Post Apocalyptic Western: Episode 2
- Thread starter PedroSteckecilo
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My week of mayhem is over so I'll be able to put in the time required whenever episode 2 starts up. Heres looking forward to it. Cheers.
I'm woikin on it! Sorry, I've been bitchsmacked by so much stuff over the last little while and I haven't had much time at the computer. On top of that I've been really sick lately, so I can barely think when I get into work. But the idea is now set, I just need to get the opening written.
I know i'm really looking forward to seeing the opening of ep 2, this is my first time with a true online RP like this, and so far i'm loving it! Pedro, just keep doing what you're doing, you've got some real talent with story telling. Hopefully we'll see the next big break soon, i know i'm excited 
ps I just got back into town late last night, i may be a little busy from time to time, but i'll be able to post just about everyday still
ps I just got back into town late last night, i may be a little busy from time to time, but i'll be able to post just about everyday still
EPISODE 2: Introduction
Salvations End is a large, prosperous trading town on the edge of the ruined city which also houses Purgatories Gate. It is famous for being constructed atop the skeleton of an ancient highway, which now serves as a major caravan route in the southern wastes. Makeshift lifts and pulleys ferry travelers and traders from the sandy desert up to the massive, ancient causeway and this practice is the source of much of the towns wealth. Because of this it is possibly one of the most modern towns in the wastes, boasting a radio tower, a major bank, a rail station, a hospital, several fancy hotels, a large casino and more. One of the biggest draws to this small town is the annual Salvation Shootout, a massive combat tournament which often attracts some of the biggest, baddest combat talent in the wastes, as well as a great deal of the scum that like to profit off of such people. Hence during the 2 Weeks of the tournament the trading town becomes a cesspit of vice and debauchery and plays host to the elite of the wasteland crime world. Even if you aren?t competing, it?s a good place to make connections or even acquire a job of the less savory variety.
This year things are a little more interesting than usual, in addition to the prize of $10,000 (a lot of money in the wastes) a special, one time only prize has been offered to the tournament champion, a mysterious ancient artifact that supposedly holds a clue to unimaginable wealth and power, and also would be worth an absolute fortune to the right buyer. This information alone has attracted more than the usual amount of fortune seekers and mercenaries, leaving the trading town simmering with potential violence.
Rumor has it that The Captain, a mysterious wasteland crimelord with a keen interest in ancient artifacts, has his eye firmly set on the champions prize and is willing to do almost anything to get it. Other sources state that a secret force of Federal Marshalls has also infiltrated the tournament, hunting for information regarding another lost artifact, supposedly desired by The Captain. Lastly, many have heard of another such artifact that was last spotted in Purgatories Gate, before it vanished amongst the chaos of a massive and bloody battle between The Captain?s enforcers and a group of drifters in the local tavern.
Salvations End is a large, prosperous trading town on the edge of the ruined city which also houses Purgatories Gate. It is famous for being constructed atop the skeleton of an ancient highway, which now serves as a major caravan route in the southern wastes. Makeshift lifts and pulleys ferry travelers and traders from the sandy desert up to the massive, ancient causeway and this practice is the source of much of the towns wealth. Because of this it is possibly one of the most modern towns in the wastes, boasting a radio tower, a major bank, a rail station, a hospital, several fancy hotels, a large casino and more. One of the biggest draws to this small town is the annual Salvation Shootout, a massive combat tournament which often attracts some of the biggest, baddest combat talent in the wastes, as well as a great deal of the scum that like to profit off of such people. Hence during the 2 Weeks of the tournament the trading town becomes a cesspit of vice and debauchery and plays host to the elite of the wasteland crime world. Even if you aren?t competing, it?s a good place to make connections or even acquire a job of the less savory variety.
This year things are a little more interesting than usual, in addition to the prize of $10,000 (a lot of money in the wastes) a special, one time only prize has been offered to the tournament champion, a mysterious ancient artifact that supposedly holds a clue to unimaginable wealth and power, and also would be worth an absolute fortune to the right buyer. This information alone has attracted more than the usual amount of fortune seekers and mercenaries, leaving the trading town simmering with potential violence.
Rumor has it that The Captain, a mysterious wasteland crimelord with a keen interest in ancient artifacts, has his eye firmly set on the champions prize and is willing to do almost anything to get it. Other sources state that a secret force of Federal Marshalls has also infiltrated the tournament, hunting for information regarding another lost artifact, supposedly desired by The Captain. Lastly, many have heard of another such artifact that was last spotted in Purgatories Gate, before it vanished amongst the chaos of a massive and bloody battle between The Captain?s enforcers and a group of drifters in the local tavern.
There it is, a little rushed but I wanted to get it out for you folks. Everyone describe how they enter Salvations End, what drew them there and whether or not they've decided to enter the Salvation Shootout. Any new players can show up as contestants in the Torunament, just read the rules, don't god mode and post your Character Sheet along with your introduction
[Arlonious]
"So Rick", I asked "Where are you and Sgt headed, Riareous is mending and I can't thank you enough for helping me in this way. If you don't mind, we would like to tag along and see that no harm follows. I don't think what started in the tavern is going to be the end of it"
I caught Riareous' eye and he spoke a silent agreement. Riareous was looking so much better since his operation and had shed the skeletal look he once wore, and as he sat up I lifted down his weapons and handed them back into his already strengthening hands.
"So Rick", I asked "Where are you and Sgt headed, Riareous is mending and I can't thank you enough for helping me in this way. If you don't mind, we would like to tag along and see that no harm follows. I don't think what started in the tavern is going to be the end of it"
I caught Riareous' eye and he spoke a silent agreement. Riareous was looking so much better since his operation and had shed the skeletal look he once wore, and as he sat up I lifted down his weapons and handed them back into his already strengthening hands.
The jeep rumbled along the road, Salvations End could be seen in the distance hovering on above the ground or so it apeared.
CRASH! Clang, BANG. the jeep screached to a stop, and as it came to a halt the engine gave out.
"i think we lost somthing" Alotak said leaning out of the window, "yup we've lost some sheet metal?? did we even have sheet metal?".
Clambering out of the window Alotak lent against the side of the jeep.
"Come on guys i not checking it out by myself, any way were on foot from here on in it wont take us long only about 3 hours, it will be night fall so we will have to watch out for the larger predators, i'd take the sewers but you guys probably would not manage that".
CRASH! Clang, BANG. the jeep screached to a stop, and as it came to a halt the engine gave out.
"i think we lost somthing" Alotak said leaning out of the window, "yup we've lost some sheet metal?? did we even have sheet metal?".
Clambering out of the window Alotak lent against the side of the jeep.
"Come on guys i not checking it out by myself, any way were on foot from here on in it wont take us long only about 3 hours, it will be night fall so we will have to watch out for the larger predators, i'd take the sewers but you guys probably would not manage that".
*John is thrown out of a tinted car, blood running down his face he raises his head and sees a neon sign "Welcome to Salvations End". He thought to himself how very approprate. John begins to steadily rise and stumble into the town.*
"So, the mob want that prize. So that means it must be worth something. Something worth staying on the run for the rest of my life, I have got used to it anyway."
*John then began to think. If is in a tournament for fighting I stand no chance. I will just wait for the right opportunity. John then walks into the first inn that he sees.*
"Mind if I clean myself up? I have had a bit of a... Problem."
"So, the mob want that prize. So that means it must be worth something. Something worth staying on the run for the rest of my life, I have got used to it anyway."
*John then began to think. If is in a tournament for fighting I stand no chance. I will just wait for the right opportunity. John then walks into the first inn that he sees.*
"Mind if I clean myself up? I have had a bit of a... Problem."
ENTRANCE:
Over the dusty barrens appeared the traveller and his llama. It was dusk and night was approaching quickly. Jago hurried Mercedes along, trying to reach the distant shape of Salvation's End before the darkness closed in. He was perfectly capable of spending the night in the desert but an actual bed was much more appealing. Plus, he was out of tequila.
He arrived at the town outskirts just as the last flickers of sunlight left the sky. Avoiding the town's main roads and squares he began to seek out a place to stay the night.He had decided to begin his search for the military man and the doctor here. He knew that any person with any sense wouldn't remain at Purgatory's Gate with all the ruckus that the burning tavern had caused. Plus, and any adventurous man worth his salt would be here for the tournament. The tournament itself did not interest Jago, but it's prize did. He patted his close kept pouch, feeling the slight shape of his own mysterious artifact. Failing to locate one of his targets he thought that the prize might also come in handy.
Finding a small shady inn, Jago left Mercedes and headed for the bar. Soon through the conversation of a few drunkards he found news indeed travelled faster than he did. Through the ridiculous rumours there was some useful information. Apparantly the Captain had been none too pleased about the loss of the object and his agents were scowering the town, as well as the Feds.
*That to add to the tall headbanded man* worried Jago. He new he'd better keep a extra low profile.
*The crowds of the tournament will help me there* he mused, *It will start soon, and with it I will start my search* With a last shot of tequila he headed upstairs to bed.
Over the dusty barrens appeared the traveller and his llama. It was dusk and night was approaching quickly. Jago hurried Mercedes along, trying to reach the distant shape of Salvation's End before the darkness closed in. He was perfectly capable of spending the night in the desert but an actual bed was much more appealing. Plus, he was out of tequila.
He arrived at the town outskirts just as the last flickers of sunlight left the sky. Avoiding the town's main roads and squares he began to seek out a place to stay the night.He had decided to begin his search for the military man and the doctor here. He knew that any person with any sense wouldn't remain at Purgatory's Gate with all the ruckus that the burning tavern had caused. Plus, and any adventurous man worth his salt would be here for the tournament. The tournament itself did not interest Jago, but it's prize did. He patted his close kept pouch, feeling the slight shape of his own mysterious artifact. Failing to locate one of his targets he thought that the prize might also come in handy.
Finding a small shady inn, Jago left Mercedes and headed for the bar. Soon through the conversation of a few drunkards he found news indeed travelled faster than he did. Through the ridiculous rumours there was some useful information. Apparantly the Captain had been none too pleased about the loss of the object and his agents were scowering the town, as well as the Feds.
*That to add to the tall headbanded man* worried Jago. He new he'd better keep a extra low profile.
*The crowds of the tournament will help me there* he mused, *It will start soon, and with it I will start my search* With a last shot of tequila he headed upstairs to bed.
Entrance:
Galt awoke in the back of a crude wagon parked beside a campfire. The gash on his arm had scabbed over and he was feeling a bit better. He noticed a small packet of antibiotics laying beside him and reasoned whomever had taken him felt the need to keep him alive. Rearden was nowhere to be found.
He tried to move, but his attempt to get up was halted by the numerous shackles on his arms. Ah christ, looks like I've fallen on the wrong side of the slaver business. He looked about the wagon and tried to find some weakness in the chains. The loops ran from his wrists to a bracket on the floor. Damn, not enough room to grab a pick out of my jacket. Gonna have to just try and force it out.
Galt clenched his jaw and yanked on the chain with both arms. He heaved and tried to pry the crude metal bracket from the wooden floor. Bits of his scab cracked and flaked off, new blood dripping out to fill the place. With a final pull, Galt snapped the bracket off the floorboards. He was still wore the chain, but he now had considerably more room to move.
Using this newfound freedom, Galt slipped out of the back of the wagon and onto the desert floor. The two slavers slept by the fire peacefully, undisturbed by Galt's labor. Past the edges of the fire's dim light, Galt saw two small eyes looking back at him. As he stepped towards the fire, he saw Rearden's distinctive markings form around the shining eyes. The dog looked a bit starved but nonetheless healthy.
While the fire crackled warmly, Galt crept over to the closest slaver. The filthy man's garments appeared worn and rank. The faint clinking of chains was heard as Galt slipped the metal loops around the sleeping man's neck. As he fastened his hold and tugged, the man kicked his legs up into the air and threw off his blanket. Galt pulled harder, trying to drag the man back towards the wagon. A sharp scream pierced the night and awoke his companion. The other man fumbled for his pistol and tried to bring it to bear but was too slow. Galt lifted the choking man in front of him and began to plod forward.
Drowsiness held the would-be shooter in her grasp as he tried to lift his pistol. Galt swung his captive before him, spilling him into the fire. A quick lunge brought the iron shackles into the shooter's jaw and the gun dropped from his hand. Rearden sat calmly by the edge of the fire and watched his owner go to work on the pair. The choked man appeared dead already, from either lack of air or the fire, but his comrade still lay breathing on the ground.
Galt kicked the man over and rooted through his pockets. A small key dropped out of a moth-bitten hole in the shirt. Galt's fingers brought it into the lock on his shackles and twisted it. The iron rings slid off and fell to the ground.
Three days later, a man wearing a denim jacket rode calmly into Salvation's End. With him he bore a wagon filled with camp supplies and carrying a whimpering figure in the back. The wagon along with its contents was auctioned off that afternoon for the princely sum of $658. It wasn't the most money Galt had ever had in his life, but it was a good enough start for now. He stepped into an inn and slid a few bills to the owner. The owner took one look at the money on the table and tossed Galt a key to one of the rooms and a thin bottle of liquor. The slaver grabbed both and slid into a seat near the door.
Galt awoke in the back of a crude wagon parked beside a campfire. The gash on his arm had scabbed over and he was feeling a bit better. He noticed a small packet of antibiotics laying beside him and reasoned whomever had taken him felt the need to keep him alive. Rearden was nowhere to be found.
He tried to move, but his attempt to get up was halted by the numerous shackles on his arms. Ah christ, looks like I've fallen on the wrong side of the slaver business. He looked about the wagon and tried to find some weakness in the chains. The loops ran from his wrists to a bracket on the floor. Damn, not enough room to grab a pick out of my jacket. Gonna have to just try and force it out.
Galt clenched his jaw and yanked on the chain with both arms. He heaved and tried to pry the crude metal bracket from the wooden floor. Bits of his scab cracked and flaked off, new blood dripping out to fill the place. With a final pull, Galt snapped the bracket off the floorboards. He was still wore the chain, but he now had considerably more room to move.
Using this newfound freedom, Galt slipped out of the back of the wagon and onto the desert floor. The two slavers slept by the fire peacefully, undisturbed by Galt's labor. Past the edges of the fire's dim light, Galt saw two small eyes looking back at him. As he stepped towards the fire, he saw Rearden's distinctive markings form around the shining eyes. The dog looked a bit starved but nonetheless healthy.
While the fire crackled warmly, Galt crept over to the closest slaver. The filthy man's garments appeared worn and rank. The faint clinking of chains was heard as Galt slipped the metal loops around the sleeping man's neck. As he fastened his hold and tugged, the man kicked his legs up into the air and threw off his blanket. Galt pulled harder, trying to drag the man back towards the wagon. A sharp scream pierced the night and awoke his companion. The other man fumbled for his pistol and tried to bring it to bear but was too slow. Galt lifted the choking man in front of him and began to plod forward.
Drowsiness held the would-be shooter in her grasp as he tried to lift his pistol. Galt swung his captive before him, spilling him into the fire. A quick lunge brought the iron shackles into the shooter's jaw and the gun dropped from his hand. Rearden sat calmly by the edge of the fire and watched his owner go to work on the pair. The choked man appeared dead already, from either lack of air or the fire, but his comrade still lay breathing on the ground.
Galt kicked the man over and rooted through his pockets. A small key dropped out of a moth-bitten hole in the shirt. Galt's fingers brought it into the lock on his shackles and twisted it. The iron rings slid off and fell to the ground.
Three days later, a man wearing a denim jacket rode calmly into Salvation's End. With him he bore a wagon filled with camp supplies and carrying a whimpering figure in the back. The wagon along with its contents was auctioned off that afternoon for the princely sum of $658. It wasn't the most money Galt had ever had in his life, but it was a good enough start for now. He stepped into an inn and slid a few bills to the owner. The owner took one look at the money on the table and tossed Galt a key to one of the rooms and a thin bottle of liquor. The slaver grabbed both and slid into a seat near the door.
Turn
Teafo awoke in quite possibly the roughest way he's ever been awoken. Feeling the sheetmetal suddenly lifting off, Teafo tried to grab it back down, only to realize that not only his good arm was working, but his mechanical arm even managed to become useful and anchor into the metal. He only had a moment to hope that the mechanical grip didnt bend the precious sheetmetal before he also realized that once again the sheetmetal had caught the wind, and was now pulling him along with it out of the back of the jeep. Falling from a speeding jeep and skidding across the open desert is never a pleasant expeience, and one he hoped at some point in his life he wouldn't have had to relive, but when you're also tumbling with a large sheet of metal, it only gets worse.
After stumbling to a shaky standing position, with his mechanical arm still firmly gripping the metal incumbrance he seriously reconsidered actually how useful the thing would be. And if it was going to be, it should be soon. He'd worry about that later though, for now, he was standing in the middle of the desert, left arm firmly anchored to a large and rather unsightly bit of reflective material that was no doubt about to be noticed by the group of men that are driving the jeep.
Having traveled the desert for all his life, the shifting dunes became like signposts and Teafo instantly could tell where he was and decided he'd better start walking towards the nearest city for some provisions. His grumbling stomach attesting to the lack of food and after the nap in the jeep, breakfast was sounding mighty tasty.
As visions of bacon and eggs danced through his head, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the purring combustion engine suddenly coming to a jarring and inglorious halt.
Changing route and heading to the now statue-esque jeep, Teafo pulled his trusty wrench off his belt and rummaged into the back of the jeep to pull out the rest of his toolkit.
"Looks like you could use a hand with your engine. Name's Teafo, fixer of all that runs," Teafo smiled at his unknowing traveling companions and hoped he looked less than half as scared of the gun wielding fellows and the little webbed-fingered one, as he felt. "Maybe one of you could give me a hand with this bit'o'metal that I can't seem to let go of, and I'll take a look at the combustiony things under this here hood."
Teafo awoke in quite possibly the roughest way he's ever been awoken. Feeling the sheetmetal suddenly lifting off, Teafo tried to grab it back down, only to realize that not only his good arm was working, but his mechanical arm even managed to become useful and anchor into the metal. He only had a moment to hope that the mechanical grip didnt bend the precious sheetmetal before he also realized that once again the sheetmetal had caught the wind, and was now pulling him along with it out of the back of the jeep. Falling from a speeding jeep and skidding across the open desert is never a pleasant expeience, and one he hoped at some point in his life he wouldn't have had to relive, but when you're also tumbling with a large sheet of metal, it only gets worse.
After stumbling to a shaky standing position, with his mechanical arm still firmly gripping the metal incumbrance he seriously reconsidered actually how useful the thing would be. And if it was going to be, it should be soon. He'd worry about that later though, for now, he was standing in the middle of the desert, left arm firmly anchored to a large and rather unsightly bit of reflective material that was no doubt about to be noticed by the group of men that are driving the jeep.
Having traveled the desert for all his life, the shifting dunes became like signposts and Teafo instantly could tell where he was and decided he'd better start walking towards the nearest city for some provisions. His grumbling stomach attesting to the lack of food and after the nap in the jeep, breakfast was sounding mighty tasty.
As visions of bacon and eggs danced through his head, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the purring combustion engine suddenly coming to a jarring and inglorious halt.
Changing route and heading to the now statue-esque jeep, Teafo pulled his trusty wrench off his belt and rummaged into the back of the jeep to pull out the rest of his toolkit.
"Looks like you could use a hand with your engine. Name's Teafo, fixer of all that runs," Teafo smiled at his unknowing traveling companions and hoped he looked less than half as scared of the gun wielding fellows and the little webbed-fingered one, as he felt. "Maybe one of you could give me a hand with this bit'o'metal that I can't seem to let go of, and I'll take a look at the combustiony things under this here hood."
Clambering out of the jeep, Nathan sighed to himself, then saw the strange man with webbed hands. he pulled out his revolver and pointed it at him. "Youll take a look under the hood? Why should we trust you, youve been stowing away in the back of the jeep. You wouldnt do that unless you had something to hide!" Nathan stared the man down...
I do intend to enter the tournament, I just need to wrap up this thing with Teafo before i can get to the town. Oh! Almost forgot! My Character sheet:
Name: Nathan Tieksh
Age: 27
Description: A hero in the village he comes from, Nathan comes from a village wracked by poverty. he sends money from his income there every month, just to keep it afloat. He works finding Black Tech and then selling it to the highest bidder. While everyone in his village sees him as christ returned, outside he is very morally grey. While his finds have heralded some huge medical advances, he has sold many a powerful weapon to The Syndacites, and indirectly caused many deaths. He has a dog called Luke who is a golden labrador, and he fights with a black tech weapon he never sold, namely a small pistol type weapon which fires a small 6000 degrees fahrenheit beam, capable of killing. He can also attach a sniper scope to the pistol. That however uses lots of power, and must be charged up a lot. so he also uses a small UZI he bought on the black market, and a traditional western six shooter.
Occupation: He works finding black tech, but given how rare that is, hes also a part time bounty hunter.
Motivation: He is motivated to save his village from poverty, and get rich.
Personality: He's arrogant, and slightly uncaring. hes also a great actor, which may not help him in battle, but it means he can lie and persuade people very easily.
Allegiances: Wealth, Family, His Dog
Fighting Style: He Fights with guns normally, but if hes extremely outnumbered, or the battle is turning against him, hell pull out his heat pistol. he has also trained his dog to help him fight.
Skills and Abilities: Charisma, Survival (i mean like outback survival, like how to make a fire from two dry sticks), Animal training, cooking, Gunslinging, Acrobatics, Stamina( like running stamina)
Deficiencies: Engineering. he hunts Black tech, but he doesnt have a clue how it works or what it does most of the time. Academics.
Equipment: A six shooter, An UZI, a Heat pistol, A cowboy hat, A bacpack with camping gear.
Personality Quirk: When around people he acts dark and mysterious, but when with animals he becomes very playful and almost childish. this includes Luke, his dog, so in fights hes often giggling like a schoolgirl.
Name: Nathan Tieksh
Age: 27
Description: A hero in the village he comes from, Nathan comes from a village wracked by poverty. he sends money from his income there every month, just to keep it afloat. He works finding Black Tech and then selling it to the highest bidder. While everyone in his village sees him as christ returned, outside he is very morally grey. While his finds have heralded some huge medical advances, he has sold many a powerful weapon to The Syndacites, and indirectly caused many deaths. He has a dog called Luke who is a golden labrador, and he fights with a black tech weapon he never sold, namely a small pistol type weapon which fires a small 6000 degrees fahrenheit beam, capable of killing. He can also attach a sniper scope to the pistol. That however uses lots of power, and must be charged up a lot. so he also uses a small UZI he bought on the black market, and a traditional western six shooter.
Occupation: He works finding black tech, but given how rare that is, hes also a part time bounty hunter.
Motivation: He is motivated to save his village from poverty, and get rich.
Personality: He's arrogant, and slightly uncaring. hes also a great actor, which may not help him in battle, but it means he can lie and persuade people very easily.
Allegiances: Wealth, Family, His Dog
Fighting Style: He Fights with guns normally, but if hes extremely outnumbered, or the battle is turning against him, hell pull out his heat pistol. he has also trained his dog to help him fight.
Skills and Abilities: Charisma, Survival (i mean like outback survival, like how to make a fire from two dry sticks), Animal training, cooking, Gunslinging, Acrobatics, Stamina( like running stamina)
Deficiencies: Engineering. he hunts Black tech, but he doesnt have a clue how it works or what it does most of the time. Academics.
Equipment: A six shooter, An UZI, a Heat pistol, A cowboy hat, A bacpack with camping gear.
Personality Quirk: When around people he acts dark and mysterious, but when with animals he becomes very playful and almost childish. this includes Luke, his dog, so in fights hes often giggling like a schoolgirl.