Futuristic Hunt for the Codex - A future western RP - Always Open!

[Clairvoyance]

Claire

Firearm Accuracy: 5/10


Melee Weapons: 9/10


Hand to Hand: 3/10


Defense/Agility/Dodging: 7/10


Mechanical/Explosives Aptitude: 1/10

Turning a corner, Claire entered a common room of sorts to be greeted by her fellow adventurer, Kaine. She grinned slightly at the quip, crossing her arms and sauntering over to the table. "You know, restraint's never been one of my strong suits now that you mention it."


She glanced up at the largely foreign screen, seeing snippets of an entirely foreign movie. "Playing cards all by your lonesome?" She hadn't played much, but she'd been in a game once or twice with her mom.


Taking in his expression, Kaine seemed agitated about something. Annoyed, at least. Claire wasn't pushy though, so she didn't bring it up. Perhaps it was the loud men and women across the room. The rabble would agitate her too, if she'd been in here for long.





@Fenris

 

[Doctor Jax]

I Z Z Y

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Firearm Accuracy: 2/10


Melee Weapons: 9/10


Hand to Hand: 4/10


Defense/Agility/Dodge: 7/10


Mechanical/Explosives: 4/10

"Likewise, Arlo," she said brightly, looking back to the wastes as he stared out at it. A gust of wind blew her hair around her face, and she managed to tame it back into place after the gust of dirt and dust had subsided. Given the speed of the crawler, her hair was already buoyed by the wind, but she didn't mind much -- after all, there was nothing quite like feeling the wind in one's hair, and she rarely got the chance to ride in something like a landcrawler.


She grinned again at the mention of her gasmask being a fashion statement, laughing to herself a little. How many people had wondered that, she thought. After all, there were odder things. Once she saw a man with over three hundred body piercings, all of them made of some for of safety pin or sewing needle. When she'd asked him, he had said, "Keeps the girls off me." She leaned against the railing, tapping her foot along to some unheard rhythm, and she said, "Whelp, I have real screwed up lungs. If I breathe in dirt or other nasty stuff, even if it's just house dust, I end up getting seriously sick. It's impossible to cure, so the mask keeps me from taking in the worst of the outside air. I honestly don't know what it's like not to wear the mask, so I don't really know what I'm missing."


She glanced over at him with bright eyes and said, "You yourself are quite the fashionable wanderer, I have to say. Nice threads. You go shopping much? Or are you just a lucky scavenger who found yourself a hobby store?" She couldn't really place the make or year of the clothes, and that was saying something. She was always interested in the things people did out in the wastes, especially in their free time. People always underestimated the kinds of things others did to entertain themselves or make themselves happy.


@UnknownSection

 

[Uncultured]

@Clairvoyance @Fenris

Finch




Finch was never the type to put business before pleasure, and today was no exception. His guns remained uncleaned and still unloaded, and his vest still harbored the crater it had received from the bounty hunter, but it could be left until tomorrow, Redwood was a safe place after all, no need to worry in advance for such a domestic town. Instead of focusing on readying himself for any potential conflict, his feet lay on the table before the couch he had chosen and his eyes were fixated upon the screen that had flickered back to life and the old western movie it played on it's massive flat screen. He was no expert on pre-war United States History, but it seemed far fetched that such a world existed, where the mere color of skin dictated one's status in life... after all, with insane and twisted mutations running rampant, who really had time to worry about the amount of pigment in one's skin?




"A different time, must have been a shit place to live...." mused the smuggler as he viewed the carnage displayed on the screen.

"If only I had a gunhand like this guy, Jesus.... the money I would be making just on displays...." he thought to himself as the dark skinned bounty hunter wasted several men within the span of five seconds.

In the corner of the smuggler's eye, he could make out one of the men who had been in the bar attempt to converse with the airy, apathetic, and potentially unstable masked man who seemed to specialize in bladed weaponry. To no surprise the conversational attempts made by the man were quickly blown off by the blade expert, and Finch felt a pang of annoyance towards the masked one, "fucker really thinks he's better than the rest of us don't he" thought Finch as he moved from the couch, making his way to the open bar. Finch quickly peaked over the side of the table for a moment before reaching behind the bar, retrieving an old, and quite expensive looking bottle of whiskey from the counter and a few shot glasses.

From his place at the bar, Finch could make out a pair sitting at one of the tables with a deck of cards. Never one to turn down the potential for a game of low stakes poker or blackjack, the smuggler ambled his way to the two, placing the bottle on the table and his ass in a chair, filling up one of the shot glasses before turning his glance towards the others.

"Pre war liquor...."

"This stuff was damned fine before the bombs fell, might as well be liquid gold now...."

"Either of you drinkers?"

Asked the smuggler, gesturing towards the others with the open end of the bottle.

OOC




I got something coming up soon, stay tuned!​

 

[Fenris]

Kaine

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Her response actually managed to lighten his mood a bit. Spreading his hands helplessly he answered, “Only because this room had no better company to offer.” A nod toward the bunch by the old screen accentuated the statement.


“Regrettably I find myself a poor opponent... too easy to read.” He said, noting the inquisitive look and putting a flat smile back in place. A facade that nearly shattered with the arrival of Finch and his offer of drink. He really didn't want to accrue any further sense of debt, but this stuff sounded too good to turn down. “Habitual, I fear.” Kaine said reaching for a bottle. “By the way, I still owe you for that warning. Didn't think machines had a taste for vengeance, no wonder the worlds gone to sh@&!, ey?” the brunette finished by pouring a glass and then pushing the bottle toward Claire.


“A game to pass the time? Losers drink?” Kaine asked, already passing out the cards with quick snaps of his wrist. For now he resisted the urge to manipulate the cards, losing wouldn't be so bad after all.

@HunterJJ @Clairvoyance​

 

[Clairvoyance]

Claire

Firearm Accuracy: 5/10


Melee Weapons: 9/10


Hand to Hand: 3/10


Defense/Agility/Dodging: 7/10


Mechanical/Explosives Aptitude: 1/10

"Never tried." Claire replied to Finch, sitting down at the booth and looking at the bottle curiously. "Sure looks old though. Are you sure it's not spoiled or something?" Back home, there wasn't much liquor, especially not for the younger people of the community. Any alcohol to be had went to the adults and elderly; one more pleasure before the end of their lives.


Kaine began dealing out the cards, and Claire gave him an awkward smile. "I haven't really played before, so I'm nowhere near good." She told them with a small laugh. If they began betting or gambling, she was out. It was bad enough that she sucked. She didn't want to lose her revolver or whatever else they might want.


For some reason, the constant rattling of the landcrawler was comforting for her. She always loved traveling fast, but hardly ever got the chance to do so. When she was a kid, she had vowed to fly in one of those pre-war helicopters. Seeing as that was unlikely, she decided that she might just visit the deck above later. For now, she had to get in the game though.





@HunterJJ @Fenris

 

[StoneWolf18]

test

Location: Land Crawler, Cargo Hold > Lounge


Thoughts: That...wasn't the best idea...


Status: Fucked over


Tags: @Anyone


Assets


Firearm Accuracy || 5/10


Melee Weapons || 2/10


Hand to Hand || 5/10


Defense/Agility/Dodging || 10/10


Mechanical/Explosives aptitude || 3/10

Raphael slowly sits before trying to stand, swaying upon her feet, she grasps onto the workbench the pieces to her Auto rifle were resting upon. Despite the initial effects having already passed, the woman still felt as if she had just woken up after a night of drinking hard old world liquor. Shutting her eyes for a moment, Raph attempted to collect herself before gathering her things. She needed to get some fresh air.


After shoving her weapons into her pack and slinging it over her shoulder, the mutant exited her car and began to head towards the central living area, though when nearing the lounge she peered inside to see many of those she had fought along side in the bar. Knowing drinking at this time wasn't the best thing she could be doing, Raphael couldn't help herself. Plus, why not make some conversation?


Stumbling into the car, Raph slowly made her way over to where most of the people she recognized has gathered. She looked quite off, her face pale, coated in a now drying sweat. Though her voice was somewhat light, yet a bit shaky. "Hello all of you."

 

[Throne Trinity]

Vicar Micolash

As the album currently playing comes to an end, Vicar removes the record from the player. For a moment he rummages through a small leather messenger bag he had brought along with him. One by one Vicar pulls out the following objects: a needle and thread, a vial congaing black ink, an empty vial, a bloodstained rag and a new record. This one is an album (Hypnotize) by System of a Down. Vicar sets the record in the record player but does not start it yet. Next, Vicar tears the sheets of the bed and places them on the floor of the bathroom. He then takes the other objects and lines them up on the bathroom sink counter. Vicar begins to strip. First he takes of his mask, then the cloak and finally his fencing jacket and gloves. With his skin exposed Vicar examines himself in the mirror. Hundreds upon hundreds of scars line his torso. Some of the scar tissue is faint and old, while others are more visible. Although most of the scars where fine thin lines, some of them were jagged and ugly. After feeling a few of the newer ones, Vicar leaves the bathroom and goes back over to the record player. He turns it on and turns the volume as high as possible. The sounds of hardcore Nu metal fill the room. Vicar walks back into the bathroom, pulls out his Saber and makes two long incisions down his lower abdomen. His shouts are drowned out by the music. With one hand shaking he picks up the empty vial and the other hand beats himself in the stomach. This forces his stomach mussels to tense up and causes the blood to squelch out of the wound, he shouts some more. Vicar catches the blood in the vial. After corking off the blood vial, Vicar picks up the needle and thread and begins to sew up his new wounds, grunting in displeasure every time he pierces his own skin. After about 15 minutes of shakily stitching himself up, Vicar begins the cleanup process. The Assassin begins to role up the freshly stained sheets and wipes everything down with his bloodstained rag. He then puts away the sheets and his other utensils before grabbing his mask and the two vials. Without caring to put one any more cloths, Vicar walks downstairs holding his mask under his arm and the vials in his hands. Vicar begins to look for the kitchen looking for the kitchen. Usually the man would have tried to cover up more, but the weight of the job was beginning to sink in. He doubted anyone was going to survive so there would be no one to spread the tale of "the time they saw Vicars face". This wasn't Vicar being arrogant either. He doubted he would survive this mission either. After today, and seeing how everyone handled themselves Vicar knew he was working with equals. But that didn't change the fact that they would most likely be dead by the end of tomorrow. Oh well. Vicar shrugs the thoughts away. Not like death was anything new for him. As Vicar wanders around the vessel, he finally finds it. In the lounge next to the bar is a small little stove. After turning on the heat and placing a pot on top of the flame, Vicar pours the liquids into the pot. He begins to stir them and waits for the solution to begin boiling, all the while he whistles to himself.


Vicar:

Firearm Accuracy 3/10


Melee Weapons 9/10


Hand to Hand 5/10


Defense/Agility/Dodging 7/10


Mechanical/Explosives aptitude 1/10

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[Uncultured]

@Clairvoyance @StoneWolf18 @Fenris

Finch




"You've never had a drink......? Ever? Damn, never met someone who could claim lifetime sobriety." said Finch, his eyebrows raising for a moment before speaking again.

"So, feel like breaking the lifetime streak?" asked Finch, filling up the second of three shot glasses, passing down the newly filled glass to Claire with an expectant smile. Before she could make her answer regarding her drink, Finch picked up his glass and knocked back his shot in one smooth motion, cringing slightly as the hard liquor landed in his stomach with a slight burn.

As he placed the glass back on the table, the Half-Sythid woman strode up to the table, looking quite pallid and sickly, causing Finch to cringe his forehead with concern, a concern that only grew as she spoke in a slightly shaky and faint tone.

"Hey, how're you doing? You look a little.... shaky, you alright?" asked Finch.

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