@Tuxedo Fox no problem. I get similar feelings myself. You write something but it just doesn't seem...right. Good enough.
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@Tuxedo FoxI'm new to the site...but not RPing. If you want me to perhaps give you some feedback on your posts, I'd would be happy to. As far as I can see, you're already pretty good.
@Ordure Just a quick suggestion: In French, the military honorific "sir" is "Chef"."Monsieur" Is closer to "Mister". So "Sir, yes sir" is "Oui, chef!"
@Ordure"En effet, j'ai fait mes recherches. Il faut connaitre avant de voyager." (Yes, I did my research. You have to know before you travel.) That wasn't quite true; The External Security Bureau had installed a small cranial implant in his skull that allowed him to learn French at an accelerated rate.
"...wait, a little east of the peninsula? Excuse-moi for a moment." Carson leaned against one of the Trading Post's clean walls as the officer-captain? Dispatched a squad of troopers off to the east, where distant pop pop pop's showed that the Marauders were still shooting.
Carson hoped Art Hartmann was all right.
"... more like an offer." The officer went on as he led Carson to a large, imposing building.
"Yes," answered the Enclave major, dropping back into English. "Word of the Order travels far. I heard that they pay good caps for a steady gun arm. We were going to offer our services anyway before those bastards jumped us." He stopped for a moment, surprised at the opulent interior of the building. Taking the offered seat, he sighed in relief as a shiny Mister Handy jabbed a stimpak into the flesh of his upper arm.
"Make yourself at home." The dark-skinned officer said. The robot laid a meal out for the two men, pouring glasses of wine. Carson took a drink, relaxing slightly. He sampled the meal.
"A fine spread." He complimented, taking another pull of the wine. The Mister Handy began a playback of "Spring", a piece of music from a Pre-War composer. Carson said little for the next couple of minutes, eating steadily.
After clearing his plate, he leaned back. "Thank you. I needed that, and no mistake." He paused. "Word also travels about the...problems the Order has been experiencing. I hear of a Revolution in the underbelly of Orleans. Is it true?" One of Carson's main objectives was to evaluate the severity of the populist insurgency in the region. Hopefully by signing on with the King's men he could get a close look.
He took a thick cigar from the waterproof pocket of his greatcoat. "Do you mind if I smoke?" He asked.
"...wait, a little east of the peninsula? Excuse-moi for a moment." Carson leaned against one of the Trading Post's clean walls as the officer-captain? Dispatched a squad of troopers off to the east, where distant pop pop pop's showed that the Marauders were still shooting.
Carson hoped Art Hartmann was all right.
"... more like an offer." The officer went on as he led Carson to a large, imposing building.
"Yes," answered the Enclave major, dropping back into English. "Word of the Order travels far. I heard that they pay good caps for a steady gun arm. We were going to offer our services anyway before those bastards jumped us." He stopped for a moment, surprised at the opulent interior of the building. Taking the offered seat, he sighed in relief as a shiny Mister Handy jabbed a stimpak into the flesh of his upper arm.
"Make yourself at home." The dark-skinned officer said. The robot laid a meal out for the two men, pouring glasses of wine. Carson took a drink, relaxing slightly. He sampled the meal.
"A fine spread." He complimented, taking another pull of the wine. The Mister Handy began a playback of "Spring", a piece of music from a Pre-War composer. Carson said little for the next couple of minutes, eating steadily.
After clearing his plate, he leaned back. "Thank you. I needed that, and no mistake." He paused. "Word also travels about the...problems the Order has been experiencing. I hear of a Revolution in the underbelly of Orleans. Is it true?" One of Carson's main objectives was to evaluate the severity of the populist insurgency in the region. Hopefully by signing on with the King's men he could get a close look.
He took a thick cigar from the waterproof pocket of his greatcoat. "Do you mind if I smoke?" He asked.
Besides, I don't intend to for Carson to speak only French for long. No doubt he will adapt and speak half-English, half French.
Will do. You've done fine so far.
If anyone needs help translating, I am fluent.
@OrdureI really like how the people of Orleans speak half French half English. Makes it feel legit.
@Ordure
"Ami! Ami! Ne tirez pas!" Carson held up a hand as a squad of red-coated soldiers pointed their weapons at him. He showed his hands, slowly. Their leader, a dark-skinned young man with intelligent eyes, stepped forward and scrutinised Carson for a long moment. Carson watched him back.
"Il est bon." Their leader said at last, and his soldiers dispersed. After offering him medical assistance and even a hot meal the fellow walked off. Carson followed, heading into the trading post. He was impressed by what he saw; the fine marble buildings and ordered streets made a welcome change from the shanties of DC or the rough and ready frontier towns in the Mojave. Carson limped past an old Pre-War barge that had come in from the river as a Synth bureaucrat laid out docking regulations. Carson limped a little faster to catch up with the Order officer.
"Les pirates attaquent souvent si proche de vos cotes?" (The pirates often attack so close to your coast?)
Carson was glad he had taken the time to learn the language of Orleans before setting out.
"Les pirates qui nous ont tendu un piege sont sur vos terres en ce moment meme. Un peu a l'est de ce peninsule." (The pirates who set a trap for us are on your land at this very moment. A little east of the peninsula.)
Carson slowed again, not wanting to push his wounded leg any more than he had to.
"Et si vous me le permettez, j'ai une autre question." (And if you don't mind, I have another question.) Carson hesitated as the officer led him through another crowd of people bargaining their wares in a small market. He filed away everything he saw- people, prices, architecture- for the ESB.
"Je suis un veteran de nombreux conflits a travers ce maudit continent-je pourrais vous être utile pour le bon prix." (I am a veteran of numerous conflicts across this accursed continent-I could be useful to you for the right price.)
"Ami! Ami! Ne tirez pas!" Carson held up a hand as a squad of red-coated soldiers pointed their weapons at him. He showed his hands, slowly. Their leader, a dark-skinned young man with intelligent eyes, stepped forward and scrutinised Carson for a long moment. Carson watched him back.
"Il est bon." Their leader said at last, and his soldiers dispersed. After offering him medical assistance and even a hot meal the fellow walked off. Carson followed, heading into the trading post. He was impressed by what he saw; the fine marble buildings and ordered streets made a welcome change from the shanties of DC or the rough and ready frontier towns in the Mojave. Carson limped past an old Pre-War barge that had come in from the river as a Synth bureaucrat laid out docking regulations. Carson limped a little faster to catch up with the Order officer.
"Les pirates attaquent souvent si proche de vos cotes?" (The pirates often attack so close to your coast?)
Carson was glad he had taken the time to learn the language of Orleans before setting out.
"Les pirates qui nous ont tendu un piege sont sur vos terres en ce moment meme. Un peu a l'est de ce peninsule." (The pirates who set a trap for us are on your land at this very moment. A little east of the peninsula.)
Carson slowed again, not wanting to push his wounded leg any more than he had to.
"Et si vous me le permettez, j'ai une autre question." (And if you don't mind, I have another question.) Carson hesitated as the officer led him through another crowd of people bargaining their wares in a small market. He filed away everything he saw- people, prices, architecture- for the ESB.
"Je suis un veteran de nombreux conflits a travers ce maudit continent-je pourrais vous être utile pour le bon prix." (I am a veteran of numerous conflicts across this accursed continent-I could be useful to you for the right price.)
@OrdureQuick question: How big is the Trading Post on the Peninsula?
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