Coca Cola's page

"Dis iz wot Coca iz gona say. Respek. Yous may be hot, little bichie, but yous'z seriously frigin scary."

<Pulls out a cheroot.>

I'm still alive. last week rough, this week rough. Next week back to happy again.

"Whiskey. Coca gotta forget dat mental image a Germaine getting down, y'know?""

"... I'm not a virgin and am far older then I look."

*cough*

"Wif a geeza?"

"Damn."

<... long pause. shakes his head.>

"Knock me down wif a featha."

Spotting: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16

<As he passes the guard: "I... ummm... greeteth thee..."

<Coca walks in chuckling.>

<Whistles like a cuckoo.>

What time of day? Does Coca know where we are?

"Cocaman hates spiders."

<Readies Agnew.>

Spot 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13

"Cool. Roll 'em."

Coca Cola wrote:

<Coca slips over to the Nu Orkers. Thumps his fist against his chest to address them.>

"Yo, yo, yo bruvers. I be Coca Cola from Bichport. Peace. I be straight--done wanna waste yo clock, you now? Wonderin, we iz gonna go Big Dump ways lookin to recruit against da wreckers. Yous bruvers borrow any fought to jammin on da front?"

The Nu Orkers return his traditional friendly salute and size him up. They are turned a neutral green-brown shade on their chameleon skin. By and large they are wearing decent armor and toting some heavy weaponry. Their shark teeth are capped in a dazzling display of gold and gemstones.

"We iz headed that way Homes Coca. Meeting bruthas up in de hills already fightin' the mofos."

They look down at Coca, their hooded eyes solemn.

"The Hoods, dey all beefin' right now Homes. Lotta static an' such. Might be a good time to try Bahston-town mebbe."

"Cool. Cool."

"Good to know your peeps are in the party. Tanks for the intel."

"My man in Norataom be Piet Breeanson. If you sees 'im tell 'im Coca's down this way."

<Coca nods to indicate he's finished.>

"Power wit ye bruvas."

Well, we seem to be lagging, so ...

The group buys lodging for the night. After the many days on the road, a soft mattress feels good. Maccoy hasn't been on the road as long, but is never one to give up good sack time.

In the morning, the heat of the Jooleye sun is already baking the Spider's Wick. The party emerges from their rooms and eat a decent breakfast of greens, taters and eggs. The other groupd from yesterday are also eating, the Nu Orkers seeming to have secured some spare ribs for breakfast. Watching their sharp shark-like teeth rip into the ribs is a bit unsettling.

Actions??

<Coca slips over to the Nu Orkers. Thumps his fist against his chest to address them.>

"Yo, yo, yo bruvers. I be Coca Cola from Bichport. Peace. I be straight--done wanna waste yo clock, you now? Wonderin, we iz gonna go Big Dump ways lookin to recruit against da wreckers. Yous bruvers borrow any fought to jammin on da front?"

Kruelaid wrote:

<Coca sips a beer and follows the talk while scoping out for hot females.>

Coca sees a couple of the Ren Faire rejects from Holy Oak are pretty in a deep-cut bodice kinda way. The Nu Orkers have kinda cornered the roadhouse ladies.

<Coca starts checking out Germain.... this lasts a few seconds, then he slaps himself and takes up a beer.>

<Coca glances at Germain during the feeding comment, then heads off tot he stable and forks over his money. Heads inside, pays for a room...etc... Always checking.>

"Yup. Cocaman here. You gots beer? Girlies?"

"Ya. Let's see where deys rollin'."

"Sherm yous totally east side, cuz beer's wot we're in da house fe, iz I right?

"Road. I've never been a fan of boats. Besides, that way we won't have to pay for transport."

"An' den deres da megagators."

<Shivers dramatically.>

"Road or river, junkies?"

"Anyways. 91 runs trough Bichport. Dats where Coca's from. Den down some te Nu Ork. You wants to know about man's fall, bein' in da Big DUmp dere's bettah den a book."

Coca usually walks alongside his chicken. Or jogs. (he's speed 40) He only rides when top speed is imperative because the Colonel is not a large as a horse.

"Manhattan Arcology. Nu Ork clans. Let's become da streets, bruvas."

... Do you have a sensorium-type machine or any computing equipment with memory storage? I can download their description and specifications.

"Sorries bro, jes meat." <Taps his temple.>

<Looks over at Germain. "Now girly-girl there... I fink she's packin'."

<Leans over to Roach.>

"Wot did e say?"

<Coca turns away from the ball.>

"Whateva. Let's roll."

"BWAAAAAAAAK!"

"Word, fine feathered friend, word. Yous gots more smarts dan OMNUS dere Kernul."

"Besides. You gots records. I asks you, can yous tell me one exampo of a religion dat always follows it's religious code in warfare? Compute dat paramadah, footbah. And does yous reaaaally fink dey gonna let yous stays in control heah?"

"And frankwise, if yous for real were all-checkin, all-knowin, then you'd know dat rukin it up divided iz neva da shit. So yous go ahead and stays all locked up in da house in yo shiny towa wit yo... f**#ed short grass and shit... <waves at the lawn> while weez gettin dirty. When da wolves come, dey'z gonna burn yous out wiv da fires of enlightenment, digital bruva."

<Pats the android on the back, then pushes it away.>

"United we stands, bruva, divided we falls."

<Looks at his friends.>

"Let's blow dis gig, bruvas, deyz not playin in da real worl."

<Coca waves the diplomatic papers in front of the android.>

"Well, yous must gots a defense hagainst deir hEMP weapons--soz deir conventional weapons must not seem so killah as dey duz to us...."

<Puts his arm around the android like an old buddy.>

"But dig, as my main bruva Roach said, yous migh do da maf on deir force wiv a lidda more researchin, see. Cuz I gets, fa exampo, dat yous iz not inquirin about deir forces in any ways from doze who'z returnin from da front lines, oderwise you'd ave asked us fa any 411 dat we gots, insteada jus braggin' bout your unassailability."

So I guess he sniffs the Android. And probably calls her metal bich instead of flyin fing.

Ok take my subsequent past as addressing the Android. Or wahtever. Your call.

<Leans forward and sniffs the hologram. Looks at it real close. Addresses it again...>

"So, flyin fing, do yous guys knows about da Wreckahs?"

When Coca says this a small flying sphere nearby alters its path and zooms towards him. It stops a few feet from his chest and a hologram appears above it. The hologram is a silvery infinity symbol twisting like a Moebius strip

"Good morning. You wish to speak with me?"

<Stunned, Coca leans away from the hologram and whispers to Roach.>

"Dis is totally da crackedest fing I've eva checked, evun weirda dan Germain."

<Clears his throat.> "AHEM!"

"Hactually, weird flyin fing, I juz mentioned da possibility of checkin fa yous to my boys. We ain't yet delibatated on da matta. <With lots of gesturing toward himself and the others> Of course, now dat yous iz in da house, and checkin as yous probably listun to every f@+~in fing we sez, Cocaman iz gonna guess dat it doesn't for real matta much wedda we delibitate."

"BWAAAAAAAAK!"

"Ain dat da trute, Kernul."

"Huh. Romero Plague is the one that turns people into zombies, innit? So many plagues, I lose track of 'em all. Not that I give a s!@!, I never get sick." Roach pauses for a bit. "Now, should we try to get these fine machines on our side? At the very lest we should stop by the town hall and tell them 'bout them Wreckers."

"Maybe we oughts a talk to OMNUs." We're off to see the wizard...

<Shivers with a dramatic flourish.>

"Dese peeps don't look happy to me. Someun gots da name wrong, iz I right? Should be Unhappy Valley. Wachin dese biches iz makin Cocaman's skin crawl."

<Smacks Roach witht he back of his has to get his attention, waves at the lawnmower.>

"What da shit iz dey doin dat fo? And why in f$%+ izn't bots doin da work?"

"Transient travellers are advised that there is a Romero Plague outbreak in the Neticut Valley region. Please make a note of it .."

"Coca gonna put dat in his calenda. Latah."

<Coca moves on. He starts scouting for anyone that looks recruitable or worthy of seduction.>

<Coca, skillfully tapping a vein in his arm to bring it out, looks up at Lonne.>

"What? You means this ain't some kinda drugs an shit?"

"Hook Cocaman up."

<Coca pulls up his sleeve.>

<In his usual sing-song, Ali-G, arm waving gangsta ramble...>

"Yaaa. He means we'z lookin fer biches, which iz hactually just da hobby not ours purpose, dig it? In point hof fact, and dependin on wut yous means by 'entry'..." <Coca winks> "...ours purpose iz to pass through yo humbo state, maybe chekin hout da scene on da way throughs."

"I'm in."

"You'z da masta genius, Coca knew it. Lets blitz an' go spark da tavern before we get some shut eyes. By da way, stay away from da green bich. She iz whacked poisonous, man."

<Are we gonna roleplay the whole night or hand wave and start off the next morning>>

...

Hehe. Yah I read your bio before I made the fat remark. It seemed sensible that since Coca is skinny as hell and is accustomed to skinny scavenger women that he could easily conceive of anyone with normal body fat as being fat. Especially on a girl.

<Coca nods at everyone then looks up at Lonnie.>

"Dis iz wot dey act whun dey dig yous. Whun dey don't dig yous dey'z shootin."

<Scratches at some of the remaining rashes. Picks a piece of sloughing skin off his cheekbone and flicks it away.>

"So iz yous in? We'z all heavy peeps. Just adaptin to da mental shit. An' tryin to keep da wolves outta da gates."

Germain's disposition spins on a dime.

Edit: Hehe with that roll even Coca might start wondering if he's being too mean to Germain :D

<Scratches his head, buying the act.>

<Sounding strangely sincere but not quite getting it--scavenger girls are usually skin and bones and Germain looks well fed by Coca's standards.> "Yous could go on da diet."

<Coca ambles up to where the others are gathering, wherever that may be.>

"Dis iz my homie Roach, dats Sherman an his buddy da plant <Coca makes like he's toking>, da fat kid iz Germain <winks at Lonnie>, and dats Doc Maccoy. Folks, dis iz Lonnie. He done sez much."

<Looks at Lonnie a bit then turns to the team.>

"I axed Lonnie te heezie up wid us."

<Coca chatters away without pause, skirting the fringe of comprehensibility, and leads Lonnie back to the others.>

Who is still with us?

<He waves his giant chicken over.>

"Dis here iz da Kernul. Kernul Sanders."

"Yo, yo, yo spitz wiv me massiv bruva an' meet da others. But do' min' da chunky b#!@@, she'z loco."

"Sweet. Heezie up wiv us an' yous iz gonna chek da acshun massiv bruva, I promise yous dat."

Coca Cola wrote:

<Coca collects up his money and eyes the giant.>

"Firefly. You wants te kill wreckers?"

"Wreckers?"

"Yous neva erd hof Wreckers? Whun wuz da last bells yous wuz in civilizashun? Or did yous spitz from up north? Maybe down south?"

<Squinty eyed look.>

"Whateva."

<Slicks his hair back.>

"Chek I'z da recruita, bak from da front, an' me an' me homies iz headin to Big Dump lookin to heezie up some coasters into da war. Wreckers iz mental whacked hout nutjobs sweepin into da mountains killin heavy geezers."

<Cocaman nods at Lonnie's sword.>

"Me digs da blade."

<Takes Nixon off his back and unzips the 4 foot leather case, cracking a rare grin.>

"Chek it. I'z da snipaman."

"So the 550 good for your junk?"

"Yah. You's gansta."

<Coca collects up his money and eyes the giant.>

"Firefly. You wants te kill wreckers?"

That's what they're called right, Mutant monkey?