more to do as well. But right now one thing was clear, staying here was no good. Well, what will you do? XP GAINED: +4 XP (Impressive Feat) KARMA GAINED: +25 QUEST UPDATE
Edited by Khan, Sep 5 2014, 10:36 AM.
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| Khan | Apr 16 2014, 05:12 PM Post #54 |
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Orin Location: The Wasteland (Rogueport's Region) Music: http://youtu.be/A1KR4b8yQf4 Your desire to steal would have to be shelved a while, unfortunately. While it was true that you were indeed a Bandit and found being in the dark more comforting than the light, so did the monsters and creatures that most likely wandered about. The campfire seemed to be the best place to start walking towards, with your circumstances. You began to walk east. Signs of civilization were exactly what you were hoping for. It wouldn't be all that fun to steal the entire world's riches if everyone was dead, now would it? In the Vault, the Bandits told each other a story, the Legend of the Shadow Thief. You didn't remember a lot of it because you only heard bits and pieces of it before your parents were murdered and you were incarcerated. But, what you do remember was that the Shadow Thief, whoever he was, lived in the days before the atomic bombs. When the world was still worth stealing from, and it was said that the Shadow Thief had stolen nearly all of the priceless treasures from each of the Kingdoms and then, he stole a whole Vault! Legend says that the Shadow Thief himself still remains in his own little Vault stolen straight from a Vault-Tec site, with all of the riches he had deemed worth stealing from. Though you cared little about the thief. Poor drip's probably nothing but bones now; what you wanted was his treasure. Though, that was if it actually existed in the first place. If he were alive, you were sure he'd understand. After all, a thief has to look after his own pursuits and desires. As you continued to walk towards the campfire, you looked up at the night sky. The sounds that you had heard upon exiting the Vault were becoming distant. Good, you wanted whatever it was to stay far away from you. You were well aware that you'd probably end up in a scuffle sooner or later, but for now, you were okay with it being later. That possibility seemed to dim, as you heard the faint sound of a bullet whizzing only inches away from your skull. You still had some distance between you and the camp, but thanks to the campfire, you could at the very least see the shooter. Unfortunately, this only made your hopes plummet even further, as it was apparently a zombie armed with a sniper rifle. Screaming out in panic was the first thing that came to mind, but then you logically realized if he was smart enough to wield a sniper rifle, he was probably intelligent enough to speak. Zombie Sniper: Huh. That's disappointing, the last Bandit at least screamed. You're from the Vault, aren't you? Orin: What, did the Vault Jumpsuit give it away? Zombie Sniper: You ought to watch your tongue, as otherwise, perhaps a grumpy Ghoul sniper with nothing but problems that nobody will solve will cut it out after he places a bullet between your eyes. Orin: Fair enough point. I don't suppose you'd be willing to point my way towards civilization? The other zombies, er, ghouls, looked at you grumpily. Orin: Not to say you lot are uncivilized or anything, it's just that, I was hoping to find a city or something out here... not a camp. Ghoul Sniper: Always, it's just passerbys. Glitz's End is north, that's the closest civilization you'll find in these parts. If you could call it that, that is. It's nothing but a den of thieves, murderers, and raiders. The thieves pickpocket what little pocket change is loose, the murderers kill the people the thieves are stealing from, and the raiders raid their homes or dwellings. I guess you could say that they're more civilized and organized than most raiders. Anyways, my name is Ben Vakk. What's yours? Orin: Orin Gottfried. There was a short and awkward period of silence between you two. Ben: ...What is with you Bandits and these weird names? Anyways, I had been hoping that last Vault Dweller would stick around and perhaps maybe lend a hand to some poor shuffling stiffs out of luck, but he was gone off to Mushroom Express, and then to Glitz's End almost immediately, saw him through my sniper scope. That damned town... it draws so many wastelanders, and in all their eyes, I see that same starry look. Either the Horde will swallow them up and spit them out, bones and all, or they'll just become a part of them. Not many honorable folk around here anymore, not even among my own kind... but that's just one additional problem we have. Because it'll do no good to wait for some do-gooder to come along and fix all our problems with a wag of their finger and a few convincing words. I guess I'll have to see if a mercenary comes along. You interested, Bandit? I don't have much, but I'd be willing to give some of it away if it meant I didn't have to worry about bigot smoothskins breathing down our rotting necks every single second of every single day. Ease some of our woes, and perhaps I'll even give you a bit of knowledge about the wasteland. I know your type prefers material goods, but without knowledge... well, just look to the north. You'll be a murdering conniving thief gambling away your ill-gotten coins on people tearing each other apart in the wasteland like all the rest, until everything that was built crumbles down into the dirt again. So, go on to your destiny that surely waits in Glitz's End, or stick around. Ultimately, there'll just be another that will come through here after you, anyways I'll be able to ask. There always is. It seemed as if Ben was going to walk away, but then he quickly spun back around. With a showing of extreme finesse, he pulled the trigger of his sniper rifle. Like the Bandit that had came before you, you ducked, expecting to see your life flash before your eyes as the cold and unwelcoming hands of death throttled the shit out of you. But this didn't happen. You looked behind you and lo and behold, there was what appeared to be a hulking and monstrous Clubba, with nearly all of his skin missing or dangling. His eyes, had been full of madness, but now they were full of nothing, with a bullet hole between them. With a thud, the feral Clubba collapsed. Ben: Busy days and nights in the wastes are always the worst kind. But, let that be a lesson to you. That thing lying there, that's a Feral Ghoul. Those are the zombies. You might end up becoming a corrupt member of The Horde sure, but at least among The Horde, not everyone's a goddamned bigot... oh, and let that be another warning to you, if you've actually come here with the intentions of stealing all we have left. Because let me tell you, bigger and badder wastelanders than you have tried, kid. He then walked back and sat down by the campfire with the rest of the ghouls. With only a slight sliver of guilt, you found yourself wondering whether or not if Ghouls slept. You pondered silently to yourself for a second. You could ask the Ghoul what they wanted, or head to that Glitz's End place he mentioned (you didn't think you'd end up like he said, you would outfox the place, surely). Perhaps head out into the unforgiving unknown dark and see what you could find. That last option was exciting, but it might or might not be suicidal, especially since you might not get lucky and avoid whatever predators lurked out there a second time. Across the way to the West there was a single building with torches in front of it that also looked promising. Well, what will you do? NOTES/RUMORS ADDED
Edited by Khan, Sep 5 2014, 10:36 AM.
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| Atticus | Apr 19 2014, 12:00 AM Post #55 |
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Trubba Location: Koopolis (Commons; Bowser's Region) Music: http://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=_mu3_WkcJz8 You figured you would go shopping and potentially unload some of the loot you got at Bullet Bill's, since the market was still open at night and you were curious what wares the Sons merchants might stock. But first, you were parched and a bit hungry again. That fight with the Packfuzzies took a bit out of you. So you reached in your pocket and pulled out a bottle of beer. You were about to twist off the top when a Koopa wearing a slightly different outfit than the others tapped you on the shoulder. It looked like he was wearing a bicycle helmet and a light armor, at his side was a metal hammer. Patrolling Hammer Bro: Hold it right there! Just what do you think you're doing with that, Clubba? Trubba: Uh... Taking a drink? Is that a probl- Before you could finish your sentence, Gloomry's warning about vices echoed in your head and you remembered. You never totally got over your Clubba slowness, try as you might. Trubba: Oh. I forgot, you guys don't like the whole drugs and vices thing. My bad. Patrolling Hammer Bro: Hmph. Should've figured you wouldn't know that, being a little slow and all. In any case, if you drink the nectar from that bottle's neck, you're going to be made an example of. Our Sons Creed prohibits drugs and vices. You may keep them on your person to sell, but not to use. We clear? These people calling you slow was quickly aggravating you, but you suppressed it. It would do no good to do something really stupid here right now. Trubba: We're clear. You guys don't have a problem if I eat a dried shroom though, do you? Patrolling Hammer Bro: Smart ass... The Hammer Bro walked away and continued his patrol. Looks like you were in dry country for now. Oh well. You pulled out a Dried Shroom and popped it into your mouth. And almost spat it out. It tasted horrible, like tears and salt dropped in dirt. It even took all the saliva out of your mouth, causing you to hack a few times. Bar none, the worst thing you have ever eaten. But at least once it was down you started to feel better. Your eyes still watering, you started to walk to the marketplace. You were thankful that your Janitor Cap helped shield your ears from the many garishly bright streetlights. If only you had some way to get rid of that damn megaphone music. The caravaneers looked interesting, why not start there? You approached a Squeek Caravaneer dressed in a simple beige outfit lightly kissed by dust along with a crimson fez, who had a huge Warthog Oink loaded with bags and boxes. Squeek Caravaneer: Ah, ah! Step right up, fair Clubba! Come shop at Gupo's Pawn Caravan! Yes. Trubba: I'm surprised the Sons are so lax with their trading, since they seem to keep everything else on such a tight leash. Gupo: Oh, no, no, no! The Sons of Bowser give very much freedom when it comes to trade; to attract all the high quality merchants from here to Rogueport Vegas, in exchange for protection from Raiders, hm? A very good deal wouldn't you say? It's far better than all the rules and red tape in the NMR, which irks us all greatly. Gupo cares not for them! Not one bit, no! Trubba: Hmm, do what do you sell here, Gupo? The Squeek hopped up and down in delight and began bringing down some boxes and bags from his Warthog. Gupo: Ohoho, I sell a bit of this, a touch of that. It is a Pawn Caravan, after all! I'll buy and sell whatever, as long as it is a fair transaction. Reasonable, no? Trubba: Very reasonable. But I want to see what all the shops here are first. Gupo looked a bit disappointed and maybe even a bit annoyed. Trubba: Don't worry, Gupo, I'll probably be back. Gupo: Yeah, yeah. Hmph. http://youtu.be/jQmi4k_Uz9w You walked away from Gupo's caravan and began looking around at the other shops. Sheesh, that guy was a bit manic. But Stompadompolus always told you to be careful around wily salesmen, especially those that were a bit too happy. You had to shop smart. You walked around and looked at all the different vendors open right now. A stall read "Cuisine of the Koopa King", which looked like a food establishment judging by the small oven and cured meats, roots, and other food items stocking the shelves (and the alluring smell of cooking food); another read "Loomy Bin", which seemed to sell knitted garments, rags, and leather; a stone-scrap building with "Koopolis Blacksmith, Armory, and Storage" that had two Clubba guards in full Sons uniforms in front; a stall that went by the name of "Follower Dredge's Clinic" that apparently bought drugs for the Followers of Hippocrates and sold "Sons Approved" medicine, as well as offering other medical duties; another weapon caravan that sold battle items and guns going by the name of "Blast 'Em to Bits!"; a stall run by a brooding Anti Guy named "Clink's Tinkers", that apparently made items and repaired things as well as selling materials and tools; and a caravan that sold slaves called "Wandering Labor Bureau", which was currently out of stock. Perhaps some of the shopkeepers might have something interesting to say as well. There was also a Trouble Center in the building next to the blacksmith, but you decided not to enter yet. And a Mushroom Express stall next to it. Though there were a few Sons personnel wandering about, some with slaves, you couldn't help but notice a certain Toad who was wearing a red beret and had two belts strapped across his chest, knives at his waist, a duster, and worn boots and gloves that were both matching but on alternating sides- one black, and one dark red. He seemed to look at you as he leaned against the wall in front of the Trouble Center, and then quickly lost interest. Well, what will you do? HP CHANGE: +1 HP RADIATION CHANGE: Very Low IV Gupo's Pawn Caravan Cuisine of the Koopa King Loomy Bin Koopolis Blacksmith, Armory, and Storage Follower Dredge's Clinic Blast 'Em to Bits Clink's Tinkers
Edited by Khan, Sep 5 2014, 10:37 AM.
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| Khan | Apr 19 2014, 12:18 PM Post #56 |
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Rip Location: Vault R (Toadtown's Region) Music: https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=_5CnaZemxA4 Your name was Rip Cheato, and you are at least somewhere over one hundred years old. You had lived before the burning lights flashed across the land, and somehow outlived the hazards that soon followed. Vaults didn't allow Creeps, they made the other residents uncomfortable for some reason you couldn't quite place. Maybe they were just jealous, trying to harvest your beard to sell to investment bankers so they could make them into friendship bracelets. You were onto them, but then there was a bunch of bright lights; must've been the evil government disco ball superweapon of doom, detonating before you could find out the truth in some funky fresh scorched earth plot! That was it, you were sure, trying to silence you. But for how you managed to stay alive so long, that was a mystery to you and would have been to most pre-war scientists, if they weren't smoldering moldy old skeletons. You also didn't seem to wonder about how or why you didn't have to eat or drink to stay alive like most species. Most of these questions can be summed up with a pretty easy answer. Creeps are just like that. Besides, time was a bit blurry in your head. You reminded yourself to add Father Time himself to your List of Furiousness, for making everything so bum-ticked. You hid in the dumpster from those bigwig beard snatchers. No, wait. You weren't dwelling in just some dumpster. No, you were in your own Vault. A Vault you specifically named, specifically designed, specifically ordered after cashing in your supply of ear wax sculptures you made in your spare time between squirrel orgies. Vault R, you called it. Why R? Because you didn't play by Vault-Tec's fancy smancy rules and their format for Vaults. Numbers were overrated, it was the letters that would be the supreme... ah, hell. For the first time in your one hundred year long reign as the Overseer of Vault R, you had overlooked your schedule. The Vault Dwellers had finally taken the advantage. Every day, it was the same deal. Rather than talking their problems out with you, they would undergo a large rebellion in attempts of freeing themselves. It didn't matter to them that going outside would result in an immediate and horrible death either due to evil corporate monstrosities beyond their comprehension, or the horrible agony that was paying taxes. Also, something about radiation; fucking chemtrails, poisoning your uvula. You just remembered something. It seems you had killed most of the Vault Dwellers. But this was out of self defense, of course. Both for your life and position. You couldn't trust a single one of these bastards, just like you couldn't trust any of those other bastards in the pre-war world. Like... like Che--hm, nope. There's just a gigantic purple blank in your head. This unshapely purple blob, you once knew in the old world. He was a business associate of yours, and then you two split ways after a series of heart wrenching betrayals and you've felt nothing but a seething and burning hatred for stupid purple things ever since. You knew he was going to betray and cheat you, just like all the others! Mushroom Kingdom, Rogueport, the Koopas, the Illuminati, those fat goddamned Plumbers that you were happy that just mysteriously up and died... all of them had been planning and conspiring against you! You could feel it in your sphincter, it always clenched up when you were getting betrayed. It most certainly was not a fiber deficiency like those cheating doctors said, nope, they just wanted to hide explosives up in there. Nu-uh. Frankly, you were glad that the bombs dropped! Happy, even! When it was all clear out there, you'd find Bowser, Peach, all of them, and force them to swallow pennies for their crimes against you, and everybody else. This was your life's purpose, your divine calling. But for now, you had a new bunch of traitorous monsters that you would have to deal with. These Vault Dwellers of Vault R.... They got mutated and looked like trash, but you kept them here for so long anyway. Trash couldn't betray you.... at least, you thought so until now! You were so tired of your false Vault Dwellers questioning your real-pretend authority. They were going to repay for rebelling, oh, yes, they would. There was the empty bottle of Blisterine that had been swiping valuable Vault supplies for his fellow starving bottles. There was the picture of a bathtub you had named Tubs, that had went a little brutish after some bullies slapped the shit out of him. There was a ninja star that got all bent out of shape after your corrupt guards slapped up his mother, named Nunchukaru. There was the old eyepatch that thought he was better than everyone else named Jack. There was the broken eggshell that was the slave of a bunch of other unbroken eggshells named Eggy. There was the wooden sword that despite being a wooden sword thought he was the greatest swordsman of all time named Stabby. Finally, there was an old decayed orange peel that was all bent out of shape after being falsely imprisoned named Orange. Then, there was a bunch of other guys you just didn't care about at all. You somehow hated them even more than the other losers. They all doubted your leadership. They all hated everything Rip Cheato represented. All you had done for the entire span of a hundred years was watch out for these lames, and every day, they revolted against you. They should have been bowing at your feet for keeping them safe from the pigs and weasels. The moldy old Vault-Tec manual to running a Vault smoothly really only contained "ALL HAIL THE OVERSEER" a thousand times written in the blood of the pansy and pathetic Vault Dwellers that were too lame to make things better, so all they did was whine and ask to be let out of Vault R. At least, that's what you thought the book with the cross on the top was. Not that you could read or write. Well, you could read and write, just not all that well. Maybe? Eggy: That's why we want a new Overseer, you illiterate loser! Rip: Oh, I guess because of my illiteracy, I'll just have to vote down the whole repealing the Vault slavery laws, thing! But your three fifths of an opinion is noted, my good sir. If that is your real name! Blisterine: Fuck the eggshell's whining and pining for freedom, we bottles need more food! And caps! Not a single one of us has a cap! Rip: I think that's more your problem than mine. I'm busy keeping out the vulture-mounted gnomes from invading and killing us all. Blisterine: You ate our caps fifty years ago, you big doofus! Tubs: Waaah. The Tunnel Skunks won't leave me alone! I bash their heads in over and over again, BUT THEY JUST WON'T STOP. Rip: Maybe they're a little bit sore after you bashed their heads in? Taking Vault law in your own hands is a criminal offense, buddy. Especially when there is no Vault law: the most serious kind. Nunchukaru: That's like our whole point! Why won't anybody listen to me about the value of honor? It's a serious issue. Eggy: More serious than SLAVERY? Nunchukaru: Quiet you. Stabby: I like swords. And pointy things in general, honestly. Jack: Yar, I be the oldest her' in this lousy dumpstar. Rip, you old senile crazy fool! Can't you see you've literally gone bonkers, and you're just talking with a bunch of junk! Yar, and so forth, and other piratey comments. Oh, I see, just because I be a pretend eyepatch, I have to hav' a pirate accent. A lousy one too, apparently. Rip: If this all isn't real, then why is Vault R written on the wall? Plain as day, right there! See?! Whose illiterate now?! Jack: Ya wrote that with your finger, with garbage juice. And it says Banjo Hall, ya old senile dog! Rip: Banjo? Why, I am the best consounding banjo juggler in this Vault! So shut up. Orange: I kind of showed up a bit late to the meeting. Is it too late to request a different, and less stupid name? I mean, orange? Really? That's just non-imaginative, you dumb idiot. You're so dumb that you're stupid. Ayeyahai. These meetings never go well. Always different, yet these meetings always end in the same way. These buffoons manage to rile you up so much, that you have a classic fit of Rip rage and sort of just thrash about in Vault R for a while, to inspire enough fear in the hearts of the Vault Dwellers to get them back under your thumb as you claw the wall and bite your own arm hard enough to draw blood. But with this cycle lasting a hundred years, and showing no signs of ending any time soon, you realized that this all had become stale, rather quickly. Or at least, quickly by your standards. You longed to have more squirrel orgies free from these ungrateful plebs! You didn't need this anymore. You quickly assorted the possessions that actually mattered to you. Your bungee cord for bungee related matters, your head lamp, a garbage bag, your mapkin (you don't really remember what the map leads to then again, you drew it a hundred years ago; probably led to a cache of pizza you buried out there for safe-keeping), and your trusty Vault official Rip-Boy 26000. No Vault Overseer should ever go outside into the wastes without their trusty high tech Rip-Boy 26000! Jack: Oh, for the love of... that's just a tattered glove you taped a cracked piece of glass to! Rip: It's the imagination that counts, silly old Sparrow. I couldn't expect a neoclassical spotted eel spy like you to understand. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nqM7dfcW7L8 You turned a few dials and pushed a few buttons, and some light pre-war music suddenly filled the halls of Vault R. Jack: ...I don't even know how to respond to that, mate. Rip: They never do. Now, if you excuse me, I've cut the Vault life support. Have fun dying, you lousy conspirator hacks. Muahahahahahahaha! Jack: You're going to get yourself killed ya know, but fine, go ahead and leave. You stood up and threw the gate of the Vault open, which certainly was not a dumpster lid and finally departed Vault R. The anguished cries from the treacherous Vault Dwellers who wished to so rudely overthrow your leadership coming from behind pleased you, after all, not even your own government could be trusted, and you had freed them from you. The cries then just sort of faded away, weirdly. You turned around and opened the gate again and looked back down at them, and none of them said anything. Well, it was clear what had transpired. They were all dead from you cutting the life support of the Vault. Huzzah! Yay for you! You stepped out a few steps. It sure was dark out here. Chairman Toadsworth probably ate the Sun again, that bastard. You heard moving around and growling noises lurking out in the dark randomly. You would take them all on! After all, you were Rip Cheato! Destroyer of Conspiracies! Champion of Discord! Swallower of Small Objects! Hmm... That Mapkin you had. You pulled it out to have a look-see at it. It was a small yellowed paper square stained by indeterminate gooey splotches. And though it had no geographical information whatsoever, it did have small trails of lines that extended from an R, leading to an X to the West. You could follow lines, that was easy, as long as you choked the lines before they made you drink your own piss again. That X would help you get what you needed, you were sure of it. You just needed to get to it somehow. Though it was dark, and there was no moon, you could see a camp to the East, and apparently there was some gunfire going off and commotion to the Northeast. What was that about? Were they trying to shoot you already? Oh no! You ran back inside Vault R. Only to pop out moments later swinging your bungee cord in all directions, hitting yourself in the face. Damn, now they're making you hit yourself. You had to get out here, find a way to the X. But it looked like there were cliffs immediately to your right, seemingly blocking the way West. You'd try jumping down them on your Bungee Cord, but you didn't want the earth Titans making you drop into the fifth dimension again. It took you weeks to properly dirty your robe after last time. Well, what will you do? GAINED STARTING INVENTORY
Edited by Khan, Sep 5 2014, 10:37 AM.
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| Atticus | Apr 20 2014, 07:11 PM Post #57 |
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Wister Location: Glitz's End (The Stuck Li'l Oink; Rogueport's Region) Music: http://youtu.be/lCZCv98XKFs (Radio Rogueport Vegas) You had made your decision. Wister: I'll do it, but you only need to give me that badge. You're an alright guy, you just need to get away from this place. You could use those coins to get away from here, start again. He only uttered a hollow laugh. Kaz: If I'm an alright guy, then the members of the Horde are fucking model citizens. I just asked you to kill my own brother. Not because I know you're trustworthy, not because I know you'll make him not suffer, but because I'm too weak to do it myself. After all, I promised our parents I'd protect him. To think that they actually saw hope in us... This dreary Koopa's desperation and depression was starting to get to you, and despite having a bit of a bleak upbringing in the Vault (not as bad as anybody up here, you've quickly found), you still believed that there was at least some degree of goodness left in you. Even if because you were a Bandit, you were constantly branded thief, murderer, and ne'er do well brigand. Sure, you had indeed given in a bit of these instincts since you've left the Vault, what with robbing that hapless drunken Goomba earlier but... you still believe you had hope to defy the stereotypes somewhat, despite agreeing to kill Kaz's brother. After all, it would be merciful. Wister: Not everyone is a criminal at heart, Kaz. Not even Bandits. Kaz: You may have made yourself feel better by attempting to lighten the moral burden and not accepting my full offer, but that won't wash the blood off your hands if you go through with it. Nor will it for me using you as a weapon. But go. Leave me to the rotgut that diminishes both my guilt and pain... Quietly, you made your way for the exit as Kaz downed his beer and put his head on the bar. Location: Glitz's End (Bazaar; Rogueport's Region) Music: Keep Music (Radio Rogueport Vegas) While Kaz had readily called his brother hopeless and a lost cause, you saw that he was too. But rather than succumbing to the vices of the wasteland, Kaz had simply seen and done too much. It really got to his head, and you felt bad for him. Kaz was unwilling to try and reason with his brother any longer, seeing that Howard had fallen beyond any safety net. But this was none of your concern, was it? You had been hired to do a job, and Kaz simply added a counter offer, an additional stipulation. It's just a job, and you were doing everybody a favor. You would follow through with Kaz's wishes, while simultaneously fulfilling the requirements of Mushroom Express' trouble. Being a high-horsed do-gooder never made a difference in the Vault, and you doubted it would up here either. After all, that was why you didn't speak out against the Overseer and his circle of goons publicly, because you had seen what happened to those stupid enough to actually do that. Instead, you chose the path of the thief. You stole from their surplus hoard of supplies to make the people's lives better. Doing bad things to bad people was justified if they were truly bad. Right? That's what you told yourself... Or perhaps, you were just trying to rationalize that you were going to take someone's life tonight for a badge. You drove the thoughts from your mind and began thinking up a plan. But still couldn't stop thinking about it in the background. You stepped out into the streets of the city and bashed one of your beer bottles on the side of the bar's exterior walls, you figured you would use the beer bottle as a makeshift knife with the neck as a handle. It shattered with a smash, and a few bystanders looked at you curiously, before moving on. What was left was a jagged hunk of glass. That you would plunge into Howard's neck. Easy... Nothing to it, you told yourself, dread creeping back into the foreground of your mind. You headed off for where Kaz had told you that you could find Howard. In the Living Quarters end near the Reject Bloc. You walked through the mostly deserted Bazaar and entered the Living Quarters, a bunch of shanties, box shelters, and scrap buildings stuffed together in a confined space. The Reject Bloc. Such a name didn't inspire hope in you. As a whole, the denizens of Glitz's End didn't inspire much hope in you. For there to be a section of the town to house those even unwanted by such a harsh community... well, you didn't want to think about it. It would likely be even more horrible there. You would just get in and out, or at least, you hoped, avoiding the Bloc. The rejects of the rejects. You shuddered as you walked forwards, hoping to find Howard's alley quickly. You didn't want him to suffer, you just wanted it to be quick and painless. But as you will only go on to learn, nothing about wasteland life is ever quick or painless. It is dragged on and on, until one breaks. Making sure to stay outside of the Reject Bloc itself, your walk turned out to be entirely uneventful, something you were actually thankful for. Aside from the constant doubts and questions and guilt that weaved in and out of your mind the whole way. You found your way to the alley Kaz had described. A dirty, trash covered alley wedged between a scrap townhouse and the wall between the Living Quarters proper and the Reject Bloc. Creeping in the shadows, you slowly stalked forwards, with the glass beer bottle shard still in your hands. You moved up close enough, just to hear Howard talking to himself, but turned off your radio to seek inconspicuous. https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=ZVwhNpiFkoc He was sitting before a small fire, started from a small gathered pile of trash and one of the torches that lined the city streets. There is a soiled sheet and what appeared to be a lumpy dirty pillow pushed against the wall of the alley adjacent to the building. Howard's face still bore obvious signs of the beatings Kaz briefly spoke of, but indeed, they had healed quite a bit. He had his journal in his lap, and he was quickly scratching the tip of his pencil against the rough surface of the century old paper. You stopped to listen to him write aloud for a few seconds, trying to steady and steel yourself for the moment. Howard: Package didn't get me enough to pay off Louie... he's going to kneecap me for sure, but he's the fucked up and inventive type, so it could end up being worse. I was lucky to only get beat down last time. Mushroom Express probably has someone looking for me too, can't go back there. Kaz won't tolerate me anymore... need to find a way to get more coin, or I may as well as lock the collar down on my own throat or throw myself into the arena... maybe, if I just scrounge up a few more coins and do one more bet, maybe my luck will finally... You had heard enough. You subtly emerged from the shadows, gritting your teeth and bracing yourself, and was about to undergo the plan you had worked up in your head. You would pretend to give a few coins to Howard and use your Sleepy Sheep on him to prevent him from struggling or making noise, but Howard's paranoia was too great. Immediately, he sprung up, noting the hunk of glass in your hand. Howard: Louie sent you, didn't he?! Or was it the Mushroom Express?! Please, mister, just give me some time! I swear, I swear I'll work to get the money back. No more bets, no more debt, just please... Please don't kill me. The desperation in his voice was heavy, and something within it made you believe that perhaps for the first time in Howard's life, he was telling the truth. The doubt and cognitive dissonance returned, and you felt a bit unsteady on your feet. But still, you had a job to do. You took another step towards him, trying not to show what you were thinking, resulting in Howard crawling backwards, still holding his journal to his heart. Howard: There must be some ounce of mercy hiding away in your heart! Please, I just couldn't stop myself! I swear, I've learned my lesson. Just let me live! Part of you wishing to spare Howard's life, part of you wishing to complete this grim task before you, you continued approaching Howard step by step. Before long, his back was to the wall and Howard was shivering in fear, a sweat breaking out on him. Tears were rapidly falling down his beaten face, his eyes grew into those of a little kid who was trying to explain why he got caught with a hand in a cookie jar as you cornered him like an animal about to be slaughtered. Executed. The first meaningful thing you were going to do in the wasteland was perform an execution. That made you feel sick, and you almost stopped moving and puked. Howard simply looked from you down to his journal. Pencil still in hand, he wrote a few last words. You would at least allow him that much, and didn't take another step towards him until he closed his journal and put his pencil down on the cover. In that moment, you also spotted the ring that you were going to have to bring back to Mushroom Express on his hand. You felt more uneasy pangs knowing that you would be taking it from a dead guy. He looked up at you, with tears still descending from his eyes, but a sudden look of unbreakable remorse had taken the place of his fearful and terrified glances. Howard: Go ahead... but please, at least bring this journal back to my brother, Kaz. Make it quick. That had been your intention all along. You used your Sleepy Sheep on Howard, who didn't even try to resist. His eyes grew heavy and dopey, but he still somehow and for some reason clung to the world of the waking. With the sounds of people walking around outside of the alley, you knew you couldn't wait for him to go asleep completely. You slit Howard's throat with the glass shard, and in one horrifying moment, the eyes of Howard opened wide in agony and he began making horrible hacking noises as blood poured out from his neck and mouth. He snatched a hold of you, squeezing you as his life and blood drains away, forcing you to stare right into his eyes as they glazed over. You hadn't killed anybody before, but you felt sure that you would remember this for a long time. Like a weakened animal, Howard died right there. His hold weakened, and you allowed his body to calmly and quietly fall onto the ground. You couldn't take it anymore and puked through your mask onto the ground beside his body, retching so hard you almost fell over. Your mind flooded with guilt and fear. What if you let him live? What if he really did turn his life around and he and Kaz were happy again? The uncertainty was almost unbearable. You forced the thoughts from your mind and almost puked again, before actually taking the sheet that Howard had been sleeping with, and laying it over his bloodied remains. You searched through his pockets with your head turned the other way. You found only two coins, a dry shroom, and a bottle cap. You of course also took his ring, his journal, and the pencil he had been writing with. There was nothing else to be done here. You had finished the deed, and hadn't even attracted the attention of any guards. Before you left the alley, you wiped off any blood of Howard's that had landed on your jumpsuit. You still felt a bit unsteady in your feet, and anxiety. But in addition, you also took a quick gander through Howard's journal. It detailed Kaz and Howard's arrival in Glitz's End them being from some place called Eden looking for some excitement, a ways away from Glitz's End. It was apparently east a bit, and then south. The journal also detailed Howard's fall into his gambling habits, and the constant warnings Kaz gave to him. Beyond about the halfway point, Howard's writings adapted a more mournful and regretful tone, admitting that Kaz was right. But Howard was far too deep to quit now, as unless he hit a stroke of luck, he would never be able to repay what he had borrowed. He detailed the job he took from Mushroom Express, and beyond Howard's recent writings to himself wondering about what other routes he had left to gather up money, was a single line that felt like a knife straight to your heart. "I'm sorry brother, always remember that I loved you. Goodbye." You shut the book and almost began weeping to yourself. What have you done? You stumbled somehow back to The Stuck Li'l Oink and entered, not remembering the trip beyond a schlep of dark feelings. Location: Glitz's End (The Stuck Li'l Oink; Rogueport's Region) Music: http://youtu.be/70RqsBYOliw (Radio Rogueport Vegas) You entered the bar once more, with several of its patrons having cleared out as the night got older. When you passed Ampu T. who was still sitting at his table as always, he looked up and saw the remorseful look on your face, and you would have sworn that the way he looked back at you contained understanding, as if he had known what you had just done without even having to be anywhere near that now bloodstained alley. But along with that understanding, there was a degree of disappointment, like an inner voice telling you over and over again that you should have been better than that, that there was another way. But you simply sighed, you knew that you had to carry through with this. You had done it, no going back now, to not complete your job truly would have made the taking of Howard's life a meaningless act of violence, and at the very least, you could say that you wouldn't allow that to happen. You walked up to Kaz's side, and simply placed the journal next to where his beer rested. Without uttering a single word, he looked up and fetched a badge from his pocket and handed it to you. You took your blood reward and made way for the exit of the bar, with the sight of Howard clutching onto you as he bled to death still fresh in your mind. It wasn't even your second day in the wastes, and you had already murdered someone for profit. Yet even with this bloody act underneath your belt, you were still only a wastelander in training. It would all get worse from here. You stopped at the doorway to look at Kaz. Behind you, Kaz had opened the journal and begun to read. What would he do when he reached the later pages, and finally, Howard's goodbye on the very last page with writing on it? You didn't know, and perhaps you didn't want to know. After all, you should be figuring out what you were going to do. It seems that the only way to prosper in the wasteland was to look out for yourself, and nevermind the consequences, because if you did allow the consequences to hang around... they'd only drag you down, and you'd end up in an alley waiting to get murdered just like Howard was. Well, what will you do? KARMA: -150 XP GAINED: +2 (Murder) LOST: Sleepy Sheep, Empty Beer Bottle. GAINED: Howard's Ring (Quest Item), Brother's Keeper (Badge), Pencil, 2 Coins, 1 Bottlecap, Dry Shroom, Hunk of Glass. LEVEL UP: Level 2- Novice Wastelander; pick one available perk and choose to upgrade HP, FP, or BP. QUEST UPDATE RUMORS
Edited by Khan, Apr 25 2014, 03:33 PM.
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| Atticus | Apr 22 2014, 01:46 PM Post #58 |
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Orin Location: The Wasteland (Rogueport's Region) Music: http://youtu.be/gUChbEq0Ljs It occurred to you that the ghouls didn't even try to search the dead feral Clubba's body for possessions. Sure he was a mindless monstrosity, but you figured such things probably carried about some amounts of treasure. To your ire, you found only a single bloody tin can in one of the Clubba's tattered pockets. This was why you had left the Vault. A single tin can with some blood on it. You decided you could at least use the tin can to throw at someone in the future, keeping it as your first looted object. You could perhaps frame it in a glass case with a plaque once you settled down. And maybe the loot'd increase in value as you went. You stood up and wiped your hands off on your Vault jumpsuit, and looked behind at the ghouls who, while they were back to their own business, still had a wary eye on you. You wouldn't have had a problem with them immediately assuming you were a crooked thief, if you had actually stolen anything yet. Choosing to not take Ben's offer and see if you could help the poor and neglected ghouls out, you started walking forwards. You were heading west now, towards that building with the torches. Maybe you'd check out Glitz's End in the morning. If there was anything you knew, it was that a den of thieves and murderers was probably more dangerous at night than it was in the day. Then again, you've never been in Glitz's End, and not yet accustomed to wasteland law. You made an internal note to yourself to do exactly that soon enough, considering you were going to most likely be dodging and fighting it on a day to day basis, eventually. Though, with the warning Ben had given you, it wasn't that hard to guess what they did with thieves that were caught. Of course, that was the important variable. Getting caught. Number one rule to being a successful thief: don't do that. Unknown to you, you were currently figuratively (and perhaps literally if not for the wind blowing away the tracks) following in the footsteps of the Bandit that had emerged from the Vault before you. However, the last Bandit had been traveling with daylight, and if you had been as well, perhaps what happened next would have been different. You spun around, hearing the sound of something around you in the darkness. With your crook knife already in your hands and your throwing knife at your disposal, you scanned the darkness, waiting for your foe to spring forth. You beckoned the darkness in a fighting pose. Both fortunately and unfortunately, you didn't have to wait for long, as whatever you were about to fight suddenly lit up the area around you in a flash of flame. Instinctively jumping to the side, you only narrowly escaped a burst of flames. There were two red scaled things in front of you breathing fire towards where you once were, and another green one behind it. They looked to have once been Yoshis, but they appeared much more monstrous, mutated by the harsh, brutal conditions of the wastes. And, you couldn't remember any Yoshis in the Vault that could breathe fire.... The two that were breathing fire had many spikes running down their heads and backs, while the plain one didn't have any. They bared their teeth at you and hissed, beginning to try to surround you in the dark. Your fighting hand shook a little bit, and you quickly began to think of a strategy. Well, what will you do? GAINED: Bloodied Tin Can BATTLE!
Edited by Khan, Apr 25 2014, 09:55 PM.
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| Atticus | Apr 22 2014, 04:03 PM Post #59 |
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Rip Location: Vault R (Toadtown's Region) Music: http://youtu.be/JiqYJkznQoY The flashing lights had scared you a little bit. This resulted in you going back into Vault R twice. The first time had been merely to hide, the second time had been to recollect the Vault Dwellers you certainly hadn't murdered a few moments ago to take with you. Nope, see? They were perfectly fine. And you only had to provide some mouth-to-mouth revival for a few minutes until you realized that that was what they wanted you to do and scolded them again for mouth-raping you. The world was harsh nowadays, and probably with twice as many people looking to get the better of you, to make you a slave in the sauerkraut canneries, a fate worse than death. You wouldn't let them do that, no siree, for you had the most perfect plan: you would betray them before they betrayed you, giving them absolutely no chance to betray you before you betrayed them, leading to your betrayal being the betrayal that successfully betrayed those betrayers. Treacherously. It was the perfect plan, for sure. Yepperooni! You stored those best bud Dwellers in your trusty garbage bag, but despite having closed the bag and shoving in it in your Sooper Speashel Cavity Pocket of Dubious Mysteriousness (TM), you could still both hear and distinguish their voices from one another. It must be your special genius hearing that you got from hitting your head on a large cheese grater that you had been wrestling with over a bag of potato chips. Blisterine: That plan was easily worse than your plan that antifreeze was the new mandatory beverage for tea time. Rip: Shush, you. I'm off to search for treasure beyond your stupid bottle comprehension. I don't need no backtalk, girlfriend, uh-uh! You somewhat lamented the fact that you had used a napkin to jot down the pathway to your no doubt immense treasure. You should've known that the secret government napkin agents would've slathered it with grape jelly when you weren't looking. Always trying to foul your plans, but you would make do. Yes indeedy. For one, the material the mapkin was made out of was clearly weathered and clearly stained by the espionage luncheon, and for two, what you had drawn had no geographic details whatsoever aside from a trail of lines and some X's. But you would make do surely, as long as the Vault Dwellers you had chosen to save didn't inevitably betray you and turn the map into a broadsword wielding gorilla, like you already knew they were going to do. They probably already had a plan in their heads, the dirty bastards... If only they knew that you knew their plan, and were completely ready for it. Kind-of. Jack: You blawddy lunatic, this is all in yur gawddamned head. Yar, and so forth. Rip: That's just a cheap tactic to try and get my guard down and you know it. More importantly, I know it, bub, so don't make me do the thing with the gerbil again. Onward, you walked. You had no idea in what direction or towards what structure as you stared at your directions, for your mapkin was lacking a legend, let alone a compass feature, or pretty much anything else. You tapped your Rip-Boy a few times, but the programming or whatever devil magic made it work was clearly malfunctioning. But bah! Such high tech doodads you didn't need. As you always said, Rip Cheato was never lost. He was just deliberately taking a longer time to get back to where he was going because he was absolutely sure that enemy agents were waiting to execute him with a gun made of balloons when he got there, to throw them off the trail. They wanted your secrets of squirrels. Well, they'd never get them. They'd have to drill into your mind and extract them by pick ax, but your mind had been proofed against all espionage. Your skull was thicker than Bowser's traitorous codpiece, it was. They'd never ever penetrate it, at least not without giving you a few barrels of moonshine and some roofies. To do so would fracture the very universe itself and make a thousand baby hermaphrodite Goombas cry all at the same time, disturbing the force. You snapped out of it as you saw something ahead. It was a rather large rodent of unusual size with grey fur, and while it appeared mangy and rabid, it showed no signs of threat. Slowly, you walked towards it, not blinking and mouth open. While it appeared to show no threat, that was just how all your enemies wanted to get you. But the poor little S.M.O.U.S. (Squeek-Mutie Of Unusual Size) was just curious. It sniffed your hand, and just about when you were going to start strangling it with your Bungee Cord because you knew, you KNEW that it was going to bite and maul your face off to steal your prized oh-so loyal Vault Dwellers, a gigantic claw sprung forth, trapping it and dragging it forwards into the darkness away from you with a piercing screech. All you saw were two horrible eyes, a monstrous jaw of nothing but teeth, and that horrible crimson claw... Orange: Cheese it, man! You're going to get us all killed! Er, again. For the first time, you actually took the advice of one of your treacherous Vault Dwellers. You took off into the darkness screaming and flailing your arms about, running as fast as Creeps could go. Thankfully, you didn't hear any sound of your prey advancing upon you, but you continued to run through the darkness wailing. If you had written a book, it would have been titled "1001 ways of running away from monstrous horrible things" by Rip Cheato. Guaranteed bestseller, and you would put yourself in a pretty dress on the front. Naturally, you would make everyone who bought it pay you sixty four coins. Not a coin more or less. You refused to use the traditional Creep price of thirty nine coins because for some reason that number sent you into a vomit and diarrhea inducing rage, the mere moment you thought of it. Weirdly enough, it also reminded you of that goddamned purplish blob you can't get out of your head. Good thing you were too busy both running and screaming to think about any of these infuriating subjects. You then tripped and fell over, before getting up, nearly dusting yourself off, stretching for a few seconds, and then clearing your throat before beginning your running and screaming again. Before you even knew it, you had actually screamed and ran all the way to civilization. You were before a rather large building with a few torches placed around, and to the left of the building looked to be a camp of some sort. Mostly likely a government FEMA camp of doom where they sentenced you to read educational magazines for eternity. You also noted that more than a handful of confused faces were staring at you, as if simply trying to undergo the arduous process of figuring out what the hell you even were. With them being silent, you decided to ask for some answers yourself. Rip: Is this that harpy princess's castle? I have a bone to pick with her, that one! She's a witch, and I'll see her burned at the stake, I will! She's conspired against me for many years, I'll have you know... You realized you were giving way too much information to mere strangers, and decided to quickly stop. You were planning on turning the conversation around and pretending all of the stuff you had just said wasn't true, but this seemed too complicated to you, so you just decided to take an instantaneous and random vow of silence. This resulted in a stare off between you, the two guards, and those robed and heavily armored fellows in that camp looking place. The guard standing on the left of the building's entrance, a bearded Goomba, simply sighed. Goomba Guard: It's always crazies. It's never not crazies. First, there was the guy who threatened to put his quantum harmonizer into my photonic resonation chamber, whatever the hell that means, then there was apparently a guy who thought he was a pirate the day duty guys told me about... now we have something that smells worse than a mutant and acts like a dope. Tell me, what can Goomberd do for some...thing like you? Rip: How do you have a beard? I'm the only one that should have a beard. How dare you steal the art of the beard! I'll take it from you and assimilate it into my own! You slowly and very nonchalantly inched forwards in an attempt to poke Goomberd's beard in an attempt to see if it was real or communist, whistling warbily out of key, but then the not paid enough Goomba simply slapped away your hand, irritatingly. Goomberd: First of all, for the love of all that is holy, do not touch me, man. Do NOT touch me. Secondly, facial hair is kind of a common thing in the wastes. What have you been doing all this time, living under a rock? Rip: No, in a Vault, actually. But I swear, that thing doesn't even look a percent real. I swear Castro sold you his beard and then possessed you to live forever! We must preform an exorcism! Once more you tried to touch Goomberd's beard, but the result was the same. He just looked at your trademark brown stinky cloak, and then sighed. Goomberd: The pirate had at least been wearing an actual Vault Jumpsuit... you're just a crazed wastelander, your mind clearly having snapped long ago. Begone, we don't need your kind here in Kindling. The other guard, a Toad, simply stared at you. You then followed up his staring with your own blank stare. You two then were warped off in your own little world as you both had the greatest stare off the wasteland had ever known, all while the Goomba with a false beard rattled on about something nobody cared about. You were the master at staring, and you wouldn't see your title be taken away from a chump like this Toad. After perhaps five entire minutes of this, the Toad could not take anymore, and averted his eyes. You internally rejoiced, only to realize you had spaced out entirely on most of what McGooma "False Beard" had said. Rip: Eh, pardon, I accidentally didn't hear any of what you said. Something about vegetarian mimes or somefin? Goomberd: For the love of... as a guard, obligated under the law of Kindling, I am required to inform you that you are allowed to enter Kindling upon the completion of a favor. The pirate, the day guys sent most likely straight into a den of raiders. You, your task will be to carry this practically dripping paper bag of various meats through the dark and wildlife north to the hut of another madman we know. I'm sure you'll... actually, I'm not sure you'll know it when you see it. It's a house on the hill made of nothing but scrap metal. Carrying this stinking bag of meat will probably attract many critters... Rip: Wouldn't that be dangerous? I saw and ran from a clawed lizard chupacabra on my way here to the Princess castle. Goomberd: Oh, I'm counting on it being dangerous. But this is the only way you're getting inside, you portly buffoon! Now begone! How rude! When all you wanted to do was go in, say hi to Princess Peach, and then impale her on sharpened pie tin for messing with your Mapkin. That wasn't too much to ask, was it? Either way, you walked away a few steps to think about your next course of action. Well, what will you do? NEW QUEST ADDED GAINED: Blisterine, Tubs, Nunchukaru, Jack, Eggy, Stabby, Orange, and Bag of Meat (All are Quest Items) Edited by Khan, Apr 25 2014, 10:57 PM.
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| Atticus | Apr 23 2014, 05:51 AM Post #60 |
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Administrator
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Trubba Location: Koopolis (Commons; Bowser's Region) Music: http://youtu.be/jQmi4k_Uz9w It was time to unload yourself of some of the loot you picked up from Bullet Bill's. Not only were you tired of carrying it all around, but you were also tired of being damn broke. Before, you felt a bit bad for letting down the excited Gupo, but hey, you had wanted to look at the other choices first. That was why you once more approached Gupo's Pawn Caravan. Gupo looked up at you, but paused before jumping back into his friendly salesman shtick. Gupo: Are you actually going to trade something this time, Clubba? Hmm? Trubba: Actually, I do have a bunch of stuff I need to sell off from Bullet Bill's, so sure. Almost immediately, Gupo's mood brightened up. Gupo: Ah! A worthwhile scavenger if I've ever seen one! Yes? Let us see what you've brought Gupo, and perhaps afterwards, maybe see if you can unload a bit of your hard earned coin on my fine wares, eh? You lifted up your bag, and pulled out everything you were planning on selling. There was the Financial Clipboard, four Pencils, a single Cigarette, two Bottles of Whiskey, a Pack of Cigarettes, a well used Revolver and 9mm SMG, a Switchblade, a Dirty Magazine, two Bottles of Beer, five Packfuzzy Teeth, three clumps of Packfuzzy Meat, and one can of Oink N' Beans. Looking at it all before Gupo, it didn't even look to be all that much, but you were certain the hauls would only get greater with time. Still, Gupo smiled at your seemingly meager catch. Gupo: You've got a talent for it, most definitely! Some wastelanders around here, they've only come to poor Gupo some days with a few tin cans, expecting all of Gupo's coins in exchange! Very frustrating. But, let me quickly see how much I can offer you for everything... You had to admit, the Squeek had a passion for what he did, as you watched him hop from item to item, quickly but thoroughly looking it over. Shop Transaction Gupo: That brings us to a total of forty one coins. Is that acceptable? Feel free to negotiate, but I warn you, Gupo is a master at bartering, let me assure you. Also, I should note that you should have actually taken the drugs sold them to Dredge at the Clinic. He's with the Followers of Hippocrates, and they have a bit of a deal with the Sons: rather than the Sons disposing and destroying alcohol and various other medical supplies they get their hands on, the Followers buy it up handily! But, this time only, Gupo will just buy it off of you and then trade it with the Followers later. At a good bargain for you, as well! It was certainly more than you thought you were going to get. Though Gupo did say you could try to haggle, if you wanted to. But after came time to make purchases, if any. That Dry Dry Desert page in Gupo's inventory reminded you of Stompadompolus' words about the desert, that might be interesting. Well, what will you do? GAINED: 41 Coins LOST: Financial Clipboard, Pencil (x4), Cigarette, Bottle of Whiskey (x2), Pack of Cigarettes, Revolver (low condition), 9mm SMG (low condition), Switchblade, Dirty Magazine, Bottle of Beer (x2), Packfuzzy Teeth (x5), Packfuzzy Meat (x3), Oink N' Beans. Edited by Khan, Sep 5 2014, 10:09 AM.
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7:58 AM Jul 11