"i see..." there was a long drawn out silence "well of you live by morning be sure to drop by my store around the corner and ill give you a discount on some old fasion weapons."
Post Apocalyptic Western: Episode 2
- Thread starter PedroSteckecilo
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"No thanks, I've got a gun" he pulls out his pistol. "I could use some ammo and flash-light batteries."
Being completely engrossed in his work, Rick takes no heed of the various crashing and falling noises. Removing the final shell-splinter with a pair of tweesers, he muttered a silent prayer to whatever deity still around for having the decency of knocking the well-dressed man out.
'This will most definitely hurt in the morning' He though for himself as he splashed the wound with alchohol, and began to stich it up with a needle in one hand, and dropping the splinter onto the neat pile that he had begun to build to the side of him.
'What kind of shell has this much metal in it anyways?' He thought as he eyed the pile. 'I wonder if this could be worth something to someone?'
Finishing up the stiching, Rick swiftly produced a roll of bandage, and tied up the wound nicely. "That'll do the trick! Still haven't lost it" He proclaimed to no-one in particular with a broad smile on his face, and splashed the rest of the alchohol in the bottle in the downed mans face.
Moving up into a squat, he examined his work. 'Hmm. I was a bit sloppy though. He lost quite a bit of blood. Shoul'dave done something about the veins earlier' He thought, eyeing the splattered, dark red stains on the floor. "You don't mind, do you?" He said to the bartender, leaning back and pointing at the blood.
'This will most definitely hurt in the morning' He though for himself as he splashed the wound with alchohol, and began to stich it up with a needle in one hand, and dropping the splinter onto the neat pile that he had begun to build to the side of him.
'What kind of shell has this much metal in it anyways?' He thought as he eyed the pile. 'I wonder if this could be worth something to someone?'
Finishing up the stiching, Rick swiftly produced a roll of bandage, and tied up the wound nicely. "That'll do the trick! Still haven't lost it" He proclaimed to no-one in particular with a broad smile on his face, and splashed the rest of the alchohol in the bottle in the downed mans face.
Moving up into a squat, he examined his work. 'Hmm. I was a bit sloppy though. He lost quite a bit of blood. Shoul'dave done something about the veins earlier' He thought, eyeing the splattered, dark red stains on the floor. "You don't mind, do you?" He said to the bartender, leaning back and pointing at the blood.
And that's it. I'm heading to work. Should be back in 8 hours or so. Feel free to slap Rick on the back in the meantime
My bad. I meant to write "eyed the pile", but forgot to change it ;^.^
he looks at the pistol "i could one up you and fine tune your weapon free of charge, the ammo and the batteries you'll have to buy yourself but come morning drop by my shop"
Please let me know if there is room to enter into this RP with you, I can be picked up along the way if you would prefer... I'll have a character sketch on here soon, unfortunately, i'm at a friend's house right now and just saw this post. I have a character idea, but would like to refine it a bit more. please excuse the interruption to the ongoing talk that i see
Teafo
Teafo
the old man looks torwards the doctor an notice he is carrying a bullet shell he asks
"can i have a look at that?"
"can i have a look at that?"
the old man turns back around
"look im old and im currently drunk, i think youd be best take this offer before i sober up and take it back"
"look im old and im currently drunk, i think youd be best take this offer before i sober up and take it back"
"Alright, fair enough. By the way, that looks like some sort of shotgun shell."
he takes the shell and tosses it to Striker "Here, Take a look."
he takes the shell and tosses it to Striker "Here, Take a look."
[spoiler/]and thats all i can muster, sorry its midnight currently over here so sleep is a good thing at this point[/spoiler]
Name: Teafo (no last name)
Occupation: Techy, tinkerer, apprentice fixer of anything mechanical (since this is a steampunk/modern-ish world)
Description: Of shorter and thinner stature, 22 years old, male. Has grown up in the barrens with minimal contact outside his nomadic tribe. Scrounging the deserts for anything useful, they move in semitrucks armored against the elements and the syndicates with anything they can find. Armor plates usually made of thin sheet metal from abandoned villages (sometimes not so abandoned) where the tribe stops on its travels. Teafo has become a master scavenger of anything useless, and prefers to build things from scratch rather than repairing. Too many ideas run through his head at any given time and often end up distracting him from the moment. After an attack on his tribe (he has no knowledge whether it was by syndicate or by the federation), he lost his left arm due to lack of medical attention. The nomadic healer in his tribe opted to remove his arm at the shoulder to stop gangrene. Later he began building a replacement arm, using steam and combustion engines, however it still only works approximately a quarter of the time, and usually lays limply at his side under his knee length grey jacket. Besides the knee length jacket Teafo wears a pair of dark boots, cargo pants (pockets usually full of odd nuts and bolts), and a brown shirt with only one sleeve.
Motivation: Teafo strives to fit in with the people he has always considered strange for wanting to stay in one place all their life. He wants to once again travel the deserts possibly with a small group of his own.
Personality: Often distracted by the ideas in his head, he appears awkward with groups of people and even more awkward with women. He truly strives to fit in with the groups he finds himself in, but often seems to remain an outsider. Teafo's quirky attitude almost always lands him in strange situations, usually as his attempts at humor fall on deaf ears. Constantly tinkers with his arm whenever he finds new parts that could help build it back to proper strength in the hopes of it being fully functional one day.
Allegiances: Himself (Survival), His friends (freedom), His machines (Tinkering)
Fighting Style: Can use a pistol,but cannot use a rifle properly as only one hand is usually functioning. He is never caught without his spanner, and relies on others for protection usually.
Skills and Abilities: Building and rebuilding anything mechanical, especially with a combustion engine. Small pistols, bludgeoning weapons, and a small knowledge of what computers once were. Scavenging, drawing, general mathematics and advanced intuitive engineering abilities.
Deficiencies: People skills (especially women), is not a smooth talker. Drinking, and animal handling.
Equipment: 22 pistol, 2 clips of ammunition, toolbox full of all manners of tools, trusty spanner hangs on belt at all times.
Occupation: Techy, tinkerer, apprentice fixer of anything mechanical (since this is a steampunk/modern-ish world)
Description: Of shorter and thinner stature, 22 years old, male. Has grown up in the barrens with minimal contact outside his nomadic tribe. Scrounging the deserts for anything useful, they move in semitrucks armored against the elements and the syndicates with anything they can find. Armor plates usually made of thin sheet metal from abandoned villages (sometimes not so abandoned) where the tribe stops on its travels. Teafo has become a master scavenger of anything useless, and prefers to build things from scratch rather than repairing. Too many ideas run through his head at any given time and often end up distracting him from the moment. After an attack on his tribe (he has no knowledge whether it was by syndicate or by the federation), he lost his left arm due to lack of medical attention. The nomadic healer in his tribe opted to remove his arm at the shoulder to stop gangrene. Later he began building a replacement arm, using steam and combustion engines, however it still only works approximately a quarter of the time, and usually lays limply at his side under his knee length grey jacket. Besides the knee length jacket Teafo wears a pair of dark boots, cargo pants (pockets usually full of odd nuts and bolts), and a brown shirt with only one sleeve.
Motivation: Teafo strives to fit in with the people he has always considered strange for wanting to stay in one place all their life. He wants to once again travel the deserts possibly with a small group of his own.
Personality: Often distracted by the ideas in his head, he appears awkward with groups of people and even more awkward with women. He truly strives to fit in with the groups he finds himself in, but often seems to remain an outsider. Teafo's quirky attitude almost always lands him in strange situations, usually as his attempts at humor fall on deaf ears. Constantly tinkers with his arm whenever he finds new parts that could help build it back to proper strength in the hopes of it being fully functional one day.
Allegiances: Himself (Survival), His friends (freedom), His machines (Tinkering)
Fighting Style: Can use a pistol,but cannot use a rifle properly as only one hand is usually functioning. He is never caught without his spanner, and relies on others for protection usually.
Skills and Abilities: Building and rebuilding anything mechanical, especially with a combustion engine. Small pistols, bludgeoning weapons, and a small knowledge of what computers once were. Scavenging, drawing, general mathematics and advanced intuitive engineering abilities.
Deficiencies: People skills (especially women), is not a smooth talker. Drinking, and animal handling.
Equipment: 22 pistol, 2 clips of ammunition, toolbox full of all manners of tools, trusty spanner hangs on belt at all times.
Name: Arlonious Tyran, 27
Occupation: Survivalist
History: He descends from a small number people who surviving the calamity years back made a living on the harsh terrain, but have met their inevitable extinction. Now, watching his brother slowly dying from a grievous wound, he looks to civilisation for a cure.
Description: Standing at five foot eleven and a medium build he portrays a man trained for the wild. He has dusty blue eyes with faded rings of brown round his pupils. His clothes cling wildly, worn and tattered giving off a weathered appearance. His dark brown hair falls down low on his face but has been flicked carefully away from his eyes and tied back. He wears a long jagged scar down the inside of his right arm, a trophy from one of his first real hunts. His knife lays carefully concealed and strapped at the top of his left arm.
Motivation: The life of his brother is his priority, but his love of the hunt motivates him. He seems to indicate no interest in the Federation or The Syndicates and those associated with them.
Personality: Hunting has made Arlonious temperable; however his survival instinct will make sharp and deliberate movements in a situation. Being brought up in the barren wasteland he tends to be self reliant and doesn?t try for conversation. He also doesn?t enjoy staying indoors too long, and has claustrophobia which doesn?t seem to apply to caves or natural tunnels? He refuses to use guns and believes a small rock can do the job of what any bullet can (and he has the kill rate to prove it).
Allegiances: His brother, basics, none.
Fighting Style: Arlonious tends to use odd materials to disable or kill an enemy. If the surroundings fail he always has his hunting knife.
Skills and Abilities: Melee Weapons, Exotic Melee Weapons, Exotic Ranged Weapons, Survival, Agility, Hunting, Tracking.
Deficiencies: Charisma, Guns, Black tech, Any Technology, Claustrophobia in man made buildings.
Equipment: Hunting knife, knife strap, pouch, rope, a sharpening stone, flint and steel, animal meat, skin water bag (made from one of the delicious animals Arlonious met in the wild).
Occupation: Survivalist
History: He descends from a small number people who surviving the calamity years back made a living on the harsh terrain, but have met their inevitable extinction. Now, watching his brother slowly dying from a grievous wound, he looks to civilisation for a cure.
Description: Standing at five foot eleven and a medium build he portrays a man trained for the wild. He has dusty blue eyes with faded rings of brown round his pupils. His clothes cling wildly, worn and tattered giving off a weathered appearance. His dark brown hair falls down low on his face but has been flicked carefully away from his eyes and tied back. He wears a long jagged scar down the inside of his right arm, a trophy from one of his first real hunts. His knife lays carefully concealed and strapped at the top of his left arm.
Motivation: The life of his brother is his priority, but his love of the hunt motivates him. He seems to indicate no interest in the Federation or The Syndicates and those associated with them.
Personality: Hunting has made Arlonious temperable; however his survival instinct will make sharp and deliberate movements in a situation. Being brought up in the barren wasteland he tends to be self reliant and doesn?t try for conversation. He also doesn?t enjoy staying indoors too long, and has claustrophobia which doesn?t seem to apply to caves or natural tunnels? He refuses to use guns and believes a small rock can do the job of what any bullet can (and he has the kill rate to prove it).
Allegiances: His brother, basics, none.
Fighting Style: Arlonious tends to use odd materials to disable or kill an enemy. If the surroundings fail he always has his hunting knife.
Skills and Abilities: Melee Weapons, Exotic Melee Weapons, Exotic Ranged Weapons, Survival, Agility, Hunting, Tracking.
Deficiencies: Charisma, Guns, Black tech, Any Technology, Claustrophobia in man made buildings.
Equipment: Hunting knife, knife strap, pouch, rope, a sharpening stone, flint and steel, animal meat, skin water bag (made from one of the delicious animals Arlonious met in the wild).
Um, that guy who posted before me, does he know what Allegiance is? It is where your loyalty lies. Lol!
Anyway, I asked the Games Master, PedroSteckecilo, if I could join as the game is only at the introduction stage but he hasn't replied. I've read the rules and the majority of the posts, made a character and I'll do an intro, nice to meet you all.
I hope you're all OK with me joining.
Legendel
Anyway, I asked the Games Master, PedroSteckecilo, if I could join as the game is only at the introduction stage but he hasn't replied. I've read the rules and the majority of the posts, made a character and I'll do an intro, nice to meet you all.
I hope you're all OK with me joining.
Legendel
TURN:
[Arlonious]
I sit quietly in the tavern under the fading glow of a nearby light watching the travellers enter, the distinct smells of the patrons seemingly matched their less than appetising mugs. I take out a small portion of meat and slowly chew listening to the noise. As the quantity of alcohol increased the more often black tech was mentioned in each conversation, an uninteresting subject.
"I need to find a healer" I spoke softy, as I stood up finishing my meat. I head towards the bartender who may know of such a person.
[Arlonious]
I sit quietly in the tavern under the fading glow of a nearby light watching the travellers enter, the distinct smells of the patrons seemingly matched their less than appetising mugs. I take out a small portion of meat and slowly chew listening to the noise. As the quantity of alcohol increased the more often black tech was mentioned in each conversation, an uninteresting subject.
"I need to find a healer" I spoke softy, as I stood up finishing my meat. I head towards the bartender who may know of such a person.
Well, he was breathing. That's a good first step. Now, where was he? Bartelby noticed that his face was quite sticky for some reason, that he smelled like alcohol, that he was lying on the floor and that he was resting in a small puddle of blood. "There's only a few positions I could concievably be in right now." He thought to himself. Bartelby then noticed that he was still fully clothed and there was a doctor standing over him. "And that eliminates the fun ones."
None the less, the doctor was not holding a knife, gun, sword, bomb, sacraficial axe or any other form of weaponry he could detect. The doctor didn't even appear to be looting his uncouncious corpse for valuables and weaponry. Bartelby decided to label him temporarily as "Friendly" until further evidence came in (it always did).
Bartelby stood. Bartelby fell. Ah, that was right, his leg. Well, it was patched now apparently. And he'd lost enough blood out of it to numb his senses. It was now a sort of dull weight at the end of his ... hip I suppose. It wouldn't respond to his commands, it just hung there. He was none the less acutely aware that it was indeed going to hurt in the morning.
"Well," Bartelby thought to himself, "I can't stand. But I'm still in a bar. Which means there's alcohol. It might be difficult to drink it lying horizontal but ... I'll cross that road when I come to it." Bartelby shouted across the room as casually as one can shout while still shouting and ordered "A scotch my good man! With ice! And, if you will, please bringing it to me at the door of your fine establishment!" He, then turned to the doctor who he assumed had helped him. "Thank you for that. You just saved a very important man; I'm the leader of the anti-federation rebellion. I'm also it's most accomplished soldier. Well, only really..."
The bartender had come with the drink and Bartelby succeeded in only pouring a slight amount on to his face while ingesting it. He could feel the blood flowing back to his leg. He turned again to the doctor "Say, you wouldn't happen to know where we are would you? More specifically, the quickest escape routes?"
None the less, the doctor was not holding a knife, gun, sword, bomb, sacraficial axe or any other form of weaponry he could detect. The doctor didn't even appear to be looting his uncouncious corpse for valuables and weaponry. Bartelby decided to label him temporarily as "Friendly" until further evidence came in (it always did).
Bartelby stood. Bartelby fell. Ah, that was right, his leg. Well, it was patched now apparently. And he'd lost enough blood out of it to numb his senses. It was now a sort of dull weight at the end of his ... hip I suppose. It wouldn't respond to his commands, it just hung there. He was none the less acutely aware that it was indeed going to hurt in the morning.
"Well," Bartelby thought to himself, "I can't stand. But I'm still in a bar. Which means there's alcohol. It might be difficult to drink it lying horizontal but ... I'll cross that road when I come to it." Bartelby shouted across the room as casually as one can shout while still shouting and ordered "A scotch my good man! With ice! And, if you will, please bringing it to me at the door of your fine establishment!" He, then turned to the doctor who he assumed had helped him. "Thank you for that. You just saved a very important man; I'm the leader of the anti-federation rebellion. I'm also it's most accomplished soldier. Well, only really..."
The bartender had come with the drink and Bartelby succeeded in only pouring a slight amount on to his face while ingesting it. He could feel the blood flowing back to his leg. He turned again to the doctor "Say, you wouldn't happen to know where we are would you? More specifically, the quickest escape routes?"
I'm back. Thanks to all who tried to wake me, unfortunately I was asleep in real life as well so ...
As Joe entered town in the early evening walked a bit untill he stumbled upon a tavern the "Rat and Rotgut". he went in ordered a drink and sat down at a table close to the bar and started cleaning his axe, boots and rifle. when he was done he looked for some company playing a card game with 2 other men. sometimes peeking at the poor man with the patched leg.
["spoiler/] just had breakfast now i usualy am at school but i'm not feeling so well. normaly i can post past 4 pm +1 GMT at weekdays and whole the time in weekends.[\spoiler"]
["spoiler/] just had breakfast now i usualy am at school but i'm not feeling so well. normaly i can post past 4 pm +1 GMT at weekdays and whole the time in weekends.[\spoiler"]
Player Name___________Character Name____________________Occupation
PedroSteckecilo_________________________________________Game Master
Alotak_________________Alotak___________________________Whatever.
Bling Cat_______________Nathan Tieksh_____________________P-T Bounty Hunter.
killer8531______________Striker Light_______________________Olden Gun Shop Owner.
conqueror Kenny________Jonathan (John) Lasio______________Thief.
7dollarbill______________Bo "The Cyclops" Jagger_____________Wanderer.
Dcarty745_____________Carty_______ _____________________Drunkard.
John Galt______________J. Galt____________________________Native Slaver.
bermyduck_____________Jago_____________________________Traveller.
LewsTherin____________Roland Graves_____________________Wanderer, Mercenary, Gunfighter.
Khedive Rex____________Ex Sergeant Bartelby Fargrounds______Bumbling Rebel.
MrtnRndrs_____________Robin" Joe" Hood____________________Hunter and Scavenger.
ThePoodonkis__________Chris Thompson_____________________Thief.
Heliros________________Rick (Lisa) Valor____________________Healer/Artist.
TBA
Legendel______________Arlonious Tyran_____________________Survivalist.
Teafo_________________Teafo_____________________________Techy, Tinkerer, Mechanic.
Sorry it's not straight
PedroSteckecilo_________________________________________Game Master
Alotak_________________Alotak___________________________Whatever.
Bling Cat_______________Nathan Tieksh_____________________P-T Bounty Hunter.
killer8531______________Striker Light_______________________Olden Gun Shop Owner.
conqueror Kenny________Jonathan (John) Lasio______________Thief.
7dollarbill______________Bo "The Cyclops" Jagger_____________Wanderer.
Dcarty745_____________Carty_______ _____________________Drunkard.
John Galt______________J. Galt____________________________Native Slaver.
bermyduck_____________Jago_____________________________Traveller.
LewsTherin____________Roland Graves_____________________Wanderer, Mercenary, Gunfighter.
Khedive Rex____________Ex Sergeant Bartelby Fargrounds______Bumbling Rebel.
MrtnRndrs_____________Robin" Joe" Hood____________________Hunter and Scavenger.
ThePoodonkis__________Chris Thompson_____________________Thief.
Heliros________________Rick (Lisa) Valor____________________Healer/Artist.
TBA
Legendel______________Arlonious Tyran_____________________Survivalist.
Teafo_________________Teafo_____________________________Techy, Tinkerer, Mechanic.
Sorry it's not straight
TURN (dramatic entrance):
A ruckus from the direction of the stairs draws the patron's attention. A chorus of yelling, followed by several bangs, and down the stairs comes tumbling a colourful lump.
"Filthy swine! I warned you! If you don't got no money, don't even think about touching me again! You're drunk, and you're broke! Oh, and you smell like the back end of an animal! Take a bath!" screams a scantily clad woman from the top of the stairs.
The lump picks itself up clumsily and dusts itself off. Wobbling as it bends over, it picks up a large sombraro from the floor and puts it on.
"Senorita, you break my heart! I will be back! Soon I will have made my fortune! You will see!" he proclaims in a slurred mexican accent.
He turns to face the bar, seemingly noticing the people around him for the first time. His mustache twitches. His deep-set glazed eyes survey the room, resting for longer on a few more noticable of the room's occupants, his gaze finally coming to rest upon the bar.
"Bartender! More tequila!"
A ruckus from the direction of the stairs draws the patron's attention. A chorus of yelling, followed by several bangs, and down the stairs comes tumbling a colourful lump.
"Filthy swine! I warned you! If you don't got no money, don't even think about touching me again! You're drunk, and you're broke! Oh, and you smell like the back end of an animal! Take a bath!" screams a scantily clad woman from the top of the stairs.
The lump picks itself up clumsily and dusts itself off. Wobbling as it bends over, it picks up a large sombraro from the floor and puts it on.
"Senorita, you break my heart! I will be back! Soon I will have made my fortune! You will see!" he proclaims in a slurred mexican accent.
He turns to face the bar, seemingly noticing the people around him for the first time. His mustache twitches. His deep-set glazed eyes survey the room, resting for longer on a few more noticable of the room's occupants, his gaze finally coming to rest upon the bar.
"Bartender! More tequila!"