|Gorilla||Snork's Irregulars, theoretically composed of mostly ghouls but due to uniform standards of always wearing gas-masks people are never quite sure. This major 'mercenary' band out of Jack's Town has gone missing- many of the people around the city are wondering where this 'upstanding' pillar of the community has gone off to! Last they heard the entire group had literally packed up camp and shipped out to Roswell for what seemed to be a major expedition of some sort into a manufacturing facility and plant from the old world.
Certain interested parties desire someone- anyone to find these mercenaries and convince them to return to searching for artifacts they were contracted to find prior. Luckily for those involved, wherever this mercenary band is, no doubt they would be around all sorts of artifacts.. and machines.
For our little intrepid group, they would of been hired possibly by multiple parties. Perhaps a caravanner looking to recover a lost keepsake. Perhaps someone who maintains robots or otherwise repairs vehicles needs a specific part found.. regardless these individuals are up shit creek without a large company able to find and clear large buildings.. and you are the ones to kick this mercenary group back into shape.
The actual journey to Roswell is of course uneventful, an recent attempts at clearing ghouls from the city have had mixed successes.. the question is.. how would our intrepid heros go about finding a band of mercenaries in a massive city?
|Vuk||Vuk was here..actually, he sort of just..glammed onto any one else going there. It's only after he listened to various folk discussing the situation he tried to seize onto a chance to expand their fortunes as it were. Vuk would do most any thing to deflect actual questions about their true talents, and regale people with stories about the time he braved a deathclaw to secure a crate of Nuka Cola quantam. How about that time he had to smuggle a crate of plasma pistols out of a NCR outpost? He suspiciously seems down on his luck..despite the wild stories.|
|Amos||One of the people that ended up joining the expedition was an errant Ranger, a stranger that'd just stopped in town on his way to El Dorado. The man isn't much different from the image most people conjure when thinking of the black armor, he's reserved and disciplined. Having taken a security position, he's at the front of the party, gaze moving unseen behind those red tinted lenses. But try as he might, he can't tell which tracks are which. Maybe he should've paid more attention during the survival courses.|
|Abe|| Beyond banging a few pots and pans together? Sure, that might bring out the Irregulars, might bring out all of their less civilized cousins as well. Either way, Scribe McDonald was saving that one as a very, very last resort.
He pokes around as he moves with their motley troop. He'd hoped for campsites, a troop that big would need a biig spot to bed down... But he didn't find campfire ash and empty cans of pork and beans. He found bodies.
Peeking into a alley, Abe froze, a sharp intake of breath that was made tinney by the mask of his helmet's gasmask. He waited. The body didn't stir... It was so hard to tell with ghouls.
"Hold up" he hissed to the crew, taking a moment to poke and prod at the corpse... It was harder to tell how long they were dead too. They looked rotten to start.
Sucking his teeth, Abe stood up and rejoined the group, "If our boys downed those." He'd seen another while nosing over the first "We're on the right track, no telling though, let's keep moving."
|Vuk||Vuk was already ranging out..to help..or find his own treasures is questionable, but he eventually circles back, shaking his head a bit before he notices they found a body. "Hold up..check the body. If it's a feral, they won't have much on em, but an actual soldier? I bet they'll have things on them." He doesn't admit he doesn't actually know if the blast craters in the buildings are recent or not. He's not sure they -are- blast craters, best to look competent!|
|Gorilla||All sorts of Ferals are on the ground, depending on where one looks. If they are looked over they might have the standard.. pack of cigerettes, nuclear materials and old world money. The latter the most valuable of the lot due to the fact they could be used as Butt wipe.
As the group wanders down the streets however things get a bit more still, the tension and the feeling of warmth increases, and the pipboy might crackle at odd intervals.. yet even as they move, the corpses get thicker and thicker, alerting that someone.. or something had went down this way. Some of the bullet holes and blood even looks fresh...
The group is no doubt getting closer, but how will they find the Irregulars now? THere might be Radiation hazards in the way.. or perhaps they can track them down?
|Vuk||Vuk will glance over when ever the pipboy beeps away, assuming it refers to radiation hazards. "Alright..lets get to a higher place. We might be able to see their camp..or some thing? At least we'll get an idea of the area? Avoid places that look real bad?" He suggests.|
|Vuk||Vuk doesn't like this town, it's apparent when he seemingly keeps doubling back and seems ..hesitant to go to far from he who has a pip boy. As it is obvious radiation might exist here. "I say to hell with them, and we just go find the damn cache they were sent to find. I have a good nose for finding things of value. Let the ghouls go and muck about here. I'd rather not piss glowing blue in the morning." He says, mostly to him self, checking their sub gun, ghouls are not some thing he enjoys clearly.|
|Amos||"Not too bad of ah idea." Amos allows, his voice amplified through his mask. "Could at least give us an idea of what's ahead, if we don't mind running the risk ah bumping into more ferals." He doesn't seem to mind the risk, and heads on into the nearest building, making his way up to the roof and looking about. He makes a small noise of annoyance when nothing sticks out, before dropping to a knee and really looking. "You're more than welcome to go try it, but you won't have my support. I'm here to find them."|
|Abe|| "Y'think I don't know how to tell a feral from a civil?" retorted Abe. The mask hid the curl of his lip and the quirk of his brow... It also hid the realization that he had not given the body a once over. "But.. yeah, lets be sure, just in case."
He checks his share of stiffs, checking some before hand with a nudge of his boot to their temple. Every time he pulls back his foot and not a stub means he's got a flatline and not just a sleeper.
Vuk speaks up and Abe wheels those lenses around on him even as he's fishing a few dollars from a ratty, old leather wallet he just fished out of a stiff's coat. "Good idea." he agrees, folding a few bills up and slipping them into a pocket. "Height makes right, or so they used to say." No one ever said that at all, Abe!
The Scribe glanced absently at the license within the wallet, long expired and a bit faded... "Thanks pal. Think of you when it's time to make a deposit at the bank." This is a turn of phrase.
"I'd be all for that... but if we come home full handed and without those bastards... Well, won't look clean will we." Abe mused as he tried... and failed to find a path from their vantage. "Shoulda bought a map.."
Beating feet on the ground, trudging it the hard way, Abe did pipe up after a moment, "You might have had a good idea, though... If they were after some goods, maybe we find them too on the way."
|Gorilla||As an aside, there is nothing preventing the group from turning around and leaving.. the problem is that they would then ahve to come up with their own ideas on what exactly it is they need to find. What is a carborator for example for an old world Chevy Ratter.. or some other car. Many of the requests made of the Irregulars are highly speciic and unusual. The sort that those who intentionally collect old world knowledge.. or are composed of primarly formley old-world civilians would know about. Also, tend not to hire a mercenary company when 3 dudes with guns would do. So the people who hire them have reasons to do so, but failure or refusing to do the mission is an option.
The group can remain however if they wish, and continue to search for a way through the radiation hazards. Doing so would likley give them a bit of radation poisioning but nothing that a bit of R&R won't fix or a bit of first aid.
Of course.. there is also the option of just rushing through the hazard and see where it takes them.
Either way, the top of the building they find isn't exactly clear on the most fast way through the problem areas. Perhaps an alternative could be found?
|Abe|| It's like... It's likke walking blind. Sure, there are obvious, tell-tale signs to be seen sometimes but when there isn't a pool of gleaming, toxic-green goo or a pile of yellow barrels in standing water, it becomes more difficult. So it's just Abe, his left arm held forward, feeling his way through cancer city...
Swinging his arm towards on building, the clicking dies. "Jackpot!" he pipes in what might have been too loud a voice. "Hey, this way." he waves to the others, directing them towards said building.
As for his reason for being here... The ghouls were a good hook. The chance of finding a Protectron or something still in it's pod was the bait. Even just parts would be handy, some of the old bots around town could use some love.
|Amos||Giving up on the roof, Amos makes his way back down to the street. "There's gotta be a way through this." It would make things a lot easier if he had a geiger counter of some sort, but for the moment all he had was the itching of his eyeballs. He starts to say something, Abe manages to find a path that won't cook their insides. "Good job, let's make tracks."|
|Vuk||Vuk was here for selfish reasons; but let us not dwell on that. Whilst Abe is finding a way through..Vuk has been moving in and out of buildings, ferreting through debris..or at least, it sounds like shattering glass, and he returns in time to hear a shout from Abe further along. "Ahh..I found a map." He announces, a bit to late, but he holds up the laminated map. "If all else, maybe we can use it to figure out where they might have gone if we can't find any more signs?"|
|Gorilla||The good news is that as the group makes their way through the radation field, there isn't much more exploration to do, in fact as they turn the corner.. they will see what appears to be litertally about four or five figures sitting outside of what appears to be a rather large multi-story building. The words 'Rumster's Robots' emblazoned in big letters. No doubt a small third party robotic shop of some sort..
The figures appear to be wearing gasmasks of some sort and going through what appear to be numerous crates and boxes and generally getting into all sorts of things. Papers sometimes stacked up, others wadded up and thrown away. There seems to be furthter movement in the shop.. and no doubt when the trio arrive on the scene.. the people scavenging the place seem totally unaware.
AT least for now.. they got better things to be doing. Probably.
|Vuk||Vuk knows a prime scav spot when he sees one! Just look at the loot they are hauling out. "Aww yes! Look at that stuff! There is probably a dozen working fuel cells in there..probably more then enough circuit boards to repair and reprogram some of those basic models every one wants for labour forces." Any pretense of Vuk -not- possibly getting them noticed just went out the window. "Hey! Ya'all find any working models in there? Un programmed? Those are worth a pretty penny!" He suddenly shouts out.|
|Amos||When they spot the group scavenging up at the robotics shop, Amos raises a hand and takes a step forward. And then Vuk steps forward and starts making noise. The ranger's gloved fist tightens a touch, before he pushes up and moves to approach the other group.
"You guys the Irregulars?" he asks, making sure he's visible and they know they're dealing with a Ranger. "We were asked to come find you."
|Abe|| "Come find you and ask you to get your pretty, little backsides back to town." added The Scribe as he strolled up behind Amos, his eyes flitting about like mad behind his goggles. This, this, this, this, this, this. It might be the break he was looking for.
"This.. is uh, this what had you folks runn out of town in a hurry? Snork around?"
Who the hell calls themselves Snork, rad-fried or not!
|Gorilla||One of the muffled voices from the group will pipe up almost immeaditly as Vuk walks into sight talking about robots. "The fuck? Who is this guy?" One of them will call out then as a few move to stands, already hands going to holsters, others moving their hands to their sides to grab at the barrels of machine guns held at their sides. Another one soon pipes up with a smokey voice. "Listen, 'Friend', scavvers rights. We are here first. You want want of the models inside, you pay for it. El- Is this guy with you?"
There is a pause then as they glance aside and looks between the rest of his group. "Well you found us. What? You here to collect a bounty? We arn't taking applications either." The smokey voiced one states before one of the others, still digging through the folders pipes up, "How the fuck did they get through the radiation? That shit nearly killed O'hennesey'. Still can't fin-"
"Shut it Jackson. We'll return to town when we get what we want. Who hired you? The Carshop Mechanic? Caravan Driver? The Bandit King? They have to wait their turn. Like everyone else. I can talk to the boss for you.. just tell us what you want.. and we'll be done here and we can get back to work."
|Vuk||Vuk was going to start to pointing out how if they -don't- fulfill their contract, they'd just end up losing any good will they had round these here parts. Except he doesn't even sound convincing when he does it. Because if they had -working- robots to unload, no one would care. "Eh...I'm not being paid enough to give a damn. Want me to help find any thing? I'll just take my cut in stims and kit." He offers; well, at least you know he can be bribed at the moment?|
|Abe||"Okay, okay, easy." piped the man behind the mask, hands lifted up... One held a laser pistol but still. "Yeah, part of the crew, charming, isn't he." Abe answered a moment later, lowering his hands. "We don't get paid until you guys head back. You don't want to head back until you get what you want. So heres a deal; let me help you?" Scribe McDonald steps forward and introduces himself, "Scribe Errant Abreham McDonald, pleased to meet, you, at your service and other such bullshit." he proclaims, "So what are we looking for, a positronic computational board. combat inhibitor chip, laser-grade capacitors, focusing lenses, some old debugging manual? Maybe it's just some of those dumb, fiddly little allen wrenches that they use so good, hard working, honest people can't crack something open and see what's inside?" some of that might be made up. the Alan Wrench bit is very real, too real. "If it's here, it'll be in their inventory, if it's in their inventory, it'll be in their system, if it's in their system then you get me to a computer and I'll have it for you in a snap."|
|Amos||"To be honest, I'm not sure who hired us. They want you to go back to looking for artifacts for them. But it's obvious you're here for /something/." Amos rests his hands on his hips, just so he's close to his holster if talks go sour. "I ain't got a problem helping you look for something, or even clearing a place out if you need me to. Basically anything that'd get you done quicker here."
Almost as if to prove a point he pulls his gun and fires, blowing the top portion off a weathervane, before spinning the revolver and tucking it away.
|Gorilla||"Whatever, just don't get in our way buddy." THe smokey voiced individual in the Gasmask responds, the figure dressed in what appears to be a mixture of off-white cream and blue decals, leather and the like painted in signs of the old world, the gasmask clearly obscuring the face, with a small hoody or generally some other hood to obscure his face. "What? The Inventory? Henry have you gotten into the Robco terminal with the inventory?" He'll ask then into a radio on his shoulder.
A voice crackles back, "What? FUCK no! Steve's found some Holodisks with games on em, fuck the terminal. I'll get it do-" Gasmask switches the radio off. "Inside. On the counter. On the left. Johnson. Follow them." He'll mutter before motioning to them. "Find what we want on there and we'll double time it back. Probably."
"Right, might even let you all fucking look around too. Fuck it. Why not. No taking anything without permission though. Or you are a dead men. Rule of the wasteland and all that. Get to it."
|Amos||"Hear you loud and clear." Amos taps out a mock salute to the gasmask outside and heads in with the others. Though truth be told, the man isn't the most technologically inclined, nor is he sure what the fuck a McGuffin is. But he sure does look for something that might look like one, with very little success.|
|Abe|| Two fingers cock off of the helmet's brow in a mock salute, "On it."
His but is soon in a chair and he starts in, forgetting to plug that little computer in his arm into the other computer on the desk. It didn't seem to matter much. His fingers fly across the keys and soon he's in the inventory. "Em, Cee, Ge, Ew, Ef, Ef, Ay, In." he recites as he punches the name into the stock checker. The computer hums and clicks for a moment before flashing to a screen. "Right, stock room G, Shelf 12, Bin K32." he reads off.
|Vuk||Vuk actually just..sort of disappears off into the building, it's a controlled sort of chaos when you try to find things in short order. He's double checking where they've looked, and then carefully prying open lids on boxes they haven't..before he entire screws off on his own. Where as one might think he had a sense of sanity, he's actually checking ..the employee bathroom. "Found it." he says loudly..then shouting. "Didn't any one think to take out the back of the hand dryer? Damn. There's an entire working.." it trails off, he isn't sure what it is.|
|Abe||"A lot of these old world assholes used Password as their password." Scribe Mcdonald prattled as they made their way. Don't be like these- "It was in the hand dryer?!"|
|Gorilla||Whatever the McGuffin is, when the group returns it to Snork's ireggulars, or really the man who had agreed to let them work with him, the gasmasked person looks it over, and throws it aside. "Peice of ucking junk. This entire thing was busted. Records indicated there was some good old world music here.. and all we found are som-HANK GET OFF THOSE FUCKING GAMES!" The Gaskmasked game screams out at one of the nearby Irregular and smack him at the terminal. No doubt the entire group over the next few hours would pack up their goods and get out of dodge.. and get back to work.
That is until they got distracted again.