You remembered when things were simple. When a man could grab an ice cold beverage with a couple of gleaming coins. A time when a man could buy a house on a hill and proudly say, "This is mine." A time where people didn't really mind or care why you were passing through. A time where a man could make a choice and never second guess himself.Where variety was available but you never too overwhelmed by what was offered.
You sigh, and pack a couple more SPICK N SPAM cans into your pack and frown. You were hoping there would a bit more here. Maybe there was some jerky you could...
A thundering roar interrupts your thoughts as you hear your new acquaintance come barreling down the adjacent aisle, ripping up huge chunks of tile as it charges.
Grabbing your pack, crossbow, and new dinner plan, you begin high tailing it for the exit. You knock over a shelf and throw out the last of the caltrops that you kept just in case.
You also remember a man could go to the store without someone trying to interrupt his shopping experience.
Your feet slam the ground in well practiced rhythm as you expertly turn the corner, continually knocking over more empty displays to litter your trail. Leaping over debris and other assorted bits of fallen roof and metal you almost laugh at how routine things had become. You sprint past the medicinal aisle giving a little whoop as you almost trip over "Phil the Pill." and "Gerturde Germ". Hopping a bit, you let out a shortlived curse before seeing the dirty and broken glass doors of the Supermarket.
Seeing how the exit is well within sight, you wonder if you should take a peek and really see what you're dealing with. Of course you won't be staying long enough to really appreciate this marvel of Wasteland evolution, so why bother.
What do brave anon.
Recall that simple truth learned in many a youthful foot race: pay no mind to whats behind.
>>43635257
Take a peek while bitching about how shit wasn't this tedious when you used to go grocery shopping. Also, you might not get a lot of reception tonight due to other quests running tonight.
>>43635257
We can worry about what it is once we're safe. Get out that door and find the fastest route to the rooftops.
>>43635257
Run.
>>43635617
>>43635422
>>43635409
You mentally shrug and keep up the pace. Same shit, different day. With a well placed body check, you send the rusty twin doors swinging wide open. You are immediately assaulted by the dusty winds of the wasteland, stinging and biting always searching for exposed flesh to cut and slice. Though it's not all bad, your ride sits in the middle of the parking lot , ready and waiting for you!
It's a real beaut', four wheel drive, custom armor, extra carriage space, and to top it all off; a fuel efficient alcohol based motor. All of this built around upon the once desiccated shell of a truly monstrous Hummer. Truly it was a blessing from the Wastes.
Unfortunately it wasn't yours.
Ringo, the owner and driver, seems to be leisurely sitting on the hood of the vehicle and catches sight of your swift form. He gives a lazy wave as you stop alongside him.
"Find whatcha needed?" his drawling voice seemingly drifts from underneath his wide brimmed hat. You can't help but shiver every time you see Ringo. He was one of the more unfortunate (and oldest) survivors around, the radiation mutating him much more sickeningly than other of his ilk. His body was a crumbling mess, dust constantly being deposited from his for then rapidly regenerating only to repeat the process. To prevent "spreading himself around too much" he is wrapped in many layers of bandages, clothing over said bandages and a long overcoat. Which was fine by you, you've seen his mug once (and gotten a bit of it in your mouth) and you don't want it happening again.
You nod proudly, and pat the now slightly heavier pack.
"Not quite, but it'll do." you say with practiced casualness. Ringo nods, and a few wisps of dust meander out from the folds of his wraps. He pulls out his keys, and hops down from the hood stretching letting out another small billow of dust when he lands.
Cont.
>>43635810
"Well if that's all ya ken scrounge up thar we -"
An all too familiar roar once again breaks the silence and you both turn towards the sound.
The creature from earlier stands on the rooftops of the Market and it doesn't look too happy. It's ursine head snarls, you could see the froth as it flecks spittle from its mouth. As if sensing you looking at it, it stands upon its hind legs and beats it's chest with its massive ape like fists.
"Sweet jumbling Jermiah." you hear Ringo whisper "Is thet a..."
"HYBRID." You shout suddenly realizing how much danger you were and are currently in.
Galvanized into action, Ringo quickly hops through the driver side window, and rams the key into the ignition. You climb onto the outer carriage and throw yourself onto some empty salvage crates, banging on the side of the Hummer urging Ringo to hurry it up.
Without a word, you feel the car lurch to life, it's tires squealing under the sudden demands asked of them. And just in time as well, the Hybrid (Beariila? Bearape?.. no no...) decides to give chase, leaping from the rooftop and landing with a crash. It's weight sending cracks out and along the ancient asphalt.
The engines roars, and with a sharp turn from Ringo, you're out onto the main street, with a monstrosity following your tail.
" YA RADI GALL BLASTED IDJIT." You hear Ringo, yelling angrily above the noise of the car."You told me thet thar wasn't a critter nor soul round these parts!"
"There isn't!" you shout back "Well... there wasn't!" you add sheepishly. "I've never seen a hybrid around here before! I thought they were only in the big cities!"
"Whal, apparently this wun wanted ta take a little ol' holiday!" Ringo snaps back at you. "Why don't ya make yerself useful and git 'im off our assess! I tink I had a little old coach gun back thar somewheres..."
Will you:
>A. Search for the "Coachgun"
>B. Fuck it, we don't have time for that and look through your own stuff.
>C. Write in
>>43635966
>A. Search for the "Coachgun"
Shotguns, fuck yeah.
>>43635966
Coachgun
>>43635966
Search for that coach gun
>>43635966
>Search for the "Coachgun"
>>43635966OP is as usual a colossal faggot
Bumping for interest
Sorry boys, my father called me up last night and needed my help to fix his roof.
Sorry for being a faggot but I'm back now.
Don't worry bro, I got ya bumped. Just keep this shit runnin' while it's good.
>>43636026
>>43636084
>>43636220
>>43636463
>Coachgun
Steadying yourself, you set about pushing around and opening boxes, looking for salvation as it were. After moments of frenzied searching you come across the weapon in question. The gun wasn't a shotgun as such or much of a gun for that matter. The gun (or Thing as you would call it) was basically a nine inch wide pipe attached to a heavy stock and a basic trigger. You happen to also notice gun powder leaking from a small crack from where the pipe is jury rigged to the stock.
"Real state of the art piece of tech you got here Ringo!" you shout as you try to plug up the leak with a well placed finger.
"Why don't y'all jest shut yer trap fire thet damned thang!?" Ringo growls at you, shifting off from main street and into the housing district.
The Hybrid, in its frustration had taken to pick up bits of broken cars and flinging them at you as it ran.
"WITH WHAT!?"
"ANYTHING GUL DAMN IT. NAILS, GLASS, HELL FUCKING GOLF BALLS IF THET CATCHES YER FANCY.THE GUNS LOADED, JUST SHOOT THE CRITTER."
Looking around, there was indeed an assortment of sharp bits and bobs and nasty junk laying about on the carriage floor. Thanking your lucky stars that you had a nice sturdy pair of gloves, you begin shoveling bit of useless scrap, plastic, old blown out cans and sometimes, actual nails (you kept the good ones for yourself.)
Leaning out from the carriage window you manage to see that the Hybrid was gaining on you. Science was a real fucking miracle wasn't it?
Will you:
>A. SHOOT HER. SHOOT HER.
>B. Let it get closer.
>C. Write in
>>43641256
Oh and if you wish to shoot give me a 2d6 test.
Rolled 5, 2 = 7 (2d6)
>>43641256
>>A. SHOOT HER. SHOOT HER.
>>43641376
>7 So close, yet so far.
You heft the gun to your shoulder and take aim. With an earth shattering KABOOM, the gun delivers its deadly payload while simultaneously knocking you on your ass.
"DID YA GIT 'IM?" Ringo asks, looking over his shoulder and chuckling.
You scrabble to your feet, shooting a scowl towards the dust bag. Looking back towards your quarry you're saddened to see it still up and about, without a scratch on it to boot! Of course it seems that big bastard didn't miss your attempt on its life. As it passes by a ruined big rig, the hybrid rips off the fender, turning it into makeshift club. As it doubles its efforts to chase down your vehicle, it drags along the fender, sending sparks dancing along the fragmented road.
IT'S GETTING CLOSER.
Will you:
>A. Find more ammo. RELOAD DAMN IT.
>B. Tell Ringo to drive faster damn it!
>C. Write in
>>43641990
>A. Find more ammo. RELOAD DAMN IT.
>>43641990
>>A. Find more ammo. RELOAD DAMN IT.
>>B. Tell Ringo to drive faster damn it!
Unless we aren't able to yell at him while finding ammo, in which case focus on killing the fucking hybrid chasing us.
>>43642150
Seconding.
Real interesting quest you got here OP.
>>43642394
>>43642150
>>43642058
"RINGO. PUNCH IT OLD MAN, HE'S GAINING AND HE'S ARMED." you shout. You find a small box with more black powder and dump it into the barrel.
"This here junker was made for passenger and cargo carryin' boy! She ain't gonna git much faster! Unless ya got a jacked up diesel engine hidden thet little ol' pack of yers!"
You show a non-crumbling digit to the old man and continue rooting around for ammo. After picking up one more handful of ammo from the ground, you find a box of kitchen knives, ranging from butter to bread transference models to Steak Slashers. All in good condition as well, it was a nice find for Ringo but even better for you.
Will you:
>A. Take the knifes and pack them away
>B. Load some of them into the Blunderbuss
and keep half?
>C. Jam them all in. All of them.
>D. Write in
>>43642474
Damn it forgot, depnding on your choice it's another 2d6 shooting test. But I assume you already knew that.
>>43642394Awww, thank you.
>>43642474
C
Fuck it, use em all.
>>43642474
>>C. Jam them all in. All of them.
May as well keep a second shot available just in case
>>43642563
>>43642517
You begin to shovel in the assorted cutlery, giggling a little to yourself. It's moments like these that make you feel like a boy again. Soon the muzzle is bristling with blades of every shape and size, ready to let fly. You make sure to keep the regular ammo off to the side, just in case. You make ready to fire again, bracing yourself to avoid any repeats from last time. The big guy is almost within "Crush crush smash bang puny wastelanders" range of your ride. You're once again presented with the options of.
>A. Just fire away, there's no way you can miss this time
>B. Go ahead let him get up here. Then shoot it in its fucking face.
>C. Write in
Either way, roll another shooting test and may your aim be true!
Rolled 2, 4 = 6 (2d6)
>>43642935
>B. Go ahead let him get up here. Then shoot it in its fucking face.
If we put all the knives in, I don't want to waste them trying to snipe the damn thing.
Rolled 2, 4 = 6 (2d6)
>>43642935
>>B. Go ahead let him get up here. Then shoot it in its fucking face.
While its probably better to NOT let it smash the ride, it's best to not miss this time
>>43643228
>>43643123
You decide to let the it get closer. No matter how much you would rather be somewhere else, it's the only way to make sure this thing goes down. You can hear it's breathing, coming out in quick growling bursts and the screeching of the metal fender almost becomes too unbearable. Before you fire however, the Hybrid finally reaches the carriage, lets loose a furious cry. Its weapon swings in a wide arc smashing into the side of the carriage, punching a decent sized hole that causes some of the crates to fallout and onto the road. Knowing that this might be the last chance you have, you brace once more and pull the trigger.
SHNK SHNK SHNK SHNK SHNK SHNK SHNK.
The knifes ram, slice and sink into the behemoths flesh, a cloud of shrapnel that could make a grapeshot cannoneer weep with joy.
Roll 2d6+4 damage!
Rolled 6, 6 + 4 = 16 (2d6 + 4)
>>43643608
MY GOD I LOVE KNIVES
I'D HAVE A FREAKING BONER FOR THESE KNIVES IF I DIDN'T HAVE AN ANGRY BEARAPE SMASHING INTO US
EAT KNIVES DICKHEAD
>>43643608
>>43643681
Well I was gonna roll, but fuck.
>>43643608
>That text and roll
>>43643681
>6 + 6 + 4= 16
>DOUBLE SIXES
>DOUBLE DAMAGE
You know, it's a real shame that it wants to keep roaring, hollering and hooting. Might have a been a little less painful if it just kept its mouth shut. The knives worked out better than you could have ever imagined. The knives not only drive themselves into the broad chest of the beast sending gouts of blood and bits of burned flesh, some manage to slice so much of the beast wrist that it dangles from a thin strip of flesh.
The best part though, as mentioned. Was the clean and perfect shot into the beasts clueless face.
Knives,knives in its mouth, knives in its ears, knives in its eyes. Knives cutting, paring, stabbing, removing, separating and just absolutely destroying anything that might have been in the now empty space between its massive shoulders. As the gunpowder cleans up any leftovers, you laugh and laugh, losing yourself in the moment of triumph. Ringo joins in as well, extending his arm out of the cab and pumping his fist into the air, dust trailing off as he does so.
You fall over in your joy, with your back against the intact wall of the carriage, you slowly slide down, laughing all the while. Soon you're completely on the dirty floor of the carriage. You think maybe you should block the hole in the other side, but you can't bring yourself to do so. Your raucous laughter soon peters off into small chuckles and then into the sounds of well deserved slumber. You'll probably be back in Stillwater by the time you wake up.
>>43635257
Good DM, can we have a twitter handle for future threads?
>>43635257
That radiation suit looks a lot like it's actually a steam suit.
>>43644180
I sure could! Though I've never actually used twitter that much. Is there a certain way or pattern that other quests tend to follow when setting them up or am I overthinking it?
>>43644350
Just let us know when you are running so we don't miss a thread. And if we do we can hunt for it on archive.
You can get a new twitter handle and use it mainly for questing. Forewarning (e.g., quest this Tuesday) is nice but not necessary.
>>43644350
Come back soon, OP. I like your concept.
>>43644437
OP's writing is surprisingly good.
>>43644437
Well I could continue right now, I've got everything important done for the day and several storyhooks ready. You know, unless it would seem a little awkward for the pacing, which is completely understandable.
>>43644498
Whatever works for you DM.
We want this to be a long term thing. Not a two days then burn out thing.
>>43644546
I guess I could pick it up then tomorrow, for the sake of pacing ourselves. I have set up a twitter account and the handle is
@WnWWastelandGM
So you guys can get updated on when I hop on to run the quest.
I must say though, if it was delayed a bit and ran a little shorter than intended I had a lot of fun running it for you guys. See ya tomorrow!
>>43644798
Perfect. Thanks DM.
