Antediluvixen

Fallout: Under Silver Skies [Closed]

Lilith allowed herself to grin as the sounds of gunfire erupted outside the pub. Something told her that this was no random skirmish, and was in every way linked to the agreement she had just struck. The man, Dallen, had apparently reached a similar conclusion. “In truth, I think a better starting point would have more hookers and booze, but this is probably a close second.”

She unslung her rifle, reflexively flicking off the safety as the rapid onslaught of an apparently coordinated assault reached the pub. The first man to enter went down right away - courtesy of Dallen, and Liltih gave the next two to barge through their own high velocity lobotomies. Lilith ducked behind the counter, hurriedly shoving two rounds through the rifle’s loading gate. “Well this is a right mess you’ve gotten us into.” She yelled over the din, “And yes, it’s your fault! Don’t ask me how but I’ll find a reason in a few hours to berate you for, I’m sure!”

As the outpouring of lead from their enemies showed little signs of letting up, Lilith again found herself wishing she had spent some money on grenades instead of booze.

She threw the rifle’s sling over her shoulder, drawing her pistol instead and joining Dallen in emptying her magazine in the general direction of the enemy. Generally, she preferred medium range firefights.

Risking perforation, she popped up from behind the counter, firing off a flurry of eight shots before the gun ran out of ammunition, she saw with satisfaction that two of their assailants had gone down.

She joined Dallen in interrogating her employer of a few minutes now. “A way out that doesn’t involve death would be amazing right now!” She yelled, sporadically firing off a few shots at their attackers to keep their heads down. “Slavery or imprisonment aren’t options either, for the record!”

Ianus Congreatio: Secret societies, horror, and mystery in the shadows of Prague.

Boom!

Woooooords

Ianus Congreatio: Secret societies, horror, and mystery in the shadows of Prague.

Aleksandra, for her part, was caught flatfooted by the unfolding calamity before her. Much as with Lucie, the hasty attempt at explanation by her fellow Ianus member did little to help. She noted however, with keen interest, the presence of everybody who had departed from the manor earlier that day on their separate missions - as well as the unexpectedly feminine figure of the Master of the House, though any inquiry into that could certainly wait until after their painful deaths were no longer an imminent possibility.

The flare of oil catching fire blinded her for a moment as she struggled to reorient herself back towards the looming threat, fumbling for her revolvers as the creature continued to burn. She had an inkling that she knew the line of thought behind the tactic, though she had little optimism that the flames would do little more than char the beast. Unlike works of fiction, the stitching holding the beast together would have to be of far greater complexity than provided by the kind of thread one might hold a wound closed with. Deeper under the skin, in the muscle, the real meat of the thing, there was a connection, and it mattered little how much they burned the exterior, it was difficult to kill something already dead.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Lucie sprinting off into the foliage, presumably chasing after this “She” who could not be allowed to escape. That was one loose end tied up - she had full confidence in her erstwhile companion’s ability to track down the fleeing woman, but the same could not be said for the outlook with the gigantic creature still wreaking havoc.

She raised the pistol in her right hand, firing off three shots at the creature’s center of mass, all three rounds embedding themselves solidly in the thing’s undead flesh - but the grim satisfaction she normally would have felt at landing a hit never came, instead a sinking feeling filled her with dread as she realized that, just as fire would likely do little to the thing, a bullet would do no more - unless by some miracle she could shut off whatever malevolent, eldritch heart beat inside the abomination’s chest, or at the very least immobilize it.

A metaphorical lightbulb lit up in her mind as she finished the thought - maybe they couldn’t kill it easily, but the creature was made of human parts, surely it had at least some of the same weaknesses? Her mind flashed to the Greek mythology of times long past - the mighty Zeus himself was laid low when Typhon tore out his tendons, perhaps the same might apply here? After all, the thing could hardly chase them down if it couldn’t walk, and just shooting it in the chest wasn’t likely to do much.

Over the din of the struggle, she yelled out to the others, “Aim for the tendons! Maybe we can’t kill it outright, but it’s not as much of a threat if it can’t walk!” She herself took aim, emptying one revolver, two of three shots missing by a hair, but the third embedding itself with a sickening noise in the thing’s calf - without missing a beat she switched to the second, firing slowly but steadily at the thing, doing her best to keep her breathing even.

The revolver clicked as the hammer fell on an empty cylinder, half of her shots having found their marks - though to what effect she knew not, but over the deafening echo of the flurry of shots she heard something far more bone chilling - the beast had turned towards her.

Aleksandra gulped, quickly signing the cross across her chest before throwing her guns back into their holster and bolting for it, screaming desperately in Russian at the others in the clearing, having forgotten to attempt Czech or any other languages. “Shoot it, for God’s sake! Shoot it before it rips my tendons out!”

Nearly stumbling over her feet, she drew her sword as she ran, silently muttering a stream of alternating prayers and curses under her breath. Normally, she might try to climb a tree, but with how things were going tonight, she expected that doing so would lead to the unpleasant discovery that the thing could also rip down trees if it so desired. And, while falling to her death was a more appealing option than getting caught, falling and breaking a leg only to be at the mercy of the thing as it took its time with her…

She contemplated trying to load one round into her gun, just in case she needed to speed things along, but put the thought out of her mind - better to focus on running.

Ianus Congreatio: Secret societies, horror, and mystery in the shadows of Prague.

@Astarael42

Slowly working on something, sorry for the delay. Been in a funk.

Mass Effect: Borealis

@Rtron

Bisch

Nothing but lobster and kobe beef for me

Fallout: Under Silver Skies [Closed]

So should we all pile into a pad or doc, then?

Fallout: Under Silver Skies [Closed]

And posted!

Fallout: Under Silver Skies [Closed]

David looked at Lilith with a surprised expression, "Work? Here?" He looked to Redding and at Zel. "I mean, that depends. What kind of work are you comfortable with?"

Lilith raised an eyebrow at him, "Any kind of work, scavenging, guarding, ruthless bloody murder, or interior design. I'm a budding renaissance in a can in the field of occult brahmin blood wall murals!" She waited expectantly, nodding her head in the direction of the bar's stocks of alcohol and hoping he would take the hint. "Really, as long as it doesn't involve spreading my legs for an obese ghoul with a Ronto accent, I'll do just about whatever you have."

The bartender looked nervous, "Look, don't say the M word here ok?" he looked to Zel for a moment. Then he asked, "What do you want? We serve a mean whiskey."

Zel glanced, to her left, at Lilith, "You do murder for work?" she thought of Big Joe, who had one of his surviving multi-personalities act as a rapist and murderer, "There's people who pay for that?" she leaned forward, with a frantic wide-eyed look. "Are you a rapist?"

"Murder, assassination, housekeeping, y'know. One party wants another party dead so they hire a third party to start a party in the second party's party and add some intestine streamers to the decor." Lilith made a face, "never been a favorite of mine. I'm okay at sneaking around, but never been fond of it." She pointedly ignored the latter question the strung out woman had asked, instead looking over to the bartender, "Thanks for the offer, but I'm not looking for anything too strong tonight. I've got a bit of a gut feeling that being plastered off my ass might be even less healthy than normal. Have any beer, cider? I knew one guy down in... some random town in Baja that made a mean mutfruit cider. Shit was like the nectar of the gods, but with more radiation."

Sighing, she looked back over at Zel, "And ah, no, I'm not much a fan of rape. Or rapists." She paused for a moment, then added brightly, "Except as target practice! They're excellent for that!"

David looked at Lilith with the expression of one who was insulted, "I got some kind of cider..." he looked through his bottles. Cider was a sort of alcohol made from apples, which were rare in non-dandy-appled form. So many bars had come to the practice of calling drinks made out of banana yucca fruit or barrel cactcus "cider". He retrieved a bottle, that actually said BANANA YUCCA, ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE, MADE BY CACTUS JOE. He tore the label off in a surreptitious manner, "Yeah, of course. That's ten caps, by the way."

Zel looked at Lilith, wondering if she were from Zels vault. Would she have to kill Lilith? She imagined herself ripping Liliths throat out then eating it, to gain Liliths strength. But what was her strength? Would she want it?

Lilith shrugged, fishing around in one of the cavernous pockets of her coat for a few caps which she obligingly tossed onto the table. "I saw you pull that label off, for the record." She commented idly as she took the drink, "I'll let it slide if you tell me of any decent work you've heard of in the area."

At that moment Fimion pushed open the swinging doors that lead into the Cracked Glass with a little too much Gusto, causing them to slam into the doorframe either side. He grinned stupidly as several of the patron's eyes went to him and gave a little wave as he made his way directly to the bar where he spotted Redding with several others, not that he paid them much heed. He placed the heavy lockbox on the bar with a thud and started to attempt to pry it open with his fingernails unsuccessfully.

Zel looked at the box, temporarily forgetting the should Zel kill Lilith dilemma. "What's with the box?" She looked at the box, a secret. She wondered what worlds the box contained. Would the box make her happy? She had to know. "What's in the box?" she said, frantically.

Fimion's gaze snapped up at the woman who was addressing him, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he clutched at the lockbox protectively at her somewhat frenzied expression.

Lilith looked over curiously, eyeing the lockbox's sturdy construction. "I don't think you're going to pop that open with your fingers anytime soon. Unless you have a cutting disc hidden in them somewhere." She raised an eyebrow, "Just what's in there?"

Fimion's gaze flicked to this second woman. He hadn't expected questions, but then he hadn't really thought any of this through. "My box?" he asked, trying to sound innocent. "It's where I keep my caps. I just, eh... lost the key". He licked his dry lips, the bitter taste of the jet still lingering. He still didn't like the way the first one was staring at the box longingly.

Zel looked at the box then back to Fimion, "Give me the box." Her eyes were bloodshot, like she'd taken a hit of psycho earlier.

Fimion stared Zel dead in her eyes as his face twisted into a feral snarl, his hand coming to rest on his newly acquired shotgun. There was no way he'd be handing over his box to this bitch. With his other hand he clutched the lockbox closer to his person, gripping it as tightly as he could.

Redding took one last swig from the bottle of whiskey that David had generously provided, setting it down and pushing it away from himself, already sufficiently shit-faced for the occasion. A fuss had started over Fimion's great new box of mystery. Once Fimion's hand touched his gun, he saw Brian's vast form stand up from his chair. Redding spoke first, "Fimion, get your hand off that fucking gun unless you want me to hold you down while Brian cuts it off."

Zel, having the patience of a mayfly, said, "Hey, look, over there, there's a Crocabilly Manfucker!"

Fimion who had been staring at Redding looked back to Zel. He hadn't the slightest idea what a Crocabilly Manfucker was, but without thinking his eyes darted over to where she was pointing, his chem addled brain only realising moments later he'd fallen for the oldest trick in the book.

Zel lurched forward, trying to rip the box from Fimions hands. She added her feet to the occasion, but because she was trying to sit on a barstool this ended with her toppling over, both arms and feet pressed against the box, hopefully pulled towards her.

As Fimion felt the lockbox being pulled from his grasp he frantically clutched onto it with both hands, his gun instantly forgotten as he scrabbled to keep possession of it. As Zel tumbled sideways both the box and a snarling Fimion tumbled after her, the three of them crashing into the barroom floor as they grappled for possession of it.

The cold steel of Redding's .38 nuzzled against the back of Zel's neck and she had enough sense to freeze. Brian took a fistful of Fimion's shirt and hauled him back a few feet, leaving the box in the middle of the two who'd been hissing and spitting like cats over it. Brian shook his big head with Redding, "Fimion, I haven't seen you in weeks and this is how you want your reunion with the Cracked Glass to go? Brian stepping on your head like a grape?" He leaned closer to Zel's ear and felt a static buzzing of instinctual danger he ignored, "And you, don't think just because you make my drugs doesn't mean you're above me blowing open your neck." He leaned back and his voice rose, "We're all friends, right? We're all going to sit and have a quiet fucking discussion about why this box is so goddamned important, yeah?"

Zel cautiously rose to her feet, her eyes never leaving the box. She sat down, her eyes rolling as the box was moved about.

It remained to be noted that David went on with rubbing the insides of each glass with a wash towel while the other patrons mostly went about their business. The Cracked Glass was never a fancy establishment, but it was a hardy one. "I'm sorry your first night in town has to go like this, Miss. I usually try to keep the strays away or in line, at least in the parts of town where my name matters." He smiled warmly, though Lilith could probably tell he was very drunk, "I'd be rude if I didn't ask for a name, I'm Redding Schmidt. I may have some business opportunities, but it isn't the kind you'd think of me. I think you've got talent with that gun of yours. How's it sound to put that talent to work for me? My caps are just as real as any of the Families."

Lilith had already flicked off the safety and begun to draw her own piece, though she was more occupied with stepping out of the way in case things got uglier. She stood aside until the man who had put a stop to the confrontation introduced himself to her as Redding. "Hardly my first night here," she replied cooly, gingerly sitting back down and turning to face him. "Tell me about these 'business opportunities" of yours, if you don't mind. I'm not questioning your money, but I am. And I need to know just who I'm shooting at - it's not generally conducive to one's health to shoot at the henchmen for the Families unless you're doing it for another one of the Families. Or someone bigger."

Redding flashed a wolf's grin, "Hands change every day here." He stood and nodded, "Not long ago, I was a small man out of Fernley with nothing to sell but a trigger-finger. Now, people know me. Business opportunities are as follows- kill the people I send you to kill, kill the people they might send to kill me, get paid. I'm a salesman, of sorts, and my product is a sought-after commodity by the likes of everyone from him and her-" and he thrust a thumb over his shoulder at Zel and Fimion before pointing a finger out at an arbitrary direction, "-to the Dons and Donnas, and the Families out there in the far-off Strip."

Fimion stood with a distraught expression as he watched Redding and this woman chat briefly, his eyes occasionally flicking to his box or to Zel who was still staring hungrily at it. What the fuck was this chick's problem? Not only had she tried to take his shit, but now she'd made Redding pissed at him. He decided there was little point in lying to Redding, after all he usually figured it out sooner rather than later.

He waited a few moments longer with his eyes on Zel before with a defeated look he blurted "Look - I'm sorry Redding... But she tried to take my shit!"

He pointed an accusatory finger at Zel as he continued "I took this box fair and square from the Jungle as my fee. I was just gonna see if maybe you could help me open it s'all. That and see if maybe I could see Francine."

"Francine's dead, Fimion." He turned away from Lillith, wolf's grin falling to a drunkard's grimace, "Maybe one of the other girls. While we're talking as friends, Fimion, what is in that box of yours? I can only guess from your fucking reputation it was got in some way I don't want to know about."

"Oh" replied Fimion glumly, his mind still on Francine as he explained "Some cats came into the Jungle n shot up the management, I decided not to stick around and just saw the lockbox they keep all the caps in jus sittin there. Chems too." he joslted the bulging bag slung over his shoulder as if to verify his story. He looked up from where he had been staring at the ground and asked "How'd she die?"

"Forced overdose. She was a good girl, didn't deserve that." Redding trailed off, sitting back in his stool, "Some people busting in and shooting up the Jungle Gym? Fiends?"

Fimion shrugged as he scratched at his arm. "It's not like I stuck around to ask questions."

Lilith had stood to the side, watching ambivalently. She took the chance to inject herself back into the conversation, tapping Redding on the shoulder to remind him of her presence. "Sounds like we have a deal, then." She walked over to where she had left her drink on the bar, taking a generous gulp of its contents. "So, just tell me where to start."

Fallout: Under Silver Skies [Closed]

If nobody else wants to add anything I'll go ahead and throw the post up

Fallout: Under Silver Skies [Closed]

@Tsar Gatto

Oh crap I forgot to check the pad, sorry

I'll go throw a response in if it's appropriate and post it up then?