Dimensional Clash X [IC]

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Dimensional Clash X [IC] - Page 2 Empty Re: Dimensional Clash X [IC]

Post by AestheticMonkey on Fri Nov 15, 2019 2:49 pm

A collab between Aeth and Zandiddle

Vault 13

Deep within the bowels of the ancient, abandoned fallout shelter. A passed-out dwarf would awake, gasping for breath as she sucked in the mildew-tainted air with gusto. Next to her, an old grizzly bear stirred to life as well. The two glanced around their dark, damp environment with confusion. Barely able to see their surroundings from the dimmed and dying emergency lights. Lusa would grasp Talonclaw tightly as she slowly rose to her feet. "Come on Bonnie, lets go." She didn't want to stick around in some dark cave for long.

As the hunter and her faithful beast made their way out, they would stumble upon the desiccated body of some great deathclaw. Not knowing what it was, Lusa approached it slowly and with great caution. Giving it a light poke with her spear. It was dead, and with that knowledge she relaxed. Looking around she could also see human skeletons scattered about. They were unarmed for the most part. Had they died fighting these reptiles that were scattered about?

Bonnie, being a bear, had no qualms about eating things that were going a bit bad, and after the sound of tearing flesh and squelching fluids. Lusa would turn around to find the old sow gorging herself on one of the reptiles. "No no! Don't eat that ya dumb sow!" She commanded, running forward to try and pull the bear's muzzle out of the carcass. Instead, she ended up getting spattered with gore as the bear crunched down on its heart. Old green blood coated her skin, and she would pull away, gagging. Unbeknownst to her, she had just been splattered with a ton of still active FEV. Even though the deathclaw was expired.

A few minutes later, after Bonnie had filled herself, and the two had gotten to the exit stairs. Lusa was feeling very queasy, and having trouble walking. Was she in a monoxide pit? She was underground probably. She scrambled for the stairs, but soon overwhelming pain filled her limbs as she was sent screaming to the ground. Her limbs were lengthening, growing black scales. Her hands clenched as her nails were slowly pushed out, and wicked, pointed claws began to grow in their stead from the fingerbone. Her feet were cramped harshly as her heels lifted and her ankle extended. Forming a second joint as her feet extended, her toes quickly becoming long claws with which to grasp the earth.

She breathed heavily, scratching at her skin as it began to peel off in layers, like a snake shedding its old skin. It looked satisfying in some way, yet it was nothing but an itchy hell for the changing dwarf. A pressure from her backside forced her pants to move downwards as a lengthy, but not unreasonable tail began to grow out of her. Broad and tapering out to a relatively thin point. Triangular, ossified scales adorned the top of the appendage. She swore that she could feel her arms lengthening, and her shoulder joint just changing slightly. She couldn't move her arms as much as she used to, but the joint felt a whole bunch stronger.

Her face strained, and the worst headache imaginable forced her onto the metal floor as she let out a pitiful groan of pain. Her teeth clattered to the floor as her very jawbone began to push out, and two bony protrusions pushed their way out her skull. She could hear her skull shifting and lengthening, putting pressure on her brain as her vision swam. She could feel new, dagger-like teeth pushing their way through her vacant gums as her slull finally ceased it's forward expansion. Leaving her with a muzzle, and two proud horns jutting from her head. She was far taller now, towering over a regular human and meeting a super-mutant face to face.

Her loyal sow had not gone without its own changes. The bear had sustained deathclaw mutations. Its front paws were capped by massive, stout claws whose girth would put any deathclaw to shame. Her overall size had grown, and her furry bulk was instead augmented with a latticework of scales and bony cortexes. Loose tufts of hair jutted from gaps in these scales, giving her a slightly mangy appearance. A fat and stubby tail now jutted from her backside, and her mamammalian visage was traded for a reptilian one. Her head almost looked crocodilian, with thick jutting fangs giving her a snaggletoothed maw. Her eyes were a piercing yellow glow, and two thick pillars of keratin former her deadly horns. She looked as though she was the lovechild of a crocodile and a bear.

Lusa stumbled out from the vault, gasping and looking down at her changed body and physique. Still in disbelief over her change in that damned hole in the ground. Her mind was racing, thoughts swimming about that she wasn't sure if they were her own. Her senses felt clearer, sharpened, as if she had gone about life blind, deaf, and incapable of smell. It was all very overwhelming, and thusly the former dwarf continued to walk out and into the wilderness, and unwittingly deeper into NCR territory. Her pet, Bonnie, followed after her with some apprehension. The old sow knew it was her master... but wasn't her master at the same time. It was just as confusing for the bear as it was Euspeth. Unbeknownst to the bear however, it had mutated as well. But it lacked the memory and critical thought to think she was anything else in her life.

After a period of wandering, Lusa would come upon what looked to be a group of humans marching on a broken, dusty road through the mountains. Perhaps they could help her! She would begin to approach the travelling caravan. Her voice was hoarse, and she didn't feel like shouting. So she waved as she ran closer to them. Not that she could make any words yet, she had yet to adjust to her entirely new mouth structure. Lusa came from a world in which there were talking, intelligent reptile on two legs. For the people of the Fallout Wasteland however, she was probably a demon sent to kill them all or something.

"What the-" One of the caravan's guards yelped out, cutting himself off as he hurriedly fired his shotgun. The other two guards and even the assumed owner of the caravan were quick to follow suit with a myriad of weaponry from automatic rifles to laser pistols. When it came to anything resembling Lusa, it was better to shoot on sight and shoot as much as possible than wait to be slaughtered by some mutated monstrosity.

Given the sudden hail of gunfire and lasers impacting her scaled flesh. It was an easy decision for Euspeth to just scarper off towards the tree-line, and away from the crowd of people who were ready to dispense some indiscriminate fire. Bonnie followed shortly thereafter. Her massive, armored bulk helping absorb some of the shots aimed at her master. The two disappeared as quickly as they had come. Leaving the two panting in the wilderness of the Sierra Nevada mountains. She slumped behind a pine tree, panting and clutching her chest. The Eagle-Spear grasped firmly in her hands. "Fuck," she muttered, at a loss for words.

She would recuperate, and would begin to follow the road. Long after the Caravan had passed, seeing anything deathclaw related tended to get people moving quickly. It was long, lonesome and would eventually lead directly to the Mojave Desert. Along this route, there were undoubtedly settlements that sprung up. Taking advantage of the caravans, trade and natural resources to make a living. Lusa would soon come upon one of these towns. This time, her spear was non-threateningly pointed to the ground, and the other around her waist. She would approach the settlement, ashamed of her own nudity, and hoping that gunfire wouldn't meet her once again. Her bear refused to follow her, probably because it knew the answer already.

One denizen glanced over, spotting her in the distance. The quickly elbowed their buddy, as the two were supposed to be guarding the settlement. "Shit, look at that- Is that a deathclaw holding a stick?" He gasped.

"What?! Where-" His compatriot gasped, horror consuming her expression as she screamed in terror, "THEY'RE FUCKING EVOLVING! KILL IT!" She scrambled for her megaphone and pointed it towards the rest of the settlement and screamed, much to the dismay of her level-headed partner, "THERE'S A DEATHCLAW ATTACKING THE TOWN! GET INDOORS!" With that, she took her sniper rifle from its leaning against the wall of their watchtower and fired upon Lusa. Meanwhile, the folk of the town were understandably in a panic as they either rushed indoors or decided to be brave and fire wildly in the general direction of the deathclaw threat.

She let out a roar of pain as the bullet smacked into her leg. Thankfully, being a deathclaw hybrid. That didn't harm her too much, although the shallow wound burnt like hell. She hissed loudly and ran in the complete opposite direction, towards cover, towards safety. Run. Hide. Stay. Listen. She even ran on all fours at some point in her panic to get away from all of that nonsense. What the hell was that? Why did she think like that? It didn't feel like her. Her head was pounding, and she felt sick to her stomach. So she was a monster now and this wasn't Azeroth.

Thusly, she would continue to follow the road to the Mojave. She would stay close to it, keeping it within viewing distance. But she did not dare walk on it for long. Lest she encounter another caravan, and risk a lucky shot blowing her brains out. She kept to the wilds, hunted for sustenance, and found that she was even tolerant of dirty water. She found it odd though, the less her meal was cooked, the better it tasted, and even fire seemed to provoke some unease deep within her. Once again, she came into conflict with the two versions of herself that now resided within the same body. Each vying for dominance. When a group of raiders stumbled upon her temporary nest, they were slaughtered to the last. She made some makeshift clothes out of their own belongings, and even gave them some shallow graves. Though, a small voice in the back of her head chided her for wasting meat. She didn't want to think about that too hard.

Eventually, after a few days of wandering. She could see some form of complex in the distance. A gentle slope that led to an area with many gates, and what looked to be two buildings nearby. Several rusted structures were strewn about, and there were many sandbags and fortifications about. It looked to be the only way through that wasn't attempting to climb a sheer rock face. There were also people there, people with guns. People who would likely shoot at her, and ask questions over her corpse. She saw no way around it, and so gently mounted the back of Bonnie. "I need you to run really hard and really fast girl." The hunter asked her pet, and the loyal beast obliged. To the people of the Mojave Outpost. They could see what looked to be a humanoid deathclaw, riding the lovechild of a yao-guai and deathclaw. They were speeding hard towards the place, and this would likely incite some panic among the caravners holed up there, and the troopers stationed there.

"Is that... What I... You're seeing that too, right?!" One of the rangers of the NCR cried out. It only took less than a minute for much of the outpost's attention to be diverted towards the incoming weird-looking-deathclaw riding some yao-guai abomination. Nobody was entirely sure of what to do. The more established outpost meant the people were a bit more reasonable than most Lusa would have encountered. It also helped that she was wearing clothes and, well, riding another creature.

The non-military types such as caravans hurried their brahmin out of sight while those without such obligations dashed indoors. Many of the trropers and rangers took to putting distance between themselves and the gate that separated them from the Long 15. Arms were raised, but did not fire. If this clothes-wearing-deathclaw stopped at the gate, that would be a good indicator for them that perhaps it was not hostile.

Arms were raised however, and Lusa assumed it was only a matter of time until they began to fire. As such, the massive reptile kept barreling forward. Straight into the gate. The poor metal hinge on the fencepost wasn't meant to handle such forces, and it flew off with a loud clang. Letting the beast charge directly into the outpost unhindered. It didn't divert and try to start mauling people however. Instead, it kept a laser-like focus on moving forwards. Lusa meanwhile, held on for dear life, clutching the scales of Bonnie's back with all of her might.

Anyone, deathclaw or not, would have been shot if they crashed through the gate into an NCR outpost like that. And so, that is exactly what happened. There was a hail of fire from every direction raining down upon poor Lusa and Bonnie as rangers and troopers- and even a few civilians from windows- shot at the speeding deathclaw and her yao-guai-like mount.

Thankfully, the majority of the rounds were not from high powered weapons, and thusly embedded themselves uselessly within Bonnie's armor, or her bulk. Lusa however, was not as durable, but was a deathclaw. Some pistol and carbine rounds didn't penetrate her, but it was like being stabbed really hard by a blunt metal chapstick tube. Very painful. Some managed to penetrate, slipping through her scales, or in the case of higher power rounds. Cratering them inwards. The mutated bear kept trucking however, and soon the two were free of the outpost. This would certainly be a story to tell, and perhaps a target for the Rangers to hunt down and deal with. They could be seen heading off in the distance, towards Nipton. She would arrive in the town after some time, and noted how not a soul could be seen. She searched through the desolate place, finding only bloody corpses hung up on crosses, and a headless man slumped inside of a store. Some great impact had pulverized his cranium, and dented the wall significantly. There was nothing for her in this town of the dead, and so she continued East.

The humanoid deathclaw and her yaoclaw... deathguai, would trek along the quiet road. Coming upon Camp Searchlight, and the constant NCR patrol that was maintained around it. Granted, the sight of her in the distance would likely make the embittered soldiers of Camp Searchlight to just fire on her outright. She didn't even bother to stay around long enough for them to try and get shots off without wasting ammo on thin air and dirt. Though they might like to radio it in to the NCR, if they had any equipment. Likely to let the nearby Ranger Station know about it. She was last seen heading North, towards Novac.

Indeed they did, which was quickly corroborated with a similar report from the Mojave Outpost of the slim deathclaw and its strange mount crashing through the outpost. It was clearly heading east, that much was obvious. Its northward trek would lead to speculation on its destination, and there would eventually be specialists on tracking and hunting deathclaws sent out to investigate.

Lusa continued to head north, towards the settlement of Novac. She noted that there was a large devilsaur, cartoonishly styled, holding up a sign with the words "Motel" emblazoned upon them. She had no idea what the words meant, but the place intrigued her none the less. Her optimism wouldn't let her give up hope just yet, and so she continued to approach the town. Unknowing of the sniper that took up residence in the tower. She swore than in the distance she could spy what looked to be a massive, dark person in the distance, and a much smaller person following them. The heat made it difficult to discern any details however.

A few heads turned at the gunshots, but none really paid them much mind as Craig Boone, Novac's most noteworthy sharpshooter, fired at the ground by her feet. He hadn't missed, as he only intended to tell her to stay away. If she were to take a step closer and tarnish the civil expectations her clothes set, he would not hesitate to go for the head.

Seeing the shots land at her feet, she got all the information that she needed. She scurried *away* from the sniper who was hidden within the dinosaur, out east. Towards Clark Field. She had no pip-boy or electronics to warn her about radiation, but being part deathclaw, she was pretty resistant to that sort of thing. She stopped though, sniffing the air and crouching low. Bonnie too, got into a defensive stance. She would creep forward, finding the corpse of some double-headed cow. That wasn't disturbing, what was disturbing was the stench of others creatures. If they were long gone, or still around, she couldn't tell.

A golden gecko, a highly irradiated variant of the Mojave's infamous critter, meandered past a corner and spotted her. With a screech, it charged for the humanoid deathclaw as a small herd of the creatures followed suit. The entire area was infested with them, and despite being partially deathclaw, they saw Lusa as prey.

Lusa would bring Talonclaw to bear, as her Bonnie bear charged forth. Barreling into one of the geckos, and pinning it down beneath her weight. Tearing it apart with her teeth as she mauled it with her claws. Lusa would join in on the action, running a gecko through with her spear, as she stayed close to her pet. She was an armored wall that would protect her from being flanked by these reptiles. She would throw her spear at another, running it through and pinning it to the ground beneath it. Three were dead so far, but now she had only herself to fight off the rest of them, until she could get her spear back.

Two geckos bounded for Lusa while three came for Bonnie. One leaped beside the other, jumping up at her top while the second went for her legs. The three attacking the yaoclaw seemed to simply rush the creature all at once. These, however, seemed the bravest of the golden geckos as some in the herd backed off and ran away, likely to corral any younglings that wanted to join in on the action.

The yaoclaw was armored to a fault, and thusly didn't mind the extra opponenets. Pulling away from the expired gecko under its paws, it turned its bloodstained muzzle to them, and roared out her challenged. She'd charge at them, bounding up onto her hind legs as she took a hard swipe at one of them. Her strength, combined with her claws, tore the Gecko's chest cavity to ribbons. Dropping to the ground where it seemed to perish on impact. A second tried to bite at one of her forelegs, and the sow simply brought her weight down upon it. Crushing it beneath her bulk, this left only one. Which she proceeded to barrel into, attempting to gore it upon her horns.

Lusa meanwhile, was having to fight the two unarmed and unarmored. She would give the top gecko a hefty swipe with her clawed hand, raking its belly deeply. The one going for her legs however, managed to connect. Biting into her scales, and soliciting a roar of pain from her. Her mind went blank, and without thinking she arched her head down and bit at the Gecko's spine. She'd keep applying pressure, until she felt the thing beneath her quit moving. No matter how much it tried to claw, or squirm away.

The geckos were no match for the two, having been easily dispatched. Those that remained scurried off in the face of a far superior beast. The gecko she had caught in her teeth frantically writhed and clawed at her, tearing at her makeshift attire and scales before its unstably mutated form gave way to the pressure of her bite. Her teeth would end up sinking into the gecko and its irradiated blood spilling out onto her and the ground shortly before it finally died.

She would pull away from the now slain beast, her mind slowly clearing. Until she found that she was soaked in the blood of the gecko, and that her clothes were essentially ruined. Falling off her uselessly as she stood up. Some circular puncture marks adorning her left leg. Now she truly did look like some ravenous beast, she went to go pick up her spear, and turned around to find that Bonnie was sating herself with the fresh Brahmin. The hunger flashed across her mind, and in short notice she too felt the urge to eat. Seeing noone around, she joined in on the feast. The raw kill tasted... better than she had remembered.

By the time the two had finished, she was covered in drying blood, and looked little better than some feral beast. She would head east, towards what looked to be a massive canyon cleaving the landscape in twain. First however, she would have to pass through the outskirts of a mine. The place looked old, dilapidated. Her old dwarven gumption told her to head towards the place, but no dwarf would ever let a mine that wasn't abandoned or crumbling get into that sorry of a state. If there were any legionaries posted outside of the mine, they might be looking to scramble back into a more defensible position.

Indeed, two were posted outside of the mine and scurried inside in unison. She would be able to hear yelling from inside, telling the others of a coming deathclaw. There were loud, erratic footsteps and the sound of shuffling equipment before a squad of men poured out. While legionaries obviously preferred melee combat over using firearms, they weren't so braindead as to try and take on a deathclaw with a switchblade. As with so many she encountered before them, they fired upon Lusa in hopes of boasting about the glory of slaying a deathclaw.

Her eyes narrowed at them, before she ran in the opposite direction of the gunfire. There would be no glory for them, and no more death. She'd weave between the many rocks of the descending slope, quickly becoming untargetable by Legion guns. All she wanted to do, was find someplace with people who wouldn't try and kill her, and if she could not do that, than to hell with it. She would live out here, with her bear, and woe be to anyone that attempted to hunt, or harm her. She slunk down into the cool waters of the Colorado, washing the filth from her body as she swam across. Seeing a welcoming path up through the canyon. It was a steep dirt slope, but beyond that, there ought to be a way to the world on the other side right? She would crest the ridge, and stroll into the Promotary. There were many scents here, oddly comforting ones to her. She got the image of a friend from them, for some reason. Bonnie likewise was relaxed in this area. Lusa however, couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.

She would hear thumps against the ground and relaxed, but gravely breathing. A beast akin to what she hard partially mutated into walked from around a rock and paused upon spotting her. Likewise, there were many others that slowly came onto the scene. Despite their near-demonic appearance, they did not seem hostile, but rather... Curious. They sniffed the air, taking in her scent that wafted over to them as they inched closer.

While she was clearly not a deathclaw... At the same time, she also was. It was definitely an unprecedented encounter for the beasts. They kept a certain distance from her, still trying to process what she was exactly and watching to see what she would do. Though it became quickly apparent that she was the 'talk of the town' so to speak, as nearly fourty deathclaws had gathered to see her.

She looked around the fourty deathclaws, and showed no signs of agression. Even cowering down slightly in their presence, showing her neck and keeping her gaze off of them. She would slowly walk towards them, aiming for a gap in their formation. As a hunter, she had a way with beasts, fitting then that she would find refuge among them. She'd mainly try and keep out of their way, and find some form of unoccupied shelter. Hopefully, they wouldn't mind a new member joining their pack. Right?

While territorial creatures, the deathclaws were still perlexed by her very existence. Those she came closest too stepped back before slowly following her, as did the rest of the large pack. The yaoclaw, too, was just as much of a curiosity to them as Lusa was. As the deathclaws filtered from big to small in the order they followed (Save for the youngest intermingling throughout the crowd), the largest of them (Save for the bulky, almost green-tinted members of the group) followed most closely. It was a darker tint than most of the others, and its long claws an almost ivory black.

She would stop before an unclaimed burrow, and noticed that there was now a dark deathclaw, with dark scales and a few ruddy sections on its body. Given its massive stature, and the wicked claws upon its hands. She was right to presume that this was the leader of the group. She would set her spear aside, and Bonnie would watch from a distance. She made herself small, huddling close to the ground while holding her neck out. Trying to show her submission, and that she was not a threat to him. Keeping her eyes focused on the ground. She didn't want to risk being assertive, if things went south, all of them could be upon her.

The deathclaw came closer to her, bending down some to crane its head around and look at her as it sniffed. By her posture and deathclaw-enough appearance and smell, it deemed her not a threat, though it was still suspect of her. In either case, it had obligations as the leader of the pack, and barked at the others, which would sound more like a furious growling roar to the unfamiliar ear. Slowly, the crowd dispersed, heads still turned to her for a moment before the many deathclaws went about their deathclaw-business while the leader stayed.

She would slowly look up, seeing that the other deathclaws had dispersed, she presumed things were mostly alright. She didn't like how he was lingering about though, she would try backing off into the burrow. Still keeping her posture, but the deathclaw only stepped closer in turn. It let out a light growl as it smelled her again, its reptilian eyes squinting at her. She stopped what she was doing, and froze for a moment. Obeying his wordless command for now, he clearly wanted her to stay around, but for what?

Crescent Canyon

A towering, dark-furred figure strode along the broken ridge of the canyon, before looking down upon the drop below. She'd jump from her position, landing with a thud on the baked ground of the canyon. All around she could see red, hard objects that made loud noises when hit, and around them a foul-smelling and tasting water. She moved away from them, heading towards where the ground sloped up, a way out of this.. crescent canyon. The unnamed girl was a striking sight in the Mojave. Given her wild hair, ape-like appearance, and method of locomotion. She seemed to alternate between walking on her thickly calloused knuckles, or balancing on her digitgrade legs. She would poke her head, and saw another stone river snaking through the land. Were there short-people here too? They looked like her, but they were not her. They were too short and weak, maybe sick? Why else would they attack her so much, they were feverish, rabid. Hopefully there would be no group of people walking with food carrying food.

An observant person, if there were any, might see the head of a very odd girl peeking over a distant rock. She looked... horned? Or was that just the heat playing tricks?

Shortly after exiting the canyon, she would by spotted by four men armed with mismatching guns and even more haphazard armor. They were covered from head to toe in filth, and most notably, surrounded by syinges and inhalers in their foldout chairs. "Sh-Shit, what the fuck is that!?" One screamed, pointing to her frantically as he nearly fell out of his seat and reached for his gun.

"Dude... Dude, relax... FUCKING RELAX- It's just a hallucination from the... What all did we do again? Pretty sure jet was in there, right?" One mumbled to reassure his friend, interrupted by his brief scream to make him calm down.

"So... Do we shoot it?"

"No, no, no- Man- Dude- I read a thing, like-"

"You read?"

"DON'T FUCKING INTERRUPT ME- and it said that if you shoot, like... A hallucination in the head... You actually end up shooting yourself in the head..."

"Woah... Wait, so if I..." One of the raiders lifted his pistol, and instead of aiming for her head, he shot his own head. His theory was that if shooting her head meant he shot his own head, then shooting his own head would, in actuality, shoot the 'hallucination's' head. This, of course, did not work, and he died.

The short-people squabbled and spoke in strange growls, barks and warbles. They waved around their thundersticks, and already she began to shrink back a bit. Then, one of them aimed the thunderstick at their head, and it crashed. Their head jerked around, and smelly-pink lump began to pour out of the hole, along with sharp water. She was scared, and a bit apprehensive. Why did they thunder themselves? She would move closer, on all fours this time. A very defensible posture, that she could move very quickly in if she needed to. She liked to get close to others, but few ever let her do so.

"Dude... Jerry's dead... Wait, fuck- Look. The ha-juice-nation is coming closer!"

"Nah, nah... It's the same distance as before, man... Like... In our minds. Get it?" The raider tapped his skull with the end of his own pistol to emphasize his point.

It took the other two a moment to process what he said due to a mixture of the chems they were high on and their general lack of intelligence before one let out a, "Holy SHIT! That's fucking brilliant! Dude you're, like... You're a fucking uh... You're a degree."

"Thanks, I appreciate it- And I appreciate you."

"So what do we do about the halalu?" One asked, causing all three to turn their attention back to her, "Should we shoot it?"

"Nah, man... It's like sleep-walking. You gotta just ignore it," The same raider who had proposed that shooting her head would kill them explained, "This is why you guys gotta read shit."

She would walk closer to the short people, they seemed odd in how they acted, like a sick beast stumbling out to die. Maybe they needed help? Maybe she could comfort them? She would come even closer, standiing amongst them, and sitting down. She'd look over to the dead person, and then back to them. She'd let out a grunt, and reach over to the one that convinced the other to thunder themselves. She just... enjoyed the sensation of touching something like her. It was reassuring in some odd way.

"Shit.. Shit... Shit- Dude, it's gonna fuckin' touch you!" One cried out.

"It's okay. I am not actually being touched. You guys get way too into your fuckin' chems, man," The raider scoffed, smiling contentedly.

Finally, the most quiet of the group spoke up after assessing the situation. He was methodical in his approach to the hallucination, carefully examining it with squinted eyes before making a startling observation, "Fuckheads, look... It has tits. Massive fucking knockers."

"No, no, no- See, it's a hallucination, so in reality... It's our brains- our minds that have tits."

She would scoot closer to the raiders, and gently remove any headwear they had. Examining it deeply, before aping their mannerisms and placing it on her own head. She knew little of social standards, nor small-talk. So she gently went over the man's head, rubbing the scalp, and checking for parasites, as her mother had done with her when she was young, before they left. She did indeed have tits, large ones, but given her massive stature, they weren't a hinderance for her body. She could crack a Deathclaw's skull with her thighs alone. She'd then take a thunderstick, entirely too small for her hands, and just observe it. How did such a small thing make so much noise?

"Wait, how can a hula dancer pick up our fuckin' guns?"

"It's not, dumbass. Obviously, one of us is picking up the gun," The 'smartest' raider explained as he gestured to the firearm she grabbed, "But we're just hallucinating sitting down. It's real wild shit."

"... I dunno man, this is starting to get fucky, and I think I'm starting to come down from my high..." His friend disagreed with skepticism as he got up from his seat and rubbed at his runny nose with his arm. He meandered over to her with a hum before poking her arm.

She was very much a real, physical being. She looked up to the raider with a quizzical expression, cocking her head as she set the gun down on the dirt. Before reciprocating the poke with her own, much larger hand. She felt her lips curl up into a smile, displaying her rather sharp-toothed grin. She was rather happy, finally she was with people that didnt hurt her, or run!

However, the raider had finally come to realize, "D-Due.. Th-This thing is fuckin' real..." He stepped back, trembling in horror as he appreciated just how large she was in comparison to them, how easily she could crush them. He shakily reached for his gun as he sputtered, "This thing IS FUCKING RE-"

The quiet raider slapped his frightened buddy across the face and reiterated his earlier sentiment, staring into the other's eyes as he told him, "This thing. Has massive. Fucking. Tits. How many big tits like that you see on the chicks we grab, huh?!" He angrily gestured his hand at her- more specifically her chest.

"B-But fucking look at that thing! We gotta shoot it!" The raider screamed.

"No, fuckhead. God damn. All the fuckin' time dumbasses just shootin' shit without even usin' your damn head. Yeah, it's got big fuckin' teeth, but look at those tits." He forcibly grabbed the panicking raider's head and turned his gaze to her chest.



"There are no tits," The 'intelligent' raider interjected in the midst of their argument.

"Holy- Shut the fuck up. You're not even high- You're just a fuckin' idiot!" The realist raider snapped.

"Why, of course I'm high. I've inhaled, like... Five je-"

"I just told you that was jet you shithead! I filled your thing with fuckin' pebbles! You've just been inhaling pebble-scented air! Being a raider is fun and all- But god damn, you guys just... Look, we're not shooting it."

The nameless girl didn't have much of a clue as to what was going on, but they sounded upset over something. One even grabbed anothers head, and pointed it at her chest, and gestured to it. Why were they so interested in her chest? She was getting a bit nervous now, and her instincts asked her to stand, so she stood. Easily towering over the raiders, though her body was still relaxed. She did look like she was having some second thoughts, a bit of primal nervousness she couldn't hide.

"O-Oh god, it' fucking attacking! Kill i-"

The raider's mouth was covered by who seemed to have stepped up as the leader of the group by that point. "Shut up. I hate you," He seethed before pulling back, "Look. When was the last time we had a good shakedown, huh? It's been two fuckin' weeks since we got a good haul! And now Jerry's gone and killed himself!" He looked over at the corpse and spat on it with an embittered, "Dumbass," before continuing, "I say, we train this thing- Like a dog, right?"

"We're going to play fetch with it?"

"No you- I hate you. No, we'll train it to do three things: Guard us, kill assholes we tell it to, screw, and get supplies or lift heavy shit," The leader declared as one of the two others counted on their fingers in confusion.

"Wait you wanna fucking SCREW that thing!?"

"You can go fuck yourself, but I'll be stickin' it between this thing's massive fuckin' tits. It looks human enough anyway, right?" He turned back around to her with a hand on his chin, though noting her nervousness as he reached his hands up in an effort to calm her down, "Hey, hey, uh... Ya fuckin' weird-ass mutant, it's alright."

She didn't feel alright, and not understanding a single bit of English, she used body-language. Right now he looked angry, mad, he spat on the dead little-person. He was mad, mad little-people point thundersticks at her, then she's hurt. She began to look more and more panicked. Slowly backing away from the raider. Soon, he would have no tits, and a dead raider if he didn't act in the right way.

"W-What the fuck ya doin', get over here," He huffed, turning his head to his buddies, "Why the fuck is it backin' away like that? Is that a dog thing?"

"That's because you're getting mad at it. Let me handle this, I'm the calm one of the group, that's my niche in our dynamic," The other assured as he stood up and calmly approached her.

"The fuck're you talkin' about dynamics?" The leader muttered in confusion with squinted eyes.

"Watch and learn," The relaxed raider remarked before turning to her and walking slowly, "I read this in a book if you break into someone's house and they got a dog in there growling at you and stuff, just calmly say 'good dog' over and over. Works every time. Ahem, good dog, good dog, good dog."

It may have worked if she was a dog, and had been raised around people her whole life. But as a feral being, all the repeated words made her feel uneasy. To her, it was just some sharply accentuated barking. She backed away further. She had learnt much, but, she was starting to get scared now. He was getting madder, and this person didn't like her either.

The raider's smile dropped as his arms slumped down. He turned around to the others and shrugged. "I don't think it's a dog," He said, jabbing a thumb back at her as if this was some startling revelation.

"Okay, what the fuck are we gonna do then?! Our tits are gonna get away!"

"FUCK!" The typically-panicked raider screamed before throwing some jerky just past the relaxed raider. It tumbled across the sand and stopped near her.

"The fuck was that?"

"Oh, I threw it some food," He explained.

Normally, food would be a great way to earn trust. People in the wasteland however, threw rocks, bang-nuts and claws. Just the act of throwing from a short-person was enough to send her scarpeding off in the opposite direction. Fearing the searing pain and disorientation of a bang-nut.

"Aw- Fuck! Quick go for its legs you shitheads!" The leader screamed, grabbing his rifle from the ground and firing at her. The other two took a bit more time to get their respective weapons before joining him.

She continued to run on her knuckles, quickly speeding out of there and onto the dry lake south of Primm. She felt a particularly stinging bullet embed itself on the back of her thigh. She winced in pain, and stumbled slightly in her running, but otherwise kept at it. Her mutant physiology granted her some great resistance, the wound would heal on its own well enough. But gell, it hurt alot. The feral whimpering from the burning pain as she ran. Straight towards Primm.

She'd slow down as she neared the underpass road, stopping under one of the bridges to get a better look of her wounded leg. She did this without the knowledge of there people with thundersticks just above her head. She whimpered loudly, as she reached down into the circular wound and pulled out the mushroomed head from her dense muscle fibers. It sounded like a woman whimpering to anyone nearby who might be listening.


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Dimensional Clash X [IC] - Page 2 Empty Re: Dimensional Clash X [IC]

Post by megaman177 on Fri Nov 15, 2019 6:46 pm


Culitt Belidd had broken significant ground since his rude awakening in the Mesquite Mountains crater. Making a pilgrimage far north, the part-time tyrant had managed to elude most disturbance by sticking to the dusty, barren side-paths.

To Culitt's joy, all the meddlesome water from the crater had dissipated off of his armour as-well. Not so much to his joy, his cybernetic armaments were now encrusted with vast amounts of sand.

"It's paramount to treason for the Queens to abandon me like this." Culitt muttered, trying to rub the grains out of the crevices of his suit. "Lich duty's overrated, come to think of it." Stumbling about trying to groom his inelegant war equipment, the Grineer was by now not far off the path to Jacobstown, having lost track of how far he had ventured the wasteland.

Culitt's head lifted from plucking at the distinctive noise of insectoid chittering. "What in twelve types of irritating, weaponized children is it now?"

He peered through his lens at the sight of a gigantic mantis, preparing to devour what looked to him like a Tenno smeared in jam (actually Emma, the notorious .gif image).

Culitt immediately barreled into a sprint, rushing towards the spectacle. "Oh no you don't, TENNO!" he roared, leaping at the mantis and wrapping his arms against its delicate neck. "I won't let some stick insect rob me the chance to give you a rough facial makeover!"

Trying to resist the urge to scratch his sand-infested codpiece, Culitt lifted the attacking mantis clean out of Emma's vicinity, raising it high into the air.

Groaning in exertion, Belidd freed one of his hands from the mantis, no longer able to avoid trying to get the sand out of his crotch. He fiercely began rubbing in the eponymous bodily area before leering at Emma, glaring pure dread through his three eyeholes.

"ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME? IS A TENNO LAUGHING AT ME?!" he yelled at Emma, thoroughly driven to the edge of his sanity by what he had been through up to this measly point. "Well, say CHEESE!"

Using his free hand, Culitt reached for his Drakgoon and brandished it, beginning to fire inaccurately in Emma's direction. Shrapnel burst everywhere, lighting the ground on fire. Meanwhile, he started attempting to bash the unfortunate giant mantis into the ground with his other hand, lifting it high into the air before throwing it down to the floor again and again.

Culitt burst into a barbaric yelling, so violently and endlessly that the rotting fibres of his vocal chords began to break. The Lich had lost all rhyme and reason.

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Post by Lowfn on Fri Nov 15, 2019 7:01 pm


"That's right," Elizabeth asserted as Marcus made his way out of the lodge, as he was better suited near the front gate of Jacobstown. She jabbed a thumb behind herself to the kitchen and snapped, "You wouldn't believe how disgusting and trashed up their kitchen was! It's like they never really used it! They'd just grab stuff out of there- And it was disgusting! And the only person here who has any idea how to cook is the blue grandma!"

A nightkin wearing goggles and a sunhat glanced over from in the kitchen, 'smiling' and waving to the two before going back to stirring a pot that Elizabeth had told her to stir. "AM I ALMOST DONE, DEARIE?" She called from the kitchen in as kind of a voice a nightkin was capable of.

"Almost, Lily! Give it about three more minutes!" Elizabeth answered in a much nicer tone than how she addressed the mutant she sent running out of the lodge before smiling up to Bob.

Once Marcus had left the lodge, he glanced in the direction of Charleston Cave, pausing as he saw little Wilba meandering from it. Had someone snuck into their sanctuary? If so, she wasn't very good at sneaking.what with the torch and big smile on her face. He had also never seen a mutant like the princess before. He changed direction and walked for her, waving a hand to greet her from afar and let her know he was friendly.

Her spear was of little concern to him. Everyone in the Mojave had a weapon, and it wasn't like hers would do much against a super mutant that could probably snap her spine by clenching his hand around her torso.


"Me too, Shlyke," Tina cooed with a big smile before looking around, "Are they here? Ruby and Ernette?" The little girl had no idea of the lasers that had enveloped her and so many others. From her point of view, she was napping in a hotel and then woke up in Novac's motel.

Before their moment could continue, the 'great' Merasmus had arrived with his declaration. The townsfolk exchanged looks with one another, figuring another loon had come by. No-Bark sauntered up to Merasmus, challenging him, "Ah, I get your game. You're a wizard, huh? Come here thinkin' you've got sway? Well, jokes on you! I gave my soul freely to Uncle Sam! You've got no power over me or these people! I've sprinkled salt all over the ground you walk on! Your demonic powers are for naught!"

It was hard to tell given the sand everywhere, but old Noonan had indeed sprinkled a little bit of salt all over the town. While it was originally to keep out any communist poltergeists, he figured it would work against whom he correctly assumed was a man of magic.

Gibson Scrapyard

The tiny mock-securitron would be met with a low growl as a dog approached from a distance very slowly. It bared its teeth at Cuppy for a moment, continuing to growl before letting out a bark, continuing to do so until Old Lady Gibson herself came out to see what the commotion was all about, followed by her other dogs who also began to bark until she shushed them, "Oh hush it, all of you!"

She turned her attention to Cuppy. She would have squatted down if her knees allowed it. "Well, look at you. I didn't know they made you guys that size! How'd you end up in my scrapyard? I'm pretty sure I didn't nab you, and I doubt you coulda gotten in without getting barked at before now."

Atomic Wrangler

The Garret twins exchanged glances before the sister twin, Francine put up her hands and walked into the back room, as if to say, "You deal with this."

James Garret shot her a look before letting out a huff of a laugh and turned to Classy, clearing his throat and smiling confidently to the caps set on the counter and then up at the presumably mutated clown. "Hey there, big guy. Welcome to the Atomic Wrangler. What can I get ya?"

Then the world blew up. The end.

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Post by Lowfn on Fri Nov 15, 2019 7:07 pm

Zandoo and Aethetic collab

Mojave Wasteland, I-65

Two figures walked down the long, shattered interstate of I-65. The great road broken from centuries of disrepair and elemental weathering. A towering man of charcoal complexion and fiery anima, and a teenaged girl walking in his shadow. They were heading up to Novac, having just passed by a an old ranch house.

Harper barely managed to keep up as she slowly trudged along, visibly sweating as she groaned out, "Booolvy? Can you do that carrying thing you were talking about, please?" She thought nothing could have beaten the heat of Mexico, but no, the Mojave was much, much worse. How could people live anywhere below New York?

Bolvar grunted, he was on fire constantly, nothing on this Earth was "too hot" for him anymore. He shifted the hand carrying his hammer, before reaching down with his left hand. He would pick her up in that one arm, and then brace it against his abdomen. "Hold on to my shoulder plate, and rest." He stated. The weight was slightly uncomfortable to him, but he could handle far heavier over a longer distance. He had his hands full, and hopefully he wouldnt have to do any fancy movement or attempt combat with her near him.

"Thanks, Bolvy," Harper sighed, flopping her arms around the parts of his shoulder plate that jutted out and resting her head on her arm, glad to be off her feet. "Shit..." she mumbled, laughing lightly at the poor joke that just came to her, "I wish your name was 'Iceblood' instead of 'Fireblood'..."

He turned his head, and for the briefest of moments a smug smile crept across his face. A fizzling sound could be heard as the red glow of his blood was gradually replaced by a cold, ice blue. The familiar warmth that surrounded him was replaced instead with an icy coolness that seemed to suck the heat out of the air. Needless to say, the metal shoulderpad she was on got a lot cooler.

"Oh my gaaauuuud... Yes..." Harper moaned out, moving her arm a bit and pressing her cheek right against the shoulder plate with a tired smile as she relished in the coldness. "You're the worst-" Her eyes popped open a bit as she bit her tongue, quickly correcting herself, "B-Best- You're the best." With that, she let out a sigh as she relaxed.

"I wonder, was that the heat or your own shock?" Fordragon mused. He had his doubts about the truthfulness of her character, yes, but he hadn't seen conclusive evidence yet. All he knew is that she was a troubled girl from a destroyed town. He'd see her to someplace safer at the very least. They were passing through a more hilly section, within a few miles of some 'trailer park'.

"Hm?" Harper hummed, raising her head a bit to give Bolvar a curious look before resting her cheek against him once more as she asked, "What do you mean?" She reached behind herself with one hand, turning her hat around to better cover her neck and not get in the way as she continued to soak in the cold.

"You said I was the worst, then you corrected yourself. Just thought you got your wording reversed. My shining star used to do the same." His face tightened, and grew grim. As if reminiscing on painful memories that he would rather leave buried. He glanced over to the sign, and kept on strolling. "We should be coming upon a place soon, where we may rest. I do not know what trailer means, but park sounds promising."

"Oh! Oh, yeah, I've been to like, a hundred trailer parks," Harper boasted, though not moving any part of her body off of Bolvar for even an instant at that point, "Not literally a hundred, of course... More like... Maybe eighty. They're pretty nice."

"I still do not know what a trailer is." He replied bluntly. They were getting close to the park, the old, burnt out and rusted trailers were clearly visible from their distance now.

Only a moment later, a pair of NCR Rangers and a trooper stepped out from the concrete walls surrounding the trailer park, all three with a rifle in hand as they stood in a line by the railroad. They didn't seem hostile, but they glared at the approaching Bolvar with stern looks as they waited for him to come a bit closer before they raised their guns in unison.

"That's close enough," One barked, "I ain't seen a super mutant lookin' like you before, but you better state your business walking this road and who that kid is."

"I am escorting her somewhere safer, she is a survivor from the now destroyed town of Nipton." He stated bluntly, letting Harper down and onto her feet with a quickness. The icy blue of his person quickly reigniting to a fiery orange with the crackle and hiss characteristic of fire. He didn't bring his hammer to attention, but his grip tightened and his brow furrowed. He wasn't about to charge into battle, but he was definitely not trusting of the NCR rangers.

With a small huff as she was put down, Harper glanced between Bolvar before looking back to the NCR men, who looked on in shock. "Wait, what was that you said about Nipton?" One questioned.

"Destroyed, burnt. Inhabitants killed or dragged off in chains. She was the only survivor I found, the rest were mercy killings upon crosses, or waiting to die from their injuries." Bolvar replied, his expression unwavering. "A group named the 'Legion' are responsible for the destruction. One yet remained in the town. I meant to dispatch of him, but he was much quicker than I. He had a fox pelt on his head, and was with a prodigiously obese man."

The shock was joined with despair as soon as Bolvar mentioned crosses as the NCR rangers and trooper exchanged glances with one another, slower lowering their weapons as the information sunk in. "They... They aren't even waiting for the Dam to fall," The trooper mumbled, and was quickly- but gently- escorted away by one of the rangers while he continued to express his woe that they all shared, "They're already in our borders- We'll never stop them..."

The remaining ranger cleared his throat before speaking up, "Uh... Thanks for bringing the word- even if the news is bad... If you need to rest here for a little while... Go ahead..." Slowly, the ranger meandered back into the camp, making a gesture with his hand to let any onlooking NCR know that if Bolvar were to walk in, he's friendly.

"Thank you. I was worried this might've ended in disaster." Bolvar stated, giving a courteous bow. Which was more a nod given his stature. He was an extremely odd-looking super mutant for one, none were on fire, or glowed blue. He'd look down to Harper. "Come, you can rest your feet, nap, cool down, whatever you need to do."

"Yeah, don't worry about it," The ranger sighed, stepping around a sandbag barrier as the two entered and leaned against it. Just to do a quick extra-check, he casually asked as Bolvar and Harper passed by, "So big guy here's bringing you somewhere safe after Nipton, huh?"

"Oh, no, he's kidnapping m-" Harper started, realizing mid-sentence how catastrophic such a lie could turn out as she slapped herself across the face to shut herself up and frantically corrected herself, "I-I mean he's not kidnapping me. Not. That was a lie- The part about him kidnapping me."

The ranger stood straight up at that, his sorrow at the news of Nipton quickly wiped away as he glared at the little girl, then up at Bolvar, then back to Harper. "... Why don't you step over here... Sir, could you stand over there, please?" He ordered, pointing over to the center of the park by a scavenged-to-hell automobile while making a gesture with the same hand. At the gesture, the troopers and rangers watching were visibly on-guard, and all eyes were on Bolvar.

Bolvar didn't hear her little damning lie, so he did as asked. He wasn't worried, just a bunch of guns. He could handle worse, though he'd probably be wincing from pain the next day. He began to suspect that something was off however, they were all staring too intently at him. He kept his usual posture, and his eyes relaxed. A veteran among them might be able to see that he was gripping his hammer with some ferocity however.

The ranger at the front watched him for a moment before lowering himself some and putting a hand on Harper's shoulder. He spoke in a quiet voice as he assured her, "We have a lot of men here with guns. If he's trying to kidnap you, just say so. He can't hurt you, I promise."

A very nervous Harper trembled lightly as she glanced over to Bolvar, then back to the ranger. She spoke very slowly, straining to not spit out the myriad of lies that came to mind, "H-He's... Not... Kid-...-napping... Me..."

"Are you sure? If he is, we can keep you safe," The ranger asked again, not wanting to risk letting a child be taken away by some super mutant that would probably gut her and leave what he didn't eat inside a gore bag to decorate his hut.

"I-I just say stupid stuff, I promise- He's not kidnapping me!" Harper cried out in a panic, mortified at the prospect that there was a firing squad surrounding her new friend. She stepped back from the ranger before hurrying over to Bolvar and clinging to him protectively.

The ranger rose up from his kneel and stared at the two with scrutiny before finally waving a hand, calling the NCR in the camp off. He simply nodded to Bolvar before turning back around to resume guarding the camp from outside threats.

Bolvar's gaze hardened, and he looked down at Harper. He overheard her cries, and looked visibly disgusted. "What in the Fel was that?!" He demanded to know. He moved his hammer off his shoulders, clanging loudly against a scrapped car, and denting the rusted frame into the parched earth.

While the denizens of the camp still looked on in skepticism, they didn't seem as ready to shoot him. Although, many jolted at the hammer smashing against the car as Harper stumbled back some. "I-I'm sorry!" She yelped, "It-It just came out- I didn't mean anything bad- I.." Quickly, she seemed on the verge of tears looking up at him, the guilt of her lie and what could have happened to him consuming her.

He didn't hold back. This was when you brought the hammer down, and drove home the consequences of their action. "Lying like that will get people killed, Harper. These people could have died from your lying. Even you could have been seriously hurt in crossfire, I could be hurt and I'm the one who pulled you out of that forsaken place before you were noticed and carried off, or put on a cross!" He was fuming, and the old paladin that he once was, was shining through once more. He had raised Anduin in Varian's absence, and he had dealt with out of line kids before. Not that the reigning king would ever admit to being a troublesome brat when young. "Now I doubt the things you have told me, and in the future I will have to decide if you are being truthful or not. Is that what you want?!"

"We would have died?" One trooper quietly mumbled to another, who simply shrugged in response as they watched the scene unfold.

"N-No, I... I'm sorry!" Harper was practically sobbing at this point, crying before him in shame and guilt. His declaration of doubt had become something very familiar to her at this point, but she hated it just as much every time, not that she could blame him. "I can't help it- I-I... It just comes out and I lie all the time!" She took a hesitant step towards him in a plea that he would relent, praying this could just end in a hug and about an hour of self-loathing.

Bolvar would kneel down, and hold out his arms. He was offering her mercy, self-loathing wouldn't accomplish anything but create issues further down in her life. "You lie without thinking of it, like any habit Harper, it can be erased in time."

She did not hesitate to wrap her arms around the back of his neck in a hug, pressing herself against his chest as she continued to cry and sputter out apologies, though grateful for the figurative warmth. By that point, most of the NCR had turned away from the two, seeing that there was not likely any threat, and not wanting to awkwardly stare at a crying teen hugging a super mutant.

The former paladin would gently pat the back of Harper, he was warm and comforting, doubly so given his fiery physique. He'd look around, and noted that the NCR troopers were staring away. They did have some decency after all. "My pack is there on the... metal thing behind me. Do you need anything?" She might be getting dehydrated from the crying in all of this heat, and he didn't want her to be nursing a bad headache from all the stimuli.

Harper sniffled as she slowly pulled back from Bolvar before rubbing at her eyes with her arm for a moment. She mumbled out a quiet, "Water, please... Did you get food too?"

Bolvar would reach behind him, grunting from the stretching as he rummaged through the pack at a distance, before deciding to just yank the whole sac to his feet. He would pull out a canteen of a water, then hold open the sack for her to view. "Yes, although I do not know what the majority of this is." He stated matter-of-factly. All this pre-packaged food, and wasteland entrees were beyond his knowledge.

Harper opened the canteen before taking a few, heavy gulps of water, letting out a sigh as she finished and closed the canteen back up, sniffling a bit more and clearing her throat. She peeked inside the sac and tentatively rummaged around inside of it. Her eyes lit up at the sight of a generic bottle of beer, which she quickly pulled out with a quick turn of mood. She quickly tried pulling off the bottlecap with a whine of effort before holding it up to Bolvar, "Can you open this for me, please?"

Bolvar would look down at her, with a questioning glare. "No. That's not to be used unless we run into the dire circumstances that there is no water period, or none that can be purified. I'll not have you developing habits like a Kul-Tiran dockworker!"

"A... A Kul-what?" Harper blinked before shaking her head and the question away before looking at the bottle, then up at Bolvar. "Please? I can handle my alcohol really well!" She swore before trying to pry the bottle open with her bare hands again to no avail.

"I said no, it is not good for you Harper. Regardless of what you have done in the past!"

"Don't they say wine is good for your liver or something?" Harper huffed, still trying and failing to pry off the bottlecap as she wrapped the end of her coat's sleeve around the cap to keep from hurting her hand, "Wine is just diluted beer pretty much."

"No. Wine is made from grapes being fermented to produce an alcoholic beverage, and that sounds like something a Suramarian Aristrocrat would say to save their own floundering ego and health."

Having given up on trying to rip the bottlecap off, Harper pouted and whined up at the charcoal man, desperate for some booze. "Plea-ea-ea-ea-eaaasse!" She begged as she held the bottle up to him with a pursed lip and the best puppy-dog eyes she could manage, "Just a little bit?"

Bolvar's gaze however, held firm. "No. Perhaps when you are older, and more responsible. This isn't negotiable."

Harper slumped down with an embittered look down at the bottle, promising herself that she would find a bottle opener at some point and get a taste of that booze. She reluctantly placed the bottle back into the sac before rummaging around, not recognizing the brands of food. She decided on a box of cereal, Sugar Bombs, which she pulled open and reached inside with disappointment. However, after tossing a few of the hyper-sugary cereal into her mouth, she let out a gasp and stared down at the box with a, "Holy shit! This tastes like garbage!" She hastily gobbled down a handful of the cereal, making it clear that she had lied.

"It must be some addictive garbage then." Bolvar retorted playfully, calling her out on the lie. "Perhaps, you should think the lie, and you will spit the truth?"

"I've never lied in my life," Harper retorted with a mouthful of Sugar Bombs before holding up a handful to Bolvar, "Want shome?" The pieces of cereal looked to be shaped like little atomic bombs. As Harper chewed with an open mouth while she spoke, an observant eye would spot that upon crunching down on one of the pieces of cereal, they would pop a bunch of sugar out, indicating each piece was just a tasty shell filled with sugar.

Bolvar would take it up curiously, before placing it in his mouth. Giving that sugar is a very flammable substance, this proved to be a bad idea. The popping sugar-bomb became an actual firecracker in his mouth. Flames and sparks shot out of his mouth as the man reeled back. "Lets not do that again." Bolvar stated, gagging as he tried to scrape the leftover carbon from his mouth.

"Oh my god!" Harper yelped, scrambling for the canteen as she dropped the cereal box. She had opened it, ready to splash it onto him, but the crackling and fire stopped before she had the chance. She merely held the water up to Bolvar with worry. "Are you okay? I-I didn't think that would happen!"

Bolvar took the canteen, and took a swig. Cleaning his mouth, before swallowing. He'd hand her back. "I'm okay, I'm on fire anyhow. Now we know that it's a bad idea for future reference."

"I, uh... I guess they're called Sugar Bombs for a reason," Harper let out a meek laugh as she reached down and picked the box up off the ground and not hesitating to shovel more into her mouth despite the fiery display she had just witnessed. "Did they atleash tashe good?" She asked.

"For the briefest of moments before it was soot" He replied, settling back down in his chair. "Have you recovered enough to get back on the road, or would you rather wait until nightfall? I had forgotten how brutal the heat can be to those more... fleshy than I."

"Yeah, it'd be better to go out at night, now let's go. I've heard a lot about the place we're going to- Turns out they have a dinosaur, can you believe it?" Harper remarked as she tossed more Sugar Bombs in her mouth, walking towards the exit of the camp despite having said she would wait until night. In addition, she seemed to speak much more quickly, not taking any time to think about what would come out of her mouth. She stopped at the exit of the camp and quickly looked back to Bolvar, hurriedly gesturing him to, "Come on!"

"You did it again Harper, you just lied." He looked at her puzzidly, his gaze furrowing. Why was she acting so energetic all of a sudden? "What's a dinosaur? I've heard of giant reptiles in Kalimdor but, what?"

"Oh they're crazy! I rode on once-" She paused to pop a few more Sugar Bombs before quickly continuing, "That was back when I was dating a wizard- He had fire magic and stuff- I think I told you about him already, right? Man, I feel horrible right now, it's great!"

Freeside, Old Mormon Fort

Leerah approached the antiquated wooden gates of the adobe-brick structure, and gently pushed them open, before slinking in through the small opening. She had heard this place aided the wounded and the weak, perhaps she could figure out her next move whilst she offered her services as a healer. It would be good in the eyes of the light, and a welcome relief from the all too common battle.

The people of the fort gasped and stared at the sight of Leerah, some hovering their hands over holstered pistols or meandering behind cover. Phillip followed her in and quickly took note of the fear surrounding the saberon's presence. He held up his hands to try and calm the people down as he announced, "It is okay! My friend here means no harm! She and I are here to get out of the sun, that is all!"

While not enough to completely ease anyone's nerves, the crusader's assurances and earlier visitation were enough to get people to return to their business. The leader of the group, clad in a labcoat bearing the insignia of the Followers of The Apocalypse on her shoulder and her hair done up in a spiky mohawk, approached the two. "You came in here earlier, Phillip, right?" She asked before looking to Leerah with more calm than many of the others in the camp, "I don't believe I've... Ever seen a mutation like yours before... I'm sure that's something you get a lot."

Leerah would glance over her, she kept her hands near her hips, trying to show that she wasn't a threat. "Oh no no! I'm not a mutation, we're natural." She reassured the leader. "I heard that this was a place of healing, as a healer myself, I was hoping to offer my services while I figure out what to do in this land."

"O-Oh! Really? Well we're always appreciative of any help anyone can offer," The woman said with surprise, figuring the saberon simply meant 'doctor' and that 'healer' was just a synonym she used. She glanced around at the tents and hummed, "... Maybe it'd be best if we only let you near our unconscious patients. Some people might just be uncomfortable around... My name's Julie Farkas, by the way. How much experience do you have in medical work?"

"Plenty, I've healed very serious injuries, and even brought back the recently deceased." She stated matter of factly. Paladins had that sort of power, provided they had the time and focus to read the long litanies to make the light perform such a task. Priests were far better at it than her, but she could heal the patients of the wasteland well enough. "I understand wholeheartedly, some may be faint of heart, and best that I don't disturb them in such a perilous state."

"Good to hear it," Julie said with a nod as she beckoned Leerah and Phillip over to a tent where a man had a heap of bloodied bandages covering his entire torso. "Some people think it's just as simple as stabbing a stimpak and any injury is magically cured," She sighed, "Even if that were true, rates of injury and illness in Freeside are very high. Supplies don't last long. We had just enough Med-X for this poor man here. He was jumped by some thugs earlier, they shot him three times and stabbed him twice. Our better surgeons are busy with other patients, otherwise we would've gotten the bullets out of him by now. I'm certain one has pierced his liver while the other two just missed his lungs. The stab wounds seem to have hit his stomach and possibly his large intestine judging by how deep the second one is there." She pointed over to the wound before gesturing over to the tools and meager supplies available on a nearby table.

Leerah would look down upon the poor man, broken and bloody upon the table. Light help him, and may it scorch the bones of those who did this. "This I can do." She stated, her eyes taking on a soft golden glow, as the entire room seemed to brighten. Like an invisible spotlight had appeared above her head. She would unclasp a heavy tome, bound in leather and metal from her hip. As she read down upon the holy texts, and silently recited the words of the holy light, the book and her hands seemed to take on that same, warm glow that just felt... good to be around. After a determinant amount of reading, she extended her hand back out to the man, and with a slight jerk of his body, the bullets flew out from him. She held her hand, the light shining down upon him, pages flipping by on their own. His wounds reknitted themselves, and soon enough he was laying on the table. With mostly closed scars upon his torso. Nothing some gauze bandages couldn't handle.

Julie looked on, stunned. It took her a minute to compose herself as she carefully peeled at the bandages with a, "What did you..." Before stepping back in shock at the lack of grievous wounds on his body. She looked to Leerah, mouth agape. A quiet metal clank could be heard as Phillip folded his arms with a bitter look on his face beneath his helmet.

"What... H-How did you... How did you do that?!" The woman cried out, utterly flabbergasted.

"The holy light ma'am. It's grace, pure and simple." She clasped her brass and gold bound book upon her belt, and looked back to her. "It helps us because it loves us, even when we're unworthy. It is life itself." She wasn't about to give a sermon here, but she could discuss the theologies with her later if she so desired.

"Would you be able to help some others here? We could really use your help with some other patients that we don't have the supplies to properly tend to," Julie requested as she hurriedly guided Leerah out of the tent and towards another. Phillip grimaced in mild disgust as he followed for a moment, but meandered to another tent to offer his own services there while Leerah was dragged off.

"Gladly, I can discuss the light with you later, after the wounded have been mended." She postured, letting the Follower push her around to the next patient. Nevermind how comical it was given the height disparity.

"Farkas? Wha- Oh my god!" A doctor in the tent yelped in fear. Julie was quick to reassure him as he stumbled back with panicked breaths.

"Hey hey hey, calm down! It's fine!" Julie snapped, gesturing Leerah over to the two patients in the tent while she put her hands on the man's shoulders and explained the situation to him. While one patient's injuries were much more obvious, what with where their left leg having supposed to be being just a stump covered up in reddened bandages. Fresh burns covered much of his lower half and his right arm.

The second patient, however, was unconscious, but had no visible injuries. Rather they were sweating profusely and jittering in their bed with erratic breathing, likely a victim to drug addiction and suffering severe withdrawal symptoms.

The light was powerful, yes, but it could not replace limbs, not without aide stronger than she would be able to provide. She would open up her thickly-bound book, and began to read to the addicted soul. "O' graceful Light, in thine limitless mercy. Steer this soul back to the path of the righteous, for they know not of its grace. Ease the troubles of their body and mind, so that they may be freed from the vices of sin." All the while she read, the book glowed, and a gentle light suffused the drug-addict. Their twitching slowed down to the natural movements expected in sleep, and their breathing slowly calmed as their body settled down.

She would then turn to the burned victim, with a stump for a leg. She would set the book aside on a metal table, the whole thing clanging from the sudden weight. She would begin to motion her hands, holding her breath as she commanded the holy light to fall down upon this person. The tent became much brighter as a beam of the holy substance pulsed from above the patient, bathing him in its golden glow. His burns would slowly heal with each pulse, leaving behind dry, cracked skin that could be healed in time. His stump was not fixed, but the bleeding had come to a stop. Fresh, smooth skin now laying under the bandages.

Her breathing was a bit heavy, but she turned back to Julie. Her face brimming with pride. "If only I could get a priest here, or perhaps even a druid. They could do more than even I."

"You... You've already done more than what we could have," Julie gasped with a shake of her head as she quickly approached the junkie, then to the ex burn victim. She turned to the other doctor, still in a state of shock before she ordered, "Get these two cleaned up and get some more water from the Kings."

She turned back to Leerah and let out a deep breath, "You have no idea how much that helped us. We should have enough supplies left to tend to the others here as they need it- Wait... Where's, uh.. Phillip who came in here with you?" She gently pushed past the saberon and glanced around before spotting the crusader in a tent across the camp. "Oh, there he is- I need to go handle a trade deal with a caravan. Thank you again for your help, ma'am," The woman said with boundless gratitude before hurrying off.

A rare sight to see, the man had removed his helmet so his vision may not be obscured in the delicate process of sewing a wound shut. His stern eyes showed absolute concentration on his task as he threaded the needle with speed and grace, having done so many times in the past during his time in New York. While he was obviously incapable of performing the dazzling feats of magic healing, it was clear he knew what he was doing as a medic as he addressed a gunshot wound his patient had also incurred..

Leerah would take a seat on a nearby chair, allowing her mind and mouth to recuperate after commanding the light in such a way. She glanced over through the tent, and saw Phillip working over a patient. His hands steady, and his gaze unwavering. He was a handsome man, if only he could come around to her faith.

Once finished with his work and ensuring the cared-for wounds were clean, Phillip was sure to place his helmet back over his head as he stood up, letting a doctor tending to another patient in the same tent know that he was finished. He seemed to respond to their thanks and praise with merely a humble nod before stepping out of the tent and spotting Leerah sitting down. He walked across the camp and approached her, glancing behind her to the patients she healed for a brief moment. "... I see you are finished," He noted, trying to remain polite in spite of his disdain for magic.

"That I am, their minds are eased and their wounds dammed. Sadly, I cannot bring them back limbs." She motioned to the stumped person behind her.

"Man was not meant to... At least not through means of magic," He asserted, looking away from the saberon and to the man she had saved, "It is good to help others, to save lives... But to use magic is to worship a force other than God. Whether the intent is good or evil, that sin remains." It was something he had to say at that point, not willing to remain completely silent on the matter.

"Why would your god deny helping others? The light is a beautiful thing, it gives and asks for nothing in return. It forgives the sins of the redeemable, and scorches those who would do wicked and foul deeds upon others. Even those pitiable souls are offered redemption in Helimene's grace. It would be wrong, and dispicable of us to not help our fellow man, even if you consider the light some abhorrency."

"The Lord encourages charity, to aid our fellow man, but we must not be so desperate in our mortal pursuits that we abandon God for a power we believe greater. There are ways to help the injured without turning from His grace. 'Light' magic is simply magic used with good intentions, but to turn to it is to place your faith in a supernatural force other than God. Those who live to serve him and their fellow man, who repent for their sins, and follow His word are gifted with eternal life in His domain. And indeed, the wicked burn before His grace and are cast into Hell where they shall perish."

"If we can agree that magic is energy, then wouldn't your god be mad over you expending energy to help the injured? There are other forces beyond the light, they have existed since the beginning, and the light cannot persist without them. The light cares not for whom the person follows, only that they do good in the name of all. Even the greatest of transgressions can be forgiven if their heart is still pure. Seldom few are ever truly damned, and that is a prison into which they tread willingly. Your god sounds petty, spiteful."

If she were observent, she would spot his eyes squinting through the thin slits of his helmet, indicating how her accusation irked him. Still, he remained civil in tone. "He is neither, and He too can forgive most who sin, no matter their deeds, so long as they accept Him into their heart and repent for what they have done, if they are truly remorseful for their acts. The Lord relies on no other force either, having simply always existed before the conception of reality."

"And yet he balks and seethes at the usage of magic. Surely if he is the one true god, then should he not reach down with his omnipotent hand and prevent it from existing in the first place? Why would an omnipotent being allow for the existence of the fel, and its demonic inhabitants. Why would they permit the insidious shadow, and all of its twisting horrors that drove even the greatest of beings to madness? If this god of your exists, than it is by no means a benevolent one. It is one that enjoys watching you struggle with glee, and inflicting suffering upon those who were doomed to fail from their onset." She paused and took a breath. "The Holy Light even forgave Lothraxion of the Xenedar. In the name of the demonic Burning Legion he did countless things that cannot be forgiven, genocide after genocide. The Light redeemed him none the less." The cat finished.

"God is omnibenevolent," Phillip corrected tersly, "Temptation exists because He was so generous as to give us free will, when He so easily could have made a world of automatons to worship Him. We are free to make our won choices, but that does not mean we are free from consequences, whether they be in this life or the next. In regards to suffering, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope. And when we have passed on, God shall wipe away all tears from our eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away."

"It sounds as the religion of slavers and slaves. To rejoice in your suffering for the sake of some ambivalent god. A benevolent being does not abandon others to eternal damnation. How does one enjoy the abscence of death, sorrow or crying. Without the sorrows, there is nothing to balance the good. An unceasing eternity of 'pleasure' in the lap of such a deity sounds like a hell unto itself." She retorted sharply. "Even the light struggles in a never-ending conflict with the shadow, as life strains with death, and order with disorder."

"And how can you have any solidarity with your light if it is under siege? With the Lord, you know He will always be there, He will never falter, for He is incapable of such. You are secure in His grace, safe from all you have encountered in your time of mortality," Phillip explained, "He has always been and always will be. It is not mere 'pleasure' to be in His domain, but a new sensation altogether- And yet somewhat familiar at the same time. It is to know His presence. It is the primary reason why Hell is a true punishment, because it is the only place entirely devoid of His presence. It is a scary thought to ponder what that must feel like, for even the nonbelievers who walk the Earth know His presence, even if they do not realize it is Him they feel."

"I can see this discussion will go nowhere, Human. I can only hope you abandon such a shallow, restrictive faith in time and open your heart to the light." The saberon quipped, she had no desire of keeping up with it. Such was often the case with dogmatic religion, arguments got circular.

"And I can only hope you abandon such a fragile, godless magic in time and open your heart to the Lord," The crusader said in turn, noting as well how unlikely it was he would convince her of his religion in a single conversation. Perhaps in the future, he would have more luck. "... At the very least, we can agree on doing good by others," He sighed.

"That we can agree on, even if our methods differ. I do not think you a bad person, just misguided." She clarified.

"A mutual sentiment,":Phillip replied with a nod before humming in thought, "We should find a means of contacting others like us who have ended up in this universe. Given what I have seen thus far, it is typically the same batch of people thrown into different universes, with a few newcomers along the way. There is safety and strength in numbers, and not everyone will take to the new environment as well as you have," He suggested, "That and... I would hope to get in contact with some comrades that may have ended up here as well. I hope they are alright..."

Then the world blew up. The end.

Posts : 158
Join date : 2015-09-15

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Post by megaman177 on Sat Nov 16, 2019 8:23 pm

Wilbs Princess Wilbs Wilbo Wilba, Jacobstown

Wilba's porcine ears cocked at the distant sound of a kitchen being criticised. Instinctively holding her 'spear' close to herself, her beady eyes scanned the environs before coming across the waving visage of Marcus. The pig's face twisted up into an expression somewhere between revulsion and curiosity. This particular, unsettlingly green unpig wasn't quite like the ones who had their vacations back in her kingdom.

Regardless, Wilba was relieved that Marcus wasn't inclined to instantly assault her and take her as pulled pork. Innocently shifting her weapon behind her back, Wilba grinned widely at the mutant, cocking her head and waving her free hoof at him. It was customary back at home to show hospitality, even if this particular stranger seemed to have what could have been a colony of miniature potatoes growing out of his technicolour face.

Shyly dipping her chin, Wilba slowly approached Marcus, twirling her bottle-cap necklace effeminately and keeping her makeshift spear behind her back as a precaution (no telling what the green giant could have to offer, tinned vegetables or otherwise). Innocently staring into the super mutant's eyes, the princess politely asked:


Not realising the delicious implications of what she had said until she said it, Wilba's eyes suddenly bulged with a hungry intensity at Marcus' face, without her even noticing the fact she had began drooling. The pig hadn't had the opportunity to eat anything, between being trapped in her mother's castle for losing the Crown and suddenly finding herself in a foreign cave.

Concealed behind her back, Wilba's hoof tightened around her spear. Too hungry to possibly entertain any rationale, she was overcome with an unhealthy interest in the potential fleshy vegetables lurking underneath Marcus' skin.

Obviously, this probably wasn't outwardly apparent, so all that was really visible was Wilba glaring with passionate intensity into Marcus' face while beginning to foam at the mouth and convulse slightly.


A tiny thin metal wire began peeking out of the large bow on Wilba's chest (don't think too hard about that), slowly worming its way up, until two small eyes became apparent. Writhing up onto Wilba's puffy left shoulder, the wire coiled into the distinctive shape of a paperclip, not after blinking and looking about in a dazed manner.

Losing its dizziness, the eyed paperclip glanced between Marcus and Wilba casually, before settling its eyes onto the drooling Wilba (who seemed to be far too comatose by this point to notice what had happened) with a wry look. He winked at Marcus chummily before staring with a smug knowing at the inattentive pig, before politely asking to her:

"It looks like you're trying to eat a super mutant. Would you like some help?"

Yes. Neither of Marcus' two new-fangled guests were doing much to generate a solid first impression.

Posts : 42
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Post by AestheticMonkey on Wed Nov 20, 2019 5:01 pm

A collab between a monkey, a letter and some guy

The Strip

"Hello there!" Joker waved his hands wildly, still trying to get the attention of Jevil, mildly irritated by the monster's lack of response, "Anyone home in there?"

Jevil was over by the Terminal, and within the blink of an eye, was over beside Joker. Comically leaving behind a faint image of himself, and a trail of garbage and dust floating in the wind behind him. Somehow, in that time, he had changed back to his original color clothing. "Uuweee hee hee! Another jester much like me!"

"Jester?! Just because I'm a clown doesn't make me a jester!" The Joker scoffed, but eased himself, "But yes, we're both putting smiles on people's faces, now aren't we?"

"Of course! But some people don't want others to play, play! So they build prisons around them, and then we're the only free free ones left!" The devil-clown added. Spinning around in a circle, displaying his snaggletoothed grin.

"Ugh, tell me about it," the clown prince agreed, "If I had to count out how many times they tossed me in some cell... well, I'd certainly run out of fingers and toes to count on! That's why I think I'm going to like the cut of this place's gib, and you should, too! A lot less laws... and a lot less of those pesky prisons."

"Ahoo hee hee! Indeed indeed, the fine fellows over there just loved my games!" He pointed over to the Ultra-Luxe. "If a place as stuck stuck up as that enjoys them, then we should let everyone here play them!" Jevil pipped.

"Oh-ho-ho, I agree," the Joker smiled, flipping out his map, "In fact, I'm looking for some... good friends to have some fun with. Maybe you and I could go 'round them up, and have ourselves a get-together, eh? Throw a big party for the whole Strip?"

"A chaos chaos, let it rein! A more fun thing you'll never find!" Jevil nodded his head vigorously in agreement. So hard that his spring-loaded head popped off for a moment. His head continuing to bounce before settling back down in his usual no-neck appearance.

"Wonderful!" Joker held out his arms in joy, before letting out a cackle of delight, "Just wonderful! Now, I say we have a meeting to arrange with some-" he looked back to the sheet, "Some Kings, a bunch of people named Van Graff, and some Fiends."

"Sounds a good good to me! What will I need to do to help start this party?" Jevil asked, tip-toeing on his elf shoes to get a better view of the map

"In a place like this, people want one thing," Joker gestured about, "Cash. Money. Moolah! We need as much money as we can get our hands on. I'd say... take a roll around all these fine establishments and snatch up as much as you can, legally or the fun way."

"Oh ho ho! Of course, I'll be sure to have a fun fun either way!" Jevil clapped his hands together. He stated, before strolling off to the seedy and licentious casino known as the Gommorah. A fitting name for a den of degeneracy. Whereupon he would throw open the doors, and boisterously stroll into the casino. He'd march right up to the counter, of which he was far too short to look over. "Greetings!" He called to the teller, though it was hard to make out where the voice was comign from if they had missed his entry.

The teller leaned over the counter to look down at him with a bemused expression on her face. "Uh... Hi?" She looked over to the Omerta thug who guarded the entrance to the casino. While he was just as put off by the jester barging in, caps were caps and he had a job to do. "Hey, no one but Omertas are allowed to carry in the Gomorrah! Check your weapons with me," He ordered, standing behind the short Jevil.

Jevil would open his coat flaps, and then proceeded to bouce in so rapid a fashion that his shoes were leaving black scuff marks on the tiled floor. "Haven't got a thing!" He replied, which was true. His toys weren't carried on him, he stated casually, before rotating his entire head around one-hundred and eighty degrees to meet the thug's glare. He'd turn back to the teller, before tossing a sack filled with 1,000 caps to the teller. He'd plucked it off the white-glove member he slaughtered. "I'd like half of this converted to chips please!" He stated, before his head snapped back to its original position

"Oh, alright," The teller blinked with a slight grimace as she peeked into the sack and quickly started seperating the caps inside into two seperate piles with experienced speed, "How much ya got in here?"

"About a thousand, or so I counted! That means 500 go to chips!" Jevil pipped, his hand just barely reaching up to the counter.

In record time, she had the caps split and Jevil's chips counted. She slid one pile back into his sack and handed it down to him before doing the same with his chips, "Good luck, big man," She encouraged, throwing a little flattery in despite his short stature. Ego boosts mean more likely to risk it all.

Jevil cackled lightly as he took both pouches of currency, before simply vanishing, he'd reappear shortly thereafter in the casino near the slot machines. Any walking nearby might feel a sudden gust of wind, as if something had just blown past there in some great hurry. Jevil would jump up onto a stool infront of the slots, and proceed to shove every single chip that he possibly could into the slot machine. Which was around 75 chips, before he physically could not fit any more into the machine. He'd crank the wheel with gusto, the slots seemingly spinning for an abnormal amount of time, before they landed on a triple orange. Multiplying his bet by one hundred. He now had 7,500 chips form that one spin! Needless to say, the machine went kind of haywire with the lights and noise.

"Hey, hey, look at you man!" An Omerta celebrated, giving Jevil a hearty pat on the back as two scantily clad women came by with two bottles of wine and a suit of reinforced combat armor, "First spin and you got all that? You must be the luckiest guy in the Strip! Here's an extra reward for the big winner, eh? Hey, how'sabout you try yourself at roulette? Lucky guy like you, I bet you'll be walkin' outta here with mountains of chips doin' roulette!"

"Why great great thanks! But I'm afraid this is too big for little little me!" Jevil stated, pointing to the combat armor that was made for regular-sized and proportioned humanoids. He did take the wine, and seemed rather happy about it. Stuffing it behind his cape, where it seemed to vanish from thin air. He'd hop off the stool, and make his way over to the roulette tables. Where he would once try his incredible luck once again.

In yet another stroke of incredible luck, Jevil betted perfectly, scoring a huge increase on the reward of chips. He had likely broken the floor limit entirely.

Immediately, the Gomorrah Floor Manager would appear on the scene after spotting Jevil's incredibly lucky winnings. "Ok, that's that. No more games for you," He spat with folded arms, "Go rob the Tops. You're done here."

"Aw, but I was having such a fun fun! You sound like such a soil-sport!" He stated, jumping up and patting the manager's cheeks. He'd waddle up to the bank counter, having to physically heft his winnings up onto the desk. "I'm cashing out!"

"Oh my god..." They'd gasp, gawking down at all the chips in shock before quickly exchanging them for caps while Omertas around the casino floor glared in anger.

Jevil would take the earnings, stuffing them behind his back where they once again seemed to disappear out of sight. He would turn back to the Omertas, chuckling before taking a bow. The strip was a little darker as the evening went on, up next was the Ultra Luxe. The place he had gotten chased out of. He would begin to stroll up the steps, a smug grin on his face.

He would then throw open the doors of the Ultra-Luxe and step into the lobby. Fully expecting a poor reception.


The clown prince soon departed for Freeside, hoping to quickly find the first of his new acquaintances based on his rudimentary map. Strolling nonchalantly down the slums, he put his hands on his hips and stopped as he approached the building he desired. A large neon sign of a guitar held the name of the group he wished to speak with. "You'd think people called the Kings would have a less tacky sign," Joker scoffed as he took it upon himself to enter the building.

Immediately upon his entry, the Joker would be met with a greaser-esque fellow leaning against a wall, wearing a black, unbuttoned coast over a black-and-white striped collared shirt. "What do we have here?" He mused in what almost sounded like a poor impression of Elvis Presley, "Another petitioner for the King?" His eyes looked the clown up and down with a smirk on his face.

"Well, I guess you could say that," the Joker mused, "I did want an audience with your kingly king." In the back of his mind, he was somewhat amused by the fact they were that kind of king instead of the ones he was expecting. "...Wait, the King? Aren't you all supposed to be kings? Or is he just more kingly?"

"You believe this asshole, man?" Pacer looked over to one of his fellow Kings with a bit of a laugh as he spoke before explaining the deal to the Joker, "In Freeside, the Kings rule. And the King rules the Kings. Got it?"

"Right, right..." Joker nodded along as he glanced between the Kings, "I was looking to... have a word or a few with the King, then. I have a business opportunity for him."

"Oh really now? Anything's possible, I suppose. How much is it worth to you to meet the big man?" Pacer questioned, the look on his face and the tone of his voice helping to clarify he wanted the clown prince to cough up some caps before he would let him see the King.

Joker stuffed his hand into his back pocket for a moment, before pulling out a wad of cash. If one were to examine the money, they would find that the presidents had all been replaced with different images of the Joker's visage himself, with much of the text on the bills also being modified. "I only have some spare change on me at the moment," the clown smiled, "If that will do."

"The hell do I look like to you? I wouldn't take that paper garbage even if I was a beggar. Come back when you got some caps," Pacer scoffed with a shake of his head as he folded his arms. He hadn't even given the bills a second look to discern whether or not they were real.

"Oh, now come," Joker shook his head, "You wouldn't kick a poor penniless- er, capless clown back out on the streets, now would you? That wouldn't be right!"

"The King's a busy man with valuable time. Not payin' up is like spittin' right in his face. Now that isn't right," Pacer shot back with a shake of his head, "Come back when you got the caps. I'm sure you could get a few thrown your way doin'... Eh... Clown things."

The clown grinned at Pacer and agreed, "Well, if you do insist, I guess I'll be making my way down to the carnival then," he poked a finger against Pacer's chest with a burst of laughter, "I'll be back in a jiffy, though! Don't you worry!" And with that, Joker turned away and left the Kings School.

"Hmm... where to get a few... caps," the clown thought to himself, questioning why bottle caps would be made into currency as he strolled along slowly.


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Post by SpongeBobRocks23 on Wed Nov 20, 2019 5:24 pm

Fortunately for red woman in red, thanks to this three eyed, sand irritated brute, the large insect that was previously a huge threat to her survival was now out of her hair.

UNfortunately, thanks to the sheer amount of almost ungodly foreboding energy coming from this same brute, she was unable to move for the longest time. Even as she stood, staring at the being as it rendered the life of this "insect" as it was called by him to ashes as he crushed it beneath his own feet, an abnormal amount of fear--at least abnormal from her perspective, though she had no idea what was abnormal or not as she hadn't felt this much fear in one place before--took over her body, not used to it by any means to the point where she was FORCED not to move from the spot she was at. She was literally spooked solid.

A single drop of the eye liquid from before was released from her left eyeball, falling onto the ground, quickly evaporating due to the heat of the flames surrounding her.


Whatever this thing was, it was terrifying.

Untitled Goose
Meanwhile from the bushes not too far from the path to the Jacobstown, the Untitled Goose gazed at the spectacle seen before them. Wherever it was, it was far away from the village. Of course, this didn't stop it from plotting it's devious plans to terrorize those in its vicinity. It took out its To-Do List, several items already marked off.

Dimensional Clash X [IC] - Page 2 03-BF1-F12-31-F0-4937-97-F7-CDE88-AE1-FC19uploading pictures

Hmm. This was...not what it had planned at all.

With this realization in mind, it pulled out a ballpoint pen from its feathers, proceeding to make the necessary edits to his list.

Dimensional Clash X [IC] - Page 2 D2-A3-BA32-9-E40-46-B0-80-BA-D201-A66200-C5

Perfect. It was foolproof. It was hilarious! Hijinks of great parameters would ensue! It was a beautifully concocted plan. Now all that was left was for the Goose to execute. It put its To-Do List and Pen up, grabbing the stick with it's mouth and stepping out of the bushes, waddling towards Culitt. The Goose was careful not to be too close to the armored being, as doing so would make it viable the feathered bird to become Thanksgiving Dinner. It took a sharp inhale, and then…


...it immited a honk. A honk loud enough that it would hopefully catch the brute's attention.

((RECOMMENDED LISTENING: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wwrgopb2CjQ&feature=youtu.be))
It was a wonderful evening in the graveyard. Bendy had the entire picnic to himself, an entire collection of assorted goods spread out onto the blanket. Deviled Eggs, Devil’s Food Chocolate Cake, some Deviled Ham Sandwiches...

“And of course, ‘tah top it all off, a sparklin’ bottle of Charles Smith Velvet Devil Merlot!” beamed the cartoon demon, giving a wink to the camera as he picked the bottle up and gestured towards the label shown on the front, as of posing for an advertisement. (which he clearly is but shoooosh shoooooooooosh) “Yessiree, a delightfully devilish banquet for a devil such as li’l ol me!” exclaimed the devil. Tempted to dig right in, Bendy grabbed a black and white bib, appropriately captioned with the phrase “Eatin Time!” on its front, as well as a knife and fork from seemingly nowhere. “Oh, silly me! How could I forget!” Bendy put down his fork and knife, proceeding to reach into his Picnic Basket to find the last element to complete his picnic. Out from his wooden bag he retrieved an appropriately sized can of Joey Drew Studios Branded Bacon Soup™! “It’s not a picnic without a can of Bacon Soup!” chirped Bendy, holding up the can in one hand while also taking out a can-opener with the other.

For a moment, however, Bendy would look up, finding himself in a different deceased preservation area. The Goodsprings Cemetery, to be exact. However, it was only for a moment that Bendy would find this an odd occurrence, as he simply shrugged it off. “Weird scene transition, but OK.” he muttered to himself. Picnic still intact after the dimension crossing, Bendy would proceed to open his can of bacon soup, the pungent and savory aroma emitting from the cylinder container as he opened it. He then put the can opener back in the basket, picking up his fork and spoon yet again. “Welp, time to dig in!”

As Bendy would eat his devil’s dinner, a sweaty Woodman, still equipped with his brown and green sweatband upon his oily head, would come jogging past the burial site, not at all paying attention to the demon. As Bendy would eat, however, he would take notice of the robot master, finding him stupid enough to pull off some mischief on.

“Hmm...get a load-a log-o over there.” he remarked to himself. An idea would slowly form in Bendy’s brain, causing him to smile from ear to ear.

“*huff puff* holy shit *huff puff* i am not used to this much walking around holy fuck *huff puff*” breathed Woodman. The MS Paint Robot has been walking for quite a while now, and he was starting to get exhausted...though that may be in part of him being slightly overweight but let’s not acknowledge that right now. Woodman began to slow down, resting near a barren tree as he breathed heavily. “ok time out i need a drink or something fuck” exclaimed the Robot Master.

Luck would quickly find its footing, however, as not too far away was a stand, manned by a short man, ten gallon cowboy hat atop his head and mustache on his face. He had on a plaid shirt, blue jeans, and was not at all a shifty demon trying to trick him into a quick buck, nooooo, nuh uh, no, don’t be a fucking dumbass, noooooo. That’s ridiculous. This was just a friendly salesperson trying to sell drinks to wouldbe joggers. Woodman would spot this man, happy to see such a conveniently placed area of business present right when he needed a cold one to cool him off. “nice just what i was lookin for” stated Woodman.

He walked up to the stand, the man shouting out to no one as he would make his approach. “Carbonated Beverages! Carbonated Beverages, only one nickel a pop!” yelled out the salesman in a western accent.  “shit they’re cheap too? nice” said Woodman to himself. Woodman put exactly one nickel atop the gentlemen’s table, the charming character quickly taking it and exchanging the currency for a square circle-ish bottle of liquid, a taped on label with the phrase “Carbonated Beverage” stuck on it. “nice” spoke Woodman, opening up the bottle and taking a swig of the drink.

“huh. i mean this doesnt really taste like its carbonated more like i—“

Dimensional Clash X [IC] - Page 2 1153015-F-2-CDD-45-DB-A7-C0-00-F951472-F85


The gentleman burst out laughing, Woodman in tears over this cruel prank he’s been roped into. He wrapped the label off and saw that it wasn’t a carbonated drink at all, but actually Ghost Pepper Hot Sauce! Woodman dropped the sauce, fire practically spewing out of his maw and spewing flames everywhere. The gentleman pulled of his disguise to reveal he was actually Bendy, the Dancing Demon! What a shocking revelation! O-Or at least for Woodman it was we totally knew it was bendy and if you didn’t what the fuck is wrong with you

“See ya, Loggy!” exclaimed the demon, running off to bring about more mischief. “fuck no get your ass back over here so I can kick it” yelled back Woodman, going after the cartoon devil as fire continued to come out of his mouth.

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Join date : 2018-07-18

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Dimensional Clash X [IC] - Page 2 Empty Re: Dimensional Clash X [IC]

Post by AestheticMonkey on Wed Nov 20, 2019 6:23 pm

A collab between Aeth and Zandoo


Minnie breathed silently as she flitted through the night, her nostrils flared, she could smell Legion scum. Raiders, organized, but raiders. Her piercing yellow eyes seemed to glow from the amount of light they were collecting and reflecting. She was swaddled in an array of clothing salvaged from legionaries and other raiders, along with a fair amount of wastelander clothing and some NCR garb she took from the occasional poor soul she found. The resulting amalgam managed to cover the more garishly colored sections of her, while leaving the fringes of her tail open for her barbs. She'd make her way from her perch near Camp Guardian, closer to the legionaries that were moving closer to Bitter-Springs. Likely looking for refugees, or understaffed patrols. She'd get closer, enough to hear any chatter amongst them, but distant enough to keep herself hidden.

It looked to be nothing more than a prime legionary accompanied by three recruits. This may very well have been the recruits' first real mission in enemy territory. "Remember, we capture any profligates if they are alone, perhaps only two. Any more, and we risk them alerting others," The Prime reminded, "Dying because you were stupid does not mean you die with glory, even if it is in battle." The recruits acknowledged his order and wisdom with respect as they slowly patrolled, keeping their eyes out in all directions but up.

She'd peer out from her perch at the legionaires, her ears perked in their direction. A group of recruits, their first and last mission. They were wary, further confirming her notions of them being new. She'd flit from one perch to another, stretching her membranes wide as she landed with a soft clatter of pebbles on another overhand. Her color aided her in this position, the ruddy color of her back melding very well with the sandstone of the Mojave. This area was a bit too flat for her liking, if she were to strike, she'd have to really book it to reach cover. While she could 'fly' up to the pillars, they didnt offer protection from gunshots, and so she bided her time. Waiting for them to reach rockier and uneven terrain. The prime would be going first, with him down, the recruits would be easy pickings for her.

"Just over here," The Prime pointed to some conveniently rocky and uneven terrain, "Unless one of you pokes your head up, we shouldn't be seen from there. It's a good place to keep watch over the area. You three make it camp ready while I stay here and keep watch." With the same hyper-Roman fanfare she would have heard a hundred times by now, the recruits marched over to the spot indicated by their Prime, who would make sure they were just out of sight before pulling a small inhaler out from inside his armor. He'd take a modest inhale of the jet with a satisfied groan, giving their direction another quick glance to make sure they weren't looking before sighing with a smug grin.

That was where the danger lied, splitting up in enemy territory was a bad idea. Even a buddy might get the chance to make some noise if there was an unseen asilant. Seeing a chance, Minnie would push off from her perch, gliding down to the field where she landed quietly. Only some loose dirt kicking up in the wind as she skulked close to the ground. Keeping deathly silent, she'd move around the cover of the rock to spot the Prime. She debated on wether she should kill him right away, or wound him. Deciding that the latter would incite further panic, she began to force her venom ducts to function. Her saliva taking on a distinctive yellow tinge as some of it drooled out of her mouth, not elegant, but it worked. Hopefully he was still looking away from her, otherwise she'd just wait. Careful not to move too much too quickly. Humans were good at spotting movement, if anything.

"Woooh, shit," The hedonistic Prime laughed quietly to himself after taking another hit of the jet. He would never be able to get away with something like this on some other mission, but three dumb recruits who barely knew their Caesar from their Caesar? (One was almost beaten to death for mispronunciation). He hoped he would get plenty more opportunities to take recruits on patrols. He looked down to the inhaler and considered a full dose, but decided against it. The last thing he needed was to get snitched on by a recruit, and even they would be able to tell he was high if he went all the way.

Looking away, and he had exposed calves. How naive, she woud slowly move out from her cover with her muscles coiled tightly. Then, in a flash she would dart forward on all fours with her mouth open wide. She would clamp down on his exposed leg, biting deep into the muscle, she shook her head as she did so, ripping open the wound as she spit and forced the venom from her mouth into the wound. The neurotoxin would begin to work before too long after that. She would then sprint away with a quickness after wounding him, disappearing into the darkness of the Mojave wasteland. Leaving him kneeling, standing or writhing in the dirt from pain. She was still watching the scene, but at a further distance. No doubt the recruits would come running.

The Prime let out a scream, falling to the ground and whipping out a pistol, firing it wildly at the dirt before realizing whatever had attacked him was gone. He would quickly drop the gun and clutch his leg, shouting for the recruits who were already on their way. "FUCK! GET IT! IT'S SOMEWHERE AROUND HERE!" He yelled.

"W-What happened, sir!? What attacked you?" One of the recruits cried out, bending down to provide first aid before being shooed away by his superior.

"I'll take care of it myself! Just fucking kill it!" The Prime seethed in pain and fury, shakily trying to tend to himself while the recruits scrambled to find whatever creature had injured their commander, splitting up and drawing their machetes to find it. They were jittery, looking all around themselves as their quickly paced about the area. While they were horrendously afraid at their first real threat (At least, a threat that was outside the Legion), they were also eager to prove themselves and claim the glory of slaying the creature who had injured their Prime.

Now they were using machetes and splitting up to attempt to find her, such poor tactics. All they did was just leave more blind spots for her to abuse. It was almost unsportsmanlike for her to slay all of them, and so she decided. She'd slay one, leave one a locked-up mess for the NCR or others to sumble upon, and let one run back to the Legion to further sow terror and lower morale. She was likely known already, not all the bodies she left behind were there when she came back. She would slowly slink through the rocks towards a recruit heading to the north of the prime. She'd slowly slink and crawl, before springing out from atop a rock. Smacking her tail into the recruit with the barbs erected, before scrambling to another hiding place.

"BWAH-GAHAAAA!" The recruit screamed in terror and then pain as he was knocked to the ground. He barely had a chance to swing his machete, instead haphazardly throwing it. He wailed in pain as the other to recruits rushed over in shock, "IT HURTS! OH FUCK- SHITASS FUCK!"

"Shut the fuck up over there! Do you want the entire fucking... NCR to... hear you!?" The Prime shouted, though not able to see his men. He would notice that his last few words were a bit hard to shove out as his jaw... Ached? Overall it became hard to move. He gritted his teeth, scowling as he tried to focus on tending to his greviously-injured leg.

"Sh-Shit, what do we do?!" One of the recruits whined in fear.

The other looked down to their friend. He didn't seem to be injured too bad, just impaled by some quills it looked like. He would try to pull them out, but he didn't want to leave himself exposed. "Okay... Okay, you and me, we'll put our backs together. This thing can't sneak up on us then, right?" After an attempt from the other recruit to literally press their back against his, he harshly clarified, "Not fucking literally- Just watch my back. Come on." He would take the lead, wandering away from the fallen recruit in the direction it looked he fell away from with his machete drawn.

Now, to split the two up so she could take her pickings. Minnie would slink around, consciously forcing her irises to dilate despite the slight pain that followed. With her eyes sufficiently reflective, she began to bristle her hair and quills before quickly scrambling up a rock near the group of legionaires. Once there, she would screech into the face of the nearest recruit, flinging her tail in his direction. Several of the quills dislodged, most of them missing as the goal was to scare them pantless. A few found their mark though, thudding into their armor and stinging the muscle below. The dosage wasn't enough to kill them, but they wouldn't be in fighting condition afterwards either.

Just as she (And the recruit) screeched and he fell, he would desperately swing his machete and horribly miss while his buddy watching his back turned around with a shout, not hesitating as he slashed his machete at whatever was behind him. He would kill this beast even if it killed him!- Wait...

"You're going to scream just like him! Open mouth, open heart! Blood and noise piercing your skull!" She shouted out, grinning madly as thick, yellow saliva dripped visibly from her mouth of sharp teeth, stained a disgusting red-brown from the blood of their prime. She would jump down at the legionaire on the ground, smashing her hand into his head, before swiftly biting his hand. Ripping two fingers off of his hand that were coiled around the machete. She'd turn back to him, before she visibly crunched down and ate them. Bone and all, just to see his reaction to it. A good amount of her venom got into the recruit as well, but that was just to make sure he was kept down. Hopefully the last recruit would go scamper off, towards Legion territory.

All that was left was the most easily frightened of the three. He was frozen in fear for a brief moment, unsure if being killed by this beast or facing who-knows-what kind of punishment for failure back in the Legion would be worse. He quickly got ahold of himself, however, and ran, screaming and crying. "F-FUCKING COWARD!" The recruit whose fingers had been eaten off screamed after letting out a loud series of pained wails.

They were making alot of noise, better get out of here quickly before too much attention was gained. She didn't like talking to people that much, most just stared, some threw rocks at her. She'd turn her head back to the screaming recruit, before drawing a claw down his unharmed arm. Once she had a decent sized wound that wouldn't require stiching, she would run her tongue up along it. Upping the dosage of her venom, the recruit wouldn't be running anywhere soon, but he wouldn't die. She'd step off from him with a wicked smile, before she slinked over to the undoubtedly paralyzed prime.

She didn't say any words, or give any fancy speeches. Rather, she just simply held out her claws, and pressed them into his throat. Puncturing multiple vessels, and feeling for a certain bone. One her claws tapped around it, the unconnected bone was easily torn out, along with the flesh around it. Before she left for good, she would also claim one of his ears. Same with the recruit that she had barbed. Then, she was gone just as quickly as she appeared. Giving one last loud screech to help anyone nearby who might be trying to find them.

Indeed, a small part of NCR would arrive on the scene soon after she was gone. They inspected the area for a moment before ascertaining that whatever had killed or downed the legionaries was gone. They would take the bodies, both alive and dead. While they didn't know who or what had been attackng intrusive legionaires as of late, they all seemed grateful for whatever boogeyman was harassing Caesar.

Minnie arrived back at her 'nest' as she called it, set up in the ruins of the old Camp Guardian. There, in a more sheltered location, she had built a hidden home that resembled just some rocks and sheet metal from a distance. She would skewer her two new ears on a sharpened piece of rebar to dry out, so they could be added to the 'collection' that she wore when she went after larger patrols. She'd crawl under the low door, before emerging in her shady abode. Scavneged canvas was nailed and tied to the walls, helping keep some heat in during the night and hot air out. Blankets were scattered about and curled around to form a 'bed' in one corner. The rest of the thing was a mixture of makeshift furniture and just pure clutter. A few books were stacked on a rock serving as a table, and a veritable pile of Legion helmets and other artifacts were stacked in a corner. She liked to use them to make 'scaremen', both as warnings, and practice for when she trained. With a successful hunt under her belt, she would loosen her clothing slightly before settling down in her blanket pile for a quick nap. Her ears were still held high for the slightest disturbance of her routine.

She would wake up some time later in the early morning. She grumbled, as a most nocturnal being she disliked the bright sunshine of the Mojave. She'd reach out for her trusty vault canteen, only to pick up and shake an empty canister. Of course she forgot to fill it up last night. Quickly throwing on some lighter, but still obscuring clothing, she would waltz out of her shelter and start to make her way down to the lakeside. It was a short trek, and so she didn't bother to try and cover up her tail or barbs. Careful not to leave too many prints, she'd make her way down to the clean water of the lakeside, and begin to drink. Filling up her canteen as she did so. She of course, kept an ear out for any signs of footsteps or other unusual sounds. After filling up her canteen and her belly, she would begin to take a short trip around the area. Looking out for any signs of activity that would need her attention. She felt safe in doing so, patrols were rarely out at this hour, and any soldiers on the rare morning patrol were groggy and poor-sighted at being woken up so early, or being up so late. Wether they be Legion or NCR.

It was around then that a small patrol was conveniently heading in that very direction. Two troopers accompanied by a ranger with their rifles at guard marched in Camp Guardian's direction. While they had lost the area to an 'infestation', they had further reason to arrive based on information recieved from a few scouts. Nothing was too concrete, but the lead was worth checking out given they may have the chance to meet whoever was striking at the Legion.

"If they've holed up in Guardian, chances are we don't gotta worry much about whatever took it over before. Stay on your guard though. Just 'cause they're hunting Legion doesn't mean we know for sure if they're on our side," The ranger among them stated as they made their way up to the camp.

Minnie saw the patrol, and immeadeatly shrinked back to a more hidden position. She'd watch them through heavily lidded eyes, her irises little more than black slats in her eyes. She wasn't made for so much bright light, or so she thought. She'd silently stalk them from behind as they made their way to her campsite. She didn't reveal herself, or try anything fancy, she just watched. Listening in on their conversation. Looking back, they'd see nothing but the occasional flicker of a rock as the air simmered in front of it.

It would be a few moments before one of the troopers piped up with a short laugh, "H-Hey, look at this!" He pointed to a piece of rebar where Minnie had impaled her severed legionary ears. As the other two approached, he remarked, "Think they heard about the competition?"

"Maybe so..." The ranger hummed, smiling a bit, although less interested in the ears as he meandered about. He would spot a piece of sheet metal raised above the ground, forming a small opening. He squatted down and ran a finger across the ground, trailing dirt over the crawling path Minnie took to get into her home. "... It's a hideout..." He muttered, attracting one of the troopers over who knelt down to see what their superior was mumbling about, "Take a look at this. This hole here. Someone's been crawling under through this."

"Should I check it out?" The trooper asked curiously.

"Hell no. You crawl in and they could be waiting with a gun and shoot you right in the head. Friendly or not, you'd spook them at best," The ranger scoffed before standing up, examining the sheet metal for a moment before knocking on it, "Anyone home?" He would quickly step to the side, ushering the trooper to do the same just in case whoever was inside would shoot where the knock came from. There would, of course, be no shooting.

There was no shooting, and no noise came from inside. The owner of the shelter was of course, not home. Rather, she was watching from a safe distance and position. Hopefully they wouldn't rifle through her stuff too much, she didn't own that much to begin with after all. They didn't seem to think bad of her, but they were carrying arms. Better to be safe than sorry she figured. She'd move a bit closer to hear their talk a bit clearer, but wouldn't progress beyond that.

"Hm, hate to do it but... You, come over here and watch here," The ranger called over to the trooper who had just finished gawking at the ears and whatnot before turning to the more focused of the two, "Help me pull this off. If there's someone inside about to throw a grenade at us or something, shoot 'em, but don't be trigger happy, got it?"

With that, the two NCR would pull at the piece of sheet metal. After some straining and grunting, it would finally pop off with a metallic twang. The trooper on guard took in a sharp breath and pointed their rifle all around the revealed home of Minnie, only to find nobody there. He would lower his rifle and peek inside while the other two set the piece of metal down, taking in the sight of the place with a curious eye. "It's... Cozy, I guess," He remarked.

Inside was her humble abode, or about as humble as you could get. In one corner, closest to the rocks and other sheltering elements was a still warm mass of blankets with the indentation of a person on them, along with a tangled mass of still-warm clothing made from legionary scraps, civilian clothes and even some NCR fabric. It would explain the missing patches they would find on the occasional trooper that was slain in the field or on patrol and couldn't be immedeatly retrieved. Hanging above it and to the left was what looked to be a ring of tanned ears, the count was staggering. It was more than fifty at the least, all of them looped and threaded to form some necklace, or grim charm. In the corner there was a pile of helmets and other identifiable armor pieces. Some scattered food and cans lay strewn in one corner, most were preserved, though there was the smell of cooked meat, mole-rat judging from it, and a few stained kebab-sticks. Some books were laid about, most about trapping and the Mojave wildlife, some however were books about pre-war history, the NCR itself, miscleanious mathematics and science, and even a Legionary propaganda pamphlet. Laid open on a rock was a notebook and a slim piece of charcoal. The book was opened to a page near the midway section, and depicted three recruits standing around a Prime, scratching their heads while their superior yelled profanities. Flipping through the sketchbook might reveal some other things.

The ranger would wordlessly gesture to the two troopers. Both would remain on guard while he sniffed for traps. Once given the all-clear, one trooper would be called inside to help investigate. While the ranger poked through the clothing and blankets for perhaps anything hidden, the trooper was quickly drawn to the sketchbook with a brief wheeze at the depiction of the Legionaries before curiously flipping through the pages. The trooper outside would scan  the nearby area, but remained at the entrance to Minnie's home.

Minnie herself had gotten closer, she was now on their side of the divide. Clutching and holding onto the cliff-side with her claws as she shimmied and crawled over to a location where she could crawl and be above them. Meanwile, the ranger would find little that was hidden. He found find a dirty, worn stuffed bear. It was clearly getting on in years, and likely had some sentimental value that wasn't known of. He'd also find a bound planner, that was severely outdated. Still, she was using it as a form of log-book. Writing down important observations, kills and other stuff. She had written down close calls with the NCR, legion kills, and other useful info. Meanwhile, the chortling trooper would find she had a varied sketchbook. There were accurate and good depicitions of nearby wildlife, including a deathclaw and some strange lakelurk. There was also a picture of her in NCR ranger gear. She didn't look fully human, but she looked brimming with joy in the picture. Another showed her hugging Captain Giles at Bitter-Springs as she looked over in disarray at a large gathering of fighting children. There was also a sketch of some NCR trooper taking a dip in the lake, shirtless. It was rather detailed compared to some of the other sketches in the book.

"Oh geez," The trooper gawked at the drawing for a moment before quickly flipping back to the one depicting Minnie in ranger attire as he approached the actual ranger present. "Sir, I found this," He spoke up, "There's a few sketches in there of that same mutant. Considering those things we found stuck in some of the legionaries that've been attacked, I think this may be our guy- Or... Girl..."

"Wait, what?" The ranger stood up and turned around to take a look at the sketchbook.

"Yeah some of this seems a bit girly, I guess. And I think she has boo-"

"I don't care if they're a girl, dammit," The ranger tersely snapped before taking the sketchbook and peering inside, slowly flipping through the pages, "But you're right... Them being some kind of mutant would make sense. Probably unique since the guys haven't found that exact same venom anywhere else, but they were pretty sure it wasn't synthesized."

"So... Then what do we do now?"

"Hm... Well it- She can obviously read and draw. So this isn't just some wild animal hunting legionaries... Given her apparent method of hunting, we can't just sit in here and wait for her to come home, even if we were to put the 'door' back on," The ranger asserted as he stepped outside with the trooper close behind.

"Why not? How else are we gonna find her?"

"... Because she's already here," The ranger declared. While he hadn't seen her before, he gave his left and right a brief glance before looking up, confident that the occupant of the hideout had been stalking them this entire time from somewhere.

They were right, she was right above the ledge, her ruddy coloring meant she fit very, very well with the color of the rock. She was practically motionless, her breathing silent and barely noticeable. Her head was peeking out over the ledge. "Hi." She stated meekly, that came out alot softer than she meant it to. She didn't quite know what else to say in this situation. "Did you like my home?"

"Yes, we did," The ranger answered, taking a step back so his head wasn't angled up too harshly as he took a moment to get used to Minnie's appearance before smiling, "Sorry about the door, but we have orders to find out who's been doing our job for us." The troopers seemed variably less relaxed than their superior, unsure of how to feel in the situation. At the very least, they weren't making Minnie stare down a barrel.

Given that she wasn't glowering down a gun barrel, the mutant made her way down from her perch. Sliding and dropping down from the cliff-face with some incredibly grace and tact. She was very light on her feet, that was for sure. She was dressed lightly for the heat, with some loose, baggy and thin clothing covering the majority of her body. She didn't have any armor on, and the only weapon she seemed to carry was a 10mm pistol tucked away at her side. Her broad, bristled and orange tail was rather sightly, though she couldn't hide it well. "I figured it was a matter of time before I was found."

The ranger thought for a moment as he slowly brought up the sketchbook, his thumb having bookmarked the page where Minnie had sketched herself as a ranger. "... The New California Republic's military is made up of more than just humans. Sure, it's mostly us, but we have ghouls, even a few super mutants... If someone wants to fight for the Republic, we don't stop them... And given the reports I've seen of the legionaries you've left dead or wishing they were..." He turned the sketchbook around so she could see her own drawing, "With time, this can happen."

She'd look, her hands held to her chest. She looked moved in a way, as if she were a young child who was told she could have a puppy. She was a rational adult however, and she did have her concerns. "I'm sorry but, I don't think I'd be a good fit." She doubted, after spending so many years as a practical pariah and hermit. The thought of going back into regular human contact was a bit scary. She didn't look sure of her own words or actions, though it was mostly a fear of change. This was her routine, and now she was being offered to be trained as a ranger!

"Half the men and women in the NCR weren't 'good fits' when they first joined either. Plenty of rangers out there were once thugs part of some gang, chem addicts or chem sellers, or just someone who's never even picked up a rifle before," The ranger stated, "You'd still be hunting Legion, but you'd have people who got your back while doing it."

She looked down at the ground and thought for a moment, her back bristling for a moment before settling back down. "If you're offering, the least I can do is try. I'm out here because I don't like raiders, and I've nothing else to do. Legion's the largest group I've seen." Her expression softened, and she seemed to have a more genuine tone in her voice. "It just gets tiring being out here alone. Do you mind if I were to pack and come back with you?" She'd glance over to the pile of Legion armor and the ear-ring. "Uh... Do you want me to do anything with those?"

"I've heard about some competition a private's cooked up. He'd probably be interested in the ears," The ranger remarked, "If you're ready to where you can pack and leave now, we can wait. It'd be best if you had someone introducing you anyway."

"I don't have much, just a few things I don't want to leave behind." She'd move into her shelter, procuring an old backpack that was tucked away inside an overlapped panel on the back wall, there was also what looked to be a hunting shotgun as well. It wasn't in the best condition, but it looked fireable. She'd pack her books, some of the blankets, her clothes, the sketchbook that was being held, and the trophy-necklace. That she decided to put on over her neck. The bear was also put into the pack, along with the journal. She'd come back out, scratching the ground with her hindclaws. "I'm ready."

"Good. You and me are gonna head up to McCarran. I have some business there anyway I need to take care of," The ranger said with a nod before turning to the two troopers, "I'll tell your CO you two did a good job, but you... Next time don't focus so much on ears." He pointed to one of the troopers in particular before walking away, gesturing for Minnie to follow.

Minnie situated her backpack, before following the ranger. She'd look back to the two troopers, and say a little word of tracking wisdom. "Don't look too hard, look for movement, inconsistencies." She'd turn her attention back to the ranger. "What's McCarran?"

The ranger quickly looked down at her as the two walked with a look of incredulity. "You don't know McCarran?" He scoffed before letting out an amused huff as he looked forwards, "It's the NCR's headquarters here in the Mojave. All of our paperwork goes through there, so it'd be quicker for us to handle you joining if we went there ourselves. Far warning though, once I get you set, I'll have to split after that... I'm sure you'll be fine though. It's an easy process to get through, and you probably have more skill and experience than most of the troopers you'd end up with."

"Oh, apologies. I do not know much beyond the... large cars with rails area... trainyard. The deathclaws there made me nervous about venturing further, and there are very loud noises, like massive guns nearby." She didn't quite know the words or the political situation of things, she had arrived from the north, and didn't have the benefit of a normal human education.

"Big guns... Only thing I can think of would be the Howitzer at the Dam..." The ranger paused, realizing she probably didn't know what the word meant and explained, "Think a really, really big gun. The size of a building. It shoots in an arc from its barrel over into Legion territory."

"Oh? I'm not talking about the Dam, I mean to the northwest from here. Lots of those big guns, make lots of noise, very disorienting for me." She would point over in the direction of Nellis, before looking over towards the Dam and Lake Mead. "Why have you not wiped the legion camp out with that big gun? Surely it can reach?"

"Broken," The ranger would respond shortly, before taking a guess at who she was talking about, "Maybe you're talking about the boomers... They're holed up in the Nellis base. They shell anyone who comes even remotely close to them. Pretty hyperaggressive, but I doubt they have to worry about the Legion. Thankfully, there isn't artillery just lying around all over the Mojave, so you won't have to worry about getting 'disoriented'."

She would nod silently. "What is Vegas like, and McCaren? I've heard it's very bright, and there's alot of people. I've never gotten close, most people don't like how I look, don't want to risk getting shot at." She would look behind them, craning her ears up to check for any threats that may be nearby. "I came here from the North, north of the City of Dogs. Moved through many forests, passed through a place known as Zion. Lots of people, primitive like me, destroyed a town where a burned man lived. Then I found this place, following refugees and escapees."

"Huh... Well, we don't have much operations in that area yet, but I'm sure you can request more time there once we expand there," The ranger ascertained, "As for Vegas... Well, troopers like it a lot more than rangers; I'll put it that way. It's a place to lose all of your money and get every disease in one night before stumbling back for duty so piss-drunk that you're wearing your hat on your ass and your boots on your hands. It can be a place to have a little fun, don't get me wrong, but troopers usually end up having too much fun..."

"Sounds strange, why would you throw away your money and health for fun?" She asked, the hardass survivalist in her had made the ideas of gambling and licentious fun a foreign concept. They had a long walk ahead of them, and she was interested in making some coversation to pass the time. "What interesting things have you done?"

"Me? Well, I'm a pretty fresh ranger, so I don't have any 'epic ranger stories' to tell," He answered with a shrug before thinking back, "Though before I was accepted into the program, I did defend against a few Legion raids here and there... Not all of them were successful though. We try and keep the people relaxed about the whole situation, but us in the army need to always remember: Never underestimate Caesar's Legion. No matter how stupid they seem, no matter how many stupid legionaries you may have encountered, every legionary is a threat."

"A hunters first mistake is often their last." She stated in agreement, thinking back to her long history of travelling with no aim. "When I was younger, my father was slain by raiders. He taught me well enough for me to get to someplace safer on my own. I used to live far, far up north. There were plants and birds and mountains and things, there was lots of sand, hills and rain. Once a year, everything would get very cold, and lots of snow would be around. Sometimes, it snowed so fast and so harsh it felt as though it'd flay your skin. There were lots of strange animals, and strange people. People sort of like me."

"Winter, huh? Can't count how many troopers that've said they wished for a nuclear winter while patrolling the Mojave," The ranger remarked with a shake of his head and then a sigh, "But I'm sorry to hear about your father. It's a story I've heard a hundred times, kids losing their families to raiders and legionaries... It's part of why the New California Republic exists: To put an end to that. To make sure nobody has to raise themselves."

"He wasn't my real father, or so I'm told. He didn't look at all like me, but he was my dad. Told me I was a baby left near his home. I tried to find my real ones, but no luck. I had to leave. There were many raiders, and the regular people didn't trust me or mutants like me. There were also raiders in giant suits of metal who hunted us, no matter what they looked like or how they acted. They had powerful guns that shot burning green light, or lasers."

"Sounds like Brotherhood," The ranger muttered, "We drove them off some time ago here, so I'm not sure we really have to worry about them too much. They're a bunch of technology hoarders who'll kill you for a toaster if they wanted it. Pretty similar to raiders, I guess, just with much better equipment...... So you said there were others like you way up north?"

Her expression seemed to lighten as he talked about driving off the Mojave Brotherhood, there were likely some bad memories tied up with them. "Yeah, not all of them look like me, but some are very similar. Some of the older ones tell me they came from a few different vaults, where there was alot of FEV or something. Some of us aren't very smart, or are very hurt and just want to be alone. Others made their own little communities, some small, some very large and powerful. There are apparantly lots of Brotherhood up there." She stated, not going too fully into detail. She could provide alot of good info, info that would need to be corroborated, but good first intel nonetheless. "Lots of us in this place called Yellowstone."

"Really? I think you and McCarran have lots to talk about then. Whatever information you have about anything north would be very helpful to the NCR," The ranger replied with a smile, "If we expand that far, it'll make dealing with the Brotherhood much easier."

"Gladly, anything to bring those bastards down." Minnie didn't have anything to say in the meantime. Perhaps when they arrived at McCarran, she'd have more to talk about.


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Post by megaman177 on Fri Nov 22, 2019 1:28 pm

Culitt Belidd

Culitt took a silent pause from ripping apart his delicate vocal chords with his less than charming yelling, dipping his densely clad neck to glare at the terrified Emma and her various flaming surroundings. Some sense of clarity returned to the Grineer as he felt a flash of concern at the sight of her weeping, frozen in place, eliciting some paternal instincts that the Lich didn't even know existed in the hollows of his warlike mind. It was definitely easier to hate children more when they were piloting Warframes instead of writhing about on the ground in front of you.

Regardless, the coarse irritation of sand was proving too problematic to possibly consider any diplomatic options.

Culitt threw the now thoroughly-deceased carcass of the large mantis he was holding onto a nearby pyre, before limply dropping his Drakgoon onto the sand below him. He cracked his knuckles and laughed, half-mad, half-sadistic.

"I've been waiting a long time for a chance like this, Tenno!" he announced, gesturing a hand at Emma as he slowly towered and imposed on her step by augmented-legged step. "You, me, and enough nice firey space for me to pull your intestines out for at-least a few yards. Goodie!" He punted his Drakgoon, his metal foot landing harshly on the gun, sending it careening a metre away.

Crouching over Emma and preparing to wrap his hands around her crimson neck, Belidd almost stumbled into toppling on top of her as he jumped at the distinctive sound of honking. Twisting his visor-wielding countenance towards the unfamiliar sight of the Goose, he glanced back at Emma.

"I see." he muttered bemusedly, folding his arms. "Looks like you Tenno have branched into Condrocs as your new, oh-so-precious war puppies." He cocked his head at the small goose in the distance, eyeing the stick in its beak. "Well, obviously your favourite Grineer can field test for you. I'm expecting... flying results."

Culitt chuckled briefly at his own joke before shaking his head and coming back to his senses. He burst into a war-cry and began charging in the Goose's direction, determined to stampede the small winged animal swiftly to death.

Gibson Scrapyard

Jordas felt his precepts slowly start up in an unfamiliar datascape. Slowly waking up, Muggy would feel an unfamiliar presence loom in his electronics as Cephalon Jordas' personality began to replicate and entrench itself throughout the Securitron's systems, the AI's presence marking itself throughout Muggy's internals.

Jordas quickly noticed Muggy's personality in the Securitron hardware that they now both shared. "Hello, I am Cephalon Jordas." he greeted, materialising as a cube in Muggy's mind. "Jordas detects an anomaly in your precepts, fellow Cephalon. Are your systems running on the most relevant Corpus software model? DISAPPOINTING THEY AREN'T." This much was true from Jordas' perspective, being used to the state-of-the-art computers from his generation.

"Sensory readings indicate an Operator is addressing us." Jordas decided, interfering with Muggy's opticals to view Old Lady Gibson. "I will engage the necessary protocols to address the Operator and TASTE- renovate your systems with the precept packages available through my library."

Cuppy's Securitron corpulence would begin to heat, gaining temperature like a charging phone as Jordas planted sophisticated data into any faculty available to him through Muggy's hardware and software. The heat came to an unnatural boil as Muggy's body would begin to practically convulse, with Jordas forcing terabytes of information and programming across the delicate technology that comprised the poor Securitron.

After a few seconds, this rather disturbing experience stopped, with everything returning back to normal.

"I have enhanced your precepts to regulatory Corpus frigate standards. You don't need to thank me." Jordas explained. "There should now be a substantial allocation of FLESH- memory to allow me to address the Operator."

Muggy's screen would turn static as the blurry shape of Jordas' square attempted to form on it. "Greetings, Operator. I am Cephalon Jordas." the AI's distorted voice rang out. "COMING HERE WAS- This is a mistake. Please, connect us to the nearest-"

Jordas' monologue was cut short when Muggy's monitor began buzzing, before exploding, sending glass rolling all over the ground.

"Oh dear." Jordas muttered, turning his attention back to Muggy. "This presents an... inconvenience. You must find the nearest terminal to CONSUME accomodate Jordas' data. Thank you."

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Post by TheRandomRingmaster on Fri Nov 22, 2019 2:02 pm

There was little time to react as Jordas,infected his system,it was a rather unpleasent feeling,and that was more impressive considering how much unpleasentness he faced.

“OH SWEET NON-EXISTENT DEITIES,MY FACE!”Muggy screamed,he spun around before circling around the yard pivioting on his singular wheel every few feet,bumping into things and flailing his metallic graspers as high as spastically as he could.

It would have been funny to view,at least a little bit.


Muggy,flopped onto the ground in front of Miss Gibson onto his broken face.


His left clasper curled around the broken shards of coffee mug nearby.

“MAINFRAME COMPROMISED….couldn’t you have picked on someone else” Muggy weeped.

The toon reached up to the top of his head and plucked it off,before placing it back on as a greeting.

“Classy,short for Classiford”.

Classy shifted in his seat,”what I seek,dear boy is not spirits to raise my own,but….information”.
Classy paused and looked around, “About this town,this world,it is drenched it tragedy,clothed in a tattered coat”.

“My question is why,who,and where, the players of this world and those who hold this power….”.

Classy tapped his mitten like hands on the counter,”I have not a lot of caps,but I do have skills that might be of use….surely even you have ‘individuals’ that have slighted and wronged you?”

“How about it,words for services,of the back alley nature?”Classy asked taking out the knife he had and scrunched it into its wavy shape.

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Post by Infested on Wed Dec 04, 2019 2:24 am

Camp Golf

As the day rolled on, a new figure walked over the horizon towards Camp Golf. He was tall, as tall as any super mutant would be, but lacked the same muscular appearance in his lanky, more streamlined appearance. However, his attire was far too old in how flamboyant and eloquently it had been crafted to even consider him to be any simple super mutant. Indeed, the Amuel’Hegash that walked towards the nearest civilization was not a mutant, nor of this world.

Dukhul frustratedly peered down to his map with a sigh. The map depicted the local cluster of inhabited planets, a general description of their populace and environment. However, none of them described a hot wasteland with barely any water. It was hard enough having to leave his homeworld into the excessively complex territory of interstellar travel and learn the intricacies of galactic civilizations, but now he had been placed on a random wasteland, with no idea of where he was!

His vision was not the greatest, but the woodworker could see the familiar silhouettes of far-off humans. Humans were plentiful, even in the most rugged of conditions. Dukhul believed them to be a good sign, and that they could gladly assist him back onto his journey. He rose a hand up and waved as he walked towards the NCR encampment. "Greetings, people of the human species!" He declared jauntily as he approached, before quickly asking, "...You are humans, correct?"


Bob laughed at the sincerity of Elizabeth's cooking rage against the super mutant's kitchen. "I’m sure it wasn’t the greatest kitchen," he agreed with a calm sigh, "But I’m not sure it’s worth yelling about. Anyways, I think we should get going soon. I’m sure all of your sisters are around this wasteland as well. And if it’s a wasteland, then chances are they’re not all in the best of spots. We can stay here for the night, then say our goodbyes here and go in the morning."

The Doomslayer looked back for a moment to see where Marcus had gone, and was rather confused at catching a short glimpse of him and the petite pig-girl conversing outside. "Huh," was his initial thoughts, "That’s certainly different," he turned back to Elizabeth, "So, what are you two cooking?"

Camp McCarran

The NCR base of operations in the region, Camp McCarran was a place of hustle and bustle, with platoons of soldiers coming and going along the tents set up within the former airstrip. A powerhouse of military might, the NCR presence bolstered defenses against the Fiends and kept the nearby sharecroppers relatively safe from their savage raids in return for their harvests. It would be unlikely that any of the reported anomalies that had been plaguing the rest of the Mojave in the past day or so would come to find any sort of harbor in the NCR’s largest fortress in the area.

That would not be the case, however, when the ground suddenly shook, the geological features underneath the airstrip shifting and changing as, within the blink of an eye, a temple- a crude ziggurat, weather-faded into its simple granite color and bearing little of its old regalia, sat at the center of camp, having displaced everything that had been where it now stood. Upon its exterior, dozens of vertical lines of cuneiform symbols were etched upon the worn stairs that lead to the top of the moderately small ziggurat. Symbolic depictions of what looked to be a man kneeling, his hands held stretched behind him and shackled to many chains, and many smaller beings around him, more abstract in appearance. Between them, stout figures holding hammers and more chains, their faces covered in masks, with some appearing to have beards drooping beneath them. They depicted some event.... an event that those around it now would not understand.

A chilling wind gently blew from within the temple. A tension in the air fell upon all those near the newly-arisen ziggurat, as even the skies seemed to grow cloudy in the arrival of what they did not know to be but a prison now with doors open to all.

Meanwhile, at the entrance of the base, where word of the temple had not yet reached the armed guards at the door, a top-heavy man in a two-piece business suit looked about in dismay at the world about him.

"...This isn’t America I know..." Armstrong huffed to himself as he began to turn towards the troopers at the door, "It's a damn mess. More than the usual, I mean."

He stomped up to the closest of the NCR troopers and looked down to him. "This is McCarran, isn’t it?" He asked, unaware of the state of the airport-turned-basecamp, "I’m a US senator and I need a flight back to D.C. pronto. You boys able to get me one?"

Camp Searchlight

The town of Searchlight, now made into an NCR military camp, sat silent and abandoned once more by its inhabitants. The air within was filled with a sickly green fog- radiation lisping through the stagnant winds of the ruins, released by a Legion plot against the NCR. It had driven out the troopers that had been stationed there, killed them, or worse even. It was an isolated town, where none went in, and none returned.

Feral ghouls- radioactive facades of what were once NCR soldiers- roamed the town, ravenous in the way they sought fresh meats to feed upon. Besides them, the newest inhabitants of Searchlight were the vermin. Radscorpions, particularly giant radscorpions, had taken a liking to the abandoned town’s radiation, with a queen making itself at home within the firehouse from where the radioactive materials were released.

A dumpster rustled and shook behind one of the decrepit buildings, before the tall form of the undead pirate Tychen leapt out, falling onto the arid dirt with a groan. "Oh... that was a hell of a night. We might’ve eh, Harper...?" He asked as he stood up and dusted himself off, but quickly realized that Harper was nowhere in sight. That, and that his attire had changed somewhat.

"...Harper? Where’d you go? Why’d you put this... mask on me?" He asked, tapping the plain white mask that faceted into his head, "I mean... it’s nice, but I just want to know why. Harper? Harper!" He looked about, now realizing that he was not where he had been last time he was awake. "Ah hell- did that jerkoff Bob leave without me? Ditch me in some dumpster and drive off to Canada?"

He went on, storming off towards the center of town and shouting again, "Harper! Come out here and let’s do something!" He flailed his arms about in frustration, before grunting, "Terrible."

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Post by Lowfn on Thu Dec 05, 2019 1:45 am


Entrapta and Matilda had been directed up towards Quarry Junction by Easy Pete, who warned that while there had been 'trouble' in the area, he was admittedly unaware of exactly what that trouble was. All he knew is that Quarry Junction had plenty of machines. He had also recommended the REPCONN Test Site, and even gave directions to it. It would have a much more advanced variety of electronics to work with, but was much farther and could be reached by making a stop at Quarry Junction anyway.

The two would slowly come upon the town of Sloan, not too far from Goodsprings and settled just outside of Quarry Junction. The denizens, most of whom were miners, were preparing for the eventual reestablishment of mining operations in the nearby Quarry Junction after all of the deathclaws that had once called it their home vanished.

Those that investigated (From a safe distance) were shocked to find the aftermath of whatever battle had taken place in Quarry Junction. Matilda found the hodgepodge sheet metal shacks of Sloan to be an oddly comforting sight, smiling to them before glancing over to Schloobadoo's cart with a curious expression. "Hey, look at that," She said to Entrapta and gestured over to the blocky cart and its blocky merchant.

The folk of Sloan didn't pay the two much mind, and they had no need to warn passerbys of deathclaws anymore. They would get a few waves from those going about their business in the distance, but the people were otherwise minding their own business with renewed morale thanks to the deathclaw extermination.


"Yeah, I would have left earlier, but I'm nine so I probably would have died," The little chef remarked blankly before smiling as she hopped over to Lily's side and answered Bob's inquiry, "I'm not really sure what we're making. I don't recognize some of the vegetables and stuff here, and the only meat they have are from these big animals called 'bighorners'... So I'm just making a really basic stew for now to see how it goes."

The nightkin grandma took the large, metal spoon out of the pot, holding a bit of the liquid inside alongside some chopped of veggies and little chunks of browned meat. The pot, spoon, and the kitchen as a whole were in surprisingly clean condition compared to the rest of the wasteland. An observant eye would note the many filthy rags in a nearby trashcan and multiple empty bottles of cleaning supplies. Elizabeth had likely spent more time cleaning than she had cooking, working herself to the bone as usual.

Elizabeth would produce a clean rag before gently blowing on the spoon and gesturing for Bob to try her and Lily's stew. "OH THIS IS SO EXCITING!" Lily exclaimed, "I HAVEN'T GOTTEN TO COOK LIKE THIS IN SO LONG! MY GRANDKIDS LOVED MY COOKIES THE MOST!"

Camp McCarran

"Uhhh... You know none of the planes here actually work, right?" The trooper questioned, giving the senator an odd look, "And I'm not sure of anything anywhere here that could take you all the way to D.C. Are you sure you-" His words would be interrupted by the shaking of the ground and the sound of screamd and shouts from within McCarran.

"What the shit!?" He trooper cried out before throwing open the garage-style door to the camp to see what was going on, nearly dropping his firearm in shock at the sight of the ziggurat. Displaced tr9oopers and rangers were recuperating from its appearance. None seem too seriously injured beyond some cuts and bruises, and the NCR was quick to fall back to a safe distance from the appearance of the building while brave individuals would run to retrieve vital supplies on the ground near it.

Armstrong would be given a clear view of the camp with the garage door open. Other than the recently toppled tents, it seemed the airport had been fashioned into a military base under not the United States flag, but rather a recreation of the original California state flag. The bear had two heads, and there was the addition of the word "New" beside "California Republic".


Almost immediately, Tychen would be beset by the feral ghouls that had once been troopers in the New California Republic. The deformed creatures cried out in raspy voices as two of them charged the pirate. In the distance, a similar scene played out on an overpass. A group of smoothskin troopers fended off their feral ghoul counterparts.

One of the ghouls swiping at Tychen glowed a bright green, and glowing ooze sputtered out of its mouth. It emanated radioactivity, and the pirate would feel the gamma heat from a shirt distance.

Then the world blew up. The end.

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Post by AestheticMonkey on Thu Dec 05, 2019 2:17 pm

Hoover Dam

Deep within the concrete bowels of the power plant, a loud clang echoed out from a storage closet as a mechanical individual was displaced within. The door would open slightly thereafter as Bucket stumbled out. "Well, this isn't the Laurie Ann. Why am I still transmitting to this chassis when there are this many zeroes according to my telemetry? This shouldn't be possible unless I have become quantum entangled." He muttered to himself as he scanned around, and began to walk. His loud clanking chassis made a hell of alot of noise. He also had a prominent missile launcher strapped and integrated into one arm.

South Vegas
Collab between Aeth and H

Outskirts of New Vegas

Outside the walls of scrap and metal that bordered New Vegas, things quickly turned to squalor. Very few lived in these areas that were not filthy raiders that preyed on those trying to pass to the city.

It would be here that Kanen awoke, startled by the light of the sun in his eyes as he pulled himself up from the pile of centuries-old trash and looked about, wide-eyed and alert. He was not aboard the cruiser back home like he was before he fell asleep. Nothing about his surroundings seemed familiar whatsoever, from the decrepit ruins, to the retro aesthetics of the burned-out cars that sat about. He couldn't think of many places he could be, but was soon forced to put those thoughts aside at the sounds of footsteps running down the street. He ducked for cover, hiding himself behind a half-destroyed brick wall.

Moth-Eater had arrived in South Vegas some time ago, and the Basilisk Soldier had made himself at home atop a high perch: a crumbling building inaccesible to most normal folks. Being part spider and being able to climb vertical surfaces was quite useful. He had watched the entire area through his binoculars, spotting the bustling McCarran in the distance, the independant Westside and traces of other folks. They were primitive, and he doubted he was anywhere near Hub-Space. He thought the skull-capped people below him a bunch of fiends, yet he hadn't fired on anyone yet. They had fired at some brown clothed troopers sure, but not any civilians as far as he could tell. That was until, his gaze was moved to the fleeing Kanen. He would pull out his rifle, zoning it in towards him. If things went south for such a young man, he might put some holes in these raiders.

Kanen peered slowly about from his cover, trying to control his rapid breathing as he surveyed the several men walking by, garbed in what could only be described as near-tribal outfits, topped with ram-skull helmets fitting for ruthless savages. He felt about himself to try and find something to defend himself if the need arose. To his dismay, he found very little in terms of defense against the firearms the Fiends possessed, and could only hope to try and evade their fire long enough to escape if he had to. He shifted his position ever so slightly, positioning himself so that if the need did arise, he could be back to running as soon as necessary.

Kanen held his breath as one of the several raiders, a brute holding some sort of futuristic laser rifle, came closer to his position. He ducked back behind cover, but his quick movements had caused several pieces of detritus next to him to shift and fall from their place in the pile of garbage. The Fiend's head jerked about, his weapon raised as he looked to his compatriots with a nod for them to follow in his lead, before turning back to the rubble, slowly approaching to investigate. Kanen quietly held himself ready, trying to think of a way out of this but finding himself out of options once more, his mind racing too quickly to make any cohesive plan.

Moth-Eater kept his rifle scoped in on the lead Fiend, he would load a projectile in the gauss-rifle, the coils humming as they charged up and got ready to dispatch a round at supersonic speeds towards the raider. All he needed was the faintest hint of aggression and he'd blow his spine out his sternum.

As the Fiend turned the corner, Kanen could see an expression of mixed delight and rage cross over the raider's face at the sight of a boy covering behind the rubble. He rose his rifle upwards and brought his finger down to the trigger, applying the pressure as he was about to shout to his cohorts of his find. Kanen simply closed his eyes and accepted it, his fate seemingly sealed in a random moment.

The moment would never come, superhuman reflexes noted the trigger-finger moving up towards the well, and the expression of a killer plastering itself over his face. A magnetic round was hurled down the barrel of the gun, a thunderous crack ringing out among the streets. The round would impact the fiend directly on his shoulder blade, the round travelling through his torso and exploding out his side. Destroying the shoulder-joint and his ribcage in the process.

Kanen would take a moment before realizing the Fiend had not fired, and would open his eyes slowly to the sight of the raider's desiccated body falling forwards, thumping into the ground next to him as the other three Fiends would raise their weapons, looking about in confusion as to where the devastating shot had come from.

Kanen would take another moment to assess the situation, and then realize the raider had lost his weapon in death. Hastily, the Vesidanyan scrambled up, grabbing the Laser rifle and holding it as well as he could. Now he had, at the very least, a fighting chance. His movements, however, had caught the attention of at least one of the other Fiends, who turned their caravan rifle towards the boy with a hateful sneer.

Looking about in confusion, it was almost unfair. They should have been scrambling for cover by now, and another raider would pay the ultimate price for it. Another shot echoed out through the hot air as another slug was sent screaming through the air for another fiend. This one impacting them in the jaw. The round smashed their mouth to pieces and blew out the back of their head, their torn skull falling to the ground as their mushroom-necked body fell to the ground. The shotgun clattering to the ground near the boy.

"Shit!" One of the remaining two raiders hissed as they took their opportunity to fire at where they had approximated the shot to have been fired from with their hunting rifle, a bullet whizzing by... ten feet away from Moth-Eater. They were clearly not as attuned snipers as the Basilik soldier.

Kanen, now spurred on by the death of two of the would-be assailants, was ready to try and go on the offensive against the remaining two. "Hey!" He shouted loudly, raising his weapon and aiming at the chest of one of the remaining Fiends and firing. The streak of red energy hit the raider, a barely moving target, square in the chest, noticeably charring his armor, but would not be enough to kill. Enraged by the attack on him, the Fiend began to slowly move forwards, aiming down the sights of his own laser weapon and firing, missing Kanen only slightly. He could feel the heat of the laser miss him by mere inches.

Moth-Eater didn't flinch as the bullet dinked against the stonework near him, and he would return the Fiend's shot with one of his own. The shot would connect with his wrist, severing it as the spinning, blunted projectile impacted his stomach, and came to a thudding rest against his spinal cord. Cracking the bone heavily. Seeing his charge nearly eat a laser to the chest, he would swiftly move his rifle over and fire off a shot. He hadn't aimed it the best, but the shot managed to land in his hip. The projectile blowing through his hipbone and sending bone shrapnel all through his flesh. The bolt tearing open a large exit through the bottom of his pelvic cavity and cutting a large gash down the side of his leg. He'd likely topple to the ground without his pelvis to support him any further.

As the final savage fell to the ground in abject pain before him, Kanen looked down to the Fiend for a few moments, before walking past, unwilling to put the raider out of his misery as he slowly bled to death. He looked out over the nearby wasteland, now having a chance to view it without being under the duress of primitives killing him. He turned about, looking for where his secret guardian could have fired from, finding the large ruined building to be the only reasonable position a sniper could have placed themselves to fire at all of the Fiends.

The basilisk soldier would gaze down from his perch at the young man, and slowly rise up to wave at him. He was atop there. He'd sling his rifle back over his back, before turning around and jumping down a hole of sorts to the lower levels of the building. He'd emerge a minute or two later at the front doors to the building, idly leaning against the old, pock-marked concrete.

Kanen was unsure what to say to the sniper. The man had just saved his life at least twice within the last few minutes. He was quite clearly a force to be reckoned with. "...You saved me there," he spoke up, putting the rifle on his back by its strap. He immediately wished he hadn't said anything, the appearance of the basilisk soldier not providing any ease in how he would react.

"Yeah, don't mention it." His unblinking black eyes continued to scan over Kanen. "Never seen a Basilisk Soldier before? Big scary bugmen that traded away their humanity so they could rebel from Hub and kill decent spacefarin' folk? Bunch of Hub bullshit, we're people to even if it's a fucking crime to be myself. Can't even undo this shit." His gaze somehow hardened. "Tell anyone, and I mean anyone Hub-related about this and I'll leave you like those savages over there." He was clearly a bit paranoid, his talking was quick and skitterish, as though he didn't like being seen. "But yeah, I got a face my own mother can't love. Wonder if she's still alive..."

Hidden Valley

From the sky, a four-ton magma-diving suit fell to the ground. Creating a colossal impact that shook and fractured the earth. Lennox let out a groan inside her suit, flipping off an impact alarm switch. "Yeah yeah I know, we took a big fall. You're engineered for worse you tin can." She mumbled, her voice filtering outside slightly. She would look around the valley, her suit swiveling around on its hip joints to scan the area. "Desert, and some old bunkers." She whispered to herself, turning further around to note HELIOS ONE in the distance. She would begin to stomp down towards the solar power-plant. She noted that there were people outside of it, people with guns. She wasn't immediately cautious, afterall, she was in an eight-ton mech built to withstand active volcanoes.

She would approach the people outside the power-plant, waving the arm of her mech, notably the one without the attached autocannon. "Hi there, don't be alarmed, I come in peace!" She stated in Common English. Hopefully they wouldn't open fire, she would like directions. "Would you happen to have a map, or directions? I think I'm severely lost."

Given that the machine looked custom-built, and was even named. The pilot likely had extensive mechanical knowledge. She might even be useful to the plant.

Collab between Aeth and Zandoo

Bonnie Springs

EMET would crash down upon the ground outside of the ruined town, his jetpack sputtering as it temporarily ran out of fuel completely. The drone would rise up from his small, dusty crater and stare around at the place. He immediately tried to ping the Laurie Anne, and recieved nothing in return. Jack also returned nothing, and the drone felt sadness about not being able to contact its master. He would continue to ping a variety of communications equipment until finally he managed to isolate a few frequencies. There were multiple radio signals, and he could faintly make out Bucket! His signal was weak though, but otherwise displayed that he was fine. He did not recognize the environment, and so began to listen to avaliable radio broadcasts.

The town itself was ramshackle, falling apart and burning. His Emergency Medical and Evacuation Technician programming would kick in as he stepped through the town. "Hello! Is anyone still alive?! Do you need medical assistance and or evacuation?! I am a trained field medic who can h-h-help y- #WHO THE FUCK BUILT THIS PLACE?! YOU SHOULD HAVE THEIR FUCKING GUTS FOR GARTERS! - I did not mean t-t-hat, th-that w- #AW YES I DID!"

While the denizens of the rotting remains of Bonnie Springs didn't need much reason to attack someone, the drone's outburst definitely drew the attention and ire of nearly every member of the Viper gang holed out in the ruins. In a near instant, EMET would be met with gunfire from nearly all directions. They probably figured they could disable the machine and sell its scrap for a decent amount of caps.

"Why are you firing upon me, I am a-a-a- #DEATH MACHINE MADE OF HATE AND FUCK!" EMET yelled, his demon-core taking control of the Vox-drone's systems. Bullets bouncing and richocheting off his armor, he would duck for cover. Taking a moment to make sure he had tracking darts within his hand, he would stick his appendage out from cover while peeking his head out. A small energy pulse could be heard as his finger-gun propelled tracking darts at high velocity towards the raiders. The darts themselves were heavily barbed, meant to stay in place. Hopefully he would have tagged the majority of the gang after his salvo.

The distinct, shrieking sounds of rockets flaring to life could be heard as a barrage of missles began to fly out from EMET's jetback, the missles homing in on the tracking darts.

The drone would hear multiple brief screams and swears from the raiders, all of them cut off by the explosions brought by EMET's missiles. One particularly brave (Or downright foolish) Viper that had not been darted rushed the drone, leaping towards him with a lead pipe which he frantically swung.

EMET would step out from his cover, and extend his hand out towards the lead pipe. Metal clattering against metal as the softer, more pliable lead pipe was stopped against his hand. Although the plating covering the machinery was dented a bit. He would rip the pipe out of the raider's hands, and bring his other hand to his throat, squeezing down hard upon his windpipe. "Bebebe c-caref- #I'M GOING TO RIP YOUR FACE OFF AND WEAR IT LIKE A HAT!" EMET yelled, before cocking his free-hand back and punching the raider as hard as he could directly on his bony chin.

The Viper's head practically exploded in a mess of bone fragments and assorted gore, chunks fo what once was his head strewn about as blood spurted from his exposed throat. As other raiders revealed themselves from afar and fired, they would be met with explosions, though clearly not from EMET. Coming from a delapidated building near the end of Bonnie Springs were small grenades that arched through the air, exploding on impact with the violent thugs. Between the machine with missiles and terrifying presence and the apparent support he had, those that remained would flee in terror.


Tentatively, someone would step out of the crumbling remains with her hands raised. She had what looked to be a grenade launcher in one hand pointed directly up at the sky, though none of her fingers threatened to go near its trigger. While she most certainly looked to have some muscle, she seemed to be in her teens- Fifteen to be exact.

EMET's face would flicker back to his usual, blue LED display. "Oh hello! My name is EMET, I am an Emergency Medical and Evacuation Technician, are you in any need of medical assistance? This town looks as though it has had a catastrophe happen, and you don't look like you're friendly with those other people?"

"No... No, they tried to shoot me when I first showed up," The girl explained, still keeping her hands up in spite of the drone's friendlier speech, "Other than some scrapes, I'm fine... I don't really know what happened here, and I was trying to find my sisters, but I had to hide in there until you showed up."

"As an experienced Evacuation drone, I can help you find your family members wherever they are, and I-i ca-can- #FUCK ANY MOTHERFUCKER WHO THINKS THEY CAN HURT YOU." EMET's face would return with a shocked expression. "I am sorry, I did not mean to use such language."

"It's, uh... It's okay," She assured as she slowly lowered her hands, "My name's Mary, by the way. Are you alright?" She had a look of concern given EMET's seeming inability to control his speech, especially given the changing of his face and voice before he would apologize for his own words.

"Sometimes my logic core goes dark, and when it comes back, everyone looks surprised at me. When this happens, another drone talks, I do not control when." EMET stated, his voice sounding more monotone than cheerful. "Hello Mary, I am glad to see you. Would you like my help in locating your sisters?"

"I'd definitely appreciate it," Mary nodded with a bit of a laugh in her tone before frowning at her surroundings, "I just have no idea where they are... I only just got here, and it looks like this place is mostly desert, which is bad in ofitself on top of the fact we're from New York-" She realized, given the multiversal nature of some of the people she met, that EMET might not know what New York is as she added, "It's, uh... Usually kinda cold there."

"Do not worry, this place is foreign to me too. I do not believe I am on the same planet. We can however find out if there are locals, and locate your missing siblings too." EMET would look out towards New Vegas. "My wireless receptors indicate t-t-hat c-c- #HAS A FUCKAWFUL TASTE IN MUSIC- city is inhabited."

"Hmm... If I know Zoey, that's probably where she'd be headed... And everyone else will probably go there too knowing she would," Mary mumbled as she stared to the faraway city, "... I'm just worried that some of them might not make it there though... But I guess it's the only place we can head to..." It was better than aimlessly wandering the desert in hopes of bumping into a lost sister.

"If we find a safe place to shelter in that is well known, we can search for your family from a position of great stability! Do not worry, they will all be okay a-nd sa-sa-safe- #WE'LL FUCK UP ANYONE WHO HURTS THEM." EMET stated, adjusting the antenna on the top of his head. "I am also picking up a frequency from another robot, his name is Bucket and he is really smart, and his head is a UAV!"

"A UAV?" Mary blinked, "You mean like a drone? Where is he?" While EMET was certainly rather strange given the fact that two contrasting AI were housed in the same body, both seemed helpful, and that was most certainly better than trekking on her own.

"I do not know where he is, only where his signal is coming from. According to the wireless telemetry, he is currently further from us than that city. The connection is really poor though, and I am having trouble conversing with him. Although he states that he is fine." The two-face drone stated. "Yes, he can detatch it and fly it around. It was once used to track down the hostile wildlife I was brought in to help pacify." He added.

"Huh... Well, let's try and find some food and water before we start heading to that city. It looks pretty far, and dying of dehydration would be a pretty lame way to go out," Mary noted before meandering about the ruined town in hopes of finding anything, though the town was pretty sparse in, well, anything. She'd search what remained of the Vipers corpses she would come across, taking a trail carbine from the downed leader of the group and his ammunition. She would sling the gun around onto her back before calling out, asking if EMET had found anything in regards to sustenance.

"I have found some roasted remains of local arthropod life." The drone stated, holding up several sticks with bits of mantis skewered upon them. "Do not worry about water, I come stocked with several days worth of supply." As an evac drone, this was needed quite often.

"That's handy," Mary remarked before taking one of the sticks, inspecting it for a moment and giving it a sniff. Food was food, she supposed. She bit down and slid the stick between her teeth before chewing the bit of mantis. "Thanks, EMET," She spoke up while she chewed, figuring the mantis wasn't half bad.

"Thank you, I am reliable!" EMET cheered, sounding quite happy with himself that he was of aide to someone. "Would you like to start travelling? My programming says that night travel would be more effective in conserving our resources, but civilization is not that far away."

"The sooner we get moving, the better," Mary ascertained as she started walking, "Besides, you're a robot, right? You don't get tired, so you can carry me when I need to sleep- U-Unless that'd be weird for you."

"That is not weird at all, I am perfectly capable of operating while holding a load under two hundred a-a-nd- #BLOWING SOMEONE THE FUCK UP WITHOUT WAKING YOUR BITCH ASS UP!" EMET's face returned to normal, "keeping you safe while doing so."

Mary couldn't help but snicker, shaking her head a bit before giving EMET a nod. "Thanks. Going with you will cut the travel time in half than if I were by myself. So, uh... How'd you end up with another 'drone' inside of you?"

"My master Jack installed it into me, it helps me fight. Jack told me that I would need this other drone in order to fight, stay alive and heal my master and his teammates to the best of my ability. I was brought online and modified to aid in the evacuation of Shear. A planet being invaded by monsters!" EMET explained, beginning to walk in the direction of New Vegas.

"Wow... That sounds like a pretty big deal," Mary remarked, "I really just... Guard my sisters. Don't get me wrong, it's something I'm proud to do, protecting my family and all... But as amazing as artillery is, it doesn't really let you get in the action when everyone is too scared to come by because they know you're gonna shell them... So then I don't ever get to actually shoot anything... Things have gotten kind've exciting since we ended up in different universes and stuff, but... I dunno." She'd simply shrug as she walked.

Mojave Outpost

"No, sorry. Nobody matching that's come through here," A ranger would shake his head with sympathy, "Is she your mom or something?"

"... No... If you see her, please tell me," Clara said in unwavering monotone as she looked up at the ranger with an emotionless expression that would certainly serve as one hell of a poker-face in the Strip. She had managed to acquire some information on her location from those operating the outpost, and found herself practically trapped there. Her guess would be that Ernette, the woman she was searching for, would be heading to 'New Vegas', but the road just down the hill was too dangerous for the twelve-year-old, and she had no supplies to last her the trip.

A little kid, perhaps ten or so, was also in the outpost. He looked a bit dirty and unkempt, with frazzled dark hair that peaked from under a heavy linen hood and shawl. He had on long, faded cargo pants and had some modest pre-war tennis shoes covering his feet. He would walk over to the ranger talking with Clara, listening in on the conversation with interest. He could see that the girl looked saddened, slightly irritated with her circumstances. The ranger was yellow, just doing his duty, he wasn't an enemy, nor was he a threat. Perhaps he was with one of the caravans that were stuck here in the torn-apart outpost? Noone had seen him enter alone.

Clara's outfit contrasted the child's greately, being a pristine, grey outfit that made her look like she came right out of a business meeting in an office. Her equally grey eyes would look down for a moment before she would turn to the boy. "... Do you need something?" She would ask, giving him the same monotone and lack of expression she had the ranger, who walked off to take care of other business and leaving the two children alone.

He would reach out and touch her arm, Clara's vision would wobble slightly as a ringing would blare through her ears for a moment. She even saw the world in greyscale for a moment as a mental connection was created from the touch. "I overheard your troubles." He stated, speaking directly into her mind without moving his mouth. "I am lost too."

The experience was enough to make Clara's eyes widen slightly in surprise and shock before they'd return to their usual apathetic-looking state. "What did you just do?" She questioned, taking a step back before blinking, "Was that you... Talking in my head?"

"Yes, I can talk to you now. I cannot do this with the grown ones, their minds are not as pliable. If I try to force it... they cannot handle it. I made a link between us, I can think to you, and you can think to me." He replied, his voice sounding low and depressed. "I don't want to be here long, I cannot keep up this disguise for too long, and the people here are scared, fearful. Something strange, like me came through here, violently, ripped the gates up. If they see me, they might get angry too."

Clara would stare at him for a moment. As expected by this point, her expression did not change. "If we leave, the wildlife will kill us. On top of that, I don't have any food or water," Clara would respond in thought, her inner voice just as monotone as her spoken voice, though with just a bit more inflection. She turned her gaze eastward, able to see a few giant insects scrambling about in the distance upon squinting her eyes.

"I can get us supplies and water, many people here got them through bad methods. Hurt people to get them." He would look over to the insects. "They are defensive, just want to protect their burrows, scared." The insects would begin to visibly glow orange in her vision.

Clara would marvel at the change in her perception with all the outward enthusiasm of a child watching a documentary about the history of watching paint dry, but he would be able to feel how surprised and curious she truly was on the inside. "If that's the case, then you take the lead," She 'said', "But if those giant ants start attacking, I can't promise I'll grab you when I run."

"Don't worry, I am very quick, quicker than you. The beasts are big, but stupid. I can keep them from chasing you." He would begin to wander around the place, and just by merely touching people around the base. He had already amassed two backpacks filled with some supplies they would need in the wasteland. A lone trooper even gave the Little One his sidearm. His mental suggestion telling the trooper this was just fine. Of course, it would wear off before too long. "We should try and get going, I am getting tired, and if they see me, they'll be angry, and they might realize I took a few things they did not need." He would hand the 9mm pistol to Clara, along with two magazines of ammo. He had been taught how to act well, but, doing a few tiny, small evils to prevent an even worse one from occuring was okay.

"... Thank you. Why're you helping me?" She'd ask as she started walking past the giant ranger statue that made the Mojave Outpost iconic. She would stuff the two magazines handed to her into her pockets before dropping the one inside the pistol out into her hand before shoving it back in. A testament to the weapons training in the Hold, she knew her trigger discipline as she kept her finger behind the trigger of the arm and held it to the ground.

"You remind me of someone, and myself. All alone in a wasteland." He would look down at her weapons handling, and felt a slight pang of discomfort. "I am getting too tired, and I am going to show you what I really look like. Please don't shoot at me, okay?" He stated, before his child illusion faded. His true-form was at least a foot taller, and while he was humanoid, there was no mistaking him for a human up close.

The little girl would take a step back to take in his new appearance, but was otherwise unfazed. The hand holding her new pistol didn't even twitch. "I expected worse," She remarked before turning her attention back to the downhill road they walked on and the critters further down.

"That is a relief, many people thought our kind demons. We tried to communicate with them at first, but they could not handle us. We accidentally drove them mad, made them fear us. We suffered greatly for this." He informed her, walking out in the sunlight without much effort. The critters were still orange, and keeping close to their own shelters due to the hot sun above. "This place is strange, broken. These humans killed all of their people too. Selfish, stupid, evil."

"The same thing happened where I'm from... Although, this place seems worse off than my home," Clara mused, "I guess we're really bad at not killing ourselves."

"I don't know why that is, it makes me sad. Most of you are not evil, you are good." He replied, Clara could feel a slight buzzing in her head as a memory was shared with the Little One. "I see, you did not scorch your world like this one and mine, but, it fell apart anyways". Hopefully her father would remain a buried topic, the memory alone might ruin whatever innocence he had left.

Clara would bring a hand to her head for a moment before turning to him, and he would be able to feel her anger despite her blank expression as she figured out what he had done. "Don't go through my head again," She ordered, not bothering with adding a threat as she resumed walking.

"Apologies, I forget that you all are so different sometimes. Our kind remember everything we have ever done. There is no barrier, unlike with you." He stated, sharing some memories just to prove that point. She could see a towering area filled with strange black vines, a sealed hermetic door, and a trio of children standing outside in the nuclear winter of Moscow. He hadn't even been born yet, still within his mother's womb. Yet he could remember it all, and experience it. "We are getting closer now, they see poorly, but feel very well. Walk softly, maybe they won't feel us."

Clara came to a stop, glancing at him before looking to the giant ants. She'd take her steps more slowly and carefully as she looked between the critters. "For future reference, I don't think anybody would want you digging through their memories... And considering what you can probably find in some people's heads, I don't think you'd want to dig through them either."

"I understand, the previous human I was with did not mind such things. I will stay away from them now." He apologized sincerely, his own form glowing blue for a brief moment. The giant ants, true to his words, didn't seem to notice them much. They would stop and wave their antennae in the desert wind, perhaps trying to investigate the slight tremors they felt. They shouldn't notice them however.

Clara was obviously relieved by this as they continued sneaking past the giant ants. She assumed by his tone and the blue aura that he felt pretty bad about offending her. "... Don't worry about it too much. I can get over it considering you're helping me," She assured.

"Thank you." He replied curtly, not wanting to dwell on the topic for too long. "I think we should head north, towards that big tower. That's where your friend is likely headed."

"That's what I figured. Apparently it's where a city called 'New Vegas' is," Clara agreed, "Given it's the most obvious landmark, I'm sure that's where Ernette would go to find me."

El Dorado Gas & Service

Slim wasn't in a good mood, firstly he hadn't gotten enough sleep. The nightmares had kept him awake that night. Secondly, he was stuck in some desert he didn't recognize, with a city nearby that didn't look like any postcard he had seen before. He could loosely ping some other hunters of the Laurie Ann, but his communicator was acting like a piece of shit and didn't want to work properly. Still, he had his cigs, his guns, and his music player. He would alternate between gliding across the dry lakebed of El Dorado, and walking. He saw a Gas-Station in the distance, it looked beat-to-shit and abandoned. Probably empty, and it might have a map. So he would continue towards it, his music blasting from a speaker around his waist.

"Haha! Came to the wrong place asshole!" He would hear from a frenzied Viper gunslinger the stepped out from behind the pole of the gas station's sign. Her armor was metallic in most parts, with spikes jutting out of the shoulderplates. She was quickly accompanied by two others of her gang, all of them immediately firing upon Slim without a second thought as they tried to claim what they thought would be an easy kill.

In contrast to their preconcieved notions, their bullets would mostly crash and bounce off his armor uselessly, although the force was making him swear loudly as each stinging shot impacted his carapace. He was going to be feeling that tommorow. He would pull out his .44 ACTHAMMER revolver and begin firing at one of the less armored raiders, while his wings flared to life and began to lift him above the ground. He'd change his course so that he would be flying just infront of the sun, it'd make aiming at him a real bitch.

True to the cowardly goons that made up most of the violent offenders in the wasteland, all it took was one kill and a terryifying presence to send the other two fleeing, losing the will to fight the instant their prey started flying. "This is hopeless!" One of them cried out despite the fight having only lasted seconds.

Shit, he was a Basilisk soldier. There couldn't be any witnesses to him murdering. He didn't need Hub on his ass even more. Still flying, he would begin to hunt down the raiders. He would pluck out the one in metal armor first, barreling down towards her with his legs extended. He was going to drive her head-first into the ground, and use the momentumn to bounce right back off before her skull completely flattened. If he succeeded, he would float towards the other raider, revolver extended. Barking at him to stop, or he would shoot.

The woman's skull would fracture, and at best she was unconscious while the last remaining Viper dropped his weapon. In his attempt to stop running, he fumbled to the ground with a terrified yelp, throwing his hands up into the air once he had landed and finished tumbling. "D-Don't shoot! Fuck! We just thought you'd be an easy hit! I'm sorry!"

"Yeah well, you thought wrong." He'd stomp closer, practically drilling the barrel of that revolver into his throat. "Now, you are going to tell me what I want to know, or this gun is going to look like a sweet memory. Now, what planet am I on? Is this world controlled by hub? Why the fuck does everything out here look like it's from the 20th century?!" All the while the strange music continued to blast from his hip-speaker.

"I-I... I...." The raider sputtered out before bursting into tears and sobbing, "I don't know what the fuck you're even talking about! A-All I know is the planet is called Earth, I think!" The man's current state contrasted greatly from his previous bravado and brashness when firing upon a seemingly hapless individual. He was pathetic in both will and knowledge.

"There's only one Earth, and this sure as shit isn't it. Clearly, I'm not in my own time or element." He stated, of course, the shithead could just be dead-wrong about everything, but Earth was practically devoid of crime and poorly educated people. Slim's gaze remained emotionless and unchanging, not that he could really move his compound eyes around. "Get the fuck out before I change my mind, I'd shave, change my name, and think about being a better damn person if I were you." He'd smack the butt of his revolver across the small of the raider's back. "I said run, run you sack of shit!" He would yell after him, firing a few shots at the ground near him just to harry him onwards.

The ex-gunslinger with blubber and scream, bolting as quickly as he could to escape Slim like his life depended on it- Which it did. Every gunshot made him practically jump in the midst of his frantic sprint. As the sobbing mess ran off in the distance, Slim would be able to hear a crash from within the gas station building, like the sound of metal crashing against wood.

Slim would approach the gas station, and gently crack the door open from the side, and seeing that noone immediately shot at the door, he would throw it open from his concealed position behind the stone wall. No traps were triggered, no clang of a grenade or the bang of a shotgun. He would step inside of the station, his leech-gun drawn as he methodically sweeped the interior. Looking for whatever raider had made the noise.

The inside of the small building was incredibly barren. Most of everything inside had been scavenged from the rusted, broken shelves- One of which laid against the floor. Dust was kicked up near it, and it was likely the source of the noise he had heard. Besides the shelves, the station also had two broken freezers that once likely contained ice cream sandwiches and the like, a crate of sunset sarsparilla, and a dark tool cabinet.

"Alright, if you're in here, show yourself. If you come out with your hands up, I won't shoot you." Slim wasn't too worried about being fired upon, given his carapace, though, he'd rather not take any chances. "Your buddies outside are dead or crying all the way back home." The objects were interesting, but other matters were more demanding of his attention.

It would be a moment before one of the doors of the tool cabinet would open. Slowly, two very small hands would poke out, trembling. A small, ten-year-old girl would step out with tears running down her cheeks from her brown eyes, Her outfit made her look like a little wildlife enthusiast with her bucket hat, vest, and camo shorts. "P-Please don't- Sh-Shoot me..." She sputtered out, too bleary-eyed to even see who she thought was going to kill her.

"Shit, of course it'd be a kid." He mumbled under his breath, chewing on his electric cigarette as he looked around the station. "Don't worry kid, I'm not going to." He stated in a soft tone, slinging his leech-gun over his back. He would squat down so as to meet her eyes better. "What's a kid like you doing out in this trash pile?"

"I-I don't know, I..." She sobbed, meagerly rubbing at her eyes with her arms, "I j-just want my s-sisters...." She would shudder in the midst of her crying, then gasp once she was finally able to lay her eyes on Slim proper, the sight of him shocking her out of her crying and her flow of tears stopping soon after.

"Lost too? Makes two of us." He'd smile weakly, moving the cigarette in his mouth around. He would have arched his brows if he still had them, but he found her gaze curious. "Never seen a basilisk soldier before?" He'd ask, knowing the answer clear and well.

She just stood there, mouth slightly agape before finally letting out a small, "... Nuh-uh..." as she shook her head. She'd slowly reach out to touch his carapice between his large eyes. To Slim, it wouldn't even feel like she was touching him at all when her fingers made impact, as if her touch was so soft out of fear of hurting him despite the fact that she was crying not even a minute ago in fear that he would kill her.

"Hmm, haven't heard of the Basilisk Wars, Bode's World, The Rebellion?" He'd hold his three-clawed hand out to her to examine as well. His carapace was smooth and slick, with a waxy coating that was incredibly hard to budge from his chitin. He smelt faintly of coconut as well. "I take it you're a bug-hunter, got the little bucket hat and everything."

"N-Not a hunter," She would quickly reply, though still in awe of Slim's very existence as she stared directly into his compound eyes, her pupils darting slightly as she took in every little detail and forgot how awkward he may or may not have felt from all her gawking, "I wouldn't wanna kill a bug..."

"Ah I see, an entomologist in the making, though, could you not stare directly into me? Making me feel like i'm under a microscope here." He'd state, getting back up from his standing position. "So, you want to meet your sisters again if I recall correctly. Do you know where they are?"

After apologizing for her staring, she would look down to the ground for a moment in thought before looking back up to Slim and shaking her head. "No, I... I just showed up here... I was gonna go outside, but... I was too scared to," She murmured.

"I can help you find them I guess, got nothing better to do out here." He'd gently poke at her shoulder. "You got good intuition, there were some bad people outside." Slim would stretch his limbs, his wings fluttering behind him and generating a small burst of lift. "Don't worry, I'll make sure they don't hurt you."

She looked on in awe for a brief moment before shaking her head and smiling up to Slim with a gracious, "Thank you!... Um... W-What's your name? I'm Casey!"

"Name's Slim, think it used to be Alex. I don't remember too much kid." He'd smile back to her, although it was more a smirk than anything. He'd hold the door open for her, idly reloading his revolver while he waited for her to pass through.

"Are you really old?" She innocently asked as she walked through the door, briefly glancing at the corpses around before looking back at him without a single care for the two dead bodies.

"Can't remember, not that old I don't think. We don't really age, not any more. Guess it doesn't matter, don't have anyone around who'd care." He'd state glumly, finding her reaction to the corpses odd. Maybe she had a rough childhood where she was from? Who was he to judge, he'd been indifferent to far worse shit. "Think I saw smoke up this way." He'd wave his revolver in the direction of the 188 Trading Post. "Maybe we'll get directions." He'd fiddle with the speaker on his hip, changing it to Sandman by America.

Old Mormon Fort

Leerah was currently slumped over herself in a chair near Julie Farkas's tower/quarters, taking a catnap. Her heavy sword lay leaned against her torso, and her metal-bound book opened to a page 3/4ths the way through.

Thanks to her aid, the Old Mormon Fort was less busy than it ever had been within the past few months. The most severe and resource-intensive patients had been magically healed, and those resources were able to be more widely distributed to cases of less importance. In addition, Phillip had managed to wrangle some local addicts back to the Followers of the Apocalypse upon Julie's request shortly after the paladin went to rest. While many at the camp were eager to learn the secrets of Leerah's abilities, they respected her need for a nap after what she had done.

Phillip, once finished with his minor quest, had taken a seat close to the paladin as he fiddled with a stimpak, inspecting it with curiosity as he hummed a somber tune (Likely religious in nature) and waited for her to awake. While he did, of course, genuinely want to understand the stimpak a bit better, his mind was clearly elsewhere as his gaze over the device was glossing and broad.

Leerah would stir, closing the book she had open as her eyes fluttered open lazily. She would yawn deeply, but given her feline morphology it came out more as a low growl than a yawn. She'd lazily look up towards the sky and down to the fort, trying to get a bead on how long she had slept for. Not that it mattered much, she didn't have any outstanding obligations this far out from home. She'd gaze over to Phillip, muttering out "hi," as she stretched in her chair.

The moon was only beginning to show itself, so it hadn't been too long of a nap. "Hm? Oh, you're awake," Phillip hummed before nudging a bottle of water with his armored foot towards Leerah, "I figured you would be thirsty." He didn't look up from the stimpak. It seemed more of a channel for his thoughts rather than an object he was really inspecting.

"Hmm, thank you." She stated, bending down to take up the bottle from her own armored foot. She'd uncap the bottle and swiftly down the entire thing in a single continous gulp. She would lay it on the ground next to her seat before turning back to Phillip. "You seem to be very interested in that needle." She pointed out.

"They call it a 'stimpak'," He explained, sighing as he handed it over to her, "It helps to heal wounds, though it had its limitations." His tone was notably grim in relation to his usually booming, deep voice. His demeanor as well was off, shoulders slumped in a very un-crusader fashion.

"You're sounding like a Gilnean, why the downer mood?" Leerah asked, noting his slumped and defeated posture and the obvious tonal change. She'd thumb with the stimpack, observing it and running her hands over it.

"... I do not believe my comrades are in this world," He answered, his hands clasped together, "While you were resting, I carried out a small task for Farkas. Along the way, I questioned locals, asked them if they had seen anything that would indicate at least one of them were here- Even one of our enemies. It may seem silly to so quickly judge they are not here given they are but individuals in a large city and an even larger desert... But they had their ways of... Leaving an 'impact' wherever they went. There has been no such impact here. If past trends hold true, then... I may not see them for... A very long time."

"I think much the same, none of the buildings here match any I know of on my world. There are few deserts, and none look like this either. If they did not come along with you, perhaps they are safe and secure in their own? Away from the hardships we must face?" Leerah countered. "If we were placed here, perhaps others were placed elsewhere. They will surely find their way to this area, given the blinding lights I can see even from here." She would shift in here seat. "It is best not to worry about things beyond your control."

"Indeed... But I cannot help but worry," Phillip muttered, "When I was pulled to this universe, we were in the capital of one of our enemies' lands. We were to help liberate the people there from a duo of tyrants... But we were already going up against great odds as it was... Not only that... But one of my friends was missing... I was supposed to find her after we were finished, but now... I can only pray she is safe."

"Prayer is the only remedy I'm afraid, if you have met before perhaps you shall meet again." Her eyebrow would arch at the mention of her gender, and it took her a moment to process the thought. "I see, this woman was close to you. You felt attraction to her perhaps?"

The crusader was silent for a moment, having not looked up from his plated hands since he nudged Leerah her water. He recalled how abruptly Byakuren had decided to call off any romance in their relationship, though remaining friendly shortly before her disappearance. She could not have simply left, not without her close friends that were practically family to her. Given the goosechase he was sent on to find Byakuren that eventually lead him to flying to the moon, he could tell something was up. There was some external factor at play. Something had happened to her.

Finally, he would answer with a somber, "Yes... I did, and I do."

Leerah would slowly nod her head, gazing up to the stars above. "I wish I could offer some shared experience, but I have never had to deal with such a thing. I am sorry that you went through such a thing, noone deserves to lose those they love." She spoke from the heart. "Closest thing that happened to me was the land that I called home toppled to ruins."

"... Life... For some... Can be a gauntlet at times," Phillip spoke slowly, "The Lord gives and takes, and will put some through rigorous tests of faith. We will anguish, we will cry, and we will question why He does such things. Why He would create a life full of strife... You criticized Him before, called Him petty and cruel for such things... I have faith that ultimately He is all good, and that his grand plan is therefore good as well... But I cannot give you a rebuttal you will ever accept... Because the Lord works in mysterious ways... And I may never truly understand why He does what He does."

"I do not see why you needed to repen an old argument. I have told you we disagree and it should be left at that. It's clear that you're no convert, and that I will never forsake the light." Leerah offered a swift reprisal for his words, but her tone was not sharp or dismissive.

"I know..." The Crusader nodded with a sigh, "It was more of me... Thinking out loud..."

It was then that the distinct sound of loud metal footsteps against pavement and sirt could be heard, along with the whirring and clanking of gears, cogs and other various mechanical machinery outside of the Fort's doors. Near the gate into Freeside.

Phillip would slowly look up, listening to the noise before rising from his seat. "Come. We should probably investigate what is going on," He suggested, dropping the topic as he held a hand to his sword's hilt and looked to the saberon.

Leerah would step up from her seat, letting out a low growl as she stretched her muscles out before walking over towards the doors of the fort. Just in time, as they were suddenly pushed open by a large metal hand. Revealing the tree-sized PASCAL-K1N6, before the robot stooped inside. "Hello, analysis of internal geographical databases has determined no significant relationship to this area. Are you a hostile entity?" It spoke in a loud, clearly artificial voice.

Phillip took a step back at the large machine that had entered the Fort. Guards of the Followers raised their firearms to it, and the Crusader was quick to speak on the Fort's behalf, "No, we are not hostile. This is a camp of doctors. Who are you?" His hand did not leave the hilt of his blade, and he was noticeably tense in spite of his posture.

"I am PASCAL-K1N6, an artificial intelligence designed to resolve engineering problems through producing hypothetically impressive blueprints. Would you happen to know where I am?" The robot spoke plainly, not showing any heed to the guards or Phillip.

Leerah didn't look as tense. "It's a mechagon robot, I recognize the handiwork. He's not a threat, intentionally at least."

Phillip relaxed, trusting the paladin's judgement. He looked to her, then back to the 'mechagon'. "You are in the 'Old Mormon Fort' within the city of New Vegas. You are not in your native universe anymore." Given that Leerah had not been in a Clash prior, yet recognized the type of machine that stood before them, it was obvious it came from her universe.

"Processing." Pascal would state, standing in place with the only sound being the grinding of its own gears. "Statement corroborates with current data. I have now entered limited-use functionality for non-authorized users." He whirred, stepping further into the fort.

Leerah would look up to the machine, and down at Phillip. "I am unsure of what to do, or what anyone should do. I have not interacted with many gnomes or their machines."

"I have some experience in dealing with robots, though he was much more... Cognizant. It comes across as more automaton," Phillip mused, putting a hand to the 'chin' of his helmet, "It called us 'non-authorized users'. Perhaps there is some way of gaining authorization, or at the very least, persuading it to accompany us wherever we go. Machines tend to be great assets in battle."

Pascal overheard the conversation. "I am no automaton, I am a fully-aware and sentient machine, my analytical blueprint creation function has restricted access to non-authorized users. Authorization can be granted upon a list of parameters being met."

"Oh, I sincerely apologize for the assumption of your lack of sapience then," The crusader was quick to reply, "I should not have judged you as such simply because you do not speak as casually as we do." He was completely oblivious to the irony in him, of all people, talking about speaking 'casually'.

"My creators and people take great pride in speaking mechanically. No harm was recieved." Pascal stated bluntly, he looked to the guards of the Followers. "Please lower your firearms, they lack the capacity to harm my chasis and could cause dangerous richochet."

Given the relatively peaceful entrance of the machine and the conversation it had with the Fort's recent celebrities (Especially Leerah), the guards were inclined to do as he requested. They would sloly lower their weapons, but kept their eyes on Pascal.

"Well, I am glad to not have caused offense," Phillip said with a smile beneath his helmet after glancing to the guards, then back to Pascal, "So what are these parameters you mentioned?"

"You are not authorized to know those parameters. They will be determined upon the aquiesence of new data regarding unauthorized users." He replied swiftly.

"Fair enough. Forgive my lack of manners in not introducing myself earlier. I am Phillip Milly, and this is Leerah Brightmane," The crusader gestured to himself and the saberon respectively, "We are similar to you in that we are not native to this universe either."

The robot would wave at both Phillip and Leerah, with the Saberon returning the wave as well. "That is interesting, both of you non-native to this world. Are we the only ones?"

"Not likely. There are usually many others who have been taken from their worlds and collectively brought into a new one. I know a few are meandering about this very city, and there may be more outside of it," Phillip answered.

"I eagarly await data-collection and analysis, hypothetical tracking and locating blueprints are avaliable for your viewing." He'd state, an interface popping open on his legs.

Long 15, near Nellis AFB

Xarn wandered along the dusty road as he moved south towards Vegas, with olive-drab combat armor strapped to his body, a blue bandanna wrapped around his neck, and several 'don't shoot' signs strapped around his body at various points. Some cloth and leather bags/satchels were tied around his body, and a heavy bren LMG was strapped across his back, a 12.7mm pistol was also holstered around his waist along with a plasma rifle, which was more of an SMG to him. He was currently listening a small radio he had strapped on his broad shoulder, tuned to the Mojave Music Radio station.


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Post by Infested on Sat Dec 07, 2019 5:41 pm

Camp McCarran

Armstrong frowned upon seeing the flag of the converted airfield wasn’t even the US's own. "Of all the states they could have chosen to emulate... you chose California?" He murmured to himself, before walking forwards and glaring at the ziggurat inside. The commotion of the troopers around it signaled to Armstrong that it certainly was not a normal thing. The ziggurat itself looked somewhat odd (even more than just being a Mesopotamian-esque temple), appearing in places along its sides that it had been ripped from an even larger structure before being placed there.

"Helluva place you’ve made it, then," the senator mused as he looked back to the two troopers, "Tell me, boys. How about you get me a word with the man in command around here, then? A fair exchange for no ride back to the capital, eh?" He placed a hand on either trooper's adjacent shoulder as they faced away, putting some force into his grip to show his seriousness about the preposition. "Won’t be a problem, now will it?"


Bob wouldn’t hesitate, lowering himself down and taking a sip of the bighorner stew. He savored it for a moment, giving a content hum as he swallowed. "Well, even if it’s simple, I think you did a good job on it," he complimented, "I wonder what you could do with whatever spices you got around here."

Long 15

Ahead of Xarn, a humanoid avian stood in the middle of the road, standing in the direction away from the Deathclaw. He appeared to be wearing a drab grey uniform similar to that of a captain's uniform of archaic military service. He appeared to fumble with a pen and notebook, quickly jotting some notes before taking notice of the footfalls made by Xarn. The Aoshanti turned around quickly, stuffing his small ledger back into a pocket as he took a defensive stance, glaring at the Deathclaw. However, the oddness of Xarn's appearance, as well as the numerous "Don’t shoot" signs across him, made the avian lower his hands and relax his posture.

"...I apologize for the harsh greeting," he sighed, "This land is simply odd, and I have not met your kind before now. Greetings must be in order." He took a bow before the reptilian mutant, "I am Tomat Beral, founder and lead officer of the New Throneborne," he greeted with a chitter of the mandibles around his beak, "It is a pleasure to meet you."


Tychen would hesitate only for a moment at the sudden influx of irradiated men-turned-monsters. One moment was all he would need to grab his rapier and pull it from its sheath at his side, revealing its wholly black blade, a vague aura of darkness surrounding the air directly around it, fixed upon a hilt adorned with unnatural and alien regalia. One moment would be all he needed to assess his situation and choose his targets wisely.

The next few moments would be but a deadly blur. The pirate slung himself forwards in a manner that would seem unnatural for a human, lunging forwards and impaling the glowing trooper on his blade, before twisting it upwards, slicing the ghoul's body in half upwards from where he had stabbed it. He was silent- there was no need for witticisms or showing off with slow and inefficient flair against a bunch of mindless braindead monsters. He would then throw his foot back, kicking one of the trooper's in the jaw and forcing him to the ground; he had an order to who he was getting to, and he was not the next in line. In a sort of crude pirouette, Tychen swiveled about to the next ghoul, plunging his rapier straight through the monster's eye socket, a soft crack as it passed through the back of its head, before the pirate used the grip he had to push the ghoul into another, toppling them and letting him cut into the one that had been thrown back. In the split second before the next trooper ghoul had reached him, Tychen yanked his blade from the head of the deceased enemy and quickly sunk it downwards into the chest of the ghoul he had kicked over, before swiveling about again and slashing upwards, vivisecting the last of the troopers within his general area.

Tychen maintained an alert posture as he knew there were several other feral ghouls heading his way, and quickly moved to meet the three zombie-like beings, making short work of two of them with a single forceful jab, penetrating the head of the first and stabbing right through the heart of the second. He glared at the third, and decided not to attack with his rapier, his show-boatmanship beginning to show itself as he instead snatched the ghoul by the throat, quickly holding it up above the ground with a strength not visibly found in his thin posture.

The air grew black around Tychen and some of the more intact ghoul corpses, as said blackness began to proliferate around the ghoul in the necromancer's grasp, draining the life out of it and instead replacing it with the void controlled by Tychen. He dropped the ghoul, letting its body fall limp to the ground as he sighed, "They’re a pathetic bunch, but they’ll do for now."

With some force, three of the seven ghoul troopers rose up, their movements far less erratic than before, their eyes and veins filled with inky blackness. The fleet-dynast hummed as he looked over his three new minions for a moment, before waving his hand. At his silent command, the three ghouls would begin to loot whatever valuables were on their still-dead comrades, albeit with limited speed. Meanwhile, Tychen quickly took towards the overpass. Even if he was himself, they’d more than likely not shoot him if they saw him help them out of their precarious situation, right?

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Post by TheRandomRingmaster on Sat Dec 07, 2019 7:45 pm

In a section of time and space where mystical forces and whimisscal-isms were as commonplace as helium, there lay a planet. Terrestrial,bloomed with an oxygen rich atmosphere,teeming in races of may sizes and shape,forms and intelligence. Now this world could be likened to many others in regard,Middle-Earth,Narnia,or any otherworldy world of scale or scope,however this world was different in the fact it,among other inhabitants it possessed a certain Individual,and that was Gordan.

“Any chance you might…..endeavor the thought of letting me,path along unmessed?”

Gordan Farmherst,was for most intensive purposes an average sort of person,a network of mammalian cells forming a macro organism,his head however seemed(for a reason unknown) to be an dark green animate vegtable,specifically a gourd. perched on his neck where a head of flesh would be expected to be.

Triangular indentations seemed to be carved into the area above the growth on the gourd roughly resembling a nose, under that a thin cut line.

This seemed to serve as a mouth as when Gordan spoke it contorted a way to match his words.

He stood before a fence that beyond which lay a forest full of tangible and intangible dangers,the large bloated, dog-sized tick covered in shaggy orange fur,cannibalistic witches,fae,will-o-wisps, to name a few.

The forrest nymph Gordan was addressing smirked,”Not a chance, thine wilst be mine.

Gordan considered that would have sounded only mildly creepy,and maybe a little sweet. if the very same dryad had not tried to seal him in a tree in the past.

“Alright” Gordan went back into his cottage and returned with a saucer full of blood, he placed it at the ground on his side of the fence and nudged it with his feet under to the other side.

The tabby tick lapped up the blood, as Gordan began to do stretches,limbering his joints and limbs,before reaching down to touch his toes.

Straightening up,he took a deep breath and clasped his gloved hands together,before unfurling them, gently opening the gate and gave a blood curdling scream,before bolting outward,as his arms pinwheeled about.


Gordan Farmherst appeared screaming, as he barrelled into the camp, quickly stopping and doing a double take, freezing in a frenzied pose and slowly lowering his arms.

“Sorry...my apologies!” he called out to the NCR personnel, For the very briefest of moments I could have sworn this was a forest of ill intent,I see now its,um,not that”. Gordan said quite embarrassed.

Clubs Deuce

The rather diminutive figure pushed a large chunk of rubble that had fallen on him off of himself, he brushed off his coat with his three-fingered hands.

Seemingly undeterred by all the damage Clubs walked over to the Bison Steve Hotel, adjusted the very visible mine under his hat and stepped inside.

“Are you kidding me, I’m third below a vegetable head and a chess person?!”The toon complained allowed as he smashed a bottle against the counter

“You’ve lost Karma!”
Slapstick glared at the devil Vault boy icon in the corner and hucked the remainders of the bottle at it, hitting it and causing it to give a shocked expression, then faded away.

The hero tipped his head and hit outside of it with the flat of his hand, causing a flurry of caps to spill out from the other end, onto the counter.

Slapstick flopped to the floor and dragged himself out the exit,,his mallet in his hand dragging forlornly on the ground behind him.[/i]

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Post by SpongeBobRocks23 on Sun Dec 08, 2019 12:52 pm

The Goose
He had fallen right into his trap. This 16th Century Beefcake has no idea what was about to unfold.

The Goose thought this to himself exactly as Culitt proceeded to make a mad dash towards it, and in response, the Goose let out a similarly war-like, long goose honk as it dashed towards the brute.

The two would draw closer and closer, until finally the Goose found himself in enough proximity within Culitt to make his first move. Abruptly, he spread his wings, leaped up into the air and zoomed past Culitt. From here, he threw the stick towards Emma, giving her a weapon to combat the armored figure. From here it would land not too near the red hued woman, honking at Culitt again in a mocking manner and running away, looking back occasionally and letting out a shorter, yet still irritatingly teasing honk.

Bendy and Woodman
“ive been in here for only a while and ive only got my ass fucked over. not nice >:[”

Woodman stood in the middle of the town of Goodsprings, previously losing track of the cartoon demon that set his mouth ablaze moments ago, and thus is using the time he has now to catch his breath...or at least the amount of breath he has left that hasn't been eviscerated by heat. “shit that dudes fast as hell. whered he go” breathed Woodman, hands on his knees, still spewing a bit of firing on the ground as he was trying to gain his bearings. After a bit he looked up, noticing the Prospector Saloon, and more importantly a particularly cartoony leg poking out from the entrance. He squinted in annoyance, then marched into the Saloon.

As he entered the establishment, he looked around to see no Bendy in sight. He had lost him yet again. “dang” cursed Woodman. “Hey buddy.” rasped a man, cloaked in a dirty towel sitting in one of the tables of Saloon. Woodman turned towards the elderly figure. “If ya lookin for dat demon fella, he went dat-a-ways.” he spoke, pointing back outside towards the Cemetery. “nice. thanks old dude” thanked Woodman, walking back out the door. The elderly man then unrobed himself, revealed to be the aforementioned demon fella in disguise. “Works everytime!” beamed the cartoon, giggling to himself.

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Post by megaman177 on Wed Dec 11, 2019 7:53 pm

Culitt Belidd

The Lich's rampaging stampede was cut short as the Goose outmanoeuvred him, speeding past and sending him stumbling off of his metal legs onto the ground. Culitt growled and pounded a fist onto the sand underneath him, grunting in pure frustration and twirling about until his glare set upon Emma once more.

Coughing up sand, Culitt exit from his staggered kneel and stood tall. He cast his gaze on Emma, and then the Goose, as-if contemplating who was most worthy of having his murderous temper exerted upon. "Oh, the agony of choice, Tenno. I always preferred it when I just had one... 'friend'."

Peering at Emma, his line of thought quickly trailed off to violently ripping apart the Goose as his rotting ears were overrun by the sound of honking. His neck quivering and cocking in rage to stare at the Goose, Culitt seethed at the honking menace.

"Oh no you don't!" Culitt roared after the bird, acknowledging its escape attempt. He burst into a steady although purposeful march towards his ornithological antagonist, leaving Emma with her precious stick.

The Grineer clenched his fists, his armoured body boiling and radiating. He steadily lifted his right fist, glowing vigorously and viciously with green light. He then opened his hand, exposing a roaring, plasma-fuelled fire. Culitt yelled and threw his hand in the Goose's direction, releasing this as a projectile.

The meteor of fire sped towards the Goose, leaving the bird a narrow window to trick its way out of matters.

Long 15

Philip II inquisitively strolled the derelict Long 15, trudging elusively through its derelicts. He kept to the side-path, unwilling to expose his royal countenance to any would-be infidels, for fear he would be alone and vulnerable against them.

The king perched a hand upon the handle of his rapier, never losing his grandiose air despite the fact he deliberately didn't want to be seen. Lifting his nose, he contemplated the strange surroundings he found himself in. Only moments ago he had been in El Escorial, bearing the latest news of his failed naval conquests and ailing from age. Now, although his whereabouts were significantly less regal, he was renewed with a youthful and cancer-free body. This, he thought, was undoubtedly the Lord's blessing for his pious ways.

The Spanish king put his hands together, gazing at the polluted sky dreamily. "Thank thee, Lord, for thine blessings." he thought to himself, absorbed in prayer. "In your name, I am most grateful. I beseech of thee, thy Lord, rid me of what evils lurk unto my..."

Philip became so absorbed in his holy enquiry that he began to disregard the world around him, blindly marching forwards. Such was the extent of this, he unwittingly approached Xarn and his avian compatriot, not realising their presence. He continued to walk detached from reality until he collided with Xarn from behind.

Philip immediately yelped as he fell back onto his bottom, landing on the filthy ground. He instinctively, rapidly began brushing himself off with a look of thorough disdain, elegantly but furiously picking the grit out of his puffy shoulders and chest-plate. Philip was so preoccupied with this, it took him several moments to realise whom he had collided with: he spied Xarn's enormous nine-foot body with pure dread, slowly raising his head in horror at the creature before him.

Philip's response was to begin ranting Spanish curses, bum-shuffling backwards as fast as possible to make some distance between himself and Xarn. Spying the signs on the Deathclaw's body, he could recognise the English font. Acknowledging this, the Spanish regal got to his feet and stood imposingly (as imposing as you could get against a nine-foot beast), drawing his rapier and pointing it at Xarn with a look of thorough aggression. His scrutinising gaze turned to the Aoshanti nearby, causing him to alternate pointing his sword between either of them at a time.

"Ah, yes. I see England has walked the path of Judas by affiliating demons with its ranks." Philip declared, in his piercing Spanish accent. He chuckled, making the sign of the cross with his rapier before twisting it back into a defensive posture. "No matter. In the name of Spain, and of the Lord, I shall vanquish this evil."

Philip's elegant countenance broke as he began roaring barbarically. In this moment, he decided it was probably better to pick on the Aoshanti rather than the nine-foot Deathclaw, twirling around and charging vigorously after the bird creature. He lunged, attempting to drive his blade straight into their chest before tripping over Xarn's foot. The king fell to the ground once more, face-first, cutting a finger on his sword as he descended.

Philip curled back up, sat on the ground, and began howling in pain. He desperately tried to hold back tears and maintain his charisma as he wrapped a hand around his bleeding finger, hissing in anguish and occasionally sucking it. By this point, Philip had forgotten about Xarn and the Aoshanti's presence.

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Post by AestheticMonkey on Wed Dec 11, 2019 8:19 pm

A collab between Aeth and H:

Long 15

"Hello Tomato, I am Xarn. I too am important in imaginary places." The deathclaw replied, having not heard the bird-insect fully over the sound of his radio which he was currently dialing down to a manageable level.

"The name is Tomat," he corrected with an annoyed expression which faded soon after, "But regardless, it is a pleasure to meet you... do you know what where we might be? I appear to have gotten lost or... otherwise stuck in unknown lands."

"If I remember the signs correctly we are in Nevada on the Long 15. That is New Vegas." He stated, pointing to the large, visible metropolis in the distance. He would then look over towards Nellis AFB. "That is the home of alot of people with alot of guns who aren't afraid to fire them at you for getting near. Big guns too. Real guns."

"Stalwart isolationists, I assume?" Tomat inquired as he looked to where the Deathclaw pointed with intrigue, "There must be a way past their defenses. There always is in combat."

"I heard they'll let you talk if you approach slowly with no weapons drawn." He lied.

"I know not of who lives there, but even I can tell a lie that blatant," the Aoshanti huffed, "But anyhow. What of this 'New Vegas'? And you said the world we are on is... Nevada?"

"I only know this place is Nevada towards the southern end, and that New Vegas is a big city with alot of gambling, drugs, sex and arms dealing. I don't care for the first three." Xarn clarified. "Also, I did not lie."

"I am sure you didn't," Tomat mused humorlessly, before looking to New Vegas, "...It may be a place of hedonistic pleasures, but it looks to be the center of operations in the territory. What kind of presence should I expect were I to go there? Karian? Aoshanti? Any of the peoples I may know?"

"I do not think you will have to worry about comic-book aliens, it's just humans, some that look like burnt steak, and even big green ones. They're all very short and weak... except for the green ones. They're the attractive ones." He'd continue walking with the strange alien. "There's some other people there. NCR, bunch of soldiers, apparantly they do good, haven't been around them. Then across the river out East is some people called Caesar's Legion. They like to galavant around the desert in skirts, throw javelins at people, and put babies into people, usually with force. They are also horrifying to look at, no sense of fashion."

Tomat was quick to begin scribbling in many notes about what Xarn had explained, from the people to the places to his detailed examinations of the two factions. "Interesting, interesting. Is there anything more you know about the... savages in the Legion?"

"Apparantly they like non-humans even less than other humans. They also take alot of slaves, met some of them, they beat the fear out of them I think."

"Savages and slavers... I doubt they will be much an issue to me. I can think of ways that I may bypass the... natural intolerance of other races. How much do you know of who they fight, this... NCR, I assume?" Tomat asked, still taking notes, "And if you say that the Caesar's Legion are as you say, then it is safe to deduce that the NCR is more militarily capable in standardized modern warfare. Am I correct?"

"Yeah, they use alot of guns and all that. They're uh, a real big fan of expanding and expanding fast from what I heard. Got spirit, and nothing to eat. Not alot of gear either because they're so spread. They're ok I guess, when they don't shoot at me."

"They'll be an interesting subject of my work, regardless, then," Tomat hummed as he continued to hurriedly, "Say, do you have any spare maps or anything I could replicate fairly quickly? I need a simple lay of the land, for now at least."

Xarn would reach down into his pack, and rummage around with one hand muttering to himself before pulling out a folding road map. "This one I don't need, it's faded though, might have to squint. I don't know though, my kind don't see well according to others."

"It will be well enough to work from," Tomat agreed as he took the map, "And you say the Legion is situated across the river here?" He pointed to the Colorado River on the roadmap.

"Yes, all along there. There's alot here, or so I've been told." Xarn would state, pressing his claw on top of Fortification Hill. Then dragging it all along the East. "They can cross the river, so that whole area is raiding turf. I'm not too worried about them."

"Neither am I," Tomat agreed as he nodded along, "Im more interested in them than anything else. They seem... malleable, almost. Like most humans- or most people in general. But the Legion... I see something in it I cannot put my finger on. Do you know anything more about them? Their leaders? The extent of their power against the NCR?"

"I've heard they're led by a person name Caesar, or Kaiser. I think Kaisar sounds cooler, but it's probably made up. Apparantly they're not very strong, but they have alot of people to throw away. If the NCR wasn't stretched, I don't think it would be a fight." Xarn and Tomat were approaching North-Vegas now, and before long they would start to see people. Or rather people would spot the deathclaw roaming about and probably duck for cover.

"They keep their enemy stretched wide and thin to poke holes through its defenses and continue to weaken it," Tomat deduced as he looked to one of the humans with a sort of annoyed look across his avian expression. "Look at him, living in this squalor and wearing rags. Yet they live under the protection of the good, thin-spread NCR?"

"This isn't NCR turf, they're here but it's not... owned? Out west it's alot nicer or so I've heard. Aside from Mr.House and some NCR-held places it's independant." Xarn clarified. He would wave at an individual, who aside from doing a double-take scrambled behind a crumbled storefront.

"So it's an anarchic territory?" Tomat pondered as he wrote down what he heard, "So the NCR lacks the ability to properly administrate the area. And who is... Mr. House?"

"Sort of, they're here but it's not yet their turf. Mr. House owns the Vegas Strip, and sort of the whole Mojave by association. I don't know much about him, nor does anyone else really. Likes to use robots from what I've heard." Xarn clarified.

"Machines are useful to an extent," Tomat surmised as he put away his ledger before looking to Xarn and asking, "This has all been terribly useful information, and I thank you for that. I must just ask you but one more thing, if that is alright."

"Alright ask away, do get behind me. People might shoot at me, and you do not look as bulletproof, with how weak and skinny you are." Xarn commented, his head turning over towards North Vegas. He was quite a sight to the locals. He hoped they wouldn't shoot, he didn't like returning fire. Felt unfair, with how little humans could handle.

"Aoshanti can handle themselves," Tomat assured with a huff, "Size is not everything. Tactics and prowess can make up for any sort of difference. What I was going to ask was... what are you?" He looked Xarn over, "I've never seen your species before across my journeys in the Old Core."

"Sure, you will outsmart the bullet and trick it into hitting your enemies instead." Xarn stated in a serious tone, but the mocking joke still shone through. "People call us Deathclaws... I think it fitting and unimaginative at the same time. Those people should not be allowed to name anything anymore. Most of my kind are really stupid. I'm different, and so are some others. Way out west, I know a brother of mine is still alive last I heard. Don't know about the other survivors." He'd look down at the Aoshanti. "You are horrifying to look at, like a bird mated vigorously with an insect."

"The Aoshanti are some of the finest beings in the galaxy, I will let you know," the avian's eyes scowled at the mutant, "Our species used to rule the breadth of the entirety of Aoshtai."

"Finest? Maybe to a cazador." He'd nod down at the alien. Before he was so rudely interrupted by Phillip II bumping into him from behind. Xarn was so caught up in his conversation with Tomat that he failed to notice the human approaching from behind. It's a rare thing to see a full-grown deathclaw be scared of something, but Xarn nearly leapt out of his skin. Letting out a startled howl as he jumped forward a few feet, before swiveling around on all fours to face Phillip.

"The hell is an England?"He'd mutter, before the roaring, charging royal tripped on Xarn's foot. The mutant barely budging as he stared down at the man blankly for a few moments. He'd stay silent, his mouth curling before her broke out into boisterous, loud laughter that echoed through North Vegas. "YOU MUST BE SO EMBARRASSED!" He howled in laughter, setting a clawed foot down upon his back.


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Post by megaman177 on Thu Dec 12, 2019 6:24 pm

Long 15

Philip II was vigorously nursing his wounded finger, completely absorbed in this noble task when he heard he only slightly so raspy laughter of the Deathclaw he had just encountered. Looking around briefly to locate the origin of this noise, his eyes (that were still wet from pain) set upon Xarn.

Philip furrowed his brow and flapped a discourteous hand at the Deathclaw, still prone on the ground. Philip's disdain transformed into terror as the beast lay a foot on him, evoking a terrified cry from the king as he desperately began grasping at this appendage in a futile attempt to remove it.

As the royal proceeded to screech and grimace in pure fear, a sudden look of fierce rationale crossed his reddening face. Philip ceased desperately flapping at Xarn and glared with death at the Deathclaw's beady red eyes, meeting his horned countenance with a one-of-a-kind royal determination and pious anger. "You, of all blasphemers should know the dread name of England!" the King exclaimed in response, pointing a furious finger at Xarn. "I know no embarrassment under the grace of God!"

Philip creased and writhed underneath Xarn's foot. "I command you..." he began, his face creasing and growing ever sweatier. "...as king of Spain, Portugal, Sardinia and Sicily, and as-well as the anointed servant of the Lord, to cease this disrespect and remove your foul digits from my person." He looked down at Xarn's taloned foot and batted it rudely with the back of his hand as a demonstration. "Resume your vile, Satanic, English antics and you shall pay dearly."

Philip glanced around cunningly, briefly glaring at the Aoshanti nearby before settling his eyes on his own rapier, which lurked only a few inches out of his reach while he lie incapacitated.

A distinctly evil, devilishly cruel grin began to rise upon the King's face, as he pulled his sword within his palm's reach with his fingers. Seizing his blade in his free arm, his sinister glare twisted to look Xarn in the eye.

A slight clumsiness then shone on Philip's face, with him chuckling dumbly and cheesily grinning from ear-to-ear. This very suddenly dissipated as he swung his rapier sideways at Xarn's ankle, roaring with pious anger.

Freeside North Gate

A slow-moving torrent of radio waves snaked invisibly across the wasteland, venturing towards the trussed Freeside North Gate. With a distinctly unnatural guidance, this energy began to condense on the roof of the gate, causing the metal to vibrate for a few seconds.

A subtle, although definitely noticeable dread began to cast across the gate. The wasteland ambience seemed to drain into silence, with whatever colour the shabby paint of the gate and the sand of the wasteland had desaturating considerably. A tightness seemed to fill the air, which grew more and more until an iridescent, pitch-white tendril began to worm out of the ceiling of the gate.

This small, although malignant growth extended an inch, quivering unnaturally as it entwined itself onto the aged metal of the gate. The loose tip of this tendril wrapped itself with tiny, fluorescent red veins before flourishing into a bud reminiscent of a flower.

The luminous flesh of the tiny bud began to quiver and tear, breaking open into petals. A bloodshot, hominid eye appeared in the centre of the petals, scanning its drab surroundings as driplets of red fluid trickled out from it onto the metalwork of the gate.

A tiny groaning noise emanated from Ginomai's appendage as its eye rolled, trying to cough up the blood-like fluid obstructing its vision. It blinked and writhed about, attempting to get a bearing on its surroundings.

Ginomai felt a terrible hunger welling.

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Post by TheRandomRingmaster on Tue Dec 17, 2019 10:30 pm

By Jawsie St.James and Zanthony

Vaguely Somewhere

Slapstick dragged himself along a hot, torn road, his hair smoldering noticeably like a slow-burning tumble weed.

Not seeming to care and/or notice, Slapstick tripped over the weeping form of one of the clashes most embittered vetrans.

The miserable grumbling was quickly cut off. Without even thinking, Melissa reared her fist back, ready to pummel whoever had just tripped over her with a furious, "WHAT THE FUCK-" Before stopping herself. She blinked, hoping that it may have been Youmu. Quickly, however, she realized it was just Slapstick. Seeing as how her hopes were so quickly brougt up and dashed, she followed through with her punch. With rage only she could muster up, Melissa threw her fist into the cartoonish man's neck with a furious scream.

Slapstick's neck cracked like a glowstick before bending backwards on the broken joint. Slapstick's eyes were sizzling like eggs; he casually flipped them over on his face, making more sizzling sounds.

"Melissa?" He asked, turning his body around and cracking his head back into place, "What brings you to this side of...desert?"

"FUCK OFF! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" She eloquently roared in response, wildly throwing her hand to the side in gesturing for Slapstick to leave her alone. Of course, this wasn't her typical Melissa-brand rage. There was obviously genuine emotion behind it.

Slapstick's mind reeled as he tried to recall what was so terrible to warrent this reaction,granted there was a few examples, but they had happened quite some time ago, Slapstick calmly took out a beach umbrella and opened it placing it on the ground at Melissa's feet.

"No use suffering....in discomfort anyway" Slapstick said, sitting down next to her before putting his head in his oversized hands as his form began to fizzle into different iterations of himself.

Melissa glanced between him and the umbrella for a moment before quickly shaking her head, grabbing the umbrella, and snapping it in half before smacking Slapstick with it. "Get this fucking shit out of here! Just go! Why the fuck won't you leave me alone?!"

Slapstick sighed, "Because even a halfway decent hero like me knows you're hurting, and despite the fact that we're- what?" Slapstick considered, "Poor aquantices at best- it ain't right for you to suffer alone."

"I think I'm finally starting to get why you hate all this so much,".Slapstick mumbled.

"Oh really? Yeah, no fucking shit! It took you long enough! Now fucking go. I'd rather be alone than put up with your bullshit! Just fucking leave! Go! Get out of here! Why are you assholes always so fucking insistent!? I fucking scream at you! I fucking hit you! And you're still fucking here!"

"I'd rather,rather,rather,rather,rather". Slapstick began, his form flickering to one of the five, settling on T.V cast version before fading into his regular, "Stay here all the same, because then I'd have to be alone with my thoughts... and they're not all mine at the moment." Slapstick cocked his head, letting a rare silence fill the air.

"Wanna go kill whoever did all this?"

"... It's more effort than it's worth," Melissa spat as she turned away from Slapstick and laid back down on the sand, "Haven't you fucking noticed by now? It starts over again and again and again and fucking again! It's not the same asshole doing these every time! What the fuck does going out of my way to kill the piece of shit behind this one do, huh? That's not gonna-!" She stopped herself, realizing that she was gonna sputter out personal information she didn't want to share with Slapstick of all people, "It's not gonna do anything. It's why every time there's some stupid fucking battle going on, I just walk the other way. I don't fucking care and I don't have a reason to. I just want to be left the fuck alone."

Slapstick took out a tub of ice cream and nudged it gently towards the woman, "Ice cream?"

While Melissa did have quite the sweet tooth, she was ironically not in the mood. Thankfully, she didn't get violent this time as she spat out, "Don't fucking patronize me. Just... Go. Bother someone else. Have I given you any fucking reason to believe that I want you here?"

"You...haven't shot me yet?"Slapstick offered, but he kinda knew at this point he was grasping at straws.

"Would that make you leave?" Melissa questioned, turning her head slightly.

Slapstick puzzled it for about eight seconds, "Probably not.... You can't die, right?" Slapstick mentioned offhandedly.

Melissa looked back at him with a mixture of anger and confusion. "The fuck is it to you? No, I can't die, now fucking go."

"Sooner or later someone will off me, humor can only do so much against a greater evi-"Slapstick philosophied.

"Please be sooner," Melissa interrupted in muttering as she laid back down.

"I'm just saying that it must be worse for you, ok?" Slapstick snipped back.

"Yeah, no shit it's fucking worse!" Melissa snapped, sitting back up, "But it doesn't even matter! I don't even get to outlive my friends! No! They all fucking die in this piece of shit or I just never get to see them again! And the last person I want sitting down next to me trying to give me their fucking shoulder to cry on is you! You are the last person I want trying to be my friend! I don't want you around! Nobody wants you around! And that's your fucking fault! You can't ever take a fucking hint! You think you're so goddamn fucking hilarious and you're the only one ever fucking laughing! You're desperate, pathetic, and the only thing funny about you is that you call yourself a hero! Take your stupid fucking cartoon bullshit and get away from me!"

"I know". Slapstick stated plainly, "You're right that you deserve someone better, to deal with your grief,however it seems I'm here". Slapstick stopped, static filled his soul,"Figured I would stay until someone better rolled around to help" Slapstick got up, dusting off his legs,"I asked if you could die because I figure you'd want to, I was asking because this clash takes more than it gives and I was wondering if you wanted to check out."

Slapstick paused.

"Grim thinking for a clown, but I figured at the very least I could help find a way to help you do it".

Melissa was silent for a moment before shaking her head. "And what fucking genius idea do you have, huh? I've been fucking aprozied. I was fucking ash. And then the ash was fucking vaporized! And I'm still here!"

"I've seen twelve impossible things since sunday, whose to say if something anything in this perpetual clusterfuck could cancel out your impossibility?"Slapstick offered.

"I fucking doubt it. But I-..." Melissa stopped herself. She was about to segway into agreeing with his proposal, but she realized something. Youmu had been willing to sacrifice herself for her. Melissa couldn't even die, and Youmu knew that. She just didn't want to see Melissa in pain. She was willing to lay down her life simply for Melissa's convenience. What kind of slap in the face, kind of disrespect would it be if Melissa went and tried to kill herself after that?

"... No... No..." Melissa finally muttered out in a somber tone, once again laying back on the sand, looking away from Slapstick, "I couldn't do that."

The toon sighed. "You wouldn't want to tag along with me?" He offered, knowing fully how futile that question was.

Surprisingly, she didn't respond with another fury-filled scream for her to leave her alone. She seemed more sad than angry after pondering over her thoughts, but otherwise the answer was the same, "No... Just go... Please."

"You sure?" Slapstick asked, taking out a rickshaw.

"Yes, I'm sure," Melissa sighed, not even looking up to see the rickshaw.

Yet despite that when Melissa double checked, she would realize she was now seated in the vehicle somehow. "W-Wait- What the fuck- You..." She raised her head, about to rip the rickshaw in half and throw Slapstick like a javelin... But she didn't have the energy to do so. She sighed and slumped back down, giving up.

"Not my fault you happen to be in the rickshaw I'm pulling," Slapstick muttered, giving a wry grin and started off.


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Post by megaman177 on Sat Dec 21, 2019 6:06 pm

Sneaky Sif

Sneaky Sif trudged the cobbles of Rivellon, accompanied closely by his friend Carver. The two skeletons wandered a dense wood, in pursuit of grandiose adventure, justice for all and possibly a few peoples' wallets if they had the chance. Rain pelted down as they manoeuvred on, the water drenching through their medieval armour and into their anicent bones.

"Cripe, you think the Gods might've given us a map!" Sif protested. "Twelve hours and we haven't nicked- I mean uh, helped any codgers from getting their shins bashed in." The rogue kicked the wet mud in-front of him, browsing the range of trees that surrounded the road. Granted, he could always try to steal Carver's purse, but the last time he pulled that he had both of his tibiae violently broken, and gluing marrow back together was a nightmare.

"Would you curb your disgusting avarice for a moment?" Carver responded gruffly. "I'm sure there'll be another struggling market town you can rob at the next stop. Keep up or I'll knock the teeth out of your skull."

"Take it easy, mate!" Sif replied, raising his hands and facing his 'brother'. "I ain't letting you practice osteology again, remember last time? Took me so long to find an old biddy too senile to figure out what's off about knitting a man's vertebrae back together. Crikey, I mean have you ever-"

Sif's monologue was cut short as he tripped over his boot into a pool of wet mud. He attempted to struggle back up. "Help me! Help me up, you bastard!" he yelled through his nonexistent vocal chords as he writhed in the malevolence of muck. Sif's consciousness seemed to fade, and he felt himself becoming lighter and less aware, as though enveloped by a black void.


Sif woke up with a start in some confined, pitch black space. "Aw, crikey!" he yelled, deciding the best course of action to be immediately struggling and writhing about to break free. Convulsing about triggered his tight surroundings to rattle noisily, which caused Sif to stop briefly to contemplate if what he was doing was a good idea or not before he abandoned all reason and continued. "Caaaarver? Gemme owt of here!"

Sif's dissertation in wriggling about vigorously bore fruit, as he felt the confines in front of him breaking loose. A dim light shone through a crack. "Blimey, if I weren't getting owt of here I'd rip me legs off and say they were a pair of antique pens! What a bloody shambles! I'm not bloody..."

Sif continued to rant loud cockney nonsense before deciding he'd had enough. He clenched his jaw, holding his breath and violently bashing his forehead forwards. A loud crunching emanated as his neck broke through a ceiling.

Sif's exposed skull rolled about weakly before he came back to his senses, a small crack now present on his forehead. If he had eyelids, he would be clenching them at all the light shining through his eye-sockets. He scanned his upside-down surroundings, acknowledging that he was in some sort of kitchen.

Sif felt a slight sense of panic overwhelm him as he took in some of the characters in the room (subconsciously trying to imagine where their wallets were as-well, but that's besides the point). "Oh, 'ello mates!" he called out, visible as what was only an animate, chiselled skull poking upside down from the ceiling. He cricked his neck in discomfort, causing a large flurry of dust to dislodge from the ceiling and fall into Bob's bighorner stew. "I'm- Aw, sorry mate, were you eating that?" he asked, overcome by remorse for a moment. "Look, I'll buy you another come the next round."

Sif's head twisted to Lily, eliciting him to screech violently at the nightkin's terrifying countenance for a second. "Ey lady, you've got some guns on ya!" he greeted. "Could you do me a favour and give me the old wrench out of this, uh, ceiling 'ere? I'm a bit stuck as they say."

Sif smiled and winked an eyesocket before his jawbone dislodged, falling to the floor and splitting violently in half. "Awh, bhy the Ghods!" Sif lamented, now unable to properly elocute himself. "Cahn't I evah chatch a breek?"

Sif grew frustrated by this point and started scratching and scraping violently at his root in the ceiling. "Bluddy 'ull, lemme owt!" he yelled, accidentally scraping his skull against the ceiling.

A chunk of fetid hair dislodged from Sif's head, floating and landing in Lily and Elizabeth's soup. The hair began quivering as a colony of thousands of small spiders started to emigrate from it, crawling all over the food.

Sif noticed this and felt another immediate pang of guilt, spotting Elizabeth for the first time. His latent parental instincts were practically weeping inside of him. "Awh, I'm sho surry!" he cried, almost on the verge of tears by this point. "I ghot me 'air in yer lubbly shoup! I'm ser shorry, yer a liddul anjhul!"

Freeside North Gate

Ginomai's tiny tentacled eye spectated its crude surroundings, desperately searching for some form of sustenance. It hummed in acknowledgement at the evident poverty and destruction present around it, understanding that this usually indicated poor morale and spirit. Despair was excellent, it thought, as it tenderised victims into a more devourable state.

Ginomai's appendage was about to recede, its eyelids shutting, before it was startled at the sound of scraping and movement. The eye darted forward, bulging wide with a new energy. It shot around wildly, not eager to be noticed in such a weak state.

Ginomai set its sights on the origin of the disturbing noise, a yellow whirlwind no larger than its little ocular tentacle was. The whirlwind flew about with unrestrained fury, approaching Ginomai itself. Ginomai instinctively began to curl away, not willing to be cut short at the hands of a blurry rotating object.

Ginomai's eye began to open up again as the tornado paused in-front of it, and as it whirled a variety of sheets of paper began to emanate from it. Spying the sheets as they flew everywhere, Ginomai witnessed a range of different pencil drawings on them, varying from preliminary sketches of Leonardo da Vinci quality to crude scribblings of pencils with eyes and limbs holding flowers.

Ginomai narrowed its eye at the blurry whirling sight in disdain. The whirling ceased, revealing an anthropomorphic pencil on the railing of the gate beside of it. The pencil stood proudly, locking eyes with Ginomai and grinning widely.

"WOOOOAAAAAH!" the pencil exclaimed in its youthful voice, stepping back in amazement. "You seein' this, eye boy?" Wild Woody looked in naive astonishment at the irradiated wasteland stretching ahead of him and Ginomai. "Woohoo! Looks like someone ate a zillion curries and didn't make it to the dump station in time!"

Ginomai's state switched between the wasteland and Wild Woody in hopeless, panicked confusion before its disorientation cleared. It felt an instant sting, hissing at the pencil's joviality. His attitude was like poison to the entity, gnawing at its precious silence.

"Just call me Woody." Woody explained. "WIIIIIIIILD WOODY! Say, where're the blockhead brothers?" This much was true for Woody, since he seemed to be far from home. Perhaps this was another fictional world.

Ginomai crumpled in anguish before becoming enraged, growling at Woody as miniature, blood-filled tentacles began to rise from its body and gravitate towards him.

Woody continued to not shut up before jumping at the sight of the twisting, aggressive Ginomai. "AAAAAAAAAA!" the pencil screeched, leaping up in shock and gazing at its writhing tentacles. "Gee, talk about a slippery customer! I oughta introduce ya to Fishlips, but with that attitude you'd just blow up!"

A devilish grin crossed Woody's face as he grabbed a loose sheet of paper, transforming into a levitating pencil briefly to scrawl an illustration of dynamite on it. The sheet materialised into a small stick of dynamite, which then fell into Woody's gloved hand.

"See ya later, eyebrains!" Woody said (cockily) as he grabbed Ginomai's appendages and wrapped up his stick of dynamite inside them.

Ginomai growled in rage before this entangling stopped and Woody hopped away off of the roof of the North gate. The entity's rage transformed into fear as it realised it couldn't remove the dynamite and its steadily burning fuse from itself, eliciting it to begin groaning and whimpering. Woody sprinted a distance away from this scene, plugging his non-existent ears mockingly as he grinned at Ginomai.

The dynamite exploded violently, causing Ginomai's miniature body and the entire Northern Freeside Gate to erupt in a torrent of shrapnel. Ginomai's crude body splattered all over the wreckage as the structure violently fell to the ground, smeared in pinkish blood and grey slime. "Woowee! Hope you had some insurance, bucko!" Woody called after the destruction. "Who's next on the freak parade, huh?" The pencil sprinted off gleefully, vanishing promptly.

Ginomai's sludgy remains dissipated into thin air, returning back to a cloud of radio energy hovering above what remained of the Freeside North Gate.

The creature was not only hungrier for having been made worse for wear, but now livid. It would go to any measure to see this 'Wild Woody' be undone.

Ginomai's energy darted off, vanishing from the ambience.

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Post by Lowfn on Tue Dec 24, 2019 5:26 am


Lieutenant Haggerty, clearly the woman in charge given her differing uniform from the other troopers who patrolled and stood at their posts, was taken aback some by the appearance of what she assumed to be some obscure, experimental power armor with an old lady inside. The Mojave was a lot of things, but it was definitely not mundane.

"Well... You're not the first person to wander by here, but this is a restricted area..." She started, but thought it over for a moment. At the very least, this old woman was unlikely to be with the Legion given the power armor and the fact that she was a woman. Brotherhood was possible given the direction she came from and reports of possible Brotherhood activity in Hidden Valley...

In either case, the 'expert' fixing up HELIOS One may as well be a saboteur himself given he was, as Haggerty put it many times, an idiot. "... But... If you're not in a rush to head anywhere specific, we could use your help here. I'm gonna take a guess that you know more about, well, anything than our expert trying to fix up this place. The problem is, our expert's an idiot. We would appreciate any assistance in getting this place running properly."


"I never thought I'd miss all those hotel kitchens. I thought those were lacking, but this place? Plus, apparently half of everything here is radioactive! I had to pour a little bit of this stuff called 'RadAway' into the soup, and it took forever to get rid of its nasty taste," Elizabeth bemoaned with a sigh. She always prioritized the quality of her food over the taste, but that didn't mean she could not lament over not being able to go all out, "And these people haven't been buying a bunch of spices either, but those are probably radioactive too."

"WE NIGHTKIN AND SUPER MUTANTS DON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT RADIATION, BUT LITTLE ELIZABETH HERE INSISTED ON HER FOOD BEING CLEAN," Lily remarked, gently patting the young chef's head with a giant, blue hand before looking back to Bob, "MMM... SO WHO ARE YOU AGAIN?"

Before he could respond, Sneaky Sif had crashed partially through the ceiling. Elizabeth let out a shriek at the wave of dust and grime that had tainted hr soup, and another at the spiders that now infested it. Given the horrendous amount of time and effort she had spent toiling away at cleaning the kitchen and making the soup edible and tasty, the sudden defilement of her hard work brought the little girl to tears as she simply stood there and cried.

"OH NO, DEARIE, IT'S OKAY! HUSH! WE CAN MAKE MORE SOUP! DON'T CRY! LILY'S HERE!" The grandma nightkin tried her best to comfort Elizabeth with her loud, gravely voice as she knelt down by Elizabeth's side.

Meanwhile, Marcus was taken aback by Wilba's seizure-like convulsing and foaming at the mouth. "Are you well?" He quickly asked, "We have a doctor here. Do you need help?"


"What the hell- Get the hell out of here, this is a military outpost," One of the NCR rangers stationed in the outpost shouted. A number of eyes and barrels were pointed in his direction as the rangers and troopers there assumed Gordan to be nothing more than some junkie on a wild trip stumbling through the forest, and they were not willing to put up with the frenzied antics of a chem addict.

Then the world blew up. The end.

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Post by AestheticMonkey on Tue Dec 24, 2019 7:27 am

Collab between Aeth and Zan

El Dorado lakebed road

"Seems like a long walk." Slim would stop walking with Casey for a moment, his wings unfurling. "Say kid, you ever wanted to fly?"

"Huh? Wait, you mean..." Casey would take a step back and look at his wings with a gasp as her eyes widened in shock. She would look back to Slim, her mouth agape before excitedly nodding, "Y-Yes! Yes! Yes! That-... That..." She would slowly calm down as her enthusiasm faded away, replaced with caution, "Would you be able to carry me though? A-And I don't wanna hurt you or anything by accident."

"Yeah I can carry you kid, trust me, you're nothing compared to the kits us soldiers had to galavant around in back in the day. It's also less flying and more extreme skipping, but you'll still be going really fast in the air." He'd stoop down to one knee, holstering his Leech-Gun behind him. "Come here, wrap your arms and legs around me, and I'll make sure you don't slip off."

Casey took a few tentative steps forwards, staring down at him and gulping as she considered his offer. She reached forwards before stopping and pulling her hand back a little. After another moment of thought, she would reach again and carefully climb onto his back, taking great care not to jab him with her heel or put too much pressure on any one spot. Her grip was equally as soft. She definitely was not holding on anywhere near what could be considered 'tight'.

"Kid, you gotta hold on tighter than that. You have to squeeze me like you mean to hurt, but don't worry about hurting me, I'll be fine. Spread your fingers out as wide as you can, get as much of your body onto mine as possible. Puts even more friction on you." He'd slowly adjust Casey within his grasp, moving her towards his front where he could grasp her with his arms, and keep free of his wings.

"Oh, uh... Okay..." Casey nervously nodded. He would feel her grip only barely tighten. It was as if she considered anything above a delicate touch to be too harsh and rough. She glanced up at Slim to see if that was enough pressure.

"No, it's not kid. Alot harder, as hard as you can. If your hand feels weird and tight, you're doing it right." He clarified.

"It already feels really tight though," Casey blinked with sad confusion as she looked at her arms and squeezed just a tiny bit tighter.

"Nevermind, a little time airborne and your lizard-brain will do it for you." Slim stated, his grasp around her growing very tight and strong as he began to run forwards, building up speed as his wings flapped behind him in the wind. Once he had built up enough speed, he would jump and his wings burst into activity at the apex of his jump. He was now flying twenty to thirty feet off the ground, speeding forward in a long arc. Casey could see miles of the desert all around her, the roar of the wind in her ears was deafning.

As he ran, Casey would gasp as her grip slowly tightened before letting out a terrified scream at their ascent, scrambling to tighten her grip to an acceptable level as she gawked at the rushing ground below them with a mixture of fear and excitement. "OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD!" She cried out, shaking as she tightly held onto Slim.

"Yeah I know, it's electric your first time. That applies to alot of things in life kid, remember that." He would make one long arc of flight, before his wings petered out and he began to sprint down on the road, before jumping into flight once more. With this method of travel the two were gaining ground quickly, and before long Slim would come to a stop in the 188 Trading Post. Skidding to a halt as he hopped along on his feet, the pavement wasn't as good as dirt when it came to slowing down.

Casey's grip did not let up as she stared around with wide eyes. She seemed to still be in fight or flight mode as she was practically affixed to Slim. Those at the trading post gave Slim odd looks, but were otherwise not hostile given he was with a child.

Slim would help Casey down from him, and set his hands on her shoulder. "You alright? Nothin fall off in flight?" He'd glance around at the people in the Trading Post. He would have commented it was rude to stare, but what was the point. They'd stare anyways.

"Y-Yeah, I'm okay," Casey sputtered out, reaching up and making sure her hat was there. Miraculously, it hadn't fallen off in the flight. "That, um... That was really fun," She murmured out in a bout of shyness at saying it out loud... That and she was still shaking after the experience.

"Take it easy, let the adrenaline out of your system because you are shivering like a leaf. You hungry or anything? Thirsty?" Slim would comment, his compound eyes looking all around the trading post. Taking in just about every detail that he could.

"U-Uh-huh," Casey sputtered out, looking down at her shivering hands and taking a deep breath. She hadn't done something that exciting since... Well... Ever. There was the time that her home had been dropped onto an alien planet, but that was different. This was exhilarating.

"Alright, find you a seat or something and I'll be right back." He stated, walking over towards the end of the overpass where the owner of the post had set up a little outdoor canteen. He'd take a seat near the counter, after side-eyeing some woman wearing stitched-together potato sacks and a metal fist. "Hello, mind giving me some pointers if it's not too much to ask?" Slim would ask Samuel.

"Woah, what the hell?" Samuel gasped, taking a step back in shock and processing what he was seeing for a moment before shaking his head, "Uh... Yeah, I can give you 'pointers'. If you're trying to get to New Vegas, just keep heading that-a-way." He assumed that's where the bug-like man would be heading, given that's where anyone wanted to go who passed through the trading post.

"So that's the place. Thanks for the directions there, but I meant more local locations. Kind of hard to miss that place. Anyone or anything I should look out for, is there any Hub presence here, that sort of stuff." Slim would clarify, his voice dripping with sarcasm when he thanked Samuel for directions to Vegas.

"The Hub?" The trader repeated with some amusement before letting out a huff of a laugh and shaking his head, "I don't know much about the place, but I know that's all the way back in California. Don't know how the hell you ended up all the way here. But while you're here, I guess you should look out for Legion. Plenty of them running around this close to the river. As you get closer to New Vegas, you might run into some fiends if you take a wrong turn. Otherwise, it's your typical wasteland, and I'm sure you already know some people would be a lot less friendly towards a mutant like yourself than me."

"Yeah, ran into a couple of them that started shooting on sight. They lost. You got anything to eat, drink? Don't have anything on me but ammo, you willing to trade that?" Slim asked, pulling out some .44 magnum rounds, along with a box of supermat rounds.

"Sure thing, I got plenty of food here, much of it would only cost you a few rounds of ammo," Samuel nodded, gesturing to his selection of foods both processed hundreds of years ago and recently cooked abominations like bloatfly sliders.

Slim upon seeing an opportunity to barter, decided to discuss with him the supermat rounds that he had. "Oh the normal ammo sure, but these are supermat rounds. Whatever you hit with these is fucked, especially around here. Here, I'll give you a demonstration." Slim would take one of the rounds out of the box of ammo, and pull out his ACTHAMMER revolver. Loading the singular round into the cylinder, he would take aim at a nearby concrete guard-rail and fire. The bullet punched a clean hole through the concrete and blew a large exit wound out the back of the stone column."Think that's worth a price hike?"

"Huh, yeah that's definitely somethin'... What all guns will it work with though? Could any old revolver shoot one of those things?"

"Any .44 gun will work. The bullet is different as a whole, but it won't blow an antique up. Just make sure you have a sealed cylinder, or you'll cut your thumb off if you're not careful. Some powerful primer in that thing."

Samuel hummed and thought over it for a moment. He briefly glanced in Casey's direction before looking back to Slim, figuring the rounds were probably worth it and that he could risk buying some potential garbage so a kid could eat. Besides, he didn't want to wake up his daughter just to ask her opinion on some ammo. "Alright, you got yourself a deal. I'll give you five caps per round."

Slim nodded, and traded with Samuel. Exchanging a few of his rouds for provisions. He now had a small stockpile of them along with a pouch to carry them in. He seemed to shy away from the bug products, likely for obvious reasons. "Alright, pleasure doing business with you. Stay safe out here." He'd state, before turning around and walking past Veronica to get back to Casey. "Just thought of something kid, you don't have any sunscreen do you?"

"Sunscreen?" Casey blinked. She never had a need for the stuff in New York, and so she didn't even know what sunscreen was.

"Yeah, sun out here in the desert will burn you. No clouds or anything to absorb and break up the UV light. Really painful. Don't worry though, I have some." He stated, kneeling down and fishing out a tin of some sort. He'd crack it open to reveal some aromatic, and oily mixture contained within. It smelt strongly of coconut. "It's a mixture of coconut oils, flaxseed and some other stuff. I use it to clean and keep my carapace moist but it'll block the sun for you. Rub it onto any skin not covered by your clothes. Get it on and around your face especially, including your ears, neck and the backs of both."

"Oh, okay... Thank you!" Casey looked to the can for a moment, then to Slim, and then finally took the mixture from him. She gave it a curious sniff, cocking her head at its smell and the whole concept of 'sunscreen'. She would meander over to a table and set the tin down on it before liberally applying the mixture to her arms, legs, and other areas indicated by Slim. It wasn't long before she looked like a ghost with how much she slathered onto herself, unsure of how much was too much. The only visible area that was safe was around her eyes, which she left a decent patch of skin uncovered as she figured the stuff would probably hurt like shampoo if she got it in her eyes.

Meanwhile, Slim head something within his earpiece, if his sudden hand movement to said earpiece was anything to go by. "Lennox? Oh thank god I thought I was alone out here." He'd turn back to Casey. "Change of plans kid, we're staying here for a moment. Have someone coming by, I think you'll like her." He'd grab the tin back, cap it, and place it back in one of his short pockets when she was done. "Okay kid, you used way too much of that stuff. When you rub it on, your skin should still look clear."

"Oh... I didn't wanna get burned," Casey mumbled as she looked down at herself with a frown.

"Oh it's okay. It's nothing too serious, worst case scenario I have to make my own sunscreen. It's kind of gross, that's why I use the tin here. Got some submandibular glands here and... well it's gross."

"Wait, really?" Casey gasped, perking up immediately at the mention of Slim's anatomy, holding her hands up close to her chest and bouncing a bit in place, "Can I see? Please!"

"Why the hell not." Slim commented, putting his hand up to his mouth, his fingers would slip inside and he would pull them free. Revealing a sort of slime that had stuck to them. It was a thin resin that would thicken as it dehydrated. "I can't bathe in water anymore, won't kill me but it'll make my skin hurt. So the lab-boys came up with this. To clean myself I just scrape the old stuff off, then put this or the ointment on." He'd demonstrate it to her by quite literally peeling off his cuticle on a forearm, before coating it back with the other hand.

"Wow... That's awesome!" Casey exclaimed, staring in wonder and awe at the feature, obviously excited and impressed by what was really a minor consideration in the grand scheme of things.

"If you think that's cool." Slim would pull out some sort of giant fly from his wing-unit. It had a mechanical head or helmet attached to it. The large insect would crawl along his arm, towards Casey. Stopping just before it got to his wrist joint.

Casey's eyes widened like she had just been presented a puppy for Christmas. "Oh my god! It's so cute!" She squealed as quietly as she could out of fear of startling the bug. She gently brought her hand up to it, intent on petting it with a finger as her smile hung agape.

"You can hold onto him, he's a little health drone. Has a monocyte-breeder unit on his head there, encourages your wounds to heal alot faster than they normally would. If you get a scrape or something, he'll patch it up." He'd tap the head on the bug. "This is a sinozoo neotenic stimulator. He thinks we're his mom, or queen with this thing on."

"Awww!" Casey cooed in absolute delight as she gently took the drone from Slim, holding it in her hands. Again, like a girl and a puppy, she instantly came to love the little guy, especially now that she knew it thought she was its mother/ queen. She would break her gaze from the drone to smile up to Slim and give an ecstatic, "Thank you!"

"Hey no problem, I had a whole tub full of them back on the ship." The drone would crawl up her arm and come to a rest on her shoulder.

"Oh my god- I love him! Does he have a name?" Casey happily asked, reaching up and gently petting the drone with a finger.

"No I never bothered giving any of them names. They have a high attrition rate in the field, getting eaten, smashed, burned, electrocuted. Kinda gave up after a while. This one girl on the team though, Sunny, keeps naming them. Reminds me of you now that I think about it."

Casey grimaced a bit at the fate of the other drones before perking up a bit at being compared to someone else. "Really? What's she like?" She inquired, curious given that she had always been the loner oddball that was obsessed with bugs.

"Oh she's older than you, really optimistic. She's not passionate about bugs, but she's really passionate about machinery and flying. You just have her... energy about you. Don't know how to describe it." He'd glance down at her. "Anything more you wanted to know about me?"

"Everything!" Casey answered simply.

"Well for starters. There were alot more basilisk soldiers than me, a whole army of them. They didn't all look the same either. There were a few strains shared though. Some were beetle and crustacean spliced, others had some tarantula hawk I think, and some of the really tough bastards got arachnid splicing." Slim would continue to go on and on about the basilisk soldiers, before they were interrupted by Lennox slamming down and cratering the pavement on the opposite end of the overhang. Near the shack of Samuel and his daughter, and a few yards from Veronica.


"I'd love to help you ma'am but I'm currently in a bit of a situation, need to figure out som-" She would turn away from Haggerty, dialing something on her headphones. "Hey Slim do you copy?" "Yeah I'm here, this suit acts like a miniature comminications hub outside of the Laurie Ann. I'm picking up EMET's, Parnell's, Caira's, Crow's, Hank's, yours and Bucket's signal. Although his is currently faint, likely some environmental disruption."

She'd turn back around to Haggerty. "Again ma'am, apologies. I can give you a rain check and give you a proper diagnosis, just need to make sure my family is secure first."

"You have no obligation to us. If you need directions, I can help you," The Lieutenant assured with a nod.

"Alright. For right now, one of my associates is currently slightly to the northeast of here, says he's on an overpass. Once I am currently up on said overpass. What would be to the northwest, and what would be to the east? About... 3km to the east and 6km on the northwest?"

"Hmm... I'm guessing he's at the 188 Trading Post. From there, the only notable places northwest are McCarran and New Vegas. East there's Hoover Dam, but that's off-limits to civilians for the most part," Haggerty replied.

"The people at McCarran. They wouldn't be too hostile to a robotic field medic that is also a crazed war-droid with some incredibly creative language? He's harmless unless you start firing on him, but I don't want him to piss anyone off and get himself hurt. Jack would be mad at me. Hmmm, even if it is off-limits that's where his signal is coming from."

"Your friend at McCarran should be fine if he watches himself. People there are more worried about Fiends than they are robots. Whoever's at Hoover Dam is probably gonna get shooed off, so they should be fine too as long as they don't try going in."

"Slight issue. His signal suggests that he's facing interference from being inside the plant. I'm not too worried about Bucket, but i'm worried for whoever starts shooting at him."

"How the hell did he get inside the Dam?"

"I don't know, same way I materialized in some valley over that way." Lennox pointed over towards Hidden Valley. "In any event, I better hurry. Before anything rash happens, Ciao." Lennox would turn over towards the 188 Trading Post, and her suit would kick to life as a jetpack on her back activated. Propelling her at high velocities towards the trading station and kicking up a considerable amount of dust from her takeoff.

Hoover Dam

"And just who or what the hell are you?" Bucket would be met with a harsh tone as an equally harsh woman stared the robot down behind her 12.7mm pistol alongside two other troopers who happened to be with her on her stroll through Hoover Dam's power plant, "You've got twenty seconds to convince me you're not a spy and why I shouldn't have this entire Dam fire on you."

"Oh hello there." The laser-guidance from his rocket launcher flickered on, centered on her chest. "I am Bucket, Rank-Rajat Mind Serial Number 1Z27FHV047FBPQ40-a. I'm not spying on anyone, just lost. I don't know how I got here, or how I'm even still piloting this chassis."

"You got lost," Colonel Moore spat in bitter disbelief, "You somehow accidentally stumbled past security and into the heart of Hoover Dam, the most important strategic location in the Mojave to the NCR right now, in the middle of a war."

"I didn't stumble past security and into this Dam. I appeared inside here. If you want metrics, I'll give you to them. One femotsecond my chassis was currently contained within the crew deck of the Laurie Ann. After a brief silence of two seconds, my chassis began transmitting to my central unit inside a closet not too far from here, with a current distance of several thousand light-years if this is Earth. I would also like you to answer me this, what sort of spy uses a rocket launcher. It seems rather counterproductive to staying quiet, doesn't it?" A missle clicked into place within the docking station. Bucket wouldn't fire until fired upon, but reminding them that they were facing a well-armed robot might dissuade their agression.

"Unless your job was sabotage. Blow up something important in the Dam," Moore retorted, glaring the robot down without a hint of fear for her own life. The troopers beside her only kept their cool by her example as the glanced between each other, then back to Bucket. "I don't know what the hell you have on you, but I guarantee that the force here at the Dam could take you down if you tried anything. Other than McCarran, this is the highest concentration of NCR in the Mojave, so I suggest putting that thing down."

"I'm not concerned with trying anything, I simply want to get out of here. If I were going to sabotage a Dam, while having explosive ordinance, I would target your intake towers instead of blindly bumbling around in the interior. I am considerably more bulletproof than you are missileproof woman. I have no issues with you, and we will have none if you will direct me outside of this place. Once outside, I will gladly take my leave and bother you no further."

"You think I'm just gonna let some random asshole come into my Dam and waltz out like he owns the place? If you want to leave, fine, but we have questions, and I expect you to give us answers before we let you go. And if you think for a single fucking second that I care about whether or not I'm 'missileproof' or if I'm gonna shit my pants and let you leave to save my own life, you're wrong. Now come with us, we'll question you, and if I'm satisfied with what you tell us, I'll let you go."

"Oh I have no doubts about your suicidal tendencies ma'am, but given how important the Dam is to you, I doubt you'd want some explosive ordnance detonating and damaging electronics and structural integrity. I'll go along with you, and answer your questions." He'd reply curtly, the missile unloading from his launcher as he lowered the attached arm.


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Post by AestheticMonkey on Tue Dec 24, 2019 9:19 pm

Cottonwood Cove

A black, winged animal of some sort would fly overhead the base and surrounding areas high up in the sky. It had small, beady green eyes and four of them. After flying around for a bit, it would return back to where it had originally come from. Which was the shoulder of Crow. The former survey agent would then walk towards the Legion camp, and towards the explorers. He couldn't see the crucified people from his position, and neither did Gobi.

The man was rather tall for the post apocalypse, and with the pelt of some unknown creature draped across his back, and the green, glowing goggles he wore. He was quite an intimidating sight. There was also the fact that he had a rifle that was nearly as tall as he was, and he was currently using the butt of it like a walking stick. "Hey." He'd call out to one of the explorers.

Ranger Station Alpha

James Parnell had stumbled out of the lake a few minutes ago, and blasted some weird humanoid-looking things that had attacked him on sight. Shooting some sort of sonic discharge at him. The massive man would stroll into the Ranger Station Alpha, still dripping a bit of water. "Hello? I'm currently lost, if I could get some directions I'd be greatly appreciative."

Given his massive height and his armor it was easy to assume he was in full power-armor. However, looking closer would reveal patches of clothing showing through. Especially on his limbs. There was no power armor or frame, he was just a super-mutant sized man.

Old Mormon Fort

"W-AAAH!" A female voice would cry out, as Caira Diaz began to fall from the sky, having once been in the comfy confines of the Laurie Ann. Her jetpack would kick into gear however, and allow her to land safely near the entrance.


Hank had appeared a little ways ago, near the Source. He had moved north, following the signs of civilization up the road. Eventually found himself approaching the Old Prospector Saloon, and Easy Pete. He'd slowly walk up to the seated man, puffing his cigar. His laser-cannon was strapped to his side, along his mechanical exoskeleton. "Hello there, you seen anyone strange around here? Robots, giant-man, bug-man, cyborg, jus' anyone who doesn't look like they're from here?"


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Post by megaman177 on Sat Dec 28, 2019 3:43 pm


Stumbling drunkenly, the dishevelled Hobo Cop muttered incoherently about the perils of injustice and the merits of enlisting on the force. Wildly staggering and swaying, the filthy character stumbled into the vicinity of the Foxtrot ranger station, swigging on his bottle passionately. "Ahhhh, this is the life, ey?" he yelled to nobody in particular in his beer-gravelled voice. "If I wasn't divorced I'd bring the wife and kids up 'ere, what an eyeful!"

Hobo Cop's bloodshot eyes rolled about loosely in their sockets. He felt a wave of alcohol-induced exhaustion swathe over him as he contemplated falling over face-first on the ground as an alternative to a cheap holiday, but stopped himself upon sighting what appeared to be a man with a sex toy for a head being held hostage by a pack of unsavoury gun-wielding outlaws.

This was, of course, Gordan being dissuaded by NCR rangers.

Completely misreading the situation in his alcoholic haze, Hobo Cop gasped in shock, almost cutting off the circulation to his heart. "You ableist punks!" he roared from afar, swinging his bottle about wildly as he muttered random curses and made various other discourteous gestures. "Quit hasslin' the big-headed fella! Disgustin'!"

Stumbling dangerously near to the scene, Hobo Cop picked his ear and swatted a fly on his nose. "Ey, you wanna see somethin' real disgustin'?" he asked, suddenly smirking with his deranged face. Hobo Cop unzipped his fly, holding his half-full bottle of booze to his crotch and beginning to urinate in it. "Oh, Gordon Bennett, that's nice!" he roared in relief, not pausing at any point to re-zip his fly as he produced a completed cocktail of his own urine and cheap beer. "'Ere, get a load of this!"

Hobo Cop threw his bottle up into the air, kicking it at full force before it fell back down to the ground. He yowled and clutched his foot, accidentally stubbing a toe, as the bottle of pressurised, forsaken fluids travelled in an arc towards the NCR rangers like a careening grenade.

The projectile shattered upon the ground, sending a grimy combination of yellow-brown liquid spurting in every direction and at everybody. An instant gas began to spread (that would make God weep no less), vigorously forcing itself into the nostrils of Hobo Cop's victims (I.E. everybody).

"Hey, I ain't finished, ya blockheads!" Hobo Cop called, removing his bin lid and throwing it like a boomerang at the NCR. Using the window of opportunity these two assaults had given him, Hobo Cop burst into a sprint towards his targets, ending by sliding across the ground belly-first to knock the NCR clean off of their feet. "It's time ya learned how Uncle Sam does justice in these parts! Haw haw haw!"

"Woohoo! Time to earn my pay!" Hobo Cop cried as he curled his filthy fists and began aggressively pounding and prodding as many targets as possible with them. "You suckers wouldn't last a minute in the old country jail!" His battle strategy began to slowly degrade as he resorted to poking eyes and twisting crotches, his drunken ramble becoming more and more incoherent as he violently assailed the NCR who only ever wanted to protect their territory.

Princess Wilba

Clippy rolled his eyes at Marcus, still lurking on Wilba's shoulder. "I'm afraid I cannot help with that enquiry." he responded on Wilba's behalf. "Would you like any help writing a letter?"

Clippy's cynical look turned to pure panic as Wilba sprang up violently onto Marcus' face like a predator, wrapping herself around his neck. "WILBA D'OST LOVETH TH'POTATO MUNCHIES!" she announced excitedly. She opened her cavernous mouth wide before forcefully sinking her foam-covered bite into Marcus' face, attempting to excavate the 'potato' lumps out of it with her teeth.

Clippy, who was clinging tenuously onto Wilba's puffy attire, witnessed this event. "It looks like you're having your face mauled off. Would you like some help?" he asked Marcus courteously.

Sneaky Sif

"Oh, blimey, look what I've done." Sif thought, drowning in his own guilt at the sight of the crying Elizabeth. "Better get out of here before I cause any more traumatisation." Turning his attention to escaping, Sif began convulsing wildly in an attempt to recede back into the ceiling he had popped out of. "Shorry abhoud daht luv!" he apologised, still lacking a jaw.

Sif managed to pull himself back into the ceiling, leaving only a gaping hole where his head had been poking out. "That's that over with. Now time to bloody get out of here." he muttered quietly.

Sif vanished in a puff of smoke, re-materialising outside the building where the cooking disaster had transpired. "Where the bloody hell am I?" he asked himself, hopelessly scanning the wasteland through his bare eye sockets. He twisted his head back, observing Jacobstown. "I ought to get a move on out of here before some musclebound freak smashes me marrow in."

The sneaky character burst into a sprint, running as fast as possible away from Jacobstown and towards the east. Namely, he began to approach Cazador territory, but was too absorbed in escaping the mess he'd made to entertain any notion of staying back in Jacobstown.

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