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My bad.
@Letter Bee
Hagen raised an eyebrow. "Trader, eh?." He snorted with laughter. "I'm sorry If you don't like people pointing guns at you, but in case you hadn't noticed this city is at war." He told the youngster. "So you want to trade. All right, follow me. We'll see what the boss thinks of you. Alone." He specified, pointing at the rest of Par's men. "They can cool their heels here."
Hagen led Par into the Tuileries bar, through crowds of drunks and the poor until they came to where the leader of the revolution sat nursing a glass of something strong.
"So Dan." Napoleon said. "Who's the stray?"
"Trader. Wants to...trade." Hagen answered. Napoleon V swung round to face Par. "All right, friend." She said, sipping her drink. "What do you have for me?" She didn't invite Par to sit down.
@Tuxedo Fox
SECONDARY QUEST-A Light in the Darkness
The barge moved clumsily towards shore, minimising the area the two little Marauder craft could attack. Boss dropped into cover, as did Carson. Boss fired a couple of shots from his handgun. Carson didn't see if he hit anything; he concentrated on the second boat. The major fired off a tight three-round burst, cursing as the bullets thudded into the red-painted hull of the enemy vessel.
Return fire whipped across the water, sparking off the side of the barge. AH let out a high-pitched warble that sounded like a battle-cry, opening up with a surprising amount of fire that caught one of the Marauder's crew in the torso, hurling him of his ship and into the water. The first vessel swept past, inundating the barge in small-arms fire. Carson leaned over the rail, firing back. He whooped in glee as he saw his bullets drop another foe out of sight, blood spiralling through the air.
Boss stood: "Choke on this you sonsofbitches!" He roared, hurling a grenade with all his might. The explosion caught the second boat at the stern as it came in for it's first pass, kicking the rear clear out of the water. Carson pumped a fist in the air. "Hell yes, Boss! That'll teach em to mess with pros!" The Marauder vessel began to sink. Her surviving crew swarmed the decks, firing with whatever weapons they had. The barge swung towards it, bearing down on the smaller craft.
"Uh, Boss?" Carson shouted. "Your pilot got a death wish?"
Before the other could respond the barge slammed into the Marauder craft. The enemy ship exploded into shards of wood and metal as Boss' ship pulverised it like it hadn't even been there. Carson didn't even lose his balance.
The surviving enemies on board the enemy ship were annihilated, wiped from the Wasteland as if they'd never been there.
There was no time to celebrate. Even as the barge ploughed through the remnants of the Marauders the first ship, which had swung around for another attack, was alongside. Several Marauder scum hosed the deck with fire whilst five of their comrades leapt across onto the barge.
"Boss!" Carson shouted. "We got boarders!" Kind of pointless to shout that. Boss could hardly miss them. The major groaned as he spotted a Mister Gutsy amongst the enemy.
"Kill em all, let God sort 'em out!" The Marauder robot barked, powering across the deck.
Hagen raised an eyebrow. "Trader, eh?." He snorted with laughter. "I'm sorry If you don't like people pointing guns at you, but in case you hadn't noticed this city is at war." He told the youngster. "So you want to trade. All right, follow me. We'll see what the boss thinks of you. Alone." He specified, pointing at the rest of Par's men. "They can cool their heels here."
Hagen led Par into the Tuileries bar, through crowds of drunks and the poor until they came to where the leader of the revolution sat nursing a glass of something strong.
"So Dan." Napoleon said. "Who's the stray?"
"Trader. Wants to...trade." Hagen answered. Napoleon V swung round to face Par. "All right, friend." She said, sipping her drink. "What do you have for me?" She didn't invite Par to sit down.
@Tuxedo Fox
SECONDARY QUEST-A Light in the Darkness
The barge moved clumsily towards shore, minimising the area the two little Marauder craft could attack. Boss dropped into cover, as did Carson. Boss fired a couple of shots from his handgun. Carson didn't see if he hit anything; he concentrated on the second boat. The major fired off a tight three-round burst, cursing as the bullets thudded into the red-painted hull of the enemy vessel.
Return fire whipped across the water, sparking off the side of the barge. AH let out a high-pitched warble that sounded like a battle-cry, opening up with a surprising amount of fire that caught one of the Marauder's crew in the torso, hurling him of his ship and into the water. The first vessel swept past, inundating the barge in small-arms fire. Carson leaned over the rail, firing back. He whooped in glee as he saw his bullets drop another foe out of sight, blood spiralling through the air.
Boss stood: "Choke on this you sonsofbitches!" He roared, hurling a grenade with all his might. The explosion caught the second boat at the stern as it came in for it's first pass, kicking the rear clear out of the water. Carson pumped a fist in the air. "Hell yes, Boss! That'll teach em to mess with pros!" The Marauder vessel began to sink. Her surviving crew swarmed the decks, firing with whatever weapons they had. The barge swung towards it, bearing down on the smaller craft.
"Uh, Boss?" Carson shouted. "Your pilot got a death wish?"
Before the other could respond the barge slammed into the Marauder craft. The enemy ship exploded into shards of wood and metal as Boss' ship pulverised it like it hadn't even been there. Carson didn't even lose his balance.
The surviving enemies on board the enemy ship were annihilated, wiped from the Wasteland as if they'd never been there.
There was no time to celebrate. Even as the barge ploughed through the remnants of the Marauders the first ship, which had swung around for another attack, was alongside. Several Marauder scum hosed the deck with fire whilst five of their comrades leapt across onto the barge.
"Boss!" Carson shouted. "We got boarders!" Kind of pointless to shout that. Boss could hardly miss them. The major groaned as he spotted a Mister Gutsy amongst the enemy.
"Kill em all, let God sort 'em out!" The Marauder robot barked, powering across the deck.
@Letter Bee
Napoleon V watched as the crowd howled in jubilation, chanting her name over and over again until their throats were raw.
"Et vous, mes enfants, vous etes la force dans mes bras, les teneurs de mes reves, les heritiers de Notre combat!" (And you, my children, you are the strength in my arm, the holders of my dreams, the inheritors of our struggle!) The revolutionary general swelled her voice, so it reached even those at the very back of the crowd.
"Ne faiblissez pas! Ne reculez pas! Ne vous rendez pas! Vive la Revolution! A mort le Roi!" (Do not weaken! Do not retreat! Do not surrender!)
The crowd went wild, several people breaking into forbidden songs all insulting the King. Napoleon V raised her hands to the crowd, basking in the knowledge that these people were hers. Hers to do with as she pleased. Power. The best drug of them all.
"Madame?" A familiar voice hissed in her ear. She sighed. "Bon Dieu, Stephane, but you can't let me enjoy myself even for a moment."
Stephane de Beauharnais, her chief bodyguard and occasional lover, stood beside her with a blank expression on his face. "Desole, Madame, if my primary concern is to protect you." His baby-blue eyes were serious.
Napoleon sighed again. De Beauharnais was a looker, no two ways about it, but he wasn't the sharpest tool in the box. He never understood the necessity for her to be seen to be close to the people. Good thing sex wasn't difficult, or he would have needed someone else to hold his dick for him.
"What is it, then?" She said, climbing down from the makeshift platform.
"There is a group if people making their way through the crowd towards us. Professionals. They are getting dangerously close."
"But they haven't started shooting yet?" Napoleon asked.
"Well, no, but-"
"Then get Hagen to deal with them. If you shoot them down and it turns out they were a Brotherhood of Steel delegation coming to offer us support, we would look like right fucking idiots, wouldn't we?"
de Beauharnais looked confused, as he often did. "They're from the Brotherhood?" He asked.
"No, Stephane. It was just an example. Get Hagen to talk to them before they get any closer. And have our snipers cover him. I'm going for a drink." The revolutionary leader headed for the "Tuileries", the most loyal revolutionary bar in the city, which was just beside her makeshift stage.
"Have Hagen join me once he's finished with our guests." She said, ducking through the door.
Daniel Hagen was just the opposite of Napoleon V's handsome bodyguard. Indeed, his startling ugliness and malformed body,a legacy of an Order flamethrower, had earned him the nickname "The Twisted". Others called him thus because of the depth of his cunning and duplicity. Perhaps the greatest strategist the Revolution possessed, he had served in its ranks for over forty years. He was Napoleon's right hand, and a most impressive hand he was. Crossing the square he elbowed people out of his way until he reached where Par and his men forced their own path through the crowd.
"Halt!" Hagen snapped, his men deploying in a rough semicircle in front of the strangers. Perhaps ironically, all of Hagen's elite squad-his "Dragons"- were all armed with flamethrowers. A nod from one of them showed Hagen that the snipers watching the square had also trained their weapons on Par and his band.
"All right, you and your little circus have gone far enough!" Hagen went on, putting his fists on his hips. "Just what in the Hell do you want? You Mercs or something? Looking for a payout? Cause you're shit outta luck if you are."
Napoleon V watched as the crowd howled in jubilation, chanting her name over and over again until their throats were raw.
"Et vous, mes enfants, vous etes la force dans mes bras, les teneurs de mes reves, les heritiers de Notre combat!" (And you, my children, you are the strength in my arm, the holders of my dreams, the inheritors of our struggle!) The revolutionary general swelled her voice, so it reached even those at the very back of the crowd.
"Ne faiblissez pas! Ne reculez pas! Ne vous rendez pas! Vive la Revolution! A mort le Roi!" (Do not weaken! Do not retreat! Do not surrender!)
The crowd went wild, several people breaking into forbidden songs all insulting the King. Napoleon V raised her hands to the crowd, basking in the knowledge that these people were hers. Hers to do with as she pleased. Power. The best drug of them all.
"Madame?" A familiar voice hissed in her ear. She sighed. "Bon Dieu, Stephane, but you can't let me enjoy myself even for a moment."
Stephane de Beauharnais, her chief bodyguard and occasional lover, stood beside her with a blank expression on his face. "Desole, Madame, if my primary concern is to protect you." His baby-blue eyes were serious.
Napoleon sighed again. De Beauharnais was a looker, no two ways about it, but he wasn't the sharpest tool in the box. He never understood the necessity for her to be seen to be close to the people. Good thing sex wasn't difficult, or he would have needed someone else to hold his dick for him.
"What is it, then?" She said, climbing down from the makeshift platform.
"There is a group if people making their way through the crowd towards us. Professionals. They are getting dangerously close."
"But they haven't started shooting yet?" Napoleon asked.
"Well, no, but-"
"Then get Hagen to deal with them. If you shoot them down and it turns out they were a Brotherhood of Steel delegation coming to offer us support, we would look like right fucking idiots, wouldn't we?"
de Beauharnais looked confused, as he often did. "They're from the Brotherhood?" He asked.
"No, Stephane. It was just an example. Get Hagen to talk to them before they get any closer. And have our snipers cover him. I'm going for a drink." The revolutionary leader headed for the "Tuileries", the most loyal revolutionary bar in the city, which was just beside her makeshift stage.
"Have Hagen join me once he's finished with our guests." She said, ducking through the door.
Daniel Hagen was just the opposite of Napoleon V's handsome bodyguard. Indeed, his startling ugliness and malformed body,a legacy of an Order flamethrower, had earned him the nickname "The Twisted". Others called him thus because of the depth of his cunning and duplicity. Perhaps the greatest strategist the Revolution possessed, he had served in its ranks for over forty years. He was Napoleon's right hand, and a most impressive hand he was. Crossing the square he elbowed people out of his way until he reached where Par and his men forced their own path through the crowd.
"Halt!" Hagen snapped, his men deploying in a rough semicircle in front of the strangers. Perhaps ironically, all of Hagen's elite squad-his "Dragons"- were all armed with flamethrowers. A nod from one of them showed Hagen that the snipers watching the square had also trained their weapons on Par and his band.
"All right, you and your little circus have gone far enough!" Hagen went on, putting his fists on his hips. "Just what in the Hell do you want? You Mercs or something? Looking for a payout? Cause you're shit outta luck if you are."
@Letter Bee I'll check with Ordure, see if I can respond to you (he asked me not to while you were working out the details of your custom faction.)
@Tuxedo Fox
SECONDARY QUEST-A Light in the Darkness
The barge pulled away from the docks with a surprising elegance. Probably the skill of the pilot, Carson thought as he braced himself against the bulkhead, smoke dribbling from his cigar. "I don't know the waters around here at all." The woman called Cat said. Carson nodded and spent the next several minutes directing her around some of the larger obstacles he remembered from his ESB files.
"Hey Carson!" Boss called from the deck. "Get you ass out here, got a lil somethin for ya. Call it a company perk." Carson left the cabin and crossed the deck to where Boss was rooting through a crate filled with straw. He tossed Carson one I'd the contents, which the major caught. He held up the frag grenade, nodding happily. "This I like." He said, tossing the grenade into the air and catching it again. "Could really fuck up someone's day with this."
"Can't wait to see that ocean." Boss sounded happy at least.
"Yeah, its certainly something." Carson agreed, going over to the rail to watch the Trading Post slide by. He took a final pull of his cigar before throwing the butt into the water.
As the barge got closer to the ocean Carson found himself uneasy. The last time he had been out in the Gulf he had been sunk. He hoped he was just being paranoid. Asshead, the little Eyebot that had caused Boss and Carson to meet, chirped excitedly from the bow where it was scanning for any unwelcome visitors. Carson headed that way, making calming motions with his hands (although he wasn't sure if robots responded to that kind of thing.) "Take it easy, little guy." He said. "Its an Order customs boat. It won't shoot at us. Hopefully." The Eyebot bobbed around, seemingly still excited. He was to be disappointed, though. The Order vessel only gave the battered barge a cursory glance before moving on.
As the ocean appeared at the ships bow, stretching across the horizon, Carson gripped the rail until his knuckles turned white. Now came the fun part: creeping down the coast whilst hoping no Marauders sent them to the bottom.
And, sure enough, Marauders appeared. Two small red-painted boats came roaring out of a secluded bay.
"Fuck!" Carson cursed. "Boss! BOSS! Look alive! Some bastards are looking for a shoot em up!" As he spoke he clicked his safety off. "You too, little guy." He told AH. "Charge up your lasers or whatever. You'll be needing them if you don't want to end up a pile of spare parts!"
SECONDARY QUEST-A Light in the Darkness
The barge pulled away from the docks with a surprising elegance. Probably the skill of the pilot, Carson thought as he braced himself against the bulkhead, smoke dribbling from his cigar. "I don't know the waters around here at all." The woman called Cat said. Carson nodded and spent the next several minutes directing her around some of the larger obstacles he remembered from his ESB files.
"Hey Carson!" Boss called from the deck. "Get you ass out here, got a lil somethin for ya. Call it a company perk." Carson left the cabin and crossed the deck to where Boss was rooting through a crate filled with straw. He tossed Carson one I'd the contents, which the major caught. He held up the frag grenade, nodding happily. "This I like." He said, tossing the grenade into the air and catching it again. "Could really fuck up someone's day with this."
"Can't wait to see that ocean." Boss sounded happy at least.
"Yeah, its certainly something." Carson agreed, going over to the rail to watch the Trading Post slide by. He took a final pull of his cigar before throwing the butt into the water.
As the barge got closer to the ocean Carson found himself uneasy. The last time he had been out in the Gulf he had been sunk. He hoped he was just being paranoid. Asshead, the little Eyebot that had caused Boss and Carson to meet, chirped excitedly from the bow where it was scanning for any unwelcome visitors. Carson headed that way, making calming motions with his hands (although he wasn't sure if robots responded to that kind of thing.) "Take it easy, little guy." He said. "Its an Order customs boat. It won't shoot at us. Hopefully." The Eyebot bobbed around, seemingly still excited. He was to be disappointed, though. The Order vessel only gave the battered barge a cursory glance before moving on.
As the ocean appeared at the ships bow, stretching across the horizon, Carson gripped the rail until his knuckles turned white. Now came the fun part: creeping down the coast whilst hoping no Marauders sent them to the bottom.
And, sure enough, Marauders appeared. Two small red-painted boats came roaring out of a secluded bay.
"Fuck!" Carson cursed. "Boss! BOSS! Look alive! Some bastards are looking for a shoot em up!" As he spoke he clicked his safety off. "You too, little guy." He told AH. "Charge up your lasers or whatever. You'll be needing them if you don't want to end up a pile of spare parts!"
@Tuxedo Fox Depends really. We'd end up stranded away from the city, and Boss would lose all of his merchandise. We'll have to see what happens.
@Tuxedo Fox
Carson followed Boss into the control room for his barge. It was essentially what the major would have expected; a rusting collection of Pre-War tech painstakingly maintained by whatever odds and ends the crew could scrape together.
The rooms' occupant, a pretty blonde wearing a cowboy hat, touched the brim of her headgear in welcome before stepping forward and shaking Carson's hand. The major smiled back at her. She had a Hell of a handshake, all right. She showed him where the ship's radio was, lamenting the fate if the man who had last worked on it.
"Thanks." Carson said, leaning over the set and scanning the dials. "Looks like Pete did mist of the work for me." He muttered aloud after a couple of minutes' scrutiny. "He reset the receiver to default. Must have been trying to tune into the local radio stations." He fiddled with one of the dials for a moment, rewarded with a howl of static. "Yeah, nice one." He was Half-speaking to himself. "He was trying to scan the wavelengths manually. Makes sense, he didn't..." He trailed off, working the buttons underneath the dials. "And boom!" He crowed, as the voice of an Order broadcaster filled the cabin. "Vive le Roi!" Blared the radio. Carson lowered the volume a little, picking up the radio mic attached to the side.
"Now all that needs done is to calibrate the output...Art, this is Tom Carson. Can you hear me? Art Hartmann, this is Carson speaking. Can you hear me?" Nothing but hissing static. Carson tried again.
"Hartmann, this is Carson. Come in."
A few tries later and Arthur Hartmann's voice, mangled but understandable, came from the radio.
"...arson! Thought you'd...ven up on me!"
"Not a chance, pal." Carson said, slamming his fist against the bulkhead in jubilation. "Are you at the location?"
"...astards kept coming....to keep moving inland....ircled round. Holed up...ighthouse but there's a....hip that crashed here too. More Marauders th.. you can shake a stick at."
"The lighthouse?" Carson swore feelingly. "Alright. I'll make my way to you. Are you wounded? What shape is the T-60 in?"
"...ot a scratch. The armour's in...ad way. I'll have to abandon it if...eeps up."
"Hold your position as best you can. I'm on my way." Carson signed off, thinking hard. He turned to Boss, who was still in the room.
"Look, pal, this lighthouse. It's the same one the radio's been going on about, I reckon. You fancy making some caps? Get me to that lighthouse. We waste the scum there, recover my guy, and put the light back on. Hell, it might even get us into the Order's good graces. You might get a better price for your stuff. Your barge could get us plenty close, if we stuck close to shore." He took a deep drag of his cigar. "After all, you wanted to see the ocean..."
Carson followed Boss into the control room for his barge. It was essentially what the major would have expected; a rusting collection of Pre-War tech painstakingly maintained by whatever odds and ends the crew could scrape together.
The rooms' occupant, a pretty blonde wearing a cowboy hat, touched the brim of her headgear in welcome before stepping forward and shaking Carson's hand. The major smiled back at her. She had a Hell of a handshake, all right. She showed him where the ship's radio was, lamenting the fate if the man who had last worked on it.
"Thanks." Carson said, leaning over the set and scanning the dials. "Looks like Pete did mist of the work for me." He muttered aloud after a couple of minutes' scrutiny. "He reset the receiver to default. Must have been trying to tune into the local radio stations." He fiddled with one of the dials for a moment, rewarded with a howl of static. "Yeah, nice one." He was Half-speaking to himself. "He was trying to scan the wavelengths manually. Makes sense, he didn't..." He trailed off, working the buttons underneath the dials. "And boom!" He crowed, as the voice of an Order broadcaster filled the cabin. "Vive le Roi!" Blared the radio. Carson lowered the volume a little, picking up the radio mic attached to the side.
"Now all that needs done is to calibrate the output...Art, this is Tom Carson. Can you hear me? Art Hartmann, this is Carson speaking. Can you hear me?" Nothing but hissing static. Carson tried again.
"Hartmann, this is Carson. Come in."
A few tries later and Arthur Hartmann's voice, mangled but understandable, came from the radio.
"...arson! Thought you'd...ven up on me!"
"Not a chance, pal." Carson said, slamming his fist against the bulkhead in jubilation. "Are you at the location?"
"...astards kept coming....to keep moving inland....ircled round. Holed up...ighthouse but there's a....hip that crashed here too. More Marauders th.. you can shake a stick at."
"The lighthouse?" Carson swore feelingly. "Alright. I'll make my way to you. Are you wounded? What shape is the T-60 in?"
"...ot a scratch. The armour's in...ad way. I'll have to abandon it if...eeps up."
"Hold your position as best you can. I'm on my way." Carson signed off, thinking hard. He turned to Boss, who was still in the room.
"Look, pal, this lighthouse. It's the same one the radio's been going on about, I reckon. You fancy making some caps? Get me to that lighthouse. We waste the scum there, recover my guy, and put the light back on. Hell, it might even get us into the Order's good graces. You might get a better price for your stuff. Your barge could get us plenty close, if we stuck close to shore." He took a deep drag of his cigar. "After all, you wanted to see the ocean..."
Better too many posts than not enough!
@Tuxedo Fox
Carson watched the Ghoul storm off the barge, still muttering under his breath.
"He's a good hand." Boss went on, "just has a mouth on him. Sure you know the type."
"I do." Carson answered, following Boss through the masses of supplies stocked on the barge deck. "In my opinion, if you let a stranger insult you from your first meeting, how are you ever going to get any respect from him from then on?" He shrugged as Boss hammered on a door leading into the barge. "I despise bad manners, especially from someone I don't even know. I would never have called him a maggot farm if he hadn't labelled me a smoothskin from the get go."
Boss held his hand out for the agreed amount of caps. Carson handed them over willingly before stepping into the cabin. "Hey there," He said, nodding at the woman who had opened the door. "Where's the radio at?"
Carson watched the Ghoul storm off the barge, still muttering under his breath.
"He's a good hand." Boss went on, "just has a mouth on him. Sure you know the type."
"I do." Carson answered, following Boss through the masses of supplies stocked on the barge deck. "In my opinion, if you let a stranger insult you from your first meeting, how are you ever going to get any respect from him from then on?" He shrugged as Boss hammered on a door leading into the barge. "I despise bad manners, especially from someone I don't even know. I would never have called him a maggot farm if he hadn't labelled me a smoothskin from the get go."
Boss held his hand out for the agreed amount of caps. Carson handed them over willingly before stepping into the cabin. "Hey there," He said, nodding at the woman who had opened the door. "Where's the radio at?"
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