The Capital Wasteland: A Struggle for Survival

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The Capital Wasteland: A Struggle for Survival; A Fallout 3/post-nuclear-apocalypse RP
Tweet Topic Started: Oct 19 2009, 02:41 PM (1,585 Views)
Mezzo	Nov 14 2009, 05:11 PM Post #16
Angel Island Act 2 Posts: 61 Group: D Rank Adventurer Member #10,286 Joined: August 25, 2009	Alli nervously checked her ammo for the 6th time in as many minutes, 7 shots... 7 shots... The Brahmin attack caught her by surprise, and put her on edge since then, jerking at every minute sound, of course she'd heard stories, the Raiders and Mutants, but the Brahmin was one of the first living things she'd seen in a while. She looked up the slope, and saw Deputy Weld, holding his trademark Hunting Rifle to fend off any 'unfavorable' guests. She smoothly slipped the Sawn-off away, telegraphing all her movements to not raise suspicion on herself. Judging by the fact that she makes it to the front gate without being pumped full of holes, she's somewhat trusted by the man. Ducking quickly under the cast-metal gates, she finally relaxes, secure within one of the few safe places in the Wasteland.
	~Current Stories~ Vengeance 3% Infection 0% Frag/ment\ation 5% Saga of the Steel Blur 20% Metaknight's Revenge Redux 30%


Ricochet	Nov 15 2009, 01:52 PM Post #17
Angel Island Act 1 Posts: 43 Group: E Rank Adventurer Member #10,446 Joined: October 29, 2009	They had set camp. Damn them to hell. He'd been in the keeping of the Mezz Head Raiders for almost eighteen hours now, and he was not a happy mutant. Being captured hadn't seemed such a problem, at first. All Raiders looked tough but, in reality, were jokes, with zero noise discipline, bad training, and notorious tempers leading to leadership disputes and countless other causes of infighting. All day he'd kept an eye out for his chance to escape, but as time wore on he became aware that these guys, these Mezz Heads, weren't your average Raiding party. They moved well. Damned well. Hugging cover when they detected some of the more hostile wildlife scattered around the Wasteland. Avoiding casting shadows that might give them away to the observant. Keeping down to prevent silhouetting themselves against the ever-sinking sun. And they'd set scouts ahead to sweep their route; one of which had flushed out a handful of thin, dirty Wastelanders from their hole to add to the income of the Raiders. Ricochet's mood had steadily worsened. How was he ever supposed to escape skilled Raiders? They'd set camp in a ruined building that had probably been an administration centre or something before The War. He'd seen rows of desks in one dark room as they entered. Ricochet leaned against a cold wall, his hands bound uncomfortably behind him, unable to sleep because his mind was working furiously over his ever-more-problematic escape and because, somewhere to his right, one of the recently captured Wastelanders was snoring loudly. Their captors were in the next room, sharing the heat of a fire. Ricochet could smell vodka, and now and then their voices rose in laughter or colourful cursing. "Hey," someone whispered nearby. Ricochet ignored the whisperer. He was watching the doorway. "Hey," the whisper came again. "Hey, buddy. You awake?" He grunted and rolled onto his side, hoping the small movement would either go unnoticed or be mistaken for the innocent fidgeting of the deeply asleep. Seconds passed with the conversation in the next room unbroken. "Hey," the unknown whisperer whispered. "I hear you. I'm awake." Ricochet whispered back. "There's a hole in the floor over here." "Where?" Ricochet demanded. "Behind me. About three paces. It was covered by an old door, those guys mustn't have found it." A brief silence bloomed between them. Then the whisperer said; "I'm gonna try and make a break for it. Maybe we could both get out." "No time," he hissed back. "Just go. Get yourself out." "Come on, man, we can both be out!" "Not if you piss about and waste your chance," Ricochet told him. "Now get the hell out of here. Get going." "You're crazy." "Maybe. But they've got my kit anyway, and I'm not leaving without it." "Good luck," said the unknown whisperer. There was a loud scrape of wood on concrete as the Wastelander kicked the door away from the hole. Ricochet saw a dim shape disappear, heard a thud and a roll, an involuntary exhalation of breath, and then... Two short, high pitched beeps. A brief burp of gunfire, the report of the shells banging back against the walls in a deafening echo, a wet slap, a cut off scream, a thud. Then silence, blessed silence, apart from the footsteps of the Raiders approaching the doorway. Ricochet forced himself to stay still and breathe evenly. The other Wastelanders, though, were whimpering in fear. One was demanding to know what had happened. "Shut your damn mouth," said a woman. "What we got?" a male voice asked. One of the Raiders approached the hole in the floor, knelt, and peered down to the ground level. The figure was vaguely female but her laugh put her gender beyond doubt. "Runner," she snorted. "You owe me ten caps." "Only one?" a second female voice asked. "Damn." "Only one," the first woman confirmed. She got up and walked back to her companions. As the Raiders returned to their drum fire in the little room adjacent, Ricochet heard her say; "Pay up, bitch. And pass me that vodka. Being a winner's thirsty work." So, they do have turrets, Ricochet thought to himself. Just as I thought. Escape's going to have to be a little more inventive than just running for the door. But what could he do? "I need a piss," he said out loud. Apparently his captors hadn't heard him. Or they were ignoring him. "I said, I need a piss," he repeated, louder this time. "And a shit," he added. "I need it real bad. Come on, you bastards, or I'll end up crapping myself." "Then crap yourself," called a voice, followed by laughter. "Suit yourself," Ricochet replied. "But don't go blaming me if rats follow the smell and chew us up in the night. And don't blame me if you can't sleep for the stink." There was a brief conversation in the next room, and a few seconds later a female Raider appeared at the doorway. He couldn't see her face but her shape suggested she was small and the way she approached him, angry, deliberately, gave him reason to cheer inside. She'd been drinking. And she was tipsy. She knelt by him and pressed a pistol to his temple. "Don't try nothin' funny, buster, or I kill you where you whizz." "I just need a crap," he told her. "That's all." "Come on." The Raider lifted him to his feet and marched him downstairs, told him to wait while she disabled the turrets, and then led him outside. She pointed at the street. "Go." "Here?" "Yeah, here," she said impatiently. "Come on, guy, it's cold out and I've got a bottle to drink up there. Get on with it, you mutie scum. Crap and go. And remember," she added, waving her pistol, "I got you covered. One funny move and blam!" "Right, right. But here?" "Hell, what's wrong with doing it there?" "Those," Ricochet nodded over her shoulder, gesturing to the turrets. She glanced at them, not taking her eyes off him for more than a second. Not enough time to jump her. "They're off." "Sure they are. But I never trusted those things." "You think I give a shit about what you trust?" She asked him sarcastically. "Get the feck on with it." "Suit yourself," he replied. "But I heard tell that just one of those guns chewed up a whole Brotherhood of Steel squad that thought the damned thing was off. Water got into the controls, short circuited it, and it shot them to pieces." The Raider hesitated, looking over her shoulder again. Again, she didn't give him much chance to take advantage of her. "Yeah?" "True story," he told her. "Well, alright. We can move. A little," she warned him. "I'm not followin' you into no alley or nothin'. Come over this way a little. Little more. Little more. Right. Now, go." Ricochet was now standing below the empty windows that lined the walls of the upper rooms. A glow could be seen through half of them, from the Raiders' bin-fire, and he heard low, murmured voices droning on about something or other. The others, lining the prisoner's room, were dark and silent. "Well? What you waitin' for?" she snapped at him. "You expect me to unzip with no hands?" "For the love of," she began. "All right. I'll unzip you." She did so, approaching him from behind, coming so close that he felt her breasts press against his back. Her left arm slipped under his and around his waist, reaching for the crotch of his trousers to tug at the zipper in vain. He heard her hiss, frustrated that she couldn't manage with one hand alone, and then he heard a golden sound. The Raider holstered her pistol. As both of her hands reached around him, he slammed his head back with as much force as he could manage. He felt pain as the heavy bone of the back of his head mashed her nose, and a smaller pain as one of his tentacles was squashed between her face and his skull, but he ignored that. She squealed and staggered backwards. Ricochet turned, his foot swinging, and caught her a heavy kick to the jaw that laid her out on the road. He was already running when he heard the conversation stop from the upper level, and was into cover and working his way to freedom when he heard raised voices. No doubt they wouldn't try to track him; it was dark, and they didn't have the manpower to hunt him and keep a hold of their other captives. Nevertheless he took no chances and didn't stop moving until the first rays of dawn shone over the broken horizon. Only then did he allow himself to sink into sleep, and only then after seeking somewhere secure to rest. Just before sleep took him, he counted his blessings. He might be hungry, thirsty, tired, and weaponless, but at least he was alive, and he was free. That was enough for now. Edited by Ricochet, Nov 16 2009, 01:46 PM.



Rhapsody~	Nov 15 2009, 03:27 PM Post #18
Get lost in the... wait do I HAVE to change it?! D: Posts: 651 Group: S Rank Knight Member #10,242 Joined: August 13, 2009	(Well actually, we're going to be gathering after we all reach a town and actually acquire the "quest" itself, so really, any civilized society is okay to go to at this point. I'll wait for the others before I post again.)
	dusk. updates sundays and thursdays. Spoiler: click to toggle


Deleted User	Nov 16 2009, 04:50 PM Post #19
Deleted User	Crack. Crack. WOOSH. "F**K!" Shouted Ignatio, diving down as a rocket flew over his head. It hit a nearby boulder and exploded with a 'BOOM'. Once again he peered over the ledge. Below were two now headless muties, whom he had just sniped. He could've sworn there had only been two- but then where had the rocket come from? "Where are you, you bastard..." Muttered the sniper, looking around. "DIE, PUNY HUMAN!" A voice roared from directly behind him. Ignatio wheeled around, and with a loud THWACK, was flung over the cliff, as he was hit in the face by something large and blunt without even getting a look at it. Downward he fell, cutting himself on the sharp rocks lining the cliff. After what seemed like an eternity, he hit solid ground with a THUD. He weakly got up and removed his eyebot helmet, spitting blood on the ground. He coughed a little, and then spat out a bloodied tooth as well. "Ah, hell." Ignatio grumbled, taking a look around to get a view of his surroundings. He appeared to be on a smaller cliff, below the one he had fallen from. Up above he could see what had hit him...a dreaded Super Mutant Overlord, a Super Sledge grasped in it's meaty hands. It grinned down at him like a vulture waiting for its prey to die. "Come back up here, human..." It growled at him, "So I can RIP YOU TO SHREDS!" Ignatio frowned. He glanced over at his side to check that it was there- ah, yes, there it was. Hadn't fallen farther off the edge. "Well, human?" Laughed the mutant. "Afraid to di-AAAAARGH!" The mutant drew back from the cliff, clutching its left eye, as a steady flow of blood poured from it's now shredded eye. Below, Ignatio smirked and put down his Infiltrator. Dumbass mutant had forgotten he had two guns. "Now, where the hell'd my sniper rifle go...?" He wondered aloud. Suddenly he found himself looking upward- at the telltale elongated barrel of his rifle. It was still up above. Which meant if he wanted it back, he'd have to fight the mutant. "Oh, for the love of-" The sniper groaned. "...Well, I guess I don't have a choice." The cliff wasn't too high, he could easily climb back up. He looked down for a moment, at the two mutants he'd sniped...And hopped off the ledge. He had a plan. --- A few moments later, Ignatio was climbing up the cliff face, mentally preparing himself for anything. The mutant could be just out of sight, ready to knock him off the cliff again. And lord knows he didn't want that; his jaw STILL ached from that blow. He smirked as he recalled shooting the mutant in the eye. Stupid things. Eventually he arrived at the top, and peered over. "Now, where are you, you rat ba-" "YAAAAAARGH!" Came the telltale roar. "JESU-" Ignatio ducked as the hammer swung over his head, missing quite literally by a couple of inches. He heaved himself upward, headbutting the mutant in the chest and knocking it backward. Ignatio stumbled a bit, dizzy from hitting the muscular creature. "Oi, anyone get the number of the truck that hit me?" He muttered. He snapped out of it in time to see the Overlord rushing toward him. He narrowed his eyes, steeled his nerves, and charged in response. He had to time this just right... Suddenly, as they were barely a few inches away from each other, he dove down, sliding between the Overlord's legs. He drew something from his pocket... ...And skidded to a halt a couple inches behind the mutant, who turned, grinning. "HA HA! And what was THAT supposed to do, you stupid, stupid hu-" BANG. The mutant quite literally exploded into bloody chunks, a leg flying by Ignatio's head, while he sat there smiling. "Grenade in the pants." He laughed. "Works every time." He'd nabbed a frag grenade off one of the dead mutants, thinking it'd come in handy. Good thing he was good at picking pockets, or that would never have worked. He got up, dusted himself off, and picked up his sniper rifle, and shot it once more, killing the mutant with the rocket launcher, who had just appeared, peering out of it's cover. He looked to the horizon, where he saw the settlement of Big Town off in the distance. He nodded to himself; he should stop there briefly, do a little business, maybe get his wounds patched up. Slinging his sniper rifle over his shoulder, he began the trek AROUND the cliff.
Deleted User


Ricochet	Nov 19 2009, 02:36 PM Post #20
Angel Island Act 1 Posts: 43 Group: E Rank Adventurer Member #10,446 Joined: October 29, 2009	He hadn't slept long before rousing himself, worried that the Mezz Heads might follow his trail after all. They'd be angry, and angry Raiders were notoriously unpredictable, and although their tracking him was unlikely he didn't want to be without a weapon if they came a-calling. To that end he'd freed himself from his bonds - not a hard task, it was only rope - and begun searching the building. He was in the kitchen, now. From the drawer under the sink he took a long kitchen knife, letting the dishtowels drop to the floor as he opened it, neglecting to replace them when he closed it. From the oven he scavenged a pilot light, and from the cupboard he took two packs of Dandy Boy Apples, a pack of Cherry Bombs, and some purified water. The fridge was a write off; broken and empty, flaking, falling apart after years of neglect, but he was able to find some Abraxo Cleaner and an iron in another cupboard. He left the kitchen, entering a short corridor that linked the front door, on his left, the basement, on his right, and the living room, across from him. He moved into the living room, ignoring the skeleton that sat on a mouldy couch in front of a long-broken television set, and browsed a bookcase standing against the far wall. Most of the volumes were crumbling to dust, fire-charred, or water-damaged. All were useless, too heavy to carry considering what he'd get for them in a settlement. There wasn't anything else worth looking at in here, he decided, passing a brief glance over the floor, but he noticed a bathroom around a little corner and investigated there, netting himself four Psycho, two bottles of whisky, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. Ricochet unscrewed the top of a bottle, lifted it to his lips, and threw back two throatfuls, grimacing as the fiery liquor burned down his oesophegus and lit a blaze in his belly. On his way back to the basement he tilted the bottle to the skeleton. "Cheers," he toasted it. He opened the door and took an immediate step back as the powerful stench of rot whacked him in the sinuses. There were stairs down to the basement, and no light. Not good. There probably wasn't anything worth going down there for anyway, he reasoned, but he'd be better going to check than, potentially, leaving something of worth just because it was a bit dark. Ricochet took a drink, returned to the kitchen, picked up one of the fallen dishtowels, took another drink, grimaced at the taste (though it was becoming more bearable, now), and went back to the basement door. There he stuffed the dishtowel into the whisky bottle, thereby stopping the neck, and gave it a good shake. Then he fished out his newly acquired lighter, flicked it until a small, steady flame burned above his fist, and applied it to the rag. After a few seconds the rag took to the flame and Ricochet had a makeshift, unstable, temporary, but most importantly serviceable source of light. He descended into the basement, ignoring the skittering sound of rats as they fled from his approach. The walls were flaky, mouldy, sweating moisture, and as he reached the bottom of the stairs he realised why. A pipe had broken at some point in the past, and now the basement held about six inches of water. Stagnant, stinking, impure water. Things floated in it; things he didn't particularly want to look at. He didn't particularly want to set foot in the grotesque soup either, but steeled himself and sloshed in. Two tables, he inventoried. One empty. One littered with tools. Lots of dissolving cardboard boxes that contained, it turned out, clothing, in a similar state of disrepair. All worthless. He moved over to his last hope, a metal cabinet against the far wall, and found it locked. "Damn it." he cursed. No lockpick kit. The metal looked rusty but he couldn't be sure he'd be able to break it, and doing so would create a lot of noise anyway. Should he just go for it and deal with the consequences? After all, something locked away was likely a valuable thing. "Damn it. Wish I had a cap so I could flip it. Hell, let's do it," he said to himself. "I can always run if it's empty." Ricochet kicked the door, hard, and nearly knocked himself over doing so. He cast a disgusted look at the water and adjusted his footing. Three more kicks bent the metal of the cabinet door. Five buckled it crazily, but not enough to get inside. On the eighth kick it came off completely, the hinges giving out before the thin, rust-red sheet metal, and splashed to the floor. Ricochet grinned. "Jackpot." A combat knife. A sawn-off shotgun. And, the weapon that had made him grin, an assault rifle. Beside them he found the appropriate rounds, still sealed in their original packaging, along with a grenade. Bless the skeleton upstairs for frying its brain out with Psycho; that had probably been the cause of whatever paranoia had made him stock this arsenal in his basement, he reckoned. Ricochet took the weapons and returned to the front door. There he stamped out his makeshift torch and stowed it away in case of later need, gently eased the door open, and crept out onto the street. The coast was clear. A good deal more prepared, now, Ricochet aligned himself facing West and began his long trek to Megaton. There was still plenty of danger out in the Wasteland, but he felt much better for his remarkable find in the old house. The weight of the assault rifle in his arms was reassuring. For a moment, he thought about returning to the Mezz Heads, and savoured the thought of revenge. But then he shrugged and continued walking. No doubt the Wasteland would spring a nasty surprise on him all on its own. There was no need to go looking for trouble, as well.



Rhapsody~	Nov 22 2009, 12:18 PM Post #21
Get lost in the... wait do I HAVE to change it?! D: Posts: 651 Group: S Rank Knight Member #10,242 Joined: August 13, 2009	Alex sighed a deep sigh of relief as the Springvale School appeared in the distance, and then Megaton beyond that. He spun his 10mm around his finger--just in case--with a smile. He was almost home. He couldn't wait to get a bowl of noodles and some Sugar Bombs at the Brass Lantern and have a cool bottle of purified water and a good sleep in his own bed... "What the fudge are you doing?!" A female voice screamed, and suddenly the air around him filled with bullets. Alex ducked behind a large rock, bringing his 10mm up to his chest. "Shit! Can't I go fifty feet without a god damn battle?!" Alex sighed as the sound of a hunting rifle firing joined the assault rifle, then the sound of a combat shotgun... three Raiders. Not too bad, though he wasn't sure if the 10mm would cut it. He drew his hunting rifle hesitantly and checked the ammo. He had to make a few good, clean shots... or the ammo would be spent in vain. He quickly peeked over the rocks, various bullets flying by his head, and he looked through the hunting rifle's scope quickly, aiming at the head of a lightly-armored female raider wielding the assault rifle. He fired, and her body went limp, flying back a little over a desk and through the broken floor to the lower level of the school. Alex quickly ducked below the rock as shotgun shrapnel sprayed the rock he was hiding behind. "Jesus!" Alex exclaimed, caulking back his hunting rifle for another shot. He took a deep breath, waited for the sound of the Raiders reloading, and he turned and fired his hunting rifle. The round pierced the right leg of the shotgun-wielding Raider. He dropped his rifle, and emptied his 10mm into the Raider's torso. The Raider's body hit the floor, blood spilling from his chest. The other Raider fired a round from his hunting rifle at Alex, and it grazed his arm. Alex bit his lip until he tasted blood, trying to keep his focus. The other Raider stared at his rifle in confusion for a fleeting moment, and Alex realized he was out of ammo. "Man, don't kill me!" The Raider screamed, ducking and putting his hands over his head. As if. Alex casually approached the Raider and hit him with the butt of his rifle, breaking his nose. The bone shot up into his brain, killing him, and Alex looted his body. He got a few shells for his shotgun, the Raider's shoddy hunting rifle, an assault rifle with a good amount of ammo, and one of the Raiders carried a Stimpak, which Alex promptly used. He used parts of the crappy hunting rifle to repair his own, took the rest of the spoils, and carried on towards Megaton. _______________________________________________________________ "Hey, Stockholm," Alex called up to the sniper perched atop the Megaton walls. "Welcome to Megaton. The bomb is perfectly safe, we promise. Please hold for threat level assessment. Threat level minimal. Open the gates. Open the gates. Welcome to Megaton," Deputy Weld, the Protectron, went on his monotone voice. "Anything good for us, Collins?" Stockholm asked with a smirk. "Eh, enough." Alex said as he entered Megaton. "Have yourself a nice visit, partner."
	dusk. updates sundays and thursdays. Spoiler: click to toggle


Deleted User	Nov 22 2009, 12:35 PM Post #22
Deleted User	"H-hold it right there!" The security guard stuttered. "O-or I'll shoot you!" Ignatio rolled his eyes. "Try it, kid." He said. "I dare you. Your head will be off your shoulders before you can BLINK. Now lower that gun, you could poke someone's eye out." The guard did not lower his 10mm pistol, even though his aim was being thrown off horribly by his trembling hands. Ignatio sighed, and then with one fluid motion, drew his sniper rifle and shot the pistol out of the young guards hand. The guard shrieked with fear as the bullet knocked the 10mm out of his hands. "Well, uh, you still can't cross the uh, bridge!" The guard stated, determined to convince Ignatio to give up and leave. "There's mines!" Ignatio said nothing. He bent over and picked up a small stone, looked around briefly, and lightly chucked it at the ground directly in front of the bridge, stepping back a little midthrow. There was a loud bang as the rock collided with a partially buried frag mine. This set off a chain reaction, detonating several other mines. As the dust settled, Ignatio calmly strolled across the bridge and up to the guard. "Word of advice," He said in a cheerful, friendly tone, "Don't mess with me." He punched the guard in the jaw. "That's for trying to keep me out." Ignatio snarled. He then punched him again, in the eye. "What was THAT for?!" Cried the guard. "Ever hear of 'Two for flinching'?" Ignatio asked, already walking away into the town.
Deleted User


Ricochet	Nov 22 2009, 02:02 PM Post #23
Angel Island Act 1 Posts: 43 Group: E Rank Adventurer Member #10,446 Joined: October 29, 2009	Nursing a bloody, mangled hand and a face full of rock-shrapnel, Ricochet did his best while hiding behind a rock to tie the dishcloth, taken from his scratch-built torch, around the long barrel of his assault rifle. He did so hastily, sweat dripping from his chin, because the same sniper that had written off his hand was taking pot shots at him. Ricochet was sure the sniper couldn't see him, and wasn't worried about him, but he was worried that the damned Protectron might flank him while he was hugging cover. And that. the threat of laser annihilation at the hands of a damned wind up doll, was what had prompted him to make a flag of surrender. Finally he managed to tie the cloth securely around the barrel. Wasting no time, he hefted the assault rifle above his head, holding the stock in both hands, ignoring the pain of his shattered extremity, and waving it gently from side to side. Blessed silence reigned, save for the metallic thumps of the Protectron's footsteps as it continued to approach. Ricochet kept waving the flag. A laser bolt incinerated the cloth, knocking the rifle out of his hands. He cursed and drew his sawn-off, sliding two shells into the sidelined chambers. "Weld!" a voice called, shouting. It echoed over the Wasteland. "Weld! Hold fire!" "Holding fire." Said a robotic voice. Damn, it was close. "Come on out, you!" the human voice called again. Ricochet stood, exposing himself to the sniper and the robot. Weld, the protectron, was an immobile mass of metal about six feet away. He ignored it and swept his eyes across the monster-scrap-town in front of him, seeking the sniper along the parapet, but he couldn't see anybody. "Come closer!" the sniper called. Ricochet obeyed, approaching the cleared space in front of the town. Behind him he heard thumping and knew that Weld was following him. As he got within twenty metres of the gate, finally spotting the huddled shape of the sniper on top of the wall, he was told to stop, which he did. Weld came to a stop somewhere close behind him, joints squeaking, and didn't move again. "What are you?" the sniper called. "Human!" he shouted back. "You don't look human." the sniper yelled. "Neither would you if you took a bath in radioactive water," Ricochet replied. "All right, I'm a mutant. But I started out human, and I'm hardly a Super Mutant, am I?" "Hold on." Ricochet risked a look behind him, at the Protectron. It was standing quite still, but its laser-arm was aimed directly at him. Its brain-case revealed nothing of the workings inside. He couldn't tell what, if anything, the machine might be thinking at that moment. Damn, he hated machines. "All right, come on in. The sheriff will meet you inside. Let him in, Weld!" "Affirmative," Weld droned. "Welcome to Megaton," it said, "friendliest town around." Ricochet just stared at it for a moment before entering the town. Inside, a tall, broad, rough looking black man in a brown duster greeted him with a deep-throated; "Howdy." "Hi." "So what do we have here?" the man asked, stroking his beard. He didn't seem afraid. "Just a wanderer, mister sheriff. My name's Ricochet and I'm from Dave." "Dave? You're a long way outta your way, boy." Ricochet shrugged and the sheriff looked him up and down for a moment. "You seem all right. I'm Lucas Simms, mayor and sheriff of Megaton. I get a good feeling about you, boy, and I'd like to do this the easy way, so. Are you gonna give me any trouble?" "I'm just a wanderer," he repeated. "All I want is some rest, some food, and some drink." "All right," Simms said. "Go on in. But remember, you cause any shit and I'll end you, boy." "I'll remember," Ricochet assured him. As he stepped past the mayor, ignoring the stares of several nearby citizens while scanning for a signpost to direct him to the nearest bar, he muttered to himself; "Welcome to Megaton? Shit."



Deleted User	Nov 24 2009, 01:20 PM Post #24
Deleted User	A few minutes after walking into the village, Ignatio found himself cursing his idea to leave Megaton in the first place. Not only were the Big Towners p-o'd at him for his treatment of their security, but, as 'luck' would have it, a Mutant Raiding Party had shown up, and Ignatio found himself taking cover behind a building as the security guards exchanged fire with the muties- fighting a losing battle. "These morons'll get themselves killed." He frowned, peering around the corner and watching the fight. "Didn't anyone teach them to use frikkin' GUNS?" He watched a guards head 'explode' as bullets from an Assault Rifle ripped into his face, spraying blood and bits of skull this way and that. "Apparently not." He sighed. "Looks like once again, Ignatio the Villain has to become Ignatio the Hero. What am I, Robin Hood?" He looked at the wall he was leaning against. This was definitely an OLD house, having been standing for ages. There were boards nailed in random places to patch up the wear-and-tear...And they were close enough together that they could serve as effective footholds. Ignatio smirked. "Jackpot." He quickly heaved himself upward, climbing along the 'path' of decaying wooden boards, until finally he reached the roof, where he lay down on his stomach and crawled to the opposite edge, where he had a clear view of the ongoing battle- which the citizens of Big Town were clearly losing. Ignatio propped up his sniper rifle, grinning. This should be fun. He took careful aim, as a Mutant Master prepared to fire at a security guard...Then CRACK, a sniper round flew at him and tore a good sized chunk of flesh out of his shoulder, like a miniature cannonball. "AAARGH!" It roared, clutching the wound, "WOUNDED!" A few Mutant heads swivelled around, confused as to who had fired the shot, and then one of their kinds head abruptly exploded as another CRACK sounded. "SNIPER!" Called a Mutant. Instantly they all ran for any available cover. Ignatio waited. Mutants were KNOWN for their bloodlust...one would come out at any moment. As he predicted, one peered cautiously out from behind a makeshift barricade constructed before the battle by the Big Towners...And he abruptly died, as a hole from a sniper round appeared in his neck. Ignatio paused as he heard something. It was a faint 'whirr' noise...But what could it- Suddenly a hail of bullets came at him, and he leapt up with a yelp, ducking and rolling to avoid the fire- Only to remember he was ON A ROOFTOP. "FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-" He shouted as he fell, and cut off abruptly as he landed with a 'WHUMP'. "I have been doing way too much falling today." He groaned, sitting up. "My arse hurts like hell." "HA HA, SILLY HUMAN!" Yelled a mutant. Ignatio turned to look...Of course. It was a Mutant Brute, holding a Minigun. He must've seen his position. Slinging his sniper rifle over his shoulder, Ignatio drew his Infiltrator. He stared down the mutant calmly, as it grinned menacingly back at him. "Bring it, b*tch." Ignatio said. They opened fire at the same time, Minigun rounds tearing into Ignatio as Infiltrator rounds did the same to the Mutant. Ignatio gritted his teeth as some of the bullets pierced his metal armor and dug into his skin, and the Mutant just kept laughing, as round after round fired into any and all exposed flesh, as if it was having no effect. Suddenly, Ignatio leapt aside, rolled, and brought his gun up to aim at the face of the taken-by-surprise Mutie. He pulled the trigger hard and let loose an entire clip into the mutants face. It screamed, one of its eyes fell out of its socket, and clutching the wound, backed up across the bridge in an attempt to run- And stepped on one of the landmines Ignatio HADN'T set off. "Well then, looks like what's done is do-" He began, and suddenly something whipped into his back, knocking him over and jolting the gun out of his grip. He flipped over, only to have a pair of gross, slimy tongues wrap around his arms to hold him down. A third began to wrap around his neck. It was a Centaur- the Mutants had brought one of their Watchdogs, and in all the chaos, the sniper hadn't noticed it. He struggled to break free as his oxygen began to deplete. Looking around wildly, he noticed his gun was too far away to reach. Suddenly he noticed the corpse of a Security Guard next to him- a Ripper clutched in his cold, bloodied, dead hands. Thinking quickly, Ignatio kicked the Centaur in the face. In surprise, it let go of him and made a gurgling roar of surprise. Ignatio's hand shot for the Ripper. He gripped it tightly, fingers clamping down on the trigger, and he swung, digging it into the flesh of the Centaur's midsection. It shrieked in fear and pain as the miniature chainsaw ripped its flesh as though it were paper. Before it had time to react, the blades of the Ripper tore into its heart and killed it. Ignatio got up, tried to wipe some of the blood off his armor, and then pried the Ripper out of the dead mutant with a 'squelch'. He looked it over- really poor condition, was liable to break soon. But he'd hang onto it...it's not like it's previous owner needed it. He sighed, and looked around as the Big Towners emerged from hiding. "So," He said cheerfully, "Anyone wanna help me patch up my bullet wounds, or should I just pass out from blood loss now?"
Deleted User


RabidChoco	Nov 25 2009, 07:52 AM Post #25
Sandopolis Act 2 Posts: 2,402 Group: S Rank Hero Member #6,608 Joined: March 11, 2008 Gender: Male Country: Belgium 3DS Friend Code: 1521-5016-9168 Steam ID: RabidChoco Game Currently Playing: Persona Q: Shadow of the Labyrinth	Damn. Darrin had found the Raiders, all right, or more accurately, they'd ambushed him. He had a little surprise for them in a tin can, though: a cocktail of Quantum, Abraxo, and turpentine. He'd heard of it's destructive properties, he recalled as he tossed the can into the air. He hadn't expected the blast to be that big. At least he'd taken out half the raiders and scared the rest of them off. At the cost of what felt like a broken arm, a broken leg, and a sudden bout of rad sickness. Hell, there were probably people as far as the Pitt that might have heard that one. In the distance, he saw the silhouette of Megaton below him. He used his makeshift rifle as a crutch to get down into the valley where the shantytown lay.
	Indeed, there is nothing more repulsive than these monsters that defy nature and are known by the name of witcher, as they are the offspring of foul sorcery and witchcraft. They are unscrupulous scoundrels without conscience and virtue, veritable creatures from hell capable only of taking lives. They have no place amongst decent and honest folk.


Ricochet	Nov 28 2009, 01:39 AM Post #26
Angel Island Act 1 Posts: 43 Group: E Rank Adventurer Member #10,446 Joined: October 29, 2009	He woke up with such force that he cracked the wall behind him. From corpse-still to sitting up in two seconds, removing his face from the table with a sticky slurp and bringing it into contact with a soft-plaster whud. Immediate pain made him coil up, chest against knees, and clutch his tentacled head, but then the pain of his hangover headache came home, knocking before entering with a tiny pulse of pressure at his temples, and ruled his skull. His stomach lurched. By all the Rad, what did I drink last night? He was pretty much alone in Moriarty's saloon. There were three still comatose drunkies around him, sleeping with their heads thrown back, snoring, or faces diwn, like he had been a moment ago. One had even tumbled from his chair and landed on the floor. From upstairs he could hear the thump-moan of the whore at work, but apart from that there was no sound, no movement, to disturb the morning. He wondered where the barman was. "Gob?" Gob? Ah, yes, Gob, how could he have forgotten? The cringing sycophant. Yes boss, yes boss, to his face, then muttering curses as he turned away. Ricochet remembered vowing to pay him back for his insolence, under the influence of a few bottles, and then forgetting it in a haze of alcoholic exuberance. He remembered first coming in, when Gob hadn't seemed all that bad, surprised at his easy talk and manner - no doubt the Ghoul wasn't used to such free-minded people, but Ricochet could hardly dislike people for the colour of their skin, now, could he? Being yellow and all. Wasn't he saying he slept behind the bar? "Gob!" he raised his voice. "Damn it, I need breakfast. Where are you?" _ OOC: If you wanna start some character-interaction, feel free to insert yourself as one of the drunkies



Deleted User	Nov 29 2009, 10:22 AM Post #27
Deleted User	<Oookay, well, since the plot hasn't been furthered yet, I'll just head for Megaton, since that seems to be 'the place to be'. xP> Out of the frying pan... Ignatio thought as he dove for cover, ...And into the fire. Why me? The sniper cautiously peered out of hiding spot behind a bunch of rocks. Before him was a sight to behold; a great mechanical contraption descended from the skies, four 'legs' unfolding so it could land. From out of the flying machine, known as a 'Vertibird', three men clad in night black armor emerged. Two of them carried rifles that glowed green at the tip, the trademark 'Plasma Rifle' used so often by the Enclave. The other carried a missle launcher. The Vertibird lifted off, and the three soldiers went about their work, unloading Enclave crates. Ignatio cursed his luck, they seemed to be setting up a base camp, meaning they wouldn't be leaving any time soon. Unslinging his Infiltrator, he readied himself for combat, when suddenly there was a cry from one of the soldiers, as a bullet bounced off his shoulderplate. "FOR EDEN!" He yelled, firing a round of plasma off at his foe, who Ignatio could not see. The other two soldiers rushed to his side to help, as a rapid barrage of bullets came at that- the rapid barrage signature of a Minigun. The soldiers suddenly turned and ran, as one of them was cut down by the hail of ammo. As they did, Ignatio saw their foes; a pair of Super Mutants, a Master and a Brute. "I have had ENOUGH of those yellowskins today." Ignatio muttered to himself, once again prepping for combat, just as a bolt of plasma sailed into the face of the Brute, and the muscular mutant disintegrated with a cry of "IMPOSSIB- Urgh..." The sniper wisely decided to wait to see the outcome of the battle. He looked around. The Enclave soldiers seemed to have taken up position behind cover, because he couldn't see them anywhere, and from the looks of it, neither could the Master with the Minigun. "Come out and FIGHT!" It roared angrily. "You want a fight? Take THIS, mutant scum!" Replied an Enclave soldier. The soldier suddenly popped out from behind a rock formation, and lobbed a green object at the mutant, who merely watched it fly toward him in confusion. It landed at the mutants feet, and exploded with a blast of green light, frying the mutant as it let out a horrible dying scream. "Plasma grenades," Chuckled the soldier, "Never leave home without 'em." His ally came out of hiding, and they both laughed, until suddenly the soldier who'd thrown the grenade's head suddenly exploded. "What the HELL?!" Shrieked the remaining soldier, taking out his missle launcher, and running towards where the shot had come from. Nervously he looked around, knowing that mutants weren't smart enough to have snipers, nor were they that good at staying out of sight. Abruptly he heard a whirring noise, and a sharp pain in the back of his neck. He let out a gurgling scream of pain and collapsed, turning his head to see what it was. The last thing he saw was a Ripper lodged in what was left of his neck, and an armored foot, as a voice said, "Good night, you Enclave bastard." --- Ignatio plucked the Ripper from the neck of the Enclave soldier and examined it. No good. Bits of flesh were stuck in the gears- It was jammed, and very messy. Damn thing was as good as useless now. He tossed it aside, and shifted through the soldiers belongings. No food. He began moving through the carnage, searching everything. Nobody had any food on them, and neither did the crates. "They must've been planning on killing something for food." The sniper sighed. He paused. He was starved. Megaton was nearby- and by nearby, he meant 'about an hours walk'. He looked down at the body of an Enclave soldier and wondered, did he really want to wait? He considered this for a moment, then tore some of the flesh out of the ravaged neck of the Enclave soldier he'd killed. Human wasn't the TASTIEST, but dammit he was HUNGRY. He stuck some in his mouth, and chewing, headed for Megaton, some blood dripping down his chin. (Yes yes, he's a disgusting person. xD) --- An hour or so later, he strolled up to the gates of Megaton. "'Sup, Weld." He said to the Protectron as he passed. "Welcome...to...Megaton." The Protectron spouted for the eightieth time. "Yeah yeah, welcome to you too." The sniper rolled his eyes and passed through the gates. He looked around. The town was busy, people going about their business, that one preacher dude standing in the water near the bomb and shouting gibberish as usual...He briefly considered heading home, only to remember he had the day to himself. He fingered some caps he'd looted off a couple of bodies. They were burning a hole in his pocket. He nodded, and decided he'd visit Moriarty's- he could use a beer after all the crap he'd been through today. He strolled in, bought a beer, plopped his arse down in a chair, took his Eyebot helmet off and set it on the counter, and chugged it like there was no tomorrow. He hadn't had anything to drink since he'd left early this morning, and it felt GOOD.
Deleted User


Rhapsody~	Nov 29 2009, 02:35 PM Post #28
Get lost in the... wait do I HAVE to change it?! D: Posts: 651 Group: S Rank Knight Member #10,242 Joined: August 13, 2009	Alex jogged across town, ignoring the small-talking settlers and Megaton residents. He wanted to get to Moriarty's for a drink before selling his spoils off to Moira, and he sure as hell wasn't about to stop for the inane chatter of the residents. They were all stuck in this place all the time, and didn't have much else to do - but Alex was accustomed to the loneliness and seclusion of the Wasteland, and wasn't one for small talk or companionship. Besides-- "Collins!" A voice called. Dammit. Now he was stuck. "I'm in a bit of a rush," Alex sighed, turning to Billy Creel. "C'mon," he grinned and put his hand on his shoulder. "Can't talk to an old friend?" "I have deadlines, Creel," Alex lied, turning and walking away. "Catch ya later." "That kid's all business nowadays." Billy smiled nostalgically and headed back for his house. ______________________________________________________________ "Jesus, all these people do is talk!" Alex whined as he walked into Moriarty's. "Christ, they really need to get out of this goddamn place sometime..." Alex sat at the bar, leaving an empty seat between him and Ricochet. "Can I get a Nuka Cola with vodka, Gob?" "Sure thing, boss." Gob rasped, running in at Ricochet's call. "How's the pull this week?" "Could be better," Alex said, slapping down a few caps. "Couple guns and spare parts. Nothing great." Gob poured a bottle of Nuka Cola and some vodka into a glass and handed it to Alex. "Thanks." "No problem. Now," Gob turned to Ricochet, "whaddya want?" Gob scooped up the caps and tossed them in the cash register. Alex looked over at Ricochet, taking a sip of his drink, and he wondered what the hell happened. It was obvious he wasn't a mutant, but he had definitely received some impressive degree of radiation. He was impressed that he wasn't dead - he should consider himself lucky, even. Stop being an ass, Alex thought. Jesus, I'm being condescending. Alex shook his head and grimaced. "I gotta stop drinking this crap," Alex said with a chuckle. A door opened from upstairs and Nova walked out, stretching her arms behind her back. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Collins." She headed down the stairs, getting behind Alex and wrapping her arms around him. "How's my favorite customer?" Alex rolled his eyes, but he couldn't hide a bit of a smile. "Ugh, Nova, you were just upstairs with a guy." He gave her a disgusted look and threw her arms off of him. She giggled and lit a cigarette, starting to smoke. "Hey, you two hear about those Ghoul attacks down on Tenpenny Tower?" Alex turned around to face Nova, and glanced over at Ricochet. "You mean that big tower full of spoiled rich brats to the south-west?" "Yep. Turns out this guy, Roy somethin' or something, him and a buncha Feral Ghouls are trynna' get into the tower. And that Tenpenny bastard is keeping 'em out." "Bigot." Gob mumbled. Alex laughed a bit and thought the situation over. "Hm, I should definitely check this situation out... could be interesting." Alex smirked and tossed a few caps to Gob as a tip. "Seeya around," Alex called back as he rushed out the door.
	dusk. updates sundays and thursdays. Spoiler: click to toggle


Deleted User	Nov 29 2009, 02:55 PM Post #29
Deleted User	Ignatio had heard the entire conversation, and watched with interest as Alex left the bar. He got up, and headed for the door. "Tenpenny Tower, eh?" He murmured to himself. "Sounds like a moneymaking opportunity if I ever heard of one." He kicked open the door and dashed off. He'd seen that kid run out the door- he was going to Tenpenny Tower, no doubt. And Ignatio wanted to be first there. He could SMELL money in the air, and nothing would make Rich happier than if he went off and earned them some cash while he was gone. Besides, they needed the funds. Maintenence for the Vertibird didn't come cheap, you know. He charged past Alex, shoving him aside. "Move it, kid." He snarled, as he headed for the gate. (Feel free to chase after him and let him know he's an arse. xD)
Deleted User


RabidChoco	Nov 29 2009, 02:57 PM Post #30
Sandopolis Act 2 Posts: 2,402 Group: S Rank Hero Member #6,608 Joined: March 11, 2008 Gender: Male Country: Belgium 3DS Friend Code: 1521-5016-9168 Steam ID: RabidChoco Game Currently Playing: Persona Q: Shadow of the Labyrinth	The second doctor he had visited in the same day, Doc Church, was definitely different from what he was used to. Hell, Megaton was definitely different from Rivet City. "Now I wouldn't use that arm for at least half a day. It's not broken, just sprained, thank God, or you'd be a hell of a lot worse off." In response, Darrin hissed in pain as Church tightened the splint. "You big baby. You're definitely not Talon, are you?" "No, there's just nothing to get rid of the insignia on this piece of crap armor." "What'd you say you did again?" "Scavenge for scrap and try to make something resembling weapons out of it," Darrin said. "Go talk to Moira about that sort of thing. I'm sure she's got something that'll help you out if you want to work on it from here. She's up in Craterside Supply, up the ramp outside and over the clinic," Church told him. "Yeah, I'll do that." Right after I get myself a drink. Whatever he's used to numb the arm is giving me a headache. Shortly after, he'd walked over to the saloon, his armor earning him several silent dirty looks from the settlers, dropped a handful of caps on the bar and asked for some whiskey. He found himself sitting between some kind of mutant, though not of the 'Super' persuasion, and a merc with some nasty-looking rashes, who promptly left. A guy from the Pitt, this far south? Wow. "What the hell happened to you?" He asked of Ricochet. Edited by RabidChoco, Nov 29 2009, 02:59 PM.
	Indeed, there is nothing more repulsive than these monsters that defy nature and are known by the name of witcher, as they are the offspring of foul sorcery and witchcraft. They are unscrupulous scoundrels without conscience and virtue, veritable creatures from hell capable only of taking lives. They have no place amongst decent and honest folk.


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