Oz
Junior Member
Bar room hero and arms keeper
Posts: 55
|
Post by Oz on Jan 31, 2004 18:41:14 GMT -5
Oz had heard the traveler yell at him, but he ignored it.
|
|
Oz
Junior Member
Bar room hero and arms keeper
Posts: 55
|
Post by Oz on Jan 30, 2004 13:41:43 GMT -5
Oz pats his jacket and then screams out to the empty wastes:
" WHERE THE HELL IS MAH BOOZE!?"
|
|
Oz
Junior Member
Bar room hero and arms keeper
Posts: 55
|
Post by Oz on Jan 28, 2004 21:07:51 GMT -5
Oz wlaks by hauling a cart of odds and ends. He see's MaxMel sitting on her ass, staring the sky, and making a dry gurgling noise, as if it would rain. He shakes his head, reaches inside his tattered leather bomber jacket, pulling out a battered canteen. He shakes it around, hearing a swishing noise, he throws it on the ground next to Maxmel and continues on cackling merriyly and saying:
" It's not the gas or the methane that keeps us going, but water; the clear fuel. It keeps us running!"
|
|
Oz
Junior Member
Bar room hero and arms keeper
Posts: 55
|
Post by Oz on Jan 27, 2004 19:16:11 GMT -5
*puts a sign on the door of the cafe'. It reads: CLOSED FOR RENOVATION*
Argh rebuildation!
|
|
Oz
Junior Member
Bar room hero and arms keeper
Posts: 55
|
Post by Oz on Oct 3, 2003 18:46:17 GMT -5
Oz snuffed his f*g out on the bar counter. " Bloody 'ell it's the Road Warrior's Shotgun. If i remember correctly MFP issue coach gun. Look at the inscription."
Everyone leans foward to have a gander at the aging weapon. Burned in the wooden butt stock were the Words: M. Rockatansky, The Dark One Car 1408. Tycho the Bar keep takes it from the Traveler and examines it admiringly.
" I remember the day the Roadwarrior came into Barter town." he said. " Tore up the Barter Master's Den he did. Blew that one guards men Feather headress nuts clean off his head with this. 'Mazing marksman ship. Though this gun probably won't last long, seieng as there is no bore solvent left to clean it."
|
|
Oz
Junior Member
Bar room hero and arms keeper
Posts: 55
|
Post by Oz on Jun 5, 2003 19:38:18 GMT -5
Oz chuckeled lighting up a hand rolled ciggarete with a tarnished zippo. He exhaled the smoke and stood up.
" Ya know that raggedy man? Word on the streets he is the roadwarrior; i.e. saviour of the great nothered tribe. Anyway seems he made a deal with Aunty to ice Blaster so she could regain control over master. Almost worked to cept' raggedy got a soft heart and let it slip out of his fingers, literally. You saw the fight in the t dome?" Oz took another puff. " Anyway this "road Warrior" left behind a few souveneirs the arms kepper let me have."
Tycho came up to Oz from behind laying his grilled rabbit on the counter. Oz turned to his meal. that kid named roadkill spoke up.
" Yeah what he leave?"
Oz chuckeled and reached into his jacket. First he pulled out a weathered sawn he stuck up the giggolo's nose. He threw a few shells on the counter, Next out came a polished colt anaconda and finally geiger counter. The barkeep's eyes widened.
" He let you have that?" Tycho murmered.
" Hellz yeah, He figured barter town was going under might as well clean out the old store room."
|
|
Oz
Junior Member
Bar room hero and arms keeper
Posts: 55
|
Post by Oz on Jun 3, 2003 20:38:52 GMT -5
Giggy is trying to get his thang on with Tbot when a sanw of double barreled is shoved up his nose.
" Leave the bloody siren alone ombre."
Giggy backed off as the mystery man pushed past him holstering his shotgun. He sits at the bar and slaps a dead rabbit down on the counter.
" Cut that up, grill it and get me a drink bartender." Said the hooded mystery man. He turned to the others in the bar; The halfmasked Entity, the Siren, The steaming Giggolo, and that other guy.
" Ya' wanna hear a story. I got one for ya'"
In the time before the Wastes, the leaders of the land said that their great weapons were built as sentinels of peace. So full of confidence, so ruined by ego, our leaders cut a daring path into the future. A path now littered with the corpses of their followers. Their pride overcame them, and they misjudged their enemies - enemies they themselves had forged from their desire for armed supremacy. Those times were filled with dark machines - man was ruled by them. They knew nothing of the hunt, nothing of fighting for water and territory. Man was weak, and fat from his luxury. This weakness was exploited by the land's enemies across the ocean. They defeated our blind princes, and conquered our weak people, but they made a grave error. They were right in believing the people weak, for they were. However, they failed to realize the extent of their selfishness. You see, my friend, the Wastes were not our enemies' doing. They were our own. We could not stand the thought of enemies occupying our territories, so we took the only option left to us. We destroyed them. Every city was burned with the High Fire. Every crop was diseased with the Grey. The very old and the very young were the first to die. The Grey took them as it took our crops. The High Fire ravaged the East and made it uninhabitable; many left that bleak place for a better home in the West, only to find that the Grey had taken nearly everything. Now we scrounge as rats, when once we gorged ourselves as kings. We kill for food, water and gasoline. We kill to survive the Wastes. The weapons that our fallen soldiers once commanded are now within our grip. Life is not as it was then - soft, warm, easy. We cannot live as they did, we have only one goal:
To see the dawn."
|
|
Oz
Junior Member
Bar room hero and arms keeper
Posts: 55
|
Post by Oz on Jun 8, 2003 8:01:41 GMT -5
Thank-you. Yes i am a thunderdome fan. Im thinking of writing a follow up to thunder dome one day.
|
|
Oz
Junior Member
Bar room hero and arms keeper
Posts: 55
|
Post by Oz on Jun 8, 2003 8:01:41 GMT -5
Thank-you. Yes i am a thunderdome fan. Im thinking of writing a follow up to thunder dome one day.
|
|
Oz
Junior Member
Bar room hero and arms keeper
Posts: 55
|
Post by Oz on Jun 7, 2003 17:14:24 GMT -5
Not my best writing. Anyway enjoy.
The last bronze.
The lone wolf was a grand machine as it muscled ir's way through the wastelands once knew as the outback. It's crome plating blurred with it's surroundings as it sped past endless red soil and dried shurbery. The vehicle was laden down on the back and front engins with supplies; jerry cans, water, dog food and anything else useful. The driver of the vehicle a black clad vehicle noticed a old fueling station just up ahead and slowed the wolf down next to an old gas pump. The driver got out of hte vehicle his rusted leg brace sqeaking widly as he ran around to the back and untied a jerry can from the heap of junk.
The driver had taken a flat head screw driver he had hanging from his belt and pried off the pump's maintence panel. He then tried to crank the emergency crank to produce a flow of guzzline but was halted by the screeching motor of a ditbike. The driver froze dropping the jerry can on the ground and slowly turned around revealing to be none other the the man himself, the Roadwarrior, "Mad" Max Rockatansky. Max stood up pulling a scoped .44 caliber revolver. He checked the load. One bullet was all he had. He snapped the cylinder shut and aimed at the dirtbike rider's head with the scope.
" One shot make htis count Max." He mumbled under his breath.
The dirtbike rider intrigued by this started to descend upon Max, the biker's rabbit skin clothes flapping in the wind. Max pulled back the hammer lock. The Mohawker aimed a writstbow. Max sqeuzed the trigger. In slow motioned the mohawker was thrown off his bike his leather mask covered in it's wearer's own gore. The biker landed on his back dead already as the bike skidded to the bottom of the hill where Max was standing. Just then a Tow truck wrecker came over the hill. It was covered in dirt and a steel spiked cow catcher was welded on the front of it. There was a small grouping of buckshot holes in the front windscreen covered in blood where the drivers hand WAS. Max chuckled and unholstered his good ol' shotgun. Although Max couldn't see the driver's eyes covered by a dark hood widened and he swvered his wrecker around and drove off before he met the same fate of his biker friend. Max shook his head and holstered his shotgun turning to the pump.
Max crouched down next the pump and reached in turning the door knob size crank. Some gasoline spilled onto the ground and soaked into the dirt. Max cursed under his breath and pickedup the nozzle. He quickly spun the lone wolf's gas cap off and jabbed the nozzle in. The tank started filling up little by little. It was slow tedious filling so Max decided to check his weapons. He unholstered his hsotgun and cracked it open. Smoke poured from the barrels. He removed the two empty shells and put them in a old rusted coffee can in the lone wolf. In the wastes you had to save alot of things. He stcuk his finger in both barrels, they came out a bit dirty. He had to clean it but he had no cleaning supplies whatsoever so he had to hold back on firing his shotgun as much as possibel. He then took out his remaining shotgun shells. he had about 7 shells left, 5 buckshot and 2 solid slugs. He checked each shell sqeuzing them at the base to see if they werent bad yet. That was the problem with ammo though you couldnt even tell sometimes. Max loaded the shotgun with two more shells both buckshot and set it on the lone wolf's seat. He then pulled the .44 revolver from his belt and swung open the cylinder removing the empty casing, which he put in hte same coffee can. He noticed gunpowder residue was starting to form on the barrel anf cylinder holes, but no worry he had no ammunition for the revolver so he ddint have to worry about firing it for now.
Max pulled out the nozzle as it sputtered the last few drops of gasoline into the tank. There wasn't much left all he got was 1/3 of a tank, but in the wasteland you took all the gas you could get. Max then checked the other pump it was empty. He picked up his jerry can and a hose from the Lone wolf and jogged over to the bike. He spun open the gas cap and stuck the hose inside. He sucked on the hose once then twice. Then finally on his 3rd try gasoline started flowing out through the hose. There wasnt much in there either just about a quart. Max shook his head and checked the rider. His mask was covered in blood and gray brain matter. Max started patting him down. He checked his sidepack. There was a single blue shotgun round. Max checked it sqeuzing it, he reconized these type of shells. They were beanbag rounds. Max shrugged his shoulders and put the shell in his coat pocket with the rest of them. He had checked the service bay of the station and had only found a half bottle of motoroil and a dusy old case of road flares with about 5 flares in it. he tucked the flares behind the wolf's lone seat and filled the engine with the oil he had found. And once again he was back on the road again.
==================================================================================
A few miles down the road the, on the path max was heading there sat lay a small wooden town once named Edgarsville. When you reached its outskirts you wouldn't have seen much though. Just few ruins here and there. But as you got deeper into town you would see more buildings. Now looted Edgarsville has only one street about a quarter or less mile long. On it you would find a few buildings, a barber shop a diner, a MFP station, a saloon and a vacant lot or two. Some buildings lay dilapidated, pieces of timber falling on the wooden sidewalks. Other buildings were damaged from fires. Nonetheless nothing lived there for a long time.
Until now.
They had came 4 days ago on their thunderous metalsteeds and carriages. They wore a combination of mfp leathers and rabbit skins. They set up camp every where up and down the street, in buildings on the sidewalks. They were looking for one thing. Guzzline. There was rumored to be a rogue military controlled petrol compound around these parts and this gang wanted to cash in. But they were just another group of maruaders. They were ruthless, rapists and above all scags. They were led by a man named Kane. A dangrous man at that, who was unshaven. He drove a HQ LS Monaro equipped with a weiand brand blower and was dresses in Rabbit skins and MFP leathers. An Ex bronze, he carried a sawn off Remmington 870 and had a FN Fal on a tripod welded to the hood of his car. He was overlooking Edgarsville's surrounding wasteland from atop the water towerwhen a faded green wrecker slowly drove into town. Kane looked up from his telescope as the other gang members crowded around the car. he hopped down from the tower and Jogged over to the wrecker.
He pulled open the door and out fell the driver. His arm a bloody stump. The wrecker's name was Kyle a old friend of Kane's. He knelt down next to kyle who was barley concsious.
"Kyle." Kane said to the one hand man." Who did this to you?"
" The-the-." Kyle sputtered. " The Last Bronze."
and with that Kyle fell into unconciousness.
to be continued
|
|
Oz
Junior Member
Bar room hero and arms keeper
Posts: 55
|
Post by Oz on Jun 7, 2003 17:14:24 GMT -5
Not my best writing. Anyway enjoy.
The last bronze.
The lone wolf was a grand machine as it muscled ir's way through the wastelands once knew as the outback. It's crome plating blurred with it's surroundings as it sped past endless red soil and dried shurbery. The vehicle was laden down on the back and front engins with supplies; jerry cans, water, dog food and anything else useful. The driver of the vehicle a black clad vehicle noticed a old fueling station just up ahead and slowed the wolf down next to an old gas pump. The driver got out of hte vehicle his rusted leg brace sqeaking widly as he ran around to the back and untied a jerry can from the heap of junk.
The driver had taken a flat head screw driver he had hanging from his belt and pried off the pump's maintence panel. He then tried to crank the emergency crank to produce a flow of guzzline but was halted by the screeching motor of a ditbike. The driver froze dropping the jerry can on the ground and slowly turned around revealing to be none other the the man himself, the Roadwarrior, "Mad" Max Rockatansky. Max stood up pulling a scoped .44 caliber revolver. He checked the load. One bullet was all he had. He snapped the cylinder shut and aimed at the dirtbike rider's head with the scope.
" One shot make htis count Max." He mumbled under his breath.
The dirtbike rider intrigued by this started to descend upon Max, the biker's rabbit skin clothes flapping in the wind. Max pulled back the hammer lock. The Mohawker aimed a writstbow. Max sqeuzed the trigger. In slow motioned the mohawker was thrown off his bike his leather mask covered in it's wearer's own gore. The biker landed on his back dead already as the bike skidded to the bottom of the hill where Max was standing. Just then a Tow truck wrecker came over the hill. It was covered in dirt and a steel spiked cow catcher was welded on the front of it. There was a small grouping of buckshot holes in the front windscreen covered in blood where the drivers hand WAS. Max chuckled and unholstered his good ol' shotgun. Although Max couldn't see the driver's eyes covered by a dark hood widened and he swvered his wrecker around and drove off before he met the same fate of his biker friend. Max shook his head and holstered his shotgun turning to the pump.
Max crouched down next the pump and reached in turning the door knob size crank. Some gasoline spilled onto the ground and soaked into the dirt. Max cursed under his breath and pickedup the nozzle. He quickly spun the lone wolf's gas cap off and jabbed the nozzle in. The tank started filling up little by little. It was slow tedious filling so Max decided to check his weapons. He unholstered his hsotgun and cracked it open. Smoke poured from the barrels. He removed the two empty shells and put them in a old rusted coffee can in the lone wolf. In the wastes you had to save alot of things. He stcuk his finger in both barrels, they came out a bit dirty. He had to clean it but he had no cleaning supplies whatsoever so he had to hold back on firing his shotgun as much as possibel. He then took out his remaining shotgun shells. he had about 7 shells left, 5 buckshot and 2 solid slugs. He checked each shell sqeuzing them at the base to see if they werent bad yet. That was the problem with ammo though you couldnt even tell sometimes. Max loaded the shotgun with two more shells both buckshot and set it on the lone wolf's seat. He then pulled the .44 revolver from his belt and swung open the cylinder removing the empty casing, which he put in hte same coffee can. He noticed gunpowder residue was starting to form on the barrel anf cylinder holes, but no worry he had no ammunition for the revolver so he ddint have to worry about firing it for now.
Max pulled out the nozzle as it sputtered the last few drops of gasoline into the tank. There wasn't much left all he got was 1/3 of a tank, but in the wasteland you took all the gas you could get. Max then checked the other pump it was empty. He picked up his jerry can and a hose from the Lone wolf and jogged over to the bike. He spun open the gas cap and stuck the hose inside. He sucked on the hose once then twice. Then finally on his 3rd try gasoline started flowing out through the hose. There wasnt much in there either just about a quart. Max shook his head and checked the rider. His mask was covered in blood and gray brain matter. Max started patting him down. He checked his sidepack. There was a single blue shotgun round. Max checked it sqeuzing it, he reconized these type of shells. They were beanbag rounds. Max shrugged his shoulders and put the shell in his coat pocket with the rest of them. He had checked the service bay of the station and had only found a half bottle of motoroil and a dusy old case of road flares with about 5 flares in it. he tucked the flares behind the wolf's lone seat and filled the engine with the oil he had found. And once again he was back on the road again.
==================================================================================
A few miles down the road the, on the path max was heading there sat lay a small wooden town once named Edgarsville. When you reached its outskirts you wouldn't have seen much though. Just few ruins here and there. But as you got deeper into town you would see more buildings. Now looted Edgarsville has only one street about a quarter or less mile long. On it you would find a few buildings, a barber shop a diner, a MFP station, a saloon and a vacant lot or two. Some buildings lay dilapidated, pieces of timber falling on the wooden sidewalks. Other buildings were damaged from fires. Nonetheless nothing lived there for a long time.
Until now.
They had came 4 days ago on their thunderous metalsteeds and carriages. They wore a combination of mfp leathers and rabbit skins. They set up camp every where up and down the street, in buildings on the sidewalks. They were looking for one thing. Guzzline. There was rumored to be a rogue military controlled petrol compound around these parts and this gang wanted to cash in. But they were just another group of maruaders. They were ruthless, rapists and above all scags. They were led by a man named Kane. A dangrous man at that, who was unshaven. He drove a HQ LS Monaro equipped with a weiand brand blower and was dresses in Rabbit skins and MFP leathers. An Ex bronze, he carried a sawn off Remmington 870 and had a FN Fal on a tripod welded to the hood of his car. He was overlooking Edgarsville's surrounding wasteland from atop the water towerwhen a faded green wrecker slowly drove into town. Kane looked up from his telescope as the other gang members crowded around the car. he hopped down from the tower and Jogged over to the wrecker.
He pulled open the door and out fell the driver. His arm a bloody stump. The wrecker's name was Kyle a old friend of Kane's. He knelt down next to kyle who was barley concsious.
"Kyle." Kane said to the one hand man." Who did this to you?"
" The-the-." Kyle sputtered. " The Last Bronze."
and with that Kyle fell into unconciousness.
to be continued
|
|
Oz
Junior Member
Bar room hero and arms keeper
Posts: 55
|
Post by Oz on Jan 27, 2004 20:04:22 GMT -5
Argh! It was the general dude with the Katana.
next one;
" Who you?"
|
|
Oz
Junior Member
Bar room hero and arms keeper
Posts: 55
|
Post by Oz on Jan 27, 2004 20:04:22 GMT -5
Argh! It was the general dude with the Katana.
next one;
" Who you?"
|
|
Oz
Junior Member
Bar room hero and arms keeper
Posts: 55
|
Post by Oz on Oct 22, 2003 18:27:22 GMT -5
I do believe that was Fifi
" This is ____, And _____ Wants his ______Back!"
Fill in the blanks.
|
|
Oz
Junior Member
Bar room hero and arms keeper
Posts: 55
|
Post by Oz on Oct 22, 2003 18:27:22 GMT -5
I do believe that was Fifi
" This is ____, And _____ Wants his ______Back!"
Fill in the blanks.
|
|