Dragonbud

Fallout: Den of Thieves (Full)

Rocket shifted awkwardly on her feet, suddenly feeling a lot more self conscience about her tremors. She expected to be outright rejected, a lot of the more put together groups didn't accept anyone with any sort of addiction, not like she was addicted to hydra or anything. She had convinced herself she was just feeling the symptoms of not using hydra for a long time, but there was no way she was addicted. Rocket couldn't help but feel like the man with the sunglasses was looking her over, no doubt seeing what was wrong with her. But instead of laughing her off she saw his expression change. He looked sympathetic. Under normal circumstances she would punch the guy in the nose for trying to play the sympathy card, but for some reason she felt like she needed this job.

And once he took off the sunglasses she looked away, feeling nervous under his sharp gaze. She twiddled her thumbs, feeling the need to move her hands. He motioned for her to sit down and after a few moments of deliberation she accepted the chair across the table from him. And then he ordered a water, perhaps for her. She considered offering him a thank you, but found the words got stuck in her throat. And he asked for her name. She struggled to speak for a moment and then coughed.

"Uh Ro-" she stopped herself, the guy didn't want to hear her silly nickname. If he was to be an employer she had to have some sort of a professional look. "Uh...I'm Alex."

Oh man he asked her about what she had been doing before. She couldn't just tell a stranger that she was once a member of an illegal fighting ring, but she had no idea how to word it to make it sound better.

"Um...I've uh...done a lot of fighting..." She lifted up her wrapped knuckles. "I punched a lot of things..." She looked like she was struggling. "And I...uh...figured I could do some more productive fighting..."

Fallout: Den of Thieves (Full)

Rocket looked up at the board, which looked like a place that someone would have posted upcoming events in town if there was still events and town organization to utilize such a system. Rocket hadn't been in this particular town for very long, she had been spending her time digging through junk and dead wastelanders, trying to find enough to buy herself another dose of hydra. It took awhile, but she finally thought she had enough, now the problem of finding a seller came along. She had heard from a passing ranger that Mexico City was full of crime and grime, as if he was trying to deter the girl from going there. And while looking for a seller she had come across this message board. She attempted to read one of the pieces of paper, but the wind and sun in her eyes as well as the side effects of withdrawal was making it hard to focus on the flapping piece of paper.

With a growl she grabbed one of the notices, tearing it down with enough force to also tear out a chunk of the dried cork that supported the board. Rocket took a deep breath, trying to steady her skating hands long enough to read what the message even said. A mercenary group? And then something about getting caps and food and family or something. That sounded like something she could get into, she missed fighting. She held the paper in her trembling hands. She was told to meet at the Swooning Cazador, which she thought was a stupid name. Cazadors don't swoon. Regardless she navigated herself there, only getting lost a handful of times.

She stood outside the building, internally commenting on how broken down it looked, and then looked to the paper in her hands. This was the place. She walked through the flap of cloth which attempted to pass as a door. Going from the bright of the wastes to the dark interior of the bar gave Rocket a headache, her vision swimming for a moment before she could adjust. It had been too long since she last had a hydra, and she was feeling it. The worst part was her lack of endurance, which might hinder her ability to get into the mercenary group. Regardless she scanned the patrons of the bar, it didn't take long to find this Jacobson person. He was sitting by himself with a stack of similar papers.

Taking another deep breath, hoping to steady her shaking hands, Rocket made her way over to Jacobson. She swallowed, she felt herself breaking out into a cold sweat, but regardless tried to keep herself together.

"You're...uh...Jacobson right? I'm...uh...here to apply."

They Dwell Below

I'm still here as well. I just figured I would wait until a break in the action to throw Alex at you guys

Fallout: Den of Thieves (Full)

Just going to put this here...

@Saarebas

this is wicked catchy

They Dwell Below

Man Len, keep up that language and Alex is going to be learning swears.

(she thinks len is so cool already)

Fallout: Den of Thieves (Full)

Okay, I gave my girl a knife

Fallout: Den of Thieves (Full)

Rocket

Name: Alex aka "Rocket"

Race: Human

Age: Seventeen

Physical Description:

Bio: For as long as Rocket could remember she was fighting with her fists. She was always punching, wether it be fore the best scraps of food or to teach someone a lesion about messing with her. Her father always joked that she even came out of the womb punching at the air. The young and horribly reckless Rocket decided to turn this skill into a livelihood. She left home at fifteen to go and become a 'professional' fighter. It was more like joining an illegal and underground fighting ring with men and women twice her age, but she fit in well. She would get herself tossed in the ring, beat the snot out of whoever was in front of her and then took all the prizes.

But like any young "celebrity" this fame began to go to her head. After loosing a few fights her sponsors threatened to pull out if she didn't toughen up. She found her next mistake in a chem called Hydra. Rocket didn't know what the stuff was made out of, or even what it did specifically but one day it was offered to her. The greasy, and clearly high, fighter promised her that it would make her arms and legs feel even stronger. It would reduce crippling.

And boy it sure did.

Rocket was back to her fist swinging self, always drinking a hydra before entering the ring and slowly, as well as being unaware, her caps began to dwindle. And one day, right before a fight, Rocket discovered she was completely out of hydra. She returned to the fighter who got her hooked, desperate and begging for another dose, only to have him laugh his way to the slot machines. The results of the withdrawal were pretty crippling. She constantly has blown out pupils and sweats as well as shaky hands and a shortness of breath. So for awhile Rocket has been wandering Mexico City, trying to salvage through rubble to find anything that might make her enough caps for some more hydra.

Rocket discovered a flyer, recruiting people for who knows what. Rocket didn't care about what she was being hired for, but caps and food sounded nice. And hey, family was pretty good too.

Weapon of Choice: Rocket is all fists all the time. She has several pairs of unarmed weapons, spiked knuckles and brass knuckles, depending on the occasion. She also has a combat knife on her, but rarely uses it. She also has limited knowledge on guns, but only as far as loading and pulling the trigger.

Armor: Rocket wears Merc Explorers Armor, which she stripped off a rotting corpse. It's good, light, armor that still allows her to move her arms and legs. She also wears a headscarf that covers her head and neck from the sun.

Fallout: Den of Thieves (Full)

I had posted interest in this thread a while back, but never got around to posting again because I got busy. Do you guys have room for one more?

They Dwell Below

Alex had kept herself hidden, following after the group of three survivors until they entered the grain silo. She watched in silence as the three made their way up the ladder. The girl shivered again, wrapping her arms around her shaking torso. It had begun to rain again, which was nice because it masked her footsteps, but she was terribly cold. She made her way into the silo, not yet climbing the ladder herself. She listened to their conversation, briefly questioning why she hadn't left. Maybe she wanted to find herself a group, but knew her social skills and stubbornness wouldn't let her admit defeat.

And yet it was nice to be out of the rain. The bottom floor of the silo was damp and smelly, and Alex knew it would have been dryer in the upper levels, and yet she settled herself down onto the ground. And like a dog begging for table scraps Alex hoped they would accidentally drop crumbs off their ladder and into her lap.

She shivered again, her gnawing stomach making it hard to focus on anything other then food. She was have to wait until the weather got nicer, as well as the sun came up, to try and find her next meal. Her thoughts were interrupted by a new voice, approaching the silo. Alex backed herself into the farthest edge of the silo, blending well into the dark corner. She held her breath as the man climbed up the ladder, cross bow in hand. She tried to control her breathing as she listened to the man threaten them.

She hugged her combat knife to her chest, like a child holding a doll, and waited for the danger to pass.

They Dwell Below

<Snipped quote by Dragonbud>

Great to know you are still here--just in future, if you can, try to let us know you won't be able to post--that way we won't assume you just dropped out or lost interest! thanks :)

@LoneSilverWolf

Heh...yeah sorry about that. I thought I would have time to inform you guys but then I was without Internet.