MadCast: RedJustice

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About MadCast: RedJustice

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    Her Royal Glitterness

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  1. Apocalypse World Play By Post

    Eliza passed a hand over the hood vents just in case, but Precious had been quiet for a good while now, and was cool to the touch. She reached around to the side and undid the latches. The real work would probably have to wait til morning light, but might as well take a look at the damage now. Wheeler loved racing her across fields, ditches, and debris, caking Precious’s arteries with grime, and rattling loose the tenuous repairs that held her together. The hood hinges groaned, and a cloud of dust dumped itself over the engine and Eliza. She took a step back, coughing, just as Stupid Stav-goon strode around and leaned against Precious casually. He certainly was persistent. Eliza squinted distrustfully at him. “Sorry, I believe I may have come across as rude earlier, the tension and threat of being suspended in the air by one foot can get to everyone.” He talked funny. Eliza considered him more closely. His clothes were strange too, old, but not so worn and dirty as they should be. The toes of his boots were barely scuffed. “I'm Chris. Used to be a soldier, part of the STASIS program.” Used to be a soldier? she thought. Most only cared about today anymore. He was being uncommonly polite to her, but perhaps that’s just the way he did things. Perhaps he knew of her and wanted something fixed. She fished into her tool belt for her flashlight and stepped back to Precious, scanning from left to right for anything obviously out of place. “What’s Stasis?”
  2. Member to Member Award Nominations

    I nominate @MadCast: Mike for the Potato Badge for losing the game of Hot Potato in the 2 Rooms and a Boom game today.
  3. Apocalypse World Play By Post

    For a moment, Eliza thought Mark was going to start a fight, but the sound of his men approaching seemed to remind him of something. He turned abruptly and made his way across the yard, giving a wide berth to Stupid Stav-goon's gun. Stav followed, grimacing each time his left foot touched the ground. A pack of motorcycles breached the hill a little too fast for safety, engines snarling. "I'm fucking done with you two. Maybe in a week, or a month, I'll feel different. But today..." Mark spit and settled into his seat, keeping deliberate eye contact with Stav. "Go fuck yourselves." Eliza bent down to pick up the step ladder. Her fingers closed around the crisply folded slip of paper Mark had dropped in the dirt, sweeping it up between the palm of her hand and the step ladder. It might be nothing, but best to keep it out of sight until there weren't so many little tweeters watching. As she straightened, Stav brandished his scalpels in response and she froze, fingertips twitching like a rabbit's nose. Mark was not the type of person to walk away from a threat to his pride. ...hhhhhhurrrrr-urrr-urrr-URRRRRRR... A few yards away, Stupid Stav-goon dropped to one knee and trained his gun on Mark. ...urrr-urrr-urrr-URRRRRRR... A heart beat too long, and then, unbelievably, Mark peeled out to join the rest of the Maruaders, leaving Stav in a spray of gravel and dust. She blew out her breath upwards to displace the bits of hair that had fallen in her eyes and turned to lean the ladder up against the side of the house. The Marauders must be in an awfully big hurry, luckily for them. Mark was right though; they'd been coming through the hold for years, and they'd be back. It wouldn't be a pleasant encounter if Stav was still around. She dropped the paper into the deep pocket of her tool belt with a bouquet of wrenches. "...lady, how many fucking traps are necessary in this yard? What are you trying to catch, a fucking elephant?" Stupid Stav-goon was talking to her. Fuss must be over then. At the gate, the others began to chatter as the tension dissipated. Wheeler. There he was. Ignoring the predicament of Stupid Stav-goon, she traversed the yard and sidled around behind Stav towards Precious. ---- I made a picture of the yard around dusk (fence and gate behind the camera somewhere):
  4. Apocalypse World Play By Post

    Eliza watched Stav's wagon unload. Tall Stav-goon, meaty asshole Stav-goon, stab-happy Stav-goon. There were others chattering in the back of the wagon. If Precious was hooked to the back of the wagon, Wheeler must be one. Unless he was dead. Eliza hoped he wasn't dead. Wheeler usually brought her interesting trinkets and useful things, sometimes information. She needed to ask him if he'd seen any old irrigation rigs while out driving. To her dismay, Stav walked straight through the open gate and plunged forward into the pit trap next to a pile of stripped bicycle frames. Served him right. Hold-folk knew better than to come into the yard. “For fuck’s sake, Eliza. Is this really necessary?” To her left, Mark muttered his agreement. Yes, she thought. Little clouds of dust puffed out of Stav's jacket and left chalky smears as he brushed himself down and adjusted his belt. Carefully he limped forward, pausing each step to survey the ground in front of him and favor his left foot. Behind him, someone Eliza did not recognize emerged from the wagon. Big gun Stav-goon. Unbelievably, he marched into the yard after Stav. Stupid Stav-goon, then. She wondered which trap he would end up in. At this point, she just wanted to clear everyone out of the yard before the Mauraders made an appearance and it turned into a gun fight in the dark. The sun was already hovering over the horizon line and the cicadas were buzzing their low, irritating song. Mark hit the ground like a sack of cement mix, and her eyes snapped back to watch him. "Are you ok, Eliza?" Eliza grunted noncommittally. Who was Stav putting on a show for? Of course she was fine. Wasn't her who fell in a trap. She eased backward as Mark lurched to his knees and half tripped over the ladder, woozy and blinded by the blood rushing from his head. She wanted to see if Stupid Stav-goon had encountered one of her traps yet, but Mark was the immediate threat. She did not take her eyes off him.
  5. Apocalypse World Play By Post

    Eliza propped the ladder upright in front of her, and inched it forward like a battleshield between her and Mark. Faintly she heard the pop and groaning of a motor approaching on the winding road that ran up the other side of the hill to the west. The rest of the Marauders? .... No. The puzzzzzt-put-put was Stav's wagon. Trouble of a different kind. "Hear that?" Mark snatched at the ladder, catching the lower rung and jerking his slow pendulum swing to a stop. "You're gonna be fucking sorry now! Hurry up!" Where were the rest of the Marauders anyway? The few times Mark had had been by the shop, he always brought an entourage. Skin traders like him had too many enemies to go running around alone. Eliza wondered if he really thought the approaching sound was his backup. It sounded considerably different than the rumble of a bike, but then again, most folk didn't listen to engines like she did. She climbed the lower two rungs of the step ladder and gave a tug on the crusted laces of his steel-toed boot. Mark jerked wildly, crashing against the step ladder and sending her hopping backward into the yard. "What are you DOING?" "Told you." She eyeballed the boot. It seemed looser. "Don't know where my cutter is." The engine popped louder at Stav's wagon crested the hill. Mark's face got redder, but it was hard to say if it was gravity or embarrassment. "Useless cunt." He shoved the ladder in frustration, sending it clattering to the ground between them.
  6. Apocalypse World Play By Post

    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?
  7. Apocalypse World Play By Post

    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:
  8. Intro: Suixide22

    Hello! What makes that cat magical????? Hope to catch you around Discord soon. ^^
  9. Play By Post (New Players Welcome!)

    I would like to participate, but don't have a strong preference for one flavor over another.
  10. Koi Nami Found Sushi!

    Fish are friends, not food. I like this a lot, only thing I might suggest is to make a thicker black line for the mouth? I think it would make the look of horror on her face pop out.
  11. @Parmejon Cheese has received the necessary votes and is now a Full Member of MadCast. Please join me in welcoming our newest FM: MadCast: Parmejon Cheese Parmejon Cheese, you have 10 days to reply that you have read and agree to the Terms of Full Membership. Your permissions will then be updated and your transition to full membership will be complete. Congratulations!
  12. Golf With Your Friends

    I'd come and watch the stream lol.
  13. Intro: Pup

    Yay! It was great to play a bunch of games with you today! Sorry we lost so much haha, but it was a lot of fun.
  14. @Usefully Useless has received the necessary votes and is now a Full Member of MadCast. Please join me in welcoming our newest FM: MadCast: Usefully Useless Usefully Useless, you have 10 days to reply that you have read and agree to the Terms of Full Membership. Your permissions will then be updated and your transition to full membership will be complete. Congratulations!
  15. MadCast Welcomes: Kitty Stark

    Permissions have been updated. Your new login is now MadCast: Kitty Stark.