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Forgetown Fables: Not Big and Not Clever

 Post subject: Forgetown Fables: Not Big and Not Clever
PostPosted: Wed Sep 01, 2010 4:05 am 
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Joined: Thu Mar 16, 2006 5:51 am
Posts: 24
Location: Forgetown, on the Reacher's Folly - Broken Stone trade route
Another visit to Forgetown, here. Like the older one on here it's not so much a story, as a single scene written by three people each playing thier own character(s)

This is copied from the Forgetown wiki, address in my sig.


This time in the Fables, a bounty hunter seeks the demise of a frankly psychotic squat raider outside of town. The main characters are Lordan Mannister, short mad raider. Grav Flash, hired muscle. And Aiden Doran, bounty hunter.


What appeared to be an open space is not, it still has the same amount of rubble, rocks and broken machinery as in the dome, the only difference is, that this is a much more open area and the general detritus has been organized to build small walls and sheltered places and such. Some of the machinery is stacked so that a person may climb and sit at the top as a look out. However it looks awfully unsafe and the tops sway somewhat.


The camp is no longer abandonded. Rather, it has been fortified against attack by its current occupants, some of which are standing watch towards the tunnel entrances. Others are going about their business within... which is mainly concerned with whoring, gambling, and counting the spoils of stolen goods.


This happy state of affairs is soon to come to an end. Coming from the tunnels is an armoured figure, one hand gripping a las-pistol while the other holds a hand flamer, which hisses quietly. Taking up a position behind some rubble, the bounty hunter Aiden Doran glances around it to take in the situation at the fortified camp.


Lordan Mannister surveys his temporary refuge, knowing well that his band of outlaws, misfits, malcontents and general pack of bastards will have to move on within a few hours. They've been hitting targets too close to the town, and even if the lawboys can't come out here to show a band of bastards a hard time, they can hire someone who will..
"Keep your eyes out!" he bellows to those on guard, his booming voice a counterpoint to his limited stature, "You'll get a break for drinkin' and whorin' soon enough!" He stomps over to a table set up for a dice game and kicks it over. "Dice when yer dead! We're leaving soon, pack yer sodding gear and get tooled up!"
What a pleasant chap.


Finishing up, Grav buckles his belt quickly as Manni starts in with his bellowing. The woman he leaves behind doesn't look tired, just disappointed perhaps. Grabbing his blade, more like a chainsaw on a stick, and his slug pistol, he steps up to the fore with little weight over perhaps a hundred and twenty pounds. "Ya'right sar'." He says, saluting with his sword before he moves to the edge of camp, peering out towards the main entrance. Brushing his sword through his mohawk, he looks back, "Sa'll boss, ain' got nah'body out thar' causin' trouble fer ya." He yells back before holstering his pistol and picking up a half drank bottle of...well something... and without even a cursory glance, begins chugging the stuff.


The bounty hunter smirks beneath his mask as he hears the shouting from within the camp. He stays behind the rubble for a few more moments, checking his weapons and making sure his armour is completely in place, before he steps out, into clear view of the camp. Then he speaks, voice projecting enough to be heard in the camp.
"Lordan Mannister! I offer you this one chance to come quietly and without violence. This also your only chance to escape from this... intact. What say you?"


"Aw, crapsticks.." rumbles Lordan, running to a vantage point. He hoists his eye-level above a low barricade and espies a lone figure facing his makeshift camp. "I reply to you thus, hunter of bounties.. " The vertically challenged raider reaches over the barricade, pointing an autopistol somewhere in the general direction of the interloper. "Bite me!" Lordan tightens his finger on the trigger and lets fly with the bullets. Once the clip is empty he yells in a surprisingly loud voice for his frame, "Put some holes in that sucka!"


Grav finishes his beer, half of it spilling over his chin, as the intruder starts speaking...one man. He quirks a brow, tossing the bottle weakly towards Aiden, before drawing his pistol. "Sure thing boss!" he calls, stabbing his sword into the dirt and levelling his pistols sights on the interloper, "Shoulda' stayed home ta'day boyo!" he says though the last half might be cut off by the howling of his autopistol, flaring yellow and orange at the muzzle and letting fly a slew of slugs. "Howa' 'bout some therapy fer' yer' lonely brain cell!" he calls, stumbling a bit from all the liquor he'd snuck earlier.


Aiden stands his ground as the gunfire from both Lordan and Grav flash from the camp, bullets ricocheting from the rubble around him. As the others in the camp bring weapons to bear, however, the bounty hunter moves back under cover, firing over it with his las pistol as he considers his options and what might get him to the camp safely.
Another flurry of shots sees him moving from one piece of cover to another one, closer to the camp entrance.


Lordan stomps angrily away from the barricade, letting the muscle do the gruntwork. "Pack of screaming bastard arses" he mutters to himself whilst carrying his diminutive self toward a row of cages. "Gonna stick a pint of killing in 'em sideways". He takes a key from his belt and rattles it in a padlock. Opening the cage releases a quartet of slavering scavhounds, one of which seems to be drooling luminous fluid from it's jaws. "Go get 'em, boys!" bellows Lordan. "Take a pipe and shove it in 'em!"
The poor dwarf is quite clearly out of his tree.


Flash eyes his weapon with a certain amount of contempt, damn thing missed. Dropping the clip, he loads another, taking closer aim this time...though at a moving target. "Yer' ah' bastard ya' know 'dat?" Grav calls to his potential target as more rounds flare to life, exploding rocks, debris and a strange three legged creature that looked about to gnaw on Aiden's achilles heel, inadvertently saving him from what would've been an agonizing time dealing with that bioluminescent poison. Which is what spatters all over the place, illuminted innard fluids. It's then that Lordan lets loose the hounds of... Necromunda. Slavering things, Grav is barely able to evade their pursuit as they tear past him.


"That's not what your mother called me!" Shouts the bounty hunter in reply, firing a few more shots before dropping the pack in his pistol and loading another one. He hardly notices the now dead three-legged creature, taking a peak over his cover to judge the situation... and catching sight of the hounds. With a muttered curse, he drops back down behind cover and grabs his hand flamer.
He waits for a few moments, letting the hounds close before he swings out from his cover and squeezes the trigger on the flamer, sending out a cone of fire.


"Asshats!" bellows Lordan, stomping towards the perimeter once more. His poor pooches are immolated by Aiden's barbaric flame weapon, even the one with luminescent drool. As the toxic dog falls, Lordan reaches a barricade. "Friggers!" he yells, loosing off another salvo from his autopistol. "Trumpetqueers!" The little man seems to be terribly enraged. "Kill that twonk! Charge him!"


"Ah hell..." Grav says, leaping over the barracade after snatching up his chain blade. Reving the grip, the blade starts to whir to life, just waiting it's chance to chew into flesh. Heavy boots take him over rocks, bugs and a couple of enflamed pooches before finally getting nearto where his blade would be useful, probably taking fire the entire way. Gripping the ...grip of his weapon, Flash sends a jolt of power through it as he begins an onslaught of attacks at Aiden, "Here ya' go pal!"


The Cawdor attempts to move back in time against the whirring blade of teeth, but he is not quite quick enough; on one of Grav's swings, his chain blade manages to catch Aiden on the arm, finding that (&#$@!) between plates of his armour. Though enough to draw blood, it is not enough to sever the limb. Still, the bounty hunter gives a brief shout of pain, pulling his arm back to himself once the blade is clear.
"You right bastard," spits the Cawdor, lunging at Grav with the intent to smash his masked head into his nose.


Lordan raises a triumphal fist as he sees one of his nameless goons, namely Mr. Grav Flash, inflict a bloody blow upon the interloper. "Har!" he shouts, "Put that in your charcoal!". The insane dwarf then takes to pacing as he notices Grav appears to be the only goon left that hasn't taken a glancing shot and run, or just run. He mutters improbable curses to himself, occasionally firing a burst from his autopistol in various directions.


Grav draws the weapon back with a smirk, "Sorry pal, someone's gettin' harmed out here ta'night." he says as the Cawdor lunges forward. An effort that Grav is able to use to his advantage as he begins swinging in a wild fashion, like the barbarians of old... very old. The cudgel of a sword does well enough, leaping in arcs at Aiden.


Aiden sway away from the swinging chain blade, dropping his hand flamer and letting it hang from its sling as he reaches for the knife on his belt. Unfortunately, this allows Grav to land a blow, slicing along the Cawdor's chest, drawing more blood and nearly severing the flamer's sling.
A bellow of pain comes from the bounty hunter, breathing slightly laboured as he rips his knife out and jams it into Grav's stomach. He leaves it there but a moment before he rips it to the side as he pulls it out, neatly eviscerating the thug. "But... only one of is going to die here tonight," spits Aiden between breaths, glancing down at the wound on his chest. With a muttered curse, he takes stock of the situation, noting the lack of thugs firing. With a grunt, he moves towards the entrance of the camp.


Spurting blood, Grav topples with a few gurgling noises to say the least, not all of them from his mouth or even wound. The chain blade clatters at Aiden's feet as Grav's life Flashes before his eyes. "Bloody-bastard-tunic-wearin'-cheap-thievin'..." his words drone off as Aiden walks towards the camp. However, the low din of his words can still be heard.


With a shaken fist and a flow of unlikely invective, Lordan Mannister witnesses the demise of his last paid goon. He sets off at a surprisingly fast-paced waddle in the direction opposite of the bounty hunter. "Frigging arsecheek snitches!" he bellows, his arms flailing wildly. "Noxious buggery!"


Aiden enters the camp, spotting the waddling dwarf easily enough and sets off after him, like some killer robot sent after someone. "I gave you a chance, Lordan... shame you had to waste it..." A pain-caused hiss of breath comes from the bounty hunter as he checks the charge on his las-pistol and the fuel of his hand-flamer.
"As it is, I'm going to take some enjoyment in your death for the trouble you've caused me."


"Frigging banjo clowns!" yells the squatster. He turns on his heel and empties the remainder of his clip mostly into the air. Who needs accuracy when you've got charisma? Reaching behind him he pulls an aged plasma weapon from his belt and activates the reactor. "Slimy cheekface! I'm full of a good business! Why're you ruining it?" The coils on the pistol glow bright green, despite a couple of cracks in the casing. A drip of coolant plops from the barrel onto the ground where it begins to sizzle.


Not concerning himself with the dwarf's wild fire, the Cawdor fires a few rounds from his las-pistol in response, aiming to cripple instead of kill... for the moment, anyway. "Because your worth a nice pile of creds," replies Aiden, sheathing his knife before taking up his hand-flamer again, warily eyeing the plasma weapon, "and because one less piece of scum like you is for the betterment of the Hive. I hope you've made your peace with the Emperor, and may he show you mercy... because I won't."


Built mostly of squat muscle, Lordan can take a lasbolt or two without too much bother. He grins, "Emperor my arse" he replies, "You blow your firegun at me and this plasma pistol goes nuke" to back up his threat, the crazy dwarf tilts the gun letting a little more coolant escape from the rapidly overreacting reactor. "What we have here is a Dead End standoff. You shoot at me and we both die, I shoot at you and you die. Oh, wait.. That's not a standoff.." He frowns, and then grins, as if finally working out a complex problem. "Eat (&#$@!) and die"
The dwarf pulls the trigger on the ancient plasma weapon. True to it's age and lack of maintenance, the reactor overloads and explodes, sending raw plasma in all directions. Most of this hits Lordan, who then joins the quickly expanding cloud of plasma, fire, superheated steam and what can only be described as chunks of charred meat in an expanding sphere.


Behind the mask, the eyes widen as the dwarf leaks more coolant. "You're insane..." mutters the Cawdor before he begins to back away, looking for cover that might stand up to the weapon. As Lordan pulls the trigger, and the weapon explodes, the bounty hunter dives behind some heavy machinery. Muttered curses can be heard, were anyone left to hear them, seeming to deal with the dwarf's parentage and insanity.
He remains there for some moments after the explosion has ended, slowly moving out from cover to survey the scene. With a quiet 'tsk', the Cawdor looks amongst the remains of Lordan for something recognizable enough to take back to the Guilders.


A few pieces of shrapnel land on the ground, and a fine dust comprised of part dwarf, part machine settles peacfully. With a meaty thunk, a human hand drops to the ground, it's fingers still locked in the galactic sign for 'Go away'. Fist clenched, index finger stretched outward.


"Hm. That'll do," murmurs the bounty hunter; he crouches to grab the hand, hissing in pain before standing and moving back towards the tunnels and Forgetown.

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