Fine! Take it! You yell, as you throw the pack over your shoulder, and then towards him. The sack slides across the ashes, and the screaming man puts his foot on it. He tries to open the simple pack to look inside, still keeping his gun trained on you. He's not looking at you, though, but you know enough about peripheral vision to know it isn't worth the risk.
F-FUCKING A! WATER! HAHAHAHAAAAA! He hollers, cheering in jubilation with his non-gun hand. Your hand, in the meantime, slowly goes towards the sawed-off. He's not paying that much attention. He takes out a bottle of water from the pack, and tries to open it with just the strength of his fingers. You notice that they're coloured black, and he grits his teeth in pain as he tries to get the simple plastic cap off. He swears and curses, until, finally, he uses his gun hand to open the thing with a quick twist.
All you needed.
In a smooth motion, you fire the sawed-off. The blast echoes through the ashen desert as the pellets tear the bandit apart. He flies back, both from the blast and from a reflexive jumping. He drops his gun as he falls, screaming in pain. He's dusted, but the damned fool didn't have the good sense to die. The stupid fuck dropped the bottle he was holding open. You do your best to place it upright again, but god-damn it, half the contents are already gone by the time you manage to save it.
Mother-FUCKER! You stomp over to the dying man on the floor, twitching and crying as the blood keeps gushing out of him. His face is ruined, but the main damage is in his chest. You can probably see his organs, but you've got something else in mind. You get on your knees next to the dying man, and raise a fist.
*Crack*
You crack the dying man's nose with a straight punch, and quickly start following up your punches as you start swearing and screaming at the bastard.
YOU. STUPID. FUCKING. ASSHOLE. Every word leads to another punch as the man just starts crying, trying to keep his hands in front of your fists, to no avail. You pull out your shotgun again, and start whipping the man with it, causing his face to bend and distort from the blows already. He's still not dead, though he's quite dazed. You're still swearing and cursing, and your knuckles are bleeding as the man is reduced to basically nothing more than pulp on your knuckles. Out of breath, you stand up and spit on his corpse. He twitches, and you stomp his head one final time. That put an end to his twitching.
That's the end of that. You reload your sawed-off, and look at the kid. She's been staring at you demolishing the rat bastard, too scared to speak. Still winded, you start to strip the man of his valuables, such as they are. Pieces of metal, with enough straps to serve as armor. Hardly proper armor, and it sure as shit didn't help against the pellets. You've got enough to cover about and arm and a leg, based on where he put it. It'll work for whatever DOES hit that part, of course...
Looking around, you DO notice that he wasn't just hiding in that dune for a few seconds. You find a pack filled with goodies, though the pack itself is broken. The underside is ripped apart, and the hide can't be anything more than rat and the residual filth that rat bastard emitted. Still, wrapped in paper, you find a few edibles. Two bits of radroach meat, a strip of flesh, and even some bread! You've heard there were bakers around here, but you sure didn't expect to find an actual loaf of bread around. There was also a can of cram in there, which is likely the safest thing to eat after the bread. At least your food situation is solved, until you reach the town at least. Maybe it was worth a shell and half a bottle of water. Who knows. You are absolutely covered in blood though, probably shouldn't have let your temper get the best of you, but god-damn it. He was dead, you were angry, and damn if it didn't feel good. To hell with it. You'd better keep moving.
Sure enough, you get a confirmation you made good time. The town is on the horizon! Good thing, too, you were down to your last bottle of water, and the radroach and mystery meat weren't exactly fine dining. The kid managed, though she was clearly not used to the unique taste.
And there it is, Lagniappe! That's a weird name.Louisiana had a lot of European influance. I think that's... uh. Belgian? I think it's Belgian. What's a Belgian?Some old country known for chocolates and kiddie rape. Pretty sure they only made the first to get to the other. Well, that's what one of the papers said, at least. It's not exactly great reading material, keep going on about something called "baseball", and otherwise they just mention the war. Do you think they're dead too?Shit, who knows? For all we know, things are worse over there. People come up with all sorts of stories, but nobody knows. Nobody's able to cross the sea, you know? What's the sea?Big lake, filled with salt. Lupus said he saw it once, said it was where his tribe was before his Legion service. Whatever, stupid fuck's dead now.The town appears peaceful, even up close. Mostly brick housing that managed to stay up, and then the locals got to expanding and "improving" them with scrap metal and wood. The houses look like they're swallowing up the old, in some cases you can't even see the brickwork past the scrap. Before you enter, though, a spotlight is focused on you (in the middle of the day?) and you hear somebody shouting from the top of a roof. Some guy, black skin, red t-shirt, holding a rifle you can't quite make out with the sun in your eyes. He's got a damned good position over you, a good place to guard.
I'll say again: State your name and business, and then move to office below me!Oh hell. You don't think anybody knows your name. You may have been part of the Pack, but apart from Pack Leader and Chef, nobody went around yelling their names. Still, perhaps caution would be better? And you need to explain the kid. Combat StatsHP: 215/215
Weapon: .357 revolver (6 shots remaining) (requires 0.3 second to fire, 0.7 to cock the hammer for the next shot) (reloading takes 0.7 seconds per bullet) (Can be "aimed" for a bonus to hit and allowing you to hit specific parts of the body) (Loses accuracy beyond 10 meters, by 5 percent per meter) (60 percent chance to hit, not modified for range) (does 36 damage)
Bloodstained Raider Rags (1 DT) (equipped) (Light armor)
One Water bottle
Seven empty bottles
one bit of radroach meat
1 Bread
4 .357 bullets
6 12-gauge shotgun shells
12 9mm bullets
1 .44 bullet
Two stimpacks (Heal 30 HP)
Two units of Nuts and Bolts
Sawed-off 12gauge (2 shots, fully loaded.) (requires 0.2 seconds to fire) (Reloading takes 2,5 seconds) (Cannot be aimed with precision, but you can still get a bonus to hit if you take care to aim) (Loses DAMAGE, not chance to hit, beyond three meters. 10 dmg per meter) (Does 70 damage) (steady bonus: +30) (100 percent chance to hit
Emergency Shank (unequipped, takes 0.3 seconds to take out. 0.5 seconds to stab something)
STRENGTH 7
PERCEPTION 5
ENDURANCE 6
CHARISMA 7
INTELLIGENCE 4
AGILITY 5
LUCK 6
Barter: 19
Energy Weapons: 15
Explosives: 15
Guns:35
Lockpick: 30
Medicine:13
Melee weapons: 19
Repair: 30
Science: 13
Sneak:35
Speech:21
Survival: 27
Unarmed: 19
Iron Stomach: Your extended life as an outcast left you with a strong stomach. Radiation and general filth does not affect you nearly as much
Weird Wasteland: Maybe it's that blow to the head, but things seem a little more loopy and funny. Some things seem to happen that shouldn't. Well, it's nothing bad, at least.
Cold as Ice: You're not exactly the pinnacle of romance, and why would you be? You easily see through people trying to manipulate you, but you suffer a -15 to all convincing checks.
(Created item 5XP) (Raider 15 XP)
Author
Topic: Fallout: Raiders of Louisiana (Read 45080 times)