Prospector Saloon

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Re: Prospector Saloon

Post by Snacks » 17:24:07 Sunday, 09 July, 2017

Renee went from peeking around the front doorway of the station to glancing towards the backroom as her friend ran to take care of their other wounded host.

"Now, before anything goes screwing us over even more, Ruby, do you think you can make sure none of those assholes come back and shoot me while I grab what I can off those bodies?"

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Re: Prospector Saloon

Post by RinKou » 22:48:26 Sunday, 09 July, 2017

Huojin wrote:
15:22:35 Sunday, 09 July, 2017
Kirtland paused. Perhaps he and the businessman could help each other find the people they were looking for. "Do you know the city well? I'm something of a newcomer to it's... ways." The man of faith's distaste was well-hidden behind a vague hesitancy, although a close observer would have noticed something more than a tourist's caution.
"Freeman Milton?" Hargrave asks. "Doesn't ring a bell. You're one of those private detectives, then, Mr. Pratt?"

"Can't say I know too much about the city myself, aside from the stories I've heard. City of pre-war casino towers might sound like something to be impressed by for a waster or tribal. But if it's anything like Reno, I'd advise you to keep your friends close, and your gun-hand limber."

"Course, I should be the one asking you for advice on staying safe out there," He laughs for a moment, nodding at the gun on your belt and the lack of one on his. He waves down a passing stewardess for a drink. "Can I get you a drink, Mr. Pratt?"
Master of Oblivion wrote:
16:47:56 Sunday, 09 July, 2017
"Not too long, I reckon. I have some business to attend to in Vegas and then I plan on heading back home. This will be my first time in the city. I have heard plenty of stories, of course, but I never had a reason to go to it until today."

Salvador considers the two men with the ghoul for a moment before speaking again.
"Is it true the city is defended by an army of robots run by some mysterious casino owner?"
"Army might be too strong a word," the ghoul notes. "But, I suppose, these days, it's certainly enough to pass for one. The Securitrons, they'll defend the walls and patrol the streets, but in the casinos, it's still the Families who run things. Would this army of robots be something that'd interfere with your... business?"
Snacks wrote:
17:24:07 Sunday, 09 July, 2017
Renee went from peeking around the front doorway of the station to glancing towards the backroom as her friend ran to take care of their other wounded host.

"Now, before anything goes screwing us over even more, Ruby, do you think you can make sure none of those assholes come back and shoot me while I grab what I can off those bodies?"
Ruby nods, and the two of you make your way out toward the bodies. As you approach the Jackal with the leg troubles, the one Ruby put another couple rounds into, you realize he's still breathing, if shallowly. Kicking his rifle away just in case, you take stock of what he's got on hand as Ruby makes a quick sweep across the median and IDs another body.

With some quick calculations, you estimate what sort of haul you could pull from this.
LootShow
Service Rifle [Broken]
Service Rifle magazine (2)
5.56mm (40)

.32 Snub [Serviceable]
.32 (16)

.357 Repeating Rifle [Worn]
.357 (26)

Hunting Knife [Serviceable]
Jackal War Club [Serviceable]

Jet (3)
Med-X (1)
Healing Powder (3)
Pack of Cigarettes (14)
Mystery Pills (1)

Metal Breastplate [Broken]
Leather Jacket [Tattered]
2 Metal Forearm Guards [Serviceable]
1 Metal Shinguard [Broken]
2 Plastic Kneepads [Serviceable]
NCR Trooper Helmet [Serviceable]
Between you and Ruby, it wouldn't be a problem to haul this all back to the station, though you wonder if maybe you should put the dude out of his misery before you literally start stripping the shirt from his back. What's left of it, I mean.
Gesar wrote:
06:18:41 Sunday, 09 July, 2017
"Apply as much pressure as you can and make sure it's even!" Emma shouted back, hurriedly injecting a stimpack into Bobby's arm before tearing away the strap helping keep his vein in place. Satisfied that under normal conditions, Bobby would live to see another sunrise, she headed off after Larry.

And, speaking of horrible doubts, prayed silently that Renee and Ruby weren't in the mood for any heroics. But just for a second, as her attention quickly fell back towards their wounded. "If he's been shot..." Maybe you ought to pray too. "And you want to get him out of this, do exactly as I say," she declared, firmly. "Prop him up and make sure he's stable, but only after getting some bandages from my bag. A stimpack, if you've got one."

"I can take the bullet out, but if it's hit an artery, I'll need you to act fast and stop the bleeding."
Good news, Larry's mistaken - Enrique's been shot through the superior trapezius, rather than the neck proper. I mean, as good as that news might be. Not fifteen minutes ago, his idea of good news was free pot. He seems to have lost a serious amount of blood in the meantime, and you're not sure if you'll be able to save him. The prospectors don't have any medical supplies of their own, though, aside from healing powder, so this means the last of your Med-X and stims to improve your chances.
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Re: Prospector Saloon

Post by Huojin » 00:41:25 Monday, 10 July, 2017

RinKou wrote:
22:48:26 Sunday, 09 July, 2017
"Freeman Milton?" Hargrave asks. "Doesn't ring a bell. You're one of those private detectives, then, Mr. Pratt?"

"Can't say I know too much about the city myself, aside from the stories I've heard. City of pre-war casino towers might sound like something to be impressed by for a waster or tribal. But if it's anything like Reno, I'd advise you to keep your friends close, and your gun-hand limber."

"Course, I should be the one asking you for advice on staying safe out there," He laughs for a moment, nodding at the gun on your belt and the lack of one on his. He waves down a passing stewardess for a drink. "Can I get you a drink, Mr. Pratt?"
Kirtland smiled. Detective stories had never been his favourite, but the imagery of those old pre-war books and films was almost irresistible. "Not quite, Mr. Hargrave - although the comparison is appealing! No, I'm merely a wandering soul doing a kind turn for another. You never know quite what obstacles will be set on your path in life and mine... well, let's say it has had its fair share. Things have always turned out, though, and it seems to me that there's plenty to be said for being my brother's keeper, even after the end of the world."

Looking over the stewardess, Kirtland's mind juddered to a halt, before selecting an inoffensive response. "Very kind of you to offer, sir. Perhaps a lime and soda? I've never been one for the drink, and if the city is as dubious as you say then having my wits about me will be no bad thing."

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Re: Prospector Saloon

Post by Snacks » 01:25:28 Monday, 10 July, 2017

Renee gathered up what she could before turning her attention to the still-breathing raider. His intention to kill and/or rape and/or eat them all earlier aside, she'd never killed a defenseless person before. Hell, she'd never killed a non-defenseless person before a few minutes ago. Spending your life in Vault City, training at OSI, or getting to work far from the war was pretty good for not needing to kill people. Still, though, it was probably safer- what if he came to while she was taking his stuff? Besides, it was probably... well, wrong on a certain level, to just let a person bleed out like that.

She sighed and muttered, "Just... just think of it like that lame brahmin we had to help put down when we first signed on with the caravan. Y'know, just putting this dude out of his misery."

Standing over the Jackal, she made sure her aim was true and put one in his head before getting back to scavenging what she could, managing to not think too much about it until she and Ruby were back inside.

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Re: Prospector Saloon

Post by Gesar » 01:54:32 Monday, 10 July, 2017

Good news, Larry's mistaken - Enrique's been shot through the superior trapezius, rather than the neck proper. I mean, as good as that news might be. Not fifteen minutes ago, his idea of good news was free pot. He seems to have lost a serious amount of blood in the meantime, and you're not sure if you'll be able to save him. The prospectors don't have any medical supplies of their own, though, aside from healing powder, so this means the last of your Med-X and stims to improve your chances.
Oddly enough, Emma was feeling more at ease in her surroundings than she'd felt in weeks. Months, maybe. She even managed not to add, 'but not much' after a reassuring dip of her head in Larry's direction and a quiet, "Well, I've seen worse." Her bedside manner wasn't terrible enough to mention that 'worse' could have meant paralysis, a death sentence in one of these wasteland dumps.

"Do your friend a favor and hit him with a stimpack from my bag while I clean the wound," Emma directed, already going about her end of things, disinfecting the area with one hand and running a blood test with the other. "If he stops bleeding, some Med-X'll do the trick and I can maybe do a transfusion. Hopefully."

Now that was a weird word coming out of her mouth.

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Re: Prospector Saloon

Post by Master of Oblivion » 03:20:13 Monday, 10 July, 2017

"Army might be too strong a word," the ghoul notes. "But, I suppose, these days, it's certainly enough to pass for one. The Securitrons, they'll defend the walls and patrol the streets, but in the casinos, it's still the Families who run things. Would this army of robots be something that'd interfere with your... business?"
"Well seeing as how we are going to Vegas, a fella shouldn't tip his hand. Especially to a stranger he just met on a train. I'm just going to say I am trying to do a little bit of right in this harsh world."

Salvador coughed a couple times. Big throaty coughs. His body wasn't what it used to be. Time, radiation, and violence do that to a man. He was glad his adventures like this were coming to a close. He would soon be running a shop in California. Good times.

"So what's a ghoul and a couple of his friends doing heading up to vegas? You guys having a bachelor party or something?" He doubted that was the answer, but he was curious. Did those guys have guns in their pockets? He really didn't need to involve himself in anymore trouble.
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Re: Prospector Saloon

Post by RinKou » 04:21:27 Monday, 10 July, 2017

Huojin wrote:
00:41:25 Monday, 10 July, 2017
Kirtland smiled. Detective stories had never been his favourite, but the imagery of those old pre-war books and films was almost irresistible. "Not quite, Mr. Hargrave - although the comparison is appealing! No, I'm merely a wandering soul doing a kind turn for another. You never know quite what obstacles will be set on your path in life and mine... well, let's say it has had its fair share. Things have always turned out, though, and it seems to me that there's plenty to be said for being my brother's keeper, even after the end of the world."

Looking over the stewardess, Kirtland's mind juddered to a halt, before selecting an inoffensive response. "Very kind of you to offer, sir. Perhaps a lime and soda? I've never been one for the drink, and if the city is as dubious as you say then having my wits about me will be no bad thing."
"Miss, if you wouldn't mind," Hargrave says to the stewardess, who prepares you a lime and soda.

"I'd make a toast, but I hear it's bad luck to toast with water," he notes, before changing his mind. "But what's a little more bad luck, huh? Cheers."

He takes a hefty sip, and follows up. "Say, you've got a ... strange way of speaking. You're not from around these parts, are you?"
Master of Oblivion wrote:
03:20:13 Monday, 10 July, 2017
"Well seeing as how we are going to Vegas, a fella shouldn't tip his hand. Especially to a stranger he just met on a train. I'm just going to say I am trying to do a little bit of right in this harsh world."

Salvador coughed a couple times. Big throaty coughs. His body wasn't what it used to be. Time, radiation, and violence do that to a man. He was glad his adventures like this were coming to a close. He would soon be running a shop in California. Good times.

"So what's a ghoul and a couple of his friends doing heading up to vegas? You guys having a bachelor party or something?" He doubted that was the answer, but he was curious. Did those guys have guns in their pockets? He really didn't need to involve himself in anymore trouble.
"Little bit of right," the ghoul muses. "One of those sorts of jobs, eh? I only ask because you seem a ...reliable sort. Like we might have shared some life experiences."

You watch his companions out of the corner of your eye, and about then, you note that they might be more minders than lackeys.

"I'm retired these days, though," he sighs, and drops his book, as the train lurches toward a stop. A few of the workers in coach disembark to catch the transfer to Boulder City. "Clumsy, clumsy," he mutters, leaving a business card on the floor as he picks his book back up. "Reflexes aren't what they used to be when I was younger and had skin."

"No," he says, as the train starts moving again. "I'm just an old man now, off to manage a Freeside laundry in my golden years. Hell of a time to be shipped off to the desert like this."

The city is coming into view now. The tracks run through some of the surrounding suburbs. Even for someone from Reno, there was a certain Old World charm to the city that had been (largely) spared the bombs. Here, the damage done to the few standing ruins were done by neglect and time, and the raiding and instability that comes in the aftermath of a conflagration as great as the Great War.

The once vast suburbs have become small farmsteads, as decaying houses have been torn down, and lawns and cul de sacs have been torn out and replaced with hardy scrubland crops. Occasionally, you catch sight of workers in the fields, and their overseers. These aren't the yeomen farmers of Searchlight or Goodsprings.

As the sun starts to set, you can make out the concentric walls of New Vegas - the space between each set of walls filled in with taller and taller buildings until, above them all, stand the inner casinos of the Strip itself, and towering above them all, the majestic Lucky 38.
Gesar wrote:
01:54:32 Monday, 10 July, 2017
"Do your friend a favor and hit him with a stimpack from my bag while I clean the wound," Emma directed, already going about her end of things, disinfecting the area with one hand and running a blood test with the other. "If he stops bleeding, some Med-X'll do the trick and I can maybe do a transfusion. Hopefully."

Now that was a weird word coming out of her mouth.
Larry nods and follow's Emma's instructions as she continues the procedure. This was, by far, a terrible day, but it was the sort of terrible day that lined up perfectly with her skillset, and Emma's skillset was built around solving peoples' terrible days. Those Jackals probably would've come through if the girls were here or not - and probably weren't expecting them to begin with. As bad as this was, this was the best possible way this could have turned out - an extra pair of heavy guns and a doctor. A doctor who shares the patient's blood type, too.

Maybe that's one of those little miracles that helps you feel a bit hopeful about things, even if you'd normally B-.
Snacks wrote:
01:25:28 Monday, 10 July, 2017
Standing over the Jackal, she made sure her aim was true and put one in his head before getting back to scavenging what she could, managing to not think too much about it until she and Ruby were back inside.
Hearing Renee's Mauser go off, Ruby looks over as she lights a cigarette. "Shit, was he still alive? Swore he looked dead a second ago."

"Bad form, sorry." She goes back to rifling through her designated corpse's pockets. "Hey, how are we splitting this loot? Like, are we going 50-50 with those prospector boys or are we considering me an independent contractor in your employ for this stretch of our trip? Probably take a bit of their share, what with the Doc patching their boys up and all."

"Shit haul anyhow," she muses. Then, noting it's been a while since Renee said anything, Ruby peeked over the median.

"We'll talk inside. Let's out of here before any more of them along, alright?"
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Re: Prospector Saloon

Post by Snacks » 05:10:45 Monday, 10 July, 2017

Renee was pretty sure she heard Ruby's question, though it all sounded a little distant somehow, and she was pretty sure she replied, though from the perspective of literally anyone else it came off as a distracted mumble that sort of trailed off in the middle after "Sounds fair...[I mean, what with you almost getting filled with lead, and the three of us saving these chumps' asses just now.]" She at least nodded at Ruby's suggestion to head back in, having the focus to pull something in front of the door once they were both inside.

With that, she finally had the time to breathe. and then immediately run to the nearest trash-can and empty her breakfast into it.

"...Sorry, I've never, uh, you kno-"

and there went the previous night's dinner.

"...never killed anyone before. Ugh. Is it fucked up to wonder if these guys have any more of those hot-dogs? Cause now I'm starving."

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Re: Prospector Saloon

Post by Gesar » 20:03:09 Monday, 10 July, 2017

Larry nods and follow's Emma's instructions as she continues the procedure. This was, by far, a terrible day, but it was the sort of terrible day that lined up perfectly with her skillset, and Emma's skillset was built around solving peoples' terrible days. Those Jackals probably would've come through if the girls were here or not - and probably weren't expecting them to begin with. As bad as this was, this was the best possible way this could have turned out - an extra pair of heavy guns and a doctor. A doctor who shares the patient's blood type, too.

Maybe that's one of those little miracles that helps you feel a bit hopeful about things, even if you'd normally B-.
"Well, I'll B," Emma mutters, managing a wan smile at the sight of the blood test. "Luck's on your side today, Enrique." She set the test down, making a note to sterilize her equipment extra-thoroughly after all this was over, and went back to patching up the exit wound, hoping that a basic suture would be enough for bandages and a stimpack to do the rest of the work. "Now for the tricky part...help me out here, Larry."

"Let's hope you're clean...and don't mind needles too much." Searching for a likely vein, Emma focused on disinfecting the area for a transfusion. "Get this strap around my arm while I- there. Just breathe, Enrique." Practiced hands slid the tube into the injection sight, and the doctor drew a tentative breath. And, just maybe, today won't be so bad after all. Relatively.

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Re: Prospector Saloon

Post by Master of Oblivion » 23:12:40 Tuesday, 11 July, 2017

"Little bit of right," the ghoul muses. "One of those sorts of jobs, eh? I only ask because you seem a ...reliable sort. Like we might have shared some life experiences."

You watch his companions out of the corner of your eye, and about then, you note that they might be more minders than lackeys.

"I'm retired these days, though," he sighs, and drops his book, as the train lurches toward a stop. A few of the workers in coach disembark to catch the transfer to Boulder City. "Clumsy, clumsy," he mutters, leaving a business card on the floor as he picks his book back up. "Reflexes aren't what they used to be when I was younger and had skin."

"No," he says, as the train starts moving again. "I'm just an old man now, off to manage a Freeside laundry in my golden years. Hell of a time to be shipped off to the desert like this."

The city is coming into view now. The tracks run through some of the surrounding suburbs. Even for someone from Reno, there was a certain Old World charm to the city that had been (largely) spared the bombs. Here, the damage done to the few standing ruins were done by neglect and time, and the raiding and instability that comes in the aftermath of a conflagration as great as the Great War.

The once vast suburbs have become small farmsteads, as decaying houses have been torn down, and lawns and cul de sacs have been torn out and replaced with hardy scrubland crops. Occasionally, you catch sight of workers in the fields, and their overseers. These aren't the yeomen farmers of Searchlight or Goodsprings.

As the sun starts to set, you can make out the concentric walls of New Vegas - the space between each set of walls filled in with taller and taller buildings until, above them all, stand the inner casinos of the Strip itself, and towering above them all, the majestic Lucky 38.
"After a hard life, managing a laundry ain't that bad. Plenty of folks never make it that far, and I am just not talking about those who went to plenty of rodeos."
Salvador looked out his window. What a view. Once while doing a cattle drive he had come within the vicinity of Vegas. The shinning casinos could be seen for miles on end. He had heard a religious fellow once talk about the shinning city on the hill. For him that could have just as well been Vegas.

Salvador coughed again and took advantage of that to keel over into a faking coughing fit. As he did so he quickly snatched up the man's business card.
"I wish you good luck, friend." He said to the man as the train started to slow down into the station. He looked at his young client expectantly.

"Ready to find your friend?"
Gesar's Game: Hoping We don't leave the magic fantasy land
1990: Israel
Metal Gear: Iran
Aliens!: USSR
New Vegas: Salvador
Brazil: Proletarian Unification Party
1936: Empire of Japan

You either die Fo'Dolo or see yourself live long enough to be the Patton.

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Re: Prospector Saloon

Post by Huojin » 19:00:51 Saturday, 15 July, 2017

RinKou wrote:
04:21:27 Monday, 10 July, 2017
"Miss, if you wouldn't mind," Hargrave says to the stewardess, who prepares you a lime and soda.

"I'd make a toast, but I hear it's bad luck to toast with water," he notes, before changing his mind. "But what's a little more bad luck, huh? Cheers."

He takes a hefty sip, and follows up. "Say, you've got a ... strange way of speaking. You're not from around these parts, are you?"
Kirtland clinks his glass gently against Hargrave's. "Cheers." The effervescence of the bubbles played over his tongue in a way thoroughly unlike previous drinks he had had. How was it even these small things were better?

Regarding Hargrave's question, Kirtland pursues his lips in thought for a moment. "You are very astute, sir. I hail from further to the east... although my home is long gone now. Raiding tribes further east destroyed it... some time ago, now."

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Re: Prospector Saloon

Post by RinKou » 17:33:23 Sunday, 16 July, 2017

Snacks wrote:
05:10:45 Monday, 10 July, 2017
"...Sorry, I've never, uh, you kno-"

and there went the previous night's dinner.

"...never killed anyone before. Ugh. Is it fucked up to wonder if these guys have any more of those hot-dogs? Cause now I'm starving."
Ruby commandeers the grill as Bobby recuperates and starts making you some down-home cooking that reminds you of mom's spaghetti. "Don't think too much about the first time I killed a man," she says, flipping mantis claws. "I was almost twelve and maybe eighty pounds soaking wet. He was middle-aged, probably had two feet and three-hundred pounds on me."

She stops for a moment to wrap your dog in a convenient bacon strip, because if pigs survived the Metro Great War, they sure as hell survived this one. She sits down next to you.

"My mom," she pauses. "Sold me to him. He was...huge. Gigantic. And I was so little." She voice starts to quiver. "God, I lived in a cage in the North Vegas sewers for months? Years?"

She pours herself a drink and slides you one. "I made a little shiv, a few weeks in, and slept with it every night, hoping it'd come to life and save me. Never did. One night he was on top of me and I finally pulled it out, and he just laughed. Laughed because he knew I wouldn't do it."

She pauses again.

"Stabbed that no good son of a bitch through the eye. Just made him scream real good, so I stabbed him again til he stopped. And he's still on top of me, three-hundred bleeding, stinking, piss-leaking pounds on me for two days until a courier came by to drop off some mail found me and pulled me out."

She takes a moment to compose herself again.

"Moral of the story is, that son of a bitch absolutely deserved it. World's full of shitbags that need killing, and nobody else is going to do it for you."

Then, muttering half to herself, "Don't go telling anybody this shit either."
Gesar wrote:
20:03:09 Monday, 10 July, 2017
"Let's hope you're clean...and don't mind needles too much." Searching for a likely vein, Emma focused on disinfecting the area for a transfusion. "Get this strap around my arm while I- there. Just breathe, Enrique." Practiced hands slid the tube into the injection sight, and the doctor drew a tentative breath. And, just maybe, today won't be so bad after all. Relatively.
Enrique nods his approval. Least, that's what you think he's doing. Hard to nod properly when you're shot through the not-quite-neck. "You mentioned you had some friends over in East Boneyard? Might have to go back and tell them what's up after all this."

"What I'm trying to say is, thanks, doc. Was all ready for them pearly gates too, after all this dirt."

It's late afternoon by the time the operations are finished. Larry's not too optimistic about staying here much longer, though. With the stimpak and Med-X cocktail, Enrique and Bobby would be good to travel, though they wouldn't likely be able to carry much weight - the group could probably divide up the majority of the useful loot and haul it to your next stop, or leave it under lock and key and attempt to return for it later. At this rate, you could probably all make it to the Outpost by early evening, though that's a stretch of road closer to civilization, what with electric lights and patrols. It probably wouldn't be too dangerous a trek. Plus, you're pretty sure the GM wouldn't throw your party into a second combat event while the other parties still have yet to get off the train.
Master of Oblivion wrote:
23:12:40 Tuesday, 11 July, 2017
Salvador coughed again and took advantage of that to keel over into a faking coughing fit. As he did so he quickly snatched up the man's business card.
"I wish you good luck, friend." He said to the man as the train started to slow down into the station. He looked at his young client expectantly.

"Ready to find your friend?"
"Been ready," Bill says, spitting a wad of chewing tobacco.

You note the gaggle of soldiers heading toward the Strip, though you're not sure if they're heading for the monorail station or the casinos.

Billy pats his pocket. "Got a cashier's check here with enough on it to get us all onto the Strip, but...from what I hear about the law on the Strip, I don't know how much I'd wager we'd be able to get away with it."

He pauses a second, as if to get your opinion, but starts again before you can give it. "Now, I ain't no coward, but I'd rather be able to walk away from this after this here business is taken care of. I'm sure you feel the same way. Getting him on patrol might be our best bet, but I'm willing to listen to what a seasoned gunhand's got to say."

You consider your options as you check the ghoul's card. You didn't have a lot of experience with business cards in your Reno days, but you've seen enough to know that this was certainly too fancy to be a laundromat manager's card. Subtle off-white coloring, tasteful thickness. It even has a watermark. The name's given as Johnny Ghoul, and, just off the Strip, is Chang's Chinese Laundry.
Huojin wrote:
19:00:51 Saturday, 15 July, 2017
Regarding Hargrave's question, Kirtland pursues his lips in thought for a moment. "You are very astute, sir. I hail from further to the east... although my home is long gone now. Raiding tribes further east destroyed it... some time ago, now."
"Aw shit, that's rotten luck," Hargrave whistles. "Don't hear stories like that back west anymore. Sorry to hear about it, pal."

The train trundles to a stop at the Freeside station - from the looks of it, a recently cleaned up part of town. Art galleries and brewpubs mix neatly with tasteful murals depicting desert life and Vegas glamour. Little sign of the ragged and destitute, despite all the stories you've heard.

"Hey, Mr. Pratt, if you don't have sleeping arrangements already set up, why don't you join me out on the ranch tonight?" Hargrave points to a waiting attendant at the platform, with his name on a posterboard.
Heartache by the Numbers: Caravan Master

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Snacks
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Re: Prospector Saloon

Post by Snacks » 14:22:07 Monday, 17 July, 2017

Renee sat there for a moment in the slightly awkward lull in conversation, a shot and a (admittedly very good- that woman could fucking grill) mantis dog holding down her otherwise empty stomach and Ruby's words weighing on her mind.

"My uncle told me stories about what things used to be like in California, in the frontier days before the government brought all the settlements together and put a stop to the worst of the raiding and slavers. He was still kind of young, then, and our family was safe living in Vault City, but grandpa didn't make his living in the city like his folks or mine did."

She got up, beginning to search for material to build a travois for hauling, or at least some bindles, trying to take Ruby's implied advice to not dwell on what'd been necessary, and staving off thinking too hard about it with something to focus her attention.

"No, Grandpa Ben worked with the caravans to and from Redding- gold for meds and all that. Got to see all sorts of awful stuff. Villages wiped out by monsters from the wastes- not always literal ones, either. Bandits, cannibals, slavers. Sometimes just people just desperate and burned out enough do fucked up stuff like... uh, try to plug a bunch of traders full of holes for a moldy old police station. Parents never liked to talk about that kind of stuff much, and Gramps died when I was still kinda young- Uncle Grant did, though, when they weren't around to gripe about it. He always said it was important to remember how much better we had it and everything the NCR's done to keep us safe from more of it- running off the Vipers and Khans and sending those Brotherhood goons scurrying back to their holes."

She rifled through some desks, "Funny, feels like not all that long ago that he was tellning me one day I'd get what he and Grandpa Ben meant about how living in the Wasteland was living by your wits and a gun. About how you always have to trust your gut when bringing someone on, because you don't want to go out there and need to trust they'll come through only for them to not have your back."

Finding the last of what she was looking for, she finally met Ruby's gaze again, "So, uh, you know. Neither of us want to get all mushy about this, but thanks. For having my back there. My gut said to trust Emma and obviously her instinct was right to ask you to travel with us... and for the record, I meant it about the even split right now. Considering how we all pulled through back there, I'm sure they won't mind if we keep what we pulled of some dead raiders, and you're your own woman- you're sure as hell pulling your weight."

After making sure their three hosts were occupied with helping Emma or being doctored by her, she tried to look at least a little more cheerful and added quietly, "So why don't we haggle these boys blind before getting them the fuck out of here and up the road somewhere a little safer, huh?"

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Master of Oblivion
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Re: Prospector Saloon

Post by Master of Oblivion » 01:03:33 Tuesday, 18 July, 2017

"Been ready," Bill says, spitting a wad of chewing tobacco.

You note the gaggle of soldiers heading toward the Strip, though you're not sure if they're heading for the monorail station or the casinos.

Billy pats his pocket. "Got a cashier's check here with enough on it to get us all onto the Strip, but...from what I hear about the law on the Strip, I don't know how much I'd wager we'd be able to get away with it."

He pauses a second, as if to get your opinion, but starts again before you can give it. "Now, I ain't no coward, but I'd rather be able to walk away from this after this here business is taken care of. I'm sure you feel the same way. Getting him on patrol might be our best bet, but I'm willing to listen to what a seasoned gunhand's got to say."

You consider your options as you check the ghoul's card. You didn't have a lot of experience with business cards in your Reno days, but you've seen enough to know that this was certainly too fancy to be a laundromat manager's card. Subtle off-white coloring, tasteful thickness. It even has a watermark. The name's given as Johnny Ghoul, and, just off the Strip, is Chang's Chinese Laundry.
Salvador considered his options for a moment, taking his hat off his head and scratching his scalp. He imagined he could sneak his knife into a New Vegas casino. There it would be a waiting game, hoping to get the Coyote alone and vulnerable. Perhaps when he was on the shitter or seeing a whore. Of course that could lead to a long waiting game, one which might not payoff at all.

On the other hand getting him on patrol was risky too. Coyote would be with other soldiers who were armed and antsy. Furthermore the NCR wouldn't make its patrol schedule public so they would have to rely on blind luck to find him. It was a huge wasteland afterall.

Putting his hat back on, Salvador said "I think our best bet is to follow him for now and see what he is up to. We need to scout the territory."
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Re: Prospector Saloon

Post by Huojin » 17:00:26 Tuesday, 18 July, 2017

RinKou wrote:
17:33:23 Sunday, 16 July, 2017
"Aw shit, that's rotten luck," Hargrave whistles. "Don't hear stories like that back west anymore. Sorry to hear about it, pal."

The train trundles to a stop at the Freeside station - from the looks of it, a recently cleaned up part of town. Art galleries and brewpubs mix neatly with tasteful murals depicting desert life and Vegas glamour. Little sign of the ragged and destitute, despite all the stories you've heard.

"Hey, Mr. Pratt, if you don't have sleeping arrangements already set up, why don't you join me out on the ranch tonight?" Hargrave points to a waiting attendant at the platform, with his name on a posterboard.
Kirtland considered for a moment, regarding the strange sights beyond the train. This was not what he had expected... and he had no wish to hunt for a quiet corner to rest in amongst the doubtless degraded morals of the city. If Mr. Hargrave was generous enough to offer him a place, and be a guide in this strange place, there seemed little harm in accepting. Even if the man drank.

"Kind of you to offer! I'll take you up on lodgings, though I hasten to add that I won't be imposing long." He scooped his books and trinkets into his bag and drained the last remnants of his drink, before standing to follow Hargrave out of the train and into the desert. Hopefully for fewer than 40 days and nights.

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