SirBeowulf

Hailstorm

Eh, we made up for that with a big post. WITH STUFF. AND THINGS. AND CONFLICT.

Hailstorm

"So how's that cane treating you?" asked Jones as he kept up a brisk pace, feet crunching on the inches of snow beneath his feet. The temperature was only in the low thirties, but he still felt cold. Just knowing that there would be three months of this was enough to send a shiver down his spine. The only saving grace was that the snow wasn't thick enough to impede their carts. "And tell me if you need to slow down. We've got all day to make it around the Legus Hail Zone." Arthur turned his head as the leader of the caravan spoke to him, "Oh, it's wonderful. Thank you once again, Mr. Jones. It's much better than that old thing I found years ago. I think I"ll be fine. My leg isn't bothering me too much today, so full sped ahead then." His breath came out in clouds as the cold air seemed to close in on him from all sides. He wasn't a fan of the winters at all now that he had a metal leg to worry about freezing the skin it was connected to, but luckily it hadn't started to bother him. "Great," Jones said as he grinned widely. "I'm just glad to get out of that damn con factory they call Laketon." He stretched his arms, placing them behind his head as he walked. "Can you believe they taxed me for having more than three 'vehicles'?" He looked back at his caravan, chuckling. "Shopping carts count as vehicles nowadays. All because they have the only bridge for miles... Bah." "Oh, I believe it, Mr. Jones. If I hadn't smuggled my medical supplies past the guards, they would have taxed me like no one's business and then would have made me treat the whole damn town just to get it. They would have still made pay for my room of course..." "Y'know, we could probably hollow out that leg of yours. I'm not saying I'm a smuggler, but that'd probably be a good trick. I mean, come on. Who's gonna rip a leg off someone to check for contraband?" He scratched the back of his head. "Not that I would or anything. You probably need whatever mechanical gadgets that are in that thing." Arthur chuckled at Jones's suggestion of hollowing his leg out, "Yes, I think I do. Though, your idea has potential. Perhaps we could hollow out my new cane instead?" He shrugged, kicking a tin can out of his way. "Nah, that can of yours is too thin to hold anything significant. Sure, if you were a courier or sending messages, you could probably drill a good hole in it. Other than that, not really worth it. Besides, then you wouldn't be able to hit anything with it." "I don't think I'll hit anything with it anyway, Mr. Jones. I'm not a man built for fighting." Jones winked slightly. "And neither am I, I'm about as good in combat as a man with n-" "Jones! Hey, Jones!" Catherine shouted, running back towards the group after having been previously scouting ahead, a pair of binoculars hanging around her neck. "I found something ahead," she said, marginally out of breath from the run. "Quiet, Cath. We don't wanna attract any Lost in the vicinity with all your screeching. What did you find? Bandits? Cannibals? A hidden oasis in the midst of a desert?" "All at once! Sort of. I found a gas station on the road ahead and through the windows I saw a bunch of signs of someone having been camping. Unfortunately, the campers now would rather eat us than share their food with us, but there's probably good scavenge in there," Catherine replied. Jones stopped, holding up a hand for the caravan to do so as well. Arthur stopped next to Jones, resting his weight on his new cane. "How many of them? Three? Four?" "If there were only three I'd've taken them out myself," Catherine bragged. "There's about a good six or seven just milling about the place that I saw, and maybe one or two more hiding inside at best. Nothing a few guys with guns, and myself, couldn't handle." Jones fondled the makings of a beard that was growing on his face as he thought it over. "Hans, Mico, Jeremy! Get over here, real quick!" "Mr. Jones, if they were camping then there's a good chance they had medical supplies too. I'd like to go along to see if they did and to evaluate them." "Jumping right into danger, are you?" He snorted as the three men soon showed up, standing at a decent attention. Two of them, Hans and Mico, were guards Jones had hired. Only temporary for the most part. Jeremy was the young man with the hunting rifle. Damn good shot, as Jones knew from experience. "Right," he said, turning to the group. "The rest of you, set up to rest for an hour or two. Pick whatever building looks best." They quickly pushed the carts onto the side of the road, letting out sighs of relief for a rest. Hans grinned slightly. The man had the closest thing to an automatic weapon that existed. A semi-automatic 5.57mm rifle that packed a punch. Ammo was rare as shit, but the man used it well. The other one, Mico, wielded a feisty looking sledgehammer that had a spike welded on the top. "Think they're enough to do the job? Myself included, of course. I'm really only gonna be there for his sake," he said, pointing at Arthur. The man in question raised his eyebrow slightly at the caravan leader. "That should be fine, if you two are good shots," Catherine said, directing her sentence at the men with the rifles. "Otherwise, just try not to hit me, yeah?" Hans looked at her with a bit of a glare. "Yeah, yah. You Burdened are supposed to be bullet proof anyways." "If only that were true, it'd save me a lot of trouble," Catherine muttered as she started jogging on down the road toward the gas station. "It's about half a mile down the road, c'mon." As the three other men jogged after Catherine, Jones looked at Arthur. "You up for going at a faster pace? Or am I gonna have to carry you?" he said with a smirk. "I'll be fine, thank you. Plus, if I go at a slower pace than them maybe there won't be any Lost left by the time we get there," Arthur said as he began walking a fast pace for him, leaning heavily on his new cane. "Aww, but that'd be a little bit boring," Jones said, even though he agreed with the man fully. Meanwhile, Catherine and the other three men took position behind a broken wreck of a car that was sideways on the road about a block away from the gas station. True to Catherine's word, the gas station seemed to have a few lost stumbling about outside and if one were to look through the windows they could see a few inside as well. "Do you have a plan?" Hans said. Catherine just awkwardly scratched the back of her neck. "I know enough to know that I don't know enough to make a good plan," she replied, getting a bewildered look from the man. Arthur limped his way to the gas station, arriving some minutes later after the vanguard. At the moment, Catherine was looking down the road with her binoculars, making sure that they wouldn't get surprised by more Lost. He looked around at them and then to the gas station to see the Lost shambling around outside and within. "Wanna look?" Catherine asked, tossing the binoculars to Arthur. He snatched the binoculars from the air, pushed his glasses up onto his forehead and then looked down the road and at the surrounding area, checking for anyone else on the road. He then focused on the gas station to see if he could see into the window. Jeremy stumbled with his words for a minute before pulling out a handful of cherry bombs and firecrackers. "You know, we could probably use these to distract or pull them out of the station. I don't mind using them." Dropping the binoculars from his eyes, Arthur looked at the boy, "That's a good idea. The ones with the long range rifles should stay here behind the cars and pick off the Lost they can see while the close range fighters move in around the side or back while the firecrackers and cherry bombs do their job." Jones grinned slightly as he borrowed a few of the fire crackers from Jeremy. Pulling out a steel lighter, he flicked it open, ready to toss at any moment. "Knowing the strength of thse cherry bombs, you could probably explode a Lost's head with one if you got lucky. Weren't there stories of kids who had their hands blown up?" "Don't know, don't care. Let's go already," Catherine replied impatiently, as she started sneaking off down the road, staying to the side away from the gas station. Mico gave a confused look for a second, before shrugging and following her. Hans propped his gun up over the hood of the car, waiting for the go-ahead to start shooting. "Whenever you're ready, Mr. Jones," Arthur said with a smirk. Jones rumbled with a growl as he flicked the lighter repeatedly, the fire refusing to start. "Damn it, I knew I should've picked one up at the t- oh, nevermind." He looked up over the car to see Catherine and Mico getting into position. Catherine at this point was hiding with Mico behind another car further ahead, ready to engage the Lost as they would run past them. Catherine waved back at Jones and gave a thumbs-up. The lighter lit the cherry bombs as Jones stood up, preparing to throw as hard as he could, grinning slightly. A gunshot rang out. Jones' flinched as the head of one of the Lost exploded, raining glittering parts over its comrades as they went into a rage suddenly. He fumbled with the firecracker as more gunshots starting ringing out, the Lost getting shot down quickly and effectively from somewhere other than their position. "What the fuck!?" Catherine shouted, getting drowned out by the gunfire. She was expecting gunfire, but not this soon and it was coming from the wrong direction! She popped her head over the car and saw the Lost running away from her as they were systematically getting cut down. She pulled out her revolver and aimed it in the direction of the gunshots, since she didn't quite plan on running forward and punching people with guns. "Shit, shit, shit, shit!" Jones groaned as the fuse still burned. He looked around frantically before finally sticking the thing in his mouth to extinguish it, wincing again as it burned his tongue. Arthur turned from watching the Lost being shot down to look at Jones as he winced from burning himself on the cherry bomb. "Where the hell are those shots coming from!?" Jones pulled the cherry bomb's fuse out, sticking his tongue out from the pain. "Across from us, shit oww that fucking hurt, I think a hundred meters away. I can't see. Use those binos, oww." Whether it was a stray bullet or intentionally aimed wasn't clear, but as Catherine was trying to see where the shooting was coming from a bullet richoeted off the car hood she was hiding behind, creating a loud scraping noise and just barely grazing past Catherine's head, close enough for her to feel it and to snap her hood back off her head. "Shit!" she swore loudly, ducking back down for cover and rubbing the burn on her head. Arthur pulled the binoculars back up and looked in the direction Jones had indicated and scanned the area before finally spotting a group of rather heavily armed individuals. DERB. A whole squad of them counting ten all armed and armored. Behind them was a large van turned sideways, with the DERB sigil plastered on the side. Soon enough, the whole Lost population had been killed, either lying on the ground with broken limbs or destroyed skulls. A megaphone was pulled out, and a man spoke. "Throw down your weapons and come out with your hands up!"

Hailstorm

I await thee splendid aura of greatness, good fellow! Hop on the pad when you're ready, I'll be checking it every so often, and if I see you I'll say something and be more attentive and then you'll see it and it'll all work out.

Colonial

Uponhill, not Townhill =p The only things I think you need to add are the name of the city he slummed in, and a reason why he has a Slavic name. If the former is the capitol, you might want to ask Aaron what the capitol of Tirna-Sorset is called. And with the latter, just say he immigrated from a foreign place and give the place a Slavic sounding name.

@Vilageidiotx

Upon? Town? Basically the same thing. As for his name, whoops. I added some stuff in to explain it. Oi, Aaron. What's the name of the capitol? TELL ME.

Colonial

Pilsky Yakovitch, Sandwich Thief.

Name:

Pilsky Yakovitch.

Description:

According to the ruling class of Tirna-Sorset, Pilsky is nothing more than another rat clogging up their sewers, and at first glance that might be true. Like any other slum dweller, appearance is not one of the main things one tries to improve. Usually food and shelter are of more importance. Still, beneath the dirt and grime, one might think of Pilsky as a rather handsome man of twenty years. He's a rather short fellow, just barely topping at an average height of five feet, ten inches. Sloppy brown hair in need of a good wash, but a surprising set of hazel eyes that get all of the ladies. Not much body weight on him though. Hunger tends to do that a lot. Of course, being used to going hungry all his life gave him the better edge once winter came around. That and a hidden stash of stolen food tends to help.

Background:

When given a chance to throw it all behind him, Pilsky jumped on the chance faster than you could call Aenda a bad ruler. Who wouldn't? The benefits given to him were certainly worth it all. Free land as far as the eye could see, extremely fertile soil, and a bunch of natives who would gladly give up their women. That and a free ticket out of the prisons was a big plus. To a man who had lived all of his life in the cramped slums of the capital, throwing a chance like that away would have been suicide. Or a surefire way to not die of starvation and exposure to the elements. Instead of tight, cramped slums where you at least had a few feet to breath, now he had been subjected boat ride over with no bed and the only solace being that he had already thrown up his meal hours earlier. It was a helluva few weeks, that. Growing up in those slums, sure it was hard, but it was the only thing he knew. Mother was a whore, father was a drunkard emigrated from an country named Gornska to the East looking for work. Stealing came easy to him at least. With no craftsman or metal smith to apprentice under, all he knew was self taught or learned from a father in his few sober moments. His work consisted of shining shoes or being hired for barely anything at textiles or workshops. His only experience with anything in the water were sitting at the docks, watching the boats enter and leave the ports. That and chopping fish. His other job was being in a roving band of young men. Your average gang that played at being big, but never did anything than getting in scuffles and territory disputes. It was there he learned how to fight and how to use a knife. Hell, he even had a girl he liked. Pretty lass who was in a work house. Probably only liked him for his money. Then he made the mistake of trying to steal from the rich. A lower noble, but a noble none the less should have been a good target for his gang. It turns out well trained, well fed guards who wielded swords were more than a match for a bunch of rats with chipped daggers and thin stomachs. Turns out said noble was being rather generous, and gave them a choice. Either be locked away in the prisons or take his place on a ship sent to start a colony. It turned out to be pretty stupid of Pilsky to say yes. After gathering up the measly sums he had saved over the years, saying goodbye to his friends, and giving a kiss to that pretty lass, he was given a set of papers he couldn't read, thrown onto a boat, and sent off to new lands. Pilsky quickly realized how different it was to the slums. Having never held a hoe or a shovel, no hammer or nail, nor even owned a chicken or a goat, it was difficult. His hands bled from the blisters, his skin cracked and peeled from the sun, and his bones ached from the work. His first 'shelter' broke down within' a week. Hell, he even managed to get the effects of poison ivy down his breeches whilst doing the you know what. It wasn't a pretty sight at all. And while the winters back home were something, it was even worse in Uponhill. Like most, his living conditions weren't the greatest. Combining poor construction and little idea of how much fire wood needed led to a miserable and hungry season.

Hope its good enough. I'm kind of sick right now, so tell me if I blundered anything.

Hailstorm

Wah. My feels. I'm so sad. ;__; Anyway, you up for some posting, Ink? Any time this weekend can work.

Colonial

So are we waiting for anything in particular? We could just stay silent. I like silence.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Sho! Thou and I are destined to battle! Forsooth! I hath created the arena in which we shall engage in manly combat. https://titanpad.com/RWBYShoBeo

Hailstorm

Yeah, just carry on. I should be back in a day or two.

@The Red Zephyr

Yeeaaaahh... We'll do that. Keep on doing what we're doing. Which amounts to nothing.

Colonial

Rare-sempai! Its been a long while! Sorry Division never went the way you wanted it to. I felt bad about it during the time 'cause my computer would not work at all. Hopefully this one will be one of those that last. As for talking about the actual rp, more questions. We're probably going to be getting a lot more information like stocks of supplies, what exactly has happened thus far, or more information about the natives. What I was wondering is what kind of characters we're allowed to make. Since they have to have been imprisoned for some kind of crime, at least according to Aenda, what kind do you want? I was thinking either a young noble from a rising family who were tossed into the jails to stop any sort of rise against Aenda. That or a sandwich thief.