Middle of Nowhere - A Fallout Survival RP [RP Underway!]

[Bog Lord]

Literate xx●xx Open xx●xx Not Accepting Applications

A mix of Old West, mystery, action, adventure & survival!

The town of Falls Creek is a damn teeny speck on the portion of the map labelled Eastern Commonwealth, USA.

The isolated settlement isn't far from the Croaking Canary Coal Mine, and is independent, pragmatic and vigilant. It boasts a small population, composed mostly of farmers, miners, the lost, and the luckless. It's almost like Falls Creek is a lodestone for strangers with shifty hands, shady histories, deceptive tongues and heads full of secrets. But questions aren't asked hereabouts, and there's always a job that needs to be done. Nobody cares about who you are so long as you do what needs doing. The ideals, traditions and laws of the townsfolk are few and simple, but they are fiercely upheld.

Kill all raiders. Don't start none, won't be none. First food, then religion. Stick to your guns. Never pick up what you didn't put down. You are what you eat.
If you're going to be dumb, you've got to be tough. The pack flourishes where the lone wolf perishes. Keep your mouth shut and your head down.

It's September, 2285, and Falls Creek is having some serious trouble. And it's only going to get worse.
No one can leave, yet they sure as Hell don't want to stay!

But if you can't flee, when all you have left is one final option, when you have to kill or be killed...
Will you have what it takes to survive?

[ IC THREAD ]
[ PROFILE THREAD ] [ OOC THREAD ]

[ bad-a** graphic banners by Misthral ]

[ INTRO ] xx●xx [ RULES ] xx●xx [ PLOTS ] xx●xx [ ROSTER ] xx●xx [ NEWS ] xx●xx [ MAPS ] xx●xx [ NPCS ]

[Bog Lord]

• Follow all GaiaOnline TOS.
  
• Make sure to use (( )) / [[ ]] for OOC chat, but keep that to a minimum please.
  
• No God-moding. Do not apply your player/meta knowledge to what is happening IC; respect character secrets and boundaries.
  
• No killing others without expressed permission. Death is very much a possibility, but shouldn't happen without some measure of forewarning.
  
• Post-styles are not needed, but feel free to make pretty posts if you wish.
  
• Play-bys/images of characters are not necessary but if you want to use an image, you can. No anime, please.
  
• Writing preference is intermediate-advanced. Two to three paragraphs is expected for a regular post, but one great paragraph is fine, too.
  
• Do not be vague in your posting: be clear and specific.
  
• Romance is allowed, but respect the PG-13 limitations.
  
• Violence is allowed, but respect the PG-13 limitations.
  
• Cursing is allowed, but... yeah, you get the drill.
  
• Only the following races are permitted: Humans - Prime Normal, Tribal, Wastelander. Ghouls - the sentient kind. Mutants - Regular & Nightkin. Androids are give only with permission [PM Abraxia] and will require RP samples.
  
• Play as many characters as you can keep involved.
  
• Fallout-appropriate terms, gear, history, etc is to be followed.
  
• Required posting is once every week, desired posting is at least twice a week, with no more than two posts per day.

Additionally:
It is the responsibility of the player to craft a character who will work with the plot and purpose of this RP. They will need to be open to working with others, as a team, and while conflict is certainly encouraged, ultimately it is much preferred that that characters be played in pairs or small groups rather than going off solo.

If you have questions or concerns, PM Abraxia. I'll be glad to help!

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[Bog Lord]

Falls Creek is not unique. There are dozens, if not hundreds, of small communities dotting the Wasteland. The denizens of the town face the usual hazards of raiders, wild predators, seasonal threats, food shortages, pestilence and disease all the damn time! Less commonly, they deal with dangers related to the Croaking Canary Coal Mine, which employs over half the town. They're as tough as anybody can be in this post-apocalyptic playground!

Recently, the raider attacks exponentially increased. Three or four of the major gangs have been unified under the leadership of a single chieftain called Hackett. The attacks have been brief but poignant, resulting in various vandalisms, multiple maimings, two deaths and three kidnappings. Hackett's demand was sent back with one of those taken, the message stapled to the young man's chest:

give us the town and mine, or we'll come take it.

To give in is to accept the tyranny of the raiders, and the enslavement of the entire town. The outcomes of this choice is easy for anyone to see, and they aren't pleasant--torture, forced labour, and gruesome death to name a few. Thus far, nobody has dared send any sort of response to Hackett, except to return fire when the skirmishers show up.

To leave is to die. Some folk have already tried to escape Falls Creek. They didn't get far before a raider patrol caught up to them. Their remains were paraded for any to see, but were not returned.

There have been a few lesser problems arise lately, as well.

• Somebody has taken this moment of vulnerability to begin burglarizing homes. Is this just random thievery, or are the thefts personal?
  
  
• There was a collapse in the mine and almost a dozen people were injured, with a few of them still missing in the depths. The collapse doesn't look accidental, but the investigation has turned up no solid answers.
  
  
• There has been an increase in chems, and thus junkies, in the town. This results in less work being done and more accidents. Sooner than later, somebody will overdose.
  
  
• A recently-buried woman at the local cemetery was exhumed from her grave, and the remains found partially eaten. It was originally blamed on wildlife. Now it is being rumoured that there is a cannibal in town.
  
  
• The Sheriff's Office was burned to the ground two weeks ago before the issue with Hackett started up. Lost to the flames were the towns records and armoury, as well as the sheriff and the deputy. This leaves Falls Creek with a possible murderer-arsonist on the loose.

[ INTRO ] xx●xx [ RULES ] xx●xx [ PLOTS ] xx●xx [ ROSTER ] xx●xx [ NEWS ] xx●xx [ MAPS ] xx●xx [ NPCS ]

[Bog Lord]

[ PROFILE THREAD ]

Player Listing - NOT TAKING APPS
Mods - Goodwife Abraxia, Misthral
Confirmed Players - Alex_The _Lionheart, Babalu X, Ethereal F R O S T, E.V.A.N.G.E.L, ExcessivelyTimewise, GeeGeeGoJayBee, Hymn Damakos, Sithorn, Wild Cards

Ratios

• Total Townsfolk - 15
  
• Males - 9 xx●xx Females - 6
  
• Humans - 14 xx●xx Ghouls - 0 xx●xx Mutants - 0 xx●xx Androids - 1
  
• Hometown Champs - 2 xx●xx Accepted Outsiders - 7xx●xx Strangers - 6

List of Townsfolk [Player Name, Status]

• Shawn Levesque [Goodwife Abraxia, active]
  
• Stella Vasile [Misthral, active]
  
• Benicio Alcana [Sithorn, on hiatus]
  
• Valentine [Goodwife Abraxia, active]
  
• Q. Byerley [ExcessivelyTimewise, active]
  
• Daniel Bourdreaux [GeeGeeGoJayBee, active]
  
• Dean Marston [Misthral, active]
  
• Max Barrows [Babalu X, active]
  
• Jamison Hollow [Wild Cards, active]
  
• Claire Banner [GeeGeeGoJayBee, active]
  
• Allison Steele [Hymn Damakos, active]
  
• Lucien Gray [Ethereal F R O S T, active]
  
• Isaac Henry [Alex _The _Lionheart, active]
  
• Jody [Hymn Damakos, active]
  
• Luce Capet [E.V.A.N.G.E.L, active]

xxxxxxscheduled V I G I L S
Patrol - Walk streets, respond to Watchtower distress calls.
Morning Shift - 6AM to 12PM
Valentine & Ally

Afternoon Shift - 12PM to 6PM
Shawn & Daniel

Evening Shift - 6PM to 12AM
Stella & Q

Night Shift - 12AM to 6AM
Dean & Angus
Q

Watch - Watch the Wasteland outside of town for signs of danger.
Morning Shift - 6AM to 12PM
Stella [Town Entrance/Western Blockades Watchtower]

Afternoon Shift - 12PM to 6PM
Valentine [Town Entrance/Western Blockades Watchtower]

Evening Shift - 6PM to 12AM
Dean [South-Eastern Watchtower, near to the Garage]

Night Shift - 12AM to 6AM
Q

xxxxxxinteresting R O L E S
You are not obligated to take any of these roles!

However, If you want to be absolutely awesome and pick up a specific role to help aid the plot and purpose of this RP, then have a look! If a role is struck, it's reserved or taken. To maintain secrecy, a role-player is allowed to submit a modified profile for their public profile and PM the full details to Abraxia for a proper view.

PM Abraxia to reserve any of these roles.

• The Sheriff - The arm, voice and ballistic might of The Law in Falls Creek. They perform investigations, organize patrols and deal with all manner of threats.
  
  
• The Deputy - Assists the arm, voice and ballistic might of The Law in Falls Creek. They do much as the Sheriff does, but don't get as much appreciation.
  
  
• The Landowner - While the owner of the Croaking Canary Coal Mine isn't exactly a politician, their word--and caps--hold a fair bit of sway around Falls Creek and they're often looked to as a leader.
  
  
• The Doctor - The official medical authority and go-to boo-boo kisser, they certainly have their hands full tending to the people of Falls Creek!
  
  
• The Cannibal - One who craves blood and flesh to satiate a bestial hunger, they turned to the graveyard for a quick fix. A secret role, this position will not be made public unless discovered.
  
  
• The Dealer - Falls Creek is a dingy, desperate place with a surprising flow of caps. The bored miners are the perfect customers for a chem-dealing smooth-talker. A secret role, this position will not be made public unless discovered.
  
  
• The Fallen Knight - One who managed to successfully flee from the Brotherhood of Steel, but might have to put their unique skills to the test if they're to survive what is to come. A secret role, this position will not be made public unless discovered.
  
  
• The Operative - A member of the Enclave seeking out an old nemesis of the Brotherhood, they came near to discovery due to the last nosey sheriff. A little fire took care of the problem, but for how long? A secret role, this position will not be made public unless discovered.
  
  
• The Thief - One who steals for reasons that could be practical or pleasurable or personal--or all three! A secret role, this position will not be made public unless discovered.
  
  
• The Turncoat - Betrayal is easy when you've done it a few times. Going from slaver to civilian was a smart choice. Will returning to a raiders life be another? A secret role, this position will not be made public unless discovered.
  
  
• The Veteran - A rare specimen: one who has lived long enough and fought hard enough to earn themselves a few years of peace and quiet. An ex-soldier or former mercenary, their wisdom is much sought-after in such uncertain times.
  
  
• The Vindicator - One who has been wronged in the past, but got their revenge when they blew up the mine. But now they can't escape Falls Creek to enjoy their victory! A secret role, this position will not be made public unless discovered.
  
  
• The Vigilante - Eventually, someone has to say enough is enough... and take matters into their own hands! The Sheriff has a way of doing things, but so does one extremely determined townsperson. A secret role, this position will not be made public unless discovered.

[ INTRO ] xx●xx [ RULES ] xx●xx [ PLOTS ] xx●xx [ ROSTER ] xx●xx [ NEWS ] xx●xx [ MAPS ] xx●xx [ NPCS ]

[Bog Lord]

Updates & announcements.

Recent News: We recently lost three players [two have disappeared, one is on hiatus]. Some positions have been reserved and others opened with the changes, so check the character listing. Things're slow right now but still steady. Thanks for your continued posting and creativity!

RP Underway: Around July 8

RP made: Around July 4

[ INTRO ] xx●xx [ RULES ] xx●xx [ PLOTS ] xx●xx [ ROSTER ] xx●xx [ NEWS ] xx●xx [ MAPS ] xx●xx [ NPCS ]

[Bog Lord]

[ MAP OF FALLS CREEK ] [ by Sithorn ]

[ SUPER BAD MAP OF TOWN ] [ by Abraxia ]

"Falls Creek has one long main road that sweeps through town, and is bisected by the creek it is named after. Said creek is bridged in many places, since it's wider than a person could easily jump. One can assume that the large labelled spaces, e.g. "Residential Housing," contain buildings, streets and lanes not pictured for simplicity's sake.

The most populated area of the town is well-sized and established for a Wasteland settlement, with the West and East Blockades being a little under a mile apart [approximately]. The area pictured is only a portion of Falls Creek, in fact, with more dilapidated and abandoned structures beyond the scarlet line that denotes the rough perimeter. [This can provide cover for both the people of Falls Creek, AND the raiders.] The perimeter itself is not nearly as solid as one could assume from the map, but is made out of non-habituated structure, handmade barricades [made out of scrap materials, cars, etc], and, more rarely, short expanses of chainlink.

Small watchtowers have been erected along the perimeter. While some are actual wooden towers constructed to give a stable vantage point, others are makeshift atop sturdy rooftops or fortified heaps of junk. "True" watchtowers include Sheriff's Tower, Big Tower, High Tower, and Old Watch Tower, while rooftop towers include Canary Tower, Power Tower, and Garage Tower. Car Tower is a "junk tower," with a platform strapped atop a sturdy heap of, you guessed it, cars. All of them have been renovated to include a simplistic awning and a half-wall for watchers to hide behind."

The Fission Hole [ by Goodwife Abraxia ] - 2-floor Pre-War structure
The Fission Hole was likely always a bar, since it came outfitted the way it is before the Levesque family owned and operated it. The building is made of bricks, exposed in many places once the plaster was scraped off; the taproom has scarred wooden paneling and the upstairs has been whitewashed. The establishment has three primary employees: Shawn runs the bar and serves, a local woman named Laurie works as a waitress part-time and Angus the super mutant is in the kitchen every day the place is open [and those it's closed, for that matter]. The Fission Hole has two rooms for rent on its second floor.
Map: Topdown View xx●xxFloor 1 3D xx●xxFloor 2 3D
Markers/Details:

• 01. Double-Door Entry + Main Bar [3 tables, 1 furnace].
  
• 02. Weapon Check Storage.
  
• 03. Bar Counter [3 stools].
  
• 04. Jukebox.
  
• 05. 2 Private Booths [1 table, 3 benches each].
  
• 06. Restroom.
  
• 07. Angus' Kitchen.
  
• 08. Stillroom.
  
• 09. Fireplace + Seating [2 chairs, 1 table].
  
• 10. Double-Doors to rear Patio.
  
• 11. Stairway to Floor 2.
  
• 12. Pre-War Piano.
  
• 13. Storage Closet & Workbench.
  
• 14. Unit A - [Occupied by Shawn Levesque] - 1 double bed, 1 dresser, 1 desk, chair & computer, 1 sofa, 1 armchair, 1 table, 1 low shelf, 1 toilet & sink, 1 bathtub.
  
• 15. Unit B - [Occupied by the NPC Dustrunners] - 1 double bed, 1 dresser, 1 armchair, 1 shelf, 1 toilet & sink.
  
• 16. Unit C - [Occupied by the NPC Dustrunners] - 2 single beds, 1 dresser, 2 armchairs, 1 toilet & sink.

Falls Creek Hotel [ by Goodwife Abraxia ] - Single-floor Pre-War House
The hotel was once Missus Greene's house, but for the last few decades she has rented out the spare rooms to travelers. For 15 caps a night, a person can get more than just a bare mattress, and for 30 caps she'll throw in breakfast and dinner. The place is cramped and Missus Greene is widely regarded as being completely out of her gourd, but she doesn't pry, she doesn't snoop and she keeps the place moderately clean and vermin-free. [She's handy with poisons, and not bad with a varmint rifle, truth be told.]
Map: Map

• 01. Covered Porch & Entrance.
  
• 02. Common Room - Dining Space.
  
• 03. Kitchen.
  
• 04. Missus Greene's Garden.
  
• 05. Restroom [shared; 1 toilet & sink, basic shower].
  
• 06. Missus Greene's Room.
  
• 07. Backdoor.
  
• 08. Room 1 [Rented to Q. Byerley] - 1 single bed, 1 dresser, 1 armchair, 1 low shelf.
  
• 09. Room 2 [Rented to None] - 1 double bed, 1 dresser, 2 chairs, 1 small table. [Also called "The Honeymoon Suite" by Greene.]
  
• 10. Room 3 [Rented to Margret Keenly] - 1 single bed, 1 dresser, 1 armchair, 1 low shelf.

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[Bog Lord]

NPC listin'!

Angus - Male Super Mutant, Cook at the Fission Hole
Description: While runty by super mutant standards, he still towers over any regular human. His skin is greyish-brown, and his head is completely devoid of hair. He wears a outfit that consisted of a knee-length kilt and sleeveless shirt that had been woven and sewn by hand, with massive sandals bound to each foot. When he works, he wears an apron with a tool-belt hung with kitchen utensils. Angus is a culinary genius, and is actually semi-literate. He's very loyal and emotionally sensitive. He sometimes roasts things with a flamer, and he brews the Fission Hole's unique brand of moonshine.
Traits: Strength, Luck.
Perks: [1] Wield Anything as a Weapon [2] Bloody Mess [3] Survive Wound.
Equipment: Mutant Clothes, Cleaver, Flamer.
Created/Played By: Goodwife Abraxia [if you want to use him, just shoot me a PM].

Princess - Female Mutated Bull Mastiff
Description: She's big and beautiful and you ought to respect her. The Old Man belongs to her and lives in her house with her. [No, it ain't the other way around.]
Traits: Perception, Endurance.
Perks: [1] Hyperesthesia [2] See Twice as Far [3] Die Hard.
Equipment: Barrel Collar [Tequila].
Created/Played By: Redneck Messiah.

Missus W. Greene - Female Wastelander, Falls Creek Hotel Owner
Description: She could give the Old Man a run for his money, since she's even older and meaner. Missus Greene is the wife of the sheriff before the last one--the one who wandered off with Old Doctor Alcana and never returned. [It's no surprise that she is quite rude to Benicio Alcana.] She's relatively spry and quite wizened, with skin tanned brown and weathered by the Wasteland; her hair is close-cropped and iron grey, like her sharp eyes. She recently lost her daughter, Riza, to the raiders, and then her daughter's corpse was exhumed and partially eaten! She is in mourning, but she continues to rent rooms at her house because she has to make caps somehow. She gardens during the day.
Traits: Perception, Endurance.
Perks: [1] See Twice as Far [2] Danger Sense [3] Resistant.
Equipment: Wasteland Settler Outfit, Varmint Rifle, Knife, Bleak Venom [2]
Created/Played By: Goodwife Abraxia [anyone living at the Hotel can RP Missus Greene].

Dustrunners - Local Caravan
Members:

• Rickie - Mid-forties, Female & Wasteland-born: Caravan Master
  
• Trev - Late-thirties, Male & Wasteland-born: Senior Merchant [head injury]
  
• Nadia - Mid-twenties, Female & Wasteland-born: Junior Merchant [broken arm]
  
• Sadeson - Sixteen, Male & Tribal-born: Junior Merchant & Brahmin-Herder
  
• Garen - Mid-thirties, Male & Wasteland-Born: A.Pex Mercenary Guard
  
• Deceased Merchants Callum, Yorke & Renata
  
• Deceased A.Pex Guards Ari & Tommas

Created/Played By: Goodwife Abraxia [anyone can nab a merchant to RP if they need them for something]

Obituaries - relatively recent deaths in Falls Creek

• Sheriff Kleins & Deputy McGraw [C.O.D.: fire]
  
• Mine Accident Victims [C.O.D. various]
  
• Riza Greene & Tyler Dawse [C.O.D.: raider homicides]

[ INTRO ] xx●xx [ RULES ] xx●xx [ PLOTS ] xx●xx [ ROSTER ] xx●xx [ NEWS ] xx●xx [ MAPS ] xx●xx [ NPCS ]

[Bog Lord]

Shawn Levesque


Smoothtalker xxx●xxx Presence xxx●xxx Fancy Footwork


[ Wellbeing ] So far, so good...xxx[ Company ] Lonesomexxx[ Whereabouts ] The Fission Hole [Bar]


[ Date & Time ] Wednesday, September 6th, 2282: 10:00AMxxx[ Weather ] Cool, damp & overcast, not presently raining

The Fission Hole was the only bar in town, and as such, it tended to be open quite late. When Shawn had checked the wall-clock on his way upstairs, it had been a quarter past two in the morning. He woke up to the usual alarm: Angus, who stood in the bar directly underneath Shawn's room, shouted the bartenders name a time or six along with a gutteral, "BE BACK FROM MARKET SOON! BE READY!" Knowing from experience that to sleep longer would lead to worse than a bellowing super mutant, but possibly an irate morning crowd, Shawn reluctantly rolled from his bed and got ready for another day.

He usually took a while to fully come awake. Normally, he went onto autopilot as he combed his hair back, cleaned his face and hands in icy water from the basin, and donned the outfit he wore when tending the bar and serving. Today, however, Shawn was occupied with worrisome thoughts. He spent a lot of time pondering about Falls Creeks current state of affairs, namely the mine collapse and the raiders. But life went on and he couldn't spend all his time immersed in doom and gloom; he had obligations to meet, a bar to tend on the one hand and a mine to run on the other.

He strapped his belt about his waist, and the familiar weight of a .45 automatic pistol settled against his right hip. At least I don't have to manage it all alone, he reflected, not for the first time, as he hustled down the steps. The scent of fresh bread and slightly-too-strong coffee immediately caught his attention. Angus had been up and about in the kitchen already. Shawn began to tackle the chores he was too tired to handle last night.

With Orange Colored Sky and other pre-war tunes playing low on the Jukebox, he cleared the bar and tables, dumped dishes in the sink for Angus, wiped down surfaces and swept the floors. He built up the furnace in the main room, since the chill had seeped through the old buildings brick walls and hovered in the air.

By ten, the Fission Hole was in order and ready for any morning customers willing to brave the chilly Autumn winds for a breakfast special--or booze, if that's what they were after. The bartender wasn't one to judge people their drinking habits. Angus' return through the back was noisy as the super mutant unpacked the days ingredients he had picked up at the Falls Creek Market. Shawn smoothed the black apron he wore, so faded from countless washings it was now a medium grey. His slacks were black, his dress shirt patched but serviceable, his footwear identical to the clunky steel-shod boots miners wore. With a lit cigarette in hand and the fingers of the other wrapped around the handle of a coffee mug, he watched the door and mentally wagered who would be the first person in this morning.

Stella? The Old Man and his gigantic hound? Perhaps the doctor? The foreman or his assistant, come to tell Shawn the mine had finally caved in entirely? No, you musn't think like that, my boy, he thought to himself, in the same manner his mother had once chided him. He grimaced as he took a sip of the coffee, which was a little on the grainy side since Angus didn't always remember to use a strainer.

[ Wearing ] Bartending Outfit
[ Packing ] .45 Auto [1]
[ Carrying ] [In trouser & apron pockets] Cigarette Pack [1], Rad-X [2], Stimpack [2], 2043B Radio, Cigarette Lighter, Henry's Pocketwatch

[ OOC ] First post! c: Come plaaaay~!

[Misthral]

● See Twice as Farxxx● Danger Sensexxx● Die Hard

Location: Falls Creek // The Fission HolexxxCompany: ... // ShawnxxxWellbeing: Fine // Parchedxxx

OOC: First postxxx

On the wall a clock registered that it was just after five in the morning, the absolute butt-crack of dawn. In Falls Creek, most people would be oblivious to this fact, but Stella Vasile was not one of them. In fact, this was normal routine for her. It was time gear up and go clean out the critters around town before everyone else set off for work. However, it could easily be considered amazing for someone like Stella to hold down a job that required such an early wake up call. She was nearly always one of the last to leave the local bar at night, and was usually drunk by that time too. Honestly, her ability to wake up so early, despite having such a heavy drinking habit, is some sort of miracle. Or, perhaps just the product of being an alcoholic Mercenary for a little over ten years. Either way, neither the early start, lack of sleep, or alcohol seemed to effect Stella in the mornings. Unless she was brave enough to try some of Angus's 'Special Broo' the night before - that tended to cause unpredictable mornings. But fortunately there was no special drink on offer last night, and Stella swung her legs off the thread bare couch she'd used as her bed that night. Not because she didn't own a bed, but sometimes, after returning from the bar, it just wasn't reasonable to walk the extra distance to the bed.

The usual morning routine was conducted on a sort of auto-pilot, while Stella hummed some pre-war tune that came to mind. Mornings could be fun, and Stella liked her job, so there was every reason to be cheery. Wash, dress, tidy-up, shot of vodka, check weapons, gear up and go. She was out the door before six, ready to hunt down some critters. Today she was going to start near the mine entrance and work her way up to the pumping station, and then back through the main entrance into town.

Stella shot the last two critters around half past nine. People were starting to wake up by now, and head off to work at the mines or the pumping station. A couple passed her on the way back into town, and thanked her for her service. Stella grinned back at them, she could do little else with the load she was carrying - Angus would surely be pleased with the haul. Plus Stella was also a little curious to see what he would do with it. Angus's cooking was always a good adventure to attend. Finally, Stella opened the bar door with her foot, then held it open with her body, to make it easier to haul the meat in. "Angus! Order up!" She shouted, though not quite on par with the loud mutant. "Morning Shawn, hows s**t today?" With everything happening recently, Stella knew Shawn would be under a great deal of stress. To make matters worse he'd just lost his Mother and Brother in the same accident. Losing family was something Stella could relate to. Unfortunately though, her answer was to turn to drink and run away from it all, and that was clearly not on Shawn's agenda. "You hear anything more about that mine business? Still thinking it was foul play?" She asked, knowing he would realise she was asking about the cave-in again. Stella dumped the canvas wrapped critter corpses on the floor at the end of the bar, knowing Angus would be out shortly to collect them. She then took the end barstool. She'd be holed up here most of the day, drinking and talking to Shawn, plus others if they came in. If anyone needed her for work, they all knew were to stop by.


Wearing: Reinforced Leather Armour
Packing: Hunting Rifle[Modded], Sawed-off Shotgun, Machete, Hunting Knife
Carrying: Dead Critters, Canteen, Stimpack [3]

[Bog Lord]

Shawn Levesque


Smoothtalker xxx●xxx Presence xxx●xxx Fancy Footwork


[ Wellbeing ] So far, so good...xxx[ Company ] Stellaxxx[ Whereabouts ] The Fission Hole [Bar]

The bartender twisted about to look on his stool when the front doors opened, but he remained seated throughout the delievery. He shrugged and offered Stella a half-smile as Angus emerged from the kitchen. While runty by super mutant standards, he still towered over any regular human. His skin was greyish-brown, and his head was completely devoid of hair. He wore a outfit that consisted of a knee-length kilt and sleeveless shirt that had been woven and sewn by hand, with massive sandals bound to each foot. The apron tied about his thick waist and looped over his bullish neck was almost comically small. Atop of this the mutant wore a sort of leather tool belt, from which hung one of his smaller cleavers, a wooden tenderizer, a pouch of salt, a meat thermometer, a dishtowel and a slew of other useful kitchen-oriented items.

Angus moved forward eagerly to collect the fresh kills, his voice thundering in appreciation. "YOUNG GECKOS, SQUIRRELS, WHATEVER THIS IS--I CAN WORK WITH IT, THANK YOU." He left the canvas for Stella to take back, and arms laden with creatures furred and scaled, he tromped back to the kitchen and out the back door to skin and butcher the lot.

Shawn yelled after him, "don't forget to debone them, this time!" He stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray and set his coffee aside as he rose to take his place behind the counter. "'Whatever this is...' Oh, that bodes well for my tastebuds. At least there's pie to look forward to, he got a few early apples from the Market today." He brought out the lockbox and quickly began to count out caps to hand over to the hunter, but froze when she brought up the issue that more or less churned on his mind anytime he paused to think. He glanced at the kitchen doors, then put a finger to his lips in a swift gesture. He hoped he maintained his composure, since in his chest his heart seemed to beat too hard.

"Yes, I do, but shhh! Be careful! Angus is a little..." the bartender grimaced. "Touchy about their...passing. Can't speak about Ma or Henry without him tearing up, now that he finally gets that the searching is done and there's nothing left to hope for." It was true enough, if a little harshly spoken, but Shawn wasn't going to try and sugarcoat it. He was past the point of denial, tears and rages, and he had moved into a stage of despondency mixed with a lust for revenge. He wanted to know what happened and who had done it, and he wanted them to pay, but it was incredibly unlikely to work out that way. He wouldn't mind discussing the matter with Stella, either, but he felt too exposed while he was out working to do so. Angus made as good an excuse as anything to keep the topic hush-hush. Somebody else could come in any moment, after all. He slid her payment across the countertop, then turned around to collect a clean glass from the shelf.

"Can I get you a drink? Wouldn't be your first of the day, given you were here past midnight and all." He grinned at her. How she managed to pull herself upright in the mornings was some sort of phenomenon Shawn had yet to puzzle out.

[ Wearing ] Bartending Outfit
[ Packing ] .45 Auto [1]
[ Carrying ] [In trouser & apron pockets] Cigarette Pack [1], Rad-X [2], Stimpack [2], 2043B Radio, Cigarette Lighter, Henry's Pocketwatch

[ OOC ] *Static*

[ExcessivelyTimewise]

☛ ℚ вץєяℓєץ ☚

“I know now that there is no one thing that is true - it is all true.”

The past few days had been horrible, even a long-bearing patient machine like himself would admit that.
Scuffed, exposed fingercaps fretted against one another as Byerley sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the wall—eyes wide and almost unseeing as he stared past, through, and beyond that faded wall.
It really didn’t offer him any answers, neither did his probability counter. It often reported that he would perhaps survive an encounter with the raiders now that Shapiro—bless his worn junk-vendor heart—was dead and buried. The pack Brahmin didn’t look like it was going to survive its injuries either and that would mean one less person or living thing to worry about in his escape. Probability looked fine, it was in his favor.
So why did he stay?
Probability had no answer as Byerley pulled on his gloves and headed out into the early morning to check on the pack Brahmin.
The animal was where he had left it, but not just as he had last seen it. The animal had pull its post out of the ground when it died on its feet—despite Byerley’s best efforts to treat its wounds and keep it alive. He nudged one of its noses with the back of his hand, couching down next to it.
Poor, poor stupid creature. It was only doing its job and look where that got it.
According to the tactile web, he might as well be prodding a raw side of Wasteland Beef Wellington.
Given the situation of the town, that may not be a very bad thing. The creature had expired a few hours ago, but decay hadn’t set in yet. Chances were they’d think he was trying to poison them.
With a sigh, he rubbed the top of the left head one last time before standing and leaving the makeshift corral to find a shovel. Unlike Shapiro, who had made it clear he wanted his remains to be burned, the animal had to be buried before its rotting carcass attracted any sort of unsavory wildlife—the raiders were bad enough without bloat flies or nightstalkers running amok.

The shovel was worn and the handle more than cracked. It would do however, and Byerley began to shovel aside the first few bits of earth, a complacent expression with ever clod broken and every heave.

[[It sucks, my coding sucks. orz ]]

[Misthral]

● See Twice as Farxxx● Danger Sensexxx● Die Hard

Location: The Fission HolexxxCompany: ShawnxxxWellbeing: Parched // Finexxx

OOC: Crackersxxx

Stella stared at Shawn with a puzzled expression. Being shushed was obviously not high on her list of expectations, though she didn't take offence. She'd been audience to a few of Angus's emotional fits in the past few weeks. So she knew Shawn had good reason to be avoiding another one. Still, truth be told, she hadn't been expecting a decent answer either. Shawn had only told her his suspicions late one night, weeks ago. So in the end, it the moment turned quite comical, at least to her. The corners of her mouth twitched, but she forced a straight face. She thought Shawn was amusing in that goofy sort of way. Plus babying a super mutant, who couldn't laugh at that. Stella shrugged, and made a zipping motion across her lips. A few seconds seemed to pass, and all Stella could do was study Shawn's face. "You need a holiday Levesque," she stated, "you're starting to look worse than I do after a dozen shots of 'Special Broo'." The ex mercenary laughed, and slipped her Hunting Rifle off her shoulder. She rested it against the bar, between her legs, so if anyone were dumb enough to try and make a grab, they'd be denied.

"Yeah, you know me well. What can I say, nice place you're running here." Stella answered, forcing back another smile that was playing on her face. She liked to tease Shawn. While her usual drink was prepared, Vodka of course, Stella leaned back on her stool and glanced through the kitchen door. She couldn't see Angus, but she could hear the slam of his knife hitting the block, over and over. "Thanks very much sir," she grinned, and emptied the shot glass in one go. "Thirsty work hunting them critters, damn things insist on running in every direction." She complained half heartedly, as was her custom. Stella often complained about things, when in truth, she actually liked the job she was doing. "Anyway, how are you holding up here? Bandits sure came at a bad time. Didn't see any while I was out today though."

Wearing: Reinforced Leather Armour
Packing: Hunting Rifle[Modded], Sawed-off Shotgun, Machete, Hunting Knife
Carrying: Canteen, Stimpack [3]

[Bog Lord]

Shawn Levesque


Smoothtalker xxx●xxx Presence xxx●xxx Fancy Footwork


[ Wellbeing ] So far, so good...xxx[ Company ] Stellaxxx[ Whereabouts ] The Fission Hole [Bar]

Shawn made a face as he poured. Surely he wasn't looking that bad? It was true, he'd lost ten to fifteen pounds recently, and he wasn't sleeping enough... she was probably just kidding. He glanced at Stella, then snickered. "A holiday? For real?" he murmured, but now he couldn't stop thinking about it. A holiday? That'd be nice... His holidays before had consisted of visits to his sister, living in a different town, or forays out with his brother and a couple of friends to a bigger trading hub to the East. He'd welcomed those breaks from the monotony of life in Falls Creek.

But leaving the town now was... impossible, for numerous reasons. He needed to keep the booze flowing, and even he couldn't sell the coal to the usual traders who stopped in for it, he could have it mined and stored; he had to keep the workers motivated and, most of all, paid. The bartender studied Stella intently for a moment, then dropped his gaze back down to the scratched countertop.

"Yeah... tell you what. We get rid of those scumbags, and I'll take you on a holiday, too." He put the cap back on the Vodka bottle and returned it to the shelf. "Hell, I'll foot the bill for a free night of drinks for everyone in this town if we come out of it alive and this place doesn't burn down." Oops, was he being too grim? He meant it, though.

He leaned on the counter and mused, "do bandits ever come at a good time? I'm wondering what we're supposed to do... usually, we just fend off little groups of outlaws, kick them out of town or clear them off the road if the sheriff hears they're set up. But what do you do when you've got a huge group of them prowling outside your doorstep? And no sheriff?" He pursed his lips. "I don't think we can wait on them. I'm not handing the mine over to them and they'll try and invade at some point... I've been thinking of calling a town meeting, so we can try and figure something out. Maybe elect a new lawman. What do you think?"

[ Wearing ] Bartending Outfit
[ Packing ] .45 Auto [1]
[ Carrying ] [In trouser & apron pockets] Cigarette Pack [1], Rad-X [2], Stimpack [2], 2043B Radio, Cigarette Lighter, Henry's Pocketwatch

[ OOC ] What type of crackers?

[thepoisonedmuffin]

ooooooooLilianaScarletCarson

xxxxxx

Presencexxx●xxx Running doesn't effect aim xxx●xxx Stealthy

| Health | Unharmed | Energy | Rested | Chems | None
| Location| The Fission Hole [Bar]
OoC: Saltine!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Liliana woke up early to the sound of gunshots in the background. She quickly sat up and pulled the gun she had at the side of her bed in her hand ready to shoot at anyone who was in her room. Though quickly she realized it was just the sound of a shot carried from the distance. Laying the gun on her lap she sighed. This town was too small to have anyone come looking for her and especially at this time of the day. The sun was still peaking on the horizon. ''l'm going to kill whoever that is shooting that damned gun!'' she said as she reached for the end table by the side of her bed. Grabbing her eyepatch she slipped it over her left eye. The next step to her wake up process was the opened pack of cigarettes and lighter. Taking in the initial hit from her cigarette, the first of the day, felt like bliss. The first inhalation of nicotine was important to her. Not only did it wake her up more quickly then an additional five minutes of sleep, it cleared her senses. That half clogged feeling most people got when they were woken up during their slumber vanished as she expelled the vapors from her lips. The small ashtray by the bed she rented from Missus already have a few cigarettes stamped out. Most of them were at the filter and she sat there in the bed smoking the entire cigarette, her 9MM still in her hand.

Every time she thought the gunshots would end and she could fall back asleep, another one echoed through the quiet settlement. She made a mental note to find out whoever it was making the sound and put them out of their misery and did so every morning she was woken up this way. Damping out the cigarette in the ash tray, she pulled her legs out from underneath her blanket. Her feet touched the cold wooden floors as they walked her across the room to her backpack. Pulling out her usual attire of a hoodie, jeans and shirt, she slipped them on. It felt weird being a town that didn't really know you too well to her. A lot of the people were still frightened a bit by her appearance in general but not by her notoriety. She slipped on her belt which had a holster for the gun she held earlier and a few other pouches that already were full with meds, a spare pack of cigarettes and some tools she would use to break into locks. Though she didn't feel the need to open any doors, she still had the habit of carrying them in the pouches.

She sat back down on the bed and put on her socks and boots. Taking the multitude of knives she carried around and putting them into their customary places she felt like she was ready to tackle on the day. But as early as it was, she put her elbows on her knees and closed her eyes. Wanting to just fall back asleep, she thought she would be able to. She was starting to doze off into slumber but her elbow slipped off her knee, jolting her awake quickly. Starting another cigarette, she counted the amount she had left in it. ''Eight.'' She cursed herself in her mind. It was half as much as she thought she would have left in it. Taking a spare clip for her pistol and putting in inside one of the bags in her belt, she waited. She thought of going to go get a drink at the bar across the street. But knew better then to rush there like some alcoholic who waited up for the doors to open to get their fix. Her fit swung over the edges of the bed, her boots resting on the ruffled sheets she used to sleep. She inhaled another lungful of smoke and held it in her for what seemed like an hour. Exhaling it through her nostrils, she laid on her back and thought of what work she could find in this place to make some caps to pay her rent for the room.

By the time she got out of her bed she ignited most of the pack, leaving two left inside of the paper container. She figured it was a reasonable time to get up since she the gunshots ended and she heard someone else in the room across the hall shuffle around. Opening her door, she walked out of her room. She was the first one to the restroom, or at least there wasn't anyone else who was occupying the vicinity. Inside, she quickly cleaned herself with the cold water that they had in the room. Drying herself she made her way out of the room and into the town. There wasn't much movement but she could tell it was probably around ten or so in the morning. Reading the time without a sundial or a watch was a trick she was no too good with. There wasn't much to do in this place and she could feel her stomach rumble a bit. She wanted something to eat and hoped the bar could at least sell a decent meal. Hopeful something that would get rid of the taste of stale cigarettes out of her mouth.

She walked across the street, dirt kicking up from her boots as the moved her along the dirt road, and opened the door. The blue eyed girl, whose name she always had trouble with. She usual distinguished people with a demeaning name of some sorts. She walked over to the bar and took a seat a few stools down from whatshername. She had a feeling that it was probably Stella, but didn't want to strike up a conversation with her. It almost felt like a waste of breath to her. Pulling out her pack of cigarettes, she light the stick that rested between her lips. A large plum of gas left her lips and nostrils. She didn't feel like the common courtesy to give the two people in this room a ''good morning.'' or some other type of greeting. But when she entered the room she couldn't but help overhear the two talking about the two talk about a band of bandits. She'd like to put her two caps in about the topic, though speaking in about the topic seemed like a waste of time. To her all whoever was leading the town had to do was hire the best experienced with a rifle and pay them to put a bullet through the leader of the bandits. That usually scared a pack of people to the hills. Seeing their leader killed from about a mile away make almost anyone run for some sort of cover or the opposite direction the sound of fire came from. Though she wasn't really to give input on a conversation and to her anyone could be a bandit with the right price. She really didn't care as long as she was getting paid for the job.

The bartender, was somebody she really had not interest in, she had enough sexual experience with men earlier in her life, was the one conversing with Stella. Thinking back on the conversation they had on their past, went a little like: l'd like a shot of the house's strongest. and then he told her what he had and the cost. Wasn't so much a conversation as much as a tangent in his real discussion. Her past exposure to people taught her to not to trust them. Get paid, do the job and then return for the last half of it. That's how she lived. And thus far it worked for her. She was thirty-four, not like some kids who she killed in the past way younger then she was for more stupid reasons then she could comprehend. Sitting on the stool, she waited to be acknowledge instead of asking for the bartender. She didn't want to make trouble in some unfamiliar territory. Flicking the ashes off her cigarette into the tray of already extinguished cigarettes and cigars, Liliana sat there patiently, secretly killing of both people in this room.


|Wearing| Wasteland Wanderer Outfit, Eyepatch, Gloves, Scarf, Belt with pouches
|Packing| 9MM Pistol, Switchblade [2], Combat Knife, Straight Razor
|Wielding| Nothing
|Carrying| Pack of Cigarettes [1], Cigarette Lighter, Lockpick [5], Stempacl [3], Med-X [2], Rad-Away [2]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

[Misthral]

● See Twice as Farxxx● Danger Sensexxx● Die Hard

Location: The Fission HolexxxCompany: Shawn & LilianaxxxWellbeing: Finexxx

OOC: Cheese?xxx

Hiding concern, Stella watched the changing expressions on Shawn's face. She wasn't normally such a 'mother hen' with guys, but she did think Shawn was a little goofy. Definitely not like the male species she was used to. Plus Shawn was having a rough time lately, and it was showing. He probably didn't want to admit he was struggling, so Stella wouldn't bring it up again, for now. "Wow, you sure know how to treat a lady Shawn, but what will the townsfolk think?" Stella teased, wondering if she should go so far as to make him flustered today. It always was an amusing sight to see, even if Stella believed it was because Shawn wasn't good around women, not because Shawn wasn't good around her. "So we survive, and you're planning to go bankrupt and elope? Sounds like a plan, but what about poor Angus?" As she asked this question, Stella folded her arms over her chest and gave Shawn a reproachful look, like someone disapproving of someone else's parenting skills. She raised an eyebrow, challenging him to come up with a suitable answer, but he just decided to change the conversation back to the raiders.

As Shawn started to talk about the situation with the Raiders, the bar door opened. Stella glanced at the stranger, and instantly recognised that it would be pointless trying to make conversation. She'd been around enough people in his past to know when someone didn't want to make idle conversation. "I don't think a Sheriff is going to do us a lot of good in this case. This town doesn't have a jail big enough to handle the numbers we're dealing with." Stella appeared a bit sour faced for a moment, as she thought through how to deliver her opinion. Suddenly a grin spread across her face, "You know what, we should elect the Old Man. Hell if he can keep people off that patch of weeds he calls a 'lawn', why not keep raiders out of the town?" The idea of it made her hang onto the bar, lean back on her stool and laugh out loud. It might not seem like such a hilarious idea, if the Old Man wasn't so grumpy. "Town meeting though, that sounds like a good plan. Would be good to make sure everyone is on the same page. We're going to have to work together to get through this." Stella glanced at Liliana, not so much wondering what the one-eyed lady thought of working together, but what the strangers in general would think. Everyone was stuck in this together now. "Say, you hear Dean's giving out weapon and armour repairs for free now? That's the sort of help we need from people."

Stella watched at Shawn went to serve Liliana, and then tossed a smile in the stranger's direction. "You know you'd be better calling for Angus. His 'Special Broo' will take a few layers off your stomach lining." Stella laughed to herself and turned back to the counter.


Wearing: Reinforced Leather Armour
Packing: Hunting Rifle[Modded], Sawed-off Shotgun, Machete, Hunting Knife
Carrying: Canteen, Stimpack [3]