Character RP: Road to Ethanville
Eager to expand business, the small weapons and scrap seller, the Morgantown Supply, has hired you to seek out a settlement embedded in the Mire.
A maximum of 5 players can join this quest. Contact me on the discord or via telegram if you're interested in joining. Your character factbook must be approved before joining.
SIGN-UPS ARE CLOSED
Your quest begins in Morgantown, the bustling trade city of the northwestern Appalachian region. Whatever your reasons may be, you and your party find themselves in the weapons and scrap shop, the Morgantown Supply, in the process of accepting a job that has remained untaken for weeks. In front your party stands the young, proud owner of the shop, Atticus Holmes. "I'm glad that you're interested in taking up the job. I need you all to make contact with a settlement," he began. "Although we don't know much about the settlement and haven't had luck in establishing long range communication, they have requested assistance. For what? I'm not sure, but if there's anything we know about the Mire, it's that it's a dangerous place known for its infamous Stranger-infected mutants, striking mirelurk population, and massive Trapper presence. Chances are they need fire support: weapons, and ammo. So while this adventure is perilous, it is my conviction that making contact would be an incredible opportunity for the supply, a big buyer of our products. I want you all to travel to this settlement. I'll have my caravaneer Ivan navigate for you. In exchange for investigating the settlement, you will receive a more than generous pay, and maybe some good jobs from the Supply in the future. Interested?"
"Yer really going to put this mission into the hands of some two-bit mercs?" the unimpressed co-owner, Joshua Hay, interjected. His arms were folded, his face riddled with disdain, and he spoke as coldly as the brisk Appalachian air outside. "Surely, the Supply can afford something better!"
"And what do you suggest?" Holmes smirked, humoring the repetitive yet entertaining rants of Hay. "Quality! Pride! Or at least some goddamn care into your work! I've been working 'ere fer years! Even when yer father was barely keepin' this shop afloat, he put as much care into the Supply as he could! Probably cared more about this than he did you!" And as Joshua pressed on and on about the lack of professionalism of the Morgantown Supply, the "your father would be so disappointed in seeing how far his business has fallen" comments, and the snide remarks on the appearances of the new (and unfortunate) faces that entered the Supply seeking work, Holmes rolled his eyes and, when Joshua wasn't looking, mouthed the words that came out of his co-owner's mouth. The tirade seemed to last for hours, and it was only until Hay was out of breath that it finally ceased.
"Thank you for those... choice words, Joshua. What would I do without you?" Holmes chuckled. The disgruntled Hay responded with only a grunt and left the room.
"That's Joshy, for ya," Ivan Kozlov grinned in the corner. "Don't feel too bad," he faced Josephine and Lilith. "The old man does this to everyone. He never was one for warm welcomes. Man, I still remember how he grilled me when I came in for the first job in the Supply. 'What's this kid doing in 'ere?! I asked fer a man to take up this job!' and 'Get this little rat outta my fine establishment,' were some of my favorite lines! But enough about our friend, Joshua. You two ready to get going?"
Marcy Josephine, listening to the conversation, leans over, interested in the job's location. She smirks, taking note of the other members of the mission. She speaks, with her ghoulish voice sounding like razor blades cutting wood
Marcy Josephine - "This place is in the Mire? Dangerous, deadly. . ."
She begins to fiddle her Good Luck Charm around her neck.
Marcy Josephine - "Hmmmmm. I't going all the way with this. This job. . .it's important to me. It's not just about some caps. I can't really explain. . .but I need to finish business here. And this is the only way to do it."
She takes out her Hunting Rifle and sets it on the table. She looks over at Holmes.
Marcy Josephine - "You know where I can get a whiskey before we set off? I have a feeling I'm going to need it."
Institutum and Fallout dnd
Morgantown Supply, Morgantown-
Lilith seemingly took no interest in the conversation during its whole duration. Although it was hard to see her eyes and expression under the googles of her gas mask, one only needed to see her body to get the idea. She was slightly hunched over, with her weight support on one leg while the other was bent, examining a bowie knife she had taken from the counter of the store. The blade was not bad, to her surprise, being fairly sharp and only a few spots of rust on it. For a moment she was tempted to just take it, and walk away, but that thought passed quickly and she returned it to it's spot on the counter. By then Joshua had already finished his rant and stormed off. Lilith caught only a bit of the conversation, but she didn't want people to know she wasn't listening so she just nodded her head at Ivan. She didn't really care about what was ahead of her, all her fears were behind her and she couldn't afford to allow them to catch up.
At the mention of a drink, sent Lilith's mind towards a distant memory of drinking with her comrades late into the night, the laughter and the fighting. She remembered such times very fondly, though she no longer partakes in such activities. She is a very different woman now then the days of her foolish youth. When the memory was gone, she decided to finally say her piece. Under the gas mask, her voice was muffled, but she spoke loudly enough for her words to be clear and concise.
[Lilith] "I am ready to head out whenever, but I want some insurance about this job. I'd rather not be conned by some lying salesman. Half of the payment upfront. This ain't my first mercenary job, ya know."
"Unfinished business?" Ivan chuckled. "Whatever floats yer boat. Just don't go expectin' us to go to extra lengths to finish said business on the mission. I sure as hell don't want to stay in the Mire longer than I need to be."
"There's a bar in the city. No doubt they serve all sorts of alcoholic beverages," Holmes added. "It's called the Bootlegger's Tavern, 'round the southernmost edge of the market circle. It's certainly not the most hospitable watering hole in Appalachia, but it serves good booze."
"We can give it a look while we're making preparations before leaving Morgantown," Ivan suggested.
"Insurance?" Holmes smirked. "I like your initiative, kid. You know your stuff." Holmes handed Lilith 150 caps. "This doesn't count the bonus may recieve for a job well done."
"So shall we get going?" Ivan gestured towards the door.
(Side note: I forgot to add that Atticus handed Marcy 150 caps as well)
Marcy takes notice of Lilith admiring the Bowie knife from the counter, and reaches to her side instinctively. She stops though, remembering she had lost her combat knife a couple of years ago. Or was it a couple of decades? Regardless, it's gone and she's itching to get a new one. But that's a side concern. Her main concern is the job. And maybe learning more about her murky past while she's at it. She shudders at the thought of a settlement in the Mire. Who in there right mind would try to rebuild civilization there, of all places? Even the name creates an atmosphere of fear and mystery.
But none of that matters. She has a job to do, and she's going to do it. She stands up and grabs her Hunting Rifle, slinging it over her shoulder. She looks over at Ivan.
Marcy Josephine - "Of course. I need me a whiskey."
Morgantown Supply, Morgantown-
Lilith took the caps and carefully counted them. Find the payment to be sufficient, she pocketed the caps. She was about to say something and join the others at the local bar, but she stopped as she felt an old familiar twinge. There was something she had to do first. An old habit that would be best is no one was around to see it. She turned and began to walk away, calling to the others over her shoulder.
[Lilith] "I have business to settle before we go. I'll meet you at the tavern in thirty-minutes."
With that she leaves, walking through the muddy streets of Morgantown. The town was busy, with traders, residents, and raiders all walking the streets.
"Very noisy..." Lilith thought to himself.
Pushing through the maddening crowds, she soon found her self outside the town. Wandering through the woods she spots an old stump, slightly shorter then she is, of what was once a great tree. She kneels beside the stump, and runs her hand across the old bark. She reaches to the inside of her coat, where she had kept the object of her secret hidden. A knife. This wasn't no ordinary knife, as it's handle was made from the bones of a beast, and it's blade from a black metal. A wicked and cruel blade. She took the knife and began to carve in the tree. On the tree she carved a peculiar shape, of a creature that stood like a man but possessed wings, like an insect. Now her carving was done she needed something else. A live sacrifice to her dark idol. She looked around for any animal or even person. From the corner of her eye, she spotted something skittering around the tree near by. A squirrel. Or something that resembled a squirrel. Pink and mutated the rodent clung to the trunk of the tree, only a few feet away from where Lilith was. Slowly, to not alert the rodent, Lilith pulled out a throwing knife and raised it to throw the knife. Releasing her breath, she threw the knife and it hit the trunk with a resounding thump, but she had missed her target by a few centimeters and the little rodent had scurried away in fear. Lilith screamed in frustration at her own sh!tty aim. Her god demanding blood and she will give him it. Taking her wicked blade, she cut open the palm of her hand and pressed it into the carving. Her hot blooding smearing over the depiction. Putting the knife back into her coat, and pulling the throwing knife out of the tree, she made her way back to Morgantown and eventually to the bar. Her hand still bleeding.
(I forgot to add that Marcy also recieved 150 caps from Atticus, which she can use on top of what she already has)
"Well then, let's get moving. Atticus, if I die on this mission, you know where to send the money," Ivan spoke, only half jokingly. He put on his bomber jacket and reached for the door.
The group of three, Ivan, Marcy, and Lilith, found themselves outside the Morgantown Supply into a city bustling with life. Travelers hailing from every corner of Appalachia, from the ghouls of Grafton to the raiders of the Mire, wandered the expansive trading city. Morgantown's narrow, wood pallet paths were covered with vendors, shops encircled the city center, and all around people could hear the shouting of workers on soapboxes saying something akin to "step right up and get some fried squirrel bits!"
Lilith having left the group to resolve some "business" left Ivan and Marcy to wander the city alone. Ivan could barely manage to ask what she was going to do before she was washed away by the massive crowd of people. With a puzzled expression that lingered for a few fleeting moments, Ivan continued towards the tavern.
The two passed an armorsmith, several food stands, a chem vendor, and a clothes store. "Maybe we can supply up before we head out," Ivan noted.
After several minutes of wandering the crouded city, Ivan announced "Here we are, Bootlegger's Tavern," as he opened the door to a small building, the shell of a prewar tattoo parlor. As the two entered the tavern, they were met with the smell of vomit and expired food, something that sent Ivan back before reminding him to wear a bandana to mask the potency of it all. "Quite the inviting smell, eh?" Ivan joked through a coughing fit. He handed Marcy an old rag to use as a bandana, although he wasn't sure if ghouls could smell given their... condition. The bar was small and crowded. Its cramped main room was filled with tables of drunkards. To the side sat two rows of billiards tables encircled by spectators. Ivan walked cooly through the tavern - if "cooly" meant nearly tripping on several puddles of what he hoped was just beer, and nearly suffocating from the lingering smell. He leaned over the bar and shouted for the bartender. "I'll take the usual, Bill."
The bartender looked at Ivan with a puzzled expression. "The usual? Do I know you?"
"Yeah, Bill. It's me, Ivan!"
The bartender rubbed his chin reaching for any recollection of the name but found none. "Sorry, bud. I don't know who you are."
"We've spoken on multiple occasions. We even drank together. Hell, we're practically brothers-" Ivan stopped himself as he noticed the growing confusion in Bill's face. "Fine," he grumbled. "Blackwater brew."
"7 caps please." As Bill counted his caps, he looked over to Marcy. "You ordering?"
Marcy puts the old rag that Ivan had given her in one of her pockets. The smell of alcohol and drunks didn't bother her anymore. She takes a moment to look around the tavern, scouting out the drunks and other visitors for anyone that she might have some recognition of, some glimpse of her past. But seeing no one familiar, she turns back to the bartender.
Marcy Josephine - "I'll take a whiskey please."
She sets a few caps on the counter to pay for the drink.
Bootlegger’s Tavern, Morgantown-
After trudging through the town’s grounded streets for fifteen minutes, Lilith finally finds the tavern. Left hand still slick with blood she pushes open the door with her right. Once inside she scans the interior of the bar for her party, looking over the drinks and misfits that hang around such a place. Once she would’ve felt at home in hole like this with the low lifes, but that time was in the past. Now this place was alien to her. She found it almost repulsive and thought of leaving all together. But she agreed to meet her new found comrades here, and she is at least true to her word. Scaning the crowded bar, she look for the two, then she spotted the two sitting at the bar. She began to walk toward then when suddenly...
"Whiskey coming right up. 12 caps please," the Bill-tender said as he reached under the counter for a room-temperature bottle of whiskey, and a concerningly cloudy glass.
A broken nose and a bruised body were a common sight for the regulars of the downtrodden bar, but a young woman striding through the bar floor coolly with no concern of the blood pouring from her gashed hand and the dangerous environment surrounding her certainly raised a few eyebrows. Some - the less drunk and more perceptive - took notice of the scars on her body and her determined expression and resolved to avoided eye contact and continued with their activities. However, one less perceptive and far more inebriated drunkard saw the dangerous girl as endearing. "Hey," a man walked in front of Lilith's path with a slick expression - or at least the slickest a drunk could pull off. "What brought a pretty lady like you to this two-bit bar, eh? Care for me to buy you a drink?" Behind the man was the bar where Marcy and Ivan were ordering their drinks, but it seemed it would take much more than a plea for the swooning, drunken man to move aside and let Lilith pass to reconvene with her team.
BOOTLEGGERS TAVERN, MORGANTOWN
Marcy pushes twelve caps over the counter to the bartender and takes a big swig of the whiskey before setting it down. She closes her eyes, and just for a moment, she hears something. A voice. Someone that she has known. She couldn't make out what was said before it faded away. She slammed her fist on the bar, frustrated at coming so close to reaching some piece of her past, but alas, it slipped away again.
Her frustration continued to consume her as she turned and saw the man blocking Lilith. While Marcy felt the need to take out some anger, and would love to punch someone, she felt the need to sit back and watch. This was Lilith's problem, and Marcy wants to see if Lilith can solve it.
Bootlegger's Tavern, Morgantown-
That was the one the word that came to Lilith's mind when this man dared to approach her. She was already angry and this heretic's foolish attempts at trying to seduce her with drinks was worsening her already foul mood. Although every bit of her wanted to drag this man back to the shrine she made in the wood and give her god a real sacrifice, but she refrained. There was far too many witnesses here and people would grow suspicious if they never saw that man again. She tried to contain her temper, and in a sweet but strained voice she would say,
"I'm sorry, but I don't partake in drinking. I'm actually here to meet up with my friends."
She hoped this explanation would suffice and make this cretin would go away and stop bothering her. But she knows his type, and she knows they're far too drunk and stupid to understand anything other then violence. She put one hand near her thigh, so if need be, she could pull out one of her daggers.
As the woman entered the bar coolly, many patrons looked over their shoulders in shock. Her name was Levi Iscariot. At least that was what the stitchings on her foxsona fursuit said.
"OwO!!!!1!!!111!!!!!111!!11! What's this?!?!?!?!" she exclaimed loudly as she saw the altercation between Lilith and the drunk man. "H-hewwo????" she approached the man.
"Who the hell are you?" the drunken man grumbled as he pushed the furry back, to which the lunatic woman responded in kind "dId YoU hEcKiN tOuCh Me?!?!?!?!?!?" She let out a loud screech that nearly deafened every patron of the bar, and within seconds, her fursuit's mane turned to a firey yellow.
"She's going Super Sayan!" one man cried amongst the crowd of awed patrons. Soon, her power rose to 9000, then to infinity, and like a nuclear bomb, she wiped Appalachia off of the map. The end.
The woman with brunette hair and anime protagonist neon green highlights, and a scar over one of her anime protagonist amber eyes (that made her look fierce and sexy UwU) entered the bar coolly. Many patrons looked over their shoulders with a sense of awe or confusion at the woman's rather unique appearance. Certainly, many new faces would enter the bar with the diversity that Morgantown regularly attracted, but this woman seemed different from most others, managing to appear both dangerous, wild, and charming just by the way strode into the watering hole. With every step she took, the revolver strung around her hip rattled in its metallic holster, and every so often, she would readjust her hood to retain the mystique and charm of her endearing persona. Her name was Levi Iscariot. At least that was what the red and black stitching on her leather jacket said.
Perhaps too full of herself, she (edgily) approached the drunken man that stood between Lilith and her companions. "Oy, leave her alone," she shouted at the man (edgily) with one firm hand clasped onto the drunken man's outstretched arm before it could reach Lilith's shoulder.
"The hell are you?" the man forcefully retracted his arm, pushing Iscariot back.
With a slight (edgy) smirk, she quickly retorted, "the girl who's going to kick yer ass." Within seconds, she swept the drunken man off of the floor with one well-placed kick. Another strike and he was rendered unconscious. She stared down at the now incapacitated man, poking him with the forepart of her boot. She considered whether or not she should pickpocket him now that she had the opportunity, but as she looked up to see the the entertained spectators waving their beers at amusement, and looking back down at the seemingly destitute drunken man, she thought it wasn't worth it. Shrugging off the encounter but not managing to wipe the cocky smirk off of her face, she nodded at Lilith saying, "Have a good one," before proceeding to her own business at furthest corner of bar.
New decandsor ii
Bootlegger’s Tavern, Morgantown
Lilith looked at the strange woman with an extreme disgust and a strange sense of fear. That woman would be an adversary to be wary of for sure she would think to herself. She would continue her way through the bar, not needing to push back its patrons, due to the fact they willing moved out of her way. The blood on her hand was nearly dried by now. Reaching the bar, she sat down on the stool next to Marcy, exasperated. She considered buying a drink, but decided against it.