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I'd love to rejoin, but realistically I don't think I have enough time to devote to it. Feel free to write poor Rufus off in any way thematically appropriate. Mutant gonorrhea might be appropriate...
I totally understand. Life happens, usually when it's least convenient. I had a good time playing an alcoholic whore-mongering ghoul with desperately poor social skills. Now I guess I'll just have to go back to living that dream in real life. Take care of yourself, man. I hope the changes are all for the best and you find yourself blessing the day the sh!t hit the fan. Rufus
"BEDDING?!? Well I sure got a few ladies I wouldn't mind 'bedding' on a bed of cash. You kids and yer damn caps. Got no respect fer proper cash."
and Rufus takes a couple whacks at the safe, but nothing seems to be working.
"ORNERY.... FALLACIOUS... TRUMP-LOVING...." Rufus's screed seems to be running out of swear words vile enough to describe his anger.
"ROTTEN... IDIOTIC.... DAMNFOOL... SCURVY-RIDDEN... GUNGAN..." Snatches of Rufus' diatribe drift back over the winds.
Rufus stands there, his rifle cradled in his hands, a slightly damp spot on his pants. He splutters for a moment, then swears loudly and stomps back to the van. You can hear him loudly cursing and swearing as he kicks the metal van. You catch words like "GOLDAMNIT... STUPID FOOLS... GOING LOOKING T'DIE... TEETH THE SIZE OF MY COC..."
and
"Holy Mary Mother of Pie. Didn't I tell ya?!? It's a freakin' MONSTER!" Rufus sighs, deep down knowing this is how it ends, in a deathclaw's gullet. "Crap." He raises his rifle and fires. and for damage! and
The two robots emit a series of highly technical noises that in Binary mean 'Holy Snikies, we're boned!' and fire! and One hits for damage!
I know that feeling. Had to put my cat down last night. Had him for 14 years. Some days are good and some suck. The good part is that they tend to mix themselves up a bit. Be well.
Rufus levers another round into the chamber and fires again!
and The Protectrons whir and stumble forward, their lazers zapping off into the air! and
Rufus shouldered his precious rifle and took a bead on one of the deathcubs. and for damage! The two protectrons unluckily assigned to Rufus lumber a few steps forward and fire! and
"Oh look! Your clever plan got us baby deathclaws! What a marvelous plan you have! Let's celebrate how great your plan was, assuming we don't DIE!"
"Well, childrens. Looks like we're walkin' t'city hall. Always wanted ta get in gov'ment." Rufus heads that direction.
"Gosh, Chief, I have seen the error of my ways and are now happy to support my country in this, its moment of need. I am only too happy to lend any support I may in order to make this, my country tis o' thee, a better place for non-Communists everywhere. I have learned my lesson, you fat-as.... I mean, your excellency." Rufus tries for contrite and may have managed Eddie Haskell levels of snark.
I solemnly swear to live up to my potential, sir.
"What, no mint on my pillow?" Rufus calls after the protectron. "Service really took a dive after the bombs fell."
Rufus lays back on the not uncomfortable bunk and whistles. "Dayum but this brings me back! Did I ever tell ya'll about the time I got kicked outta Disneyworld? Shiiiit. So I was travelling through the area with the rodeo when we found ourselves with a couple days off, on account 'a the sudden outbreak of 'pernicious syphilis' what sprang up amongst the young ladies of Kissimmee. In my defense, they live in a place called Kissimmee; you gotta expect somebody's gonna take ye up on it. Anyhoo, I decided I'd go pay my tributes to the Great Mouse, maybe see the frozen head of Walt Disney they keep there. Eats Cuban kids, he did. Big ol' spider droid body and little ol' frozen head. Damndest thing you never saw, kids." "Anyway, I was puttin' my moves on Cinderalla when this big ol' security goon come rollin', saying she's his girlfriend and to put my pecker back in my drawers and get gone. Well I only pulled it out to show the nice lady the proper length and girth for pleasin' her, right? So I didn't take kindly to this goon gettin' all huffy at me. I decked him! WHAM! Glass jaw went down like a paid boxer in the ninth round, he did! Cinderella starts hitting me with her glass slipper, wonking me all over the head, while I was tryin' to zip up. Shiiiiit. So I did what any red-blooded Amurican would do: I slapped her upside that crowned head. Big of an error there. Turns out Cindy was a black belt. Wow that girl could high kick in them petticoats! So I high tailed it out o' there, took the first door I could grab, which happened to be the costumed characters dressing room! Alls I know is Minnie Mouse started screaming and Goofy done started yelling about decorum, so I kicked him right in the goofy bits and that's when Dumbo sat on my head." Rufus pauses to chuckle. "Shiiit son. You know they gotta jail in the Magic Kingdom? Even the cots are covered with mouse ears, they are." "Still, got a night with Snow White where I showed her what the seven dwarfs never could. I was Dopey for a week after that trip...."
Key Rufus? I'm there!
or Clearly Rufus has slept on worse.
Rufus hands over his ladies gently and grins at the others. "Finally, a little peace and quiet! I REMEMBER ANCHORAGE YOU FASCIST PIGS!" Rufus goes screaming and kicking.
Rufus shakes his head at the vaulties. "Kids today... Ain't got no respect for proper protest movements. Probably raised on Barney and the Teletubbies in that damn vault. Ain't got no spine..."
Fight the power, Marcus!
Rufus sneers at the robot. "I've slept in a heckuva lot worse, robot! You and what army, robo-fascist?!?"
Alas Rufus is not a friendly person. It's hard to be charming while also insulting everyone you meet.
"So you robots jus' sit in here, scratchin' yer arses while the world burns? Shiiiiit, son. That there is a waste of bullets." Rufus spits, looking disgusted at yet another waste of old world resources.
"Sonuvab!tch! That damn robot thinks it's a people!" Rufus exclaims loudly.
"Will them robots be nicer to y'all if you're wearin' official armor, you think?"
"Good gawd, son. Don't blow yer load all at once over the pretty robot suit. Save some for the gals, lad." Rufus pulls a bit from his bottle of rotgut and shakes his head. "So, ya got pretty armor and a pretty suit of powerless armor. So what?"
I am GMing this weekend at a local con so I will be out of commission until Monday.
Rufus shakes his head. Deathclaws and killer robots. It's like they want to die!
"I'm with them. Ain't safe to separate. Never split the party they used to say in the old world. Wise man said that. Man name o' Gygax. Gygax the Wise they call'd him. Great man. Damn shame he died before the bombs. He woulda had a ball..."
and Rufus hangs back, cradling his rifle and watching out, muttering things like "Hunting deathclaws... Damnfool thing. Might as well play with grenades... But no that don't kill 'em... Damnfool."
"Ya'll are the damnest bunch of fools I ever met since the Bomb dropped. But it ain't a dull moment, I s'pose. SO I'm in."
Rufus shakes his head. "Yer thinking of this thing like a dumb beast. It ain't. They're smart. Smart as a person. Maybe smarter."
"Ya'll are idjits. You don't hunt a deathclaw. They hunt you. You get slaughtered. Don't make no difference how many guns you have, IT WILL EAT YOU. A buncha damn mutants nearly gave you your ass, boy. A deathclaw? It's gonna devour ya."
"They earned their name by being death with claws, Lefty. They're giant dinosaurs who rip you apart and spit in yer corpse. I ain't tacklin' them unless you give me a tank and the G~&+~@n US Army, son!"
"Ain't much like bears, nossir. Hairless and angry, if bears went super mutant. Nothing like ol' Winnie the Pooh, nossir." Rufus pipes up, looking at the mechanic with an odd expression.
"That there is a BIG boy." Rufus starts to say more, but seeing the one armed man's frantic head shaking, stops and just spits. 76 caps - 35 = 41!
Rufus is good with anything. He's still trying to figure how Spencer didn't get blown up... Any advice on what I should take for our level up?
"And one arm, tough guy."
"Waitaminnit. You're proposing we go to where these mutants came from? Ain't that like the mice walking into the cat's room?"
"Shiiiiit. We done kill't the bad guys and had ourselves a fine breakfast while you layabouts slept. Hell, Spence here eats grenades and craps healing as my ROTC instructor useta say. Before his fifth heart attack, anyway. After that he just made gaspin' noises and wheezed a lot." Rufus shakes his head. "Good times."
Rufus steps out of the van, looking around to make sure nobody's playing possum. He nods to Spencer. "Musta been a dud grenade. You should be in pieces, man. Tiny gooey pieces. Shiiiiit." He moves around, hauling the unconscious back to the van and then sits down and pulls out his rotgut, taking a long pull off it.
I had total faith in ye, Spencer. That's why I gave him that load o' bullpucky about not likin' you guys... That's it. I'm clever, ain't I?
Rufus nods and fires at the mutant! or
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