| 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 (1,845 Views) | |
| Khan | Sep 12 2014, 10:37 AM Post #71 |
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Shen Ji Location: Glitz's End (Hall of Champions; Rogueport's Region) Music: http://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=yrmAuYSEKlg You decided to accept their offer. Shen Ji: I accept. Gonzales: Very good. Koopinator: Off with you then. Return when you have the job finished, or if you feel suicidal. You nodded and turned around to walk out the way you came. Passing through the double doors leading to the Hall of Champions, you felt odd about this whole thing. Location: Glitz's End (The War Room; Rogueport's Region) Music: https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=9e84Hyl-bHs Dunnel: Good hunting, Ninji. You nodded at Dunnel, and Tank simply grunted in your direction before you set off. Out into Glitz's End you walked, unsure about your future choices. This place didn't seem the best fit for you, but it was the largest community in the area. Besides, you needed every bit you could get to survive, at least until you got to somewhere better. Still, what type of order is that? To punish only a thief that had wronged you, rather than try to stop thievery as a whole. It was only a day ago since you were still a guard in the Vault, and you had let those other Bandits go... even though you had known they were thieves. But, wasn't that different? Bandits had it rough in the Vault, you knew that. Glitz's End on the other hand, it was just a dung heap upon which the dung beetles were fighting to get to the top of. Either steal or be stolen from. Either kill or be killed. You understood it, but you refused to embrace it. This is why you assured yourself that you were still doing the right thing. If this person was a thief, then he was a thief. While you didn't care much for The Horde, you knew that a civilization of these people were better off where they were. Take away what little order they disguise themselves with, and then the wasteland would be mercy to them. It'd be better to have them fighting and arguing with themselves here in this twisted mess of a city, rather than allow free reign over the wasteland. Before you continued on, you decided that it would do good to prepare yourself if any unpleasantness happened. You still had a bit of a rotten taste in your mouth after fighting those monsters outside that cave (which you made a mental note to possibly enter later on). Cannibalism, disgusting. Taking out what little scrap metal you had, you quickly and clumsily sharpened your Butcher Knife on it a little bit. You weren't exactly the crafting type. Still, this would at least give you one extra weapon. Your Ninji Blade was certainly your first choice, but if there was a situation when you couldn't use it... a sharp Butcher Knife could come in handy. Yet, it did seem odd to you, holding the Butcher Knife in comparison to the Ninji Blade. A real blade just seemed far more natural than a knife. You just thought a knife would fit better a Bandit. It was a stereotype sure, but you had definitely confiscated quite more than a few knives from rowdy Bandits back in the Vault. You had originally planned to use the scrap metal to also perhaps enhance your Ninji Blade a bit as well as the Butcher Knife, but it looked pretty useless by the time you had finished with the knife. Oh well, this wasteland seemed to be a place that was just brimming with plenty of scrap metal just waiting to be wrought and pulled free from the rotting carcass that was the pre-war world. You ditched the used up scrap metal and put your knife away, and started walking. Glitz's End was busiest at night, even though it may not have looked it, but you didn't care. You had a job to do, a job from the two leaders of this... of this pile of living refuse. You walked to the Reject Bloc, off to see this Goomba named Spoil, apparently in a fancy outfit. He would tell you some information about this thief the Koopinator and Gonzales wanted you to find and then you would... punish him? This wasn't exactly justice the Koopinator and Gonzales sought. Yes, this thief had stolen something that didn't belong to them, but a light punishment likely wouldn't be enough to sate the desires of the leaders of Glitz's End. Or at the very least, not enough to sate the desires of the Koopinator. Gonzales, while you were sure was just about scummy as the Koopinator, didn't seem as aggressive as him. Gonzales was about to mention something about negotiating until the Koopinator had cut him off and instead recruited you to punish this thief. Would you end up beating this thief when you found him? Would you end up threatening him to not show his face around town ever again? Or would you just kill him and let him rot? Punish could mean more than a few different things, you grimly thought, as you continued walking through Glitz's End. https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=DnaePHqJ_VY Just about when you were sure you were getting close to where the Reject Bloc was, you heard the sound of someone crying nearby. Foolish or not, you couldn't help but follow the sounds of this distress, eventually into an alley actually really close to where the Reject Bloc was. This alley had been someone's home, but now, in the darkness, you could see the shadow of a Koopa with a purple shell knelt over the corpse of another rather similar looking Koopa. Two Koopas, with the same exact color of shell. You stepped a bit closer to see what exactly was going on here, and then noticed that the Koopa that was standing over the dead one had a pistol in his hands. Initially, you believed that this Koopa with the pistol was the one who had killed the other, but then you noticed the tears rolling down his face. The dead one didn't have any signs of getting shot. But his throat seemed to have been cut, from the rather sizable pool of blood surrounding him. Crying Koopa: How could have I... this... this wasn't supposed to be the way it went. No, no... I could have... I could have helped you, you stupid bastard! If you hadn't stolen that goddamned package, I would have helped you work off your debt! But you... by the Star Spirits... what have I done? Howard... Uncertainly, you took another step forwards, and almost cursed when you realized you hadn't noticed a stray tin can lying in front of you. Because you hadn't seen it, you unintentionally gave it a slight kick, which was loud enough to alert the Koopa of your presence. Crying Koopa: Who's there? Who's there, you bastards!? My brother's dead! You can fuck off and go back to Louie, and tell him... tell him you have to find some other kid to squeeze dry! Come out, come out, or I'll shoot! You considered your options, but knowing that you had nothing more than a sword and knife and he had a pistol... you stepped out, where the Koopa could see you. Some would have considered this beyond a foolhardy move, but... you knew that this Koopa hadn't cut his brother's throat. You knew this, because something strongly told you that these Koopas weren't from this town. Crying Koopa: A... a Ninji? That Pianta fuck is so manipulative that he has Ninjis serving under him, now? Ah... ah, but what does it matter? I shoot you, and things keep going as they've always went. These... these fucking scum... they can always find more lackeys to serve under them. Christ, Howard... why didn't we stay in Eden? It was safe there, safe! In this city, nobody's fucking safe. I mean, look how easy I turned against you. You hurt my reputation, and I go pay someone I met in a bar to fucking slit your throat. Just a matter of passing money from someone's hand to another. I didn't even feel bad about it at the time... but then that fucker, that fucker has the audacity to come into the bar, the murderer of my brother! Oh... oh, who the fuck am I kidding? I may as well as cut your throat myself, the moment I started talking with that fucking Bandit... sitting in that bar all day, trying to get my spirits up and waiting for someone right to come in. Then that Bandit from the Mushroom Express, coming and asking about where you were... it was a golden opportunity, I thought! There was no way you were going to interrupt him. While he seemed to move away from the idea of shooting you, he did still have the pistol in his hand. But, you also noticed that in the other hand, there was a bottle... no doubt certainly full of alcohol. If he was drunk, then maybe... maybe you could get the gun from him before he did anything too rash... even if he didn't intend to shoot you personally, this Koopa was both a danger to others around him as well as himself. Disarming him would prevent any meaningless harm. Crying Koopa: He would have killed himself, I know. Or he would have gotten himself killed, or maybe even enslaved... I thought I was doing the right thing but... I could have done more to help him. We could have stayed at Eden, and none of this would have happened! I saw him as nothing more of a burden, saw him as nothing more than another deadbeat, another fuck up in this city that was going to cause me problems! My own brother, my flesh and blood... killed by someone I had paid myself. Ninji... Ninjis know about honor, don't they? What would you say about the honor of a person that paid someone else to assassinate his brother? Shen Ji: How about you just lower your pistol? We can talk about this aft-- You had slowly been inching closer and closer to the Koopa without him noticing, but your reluctance to answer his question got him to point his pistol back towards you. Even while he was still crying. Crying Koopa: No! Answer the question, now, or I shoot! Is there hope for someone that's willing to pay for the death of his own brother, yes or no?! You considered both of the Koopa's questions, and you knew, you knew that you couldn't lie. Or in other words, you couldn't give this broken Koopa the answers he no doubt likely wanted to hear. He probably needed to hear. But you thought, you could still perhaps reach him in time. Shen Ji: No. I don't think there'd be any hope for someone like that. Abandoning your brother to his fate is less honorable than the fate the brother was in. The Koopa seemed to consider this. Crying Koopa: Then... I suppose the only thing I can do to make this right, is at least kill one of the ones responsible for this. Wister already probably left... likely left the city... who knows to where... hah... In mere seconds, the expression on the Koopa's face changed, and instead of pointing his pistol at you, he pointed it at his own head. Crying Koopa: I hope for your sake, Ninji... that you move on through this hellhole of a town. Or you'll die in an alley, just like me and my brother. Surging forwards, you tried to stop it from happening, but the gunshot ringed out throughout the alley. You had been too slow, and as a result, the second Koopa had died only about a few inches away from his brother, Howard, earlier murdered by... by... Wister. That name, it was familiar to you. But you didn't have time to think about it. The sound of the gunshot had clearly not been contained to this one alley, as you could hear the nearby sound of shuffling feet outside of the alley. If you had been given an extra second or two to think, you would have probably grabbed the Crying Koopa's pistol. But instead, you only grabbed the journal that the Crying Koopa had, which presumably belonged to his brother "Howard." Quickly but stealthily, you crept out of the alley before the people you had heard came into the alley to investigate, and possibly think you murdered both of them. You had only realized that you had forgotten to pay a small rite to both of the now deceased Koopa brothers. Unable to go back to the alley, and do it in-person, you did it as you continued walking to the Reject Bloc. Shen Ji: Vode an... As you walked, you flipped through some of the pages in Howard's Journal, and found that his brother's name was Kaz. While what Kaz had done was no doubt not honorable, you still wished that their souls had found some measure of peace. But still, that name continued to turn in your mind. Wister. A Bandit... could it be because of this Bandit had been from the Vault? While the name did sound familiar to you, during your time as a guard, you had gotten to know quite more than a few Bandits. Still... you would make a note of the name. The gate of the Reject Bloc was now before you. A creaky, but sturdy structure made of scrap girders. At the top, the words "Hark the Angels Wail" were etched in a small arc over the top. It looked like it locked on this side, meaning the thief either had an alternate way out or wasn't really aiming to get away with it. Very strange. A Goomba wearing a poofy shirt and a hat with a feather in it was standing around the front of the gate, arms crossed and leaning against a side of a building. He seemed to have powder on his face, and had a sword on his back, and a big revolver on his hip. That must be Spoil. https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=DaVgKwkfcjU Shen Ji: Are you Spoil? I've been sent by the Koopinator to track down a thief hiding in the Reject Bloc. Spoil looked you up and down, and smirked. He spoke with a strange uppity accent that felt out of place here. Spoil: Oh, so we have Ninjis doing out dirty work now, eh? We must be big time now. Not many of your kind left. I'm surprised one of you even set foot in here. Shen Ji: I will do what I must, for the time being. Now, what information can you provide me? Spoil got up from his leaning against the wall and began pacing back and forth a few steps. Spoil: Well, the Reject Bloc is where he keep all the louts that are too dangerous and crazy to work for us anymore, as well as the extensively crippled, the people with revolting diseases, you know, the people who are more liabilities to us than assets anymore. It's a small collection of buildings we walled off from the rest of the Living Quarters, and the outer wall on the other side to prevent them from trying to destroy it or something. I've been in there a few times, it has almost no lights, people wander the streets mumbling to themselves and twitching, it's not pretty. But since this here is the only gate, this is the only way out. The thief must be really stupid or really suicidal to trap himself in there like that. Though I'm not sure where the bastard is. Shen Ji: Anything you can tell me about this thief? What do you want me to do with him? Spoil stopped pacing and looked up at you with his hat tilted. Spoil: Kill him, obviously. And bring back the maps he stole. The thief's a purple Yoshi with a red beret. A bloody shame, he was a great enforcer. But when we had him in charge of planning some raids, he took the intel and absconded. The dick. Shen Ji: Why would he run here, of all places? Especially if he knows there's no way out? Spoil: Could be because he thought we wouldn't find out, so he could make a quick get away after we stopped looking. Or maybe, he's trying to find the "gateway to the Underwhere" or whatever nonsense superstitions are circling around about what's in there. You didn't like the idea of going into an area of crazies to hunt down a potentially dangerous thief, but maybe you could use the darkness of it to your advantage when you entered. As for when you found the thief, you haven't decided on how you're going to handle it yet. Time to go. Shen Ji: Alright, let me in. I'm ready. Spoil grinned and spat on the ground, before turning and pulling a lever on the side of the gate. The locking mechanisms churned to life as they unfastened. Spoil: Have fun in there. When you're ready to leave, knock six times, in two groups of three, so I know it's you. You nodded and silently thought of your parents for comfort as the gate swung open, and you entered, hand on your blade. As soon as you set foot inside, the gate swiftly shut behind you. Well, what will you do? GAINED: Howard's Bloodstained Journal LOST: Scrap Metal NEW QUEST ADDED NOTES/RUMORS ADDED NUMBER OF MOVES LEFT IN CYCLE: -- Edited by Khan, Sep 12 2014, 10:41 AM.
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| Khan | Sep 12 2014, 01:37 PM Post #72 |
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Seras: Location: Koopolis (Slave Pens; Bowser's Region) Music: http://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=_mu3_WkcJz8 Huh, some red Clubba wearing a cape and a grey hat had wandered out from somewhere in the city and was distracting one of the sentries with talk. Unfortunately, there were still the door guards in heavy Green and Red full armor watching the door to the office you had to get past. Maybe they'll believe the lies you've been throwing out still. After all, Clubbas aren't all that bright, and it worked on the guy. They probably aren't expecting a slave escape attempt. You clambered over to the front of the office in your heavy armor disguise, and were stopped by one of the Clubba guards. You put on your best manly voice again. Clubba Doorman: Hey, what's your business here, soldier? Seras: I'm here to retrieve the belongings of a slave for examination by an officer. Clubba Doorman 2: Huh. What's in there? Food? Seras: Uhh... You struggled for a second trying to come up with an excuse, and that's when you remembered Eld's map. That showed where a destroyed Sons outpost was, right? Seras: There's a map in there that leads to a camp that was destroyed by some abomination thing, I have to bring it in so they can see where it happened. The Clubbas looked satisfied at that explanation. Clubba Doorman: Ugh... Sure. Go right in then. Clubba Doorman 2: Poor bastards at that camp. If I was there, I would've ripped that abomination to pieces! The other Clubba Doorman shook his head at his companion. Clubba Doorman: No you wouldn't have. You would've been turned into ground meat. The second door guard crossed his arms and harrumphed. Clubba Doorman 2: Nu-uh. Clubba Doorman: Uh-huh! They continued to argue with each other, and you took that opportunity to walk inside. Location: Koopolis (Pens Office; Bowser's Region) Music: https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=HIx37NKrZo8 The office was a small building, with a small front receptionist room, a room that led to the left, and a room behind the reception room. Behind the counter was a red Pianta in a black business suit with Sons sigils on it, he was dealing with a Shady Koopa who had leather armor, a dark blue shell, and sunglasses on, and a larger yellow Clubba who had lots of stitches on him and similar attire as the Shady Koopa. Shady Koopa: So are we almost done, Drelan? Patches and I have to hit the road soon to go get more slaves. We've been here all night waiting for you to process the last batch. The Shady Koopa put his hand on the reception desk and tapped it impatiently. The Pianta, "Drelan", looked unamused. Drelan: I've told you already, Lurch. Wait a goddamn while. Go to talk to the Isabelle in the other room if you want to chit-chat. You're almost done here, and would've been gone by now, if you hadn't brought a crazy Shy Guy in here we had to kill. You're going to have to make up for that in your next shipment, without any extra pay. Or else. Patches: I'll enjoy getting more this time. Hehehe. Lurch groaned and stamped his foot. Patches seemed happy regardless. Lurch: That ain't fuckin' fair, you plant bastard. We didn't know he was going to do that. Drelan smirked and folded his hands on his desk. Drelan: That isn't my problem. Go whine about it to Morton. You're supposed to bring us good slaves, not suicidal lunatics. Now here's your coins. I expect to see you again real soon. Lurch turned away and grumbled, motioning for Patches to hand him the coins, who did so. They then turned and began walking past you to leave. Lurch: Piss off, Drelan. You're lucky the rest of the Bent Blade Gang is up North, or we'd arrange to have you on the end of the whip. Drelan: Wouldn't count on it. As Lurch walked by you and exited, Patches stopped and sniffed the air for a second. You thought your cover was blown, but then he just shrugged and moved on. Lurch seemed to have a weird gait, almost like a limp crossed with a stumble. Perhaps that's why that was his name? As you mused the name of the slaver, Drelan at the desk glanced up at you for a second with disinterest before resuming typing at his terminal. You felt nervous, but walked up anyway and began to speak. Seras: H-hello. I'm here to retrieve the belongings of a slave to bring it before a superior officer. You hoped this would work. A fucking Pianta was probably harder to bluff than some dumb ass Clubbas. You had to use all of your will to try and stop yourself from stuttering or your hands from shaking. Drelan: Oh really? Is that so? Drelan didn't look up from his typing, and shook his head. He was silent for a moment before turning to look right at you. Drelan: I know you're not a Koopatrol, I can see it. Oh fuck. You almost began shaking, but then Drelan smirked at your fear and continued talking. Drelan: And frankly, I don't care who you are. But if you're not a Son, and want to take some slave's property, it'll cost you for me to keep my mouth shut, as well as a small finder's fee. My loyalties are to myself before the Sons, and I'm sure they don't even care about a random's slave's possessions too much anyway. Your choice. But I might have my lips be a bit loose if you don't pay up, capische? Of course. You should've known. Well, it looked like you had few choices in that matter. But as far as your wealth went, you didn't have much. Maybe you could give him something in the locker from your old possessions if he didn't like anything you had on you. You could try persuading him or threatening him, but he didn't seem to respond well to coercion. True to Pianta form. They always acted like they had all the cards. You stood there for a moment considering your options. Well, what will you do? QUEST UPDATED NOTES/RUMORS ADDED NUMBER OF MOVES LEFT IN CYCLE: -- |
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| Khan | Sep 12 2014, 08:03 PM Post #73 |
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Rip Location: Madman's Abode (exterior; Toadtown's Region) Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BoAkBar3DYk You thought this Toad was quite worthy of being one of the names on your "Do not execute" list, even though there were absolutely no other names on it. Why, even your own name wasn't on it. In your opinion, it wasn't on there for good reason. That Rip Cheato person was quite the troublemaker. You would have to keep your eye on him, that rascal. You were the most likely suspect to murder yourself. You knew it. Still, if you were to actually... trust (you shuddered in horror as the word rolled through the puddle of obscenities and broken thoughts that was your mind) this person, you would need to devise a test of some sort. If he failed, then by gadzooks, he was your worst enemy! But if he did too well, he was just another communist trying to worm into your thoughts with seditious thoughts of a vulgar nature. You would see that his teeth were flossed and thoroughly brushed in front of the entire wasteland! Such torture would make the mightiest and most clever spy furiously cry and pass out from violent diarrhea. Not only would you not trust this man if he didn't provide average answers to your questions, neither too wrong or too right, but you would not let go of the bag of meat you were supposed to deliver! Why, this spy was probably trying to trick you into giving it to him to supply all of your rival drag queens! This would not go unpunished! If this was the case, this man would be getting his teeth terribly flossed come sunrise. Rip: I have something to give to you, but I first must make sure you're not a traitorous thief trying to trick me into thinking that you're the one I'm supposed to deliver it to. I shall ask the traditional questions of figuring out one's traitornessmess. Question number one, are you a conspirator out to lower my guard and then steal my eyes while I'm using the bathroom? No-Bark: How do ah know you're not the traitor here? Why, that bag of meat you've come here to deliver to me, it could have a huge dose of poisonous poison hidden within! Rip: AHA! I didn't tell you that I was here to deliver a bag of meat, did I? Your teeth are so getting flossed! Painfully and slowly! No-Bark: You're holding the bag of meat in your hands. Besides, I can smell it. I have supersonic smelling capabilities, you know. Ten or twenty years ago, I fought in the great Chuckola Wars. A telepathic alien stole my kidney while I was defending my squad. This was not going well. No-Bark was proving to be an uncannily capable foe. You were always happy when you came across someone else that hadn't had his mind whittled down with a cheese grater by the conspiracy, but if someone was as knowledgeable as you were about the way things really worked, you would have to see that person be dealt with. Eventually. Still... perhaps there was still hope that you didn't have to break out the dental floss. Not that you had any to begin with or-- No-Bark: Question number two, then...? Orange: Can somebody let me rot, please? I'm surrounded by morons. Rip: Let me get to it on my own! interrupting someone else's scooter of thought is one of the greatest acts of treason! Well... now where was I? Jack: Naaaaaaaargh, now there's two of these yarring nutjobs... Rip: Right! Question two, what is the true meaning of life? No-Bark: The number forty two. Rip: Hah! The real and only correct answer is beards! No-Bark: That's what the Beardmasons want you to think. You need to hear the truth. Free your mind with some radscorpion poison. Rip: Oh look, he's trying to poison me now! I knew you were shady! I've got your jib now! No-Bark: Radscorpion poison decalcifies your pineal gland. Anybody who doesn't know that is really working for the commie ghosts. Rip: Sure.... That's what you want me to believe! Admit you're a chocolate communist! No-Bark: Admit you're not one either. Let me ask you a question this time: what is left to the left if left is to the right? Hmm? Rip: Come on, that's an easy one. The clear answer is the Illuminati. No-Bark: Well played, sir. Maybe I don't have to introduce you to Ol' Sticky just yet. Rip: Yeah, you need to introduce me to your comrade chairman first. Admit it! This continued on and on for quite some more time, the exact amount of time being immeasurable to anyone that still had a scrap of sanity. But at the end of your barrage of questions, you had decided that while you would have to watch No-Bark, he was better than most. There was still the fear of him immediately betraying you in a grand fashion, but there seemed to be a sort of honor among madmen and... well, whatever Creeps were. You had, still with a bit of reluctance, handed the bag of meat to No-Bark. While any sane person would have normally figured that the bag of stinking and most likely probably rotten meat was for the towering pet Deathchomp... well, you and No-Bark just seemed to think on the same wavelength. No-Bark: Ah, finally. Thanks talking iguana, I've been waiting for lunch all day! You didn't even gag or anything as No-Bark pulled out one of the horrible smelling slices of meat and began to eat it. He pulled another one out but this time tried to offer it to Scratch, who seemed to sniff it for a half a second in consideration, but then went back to eating its dead Squeek hastily. Almost immediately, you developed an intense respect for this Toad's stomach, being a frequent eater of both food tasting and smelling like garbage and garbage itself. After decades of sitting alone in a dumpster drinking what you called "dumpster juice" and arguing with inanimate objects, you seemed to have made a real friend. No-Bark: Say, Rip, my boy, have you ever heard of the folks trying to steal the sun over on a small hill North a ways? Rip: Holy green beans! Say it isn't so, No-Bark! No-Bark: They don't call me No-Bark for nothing, what I say is the truth. They're all up there, a bunch of chupacabras in fancy gowns and saying funky words that ah don't know. Drawing weird commie symbols in the dirt and everything. Ah didn't get to see it all before they started firing Voo-Doo juju at me, but they're definitely fishy. Another conspiracy! You made a note in your head to one day track down and investigate them, and destroy them before they spilled bleach all over your favorite sandwich collection. Thus, you found yourself continuing to have conversations with No-Bark throughout the night until morning finally came. You barely even paid attention when some poor Raider sap tried to sneak into No-Bark's house and met his end via Scratchy. To be honest, you would still miss the safe confines of Vault R, but maybe the wastes weren't so bad. QUEST UPDATED NOTES/RUMORS ADDED NUMBER OF MOVES LEFT IN CYCLE: 0 END OF RIP'S NIGHT ONE |
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| Khan | Sep 27 2014, 10:18 PM Post #74 |
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Jake and Sammy: Location: Mario's Town (Toadtown's Region) Music: https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=0hRaq05HvHw Sammy Jake: What's sailin' through your noggin right now, mate? As a dutiful Samurai Guy, sworn to bring lawfulness and justice to this wasteland, you decided to accept "The Wolf"'s job. But you wanted to make sure first that he was telling the truth about the Marauder reinforcements. Or, more importantly, if they had any equipment on them you might need that was easier to get than the stuff in that one house's safe, or the T.V. parts. The Master: I trust your decision, apprentice. But be mindful, and aware. Sammy: I will, Master. But he has given us no reason to distrust him yet. The Master: Like the pirate did? It made you upset at being reminded yet again, but you knew your master was right. Caution would be wise. Yes. The Pianta looked at Jake and made a confused motion with his hands. "The Wolf": Does he always do that? Jake smirked and shrugged. Jake: Aye, but you get used to it, Wolfman. Usually it means he's coming up with a brilliant plan. "The Wolf": He seems a bit off the deep end. But, as long as he doesn't try to attack me while he's in one of those fidgety moods, I don't care. Jake's smirk extended into a wry smile. Jake: No promises. You glanced sideways at Jake, who had his arms crossed and was looking at your guest with suspicion. You could see that he had his palm resting secretly on his Hand Cannon beneath his gesture. Hopefully "The Wolf" didn't notice, or if he did notice, he didn't care. You turned to the Pianta Sammy: My master and I have decided to accept your offer. Provided you did assist us in our battle, and are telling the truth. "The Wolf" reached into his storage. Jake tensed up a bit, but you didn't feel threatened yet. "The Wolf": Oh believe me.... He threw down four dirty looking, half melted skulls to the ground. Their melted sections making them stand up like weird modern art sculptures. "The Wolf": I am telling the truth. Usually Moonless doesn't leave anything left but ashes, guess this was your lucky day, huh? I'm not giving you anything, however. Jake: Yeah, so fucking lucky to almost die multiple times and then meet you, Mr. Friendly. Awesome luck. "The Wolf": You should watch your tongue. You're lucky I haven't killed you yet. Not for pointing a weapon at me, but for thinking I wouldn't notice. Jake froze up for a second, before sighing and putting his Hand Cannon away as you considered the Pianta's words. Hmmmm... That seemed like proof enough to you.. The Pianta remained silent and looked at you again. Sammy: That is good enough for me, fellow warrior. I accept your quest with valor. Jake: And I guess I'll roll with it too. Why not? It's not like anything else might not kill us either. "The Wolf" nodded and produced a holotape, handing it to you. You tried to avoid touching his hand as he felt cold. "The Wolf": See you at Mushroom Pass tomorrow. He then walked towards the door, made a farewell with two fingers on his hand, and was gone. Jake turned towards you, wincing with his wounds. https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=b_SgsNUZahI&list=PLCaeEW6jzQDgbayPeD0adXDD1pUGi0HnU Jake: You think we can trust the bugger? You looked away for a second before turning back to Jake. Sammy: Well... I trust you, don't I? Jake [Keep Music] Aw man, that was a low blow. You felt a pang of guilt in your gut that was unfamiliar to your pirate demeanor, but quickly dispatched it. If you needed to, you didn't need feelings like that getting in the way of what needed to be done. You shrugged it off and gave Sammy a nod. Jake: What say you and I go loot these corpses, savvy? It's almost morning. Sammy: Agreed. We will gather their possessions and then distribute it as we see fit wherever we hole up for the rest of the night. Sammy mumbled to himself and you grinned, crossing your arms despite the pain. Sammy: And in a mold free house, my master says. Jake: Well, I could've said that. Sammy: So could I, but I didn't even think about it until now. Jake: Jus- Nevermind, let's loot the bodies. You and Sammy went from corpse to corpse, grave-robbing the dead Marauders inside the house as you limped. Armor, weapons, ammo, even some chems. Sammy poked the dead big guy's severed head with his squeaky katana, mumbling to himself solemnly and seeming to bow in respect as he hummed. You occupied yourself with using your cutlass to fish the one corpse out of the mold substance carefully, before grabbing everything it had on it. After the house was empty, you both went into the outside streets. Sammy went over to the fridge you both were hiding behind, and you went out farther into the dust and wind. A few steps later, you nearly tripped over the Baseball Sammy threw earlier, which you picked up and remembered to return to him. Nearby was the Goomba you had shot first. He had crawled a few feet and died with a look of utmost trepidation on his face. Must've bled out and nobody helped him. You would've felt bad if he didn't try to kill you. After removing his items, you headed back to meet up with Sammy. It was cold out here in the night, and the harsh dust grated your face. Best to head indoors than be marooned out here. Sammy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VNbuF2C8c9A The Master: That horse is most honorable for not fleeing at the signs of battle. It was good to see that your trusty steed had remained safe in the firefight after distracting those ruffians. Your white horse stood there with the scavenger's head and the Filthy Pre-War Business Attire on its back with grace and calm amid the night wind. You retrieved the head from its back and put it into the garbage bag, and then the clothes. You then mounted your steed as Jake limped back towards you. Sammy: If you require it, Jake, I can have my horse carry you if your injuries are too much. Jake looked at you oddly for a second before shaking his head. Jake Nah, I think I'll be just jolly, thanks. Let's get indoors. Jake [keep music] As you and Sammy headed towards the house with the workbench and the safe in it, the latter made hoof clopping noises with his mouth and waved his toy katana in a defensive posture. He must really think that stick pony is real. You spoke to him loudly in the over the ambient noises. Jake: So what are you going to call it? Sammy patted the stick pony on the head, causing dust to poof out of its fabric. Sammy: I am not sure yet. It is an extension of myself, as is my Katana. It may not even need one. Though my master suggested naming it "Debbie", but I disapprove of such a frivolous name. Jake: How about Samere? Or Horsey Guy? Sammy giggled a bit and mumbled some more. Sammy: I was actually thinking Thursday. And it is of the Samare breed, which I named after myself for its discovery. Jake: That doesn't seem very humble for a Samurai. Is my charming scoundrel arrogance rubbing off on ya? Sammy: No, Thursday is merely the most honorable of week days. And I know nothing of horse breeds, so my Master said naming it would give me ethos. Jake: I guess I can't argue with that logic. Now come on, we're here. https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=A1KR4b8yQf4 You and Sammy entered the workbench house and poured all of the newly gained loot out onto the bed. Dividing it out according to who would best be fit for each item. Loot Distribution Not a bad haul for a bunch of Raiders. Not bad at all. You sat down on a nightstand and pulled out your tourniquet, wrapping it taut around your injured leg. You felt better. Still sitting on the bed, Sammy had pulled out one of the cloth scraps he had and then bit off some fabric from the Pre-War Business Attire, tying them together, and then wrapping another makeshift Tourniquet from the two cloth pieces around his injured right arm. Jake: Ahh, much better. Sammy pulled out the piece of roasted Yecko meat and scarfed it down hungrily, belching slightly at the end. Sammy: Most delicious. Sammy then pulled out a Dried Shroom, sniffing it a few times, before shrugging and putting it in his mouth. He coughed and hacked, but kept it down. Sammy: Ugh... Not so delicious. Jake, my master and I think you should eat something. You did feel a bit off, but that was probably due to the blood loss. You would eat later maybe. Jake: Nah, Sammy, m'boy, ol' Jake Robins is right as rain, don't you worry. Sammy looked at you for a few seconds more and pulled out scrap metal, applying it to his Toy Katana to augment some of the frayed ends that were starting to leak air, followed by taking one of the Scrap Metal armors from the Raiders and applying some of the cloth and metal plates to the damaged sections of the Metal Armor the Clubba was wearing, patching up the holes quite nicely. Jake: I suppose now we stay here for the little while until daybreak, and then set off for Kindling? Sammy: Sounds good to me. You remembered the head in the garbage bag. If Sammy acted crazy around them after seeing that, they might think he killed the scavenger, or at least be untrusting towards him. Jake: Just promise me that when we get to the town, you let me handle most of the talking until we get in good graces. okay? Sammy mumbled to himself, and then made the motion with his thumb and his forefinger signalling "OK". You and Sammy took shifts for the few hours or so until dawn, taking turns sitting on the bed or dozing off while the other kept watch. You had both survived your first night, and had made somewhat of a new friend. Things looked promising, but your pirate survivalism told you not to get cocky, or else you might end up shark bait when you least expected it. The night ended without further incident. Jake- GAINED: .32 Pistol, 2 Squeek Rifles, 15 Ammo, 2 Raider Scrap Armors, Cleansing Tonic, Tourniquet, Beer, Whiskey, Cigarette, 1 Coin. LOST: Tourniquet. STATUS CONDITION HEALED: Moderate Bleeding NEW QUEST ADDED END OF JAKE'S NIGHT ONE. Sammy- GAINED: 10mm Pistol, 6 Ammo, 3 Throwing Spears, Studded Maul, 2 Raider Scrap Armors, Metal Armor, Metal Helmet, Radioactive Gum Drops, Psycho, Dirty Magazine, Rusted Bowl, Garbage Bag (With Scavenger's Head inside), 1 Coin, Baseball (5 uses), Filthy Pre-War Business Attire (damaged), Dusty Hammer (1 use), Stick Pony, The Wolf's Holotape HP CHANGE: +4 HP RADIATION CHANGE: Very Low II STATUS CONDITION HEALED: Light Bleeding LOST: Cloth Rag, Scrap Metal, 1 Raider Scrap Armor (damaged), Roasted Yecko, Dried Shroom. NEW QUEST ADDED INVENTORY CHANGE: Metal Armor is no longer damaged; Toy Katana has been restored to full condition- medium condition. XP GAINED: +2 XP (Repair) END OF SAMMY'S NIGHT ONE. Edited by Khan, Nov 3 2014, 04:43 AM.
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| Khan | Sep 27 2014, 10:18 PM Post #75 |
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Caleb T. Location: The Wasteland (Toadtown's Region) Music: https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=cxCXk9M7wuQ Things were looking up for you. Sure, almost having gotten immediately mauled to death by a feral Toad missing its skin while stuck in your thoughts was still bothering you, but if that hadn't happened, you wouldn't have crossed paths with the caravan you were now traveling with. You were rather scared out of your wits at the point they told you they'd shoot you if you didn't put your gun down. But they turned out to be quite peaceful, and had even agreed to take you along with them. You weren't sure where exactly they were headed, but then again, you weren't exactly sure where you yourself was planning on going as well. You decided being with a group would probably be better than just wandering around alone. In addition, you had also made your decision over whether or not you would do what the Overseer asked of you before you left the Vault. Far behind where you and the caravan were walking, where that dead Toad remained, was a scrap of paper that had been the list of names the Overseer had given you. Eventually, the wind of the wasteland blew it away. The wasteland seemed to be a dangerous place indeed, so you thanked your lucky stars that you were with a group that you could trust. After all, you had no reason to not trust them, they had saved you after all. The caravan leader grinned, and you couldn't help but be perked up by it too. Caleb: Today's going to be a good day. END OF CALEB'S NIGHT ONE |
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| Khan | Sep 27 2014, 10:22 PM Post #76 |
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Orin and Wister Location: The Wasteland (Rogueport's Region) Music: -- Orin https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cN3ABDzdLls (Toadtown News Network) You walked outside as Wister was still finishing up his transaction with Slade inside. Your mind was still stuck on the money that Squeek guard had stolen. He was probably sleeping upstairs in the building... if you could get up there without getting noticed, maybe you could find it. After all, you had been inside still while Gustavo had been ranting to Paul and Slade, and even watched as he stormed upstairs. When Slade mentioned the stolen money, suddenly a boring night had became an interesting one. Maybe you could go up there and steal what Gustavo had already stolen, and finally make some damned progress in your lifelong dream of stealing the world's riches. But that Pianta... while he may have been just an accountant, he made you a bit nervous. Only a Pianta would find a way to punish a thief that very well may be the equivalent of getting shot in the face without the actual mess from the literal act. Additionally, where the stairs were located... you doubted that you'd be likely to get up them without either Paul or Postal noticing you somehow. Slade and Wister had still been in the back... but even still, you were not entirely sure. After all, maybe Paul's advice was sound. Take a Trouble, complete it, and then get rewarded like Wister was. But that seemed like too much effort to you, when compared with the potential profit that was just waiting right upstairs. You wouldn't have to trek all over the wasteland while carrying some irradiated package or something, all you had to do was get upstairs without being noticed, and steal from a sleeping Squeek. Still, considering you had spent nearly your entire life in the Vault prison, you were not so sure that your thieving capabilities were still up to par. But you knew that you were a capable enough Bandit, if you could just sneak up there without getting seen... or maybe even lie to them. Even with this very apparent sense of greed, you were still conflicted. After all, for a wasteland of little law and order, wastelanders still seemed to be pretty anti-theft, as long as they weren't on the receiving end. Even with this in consideration, you could not seem to move past the idea of a potential profit... just sitting upstairs. Because Paul had been sitting in a spot where was absolutely no possible way you could have headed up the stairs without being seen, you went outside to talk to the useless bard toad, Rast. Worst thing that could happen is him tell you something he may not have intended to, perhaps even involving a certain sleeping Squeek... Additionally, you were actually sort of curious about why he wanted to talk to Wister alone. He was simply sitting outside, playing his awful lute. Night was nearly over... it was somewhat hard to believe that only a few hours ago you had been cooped up in that dingy old cell. But still... from what you could tell, the wasteland was practically the cell but without the bars. Your pro-theft feelings being trampled by all of these overly protective wastelanders with guns aside, you hated any sort of restrictions or boundaries. Rast: What do you want, kid? Orin: I'm not a-- Rast: In wasteland terms, you are. As a matter of fact, that jumpsuit actually marks you as something worse than a kid. A baby. You could have lived in the worst of all the Vaults, but in terms of experience, you're nothing but a speck of dust floating around out there. I only assume you're out here talking to me because you're trying to get information. Information you can use to steal from this place, am I right? Damn, you internally thought. Rast: I don't see why you'd bother trying to steal from a bunch of folks that probably have about as little as you do, when there are much easier marks to be found all over the wasteland. The wastes are full of dead people, and they've left quite a few valuable possessions behind just up for the taking. I know of one specific location of many, just ripe for the taking. Why steal from the living when the dead of the old world have left plenty to take just lying around? The idea wasn't unappealing. Mind you, you very well may end up just trying to take Gustavo's money anyhow as well. Never hurts to be an overachiever. Orin: What do you have in mind, exactly? Rast: To the far west of here, beyond the old Kolorado River, near the place called Darkmarsh... there's an old pre-war hotel just brimming with treasure. I'd watch out though, if I were you. As with stealing from wastelanders, scavenging isn't exactly that safe. That whole area's a bit dangerous, merely mentioning it to some folks makes them pale. Orin: I'll make a note of that... A pre-war hotel brimming with treasure? You would have to be the judge of that. But having to cross a river... that could prove to be problematic. It's not like you had ever had any experience swimming. Maybe there would be a bridge or something. Rast made it seem like the hotel was a bit far away from this place, however. While you would maybe check up on it sometime later, you couldn't help but give in to your temptation of swiping that Squeek's own ill gotten earnings from stealing from Paul and Slade. If anything, your theft would be a righteous theft. After all, you were stealing from a thief. You just weren't returning said money back to its rightful owners. That was the only morally questionable bit. With your mind made up, you went back into Mushroom Express to find that Paul and Slade were discussing something in the back of the shop, and the Mister Gusty called Postal was just milling about behind the counter with its (what you thought was) back turned. Wister was simply standing around near the door, examining his Pip-Boy. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bl4dEAtxo0M This was probably the best opportunity you would have. Quickly, yet stealthily, you headed towards the stairs, and you were sure you were in the clear, just as you were about to put your foot on the first step, a booming voice spoke from right behind you. Extremely Menacing Voice: Hi there, would you like to sign my petition?! You turned around to see Postal hovering there, with his flamethrower readied. You knew that it was just a robot, but you swore you could see something extremely eager and sinister in the robot's photoreceptors. What it had said was obviously just a pre-recorded message, but somehow, the way it sounded, it sounded as if it were about to burn you alive even if Paul or Slade didn't call it off. In those few seconds of extreme fear as Postal simply stared at you, you realized that if it actually did have a petition, you would probably sign it just to calm its robotic wrath. Postal: Are you going to sign this, or is it going to be your surviving family members? Paul and Slade had returned to their original spots, and Paul somewhat looked amused at the ongoing situation you had with the unhinged Mister Gutsy while Slade didn't. Paul: Easy, Postal. I'm sure our friend here wasn't trying to do anything rash, now were you, Orin? Eh? Orin: I-I-I was just... going to go to the... bathroom. Slade: Sorry to disappoint you kid, but there are no working bathrooms up here in the wasteland. You have to go, you go outside. You sure aren't going in here... Go back to sorting packages, Postal. There was no possible way of telling, but you could swear that the Mister Gutsy almost actually looked disappointed. Your heart returned to a normal beat. You hadn't met your end being burnt alive by an ultraviolent mail sorting talking trash can. You took one final sorrowful look back up the stairs you had almost successfully went up without being detected, and then walked back where Wister was standing, shaking his head. Not in judgment, you knew that it wasn't in judgment. Even the most generous and helpful Bandit still sometimes stole things out of habit or even just out of ritual. He was shaking his head because you had gotten caught, and probably the number one rule of being a Bandit was the following: "Do not get caught." Wister: Good going, smooth criminal. Paul: You know kid, for a person who grew up in a Vault, you aren't quite too smart, are you? I mean, it's not like we forgot you were standing there when me and Slade were discussing our little situation we have with Gustavo. Even if we had, you're bit of a clumsy Bandit. I saw Postal notice you like the moment you set your eyes for the stairs. While normally, I'd kick you out almost immediately after that little stunt you were about to pull, Wister has shown that not all Bandits are just thieves and liars by completing that trouble. Even though Gustavo actually is a thief, what he's stolen belongs to me and my business... thus, I'm letting you off with a single warning. Try something like that again, and I won't stop Postal from making you into Bandit Barbecue. Even if you believe a simple delivery job may be underneath you, you should really take a Trouble. I'm actually going to add a couple more to the list once morning hits. If not, I'd suggest you learn to become a really, really more crafty thief. You were about to make a retort, but then decided against it. While you had hated living in that old prison cell back down in the Vault, you realize now that you're up in the wastes, there's more unwanted alternatives to just being locked up. It was your first night in the wastes, you didn't really feel like getting burned alive by a homicidal robot. You looked over at Wister, and decided to try and change the subject. Orin: So... are you thinking about taking another Trouble? Wister: Maybe. It depends on what ones are left, and what new Troubles Paul adds. You think we should keep traveling together? One of us could probably take one of the harder troubles, and then split the reward between us. Orin: I don't know... I always sort of thought Bandits were more effective on their own. I guess we'll just have to see. Besides, what if I want to take one for myself as well? From the Troubles I looked over, some of them just seemed to go in entirely different directions... maybe splitting up would be better. Have to think about it. Considering the possibility of successfully stealing that money from Gustavo seemed considerably slimmer, especially now that they had already caught you, taking a Trouble didn't seem quite as unappealing. To be fair, what with spending all those years in that cell... could you even remember stealing ANYTHING? No, you were sure you had stolen something before they had thrown you in that damned prison. Hell, even as kids, Bandits steal... [Stop Music] You train of thought was interrupted as the music playing from your Pip-Boy halted, and an unreasonably cheery voice spoke from it... "Hello, walkers of the wastes and Toadtown residents alike! This is of course your host, Dain T., wishing you a wonderful morning! Out of my windows, I can see the sun rising, ready to shine and baste the wasteland in light! Only the luckiest would find themselves in my seat, being able to talk to you all and not having to worry about even half of the troubles you all are burdened with. But no worries, even in the bleakest of situations, there is hope! I'm not just talking to the NMR residents back here in the west, but I am as well talking to all of you wastelanders out there. To the slave who finds themselves as a possession of some abusive Marauder, to the unlucky scavenger that finds themselves pinned down in a dangerous ruin having bitten off to much to chew, and to even those that don't look at the NMR too kindly. The darkened clouds that hover over us shall disperse one day, my friends, and then sun shall shine forth the rays of hope... just as it's beginning to now outside of my window. Here's something that may brighten your day: a bit east of Kindling and west of The Shimmering Plains, a new community has formed. But it's a diamond in the rough, I'll tell you. If I wasn't quite fond of my little home here, I'd maybe see about making a trip there, as it's not just some old normal wasteland community. Have you ever heard of a circus? Pre-war spots, full of traveling entertainers and all sorts of other people. It's a unique place indeed. But be warned right now, any of you who listen to my broadcasts, thinking less than positive thoughts. These people may be a little strange and entertainers, but they are not to be reckoned with, as they are well armed. Still, if you're interested in something a bit strange, you should visit the Wasteland Circus today. And that's all for this morning, folks. I believe it's better to have a brief positive broadcast, rather than an overly long and depressing one. I'll talk to you later today, my friends. Have a sunny day, from yours truly, Dain T." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3a7cHPy04s8 Even clowns and jokers were well armed now? Ugh... robbing the world blind wasn't anywhere as easy as you thought it'd be. You sighed, hoping that today would bring more success than this night had. Orin- QUEST UPDATE NUMBER OF MOVES LEFT IN CYCLE: 0 END OF ORIN'S NIGHT ONE Wister- NUMBER OF MOVES LEFT IN CYCLE: 0 END OF WISTER'S NIGHT ONE |
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| Khan | Sep 27 2014, 10:24 PM Post #77 |
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Seras Location: Koopolis (Pens Office; Bowser's Region) Music: https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=14DIAzqA-4c You looked down at Drelan, who was frowning and staring up at you from his work desk, bored. He'd probably sound the alarm if you crossed him, even if your identity was ... Perhaps there was a way out of this with you on top. You hatched a plan and hoped it would work. Seras: Alright, alright. I'll lay my stuff out for you, and then you can take something in exchange for letting me take the slave's belongings. Drelan: Good that you're making this easy. Now, lets see 'em. You walked up to his desk and poured what little was in your inventory onto the desk. Drelan immediately looked at your Vault Jumpsuit with a furrowed brow. Drelan: Where'd you get this, pray tell? It probably wouldn't be good to tell him you were a Vault Dweller not even a whole day ago. You lied fast, taking a few steps towards Drelan. Seras: I... killed some Goomba who apparently ran away from the Vault and took it to pawn off. Drelan: Sure you did. Drelan nudged the deactivated slave collar toward where you were standing and looked at you with contempt. Drelan: And this? Are you a Bent Blade, or what? Now was a good a chance as any. You replied to the pianta by grabbing the slave collar and tackling him as best you could in the weighty armor, bringing you both to the floor and toppling Drelan's chair over. Drelan struggled and tried to kick and shove you off, but the armor and your own efforts made it impossible. You shoved the slave collar around his neck and activated it, holding Drelan's arms to the ground as you straddled his chest, the armor's weight almost crushing his ribs. Seras: Now then, about those possessions. Drelan was wheezing from the weight on his chest, but managed to spit at the helmet covering your face. You responded by digging one of the knife ends of your boots into his leg, making the Pianta groan in pain. Seras: Where the fuck is my stuff, you fat sack of shit? Don't think I won't detonate that collar. Drelan smiled and winced in pain again, before speaking. His voice sounded labored now. Drelan: Oh yeah? You think you're in control here? You think you have me cornered? Go ahead and kill me. The Sons'll and Isabelle will be on your ass so fast, you'll wish you had given me everything you have. You hadn't really thought far enough ahead for an exit strategy, but that didn't matter. the task at hand first. This fucker would talk, or die. Seras: You have five seconds to show me where my stuff is or your head will be this room's new wallpaper. Drelan grinned and stared you down. Drelan: Fine. Let me get up, and I'll show you where your stuff is. I don't know why you want some slave's shit anyway. You didn't like the idea of letting him get up at all, but you'd just detonate his collar anyway after he showed you. You slowly got up off Drelan and then shoved him to the ground as he tried to get up with his injured leg. While he was getting up again, you grabbed your Bowie knife from the desk, and stowed your other possessions. You were shaking a bit with the stress of the situation. Seras: I'll g-gut you like a fish if you try anything. Drelan used his desk to help him get up, before dusting himself off calmly. Drelan: What happened to the head explosion? The Pianta still had the grin on his face, and that scared you. It made you want to thrust the knife into his skull right now and run. Seras: Just s-shut up and show me. Drelan: Well aren't you precious? What, are you a little girl or something? Fuck. You accidentally talked in your normal voice for a second there. Arrgh, never mind that, he's dying soon anyway. Drelan pointed at the room beyond the reception desk. Drelan: In there, sweetheart. Locker number 23. Just go on in an- Seras: Nope. you're coming in with me, where I can see you. Drelan frowned but limped over to the door and opened it, and you followed him into the next room. It was a dimly lit hall of lockers and crates. Drelan walked up one of the rows as you clomped behind in your heavy boots. Drelan: You're still green. I see it in your step. You have no idea what you're doing. You punched Drelan in the small of his back, the metal gauntlet of your armor causing him to stumble a bit. Seras: You were saying? Drelan didn't reply. He stopped in front of a locker with a 23 on it, and opened the lock with a passcode. You immediately began pulling out your old stuff. Your 9mm Pistol, 22 Ammo, your Sugar Bob-Ombs, your Stempak, and Eld's Map that you never checked out. Everything was here. You were surprised that the Sons hadn't taken the map yet, but- wait. You froze in horror. You were so pre-occupied with your stuff, that you forgot about Drelan for a second. You slowly turned around, and saw that he was gone. Fuck, fuck, fuck. https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=FcKIy2nJlRA You pocketed your possessions and equipped your Bowie Knife, clomping cautiously back towards the reception area. You darted out through the open door, and were immediately tackled with Pianta girth. Drelan had removed his slave collar and was now trying to put it back on you. Drelan: This'll teach you to cross me! Seras: Rrrgh! Get off! Drelan began laughing manically as he fought against your arms, trying to bring the slave collar closer and closer to your neck. You drove your foot into his leg again with the knife point boot, momentarily loosening his grip long enough for you to kick him up enough to hit his head on his desk, and then drive the Bowie knife that was still in your hand into his chest as he fell back down. Drelan gasped in pain, and then crumpled on top of you. The slave collar fell to the ground. Seras: Fuck.... You breathed a sigh of relief, only to hear noises coming from the room off to the left. You had to get out of here. You quickly roll Drelan off of you, retrieved the slave collar, and rifled around in his pockets for anything worthwhile. You quickly grabbed a medal thing, a bottle of Whiskey, and a broken slave collar remote that you must've stabbed through with your knife. You clambered away and out the door as fast as you could, just as the door to the left opened and a female voice called out inquisitvely. Location: Koopolis (Slave Pens; Bowser's Region) Music: https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=_mu3_WkcJz8 You slowed your gait to a walk as you emerged outside and closed the door behind you. There didn't seem to be any blood on your armor, which was good; and there seemed to be some sort of commotion at the Slave Pens, with a Koopatrol guard entering them as that Clubba from before talked with the Gloomba. Now would be the perfect time to take advantage of said distraction and leave the city before things got out of hand. You headed towards the gate in the distance, which seemed to be on the far side of the tents and barracks that crowded the frontal area. You walked on, trying to act natural. Your mind drifted to the fact that you had no blood on your armor, and wondered how that could be if you stabbed Drelan at such close quarters. But you pushed the thoughts away, instead pulling out the medallion you got from your pocket as you walked. It was made of obsidian, similar to the city walls, streets, and buildings, but in some form of alloy with metal. Bowser's face was imprinted on one side. Probably some form of Sons mark. Eventually, you made your way to the outside of the gate, passing tents, buildings, patrolling troops, and some caravans that were packing up and getting ready for morning. Nobody seemed to be paying much attention to you, which was nice. You didn't know if you could take anything more tonight. But how were you going to open the gate? There were two Goombas in the lighter scrap armor with melee weapons flanked by a Koopatrol in full armor with gold trim wielding a cane-like weapon standing in front of the gate. Perhaps they could help? You walked over and tried to sound like a manly Koopa. Seras: Uh, hello. Can you open the gate for me? The Koopatrol in the gold trim armor saluted you by putting a clenched fist near the right side of his head. You imitated him and did the same. Koopolis Porter: Present your Medallion, and state your purpose. Uh... Probably would be fine to be vague. You hoped at least. Maybe mention Eld's map? That was to a Sons camp, right? You pulled out the medallion you stole from Drelan and presented it before the Porter. Then pulled out the map, and did the same. Seras: I've been assigned to investigate an attack on one of our forward camps. Koopolis Porter: Let me see the map, thank you. The Porter viewed the map and nodded. Koopolis Porter: Very well. Be safe. You never know what's out there. Seras: Thanks. I will. The Porter motioned to his Goomba flankers and they began to operate the machinery to open the gate. Koopolis Porter: Hail the Koopa King! The Porter did the salute again, whic you mimicked. Seras: Er, hail the Koopa King. The gate opened to the wasteland proper. The outside night guards looked back at you, bored, when you walked outside the gate near them. It shut behind you promptly. Location: Koopolis (Exterior; Bowser's Region) Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xbi9h0Lhj98 It was just about morning, but the darker twilight was a vast improvement to the overbearing street lights of the city. You began to march out into the wasteland, giving the gate guards a nod as you passed, trying not to draw attention. They seemed to be different than the ones who shot at you yesterday. They lazily gave you a slight fist salute back, probably a bit sleep deprived after standing out there all night. You walked a few feet away from the gate and looked to the horizon, contemplating your next move. But one thing was for sure, you had escaped. You were free again. GAINED: 9mm Pistol, 22 Ammo, Sugar Bob-Ombs, Stempak, Eld's Map, SOB Medallion, Whiskey, Broken Collar Remote. HP CHANGE: -1 HP XP GAINED: +4 XP (Impressive Feat) QUEST COMPLETE QUEST XP GAINED: +6 XP LEVEL UP: Level 2- Novice Wastelander; pick one available perk and choose to upgrade HP, FP, or BP. END OF SERAS' NIGHT ONE Edited by Khan, Oct 16 2014, 05:38 PM.
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| Khan | Sep 27 2014, 10:26 PM Post #78 |
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Trubba Location: Koopolis (Slave Pens; Bowser's Region) Music: https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=_mu3_WkcJz8 You really wanted to help Glummer, as you truly felt bad for the slaves as while you were still new to the wasteland, you knew that there had been slaves in the Vault as well. Stompadompolus spoke in disgust of Vault-Tec placing those collars in the Vault. It was inevitable that some curious Overseer would go looking around and find them, and invent a use for them. Indeed, he had, and it was apparently a popular use nowadays even outside. But while you still remained unsure of the Sons, you could see clearly what being an enemy of them would bring. You were definitely a smarter Clubba than most, your primary strength was... well, your strength. Trying to convince or negotiate another meal for the slaves, you'd likely bungle. Trying to think of some lie about a distraction likely wouldn't work either. Or, more likely, they just wouldn't believe you. You just weren't one for words. That left pretty much only the brute force choice, which would surely get you pointlessly killed and nothing would be different. Trubba: Sorry Glummer, but I can't help you distract the guards. While I feel bad for those slaves in there... I can't risk getting into trouble with the Sons. Glummer looked a bit disappointed, but his eyes softened in understanding. Glummer: I understand... Don't worry about it. If you want to help some other time, just let me know. Just promise me you won't become as cruel as some of them are. The Sons do a lot of good for the region, and I wish they'd stop the slavery and the crucifixion. But, there's nothing I can do about it right now except this. You have a good heart, and a rare ability to think straighter than other Clubbas. Don't waste it and become a monster if you don't have to. Trubba: I won't, Glummer. Glummer wryly smiled and looked at the slave pens. A Shady Koopa with a dark blue shell and a large yellow Clubba with stitches on him left the building near the pens. Glummer: We're not bad people, we just try to make a life for ourselves like anybody else. Only some act like we're nothing more than Raiders, acting needlessly brutal or savage when it's not even necessary. They don't understand that the Sons value order and pragmatic structure rather than violence as a goal. Except in desperate battles, where I hear commanders like Koopis Kapp have told their soldiers to cut loose and win by any means. Only Raiders can build a civilization by brutality alone, and that's why we conquer them. A Koopatrol suddenly stormed into the Slave Pen, locking the door behind him, and walked up to the old Toad, who seemed to be hiding something behind him. You couldn't tell from where you were standing, but you were pretty sure it was a piece of cooked meat of some sort. The old Toad made no attempts at resisting, he simply looked up at the Koopatrol and glared. Old Enslaved Toad: I know what ya are waitin' for, but I'm not afraid. Do your worst. Without even a second of delay following the end of the Old Toad's sentence, the Koopatrol began to rain down blows with his fists. Rather quickly, the Toad's face began to gather bruises and blood began to drip from his mouth. The Koopatrol only stopped when the Old Toad was on the ground entirely, twitching in pain. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the Koopatrol who entered the building earlier leave it. Violent Koopatrol: I don't know who gave you extra fuckin' food, or how long it's been going on, but it ends now you goddamned geezer. The next time some whelp tries to give you an extra helping, not only will you deny it, but you'll tell any Koopatrol that happens to be walking by who is feeding you trash more than you're allowed. The Koopatrol laughed to himself, and then exited the Slave Pen, and the other slaves, while they had watched the Old Toad get beaten down, eventually returned to their own corners and spots after a minute or so passed, with the Old Toad picking himself up. But while his face was bloodied, he seemed to have endured through it pretty well. Stompadompolus was tough enough, but to be elderly out here... you probably will have had to endure some pretty bad carnage sooner or later. Glummer: ...Like I said. I just wish it could be different. Be cautious of where exactly you tread. A Clubba, smart like you... well, it's an oddity, but a good one. But here, oddities are killed, stamped out unless they're useful. Let me tell you the Parable of Decitain Mar the Wrathful. There was a Clubba a few years ago, like you, who joined the Sons after his family got murdered by raiders in the East. While he distrusted the Sons, he needed supplies, so he did a few couple of odd jobs here and there for them. His name was Mar, but after a while he rose to the rank of Decitain, commanding a small troop and not being as cold as some of the others. But on one job, he took a rather unfortunate blow to the head, it messed with him. Made him more angry and brutal. He now is known by the name Decitain Mar the Wrathful, so far gone he questions nothing and completely brutalizes any enemies his troop comes across. They're one of the most feared groups in the Sons. Gnash-Fang... But you know, Clubbas, they're big, good in combat... but one that is capable of any sort of level of thought... they're capable of questions. The Sons don't like questions. They like obedience, order, getting the job done. One that looks down at the Koopatrol and asks why, they have a way of being whittled down like a stone, to a shape resembling the others. It's something to think about, certainly. As Glummer resumed staring into the Slave Pen, you were about to say something else, but then decided it would perhaps be better if you didn't. But you did make a mental note to yourself that if you did think of something else that could possibly work, maybe you'd come back here and still help Glummer out. You knew some pretty shitty people back in the Vault, but even on them you wouldn't wish this fate. The Tunnel Shanks were definitely beginning to look smaller and smaller to you with every next moment you spent in the Wasteland. The Tunnel Shanks definitely had never strapped an explosive piece of metal around your neck, and then beat the ever living hell out of you after keeping you with barely any food and then finding you had obtained something extra behind their backs from some generous but unknown benefactor. With that in mind, you nodded to Glummer, who nodded back, and you left. Time to visit Morton. Onward you walked away from the Slave Pens, across the cobblestone streets towards the awe-inspiring, black columned building that was apparently the Seat of Power, the Keep of Koopolis. As you approached the front, Clubbas and Koopas in gold-trimmed Sons armor and two Goombas with maroon berets went to stop you, but then you instinctively pulled out two of the Ghoul heads and showed them off. One of the Koopas greeted you. Keep Porter: Ah yes, you must be the one the gate guards told us of. Please follow me, I'll bring you to Morton. Trubba: Alright, let's go. The Koopa nodded, and the two Goombas with the berets opened the doors for you to enter. Location: Koopolis (Seat of Power; Bowser's Region) Music: https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=igVoOaKd3ps You followed the Koopa inside the gray wooden door, and were were almost stunned at the wondrous metal statue of Bowser in the center of the main hallway, with a foot crushing numerous Toads, face looking upward in triumph. Surrounding it, evenly spaced from each other, were eight statues of smaller but varied Koopas, with one that looked most like Bowser directly in front of him. Probably Bowser's kids or something. You didn't know he had kids, Stompadompolus never mentioned much about it. The floor was made of glazed rock and there were numerous bright electric lights periodically strewn throughout, with just as many guards similar to the ones outside. The gold trimmed armor and maroon berets seemed to be a common theme. The Keep Porter you followed went around the statues and directly to the double doors across from where the entrance was. He nodded to you and opened it. You went inside, and the door shut behind you. Surrounded by yet more guards and sitting in a throne, before you was a Koopa much larger than most, wearing thick metal Son armor adorned with spikes and a cape. His shell was black, and also had a couple of spikes. His face was pale, with a grayish-black star on side, and in his hand was a gigantic hammer that was probably bigger than you were. He was without a doubt the largest Koopa you had ever seen. At the very least, you didn't have to ask around for Morton. He was already standing there. When Morton spoke as you walked closer, his voice was deeper than ocean trench. Morton: A Clubba in a Vault Jumpsuit with the face of Bowser printed on his back... The guards had told me of your arrival, but I remained skeptical. Yet here you stand... well, little Clubba... you do have something to give me, don't you? Or will your stay in Koopolis prove to be rather short indeed? Trubba: I have cleared Bullet Bill's, and have brought you the heads of the Feral Ghouls as proof. You gathered all of your Ghoul Heads and placed them before Morton, who only nodded. Morton: Ah, a capable one... I like that. The factory will be easy pickings now. It'll take a few days certainly... but before long, Koopolis will be even more fortified with those blasters... hah, as an additional reward for doing something those silly little recruits couldn't, you are now officially a Hireling of the Sons of Bowser. Meaning while you are not a true Son yet, if you do one more worthy task, you will be initiated into the Sons if you so wish. Hirelings themselves are treated a little bit better than the normal rabble, and you may naturally be able to pick up some jobs the Sons may be less willing to give out to normal outsiders, along with entrance to the city. But our rules still apply to you within our city walls, and there are things or places we better not catch you in. Regardless of whether you wish to join the Sons... I do have such a task that if completed, you will have proven yourself to be capable to stand among us... and there is a rather sizable reward. But before I go into details, here is your reward for clearing out the factory. The Medallion is our sigil, use it at the gate. Morton handed you a sack of coins, and peering into it, you believed you also saw a badge of some sort as well as what appeared to be a black obsidian-metal medallion, similar to the building material of much of the architecture in the city, with Bowser's face etched into it. A Bitter Drink as well it seems. Trubba: Thank you, Morton. The Koopa grunted and continued to speak. Morton: To the direct west of the city, travel through Shell Pass, you should be able to see the camp our Sons have put in that area. Talk to the commandante there to get more details. The Sons there have been dealing with a surplus of rabid Chomps, and there only seems to be more and more every day. There haven't been any Deathchomps sighted thus far, but in packs, those normal Rad Chomps are problem enough. They are disrupting our scouts in that region leading to the Blood Knot. Do this, and I'll perhaps give you some more jobs... If you choose to accept it. You paused for a second at the Koopa's offer, noticing that through the stained glass windows, rays of dawn were beginning to appear. QUEST COMPLETE QUEST XP GAINED: +6 XP GAINED: SOB Medallion, 15 Coins, Bitter Drink, Dizzy Strike (Badge). LOST: 8x Feral Ghoul Skulls (Quest Item), Glowing One Skull (Quest Item). NOTES/RUMORS ADDED END OF TRUBBA'S NIGHT ONE. |
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| Khan | Sep 27 2014, 10:28 PM Post #79 |
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Goomward Location: Koopolis Graveyard (Bowser's Region) Music: https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=jpWPaxgdo0E Truthfully, seeing that pit of utter carnage and death dampened your spirits a bit. It seemed unreal. In that pit that they erroneously called a graveyard would be where all the losers, where all those unwilling to try and take a risk to make a mark on the wasteland would end up being. Along with the ones that did try but failed, you reminded yourself. Down there, mangled together, messes of flesh and blood, one and all. Each one of those wastelanders rotting in that scar, that hole ripped into the land. Their stories ended there, left forgotten, left for the dogs and the vultures to comb and collect mere trinkets and scraps of supplies from. You would never end up there with the rest of them, you swore to yourself. You wouldn't be down there as one of the bodies, nor would you be one of the vultures. What you considered this wasteland worth, well, that was still up in the air. You were simply another wastelander walking the land now, looking and waiting for your opportunity. The opportunity that you end up taking, hopefully, it won't lead you back down there into that pit. Even your first sights of the wasteland had not been a pleasant one, you were well aware that there was wealth to be found in the wasteland. Stompadompolus had the same type of spark that you yourself had, and he hadn't minded talking with someone else about the old world. While your conversations with the old man had been brief, he hadn't been reluctant to talk to you about exactly what type of place the world was, in the pre-war era. He spoke with that look in his eye, that look of fond memories, that look of warmth. He confided in you more than others in the Vault, perhaps about as much as that Clubba he had raised... he had told you how much he hated the Vault. Sure, he had avoided dying due to the bombs, but where was the dignity in living out your last years in a metal hole in the ground? Even still, you were glad he didn't have to see what the world he remembered had morphed into. It was partially because of him that made you want to get out here, and gather the pieces of the old world. Indeed, you sought to profit on the junk and leavings of people long dead... but you did not wish to obtain these profits to hoard them, nor to use them for malicious purposes. You wanted to grab a firm hold of the wasteland's wealth, and actually use it to make things better out here. After all, wealth was good to have, but what was the point in it if everything else was simply in ruin? A dead land needs no merchants, but this land isn't dead yet. You would see it restored, at least, partially. Considering Dry Dry Desert (you made a note of its new name: the Shimmering Plains) was a bit too dangerous for someone in your current state (lacking supplies), you decided to head north. There was a medium sized camp a bit to the east, but you were pretty sure it belonged to the Sons of Bowser. While your dealings with them had been a bit brief, Stompadompolus had told you enough stories of Bowser that you knew they were probably bad news. Thus, you continued walking on. Directly north, you saw a rather large pre-war building, but before the building, there was something else in the darkness, lying in the dirt. It looked like a Lil' Oink, but it was much larger than the pictures of those you had seen in old books back in the Vault. Additionally, there was quite a few boxes and bags tied to its back, and while that was an appealing sight indeed, you couldn't help but notice the blood trail leading a bit away from the Oink. It was not the blood of the Oink itself (although, it did have quite a few bullet wounds), and the trail of blood was leading a bit northeast. As you were examining the start of the blood trail, perhaps something clicked in your mind or it was just one of your still developing wasteland instincts. You turned around with your pistol in your hands, to see the smiling face of the Toad Scavenger from before, who had threatened you with a switchblade over your Brass Coin. He had been just about to cut your throat, probably. But even though you had caught him before he succeeded in doing so, he simply smiled. That was when you noticed the two other faces in the darkness, behind him. His friends. Damn it. Toad Scavenger: I couldn't help but follow you, you know. I'd say I was right in doing so... you led me right to something way better than what those old stiffs in that damned pile had... meant to introduce myself before. My name's Rat T. Goomward: Ratty? Rat T.: What can I say? My parents just thought I was a laughing bundle of joy. They were raiders, like yours truly. So when I killed them in their sleep and took everything they owned, well... I guess you could say it was a bit of a family tradition. Now... where were we? This bastard was determined, you could at least say that much. Goomward: I think we were at the part where I shoot you. Rat T.: Ah, yes. But my friends over here, they'll just shoot you right after. To be honest, I'm pretty sure I'd be able to cut you a good deal before you even manage to pull the trigger. I'm pretty quick with this little switchblade of mine, I'll tell you. Of course, there's additionally always the possibility of you missing. But what can I say? I'm always one who likes to test his luck. Goomward: Yet, you didn't try this shit back at the pit, did you? Rat T.: Why bother when those little Koopatrol fucks would have busted up my party? That's no fun, and you know it's no fun. I'll definitely be wanting that Brass Coin... but you don't have to give it to me now. Nah, I'll find it myself, trust me. I've done this little song and dance more than once. Goomward: You yourself don't have a gun. I'm supposed to believe your friends over there do? Why would the ringleader be armed with just a switchblade? Rat T.: It's not fun if it's not messy. You're just one little Goomba, a lost stray that found their way out of their Vault. This ruined caravan you stumbled upon? It's ours now, as well as your possessions. ???: I think not. No, this caravan was mine, and I'll be damned if I let you maggots picked it clean. You looked around with your pistol still aimed towards Rat T., and noticed someone new had arrived and that the sun had finally began its slow ascent into the sky. The new person joining was a strange species, one you had never seen before. A floating yellow eggshaped thing with four hands in no way connected to its body approached the scene. Rat T.: What the fuck are you? A muppet? Irritated Wizzerd: You don't know what we Wizzerds are capable of... this is about the part where you should run. Rat T.: What the hell are you going to do? Tickle us away with those hands? Irritated Wizzerd: Oh, something like that. You noticed as the Wizzerd's hands began to spark. It seemed his eyes were set on Rat T. and his friends though. Morning had arrived, and something told you that today would be far more eventful than your night. END OF GOOMWARD'S NIGHT ONE |
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| Khan | Sep 27 2014, 10:29 PM Post #80 |
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Kapp Location: Tempest (Divine Hospitality; Eye of the Storm) Music: https://www.yourepeat.com/watch?v=HlnKfLR-Tpk You were woke up to the sound of someone beating their fist against the door. Oh, by the Star Spirits... you had overslept, and now the Sons had caught up with you! Damn, damn, damn! You knew that stopping here was a foolish move, but you and the kid had needed a rest. Now, you were stuck in a tinderbox of a room with their assassins pounding on your door. There was no other way out but that door, and despite not even having known him for a full twenty four hours, you did not wish to get the kid killed. But abandoning him was a bit out of the question now. Son Voice One: Come on, Koopis. You know how it goes. Let's not drag this out any longer. Son Voice Two: Face your punishment with dignity, you old coward! Dragging it out was far better an alternative than going back. As you quickly got your gear in order, you noticed that amazingly, the kid hadn't woken up yet despite the yelling and the loud rampant sounds of the pounding upon the door. You flipped the couch that you had slept on over to use for cover, as you checked if your assault rifle was loaded. It was, of course. If what was about to occur wouldn't wake the lad up, then nothing would. You spent the start of your morning, sitting within your room in "Divine Hospitality" behind an overturned couch, with an assault rifle in your hands, watching a door that would certainly not last forever, with words you spoke long ago ringing in your mind. They were the words you practically shouted at an entire group of Son recruits, that had been unlucky enough to be sent to Blood Knot. Some of the other higher ranking Sons had even went as far to start distastefully calling it "Kapp's Playground." Past Kapp: On this battlefield, I've seen many a NMR soldier and Son die. Believe me, I've killed quite a few of them myself. NMR soldiers that were probably praying to the Star Spirits to see another morning and not get cut down by our ranks, and Sons that lost faith in the true reason we fight and tried to run away. Son Soldier: What is the reason for why we fight? Past Kapp: We fight for ourselves. We fight for the glory of the Sons of Bowser. We fight because simply... there is nothing else we can do. It is either them or us. The NMR and the Sons cannot coexist. Really, it is just that simple... You gave them all a cheap and simple answer, because to be honest, you didn't have a real one and on that day, as you watched the same scene, the same old battle that was waged at Blood Knot unfold once more, back and forth between attacks, you realized this for the very first time. Indeed, the one that had asked what the reason was turned out to be one of the few that tried to flee, and indeed... you cut him down, as you had with all of the others that tried to do the very same thing before. While you had been busy with him, an NMR recruit had almost gotten the jump on you, but you had been lucky enough then to not miss with your assault rifle. As your room's door was pierced with a scimitar slash, you prayed that you still possessed that kind of luck. END OF KAPP'S NIGHT ONE |
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7:58 AM Jul 11