Well Uhh, sorry but I think think I should pull out of this game, just not feeling like posting at all lately and I don't want to hold you guys up any more. Apologies.
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"So we're okay with letting them go if they surrender?" Richie asks from the back of the humvee
"Heh, good point Aaron. No good with firearms myself. I like to keep things simple."
"Hmm, maybe we should have gotten a local map before we left... at least then we could look for places that would make a good hideout." Richie ponders as two of his companions stare fruitlessly at the ground. He smiles when Jane picks something up, content to trust that she knew what she was doing.
"Soooo... Who's good at tracking?" Richie asks, loosening his seatbelt so he can lean forward to peer out the front windshield. He then looks down at the dashboard of the vehicle to see if it had an onboard computer. Maybe the raiders had some maps.
Richie leans forwards from the back seat of the humvee with a grin.
Richie just mostly stays out of the way, but helps the local militia out with gathering up and securing all the loot and any surviving raiders. He remains friendly and listens curiously to the two psykers swapping stories. When things finally wrap up he settles his pack on his shoulders and heads over to the hummer, stroking the tough armored doors. "Sounds good. I wanna see what it's like to ride in this. Not been in anything this big and powerful before." he says excitedly, before hauling himself up into the powerful vehicle.
Richie listens to the conversation with a faint smile, though most of what was being said went over his head. Still, it was pretty interesting!
"Ohhh! A syker, cool." he says with a grin, looking at Aaron with his mouth hanging open. "Wow, first time I meet one of you guys and there's two of you." he says with a chuckle.
Richie nods in thanks as he takes the small sack of bullets, adding it to his bag for future trade. He turns to Brannock as the soldier introduces himself.He glances at the hispanic as he lifts the Hummer's hood and takes a step back. "Heh, I'm not good at fixing things, only breaking them unfortunately." he says with a chagrined smile. He turns back to Brannock then, walking a little closer. [color=Green]"So what was that fire you used? Are you a warlock?"[/color]
Richie would just take whatever ammo he can use as cash on hand :)
Richie's a caster with no skill in driving or shooting, so he has no real interest in any of the loot :p He'd take a share of ammo just as for it's monetary value though, otherwise he's happy to donate it to the 'party' to repair the humvee.
"Sounds good to me." Richie says happily, looking at the others.
Richie watches Max and the other fighters-including a templar it seemed, he was a little nervous about that, he'd not met one before-for a few moments before heading over to the stranger who had joined them and cast flames at the humvee, it... hadn't really done much, but it had certainly been impressive. "Was that magic you used? Never met a warlock before." he asks, curiosity evident.
Loot:
11 NA Sidearm Pistols
3 Hunting Rifles 1 Colt Peacemaker 5 knives various makeshift melee weapons (baseball bats, pipes, etc.) 176 9mm rounds 31 .30 rifle rounds 12 .45 rounds various pieces of makeshift armor (basically Improvised Armor for any body part you want) 12 motorcycles 1 HMMWV (engine is pretty thoroughly fried) with a mounted NA SAW (loaded with all remaining ammo) Well, assuming we're soon given a reason to want to travel together, I'd be willing to take the humvee and invest the rest of our share into getting it up and running again. Would be pretty awesome :D Otherwise Richie would just take a share of the ammo (he prefers to travel light, by which I mean his Strength sucks).
"That sounds fair to me." Richie pipes up with a smile. He looks over at Aaron as he gets a face full of smoke. He wasn't sure what he'd take from the whole thing but he was sure he'd find something he could put to good use, just probably not literally; he was much better at breaking tech than using it. Still he could worry about that later. He casts his gaze around the bullet ridden area thanks to the lunatic bosses wild fire and raises his voice. "Is everyone okay?" he was feeling a bit warn out from the blast it had taken to KO the humvee, but he could rest later.
"Well, I'm certainly not much for violence on my own, but if it's to protect someone who deserves it, then happy to help." Richie says as he comes over, his hands a little bloody from the soldiers wounds which he wipes off on a rag.
Richie lowers his hands, the glow which had enveloped them fading as he turns away from the violent end of the lead raider's death. For the moment he crouches back behind the cover he'd found, but as soon as he sees an opening he darts over to where the guards were positioned and scrambles over to the two which had fallen in the opening moments of the fight, muttering to himself as he begins to look over their wounds.
Richie staggers back from the turret fire, shaken and bruised. Fingering the fresh holes in his robe he is relieved to find the various scraps of steel with which he has covered himself intact beneath the flowing robe, though more dented than previously. "Lets see how you manage without your sight." he growls, his hands glowing once again, this time the energy shooting straight out to envelop the bosses' head and slowly trying to bore it's way into his eyes.
Richie, peering out from behind max wilt's slightly at the sight of the humvee, that was going to make things tricky... "Should be able to take it... all charged up thankfully." he murmurs to himself, his eyes widening slightly as Max's hand suddenly disappears to be replaces by a gun barrel. He wastes no more time however before stepping out into the street beside Max, already starting to glow with a sickly green illumination as he lifts his arms into the air, his hands crackling with electricity. "By Joan I won't let you harm this town any more!" he exclaims, before throwing his hands forward. The electricity which had been gathering between them flies forward in a ball straight towards the humvee. As it hits the speeding vehicle rather than shocking it as one might have expected, there is a pulse of energy more felt than seen and a smell of ozone as the engine of the massive armored vehicle and any of the nearby bikes suddenly cuts out.
Richie takes a deep breath as Max pulls up in front of the bar and the other new arrivals stick their heads out. He frowns at Pinky's explanation before giving Max a shrug. "I'm no good with guns but I can help in my own way. Like I just told ya, that's kind of my job." he says with a grin, pushing his purple sleeves up to his elbows.
Oh whoops! My bad. The name of the campaign should probably have been a hint :p Uhh, oh well, no real harm done.
"Some of us do... they just want to be left alone, and so many people will chase off a mutant, if not attack it on site. It's not so bad around junkyard and other friendly cities but once you get away from them... So Joan's idea is to try and fix that, show people that we're not all bad like Silas. So us Doomsayers," he screws his face up at the name, it had always seemed very easy to misunderstand, but that's what they were. "try to do good out here and change people's minds." he says, smiling up at Max as he claps him on the back. He does look at Max with evident curiosity when he claims that he's trying to lay low. "I guess that depends what you're trying to hide from and how many other people are like you. Not too many people with purple robes and green scales." he points out.
"Got some war wounds huh?" he asks as he follows Max over and climbs into the sidecar, settling down. He'd met more than a few older folks who complained about aching joints, especially when it rained. "If you still want to help me out, well you heard Jerry's directions." "Heh. Well I've been called worse things than a cultist, and it's true in a manner of speaking. You ever heard of Joan and the Heretics? How 'bout Silas Rasmussen? Attacked Junkyard a few years back during The Harvest. you could hear the capital letters, even if you weren't familiar with the history of the region as Richie settled into his story. "I missed all that thankfully, wasn't old enough to to leave home on my own yet. Anyway Joan was one of Silas' followers until she realized how nuts he'd gone. After some... trouble trying to talk Silas out of slaughtering norms she left and started recruiting her own people to help make friends with em instead. Just because we got changed and you guys dint, theres no need to be fighting each other. So now we Doomsayers head out and try to make nice with you norms and letting any of us Chosen know where it's safe if they need it."
Fair enough :)
So is Max visibly robotic?
Richie waves to Jerry before following MAx out, looking at him curiously at his strange line. "Rust you? I've never heard that phrase before, what does it mean?"
"Thank you very much Jerry!" he says, practically bouncing on the spot at having managed to get the information so easily. He then shrugs off his pack and rummages in a side pocket that jingles. "Here, it's a bit dinged up, but the wheels work just fine. I'm sure someone'll like it." he says pulling out a small, dingy looking toy car. He puts the toy down on the counter and pushes it towards Jerry, the little hot wheels rolling along the top with only a bit of a wobble to it. He then steps back to wait for Max, humming to himself.
"I told you, call me Richie. Or Rick. Richard's always sounded too formal to me." he says as he peers as the bike's sidecar, then Max, before climbing in with a shrug. "Where I want to go... well I need to find someone. Delilah Harent. Jerry sounds like he'd know people round here, and you need your oil so... If we don't have any luck there then maybe we can find someone at Pinkie's" he suggests with a smile. He wasn't much of a drinker himself but pubs were always a good place to find information... at least the right sort of pub was.
"Hello Jerry! Yes, yes, I'm here on business and my new friend Max here... well I'm not sure if he has other plans, but he's after some oil for his hog out there." the scaled young fellow says with a smile and a thumb jerked towards the patched window. "I'm hpping you can help me find someone Jerry. A Mrs. Harten. I've got an urgent letter for her from her ma up in junkyard."
"Well... I'm not all that familiar with Belknap here, but it shouldn't be too hard to find the market. I'm sure someone can point us in the right direction." he says optimistically as he holds out a black (and slightly pointed) nailed hand. "Richard Jean of Floppy's Hollow, call me Richie." He looks over to the other pair of new arrivals as Max shouts at them; he had to agree that Max was a little loud, but he wasn't likely to let that bother him. He gives the pairing of Niles and Zeke a friendly wave before settling down to wait for when Max was ready to leave.
Richie allows his much calloused feet to carry him through the big scrap metal doors of Belknap. He didn't often come this way, but a lovely old lady back in junkyard had needed an urgent message delivered and so... off he went. He can't help but slow as he passes a large stationary bike ridden by a large man talking to a mixed race women. "Sounds like you want to head to the markets, or ask around for a garage." he recommends, overhearing their conversation. Richie doesn't seem all that impressive, but quite... strange. His purple robe is travel-stained and well worn, though kept in good condition, and his backpack is a little more beaten up. The figure inside the robe is quite slight, only about 5'7" and looks to be in his late teens, though it's somewhat hard to tell given he's not exactly... normal. He seems friendly enough, always ready to burst into a smile despite the soft green scales covering ~80% of his body, and the fan of skin which is currently folded down atop his otherwise bald head.
My picture's a little tooo reptilian, but it's the right look as far as scale color and the ridge thing |