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Post by Tycho on Apr 4, 2006 14:12:24 GMT -5
Like the buzzing of insects the noise began. The sound grew in intensity until it could be determined within the Atomic Cafe that it was the sound of engines.
"Sounds like they're a couple of miles out..." Tycho said, "you invite some friends?"
The stranger frowned and answered quickly, his tone serious. "I apologise partner, it seems I've brought down a whole world of trouble on your little ghost-town."
Tycho sighed, he now realised it wasn't pure coincidence that there was further interest in the town. Whoever this stranger was, it appeared he had pissed someone off.
"Sounds like V8's," Tycho said, "real gas-guzzlers. You've not just pissed anyone off. You've pissed someone real important off if they still control some guzzoline. They ain't travelled all the way out here just to say hello have they?"
"Wishful thinking partner," the stranger said, his tone still dead serious. "You know how I told you about that Ark place? Like I said, I wasn't deemed clean by those folk, not suitable for citizenship. What they really meant was that I wasn't prepared to sell myself into slavery just to be afforded the safety of their high walls. That was the choice in the Ark, work for the rich or get out. So maybe I fired off a few rounds on my way outta town, maybe I shot some of the wrong people. Don't see why they followed me to this hell-hole."
"Just who..." Tycho asked "...did you shoot?"
"Noone real important..." the stranger said quietly "...just their mayor."
Tycho laughed out loud and poured the man another drink.
The engines grew louder and the stranger shifted nervously on the stool as he downed the whiskey.
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Post by Tycho on Apr 4, 2006 13:32:13 GMT -5
The stranger asked for whiskey and Tycho obliged. The whiskey was past its best, out too long in the heat. The stranger didn't seem too bothered by the foul taste, he drank up happily enough.
Tycho didn't ask the stranger about himself, men talk about themselves if they want to, they don't need prodding.
Sure enough, the stranger spoke after a few more sips.
"I was surprised to see anyone in this ghost-town," he shared, "word is that Bartertown is dead."
Tycho nodded, it wasn't quite dead yet, but for all intents and purposes it was already six feet under.
"Why'd you come?" Tycho asked, his question short and simple.
"Was travelling West, needed a place to shelter for the night, hoped there might be a real bed around, maybe a roof for my head."
"So you came from the East?" Tycho asked, "what's East?" The bartender wasn't too sure of any settlements to the East and he hadn't heard any news for a long time of other camps.
"East..." the stranger asked, "...you don't get much news here do you partner? There's a decent sized town not too far East, maybe a couple of days ride. They call themselves The Ark. It sprang up fast, over the past year or so. Just popped up from nowhere, real sudden-like. Closest thing I've seen to civilisation in years."
"Civilisation?" Tycho repeated, "there ain't no such thing any more. I watched the cities burn, saw the governments fall. Civilisation's dead."
"Is that so partner?" The stranger replied, "these folk would disagree. Got themselves a small government and everything. High stone walls to keep the raiders out and a well-armed police force to keep order within."
"Sounds pretty good," Tycho said, "too good to leave..."
The stranger smiled wryly and spoke, "You'd think so, all looks clean enough, but you look a little closer and it all starts to unravel. It's all a little too clean, no beggars, no hustlers no nothing. You ain't what the government deems 'clean' and they run you outta town. It ain't even a real government, just a rich few in clean clothes calling the shots. Ain't a democracy, that's for sure."
"Sounds just like the old days." Tycho added.
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Post by Tycho on Apr 3, 2006 16:38:21 GMT -5
Tycho squinted, lining up the gun-sights on the figure who had just entered. The sun was behind the newcomer, shining in through the entrance and Tycho couldn't make out his face.
The stranger threw up his hands when he saw the gun,
"Easy partner, I ain't here to fight!" he exclaimed.
Tycho relaxed, lowering the gun and returning it to the holster.
"Sorry." Tycho muttered, "I haven't seen a friendly face in a long time, thought you might want to rob the joint."
The stranger grinned and Tycho took a better look at him. He wasn't too tall, maybe five ten or thereabouts. Dark hair, greying at the temples. There was a scar near his eye which gave him a constant squint. He wore mostly black, faded leather trousers and jacket. He also had a satchel slung over his shoulder. Just regular wasteland apparel it looked like.
Tycho walked round the bar, watching as the stranger took a seat at one of the stools, adjusting the satchel so it sat in his lap.
"I didn't hear you roll into town," Tycho said, "no engine noise on the wind."
The stranger nodded, "No car. Not much gas around these days."
"Yeah," Tycho replied, "Bartertown experimented with Methane for a bit, but it never took off, not after the Roadwarrior blew through here."
"You ever see him? The Roadwarrior I mean." the stranger asked, his curiousity aroused.
"Yeah... only for a second though." Tycho replied, "but that was years ago."
The stranger nodded, "people still talk about him, don't know where he is nowadays. Could be dead."
"Somehow..." Tycho replied, "...I think he's still kicking around. Anyway, what can I get you?"
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Post by Tycho on Apr 3, 2006 15:43:01 GMT -5
Tycho sighed, he didn't know why he kept turning up every day, kept polishing glasses and sweeping the floor. Every day for hours he'd just stand behind the bar and stare, waiting for the door to blow open, for some thirsty stranger to stride inside and lay down some coin.
There was still a stack of menus sitting atop the bar, untouched since Febuary of the previous year.
Maybe I oughta lower my prices... he thought. Not that it mattered, there would be noone to appreciate the generosity.
He had a rummage under the bar and pulled out an old skin mag. The pages of which he thumbed through. The pictures were all faded, the edges dog-eared. He sighed again and threw it back. There was a lot of junk under there, no sense in throwing anything away that could be useful one day.
Waste not want not. he mused.
He came out from behind the bar, thinking to stretch his legs. His hand dropped to his right hip and he drew a pistol, lightning fast. He titled it in the light, examining the weapon thoroughly.
Six months before... a party of raiders had blown through Bartertown, looking to steal from the unguarded settlement. They'd searched every building in the d**n place, finding them empty, devoid of life.
One skag had kicked down the door to the cafe, stormed inside looking to loot the place. Tycho had taken him down silently, without fuss. Luckily he wasn't missed when the others took off.
Tycho claimed the man's weapon as his own, a particularly fine six-shooter in a quick draw holster, the same rig which now hung from his waist.
He returned the gun to its holster. He wouldn't have much need of it it seemed.
The town was dead.
Tycho though about putting the gun to his own head and pulling the trigger. It didn't look like anyone would care if he ended up as dead as the town.
Just then he heard a noise, the noise of footsteps. He drew his gun and aimed as a figure entered through the saloon doors.
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Post by Tycho on Feb 12, 2005 8:03:16 GMT -5
Tycho emerges from the back room of the bar, greased rag in hand and gun on hip. He had taken to carrying the revolver on his person ever since that crazy afternoon a large gang of maruaders rolled into town, only Tycho, Roadkill, Oz and MaxMel, standing strong against them.
He shook his head, he never could remember how that one had turned out, having woken up days later, a slug in his arm and a bandage upon his brow. Both the maruaders and other bar patrons nowhere in sight. He guessed it would remain a mystery until one of those brave heros returned, eager to reminisce about the experience...
***
"Sorry partners," he mutters under his breath, "I was out back trying to fix up that hunk-a-junk motorcycle some dude left when he blew thru here a year back."
Striding over to the bar he turns on a small gas burner, fed by a compact butane tank, which in turn heats up a large metal container. Within seconds he turns off the gas and opens a small tap on the container, letting a thin stream of coffee trickle down into a waiting cup.
The coffee looks particularly gloopy, more than a few months since it was originally brewed, but it would sure still be strong. He carried the cup over to the counter and slid it across to Silver Rose.
He turned to Wastewanderer after this, looking at the man who had clearly been waiting here a long period of time.
"If you want a drink, all you gotta do is ask... now what'll it be?"
The man made no immediate effort to answer, either asleep or dead after the extreme wait he'd had for refreshment.
Tycho tosses a menu over to him anyway, the ink badly faded on the well-worn paper.
Drinks:
Whiskey $4 a bottle Tequila $6 a bottle Beer $1 a bottle Orange Soda $1 a bottle
Food:
Gecko on a stick $2 Kangaroo Steak $6 Kangaroo Ribs $4 Kangaroo Tail Soup $2 Dog Burgers $3
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Post by Tycho on Mar 7, 2004 10:26:54 GMT -5
((I thought I should delay the arrival of the marauders slightly just so the three character can interact a bit before any combat begins. I also thought perhaps I should provide a little description of my character, just in case either of you want to mention his appearence in your posts, perhaps you could do the same?
Tycho: Description - Aged somewhere between 30 and 40, his hair prematurely greyed, perhaps from stress, perhaps from radiation. He has stubble on his face, not having shaved in a while whilst in the wastes. He wears a three quarter length, dark-grey overcoat, which is unfastened and dusty. He also wears extremely faded jeans and and a dark blue shirt.))
Tycho nods at the young lady and goes into the back for a few moments. He returns quickly with two beers and a bottle opener. He wipes away the dust from one of the labels to reveal the words "Fosters, brewed 1997" He shakes his head before cracking it open and handing it to her, "It's well past its best and far from chilled but it'll have to do." he mutters as he cracks open his own beer and takes a swig.
He listens intently for a moment and then continues. "It sounds like those Raiders have stopped to investigate something further back on the outskirts of town, seems we still have a few moments for a quick chat."
He grins and extends his hand, "In all the commotion I forgot to introduce myself, folks round her call me Tycho, and I'm the barkeep and owner of this dusty mess, the last drinking hole left in this god-forsaken place. So tell me," he asks, "What brings someone like you so far out into the wastes and into the smoking remains of Bartertown. Not many folks left round here since the Road-Warrior blew thru and destroyed the power plant and many moved on..."
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Post by Tycho on Mar 7, 2004 9:35:43 GMT -5
Reaching into the lost property box again, the barkeep fumbles about a second time before removing a carefully wrapped bundle. Holding one edge of the cotton sheet which wraps the bundle he lets go of the other end and the package quickly unravels, its contents landing on the bartop with a clatter.
Tycho picks up the large hunting knife and sheath he just removed and this time hands the object the Roadkill, apparently the man can't function whislt sober.
"Here you go, if that disco gun fails you, you can always stick 'em with this."
Trycho looks toward the window again and grins, "Let's hope these Raiders are driving some sweet rides. I lost my Humvee whilst in the wastes and perhaps we can even get you a new motorcycle too... if we're not killed in the process."
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Post by Tycho on May 1, 2006 13:19:40 GMT -5
He shifted into third, and the battered old sedan gained a sudden burst of acceleration which brought it alongside the faded red 4x4.
His revolver came up, slowly, carefully and he aimed for the front left tyre of the 4x4, unwilling to waste a bullet until he was sure of success.
The Big Jeep swerved right, crashing into the battered sedan, which shuddered violently, and its driver, his aim thrown way off, released a stray bullet which hit nothing but air.
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Post by Tycho on Mar 7, 2004 9:01:29 GMT -5
There is some commotion in the corner and the clatter of some chairs as a dusty figure sits up from under a plethora of beer bottles, bar stools and other assorted junk.
Tycho looks across incredulously at the figure as he recognises him. "Jesus Roadkill trust you to join us at a time like this."
The other man shakes his head and asks a few questions to which Tycho replies, "You're were out for a couple of months at the least, perhaps a new personal best?" He laughs then and gets up and walks to the bar, pulling out a bottle of whisky which he tosses to his friend.
The barkeep then motions his head to the window, "Hear that?" he begins, "V8's, well tuned, sounds like four at the least. Certainly not trader vehicles... I can only assume they're Vermin, coming to pillage the deserted remains of Bartertown and since this d**ned cafe lies right on the edge of town chances are it'll be hit first."
He then reaches under the bar again and pull out a large wooden box marked "lost property". Reaching in he fumbles about for a few seconds before dragging out a brown leather shoulder holster. Pulling out the weapon inside a black Walther PPK pistol is reaveled. Sticking the pistol back in he turns over the holster, showing two extra full clips of ammo straps into the mag pockets.
"You'll need this too," Tycho says as he tosses the bundle over to Roadkill.
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Post by Tycho on May 1, 2006 12:45:01 GMT -5
The Wasteland "Following the Great War, the major cities became hotbeds of radioactive activity and completely uninhabitable. Survivors flocked to the Outback, taking refuge in small settlements, or roaming the wastes as nomads.
The threat of starvation and thirst is just as real as the danger from roving gangs of marauders and scavangers.
Not many can be trusted, and even fewer relied upon.
Nobody believes in heroes anymore... but that's not to say that none still exist."Here's a thread within which the numerous adventures which are bound to have occurred out in the wastes can be explored. Play together or alone, with tightly-knit rules and scripts or just loose storylines!
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Post by Tycho on Mar 7, 2004 6:26:21 GMT -5
GM: The two adventurers cower inside the Atomic Cafe, amongst the dusty furniture speaking through the dingy air.
The roar of the engines grows slightly louder and it can be estimated that their drivers and passengers are only aout three to four minutes away.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
"Indeed I do share my weapons in a crisis situation, these days you need all the help you can get. I have quite a collection of equipment and weaponry, some confiscated from unruly patrons, others in payment for tabs. You shouldn't be surprised how many alcoholics we've acquired since the Apocalypse."
He turns over the pump-action shotgun from earlier and loads eight cartridges into the full-length mag. He pulls back the pump with a satisfying "ker-chak".
"This is a 12 Guage Pump Action shotgun. You fire a shot, you pump the action to load the next. Watchout though, it'll be a little stiff, no-one's used it in months."
He then hands the weapon over to the woman and smiles, "I think you now owe me, so in payment why not tell me your name?"
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Post by Tycho on Mar 6, 2004 17:46:34 GMT -5
((I see you guys have a loose RPG going here at the Cafe, this is cool, this was my original vision when I created the cafe many months ago, however it never really took off that well. I would love to join in if I could. If this is ok then here is my part. We can discuss the progression of the storyline in the discussion thread I just made in the RPG part of the Forum if you want. Also I have a bit of experience in running RPG's, so I can Gamesmaster if you want??))
A lone figure appears in the distance and steadily grows larger as he approaches. A bag is slung over his shoulder and his clothes flap in the wind which kicks up the sand and dust upon the barren wastes. As the man approaches Bartertown once again he sighs, long ago had he departed, leaving just a "Closed for Renovation" Sign as an excuse for his absence and only God knew what had become of his cafe.
As he entered the outskirts of the town he made his way towards the Atomic Cafe and eventually apporached the rear of the property. Dropping his bag into the dust he looks at the rusty metal back door and examines the chain and padlock which he had left locked.
Links are missing and as he examines the chain it appears to have been cut with Bolt Cutters. Reaching behind himself, the man pulls from his waistband a large, short barrelled revolver. Cracking open the drum he counts the bullets he has remaining... two.
Without warning he lunges forward into the door, kicking it right off its rusted hinges with a mighty blow which sends the door flying into the cafe with a loud clang. Stepping inside he is consumed momentarily by the darkness.
Tycho looks around his cafe and sees a lone female hiding amongst the dusty chairs and tables. Creeping over he pulls back the hammer of the revolver and levels it at the stranger.
"What are you doing in my cafe!?" He bellows as the womans head snaps towards him. Before she can answer however the roar of engines are heard and Tycho hurries to the window. Wiping his arm on the glass he clears away enough of the grime to see out and spots the dust trails of the approaching vermin. Running behind the bar he fumbles about for a moment before removing a box of .44 bullets and loads the 4 empty chambers of his revolver before emptying the rest of the box into his overcoat. He then pulls down a slightly rusty nickel plated pump action shotgun from a shelf above the bar, followed by a box of 12 guage shells.
Turning to the woman he smiles, "You look like you can handle yourself and I'd rather have you with me than against me" he quips and tosses her the shotgun.
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Post by Tycho on Feb 12, 2005 9:38:21 GMT -5
[glow=red,2,300]Now that the Atomic Cafe has been empty quite a long time, we are free to start up a new RPG/Storyling, ideas or suggestions can go here.[/glow]
Also, if anyone has any problems or questions about what's going on in the Cafe, or just about Roleplaying in general, feel free to ask them here!
I'm no expert on anything, but I'd sure be glad to help you out.
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Post by Tycho on Mar 7, 2004 12:51:35 GMT -5
I thought perhaps we could acquire some vehicles from these Marauders and perhaps they could be forced to provide us with some information... perhaps a destination we could travel too, a better place than the desolate reamins of Bartertown.
I was thinking that after we finish getting to know one another the Vermin could arrive in their vehicles, after a fight we manage to defeat them and explore their many treasures which they have acquired from the wastes. Maybe one remains only injured and when.. pushed reveals information on a new settlement which they had intended to invade...
It's just an idea to get the Role Play started, give us an excuse to go off adventuring in the wastes.
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Post by Tycho on Jul 29, 2003 19:17:46 GMT -5
"That's not the roadwarrior's shotgun is it?" Tycho asks, "man, I heard he carried a weapon like that and it's been sitting in that storeroom for ages. Never came back to claim it I heard, too busy blowing outta town on that crazy train."
"That shotgun must've killed more than a few evil do'ers" Tycho continues, "in all my years as a bar keep I can't say I've been confronted with such a legendary piece of kit as this...".
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