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

[Misthral]

● Hackerxxx● Mechanicxxx● Presence

Location: Power StationxxxCompany: Alone?xxxWellbeing: Tired, Workingxxx

OOC: Power should come back on soon? I'll let Braxy decide.xxx

Absent mindedly, Dean was leaning closer and closer to his light source. Since the sun had set he was now totally reliant on the many propane lanterns dotted around the station. He was beginning to feel like he'd been stripping back wires, and repairing connections for days, rather than hours. Despite the caffeine drinks, Dean could feel the need to sleep constantly clawing at his insides. He'd been feeling the lack of sleep this morning, so was it any wonder that he felt horrible now. However, fixing the station was a priority, and he felt that a lot of people were counting on him to do just that. "Ugh," he exclaimed as he fumbled and undid about five minutes work in one second. He leaned away from the lamp and instantly felt the protest in his back. It was time to take another short break. The repairman reached for his crutch, and hauled himself up. While vertical he rubbed his face and eyes, trying to brush the sleep away. All he had to do was focus for a bit longer and then power should be restored.

Dean selected a Nuka-Cola from the case that Dean had insisted on paying for. Despite doing his service to the town, Dean was an honest man and couldn't accept charity when he did not require it. Like Shawn he ran a business, he has a few jobs and hence plenty of income to cover his living costs. He popped the top and shoved the cap into his pocket. Fortunately the drink was refreshing and livened his senses. Unfortunately, Dean knew it wouldn't last long. He stretched and groaned, then dutifully returned to his work load. At least it wouldn't be long now before the power would be back on. He could fine tune the fix after some sleep.


Wearing: Merc Grunt Outfit [Black Shirt, Khaki Pants]
Packing: 10mm Pistol [Modded]
Carrying: Med X [2], Crutch, Radio.

[Bog Lord]

Shawn Levesque


Smoothtalker xxx●xxx Presence xxx●xxx Fancy Footwork


[ Wellbeing ] Jus' dandyxxx[ Company ] Anyone at the Barxxx[ Whereabouts ] The Fission Hole

"You're a bad Fish," Shawn growled under his breath as, to hell with it, he downed half his own glass. He replenished Stella's empty one and topped his. He raised at hand to Daniel. "Hey, Daniel. Thanks for holding the fort earlier... er..."

He pursed his lips and fell silent, listening to Stella's speak of her friend and boast of Falls Creek. It was a nice place as far as Wasteland towns went, or so the bartender had always believed... but he was positive he didn't want the place to be his grave. Or anyone else's, unless they were raider scum. His nerves were jittery once again, so he reached into his pocket for a pack only recently opened, pulled out a cigarette and had it lit within a few seconds.

The one long drag was all he needed to calm down again. He exhaled the smoke away from his patrons faces, and looked at each of them in turn. "That's damn awful luck for the Dustrunners," he remarked. Shawn mentally kicked himself. Just tell them! They need to know! Get a move on!

"I've got an update for you, too. I went with Angus, Silas and Princess for a walk-about the northern side of town while you were at the station. Some of Hackett's goons came by from that way, and we ran into them." He couldn't keep the grimace from his face. "They've got Reynoldsville stamped down. We're next, but they asked if we wanted to surrender. I told them no, of course."

He looked up through the bar, where Laurie the waitress saw to other patrons. He settled on Max and Stella. "Since they're bound to hit us sooner than later, I've decided to shut down the mine so the workers can focus on their families and defenses, and put what caps I have into paying local mercs for protection. Either of you willing to negotiate a contract?"

[ 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 ] we'reallgonnadiieeeee

[Babalu X]

Max Burrows
Danger Sense xxx●xxx Hyperesthesia xxx●xxx Die Hard

[ Location ] Fission Hole xxx●xxx [ Company ] Bar Patrons

[ Wearing ] Un-buttoned up shirt over a white tank top, jeans. xxx●xxx [ Carrying ] .44 Desert Eagle, Cigarette Pack, Lighter

"Count me in." Max said simply before he downed another shot and awaited another as Stella confirmed a "next time" and that she hasn't seen action like this in a long time. "You n' me both." He guesses a year seemed like a long time. His life has been pretty toned down since he stumbled upon Falls Creek. He thought about it for a minute as he puffed his cigarette while Stella stuck her tongue at Shawn. He would then proceed to listen as she spoke about her and her friend, Valentine. How she and a few walked into a minefield and how the "cretins" have been busy. Then she mentioned how Falls Creek would be a good place to be stuck in as any. "As far as a Wasteland town goes...sure." He responded simply before he downed another shot. "If you ask me though, the world's gone to s**t a long time ago, and if anything, the s**t's gonna keep piling up rather than goin' t's**t 'again'." He paused for a bit in thought. "Then again...your words probably sound just fine." He paused again as he crushed the butt of his cig in an astray, only to light another one. "Sure maybe the safest bet is the Vaults. Protecting from the 'outside world'. The downside is it takes just one or two crazy bastards to ******** things up, and you're stuck down there with the impending doom that you sought refuge from on the outside. Difference is. You're contained within. Nowhere to run. Only last hope being the outside you shut yourself away ffrom." He paused as he inhaled another puff into his lungs and exhaled. "Gimme an open terrain with a fighter's chance before I'd take a trapped safety and sheltered existence with a sure chance of a slow contained death." He turned his head slightly to Stella. "Yeah. This place is just as good as any to be stuck at."

He then looked at Shawn and listened in on his update. He hasn't been in Falls Creek as long as most (if not all) of the people here, but he's overheard a few stories about Hackett. It only took the words "caps" and "merc" for Max's interest to peak. Maybe he would see action once again sooner than he expected. "I'm all ears. What'cha got?" He asked simply as he awaited the proposal, smoking his cigarette.

[Bog Lord]

Valentine


Running Doesn't Effect Aim xxx●xxx Fancy Footwork xxx●xxx Survive Wound


[ Wellbeing ] Patched up & tuckered outxxx[ Company ] Qxxx[ Whereabouts ] Falls Creek Hotel >> Fission Hole

She craned her neck a bit to study Byerley in the semi-darkness, one eyebrow lofted. Now she was confused. His query... just what was Mr Jumpsuit on about? Valentine only had to consider is question for a split second, however, before she patted his shoulder with her free hand. He seemed like a fairly nice bloke. And he was cute, which was never something Valentine was opposed to in her bar company.

"Well, every place is different, some places don't think you're quite right if you don't go to the local bar, others hold them as pers'nal sanctuaries and they'll chase you out with a stick... and not everyone likes bars. Garen doesn't, he's one've my fellow mercs," she assured the man, "but given today's excitement, maybe you outta' come anyway."

She turned back to the empty hall and motioned for him to follow. "I think you should come. We can get better acquainted for tomorrow. I'm not going to go for very long, need to get some sleep before tomorrows task."

[ Wearing ] Merc Veteran Outfit, Fresh Bandages
[ Packing ] 10mm Pistol, Switchblade
[ Carrying ] Flashlight

[ OOC ]

[Redneck Messiah]

Silas


Never Overburdened xxx●xxx Anything is a Weaponxxx●xxx Presence


[ Wellbeing ] concerned xxx [ Company ] Princess xxx [ Whereabouts ] Fission Hole

Silas had done something that he'd not done in a very long time. He sat quietly, and listened. He wasn't going to ramble about the kids of today, or grumble about how he didn't get any sleep last night. He was just to listen. See how things played out. A warrior had many strengths and even more weaknesses. If he was going to be fighting along side these people, he wanted to know everything he could about them before he put his life in their hands.

And that meant he was going to sit her and listen. He wasn't all that smart. But he was smart enough to know a lot about battle and war. This town wasn't about to go to battle. It was about to be thrown into a small scale war. The people weren't going to get much of a choice when it all started. You were either going to fight, or you were going to die. And for some, well they'd do both.

He took another swig of his bottle. The tequila burned as it went down. A feeling he had long been used too, and even liked now a days. He was beginning to form little ideas. Mentally running over a few things the town would need if it was going to prepare for a raider attack. A few extra defenses. A few extra precautions. Things that would be necessary for the survival of this town and most of it's people.

[ Wearing ] Lightweight Leather Armor, Trenchcoat & Headwrap
[ Packing ] Broad Machete [1], Combat Knife [1]
[ Accompanied ] Princess

[ OOC ] Whistle while you work!

[ExcessivelyTimewise]

ℚ Bץєяℓy

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

Byerley gave a stone-faced nod, slouching slightly when Valentine had to stand a little taller to pat his shoulder.
“Very well.” The sentence was punctuated by the somber expression lightening into a vague smile, his eyes were still wide and distant however.
“I should hope it’s enough to avoid being lynched in the paranoia…I haven’t had much of a chance to aid and endear myself to the people of the town.” He said quietly as he pulled one of the battery lights’ wires free of the small lamp it powered. "Not sure where to begin or if I should even begin and just worry about killing any raiders I see." In the darkness his fingers closed around the hunting rifle, which he would take with him--for added security purposes. From what he had heard from the lady that owned the room he was renting, the raiders were getting bolder.
He also took the time to close and lock the old flimsy door before he turned to follow Valentine, the floor creaking under his boots as he walked at a slower pace to avoid running into her or stepping on the backs of her footwear. He glanced down every so often to ensure so.

He glanced toward the floor with a frown one last time. It was amazing that the worn, graying boards could even support his weight without breaking and giving way into the basement.
As they walked, he tried to think of things to say, but decided against them. No one thanked anyone for allowing them to tag along like a large shadow, it was just too silly to imagine.
—And so he was silent, unless spoken to, right up until the moment they reached the Fission Hole.
He regarded the structure’s entrance with some degree of unease but never the less squared his jaw and took the first few steps, posture as impeccable as ever with the rifle at his back.

[Wild Cards]

Jamison Hollow

See in the Dark xxx●xxx Danger Sense xxx●xxx Hacker

[ Wellbeing ] A bit worn out.xxx[ Company ] Dustrunnersxxx[ Whereabouts ] The Fission Hole

In one of the rooms of the Fission Hole which had been rented out to the Dustrunners, a kid in his early twenties lay napping on one of the bare mattresses, resting lightly on his side with his head pillowed by one of his hands. He had removed his boots and his jacket, leaving him in a dirty white T-shirt, ragged blue jeans, and grey wool socks. On a nearby dresser rested a solid hunk of metal about the size of a bowling ball from the Pre-War era, although this hunk of metal had various attachments and antennae coming off of it. With the sun setting, the room was nice and dim, giving it a rather peaceful feeling... up until the moment that a couple of Dustrunners barged into the room.

Glancing over at the boy on the mattress, one of them, Garen, walked over to him and nudged the kid with the dusty toe of his boot. The boy stirred but made no other movement, and the Dustrunner whistled sharply to get his attention. "Oy, kid. You've been in here all day. This is your last chance to get something to eat, you know."

"Don't need food," Jamison replied, his eyes still closed. "Sleep good."

Rolling his eyes, Garen walked over to the mattress and casually dumped the boy onto the floor like he weighed nothing - which, honestly, he really didn't. Scowling, Jamison finally picked himself up off of the floor with a sigh, glancing over at the lump of metal on the dresser and grumbling to her, "You just let that happen, didn't you?"

"Indeed," came a flat female voice, and the unit seemed to come alive with a slight whirring sound, hovering off of the desk and floating over Jamison as he began to pull on his ankle-high black combat boots. "I assumed that you would have an appropriate reaction to the intrusion and therefore saw no necessity in alerting you to the consequences of what was about to transpire."

"Remind me not to take you into a Deathclaw-infested area, then, if you're not going to warn me when something is about to happen," he replied with a good-natured smile, pulling on the heavy brown trader's coat that he had been given by the Dustrunners when he first joined with them; unlike them, however, he left it unzipped due to the heat. He picked up a pair of goggles and wrapped them around his neck before sighing and stretching, turning towards the Dustrunners with an amused look, despite the rude awakening that they had given him. "Alright, I'm up. Now what did you need?"

"Chow time," replied the other Dustrunner, Sadeson, who pushed open the door for him. Jamison nodded in thanks and glanced over his shoulder.

"How's Valentine holding up?" he asked, jamming his hands into his pockets as he walked down the stairs ahead of his companions, with EVA hovering over his shoulder.

"She's a tough one, so she'll live," Sadeson replied. They made their way to the bottom of the stairs and strode over to one of the empty tables, with one of the Dustrunners remaining standing while the other two men took a seat. "Anything that you two want to eat?"

"Beer and steak," replied Garen, who was now sitting across from Jamison. Jamison glanced down lightly for a moment as though considering something before replying, "Whatever stew they happen to have and some water is fine for me." Sadeson nodded and walked over to the bartender with the intent of ordering their dinners while Jamison and Garen sat back, idly chatting with each other about the trail while they waited.

[Bog Lord]

Valentine


Running Doesn't Effect Aim xxx●xxx Fancy Footwork xxx●xxx Survive Wound


[ Wellbeing ] Patched up & tuckered outxxx[ Company ] Qxxx[ Whereabouts ] Falls Creek Hotel >> Fission Hole

"Jus' remember, Byerley: we're all in this together, okay? If you can take down some raiders with that rifle of yours, you'll be making an impact. And probably some friends, too." They left the Hotel without any fuss, with Missus Greene perched on her armchair before the old fireplace, a kitchen knife in one hand and a whetstone in the other. Valentine would guess that in homes throughout the town, other people would be sitting up awake in a similarly watchful manner, a weapon in hand or nearby.

When they reached the Fission Hole, the tribal turned off her flashlight and slid it into her belt. She unholstered her 10mm and handed into the waitress who stepped over to greet them. "Here ya' go. Byerely, she's just gonna put your rifle in the weapon check with mine, we'll get them back when we leave," she told her newfound possible-friend.

Her attention was drawn by a shock of red hair over by the bar. She grinned a little and her brown eyes took on a different sort of glint, one of recognition and relief. Valentine raised her voice just a little bit and called out to her best pal around. "Hey, Stelly! I'm gonna take a table." She waved, but stuck close to Byerely's side. She waited for him to check his weapon, then led the way to a table next to three people she knew by sight. Although he would have seen them earlier when the caravan arrived in Falls Creek, to Byerely she said, "That's Garen, my fellow A.Pex guard, and Sadeson and Jamison, of the Dustrunners." She nodded at the boys and took her seat.

Her smiles were diminished tonight. She normally greeted those she knew with far more exuberance, but when she looked at Stella and the lads from the caravan, what came to mind were the missing faces. It wasn't even that Valentine had been close with many of the victims, but the loss of her mercenary brethren was personal and she couldn't ignore the sense of failure she felt in regards to the dead vendors.

The waitress had followed over. "A vodka... and soup or stew or something. Byerely, want something? My treat."

[ Wearing ] Merc Veteran Outfit, Fresh Bandages
[ Packing ] 10mm Pistol, Switchblade
[ Carrying ] Flashlight

[ OOC ]

[ExcessivelyTimewise]

ℚ Bץєяℓy

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

”Okay.”

The concept of checking a weapon at the door wasn’t anything new to Byerley—he and Shapiro had been on the Strip once or twice and most of the establishments there required patrons to disarm themselves. He handed the weapon over easily, glancing over the faces before his light eyes returned to an innocuous knothole on the floorboards when he felt the others’ eyes temporarily.
“Ah.” He said quietly, more or less following Valentine automatically as he really had no idea what to do other than the attempt to slink back out after collecting his rifle.
His posture didn’t reflect any unease as he sat straight-backed and mildly avoided eye contact with the others until the waitress approached and inquired about their orders. He raised his eyebrows when asked about his own order before shaking his head and politely declining. “No, no thank you. I’m not particularly hungry or thirsty.”
Never have been. He thought silently, smiling slightly at Valentine’s incredulous look.
“More for you, in the end.”

[Misthral]

● See Twice as Farxxx● Danger Sensexxx● Die Hard

Location: Fission HolexxxCompany: Shawn & Max (Plus everyone else around)xxxWellbeing: Itchyxxx

OOC: Ah is sheet post. ><xxx

Stella was once dubbed 'fish' by old friends in A.Pex. As the name suggests, it was because she could drink like a fish. Only she preferred Vodka to water, or at the very least, something alcoholic. Honestly if Shawn kept filling up the glass, she would keep knocking them back. However as Shawn began to share his news, Stella held back her empty glass. Refusing a refill was odd for her. She listened to Shawn explain the status of the mine and nodded. It probably was the best decision. But she was tapping her fingers on the wooden bar top. "Don't want to sound rude Shawn. I honestly can't see anyone being against spending time with their families, but people should know. About the raider you spoke to." She didn't exactly look harshly at Shawn, but there was some disapproval there. Then she sighed, relaxed and pushed the glass back to his side of the bar. "Just saying, you don't want to cause an internal rift by withholding information, people have a right to know."

Stella glanced at Max and then continued in a quieter voice. "There's no point in sugar coating it. It's going to get bad, no matter what you do. If they already stamped out Reynolds, then we're in for some serious s**t. People need to be prepared." Stella took back her glass, and downed the clear liquid. She passed back the glass, and looked a little brighter. "You know you don't need a contract from me Shawn. I gave up mercenary work to come bail you people out of s**t. I reckon savage raiders fit's that profile. Wouldn't mind another drink though."

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

[Bog Lord]

Shawn Levesque


Smoothtalker xxx●xxx Presence xxx●xxx Fancy Footwork


[ Wellbeing ] Jus' dandyxxx[ Company ] Anyone at the Barxxx[ Whereabouts ] The Fission Hole

The bartender looked at Stella with definite puzzlement as he continued to whittle down his cigarette puff by puff. "Wait, what? You think I'm not going to tell anyone else?" He frowned at her. "I don't know where you got that idea, you know me! Of course I'm going to spread the word. Tell everyone you can and get it out there--all of you," he added, with a motion to include Daniel and Max.

Shawn added more clear alcohol to Stella's glass. "I figured you I could pay in booze. Your friend just wandered in," he added. He looked across to where Valentine had entered with a man Shawn didn't recognize very easily. Since Laurie was serving them, he didn't have to leave his post. He could hear Angus in the kitchen, fully awake and clattering around again filling meal orders and grumbling some sort of tune as he did so; what Shawn didn't know was that the mutant had placed Penny on a counter out of the way with a Nuka-Cola while he made up one massive Angus burger. While the teen waited, Angus regaled her with a silly tune the miners had made up about the Croaking Canary and how it got its name.

The blond addressed Max next, pulling a piece of scrap paper from beneath the bar along with a broken pencil. It'd do. "I was thinking you could do a couple patrol shifts, six hours or however it works out, a day, trading out with other mercs I intend to hire, and I can pay you by shift. If an attack happens, I'll pay you for a full patrol shift if you take down a couple--or more--of the bastards." He jotted down the number of caps on the piece of paper, which would even out to forty a shift, and slid it across for the mercenary's review. "Take your time considering it. If we come out of this, naturally there'll be a bonus if we're both still breathing." Shawn's smile was faint, but hopeful.

While Max reviewed the offer, the bartender looked at Daniel. "Now, I know you aren't a merc, Daniel, but... well, I figure business is about to be booming. I might need a hand around here besides Angus and Laurie. Someone to tend bar in shifts with me and Laurie or make delivery runs into town. Would you be interesting in doing so?"

Sure, the guy was a shifty sort, but he hadn't mucked up standing in earlier, had he? The gambler was closer to a drifter than a true settler and Shawn knew Daniel would need watching. But how better else to do it, than hire him and keeps tabs on him, and keep him happy with a flow of alcohol and caps? The bartender smiled at Daniel in a pleasant manner even as the thoughts flashed through his head. As long as the caps in the box added up, or weren't too short, he wouldn't have to rile up the miners to chase Daniel down. Besides, where could the bloke go right now to get away? This was a nice, tidy solution for the two of them.

[ 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 ] kachingkaching

[Babalu X]

Max Burrows
Danger Sense xxx●xxx Hyperesthesia xxx●xxx Die Hard

[ Location ] Fission Hole xxx●xxx [ Company ] Bar Patrons

[ Wearing ] Un-buttoned up shirt over a white tank top, jeans. xxx●xxx [ Carrying ] .44 Desert Eagle, Cigarette Pack, Lighter

"There's no point in sugar coating it. It's going to get bad, no matter what you do. People need to be prepared," Stella says. "I'll drink to that." Max simply responded as he downed another shot and awaited another. He then took the paper Shawn presented him and examined it closely, not really paying any mind as Valentine and another man walked in. Patrol duty. Just like the old days. Max was no stranger to it. Patrol routes in the hot deserts. Except this time he'd be paid for patrolling. Won't get that sort of commission at the NCR. He let out a gruff grin and a light chuckle. "Brings me back to the Mojave..." He said out loud, talking to no one in particular.

He inhaled another puff of his cigarette and looked up at Shawn "Normally this is the part where i say 'make it fifty or sixty a shift and you got yourself a deal'." He then held up a full shot in front of him. "But I think this will about cover the rest. Besides...I know times are tough." He downed the shot. "Y'got yourself a deal. Need to keep the trigger finger in prime and skills sharp. What better way than to fertilize the ground with raider brains? I ain't gettin' any younger, that's for sure." The call of battle. It's been a while. Too long. On top of it all he's protecting the people of this town. Seems a small reminder of of why he joined the Desert Rangers. Protecting. If he knew the years of service would beat him down mentally, would he still do it all? Probably. One things for sure, deep down he loves to fight. Desert Rangers, NCR, or none, the Fight is something that can't be taken out of him...

[Redneck Messiah]

Penny


Lockpicker xxx●xxx Hackerxxx●xxx Move Silently


[ Wellbeing ] Sleeping xxx [ Company ] None xxx [ Whereabouts ] Home >>> Fission Hole

It was like clockwork. Angus might be a big mutie but he had a heart of gold. His heart was almost as big as Penny's stomach. Which was grumbling in anticipation of the burger she was about to get. It smelled incredible. And maybe she had a bit of an unhealthy obsession with the large cooks signature dish. But, it was better than smoking!

Meanwhile, people in the lobby were talking about raiders and the town and boring stuff that wasn't really any fun. The power was still out. Raiders had always been a problem. The mine was going to shut down. That didn't really affect her in anyway. She didn't really talk to anyone in town, regardless of what was happening. She was more at ease in front of a computer that she was in front of a person.

[ Wearing ] Nightgown >>> Merc Charmer Outfit (Modified)
[ Packing ] Huge Angus Burger
[ Accompanied ] ...

[ OOC ] Short post is short. Brain dead at the moment.

[Bog Lord]

Valentine


Running Doesn't Effect Aim xxx●xxx Fancy Footwork xxx●xxx Survive Wound


[ Wellbeing ] Patched up & tuckered outxxx[ Company ] Everyone in th' bar!xxx[ Whereabouts ] The Fission Hole

"Maybe so, but you want nothing at all? I guess Missus Greene's meal-plan is doing you well, then." The mercenary put her elbows on the table and rested her chin in both palms after she finished scrutinizing Byerley. She listened for a moment to voices of various ongoing discussions going on at the bar and another table nearby.

Valentine tilted her head towards the jumpsuit-clad fellow. She considered asking him about work, a job they evidently shared as mercenaries accompanying traders, but decided that she didn't want to get into it. Time enough tomorrow, perhaps, to talk about their separate but seemingly similar arrivals into town. At least three of her companions were safe and secure not so far away, and Valentine knew the rest would be at the clinic, looking after one another. Trev's life or death was out of her hands now, and in Doctor Alcana's. It gave her a little relief to know the living were safe for the moment. She stayed quiet until her order arrived, and immediately took a sip of vodka.

"Oh, that's much better. Thanks," she added to the waitress. From the pouch at her belt she withdrew a tattered handmade wallet, and she passed over the caps for the meal. When the server had moved on, Valentine tested the stew. "Not bad. The meat probably came from Stella's hunting." It might not be easily identified, but at least the food was thoroughly cooked.

She nudged Byerley under the table with one booted foot to his. "So, are you a good shot with that rifle?"

[ Wearing ] Merc Veteran Outfit, Fresh Bandages
[ Packing ] 10mm Pistol, Switchblade
[ Carrying ] Flashlight

[ OOC ] I'm laying down 5 caps some of that vodka and/or stew will end up on Byerley before the meal is through.

[Bog Lord]

Event!

Bulbs in battered lampshades flicker and brighten into a soft glow within the Fission Hole, and the old juke box kicks into a low warble. In homes throughout Falls Creek, those that have operational lamps and ceiling lights no longer have to rely on flashlights, candles and lanterns. Computer terminals and other electricity-reliant tech are once more usable. The power station has been successfully rigged to function once more!

[Deeean, you're free!]