MadCast: VoShay

Apocalypse World Play By Post

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Please only post in this thread if you are a participant.  Post here if you are interested in commenting on stuff. This game concerns a dark future where people struggle to survive; be advised that strong language, strong violence, and sexual themes may be present. Every effort will be made to keep everything (except language) at a PG-13 rating. You have been warned.

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The world ended more than fifty years ago. And yet, here you are. Scavenging. Struggling. Every day yearning for one more breath, one more sip of water. The human animal in you won't give up, even though every bone in your body knows the world will only get worse; only slip further and further into darkness. But you aren't dead yet. You sneer, you grit your teeth, you look death in the eye and tell him to fuck right off- this is your land, this is your stuff, and your heart still beats in your chest. This is Apocalypse World.

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Chris Edwards Jr:

It's mid-morning. You just got to the watering hole looking to wet your whistle. The whiskey from last night leaves a foul-taste on your tongue and a pounding headache in your skull. As you get close, you see the Valens gang eyeing you. The leader, Ricardo, spits on the ground inches from your foot. 'Hey, gringo! You think you can show up and just drink our water, every fucking day, without doing any real work? Who do you think you are, asshole?" He stands up. The kid's only 5'4, at best, but his jet-black mohawk adds another foot and you can see sinew tensing under his dilapidated bomber jacket. His two brothers stand at his back- nearly mirror images in faded blue jeans and torn white t-shirts. Given their lack of jackets, you can see the softball-sized biceps tense up.

What do you do?

 

Eliza:

You rub your face and wonder what woke you up. Your foggy brain comes into clarity as you realize someone is hollering at the top of their lungs outside your home. You shift up and look out a window. You see Mark Mackerson- He's one of the gearheads in the biker gang that stopped by for barter and resupply. You briefly remember taking some oddments in exchange for fixing his bike. You remember fixing it, but not delivering it. You don't remember him hanging from a snare, just two feet from your front door, screaming at the top of his lungs. His voice drifts in, 'Cut me down from this rope you shiftless fucking gearhead! Where the fuck is my bike?! You promised it by noon. Suns coming down and I still ain't got a fucking bike! You got 1 minute to cut me down before I start screaming for my boys to come over here and wreck your pretty little shop!"

What do you do?

 

Harper Rabbit:

You are in the middle of communing with your altar when one of your acolytes, Pip, comes skidding in. "Boss! Boss! The Jones are getting into it with the Macaroys! They can't decide what the last prophecy means Boss! Oh, Shit!" Pip ducks behind a couch that has discolored from the decades of misuse and a gaunt man with a shock of yellow hair comes tumbling in. His nose is bloodied and his eyes unfocused. He holds up his hands and cries out, "Sanctuary, Ray, sanctuary! I'm in the church now!" The other man, broad shouldered with a permanent scowl, bald head, and a curving scar at his lip sneers. "Miss Rabbit. Chucky here says the Macaroys are gonna take on a water debt because the prophecy said, 'The current shifts. Away from the mountain and to the beanstalk.' I don't know what the fuck he's thinking, but he ain't gonna stir up no fucking shit with my family and squelch. I don't care if his field ran dry. I'll take the water from his fucking corpse before he shifts that shit on me." Chuck flinches and drags himself behind you. "Miss Rabbit I's just talking to George is all. Ray heard me and started the dustup. Just idle words is all!"

What do you do?

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Stav:

It's about mid-day when you finish inspecting the Biofarm that keeps the lights on back at your hold. The workers felt exposed, bitched about it, and dragged your ass out here again to check the defenses. For the third time this month. You'd cuff the silly son of a bitch but you got better things to do. When you get back to town, you see a messenger from Priscilla's Pirates at the edge of your hold. She grins at you, at least three teeth missing and an obvious tan around her eyes from the goggles that gang wears on the waterways. "Parley! Parley! Here to talk Mr. Stav! Prissy's got a little something for ya. That's all!" She unzips her jacket, revealing a tight corset and little more than short shorts, and stops waving to reach into her jacket and pull out a piece of parchment. It takes only a brief moment to realize the parchment is human skin.

What do you do?

Edited by MadCast: VoShay

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Chris glances at these Valens cats that have decided to challenge him on another day which can only be described as hell. He hadn't been around long, but he knows for a fact he wasn't taking any shit from these clowns. "I was actually just trying to enjoy my hangover assholes, and I will drink your water every fucking day, want to know why? Because Betsy said I could. And in case you don't know who Betsy is, let me re-introduce her to you." Chris yanks out his trusty M-16 assault rifle, fully loaded. "If you don't think she's loaded and safety's off, go ahead and test it, she's been looking for some practice"

2d6+1 = 5  #GoAggro

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The Valens stop in their tracks and narrow their eyes as you go for your gun. You make ready for war as fast as you can, but by the time your eyes are down range on the sights, you see two pistols and a shotgun pointed your way. Apparently, not only were they packing but they got enough speed to keep up with you. "Hey, vato, that's real cute. Betsy's a fucking doll ese. How about you let her come play with us for a while and we forget this conversation happened. Unless you think your faster, you pasty-faced puta bitch.' He glares down his sights back at you. "Tick tock, tick tock. What's it gonna be?"

Chris, what do you do?

Edited by MadCast: VoShay

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"I'll just make an example out of you clowns. IF any of you are lucky enough to survive, don't you ever let me see you or anybody that even can spell the word Valen ever again. Betsy, speak, blast ALL of these fuckers."

 2d6+1 = 11  #AutoFire

Assault/Secure Position (Force withdraw/Take little harm/Force way onto enemy position)

Besty spoke all right. The Valens barely had a chance to react before the bullets riddled their bodies and found themselves in the sand. "Damn, I meant to leave one of you standing, how is my message gonna get passed along now?" Chris became aware of the small crowd that had gathered. "Anyone else wanna fuck with me?" The crowd quickly dispersed. "Heh." Chris grunted as he stepped over the bodies as he went back to the watering hole and got his drink. "I need to find that clown Wheeler again, good dude."

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Chris: 

Everyone clears out of the watering hole, a couple of people with a new hole in a leg or arm. No one wants to mess with you. As you finish your drink, you see a half dozen of Slav's goons standing nearby. They've got a loose hand on their over-slung rifles and hip holsters, depending on what the individual is packing. The man in front has long curly hair, a broad forehead, and a handlebar mustache. He wears a puke green poncho and a frown. "Hey, uh... Chris, right? Special Chris? I know the Valens were punks but we uh, can't let this just happen. You gotta talk to Slav. Like, now, man." He gestures with the barrel of his rifle towards the center of town, but he seems to be doing his best not to threaten you. 

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14 minutes ago, MadCast: VoShay said:

Harper Rabbit:

You are in the middle of communing with your altar when one of your acolytes, Pip, comes skidding in. "Boss! Boss! The Jones are getting into it with the Macaroys! They can't decide what the last prophecy means Boss! Oh, Shit!" Pip ducks behind a couch that has discolored from the decades of misuse and a gaunt man with a shock of yellow hair comes tumbling in. His nose is bloodied and his eyes unfocused. He holds up his hands and cries out, "Sanctuary, Ray, sanctuary! I'm in the church now!" The other man, broad shouldered with a permanent scowl, bald head, and a curving scar at his lip sneers. "Miss Rabbit. Chucky here says the Macaroys are gonna take on a water debt because the prophecy said, 'The current shifts. Away from the mountain and to the beanstalk.' I don't know what the fuck he's thinking, but he ain't gonna stir up no fucking shit with my family and squelch. I don't care if his field ran dry. I'll take the water from his fucking corpse before he shifts that shit on me." Chuck flinches and drags himself behind you. "Miss Rabbit I's just talking to George is all. Ray heard me and started the dustup. Just idle words is all!"

What do you do

6

"My little pixels..." She sighs endearingly, like a mother. "The prophecies do not relay such things." She leans over to pick up Pip and walks him over to Chucky. "In order to succeed in this world, we must work together. I have been communing with the almighty washing machine, and I have deciphered the prophecy to mean this: The current that runs through technology is shifting... from a previously thought unreachable resource to our small community of devout worshipers. We must become more resolute in our endeavors to support the community commercially so that when this new technology arrives, we can be blessed by it instantly. In fact, if you all are here, then it must be because you can help me learn hidden knowledge of this prophecy. We must consult the almighty at once!" She looks earnestly at each of them and smiles. 

krissydear:2D6+2 → 8(3 +3 + 2)#Manipulate

They all fall to their knees in front of the altar of technology/washing machine and sit quietly. After a few moments, Harper starts to tremble and then begins to whisper excitedly. "We have been given a gift of knowledge. The newcomer... Special Chris. He is here to lead us to this new technology. He has a special link to this technology that will bless us with it. We must fortify our group and support him where we can. That is the only way we will be successful." She breathes a sigh of relief. 

"Now... quit squabbling over this nonsense and go prove yourself worthy of the tremendous gift we are about to get!" Having been pacified, Macaroy leaves looking temporarily mollified while the others leave excitedly. 

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Harper:

It's a quiet afternoon before it gives away to evening. Suddenly there's a knock on the door, followed by it opening. You see a slip of a boy being held between the arms of several of Slav's guards, crowded by a half dozen of your acolytes. The man in front, Dev, calls out. "Water Thief! Water Thief! We demand the Gods' Trial!" The God's trial is an.... interesting custom. The accused is put into the altar machine and spends an entire cycle inside. If they survive, they are considered cleansed of their sins. However, its quite unlikely this boy will survive.

What do you do?

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Stav reaches out and takes the parchment. For fucks sake. "You tell Prissy that this type of bullshit may work on idiots like yourself. Ain't work on me."

He sighs and looks out towards the horizon to the east for the hundredth time today. The fuck are you Wheeler.

Finally, he pulls a monocle out of his vest and holds the parchment up to his eye, scanning the barely legible scratches.

After a moment he looks up. "We sell paper in the marketplace."

 

OOC: At the start of each session I roll my wealth move to check the current prosperity of the community. Not set up on rolz yet, but I rolled a 9, hardholder's honor. On a 7-9 I have surplus (+3 barter), but choose one want. I choose "strangers." What's the letter say?

 

Edited by MadCast: Khaos

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Stav:

Jessica's semi-toothy smile doesn't falter, and she sidles up next to you to look over your shoulder at the parchment; her sweaty arms sticking to your coat and the distinct feeling of the warmth of another body stretching across your back. Your eyes dart back and forth to read the parchment. Dearest Stav, It has been too long since we spoke. I have a job that requires more than a few hands. I sent a treat along with my message- I hope you enjoy it! <3 If you are interested, come to my compound with a few of your boys worth talking to and we'll settle up for earning some jingle. I could ask Mark but we both know that tool isn't interested in anything but the skin game. Keep in touch sugar. Priscilla, Queen of the Desert

Jessica speaks in your ear, a hair too loud. 'What's it say, Mr.Stav? Am I staying here or do I have a message to bring back?"

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Stav takes a noticeable step away from Jessica. He turns to Blades, an armed woman standing at attention nearby. "Go get Rose, Stitch, and Hangnail. Make sure Rose is loaded for bear."

He turns back to Jessica. "Stay right there."

A few minutes later, a dilapidated military-spec hummer pulls up to the pair, sporting an atrocious pink paint job. Stitch hops out of the driver's seat, and mans the turret. Stav points at Jessica. "Get in the backseat." Blades opens the rear passenger door to let her in. Hangnail looks like he is about to say something inappropriate to Jessica, but cuts off at a glare from Stav.

Gunshots ring out as Betsy sings. The hell is shooting up my town?

Stav takes the wheel and drives towards the disturbance.

Edited by MadCast: Khaos

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17 hours ago, MadCast: VoShay said:

Harper:

It's a quiet afternoon before it gives away to evening. Suddenly there's a knock on the door, followed by it opening. You see a slip of a boy being held between the arms of several of Slav's guards, crowded by a half dozen of your acolytes. The man in front, Dev, calls out. "Water Thief! Water Thief! We demand the Gods' Trial!" The God's trial is an.... interesting custom. The accused is put into the altar machine and spends an entire cycle inside. If they survive, they are considered cleansed of their sins. However, its quite unlikely this boy will survive.

What do you do?

He is but a child.... Harper thinks immediately. She sighs. "Who does this boy belong to? That first, I need to know." She looks at the boy severely, although her thoughts repeat: only a child. "And then we hear from the boy. If he is old enough to steal then he should be old enough to explain himself to me. Put him in front of the altar." Her eyes flicker...

Flashback: A taller girl in a burning building, searching for some safe place. Other, much smaller children running behind her. She spies a tall cylinder, much larger than her and attached to the wall. It is very, very old, but it seems to have an opening at the top. She manages to climb it, her feet slipping and the other children trying to follow her up. She gets atop it and pulls it open. It smells dank and the sound of water sloshing hits her ears. Safe. She looks down at the other children, their eyes pleading for help, screaming her name to help them up too. But there is only room for one. She kicks them all down towards the flames and then slinks into the tank herself, the gross water covering her body. Submerged, she can hear the screams of her name and then, only the sound of burning. 

Edited by MadCast: Vyoletta
spoken words were colored

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The guard in front, Stitch, exchanges glances with Blades. He seems uneasy to be the one talking to Harper, but he finds his courage readily enough. "He's with that new family just drifted in. Looked like thieves, I tell ya, you can jus-" He stops at a sharp glance from Blades. Her look of displeasure is clear. A certain similarity in the faces of her and the boy is clear... the old word was Jewish? The boy looks up at Harper, eyes full of tears backed by a spine not common in the wastes. "I'm...I'm Voltron. I didn't steal. We needed water. My pa has the blood shakes and,' he stops as Stitch cuffs him. The boy grimaces through a split lip. "Don't care that your pa's got an illness. Outsiders pay for water. Every. Time. Signs posted, and if you can't read anyone will tell ya." Blades chuffs as she comments under her breath. "As if you've ever been able to read, shit for brains." Stitch glares back at her as they wait for you to speak up.

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Eliza:

You rub your face and wonder what woke you up. Your foggy brain comes into clarity as you realize someone is hollering at the top of their lungs outside your home. You shift up and look out a window. You see Mark Mackerson- He's one of the gearheads in the biker gang that stopped by for barter and resupply. You briefly remember taking some oddments in exchange for fixing his bike. You remember fixing it, but not delivering it. You don't remember him hanging from a snare, just two feet from your front door, screaming at the top of his lungs. His voice drifts in, 'Cut me down from this rope you shiftless fucking gearhead! Where the fuck is my bike?! You promised it by noon. Suns coming down and I still ain't got a fucking bike! You got 1 minute to cut me down before I start screaming for my boys to come over here and wreck your pretty little shop!"

What do you do?

Eliza gripped the worn treads of the tractor tire encircling the straw and rags she slept on, and hoisted herself up onto the edge. Drifters brought things. Gigs. News. Scrap. Problems. Fuss. Hold-folk knew better than to come into the yard. 

She scrubbed the sleep crud from the corner of her mouth with the back of a greasy hand and shuffled through her collection of trinkets and oddities to the back door. The cantata of curses broke momentarily as the door scraped open, and then resumed with added volume. A sad huff of hot air stirred the hair hanging in her eyes as she passed between the carcasses of old machines littering the yard. Usually people brought her what they found when they found it, knowing they'd need her services sooner or later. There were others who fixed things, sure, but Eliza had a way with the machines that others didn't. Sometimes she even made new ones, like the bicycle powered diffuser pumps used at the Biofarm. 

As Eliza reached her shop, Mark caught sight of her. "HEY! GEARHEAD! Hey! HEY!"

Unperturbed, she tugged open the sliding door and pulled the bike upright from where it was leaning against a shelf  of tools on the right. It was a nice bike, lean, light-weight. The seat had recently been recovered in bright orange leather with matching saddlebags. It was the kind of bike she would ride herself, if she was ever inclined to leave the hold. Eliza rolled the bike out of the shop and looked over at Mark, who was swaying gently by his left ankle and beginning to turn an unhealthy shade of maroon. 

"You CUNT!" he wheezed. "Cut me down!"

Eliza rolled the bike over to the gate, and put down the kickstand. Then she walked back towards her front door, and stopping a few feet from Mark. "You know," she said seriously, "I have a bell."

 

----

I painted/photobashed a picture of the shop:

Shop.png

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Eliza:

"You bitch." Mark wheezed again as he tried to catch his breath. "Fucking, Ding. Ding Dong. Let me down before I get someone to really ring your bell." He swayed slightly as he stretched out to grab at her in frustration. "You have any idea who you are fucking with?" It's likely you do. Mark Mackerson's Marauders liked to pretend they were like any other gang of choppers, riding the roads on their bikes looking for work, salvage, and trade. What Mackerson's real trade tended to be was the skin game. Men, women, children- if you were easy enough to tie to a bike and didn't force them to put a bullet in you to save on trouble, he'd find a place happy to buy you. An old couple who lost a kid and wished to have one again, A factory looking for work- those were the fairy tale endings. Hard work in a gunk pit or a brothel was the usual one. At the end of the day, though, Mackerson had twenty brutes happy to start a fight, and the hold didn't have enough to win that war easy.

What do you do?

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The blue blood vessel travels on the vein quickly making its way to the heart. The package of deoxygenated blood travels onward, waiting to be restored to its oxygenated form. The vein is twisting, dangerous, and any unlucky cut to the skin could end blue blood vessel’s vital mission. This is the cycle; it takes resources to leave and bring resources back. The heart can only hope that enough of these vessels make it back so that it can continue function.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A man in worn, dusty clothes scans the horizon for vehicle dust trails. Nothing. Another day of nothing and my gas is getting low. Stav doesn’t like me staying out this late but I need to bring back some sort of useful information. The man pulls down his face mask revealing dry chapped lips. Unscrewing his canteen, he takes a swig of water, “Ah much better.” He begins to walk over at his car, Precious, and opens the door revealing a very spartan interior. The rabbit foot dangling from the rear view mirror swings with the dry dusty wind. “Come on Precious, daddy’s gotta get home so he can take care of you.” The key turns in the ignition and the car begins to rumble but clunks out. “Precious we don’t have time for this today. Come on baby girl you can do it.” Again the key turns, rumbles, and clunks out. “Precious, if I die no one will take care of you the way I do. You’ll get turned into some raider junk truck and you’ll be miserable. So please, please work for me baby.” This time the rumbling gains purchase and Precious lets out a loud roar. “THAT’S MY GIRL! Come on lets get outta here.”

Edited by MadCast: Icarus

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As the battle scarred vehicle rolls carefully through town, Stav looks at the rear view mirror and watches Jessica as she stares out the window.

Next to her, Blades sits and fiddles with a dagger. Hangnail is poised to Stav’s right, half hanging out the window with a street sweeper. Stitch’s legs are restless as he stands in the turret. His people are jumpy. Everyone know the sound of an automatic rifle, no matter how rare they are.

The vehicle gently turns left down a dusty alley between a few huts.

He turns his head towards Jessica and grunts to get her attention. ”Are you satisfied with this life?”

Edited by MadCast: Khaos

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23 hours ago, MadCast: VoShay said:

Chris: 

Everyone clears out of the watering hole, a couple of people with a new hole in a leg or arm. No one wants to mess with you. As you finish your drink, you see a half dozen of Slav's goons standing nearby. They've got a loose hand on their over-slung rifles and hip holsters, depending on what the individual is packing. The man in front has long curly hair, a broad forehead, and a handlebar mustache. He wears a puke green poncho and a frown. "Hey, uh... Chris, right? Special Chris? I know the Valens were punks but we uh, can't let this just happen. You gotta talk to Slav. Like, now, man." He gestures with the barrel of his rifle towards the center of town, but he seems to be doing his best not to threaten you. 

Chris looks these goons up and down. "You look nervous, good. Stay that way. I'll talk to your Stav, but if you even think about taking my gun I'll think about taking your life, clear private?"

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Khaos:

Jessica blinks at Stav. "Satisfied? I go to bed hungry unless I find someone else's to warm. Your bed stays warm and your belly full because you take from others, just like Prissy. The strong take and the weak beg. If you're good at it, maybe you stay alive." She looks at a passing home, then back at Stav. "Sex and food are better than a lot of things you can get in the wastes, babe. Maybe you feel differently; but if you do, you're wrong." She reaches gingerly for a canteen from Blades, who glares at her, and then she reaches up and, after a soft pet at the inseam, scores one off of Stitch and takes a long swig. Her eyes are on Stav the entire time. "Score Sex 1, the guy who thinks he's better than he is, 0." The car pulled to a stop in front of the watering hole. It was a fucking bloodbath. Three men lying on the ground, blood pooling around them. The Valen boys. Bunch of little shits who thought they were bigger than they were, but they did good work as back up toughs for the militia. Fuck. Another half dozen men were in a standoff with one guy. That new one. Chris.

What do you do?

Chris:

Brett's adam's apple bobs as he tries to swallow, but his mouth is dry. He nods carefully. "Not looking for more trouble, Fella. Just..." His words trail off as they notice a battle-worn vehicle pulling up. They make room and wait for the occupants to decamp. 

What do you do?

Icarus:

You pull into town, looking to make your way through the middle to get to where you're going. as you turn down the road that takes you past the watering hole, you are forced to stop because of the commotion in front of you. You see Stav's battle wagon, half a dozen of his soldiers, and a guy with a huge gun staring them down. You can't make your way past them easily. 

What do you do?

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"Blades, when was the last time you fucked a man you didn't want to?"

"Your scrawny ass last night."

"Fuck you."

"I'm good. Still traumatized." She tries, and fails, to hide a smile.

Hangnail starts laughing.

"Fuck both of you."

"I'm with Blades, boss. Hard pass."

Stav makes eye contact with Jessica and raises one finger in the air. "The point! I may not be a good man. But I'm not what you think I am."

He moves to open the door. "And I sure as shit ain't just like Prissy."

He steps into the blistering sun, ignoring Chris and his men and walking over to the corpses. He bends down, noting how their weapons are lying on the ground. Pistols drawn. Aggressive half circle. Stupid fucks.

Stav stands and addresses the guards. "The verdict is self-defense. Spread the word. The Valens drew first."

The six guards visibly relax as Stav begins speaking to Chris. "Three men, with guns drawn." He looks at the buildings behind where Chris was standing during the firefight. "And they didn't get a shot off. Not bad. But please, for my sake, try not to kill any more people here in the market. Peace is good for business."

He gestures towards Hangnail, who frowns, but dutifully gets out of the front seat of the vehicle, and climbs in next to Stitch's legs.

"I've got to go deal with a real piece of shit outside of town. Says she's got a job for me and a few handpicked men. Probably a trap, but now I got personal business with her, and we're going. I could use your help, and I'm paying." [Specifically, he is offering 1-barter if you join up for this job.] He points to the front passenger seat. "What do you say?"

[OOC: For the sake of this, I haven't yet noticed Wheeler roll up.]

 

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1 hour ago, MadCast: VoShay said:

Icarus:

You pull into town, looking to make your way through the middle to get to where you're going. as you turn down the road that takes you past the watering hole, you are forced to stop because of the commotion in front of you. You see Stav's battle wagon, half a dozen of his soldiers, and a guy with a huge gun staring them down. You can't make your way past them easily. 

What do you do?

[OOC: Joshua Wheeler doesn't just "pull into town". He is heralded by the roar of Precious' supercharged 5.4L V8 engine]

Wheeler pulls Precious next to Stav's vehicle but before he can shut off the engine,

Precious backfires and clunks out. Guards jerk up looking where the gunshot came from but all they can see is Wheeler beating the steering wheel. "Precious I'm getting tired of your shit!" Flustered and exhausted Wheeler exits the vehicle and immediately notices the recent bloodbath that had taken place. "Jesus Stav you're losing your touch; I'm a week late from a supply run and the town goes to hell. Wait is that Ricardo? Dammit that guy owed me money! Who will pay his poker debt now? Oh well, like that scumbag was going to pay it anyway." Wheeler looks at Stav's entourage and immediately looks away. Why is she here!?  Wheeler hadn't seen Jessica since his gunrunning days years ago and he wished it would stay that way. Wherever she popped up trouble followed. 

 

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Eliza:

"You bitch." Mark wheezed again as he tried to catch his breath. "Fucking, Ding. Ding Dong. Let me down before I get someone to really ring your bell." He swayed slightly as he stretched out to grab at her in frustration. "You have any idea who you are fucking with?" It's likely you do. Mark Mackerson's Marauders liked to pretend they were like any other gang of choppers, riding the roads on their bikes looking for work, salvage, and trade. What Mackerson's real trade tended to be was the skin game. Men, women, children- if you were easy enough to tie to a bike and didn't force them to put a bullet in you to save on trouble, he'd find a place happy to buy you. An old couple who lost a kid and wished to have one again, A factory looking for work- those were the fairy tale endings. Hard work in a gunk pit or a brothel was the usual one. At the end of the day, though, Mackerson had twenty brutes happy to start a fight, and the hold didn't have enough to win that war easy.

What do you do?

Eliza squinted up at his entrapped ankle. No need to waste good cable cord; it could be tied back, but it'd be a little shorter, a little weaker. "Don't remember where my cutter's at." She turned, looking around the yard for a solution. Notably, she did not see anyone else making their way down hill to Mark's assistance. Yet. Her eyes settled on the step ladder leaned up against the frame of a partially dismantled plane. "Wait here." 

"WAIT HERE?! Is that a joke, bitch?" Mark let out a howl of frustration at her back, punctuated with more curses. "Take your sweet fucking time then! You'll be lucky if you come out of this alive!"

Many of Eliza's clients threatened her; posturing was a habit everyone learned. Even so, most weren't so quick to pull the trigger as they promised. Making good on your threats cost something, and few people had blood to spare. Besides, she was worth a considerable sum alive and fixing things. Eliza dragged the step ladder back through the dirt, leaving little divots in the ground as the rusty edges of the legs bounced along. As she approached, Mark stopped struggling so hard and glared at her.

 

[OOC] How big is Mark? 

Edited by MadCast: RedJustice

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On 8/9/2018 at 4:30 PM, MadCast: VoShay said:

The guard in front, Stitch, exchanges glances with Blades. He seems uneasy to be the one talking to Harper, but he finds his courage readily enough. "He's with that new family just drifted in. Looked like thieves, I tell ya, you can jus-" He stops at a sharp glance from Blades. Her look of displeasure is clear. A certain similarity in the faces of her and the boy is clear... the old word was Jewish? The boy looks up at Harper, eyes full of tears backed by a spine not common in the wastes. "I'm...I'm Voltron. I didn't steal. We needed water. My pa has the blood shakes and,' he stops as Stitch cuffs him. The boy grimaces through a split lip. "Don't care that your pa's got an illness. Outsiders pay for water. Every. Time. Signs posted, and if you can't read anyone will tell ya." Blades chuffs as she comments under her breath. "As if you've ever been able to read, shit for brains." Stitch glares back at her as they wait for you to speak up.

As they speak, Harper moves her gaze over each of them. Stitch. Unforgiving. Blades. Empathetic. The Child.  If she handled this correctly, she might have an ally in one of them. She sighs. If only the boy were a few years older... she would have no qualms putting him through the Divine Trial then.

The guards continue to bicker as the boy shivers in front of them, kneeling in front of the altar. Suddenly, Harper has a new thought. Or rather, she remembers something. Stav. The self appointed leader. Normally, Harper avoids him, avoids the conflict, but he might prove to be useful in this instance. 

"Well." She speaks, her voice tense. The guards shift uneasily in front of her. "Blades," Her gaze is respectful but imperious. "I believe I would gain the ire of your boss if I did not at least present him with the case beforehand. These things are generally handled by the Divine Trial, but he and I made an agreement." To them, her voice sounds irritated as if she knows she must placate him in order for things to be peaceful. She looks at Stitch, who is grimacing. "Can you arrange a tribunal with Stav, so that he may be present for this discussion and the eventual trial?"

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Stitch opens his mouth to protest, but Harper continues, "Or should we send Blades? She can let him know that you wanted to start without him."  After a moment of consideration, Stitch shuts his mouth. Blades gives Harper a nod. "He will arrange it." The guards share a look before exiting the tent; the boy looking confused for a moment as he sits in front of Harper. She gives him a reassuring smile.  There is another sound at the tent flap as Blades rushes back in. "The boy." She says gruffly. "Voltron," Harper corrects, as the pair leaves the tent. Finally, Harper is left alone... for now. 

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Chris hesitates a moment at Stav's offer, and then nods. As Chris climbs into shotgun, Stav finally turns towards Wheeler, a genuine smile crossing his face.

He races up to the driver, and wraps him in a real embrace. "Brother! Thought you were dead this time for sure." He takes a look at Precious and grimaces. "Looks like you need to visit Eliza. Let's make it quick. We owe Prissy a visit." Stitch and Blades hop out and hitch tow cables onto Precious.

Stav climbs in the back seat next to Jessica. He checks his pistol to make sure the chamber is clear and holsters it.

"When you are ready Wheeler."

Edited by MadCast: Khaos

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