The Whacko

Fallout: The Long Haul (ALWAYS OPEN TO NEW PLAYERS)

Posted, if anyone missed it.

Fallout: The Long Haul (ALWAYS OPEN TO NEW PLAYERS)

The hookers were the first thing that Del noticed when he stepped onto The Strip. They were better-fed now, and they were starting to look like normal people again after the chem-hooks has gone the way of the cat. Cachino was certainly doing a good job of improving the Omerta's image. Under normal circumstances, Del might have given them a faint smile and a pat on the ass as he walked past them toward the Lucky 38, but he was all business now. Mr. House wasn't a man known for his patience when he needed something done, or his tolerance for people denying his invitiations for an audience. Not that he thought this would be an audience. It would probably just be dealing through his lieutenants or that robot wife of his...at least he thought it was supposed to be a wife or...whatever.

Truthfully he'd never even set foot on the steps of the Lucky 38, but he found it...underwhelming for some reason. He didn't dwell on the disapointment as he made his way up to the doors, pushing them open to reveal all that oh-so-impressive pre-war splendor. He couldn't surpress the sharp whistle as he took in the room, wondering just how much money House had put into keeping this place running for over 200 years, and looking pretty damn good at that. But there'd be other times to gawk at the pretty lights and slots. He was supposed to be here for a job, and he aimed to find out what it was. He called the elevator with a single button-push and waited, tapping his foot absently. As he expected, that elevator made a damn impressive time of it. He only had to wait for a few seconds before it came down to the bottom floor.

When the elevator opened up on the Penthouse floor, he was greeted to a rather...odd sight. There were three men in there already. Two looked like regular wastelanders, while the third was an NCR trooper, uniform and everything. One of the wastelanders was throwing a grenade toward the trooper, though, thank Christ, it wasn't live. Still, he made sure to take a few steps away from the elevator just in face.

"So....look like dis is gon' be an in'er'es'in' little job interview..." He muttered to nobody in particular.

Fallout: The Long Haul (ALWAYS OPEN TO NEW PLAYERS)

Dinh AaronMk said
I can certainly read it in the long drawl. So long as it reads at time like a intermingling of French and the southern accent. I'll give a sample in The next step would be to get someone from the region to critique, in the same way I got a couple people from New England to critique my Boston dialect.

Ah, good to know. Was going for the sort of backwoods Cajun dialect myself. Not New Orleans, mean like the folk you'd see living near the Atchafalaya Basin (More than likely misspelled). Or like those dudes on Swamp People.

Fallout: The Long Haul (ALWAYS OPEN TO NEW PLAYERS)

So, Dihn, think the Cajun accent's been paid proper respect so far? Or have I made it into a terrible, terrible abomination?

Snowed In

"Hello? Anyone around?" Odie called out again as he made his way down the hall, looking just a little bit concerned now as he noticed a distinct lack of people. He really, really didn't want to be stuck here for the night all alone. He was a social man, even if most of his socializing was done with tiny models of green musclebound aliens fighting evil mutant supersoldiers or with his necromancer fighting with the weirdly mixed party while the gamemaster weaved his schemes.

He stopped when he heard female voices speaking from one of the nearby rooms, and saw a familiar face boarding down the hall. He still looked like a total punk, even in winter clothes. But he remembered that it was part of the Good Lord's will not to judge, and quashed those negative thoughts quickly. He aproached slowly, adjusting his Browning hat a bit as came up behind Walker.

"Heya, hoss. Was startin' to think I was the only one left here." A thick Texas drawl, instantly recognizable in this school.

Fallout: The Long Haul (ALWAYS OPEN TO NEW PLAYERS)

Sovi3t said
Soz about the short post , I got some other things to attend to at the moment.

...were you accepted, man?

Fallout: The Long Haul (ALWAYS OPEN TO NEW PLAYERS)

Del was awoken from his sleep rather rudely by a calloused hand nudging his shoulder. He was up faster than the kid could react, and in a flash of dirty steel his knife was at the thin, tender flesh of the intruder's neck. The Cajun's eyes were narrowed dangerously, but it took him a moment for them to focus enough to get a good look at the man that had woken him up. It was definitely just a kid, probably just about 17, dressed in a dirty blue pinstripe suit and fedora, like those gangers in New Reno used to wear back before the Chosen One had set things straight there. The kid was looking just about ready to piss himself as Del held the knife steadily against his throat, drawing just the faintest little drop of blood.

"Where de'hell you come from, boy?" He growled in a sleepy, but still very intimidating tone. At least he thought it sounded intimidating. The kid straightened up a bit as he remembered why he was there, but it still took him a few seconds to get enough courage together to speak up.

"Mr..Mr. House wants to speak with you Mr. Dela....Dela...Delacro...Delacra..." He had no freaking clue had to speak a proper French name. Del sighed and pulled the knife back, setting it aside on a half-broken dresser.

"Delacroix. Ya pronounce it Delacroix." He made sure to spell out every syllable. He didn't want to have to go over it again. Then the kid's words registered. "Wait, House? De'hell's House wan' wit' me?" House had never offered him any work when he'd passed through the Mojave last time. He'd always let his Securitrons handle his work. That meant this kid had to be an Omerta or a Chairman. He was hoping it was the later. Even if the Omertas were under new management, some redemption case named Cachino or something, he still wouldn't trust them with a can of pork and beans.

"He..didn't say. I think it's about a job. Bunch of fancy-pants types showed up and started talking about...hell I don't know." The kid said, doing his best to keep his composure after the knife, touching the tiny knick on his neck gingerly.

"Don' be a fuckin' pussy. It's jus' a lil' scratch." Del growled again, grumbling and reaching for his shirt. It looked like he was going to be getting up a little earlier than he'd expected today. The kid just nodded again.

"He wants to you meet up with the clients or whoever the shit they are on The Strip. Supposed to be huge." Del nodded, still grumbling in a mix of a English and the increasingly rare Cajun French as he tugged on his boots.

"Right, den. Ya tell 'em I'm gon' be there soon as I can. Ain' gon' be long. Need t'take care'a some bui'ness'a mine here real quick." The kid nodded more vigorously this time, looking as if he were just waiting for any excuse to leave. He probably figured that he was going to get shanked if he stayed too long in Westside. Not all that crazy a thought. Del just waved him off absently, reaching over to a half-empty bottle of beer and taking a long drink before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Righ' den...talk wit' Stella...den go an' see wha' House got fo' me." Forty minutes later, he was off towards the Lucky 38. Whatever it was, it had to be tricky if House needed help...

Snowed In

"Well....hell." Was the first thing out of Odie McCraken's mouth as he took a look outside of the window. He still hadn't gotten used to a proper winter. He'd only been outside of Texas for two years now, and it still amazed him just how much snow could pile up in a day up North. Yep. He was trapped, along with everyone else still here. He'd just gotten the weather warning from his phone a few minutes ago, and he'd done his best not to swear when he read the message.

Thankfully he'd been able to shower after football practice. At least now he wouldn't be a pain everyone's noses when he inevitably got around to finding whoever else was here. The question, however, was what they would actually do when they met up. They probably wouldn't be able to call for help, with the phone signals and internet being more than likely down for the duration of the storm. He'd worry about it later, though. For now it would probably be best to go and see if he couldn't find the others. A whole bunch of brains together was better than one nerdy 2nd string tackle's.

With a heavy sigh he adjusted his denim sheepskin-lined jacket and started out toward the hallway, calling out to anyone left inside the building.

"Hello! Anyone still around?"

Snowed in

ramblingbard said
I want to ask this - and I meant to do it earlier - but does anyone not want to be friends with Harper? She is kind of a social butterfly and likes to know pretty much everyone. Do people feel like there's no chance Harper and their character would be acquantinces? Anyone want to actually be friends? And she may have a crush on a boy or two... just saying...

Odie'd be happy to her friend. :)

Fallout: The Long Haul (ALWAYS OPEN TO NEW PLAYERS)

Well...my intro was crap.