Fallout: The Long Haul (RP)
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The commotion that Gene left them with didn't really surprise Wade but hurt him emotionally nonetheless. "There's no helping that self-centered man, is there?" He thought to himself with a scowl as the rest of the group were sorting out what to do with the landmines. Leaving it to a select few ghouls led by one called Mark, Wade observed as they carefully disarmed and collected the mines. "American BLU-43s. Soviets had a similar model, things can rip your feet off if you're not careful." He remarked internally as he made notes of their disarming techniques.
(Explosives check passed)
Thanks to his previous studies of AP mines, Wade was able to follow the procedure the ghouls enacted easily. He mentally locked this knowledge in his head as he and the rest wandered their separate ways in NYSE.
Wandering through the semi-dead streets, many of the residents had their eyes fixated on him. Either from fascination or disgust didn't matter to Wade as he gave a courteous nod to any passerbys. He stopped in front of a vendor, the ghoul wore an array of scavenged steel plating presumably from old combat armor and was tinkering with a coo-coo clock.
"Evening sir, fine day isn't it?"
The ghoul only gave a glance at Wade with a sort of sarcastic expression before attending to the broken clock. "I'm pretty busy fixing this, unless you're buying or selling, fuck off."
Wade smirked. "Now now, sir, no need for language. Tell you what, I'll help you fix that clock and then we can do some business." The ghoul looked up in disbelief, stared off at Wade for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and passing the clock to Wade. He gave a gratuitous smile before examining the clock on a bench. Immediately at first glance, Wade understood what needed to be fixed and, taking some parts and tools from his pack, he got to work.
(repair check passed)
After a few replacements of broken cogs, cleaning and oiling up the clock was working in good order. The ghoul nodded with a hand stroking his chin, impressed with Wade's quick work. "That's some good work you've done there." Immediately, his eyes lit up as if a stroke of inspiration had passed. "Say, I've got something that one of the boys managed to scavenge from the Soviet Embassy. I don't really have what it takes to repair it but maybe you can give it a shot."
Wade was intrigued, the mention of the Soviet Embassy was enough for him to agree. The ghoul smirked, "Excellent, it's over there by the bench, how about you give this a read before you get to it." He handed Wade a copy of 'Fixing Things' an old DIY magazine that was popular before the war, this one was a 2053 edition and included some interesting weapon ideas, possibly distributed for the preparation of war.
Giving it a good read, Wade raised his eyebrows in surprise a good number of times, there were a few ideas that were genuinely interesting. Finally finishing the volume, he closed it and left it on a nearby shelf before getting to work. The item was an intriguing piece, at first glance it looked like a Super Mutant's sledge but there were a lot of hints at modification, particularly around the surface of the heavy block where six large bore barrels surrounded an interesting pressure trigger. Wade observed with intensifying interest as he prepared tools and parts once more from his pack.
(Repair check passed)
It was a long and hard hour but Wade finally fixed it. The repaired super sledge weighed considerably more than a normal one, it had six single shot 12 gauge barrels all linked to an impact trigger which allowed for point blank devastation of an opponent with a successful swing. It was dyed red with blood and rust, giving it a menacing appearance and stood almost as tall as Wade himself.
The quartermaster ghoul came over to check on him and was genuinely amazed at the sight. "Damn son, that there is a beautiful piece." Wade nodded in appreciation and offered to give it back in which the ghoul declined, waving his hand. "Nah kid, you keep it, 'the least I can do since you fixed it." Wade nodded again in appreciation but now he had the problem of how to carry the damn thing with him.
Once again though, the quartermaster interrupted his train of thought. "Listen, we've got a few other things around the place that you could help fix. I don't have the caps to pay you but we'd be really grateful if you did." Wade gave a warm smile and accepted the offer.
"I'd be glad to help, just give me some soviet 7.62 rounds and I'll be good for it."
The ghoul smirked again and nodded as he gave Wade a list of things he needed fixed, Wade raised his brows in amazement. He was going to be here for a while.
(Explosives check passed)
Thanks to his previous studies of AP mines, Wade was able to follow the procedure the ghouls enacted easily. He mentally locked this knowledge in his head as he and the rest wandered their separate ways in NYSE.
Wandering through the semi-dead streets, many of the residents had their eyes fixated on him. Either from fascination or disgust didn't matter to Wade as he gave a courteous nod to any passerbys. He stopped in front of a vendor, the ghoul wore an array of scavenged steel plating presumably from old combat armor and was tinkering with a coo-coo clock.
"Evening sir, fine day isn't it?"
The ghoul only gave a glance at Wade with a sort of sarcastic expression before attending to the broken clock. "I'm pretty busy fixing this, unless you're buying or selling, fuck off."
Wade smirked. "Now now, sir, no need for language. Tell you what, I'll help you fix that clock and then we can do some business." The ghoul looked up in disbelief, stared off at Wade for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and passing the clock to Wade. He gave a gratuitous smile before examining the clock on a bench. Immediately at first glance, Wade understood what needed to be fixed and, taking some parts and tools from his pack, he got to work.
(repair check passed)
After a few replacements of broken cogs, cleaning and oiling up the clock was working in good order. The ghoul nodded with a hand stroking his chin, impressed with Wade's quick work. "That's some good work you've done there." Immediately, his eyes lit up as if a stroke of inspiration had passed. "Say, I've got something that one of the boys managed to scavenge from the Soviet Embassy. I don't really have what it takes to repair it but maybe you can give it a shot."
Wade was intrigued, the mention of the Soviet Embassy was enough for him to agree. The ghoul smirked, "Excellent, it's over there by the bench, how about you give this a read before you get to it." He handed Wade a copy of 'Fixing Things' an old DIY magazine that was popular before the war, this one was a 2053 edition and included some interesting weapon ideas, possibly distributed for the preparation of war.
Giving it a good read, Wade raised his eyebrows in surprise a good number of times, there were a few ideas that were genuinely interesting. Finally finishing the volume, he closed it and left it on a nearby shelf before getting to work. The item was an intriguing piece, at first glance it looked like a Super Mutant's sledge but there were a lot of hints at modification, particularly around the surface of the heavy block where six large bore barrels surrounded an interesting pressure trigger. Wade observed with intensifying interest as he prepared tools and parts once more from his pack.
(Repair check passed)
It was a long and hard hour but Wade finally fixed it. The repaired super sledge weighed considerably more than a normal one, it had six single shot 12 gauge barrels all linked to an impact trigger which allowed for point blank devastation of an opponent with a successful swing. It was dyed red with blood and rust, giving it a menacing appearance and stood almost as tall as Wade himself.
The quartermaster ghoul came over to check on him and was genuinely amazed at the sight. "Damn son, that there is a beautiful piece." Wade nodded in appreciation and offered to give it back in which the ghoul declined, waving his hand. "Nah kid, you keep it, 'the least I can do since you fixed it." Wade nodded again in appreciation but now he had the problem of how to carry the damn thing with him.
Once again though, the quartermaster interrupted his train of thought. "Listen, we've got a few other things around the place that you could help fix. I don't have the caps to pay you but we'd be really grateful if you did." Wade gave a warm smile and accepted the offer.
"I'd be glad to help, just give me some soviet 7.62 rounds and I'll be good for it."
The ghoul smirked again and nodded as he gave Wade a list of things he needed fixed, Wade raised his brows in amazement. He was going to be here for a while.
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((OOC: Sorry about the delay, I'm dealing with a personal issue. Thanks in advance, I'll message you when I can resume.))
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Please_don't_ban_me wrote...
((OOC: Sorry about the delay, I'm dealing with a personal issue. Thanks in advance, I'll message you when I can resume.))((Take your time. Also, I just now realized that NYSE stands for New York Stock Exchange.))
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((OOC: I'm working on a side project right now, so I may be a bit less frequent, but I'm back))
Daniel walked down the corridor and up the stairs back above ground. The light was bright, blinding almost, but after a few seconds of squinting he adjusted to the midday sun. Ghouls walked by busily going about their daily lives, quiet, civil, and peaceful. Daniel smiled to himself, it was just like Raceway, well, it was much bigger, and the pre-war buildings were much more impresssive than the small houses and businesses that were in Raceway. He stretched a little, only to remember exactly how broken his body was. His left shoulder felt out of place and his leg was still throbbing, but he had to deal with things far worse in the past. A ghoul in casual pre-war clothes approached him in a slightly hurried pace. "Mr Townes?" the ghoul inquired. "Yes, that's me, what do you need?" The ghoul shuffled around a bit, he must have been fairly nervous to talk to him, though Daniel wasn't sure why. "I'm Mr Alexander's assistant, William Kingsly, but you can call me Will if you'd like." The ghoul explained as he continued to shift his weight uncomfortably. "Mr Alexander is out of town right now, but I was told to come out to meet you. I'm holding Mr Alexander's seat on the council until he returns and they wanted to ask if you'd help us with something important. Follow me please. Will concluded. Will, Will, he knew the name sounded familiar. That's right! he thought, Susan had mentioned a Will when she talked about her trips to NYSE. He was a quiet guy with a knack for numbers, but he was always nervous about meeting new people. "My wife's told me about you before, she said you were a nice guy. Her name's Susan, she used to come here with Long Haul" Daniel said. Will smiled as best he could, part of his cheek was missing, so he couldn't quite get it right. The two made it to the Stock Exchange building. The council was already in session with ten seats filled. Will walked around to occupy the eleventh. "Daniel Townes, we here of the NYSE community have heard that you have quite a lot of skill with a rifle and you're an experienced farmer, it's acutally all here in Mr Alexander's dossier on you. We are planning on taking Central Park for agricultural use. We need you to help with the operation, and to provide a basic manual for farming under these conditions. We can promise 10% of our crops to Raceway and keep an open trade agreement with the community as well as providing you and the men with you an escort out of the city. Will you help us, help you, help us all?" Daniel looked up at the council and grinned, "you don't need to provide Raceway with your crops, maybe sharing a bit of your stores if there's an especially bad winter, but we get along just fine with what we have. And yes, I'll lend a hand wherever I can. I'm pretty low on ammunition, so any you could spare would be nice."
Daniel walked down the corridor and up the stairs back above ground. The light was bright, blinding almost, but after a few seconds of squinting he adjusted to the midday sun. Ghouls walked by busily going about their daily lives, quiet, civil, and peaceful. Daniel smiled to himself, it was just like Raceway, well, it was much bigger, and the pre-war buildings were much more impresssive than the small houses and businesses that were in Raceway. He stretched a little, only to remember exactly how broken his body was. His left shoulder felt out of place and his leg was still throbbing, but he had to deal with things far worse in the past. A ghoul in casual pre-war clothes approached him in a slightly hurried pace. "Mr Townes?" the ghoul inquired. "Yes, that's me, what do you need?" The ghoul shuffled around a bit, he must have been fairly nervous to talk to him, though Daniel wasn't sure why. "I'm Mr Alexander's assistant, William Kingsly, but you can call me Will if you'd like." The ghoul explained as he continued to shift his weight uncomfortably. "Mr Alexander is out of town right now, but I was told to come out to meet you. I'm holding Mr Alexander's seat on the council until he returns and they wanted to ask if you'd help us with something important. Follow me please. Will concluded. Will, Will, he knew the name sounded familiar. That's right! he thought, Susan had mentioned a Will when she talked about her trips to NYSE. He was a quiet guy with a knack for numbers, but he was always nervous about meeting new people. "My wife's told me about you before, she said you were a nice guy. Her name's Susan, she used to come here with Long Haul" Daniel said. Will smiled as best he could, part of his cheek was missing, so he couldn't quite get it right. The two made it to the Stock Exchange building. The council was already in session with ten seats filled. Will walked around to occupy the eleventh. "Daniel Townes, we here of the NYSE community have heard that you have quite a lot of skill with a rifle and you're an experienced farmer, it's acutally all here in Mr Alexander's dossier on you. We are planning on taking Central Park for agricultural use. We need you to help with the operation, and to provide a basic manual for farming under these conditions. We can promise 10% of our crops to Raceway and keep an open trade agreement with the community as well as providing you and the men with you an escort out of the city. Will you help us, help you, help us all?" Daniel looked up at the council and grinned, "you don't need to provide Raceway with your crops, maybe sharing a bit of your stores if there's an especially bad winter, but we get along just fine with what we have. And yes, I'll lend a hand wherever I can. I'm pretty low on ammunition, so any you could spare would be nice."
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What Vic had initially assumed to be an underground settlement blossomed into a town topside. Fresh air flew past Vic on a light breeze as the zombie boxer opened the old service door that was more exposed metal than peeling blue paint.
"This is, uh, not bad," Vic said at last.
"How does it feel to realize that our settlement is bigger, better built, reinforced and protected than most human settlements? Vic expected the words to spill out of the zombie any moment, but they never came.
"True to my word," the zombie said, "I have led you to freedom from the dank tunnels of the sewers. Now, you've got some thinking to do, and I've got better things to do besides handing your ass to you."
The ghoul turned to leave back through the door.
"Nice meeting you too, zo--"
"Name's Vinny."
"Zombie."
"Whatever, Fingers. I'll catch you later if you stick around." The door closed with a solid metallic clack behind the ghoul. He wasn't too bad either. For a zombie. There was almost, almost, something likable about him. Vic wandered out into the street and found a line of gutted metal crate things on the sidewalk. He took a seat on one and watched the resident ghouls pass by, going about their business. Some gave him passing looks but most were perfectly content to ignore him. Vic saw one human and felt an immediate sense of kinship with him so strong he wanted to go up and say hi.
Oh, what a turn his life had taken. If he could jump back in time to tell his past-self that he would end up deep in ghoul territory, his past-self would more than likely shoot his future-self dead, take his caps and enjoy a good meal.
Vic now had a pistol and a switchblade when he once had a shotgun and a razor and a . . . Vic padded himself down. He'd nearly forgotten. He pulled out a piece of mirror that fit snugly in the palm of his hand. He'd taken it the day he signed up for Long Haul Caravan.
He looked at his reflection, but he didn't need it to know that he had a gigantic bruise on his cheek. The edge of the mirror cut into his hand, and he cursed. The thing was sharp. Sharp enough to be useful. He put it away and sucked at the blood dripping down his hand.
"This is, uh, not bad," Vic said at last.
"How does it feel to realize that our settlement is bigger, better built, reinforced and protected than most human settlements? Vic expected the words to spill out of the zombie any moment, but they never came.
"True to my word," the zombie said, "I have led you to freedom from the dank tunnels of the sewers. Now, you've got some thinking to do, and I've got better things to do besides handing your ass to you."
The ghoul turned to leave back through the door.
"Nice meeting you too, zo--"
"Name's Vinny."
"Zombie."
"Whatever, Fingers. I'll catch you later if you stick around." The door closed with a solid metallic clack behind the ghoul. He wasn't too bad either. For a zombie. There was almost, almost, something likable about him. Vic wandered out into the street and found a line of gutted metal crate things on the sidewalk. He took a seat on one and watched the resident ghouls pass by, going about their business. Some gave him passing looks but most were perfectly content to ignore him. Vic saw one human and felt an immediate sense of kinship with him so strong he wanted to go up and say hi.
Oh, what a turn his life had taken. If he could jump back in time to tell his past-self that he would end up deep in ghoul territory, his past-self would more than likely shoot his future-self dead, take his caps and enjoy a good meal.
Vic now had a pistol and a switchblade when he once had a shotgun and a razor and a . . . Vic padded himself down. He'd nearly forgotten. He pulled out a piece of mirror that fit snugly in the palm of his hand. He'd taken it the day he signed up for Long Haul Caravan.
He looked at his reflection, but he didn't need it to know that he had a gigantic bruise on his cheek. The edge of the mirror cut into his hand, and he cursed. The thing was sharp. Sharp enough to be useful. He put it away and sucked at the blood dripping down his hand.
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"This one's all good." Wade calls out to the quartermaster as he finishes assembling yet another rifle and stacking it in a box along with a dozen identical ones. "I gotta hand it to you guys." Wade remarks, smiling at the sight of what could have been the largest arsenal he's ever seen, "You've got it made for yourselves in here."
"Thanks." The ghoul returns the smile as he was also cleaning a rifle. "You like what we've got going here?"
"Yeah. It's pretty unbelievable. How'd you manage to procure such a fine collection of Soviet AND American weaponry here?" He queried, genuinely interested and not bothered in hiding the fact. The ghoul chuckled as he set down his rifle.
"After we established this place and managed to get on our own feet, we raided what used to be the State Armory just uptown. The place is empty now save for maybe a spare round or two. On top of that, there's the Soviet Embassy, that place was an armory in itself if anything."
The ghoul continued and Wade payed close attention, nodding his head at every word. The ramblings could be heard from outside the store as the two weapon junkies conversed.
((OOC: Wade is pretty much doing repairs with the Quartermaster until the team finally moves on or something develops.))
"Thanks." The ghoul returns the smile as he was also cleaning a rifle. "You like what we've got going here?"
"Yeah. It's pretty unbelievable. How'd you manage to procure such a fine collection of Soviet AND American weaponry here?" He queried, genuinely interested and not bothered in hiding the fact. The ghoul chuckled as he set down his rifle.
"After we established this place and managed to get on our own feet, we raided what used to be the State Armory just uptown. The place is empty now save for maybe a spare round or two. On top of that, there's the Soviet Embassy, that place was an armory in itself if anything."
The ghoul continued and Wade payed close attention, nodding his head at every word. The ramblings could be heard from outside the store as the two weapon junkies conversed.
((OOC: Wade is pretty much doing repairs with the Quartermaster until the team finally moves on or something develops.))
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I apologize, but strangely the solution to my intense hatred of my Dad raising someone who isn't me isn't at the bottom of the whiskey bottle, so I don't think I can post anything with any real substance to it since my character is a model of my father of he was a fucking parent, or a considerate human being, or gave a shit about anyone before his piece of shit wife... I'm sorry I've forgotten where I was going and now I'm just typing one handed smoking a cigarette and being angry.
I may be more than a little drunk, but I won't forget to be courteous to you lot who unfortunately have gotten caught up in this nonsense while trying to just enjoy a fun adventure through radioactive wastelands.
Well my metabolism is fantastic, and I'm out of whiskey for today, so whose up for more adventure? (incidentally that means that I'm mostly sober again and we can go on)
Nevermind I found a small green bag I'd forgotten about. I'm going to watch the endings to RahXephon and Evangelion again.
I may be more than a little drunk, but I won't forget to be courteous to you lot who unfortunately have gotten caught up in this nonsense while trying to just enjoy a fun adventure through radioactive wastelands.
Well my metabolism is fantastic, and I'm out of whiskey for today, so whose up for more adventure? (incidentally that means that I'm mostly sober again and we can go on)
Nevermind I found a small green bag I'd forgotten about. I'm going to watch the endings to RahXephon and Evangelion again.
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((OOC: Surprisingly not a lot of solutions are found at the bottom of a whiskey bottle but at the bottom of a vodka bottle. Anyway good luck with your parental problems, real life comes before internets))