...

" - well, Asteroid Geddon as people have come to call it impacted North America in the Canadian Rockies and the resulting cloud of dust disrupted flight for a significant amount of time as well as seeding parts of the atmosphere with Geddonite for eighteen months, which screwed up electronic communication significantly. The US military wasn't really set up to deal with that, and with the state of emergency created when half the economy was suddenly impaired we kinda had a problem. As did, um, other members of the security council...but rogue nations saw this as their chance. I'm not sure if it was Pakistan or North Korea who fired first - "

"Nobody is."

"Yes, sir. But they saw their chance and attacked their enemies, which, um, provoked our retaliatory strikes and then the other global powers responded with NBC weapons which included launching rockets carrying a few tailored viral agents and parasites into the interior of California, which created what we call the plague zombies."

Your point of view slowly shifts to a palm-dotted road through a windshield, a slew of logs blocking the path in front of you. There's a pattering in your ears. You can hear your breathing, and something's over your mouth.

"Missiles, not rockets. And what precipitated the crisis atmosphere?"

"US development of artificial intelligence, wasn't it?"

"You have restored my faith tremendously. Yes, the AI development program was seen as an attempt to outdo all then-existing military systems and fractured the security council tremendously. Washington ordered the project halted because of how much it scared the hell out of the Chinese and everyone else, but it was enough to make people even more edgy than the continental ballistic missile shield. Alright, who can - " the man's voice turns garbled and far away.

"What?" You manage a word, finding it comes out a muffled croak.

"Doc, you conscious? Come on, we need you." The pattering in the background comes into focus. It's gunfire.

You manage to turn your head towards the source of the voice - there's way too much pain involved with such a simple act - and see a gas-mask with Antonov in it, much closer to his usual age. His voice is at once muffled and crackling in your ear and you remember the headset. "Raiders. They hit us with gas, I got the respirator on you. Maybe a dozen, some with armor. Jane took out a few with the crownbreaker but they got her. Truck's not moving."

There's a scent of blood in the cabin. You turn your head to look out the back window and wince at the sight of another member of your group slumped against it, head lolling to the side. Someone's laying down suppression from nearby, though - you can't tell who.

Dammit, this was supposed to be a simple trading run. Visit your sister in Boxtown, scout the Geddonite Plains, use safe roads. Now someone's maybe dead from raiders that weren't supposed to be there and you have a splitting headache.

"Doc? Come on, doc? You gotta dig in now, don't be tellin' me you can't remember your name." Antonov's looking pretty worried.

>What's your name, wastelander?

>>28363571
Johnathan "John" Varkov.

>>28363571
>>What's your name, wastelander?

>Thomas Greene

>>28363603
fine by me

>>28363571
Abraham "Abe" Wilson.

>>28363603
Im good with that

>>28363603
Vaas, just Vaas

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>>28363715
>Hermano, please go. Please, just go. GO. GET OUT OF HERE YOU CHICKENFUCK.

Ten more minutes while OP brews some coffee. Unless the vote changes we've got a clear winner.

>>28363743
"Did I ever tell you the definition of Insanity?"

>>28363743
>Vaas is now the BBEG of your current campaign

How fucked are you?

>>28363715
Lets do this
(last name is montenegro though)

How about 'Doc' Holiday?

>>28363870
I like it, it even fits with the opening fluff

>>28363870
Yeah okay changing vote to this from this: >>28363683

>>28363870
Sure but whats the first name though?
Winston?Harold?John? Roman?

>>28363907
Maddock?

>>28363907
Winston is pretty cool, failing that, john

Counting votes.

>>28363870
>>28363919
this this this this this

>>28363603
>>28363633
>>28363694
>>28363870
>>28363889
>>28363899
>>28363907
>Counted in a vote.
>>28363942
>Late to the party but I'll rename a teammate that just for you, Anon.

>Johnathan Winston Varkov, born into a family of Russian immigrants turned US citizens turned survivalists. 'Holiday' in vocational training 'cause you knew how to find time off.

"Johnny Sawbones ain't out of the fight yet," you manage as you drag out your medic's bag and slide open the back windowpanel, trying for a pulse on Jane.

Antonov grins. "Varkov, you're a rebounding kinda son of a bitch! Hear that, Maddock? Holiday's still with us, he was just takin' a break is all."

You hear Maddock tell Antonov to shut up and start picking off hostiles over the headset. Antonov rolls his eyes and says something about how people just don't know how to have fun. He gets Nadia shouldered and exits the cabin just as you give up looking for a pulse on Jane,

Well, shit. Scratch one gunner. And what's that kind of roaring sound?

>>28364313
I'm okay with this.

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You look around to figure out what the hell's going on and manage to spot an insane-looking bitch on a motorcycle careening towards the lot of you, the thing's chain and engine making way more racket than anything in working ought to. Her makeup-plastered head is a streak of hatred and self-destruction. Fucking whitefaces!

The clown on the motorcycle revs by, a piece of pipe in one hand, and manages to spot your scout - you have time to think he must've been confused by the gas, Harold doesn't usually stand around like a moron, and then the bitch caves in the poor guy's head with her makeshift truncheon just as he lets off a burst of small-caliber fire from a personal defense weapon. Which HITS her.

Bitch is wearing rifle armor.

"HAHAHAHA!" you hear her scream as she puts the bike through a hairpin turn. "REKT."

>Roll 1d100 to grab your marksman rifle and put this beast down, or specify action. First three rolls count.

Rolled 73

>>28364384
Kill the bitch.

>>28364384
>way more racket than anything in working ought to.
Anything in working condition, that is.

Rolled 97

>>28364384
Higher is better, right?

>>28364431
Yep. You rolled pretty well there, writing.

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>97
>Exceptional success
>QM confirms bloody mess roll, fallout style

You shoulder your gun, shove poor Jane out of the way - sorry, gal - and line up on the crazy woman through the back window. The trigger's pleasantly responsive in your hands.

The first few shots are near-misses, but serve to get her to stop and turn her attention to you. While she's lining up the bike to charge your ass, you manage to put two rounds into its tortured machinery. The fucking thing explodes, turning the raider into a pile of gore - her head smacks into a nearby tree with a wet sound, drugged-up expression markedly surprised before the brain stops functioning.

You hear something unexpected - is that a ragged cheer? And then there's gunfire but the bullets aren't coming your way, you see a muzzle-flash pointing straight up, and then a few more to follow it. Apparently these raiders are stupid, they think they've won, and by the sound of it they're mostly packing pistols anyway.

>You have gained the element of surprise!

You look over at a a few grenades and an SMG sitting in the cabin, and then at the fallen trees and ruined walls between you and where their force is likely to be. Got a decision to be made.

>Get over there and blow their stupid asses up with a handy frag.
>Use squad tactics, they're probably a paper tiger
>Try to retreat
>Other

[And roll me some d100s for your action. Any detailed plan will add a bonus to this roll.]

Rolled 30

>>28364689
> Use squad tactics, they're probably a paper tiger
Regroup and share your grenades with your squad members. Use the cover to surround them, then throw in a couple of frags and take care of the survivors with the SMGs. Keep to the high ground or behind walls where the fuckers can't charge at you directly.

Rolled 41

>>28364689
What do we know about the area? We want to get us and our squad to good positions with cover and high ground over where the enemy will be. Then we hit them with grenades and shoot the survivors.

Rolled 87

>>28364689
>Use squad tactics, they're probably a paper tiger

>>28364689
Can we get a description on what the terrain's like, the enemy's position, and what our guys have equipped? It'd help with planning.

>>28364689
>that picture
oh my god is he ok?

>>28364795
>What do we know about the area?

It's a dirt road through a thin jungle that grew here in the last two centuries due to significant climate change. There's some ruined buildings around here and a bit of asphalt scattered here and there from before everything went to shit, but it's not much after two centuries.

To the northeast, maybe a half-hour's drive, is Boxtown - a community of traders with a massively concentrated population that doesn't seem to mind cockpit-style living, maybe a hundred square feet a person in the family units. North of that is an area called the Geddonite Plains. To the southeast is your community.

Why the hell there's raiders here is kind of a mystery, this is supposed to be pretty safe territory.

>Can we get a description on what the terrain's like, the enemy's position, and what our guys have equipped? It'd help with planning.

The terrain's rough, there's roots to trip on and fallen trees and maybe the occasional pit trap or snare if the raiders have been here for a while. You don't know much more because your scout's got a broken skull and you haven't really had a chance to look.

Antonov's got a designated marksman rifle (he calls it Nadia, the sap), Maddock has a decent suppression weapon of some make you're not that familiar with, and you've got your own marksman rifle. You're all carrying machine-pistols as sidearms, though there's a couple of powerful revolvers and a .45 in the cabin if you need to conserve ammo. Also available are the massive crownbreaker anti-materiel rifle on a tripod in the truck's bed, but that's not exactly man portable and the raiders wearing rifle armor are probably all dead. You think.

You're all wearing lightweight anti-ballistics armor, riot police rated and made of a mix of kevlar and things that allow kevlar to bend enough to be made into sleeves for limb protection. You're also wearing respirators, which helped with that weird gas before, and can manage some free running in the suits.

Rolled 17

>>28364802
I'll let you guys keep the 87 but I'm rollin' opposed, so finalize your plan in the next fifteen minutes or so for a bonus.

>>28364989
Okay, so take our time getting into position and finding the enemy. Be quiet, hopefully they're near some buildings. Watch for traps and so on.

The ruined buildings might make for good places to attack from, have Maddock get the high ground and suppress them. Then us and Antonov flank them using grenades on high concentrations of them.

>>28365049
Maybe we could make some traps along expected avenues of approach?

>>28365188
Or make kill zones we can lure them in.

>>28365049
>>28364802
>>28364766
>>28365188
>>28365256

You quietly talk to the others, and they agree you need to eliminate the threat before moving on. You then pass out grenades, leaving the SMG where it lies, and begin moving into position and laying makeshift explosives in a few useful places in case you have to retreat. You also spot a killzone or two.

Five minutes later, you're twenty meters away from a makeshift camp, complete with a bonfire and captives bound to trees. The raiders are arguing.

"Where's that bike bitch? She had half the supply of dust with her. Bitch should be here by now."

"Let's just loot 'em. Big Jake don't care about her diseased ass none, fuckin' whiteface. Truck's worth more'n her stupid bike."

There is a chorus of voices expressing an interest in killing and eating the captives first which is in turn shouted down by others who want to sell them, eat you, or keep your corpses as a trade good. You use this time wisely, and soon Maddock's parked in a pile of rubble that overlooks their camp. You and Antonov angle off to fitting positions and are set just in time to watch them start killing the captives. Maddock signals readiness and you toss grenades, one of which explodes close enough to a rack of liquor bottles to set a fire and shower nearby raiders in glass as well as metal. Five men die in the clusterfuck, and three more are wounded to the point of being out of the fight.

One of the leaders isn't deterred, yells something about Big Jake not taking this kind of shit, and promptly charges right at Maddock in a drug-induced haze - maybe 'dust' referred to angel dust?

Three or four other assholes promptly start shooting back with pistols. Antonov brings down two immediately and one runs to close as your buddy on the rubble-pile lets out a strangled cry; you turn to see him being thrown to the ground by a huge, bleeding, drugged up raider, and your finger pulls the trigger back repeatedly without a conscious thought.

>>28365366
There is the glint of a knife as Jake turns to face you, a slow arc of red spreading from it as he flicks off Maddock's blood. You grimace, shooting at him again and again as he charges, but there's only so much stress you can take before your aim goes to shit under assault from a side of beef full of what could be PCP. And then the rest of the assholes start to charge too.

"Fuck it," you tell Antonov, and the both of you run back the way you came, leaping over obstacles, hoping nobody stops to shoot. A few long moments later you hear a satisfying BOOM and make it behind a log, then line up your sights on a couple of raiders and put them out of your misery. Killzones and parkour, you think as you sit there panting like an animal. Thank God for the trainers back home. You're going to apologize to their faces for all the shit-you said, every bit of back-talk. Fuck.

You make it back to Maddock who quieted down like any good survivalist and - shit, he's bleeding something serious from that stab wound, luckily nothing vital but that could be a vein. You tell Antonov to get you the usual and break out the paramedic gear. There's bleeding to staunch and a wound to be cleaned and sown up.

>Roll 1d100 to fix your friend.
>Choose an infodump:
[ ] History after the collapse
[ ] Communities in the region
[ ] Hazards, mutants, and other dangerous groups

Rolled 52

>>28365503
[X] Hazards, mutants, and other dangerous groups

Rolled 16

>>28365503
>[ ] Communities in the region

>>28365596
>>28365643
>Well, guess I'll give summaries on both.

You send Antonov to get you a nice young coconut off of one of the nearby trees and set to work on Maddock, applying a tourniquet to stop the bleeding and cleaning the wound. The work is second-nature to you by now, so your mind's free to go over what you know about your situation while you busy your hands.

There's evidently more trouble around here than you thought. Sure, you cleaned house when it came to these stupid thugs, but you've also lost your scout and the woman trained to put bullets through anything that needed a serious amount of firepower to put down, and without Harold's experience all you have to go on is scattered rumors and halfway-confirmed news.

So, aside from whatever irradiated crap lives in the jungle there's been signings of huge wild dogs and cats the size of a damn motorcycle, not to mention shambling things that look like they come from those pulp horror books they have in the library back home, gorilla-like in their awfulness.

Then there's the slavers. The raider bands take captives, but slaver groups operate industrially, running captives to places like New Sparta. They don't typically go around drugged up to their eyeballs, either, and some of them have working vehicles.

There's also been radio reports about something called MAJESTY describing men in metal armor that explode if you manage to kill them, but there've been no sightings of anything like that where you're from - at least none you know about. You'd occasionally see helicopters, though. Some of the reports had helicopters...but there haven't been any in a while.

The jungle ends to the north, where the ruins of the megalopolis of Light City begin, running east and west to bridge the urban sprawl that was once the cities of Chicago and Detroit with hundreds of miles of ruined city blocks and rubble that used to be high-rises that was built during the tail end of the last century. And in there dwell monsters.

>>28365950
Wait, where are we from? We're using Fabrique Generale weaponry, and I thought Majesty was common knowledge amongst them. Are we from one of the allied communities?

>>28365950
Antonov walks by and drops a couple of coconuts at your feet. You take out the relevant tools and open one up, adding a packet of dried blood plasma to create something a lot like saline. It won't be ideal forever - too much potassium - but it's a damn sight faster than making a stretcher and dragging Maddock back to the car. You ready an IV and put the needle into Maddock, hanging the coconut from a nearby sapling in a makeshift sling, and sit there while he starts to come around. Rehydrated bloodstreams are a heck of a thing.

You consider where the hell you're going to go next as Antonov starts to unceremoniously loot the corpses and you finish the lingering survivors off, collecting blood from them to sell to the clinic those vulture bastards run as you go. This navigation thing is another problem Harold and Jane would've been a help for. Dammit.

There's Boxtown, which is maybe an hour away with all the looting and patching and other bullshit. Thousands to tens of thousands of relocated asians that desended from the migrant group out of the ruins of Chicago's chinatown. They've been here since their great-grandparents built a wall to keep the raiders out in the bad old days and started training and breeding like crazy, and as the area got secure and the farmers became more productive the population skyrocketed...a lot faster than it should've. Now you can find anything there from a capable surgeon to a goddamn cannibal to a shoemaker to a gunsmith.

There's the Plains, which are home to nothing particularly great, and the satellite farming communities that keep Boxtown fed - places like Rivergrove and Twisted Neck. There's slaver communities, the biggest of which is New Sparta and known only by reputation. There's talk of a new community in the city ruins at the base of the huge tower you can see on the horizon if you find yourself on a hill or clearing and the weather allows, something like V-town or Victry-town. Imight as well all be rumor to you.

>>28366124
Maddock's coming around now. The both of you get to looting, and you try to get off the mental footing of what's needed back home - you've got some trade goods, but nobody in Hadley's Ferry is going to need you dying from a lack of prioritization. All told it's pretty boring, a dozen and a half bodies to sell to the gristmen, a good amount of ammunition and some shitty handguns, two SMGs, and three bolt-action hunting rifles. You open a case to find a few strange canisters and a longarm you don't have much familiarity with.

>You have found strange artifacts!
[Roll d100 to identify loot.]

All told it's a bit more than you'd be comfortable shoving into the truck bed, though. You can dump the canned goods or the sealed medical supplies and bury them until you come back to get them later, the bodies are valuable and perishable...but then again, the price of food and antiseptic might've gone up if there's been raider activity.

>Wat take?

>>28366124
You're from Hadley's Ferry, a river-town of survivalists a significant distance to the southwest of the Geddonite Plains, which were south of Light City. It's a prosperous place, walled but possessed of its own clinic, schoolhouse, trade schools, machine shop, and library - the outlying farms are decently patrolled, and the elders train new specialists as often as they can. Jane had a crownbreaker because she went far enough north to trade with these Fabrique Generale people she was always goin' on about, but their caravans never went far enough south to meet any of 'em and it's rough ranging out that far. You've heard a lot of radio contact between them and various groups, though - Schmidtsburg, a community you've never seen, has been mentioned repeatedly.

Rolled 14

>>28366321
>Take the canned goods and medical supplies. Harvest blood and valuable organs from the raiders.

Rolled 2

>>28366321

Rolled 32

>>28366321

>>28366353
>>28366364
>>28366400
>Success with penalty
>Failure
>Catastrophic failure

Writing.

You toss Antonov some syringes and other assorted kit for extracting blood from the viable lingering raiders; they're all going to breathe their last within a quarter-hour but in the meantime you'll get a few bags - and even if they're diseased, that's new data for the clinic. Doctors pay plenty to know what epidemic's coming their way next. You hope they happen to be clean enough to get you the kind of reward a sawbones shells out for contributing to his bloodbank, though, 'cause you'd like to afford a steak tonight that didn't come out of a dog. Here's hoping.

A few of the corpses in better condition are tossed into the truck's bed, and you have three more trade goods. Pity to leave the rest, but their guns and ammo are worth something. As Antonov's hauling off the last of it, you examine the finds.

>32
>Odd longarm
You manage to figure out that this is an Opaque Industries smartgun. Opaque was a company that operated in the North American midwest after the collapse, making all kinds of interesting kit but more or less dissappearing about fifty years ago. Nobody really knows why, but you find their products just lying around because of how ubiquitous they got. Smartguns are capable of differentiating between targets just by being aimed at them and adjusting accordingly, but the thing has an AI you know nothing about, needs adjustment and calibration, and doesn't exactly come with a crate of ammo.

>14
>Canisters

You have no idea what the hell they are, except that they have pull-rings and don't look like any kind of grenade you've ever seen. The writing on their labels has almost completely faded. You try to move them carefully...

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>2
Catastrophic failure

...but one goes off, and you hear a hiss of dissipating gas. You manage to pull your rebreather back on and then everything goes black for a while until your vision swims back into focus, Antonov's ugly mug over you with smelling salts in one hand. You retch, pull off the rebreather, and lose your breakfast.

Maddock didn't have a rebreather on, though - you took his mask off when you were working on him, and now he's out cold. Fuck. Vitals aren't great, but they're not getting any worse. You and Antonov eventually get your shit sufficiently together to put him on a stretcher and into the backseat. The mood is sour as you clear the stupid fucking logs out of the way with some chain and careful driving, and the sun inches towards the horizon as you finally drive off toward Boxtown.

The walls and fires are a welcome sight. You greet the gate-guards with a vague familiarity, having been here before, and pay for a secure spot in one of the many garages. Asian guys with eyes like dinner plates stare at the heap of supplies on your truck, waiting for you to make a damn trade already or leave so they can jack your shit.

Do you:

[ ] Take care of Maddock yourself while Antonov does some trading?
[ ] Get Maddock to a clinic with some hired help while Antonov guards the truck?
[ ] Talk to the town elders about news, burial rights for Harold and Jane, and to ask around about that missing sister of yours?
[ ] Visit the market to get rid of some of this weight?
[ ] Go to the clinic to trade in blood?

>go to the machine shop
>recruit

>>28366794
>>go to the machine shop
>>recruit
Whoops. You can in fact try to recruit more teammates or visit a fabrication shop, but I figured the perishables, dead teammates, and medical concerns were more pressing.

>>28366794
>[ ] Go to the clinic to trade in blood?

>>28366849
seconding this

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>>28366849
>>28366959
You tell Antonov to keep an eye on things and grab the cooler full of bags of harvested blood, setting off for Doc Wong's and hoping you remember the way. Navigating the twisting passages is easy enough on the whole so long as you know the signs and ignore the occasional comment about how you're a roundeye, and soon you're deep in the bowels of the place, a head taller than most of the stooping, squinting residents, who give your blood-spattered, gun-carrying armored figure as wide a berth as the twisting passages allow.

You eventually come to a door with a red cross in peeling paint, but something makes you linger for a moment. There's voices inside that sound like they belong to better-fed and better-educated people than anyone around here's likely to be.

"...estimate that one in a hundred will die from the allergic reaction."

"By way of anaphylaxis?" That's Wong, unmistakably. He seems agitated.

"Yes. We've been asked to be part of the distribution team for the medical assistance given anyone this far away, as some people are going to have a limited reaction. You've seen cases in other clinics here by now, we had a look at a few today."

"Well. I suppose I'll be told if there's a better treatment developed than not being nearby when the stuff's dumped onto whole regions. Better than the radiation, I suppose."

"You will. We've got to go do this in the next town over tomorrow morning, so if you'll excuse us. Nice meeting you."

There's the sound of boots on a metal floor.

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>>28367244
The clinic door opens, and a pair of men in white riot armor stride past you. You notice there's something unnatural about their eyes as they momentarily glance at you, and then do a double-take. There's no white in either man's eyeballs - only blue.

They give you a glance and a nod and move off down the corridor. You get a look at red and white patches on their shoulders - a caduceus each - and the letters DRBL on the back panels of their armor, then turn back to see Wong staring at you like he's looking at a mental deficient.

"Come in or stay out, Holiday, but close the damn door. What do you want this time?"

You give him a weary look and shut the door behind you, then haul the cooler onto a ramshackle table and brace in case it gives way. "Got some blood for ya. Who the hell were those guys?"

Wong practically salivates. "Darwin Labs out of the city ruins. Someone left alive in there." He refuses to answer anything else until after he assesses the blood, and in an hour or two of quick and dirty testing determines that two of the raiders were relatively disease-free. You're able to trade some off to replace your expended supplies with room to spare for further barter. "Congratulations, you get blood-bank price. Whadda ya want for it?"

Pick two:

>A lot more medical supplies, you have a bare minimum if this raider shit's going to ramp up.
>You could use some damn combat drugs.
>Free treatment for Maddock.
>Information. Who were those guys, and what the hell is going on around here? Have raider attacks been on the rise?
>A favor.

>>28367407
>>Free treatment for Maddock.
>A lot more medical supplies, you have a bare minimum if this raider shit's going to ramp up.

>>28367407
Maddock's got family back in town, he's not a footloose scout living by what skill and wit will earn like you are.

You ask Wong if he's got an empty bed that's not soaked with blood and viscera. Wong calls you a prick and indicates he spends the energy of himself and his staff specifically to keep the beds clean, the goddamn barter table doesn't need to be as clean as the beds, this place is a leaky shithole anyway and everything's sealed.

You call Wong a third-rate veterinarian and tell him where to send his boys to get Maddock and that Antonov will be watching in case they bump his head against anything like the drunken stool pigeons they probably are, whereupon Wong says a variety of things in some Asian dialect and tells you to bring him blood with less bubonic plague in it next time you have a present for him.

You both agree that absence makes the heart grow fonder while you shove a bunch of antiseptic and gauze and bandage in your bag, coming away with catgut and a few essential instruments you needed spares for, some decent drugs for fighting infection and a good stock of shunts.

Wong stares you down as you nick more of his supplies until he tells you to get the fuck out for a few hours so he can provide Maddock with better care than your hackneyed medical knowledge can provide.

>>28367847
"Oh, Jack, one more thing before you leave me in peace," he says. He knows you hate that fucking name. "Li wanted to see you. So go crawl to the other side of town before you leave, maybe he needs someone to practice surgery on."

"How much he take from ya in last week's poker game?" Wong mutters darkly at this and reminds you where the door is.

Li's a lot more civil than Wong, thankfully, but he IS on the north side of boxtown and there's a few thousand people between you and him. Plenty of them gang members, thieves, and probably cannibals if you have to cross by way of the lower levels, and they'll be closing the gates any minute.

Guess you've got one more reason to overnight here.

You get back to the garage and share the news. Antonov is curious about the guys in white riot armor and says some of the caravan traders have mentioned them back home, but knows little else. He meets Wong's orderlies when they bring the stretcher and leaves with them to hang around with Maddock for a while. You see traders coming your way to make offers on the various goods.

[ ] Try to get some news out of them
[ ] Hire some teamsters to haul this to the market and trade there
[ ] Ask them about the strange gas cylinders and the smartgun
[ ] Ask them if there's any scouts or gunners for hire they know of
[ ] Write-in

>>28367881
>[ ] Ask them about the strange gas cylinders and the smartgun

[OP's gonna take a short break on account of horrible pain screwing up writing ability, back at 23:00.]

>>28367881
>[ ] Try to get some news out of them

>>28368261
>>28368584
Writing.

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You make your interests known in regard to the canisters and local happenings.

"Watcha gonna GIVE me, roundeye?"

The leader of the local traders that are willing to bother with you at this time of night this far away from an actual market is twelve, undernourished, and uninterested in most of your shit. Guns? Already got 'em. Medicine? We don't plan on living that long. Food? Can openers are hard to get, man. It goes on like this until her eyes alight on the corpses.

"Momma's gonna be eatin' steak tonight!"

You hand over a corpse. They pass around one of the cylinders for a while until one of them pulls back from it in recognition. "Gas grenade," he says, "Knockout gas a scavenger had once, dropped it on a gang in one of the courtyards. Bad. There were a dozen of them, was supposed to knock them out but killed two. Also twice as many people who had nothing to do with it, killed five of them. Called it feentanel."

You look at the containers thoughtfully. He probably means fentanyl, which makes some degree of sense.

>You have gained nine knockout gas grenades!

You then ask them to give you some news. They say there's not much aside from the bombing campaign and so on, you know, to the north in Light City.

You tell them you don't know much about that and start to feel your mouth go dry - your sister was supposed to be working in that area this last month, some lucrative job offer.

"What, you southern or just living under a rock? There was a rain of huge bombs a month ago. There's radiation up north now, lots of people starving to death, and some just dying from whatever they're dropping on the bastards now. Been machines flying overhead, dropping stuff. I can't believe your asses didn't hear about it, what kinda backwoods you from?"

You feel sweat on your palms. Oh, shit. You hope you find Laura soon.

(1/2)

The girl and the others eventually leave, hauling off their gains. Seems like all's quiet on this front, the garages are closing for the night. You can probably throw a tarp over the damn thing and go do whatever you feel like doing. The guy renting you the garage space tosses you a key on his way out after closing and locking the rusted vehicle access door with much grunting and swearing.

[ ] Check on Maddock in the clinic. If Wong lets you in.
[ ] Ask around about Laura.
[ ] Look for a room for the night.
[ ] Seek a different trade (you have guns, canned goods, and a couple of corpses left; Antonov will sell the corpses to someone before he gets ).
[ ]Write-in

(2/2)

>>28370393
>[ ] Ask around about Laura.

>>28370442
seconded

>>28370393
>[ ] Ask around about Laura.

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>>28370442
>>28370574
You go out the side door and lock up, then enter the ramshackle town again and start visiting Laura's usual haunts - the eateries she tolerated are your first step, so you head to the mid-storeys, not too close to the ground but not so high up that nobody would bother to haul anything heavier than a rat up there. You try the better southside repair shops, the two or three bars approaching any kind of clean, and the ammo press; you check the mail station on this side and ask if there's been anything posted; you ask around at the safer female-only flophouses and the heavily armed women eventually relent in their request that you get the fuck out of here and tell you what you need to know. Though it does almost always cost you ammo or medicine or food.

After two or three hours of this you sit down with a plate of beans, a steak that's probably from something that had hooves on it before it died and bread less than a week old with a feeling of mild relief. She was here - and not too long ago, three weeks at most. But oddly enough she wasn't coming to this side of town to eat and sleep, preferring the north side - the side closer to the geddonite plains, and the of boxtown that's currently on the other side of a bunch of junkies and drug pushers, fugitive outlaws, disreputable manufacturers, doctors, and dentists, and the local gang. Though if you go to the lowest levels you'll find your fill of cannibals.

The gates are locked, though, and the perimeter wall doesn't allow straightforward passage all the way around. And from the sound of it raider activity's been a daily threat with multiple fatalities outside the wall and the occasional night attack.

(1/2)

This leaves you a choice of waiting to cross through Boxtown's interior by day (which is potentially very costly and somewhat dangerous), trying to make it at night (which is less costly but far more dangerous whether you go through the upper or lower levels), and going around the perimeter without rifle armor or a team (which is likely dangerous at any time). You could always hire an escort, if you can find an honest one that won't charge an arm and a leg. Cheap ones'll be glad to leave you bleeding in some dark hole in the depths of this place and run off with all your shit. You grimace.

It's late. You consider buying a drink, then remember you have no idea what they're brewing in the local stills and how much of it is wood alcohol.

You mull over your options and try to come up with a plan.

[ ] Try to find a useful contact to get you across.
[ ] Bed down for the night, this is a problem for a fresh head and a fresh morning.
[ ] Check on Antonov and Maddock.
[ ] Assemble kit and get going towards Boxtown northside.
>[ ] Go over the roofs, you're good at free running and long jumps
>[ ] Go through the mid-levels, you'll shoot anyone you can't bribe.
>[ ] Go through the lower levels, the cannibals down there hardly understand guns. And hey, you have knockout gas grenades.

[ ] Write-in.


(2/2)

>>28371314
>[ ] Check on Antonov and Maddock.

>>28371314
>[ ] Assemble kit and get going towards Boxtown northside.
>>[ ] Go over the roofs, you're good at free running and long jumps

>>28371314
Check on Antonov and Maddock

>>28371420
>Secretary General
[Hey, guess you made it after all. Let me know what you think of the thread so far.]

>>28371424
>>28371353

You decide you've spent enough time indulging in family problems. You're about due with Wong anyway, so you lurch off toward the clinic and hope there was nothing particularly indigestible in that meal. Boxtown's the nucleus of a dozen food trade routes, but you just never know.

When you get there, you find Antonov standing outside the door with a clove in one hand, holding it between thumb and forefinger like he can't help himself despite more than five generations on American soil and idly wiping blood off his other hand on his pant-leg. You ask him for the news on Maddock, apprehensively eyeing the blood.

"Nah, this is just 'cause I leaned against a dirty table, Wong can't keep anything clean unless it's an operating theater or a critical care unit. Homeboy's pretty weak. Wong's people want to watch him until morning, though he did wake up, coughing and pissed when Wong told him there was crutch-work in store before his leg would mend."

You wince. "I feel kinda like I fucked him up, it was my plan as much as anyone else's."

Antonov looks at you like you're still kids on Little Novgorod street practicing for a target shooting match with Mayview. "Listen, Vanya, you're good at sowing people up and you're a decent shot but ain't no instrument in your possession for detecting PCP use from behind walls and thick trees. He's gonna be fine. You got any other news?"

(1/2)

>>28371755
You tell Antonov about the bombing up north. He shakes his head and expresses incredulity that anything's left to bomb, so you follow up with your story about the men in white riot armor.

>>28371420

"Listen, I think I picked up Laura's trail. She's been on Northside, and I gotta get over there. What do you think about packing some kit and trying to cross over the roofs?"

Antonov actually whistles. "You got it bad, whatever you got. Big sister needs you without a broken neck, but if you're gonna be this stupid about it least I can do is offer to go with you."

>Wat do?
[ ] Pack some gear, specify choices
[ ] Try a different option for getting to Northside
[ ] Other

(2/2)

>>28371769
What gear do we have?

>>28371861
Weapons:
Handguns/personal defense weapons: five machine pistols, two powerful revolvers, and a .45 all made in your hometown's machine shop.

Longarms include two marksman rifles firing sniper ammo, a suppression weapon, and three SMGs, most of them turned on lathes back home, and three raider hunting rifles in addition to Jane's fucking huge Crownbreaker anti-materiel rifle made by Fabrique Generale.

You also have a dozen frag grenades, nine knockout gas grenades, and ample ammo for everything but the Crownbreaker.

You have five sets of lightweight body armor that'll stop anything smaller than a rifle or a heavy penetrator with some inserts you usually take out if you're gonna be screwing around with free running, a couple pairs of goggles and respirators and four gas masks with faceplates, some helmets that obstruct hearing and vision more than you'd like, and headset radios for communication.

You're flush with various medical supplies mostly useful for battlefield medicine, though there's also survival-related kit for water purification and other essentials.

Everything else is trade goods, shitty bandit target pistols and the non-functional smartgun (the UI is unfamiliar to you and you have maybe three magazines of ammo for it).

>>28372047
You know what, let's add some fighting knives and four bayonets for your rifles. Just realized your melee weapons were kind of nonexistant.

>>28372047
what about the truck? or is it locked in the garage until morning?

>>28372105
It's secured until morning unless you want to take the time to find the garage owner, which will require rolls to navigate Boxtown.

>>28372047
>Take a machine pistol, smg, two knockout grenades, the body armor and respirators if they work against the gas, if not take the gas masks.

>>28372175
Are we taking Antonov? I vote we do and he's kitted out with more or less the same gear as us, maybe a frag instead of a knockout grenade.

>>28372047
Probably going to want to ditch the AMR. That sort of weight is tough to ruck. Give Jane some sort of marksman rifle because muh encumbrance. Body armor is also good, provided you aren't planning on acting as light infantry and carry a massive pack.

Are there any smoke grenades? How prevalent are chemical/airborne hazards in general?

>>28372412
Jane's dead.

>>28372412
>>28372431
Yep. I'm afraid she's been without a pulse since the beginning of the thread, did you mean Antonov? He's currently the only member of your team that isn't in a body bag or a clinic.

>>28372431
>>28372453

Feeling stupid as shit

How available are cars? What about bicycles?

What's the general idea for travel? Covert, overt?

>>28372453
>Body Armor
It's this kinda body armor, except with sleeves made of kevlar treated with non-newtonian fluids to allow for flexibility when not stressed: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1zIprpGzSJs

Less than ten pounds, but it can stop pistol cartriges short of something pretty serious. In essence your limbs are also bulletproof, as are your boots. Try not to get shot in the hands, face, or head if you need to jump from roof to roof, or take the helmet and suffer penalties 'cause it infringes on hearing and vision a bit. As do gas masks, though you've got respirators and goggles for those reasons.

If you want to trade for rifle-armor there's a huge market a couple minutes away.

>smoke grenades
You don't have any, but you can get 'em

>How prevalent are chemical/airborne hazards in general?
Probably the worst hazard is getting infected by the goddamn food here, or something dripping down out of a butcher shop. There's some badly shielded boilers and so forth, though, and the pipes are leaky for twenty stories' worth of metal shantytown, but aside from a few fourth-story manufactories failing to channel their exhaust toward the outside of the building you're likelier to slip in water than choke in a cloud of acid by a large margin.

>>28372522
You and the team came here in a truck that's locked up in a garage for safekeeping.

Working cars are rare, and you could probably hire one if pressed, but you're locked in by the southside fence for safety so getting out to where you can drive around to northside is currently a problem.

Bicycles may be available, but you're not gonna bike across the roof without falling off because it's not a flat surface. Plus you're trying to cross to the other side of a maze-like shantytown maybe two hundred yards across, and it's built so densely that you can go across without ever touching the ground. It's just full of risks.

>>28372453
>He's currently the only member of your team that isn't in a body bag or a clinic.

don't underestimate us op
the night is still young i'm sure we can fuck up antonov somehow

>>28372522
see
>>28371264 and >>28371314
should maybe help understand whats going on

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>>28372344
>>28372175
You accept Antonov's offer and the two of you go back to the garage, each taking armor and a couple of grenades - Antonov grabs a frag but the rest are knockouts - and arming yourselves with SMGs and machine pistols. You clip your medical bag to your back securely while your friend straps on a knife and puts some rope and small, valuable goods into his own pack alongside a few clips worth of extra ammo, and goggles and respirators for the both of you complete your preparations.

The climb to the top floors is largely uneventful; some old guy leading around a few younger, beefier family members asks for a bribe and you give him a can of beans. This seems to suffice.

Once you make it to the roof things are a tad different - there's no lack of lighting, considering the patchwork surface around you is anything but a sound structure, with various dwellings making up the upper limit of this or that stack of box-shaped domiciles, a tower splitting into multiple levels here or leaning slightly in the wind there.

To the right side, you can see a well-lit pathway to the central area that's almost straightforward, but obviously patrolled by different groups and which will definitely require bribery.

To the left side, you see fifty meters of darkness peppered with illumination revealing stable surfaces that are scattered here and there. You could probably find your way through, but it's twenty stories up if you manage to find a shaft - though most falls will be broken by some ramshackle dwelling roof a story or two below.

Everywhere and especially in front of you, you see piles of trash, breezy getaways for layabouts wanting to smell fresh air, rooftop gardens, and the occasional playground for Boxtown's endless children. You wonder if any of them are reaching the age where you turn from a curiosity to a potential source of loot. Or meat, for the sufficiently desperate and those who can't sell the product of a useful skill.

>Action?

[ ] Go right, see who needs bribing and who needs shooting.
[ ] Go left, see if you can find a way through.
[ ] Climb the trash pile in front of you and try to find a different approach.
[ ] Get the fuck out of here! We're twenty ramshackle stories above ground, I didn't sign up for this shit!

>>28373004
>[ ] Go right, see who needs bribing and who needs shooting.

About how many groups would be have to bribe? If there aren't many we could use knock out gas to disable them.

>>28373029
>About how many groups would be have to bribe?
Depends on roll results. You could always fight them and hope nobody else came running.

Few more minutes if there are additional votes.

>>28372989
>clips

Those machine pistols better be broomhandles OP

>>28373056
Must be getting sleepy. Should I have used 'magazines?' I am not a sophisti/k/ated man, for all that I'd like to be.

Rolled 43, 59, 98 = 200

>>28373075
>>28373056
Yep, should've used 'magazine.' Getting coffee now.

Someone give me a 3d100 roll, please.

Rolled 76, 79, 99 = 254

>>28373175

Rolled 60, 37, 85 = 182

>>28373175
>>28373219
>43 vs 76
You start moving off to the right, encountering almost no-one until you're halfway to the center of the roof - but then a gang crosses your path. Six men with knives and clubs and four with pistols menace you from the shadows, and their leader steps into your path demanding you give him something to make his time worthwhile.

>59 vs 79
You reach for your medical bag, wondering what this is going to cost you in expensive painkillers that can be used recreationally, but Antonov stops you. He adopts a submissive posture and offers the man a gas grenade, and the bandit leader evidently assumes nothing particularly dangerous will come of it - though something about his posture brings some of the more protective gang members closer. And then Antonov pulls the pin and disappears in a puff of fog as he rolls away while you toss a second knockout canister into the knot of gangers to your right, hoping to take out two gunmen.

(1/2)

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>>28373634
>98 vs 99
Within seconds, men are dropping or on the run, but several manage to hold their breath long enough to land blows at the two of you, which motivates you to run for the well-lit central area. You manage to stay on your feet the whole way, but the guys behind you give chase as best they can, several stopping when they reach high ground to take potshots at you seemingly without concern for their fellows. Luckily for them, they miss each other and succeed in inflicting a hitson Antonov and yourself that might be grazing if not for the armor.

You breathe raggedly, ducking and rolling and leaping obstacles like a man possessed, and then manage to come to a straightaway that ends in a blind turn to the central shaft, the three gang members who haven't given up right behind you. As the distance toward the ledge shortens, you roll to the side to stop yourself and Antonov pulls off a fancy leap onto a pile of scrap, turning to shoot at your pursuers - one peels off, but the other two do their best to close the distance while under fire, hoping to solve the problem at its source.

That's when you grab them and shove them unceremoniously over the ledge.

The screams are short and sharp; you must've gotten them at least halfway to bottom.

You see some other territorial gang approach, their hands up to indicate they mean you no harm. Their leader looks impressed with you, and steps forward.

"That was about the most interesting thing to happen all night. We've been trying to get one over those guys all month, so in a show of gratitude I'll offer to escort you out of our territory and down to northside in exchange for a bit of work on some of our wounded boys. Or...for some trade goods, or a token fight. Your call."

[ ] Offer treatment.
[ ] Offer barter.
[ ] Offer a test of strength.
[ ] Refuse/other.

(2/2)

>>28373679
>might be grazing if not for the armor
Might be grazing wounds if not for the armor's protection.

>>28373679
>[ ] Offer treatment.

>>28373720
seconding

The man nods at your decision to offer medical treatment, introducing himself as Bao and explaining that he leads a group of communists, if you could call it that. He brings you to a shed some distance towards the Northside end of the roof and opens the door; you go inside, and Bao and his men follow. The largest of them - a man Bao mentions is called Sung - moves to the bedside of another tall Asian that appears to have a family resemblance - as far as you can tell, anyhow.

The room's crammed with a few dozen cots, all of them covered in blanket-bundled people, many of them bloodstained. There's a woman in a makeshift nurse's uniform walking around, a red cross splashed onto her sleeves and shirtfront in what you hope is paint, but it's hard to tell. She tells you to call her Linda and describes the various problems - many of them infections, fevers, and other ongoing problems, but a few with what looks to be simple malnutrition.

Antonov goes outside to smoke for a minute, then comes in and helps you with your work. You're just settling in to your second case, some skin disease or something, when the door swings open once again and another group enters bearing the same gang emblems as Bao's crew. "Fucking Boxers attacked us in neutral territory," their leader tells his counterpart. "Righteous fists my ass. Some gunshot wounds, a few stab wounds and maybe a broken bone, for all the good that'll do."

"No, friend," Bao responds, "we've got a doctor tonight. Spotted his medical bag while he was throwing those Harmony assholes down into the central courtyard." The other man grins darkly and nods in your direction, as the huge Sung brothers notice yet another tall asian with a familial resemblance being carried in by friends. Their concern is palpable, and the healthy one tells you that if his brothers live, they'll gladly work for you if you need them - though Bao looks irritated, he nods his assent.

Well, you're in it now.

>Roll 3d100

Rolled 99, 27, 71 = 197

>>28373943

Rolled 10, 33, 27 = 70

>>28373943

>99
>Exceptional success

You tell the nurse you need saline so could she boil some saltwater to get the impurities out, handing her a small water filter and a bag of salt tablets you keep handy for when there's no coconuts around. She finds a suitable pot and soon you have a source of IV fluids. In the meantime, you set to work triaging and treating all the people you can find in precarious health, working hard to apply everything you've been taught about infection, fever, wound care, and whatever else comes up. Bones are set and splints jury-rigged, wounds sown, and no end of drugs administered as you work into the morning hours. Finally, you find yourself finished, nearly exhausted by your efforts.

>27
Success with penalty

The supplies don't hold up nearly as well as the people, and between the newly wounded coming in the door every hour or two and the sheer number of things that need to be done, you end up using almost three-quarters of your supplies.

>71
>Success with bonus

You manage to teach the nurse quite a bit, though, and between that and just the relief of having a trained medical practitioner of some kind around you soon find yourself on the receiving end of enough in the way of gifts - spices, mostly - that you'll be able to replenish your stock to two thirds of what you had pretty quickly.

Bao also encourages you to feel free to move through his territory freely anytime you need to, and gives you their identifying mark, a red sash with some chinese characters painted on it in yellow-orange.

>You have gained a good reputation with Boxtown's northside communists!

>You have gained experience in training others.

The Sung brothers are quite satisfied with your effort on their behalf, and the healthiest tells you he's up for a favor anytime and his relatives will be when they're well - at which point they may well agree to leave Boxtown, should you need their help elsewhere. They are decent marksmen and brawlers as well as good machinists.

(1/2)

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>>28374126

You wake up a dozing Antonov, glad he had enough sense to be rested in case there's trouble on the way down, and are escorted to the edge of the gang's territory and down to more civilized areas, the sash and the company defusing a good few would-be shakedowns on the way. They bring you to Doctor Li's clinic, and the old man opens the much less run-down looking door and greets you as a favored nephew - must've been all the pharmaceutical exchanges and penicillin mold cultures you sent with Laura, or something.

His clinic is pristine, his staff is bright-eyed and optimistic despite living in a shanty-maze, and his patients look less disgruntled with the world than Wong's, so you feel better about the prospect of taking a nap in a back room - but you didn't come here to lay in a patch of sunshine.

"Your southside colleague mentioned you were looking for me, Doctor. What can I do for you?"

"Well John, it's about Laura - she left something in my keeping for you, said it was important you got it when you came by and left it about three weeks back, and then went north into the ruins. Said there'd be word, but then...well, there's been none. And she didn't look too good, you know? Maybe you young people ought to get more regular meals, or something. Anyway, I'll let you have a look, eh?"

Li takes a cloth satchel out of a cupboard and passes it to you, then shows you to an empty exam room where you can examine its contents quietly. It takes you a moment to notice, but it's quite heavy - and contains only a large, dark metallic box with a hinged lid and an impression in its surface of a pawn wearing a crown. You flip the top, revealing a dark screen and a panel of buttons, one plainly an on switch.

>Activate it.
>We're not safe here! This could be important.
>Take it to a chop shop, the hell IS this thing?
>You need sleep, this'll keep until later.
>Other [specify].

(2/2)

>>28374254
>>Activate it.

>pawn-king symbol

shit just got real
Laura mite b in over her head

>>28374285
Let's. Seconding.

You've come all this way, and despite a twinge of survivalist paranoia that makes you want to tear the thing open and make sure there's not a bomb in it, you flip the on switch.

The screen comes to life, displaying the logo of an 8-bit pawn wearing a crown for a few moments. Then it loads a user interface with a few file folders; you look in the OPERATIONS folder and find transcripts with names like RISE and BLAZING SWORD, then poke around in the PROJECTS folder reading about spider tanks and budgets as they're reviewed in executive meetings, transcript text files with names like OVERCHARGE and SONATA scrolling by. Someone's either writing fiction or doing a little spying, eh? Well, the deal-making and trade goods Laura brought the hometown had to be gotten somehow.

You close them and open a file named 'READ THIS, JOHN' to find a letter from her. Well, a note. You start reading, get as far as "Hey, little brother," and shake your head. Eleven months apart and she'll never stop calling you that, maybe it started when you got bumped up a grade in school. Whatever.

"Hey, little brother,

If you're reading this some shit hit the fan and I'm either dead or in danger. Don't flip your lid, don't come charging in after me, I need you to keep this box safe and maybe get it to the right people, I'll contact you as soon as I can with details. If you've got a brain in your head like you always seem to, though, you'll figure out the gist.

P.S. - Tell the folks back home I'm hoping to come home soon. Maybe permanently if this score works out, and with friends.

- Laura"

You're about to shut the thing off when it comes to life of its own accord, displaying the logo with the crowned pawn again and making a noise like a headset speaker. On a whim, you speak to it and ask if it's your sister.

"Who is this? How do you know that name?"

(1/2)

>>28374497
You explain your relationship, and the box says something about a matching voiceprint analysis. You ask where she is and what she's doing.

"Not much. She's unconscious, maybe comatose. Not moving around either."

Here's a great bit of news. You stare at the box icily and ask what it had to do with this.

"I'm her employer, and this happened after she undertook an act of insubordination in bringing you this communication device. And then another one probably, in removing some of her tracking gear, so now I have no idea where she is. Still got bio-monitors which suggests it's a medical facility and that she's getting treated for Revelations, as the locals are calling it. One in a hundred, who'd have thought."

You shake your head, confused.

"I can't help you much more here. There's some files on the disk, read them - should be one titled REVELATIONS. There's friends of hers near the communicator's present location, or there were when she left it - maybe they know which way she went. I'll upload some profiles in a few hours, but right now I kind of have some information warfare to engage in. Be watching you, little brother."

And with that, the device shuts off. You restrain another urge to take it apart.

(2/2)

Think I'll end here for the day, guys. Next thread's planned to start at 16:30 unless requests are made to start earlier. Thanks to all of you for playing.

Twitter is @EquityLordQM.

Archive's here if you want to vote:

I'll be answering questions and listening to opinions for a little bit. And opinions are solicited, tell me if it needs work in certain areas. I know some of the writing quality's kinda off, hopefully I've shaken the rust off this time.

>>28374591
Derp, archive link is http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/28363011/

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Equity_Lord will work to display it without also displaying all the old threads, though they're worth reading.

>>28374559
>Not moving around either
Not being moved around either.

Hahahaha, oh wow do I need sleep.