Let's Sperg A Kiwi Play By Post Game: Alien Earth

Slurms McCorgi said:
Skye's mind has taken off again. All noise around her has faded, all bustle just a blur, as she concentrates on nothing in particular. The sound of Gemma's voice snaps her out of it, and she silently follows the others to their new destination. Her battered hunting mask prevents her from inhaling the worst of the smog but, sadly, does nothing for the smell.

After combining her remaining starting value with the pay, she now has...159 somethings! She sets 42 aside for boozing and blows the rest on a second water skin, a first aid kit of her own, thirty feet of rope, a bicycle (!), and an extravagant meal of fish and wine. The less of this bartering stuff she has to carry around, the better.

...Oh wait, do I need a Pilot: Bicycle skill to use the dang thing?
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No, you can make do with your natural attributes, and you'd only need to rely on them under extreme circumstances. You can use it just fine normally.
I'll post an update in a few days, I have some real life stuff that I need to get done first.
Just as a bit of a a hook...
There's a notice board in the front of the bar that Shotgun, the bartender, directs you towards. The parasitic twin growing out of his upper chest, Ned, informs you that they can give you more information about who posted any fliers.
Looking through the board, three notices stand out:

A recruitment notice for an expedition to the far east. Notably, it says that "job may be highly dangerous, and proper hazard equipment is recommended."

A message from the Church of Satan looking for "negotiators" to deal with a "problem party". "Discretion is not necessary".

A notice about mercenaries being needed to aid in an expedition to a ruined NASA facility. Mentions that "experience fighting raiders" is a plus.
 
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What a wonderful assortment of jobs! Skye, as luck would have it, is illiterate and can't understand most of the ads, but she'll be more than glad to keep assisting travelers. Never mind her flaky gannet cousins; this is probably why she's taken so long to go home.

She pours half her drink onto the ground outside as thanks to the gods for the day's victories; the rest, she sips idly as she asks around the bar of any news from the Gulf. How at least three individuals will share that mouthful is a mystery, but she figures they'll appreciate all the same.
 
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@alex_theman @Slurms McCorgi @Trickie @Burned Man @WonkeyDong
Sorry for not updating, I've been dealing with real life stuff for the past few days.
Skye, you hear that a ship that went missing a few months back, The Fortune, has been found, sans crew. It was tangled up in a stretch of marshes on the coast. No trace of the crew, bodies, blood, or evidence of a fight, was found.

Ssir Reginald, you learn that raider attacks have increased in the past few months, due to the war between the different factions of the Ulstics draining resources normally spent on keeping the roadways clear and bribing the gangs. Just a few days a go, the Powdersniffers, one of the "Big Three" raider tribes, abducted a group of travelers near Sugarland in a slave raid.

Ben, you get a good drink of white lightning. Donte gets several, and attracts some attention after he stumbles into a large man in a leather jacket with numerous odd tattoos. (Someone could roll a Knowledge: Reminate Tribes check for this)
 
Randall Fragg said:
@alex_theman @Slurms McCorgi @Trickie @Burned Man @WonkeyDong
Sorry for not updating, I've been dealing with real life stuff for the past few days.
Skye, you hear that a ship that went missing a few months back, The Fortune, has been found, sans crew. It was tangled up in a stretch of marshes on the coast. No trace of the crew, bodies, blood, or evidence of a fight, was found.

Ssir Reginald, you learn that raider attacks have increased in the past few months, due to the war between the different factions of the Ulstics draining resources normally spent on keeping the roadways clear and bribing the gangs. Just a few days a go, the Powdersniffers, one of the "Big Three" raider tribes, abducted a group of travelers near Sugarland in a slave raid.

Ben, you get a good drink of white lightning. Donte gets several, and attracts some attention after he stumbles into a large man in a leather jacket with numerous odd tattoos. (Someone could roll a Knowledge: Reminate Tribes check for this)
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I compliment the man on his tattoos, and asks where i could get ones like them
 
Sir Reginald notices the mans tattoos and searches his memory for what they could be.

Then he abruptly stands up and turns to face whoever he overheard. "An abduction you say? This sounds like a call to arms that must be answered. For I am Sir Reginald T Thaddington of Knightburg and by my honor am I obligated to help!"
 
Burned Man said:
Sir Reginald notices the mans tattoos and searches his memory for what they could be.

Then he abruptly stands up and turns to face whoever he overheard. "An abduction you say? This sounds like a call to arms that must be answered. For I am Sir Reginald T Thaddington of Knightburg and by my honor am I obligated to help!"
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You are unable to gain any meaningful information from his tats, other than a few road signs and motercycles.
A few of the patrons break out laughing, and then quit once they realize you're crazy enough to be serious.
"Wait, shit, are you serious?" says a particularly ugly mutant (it's impossible to tell is it even possesses a gender at this point). "Well, Samuel-damnit, he's serious." The mutant (Radhed) shakes the mass of tentacles and tumors it calls a head. "Well, if you really want to go after them. they're probably camped out along Highway 6. They don't really have anyone to fear, so it's not like they camo up their campsites. Look for a bunch of guys in cameo shit with a few trucks and jeeps. Kind of like that guy." s/he points one of the working fingers on its forth hand at Ben.
"If they have a leader with them, it's probably One-Eyed Willy. He's one of the Powdersniffer's Lieutenants, and a real nasty motherfucker."

WonkeyDong said:
I compliment the man on his tattoos, and asks where i could get ones like them
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He grins, showing off a large set of rodent like teeth. "You'd hav tah join da Satan's Son's. We're da toughest gang dis side of da Missisip! No muties, Jews, or witches fuck wid us."
 
Randall Fragg said:
You are unable to gain any meaningful information from his tats, other than a few road signs and motercycles.
A few of the patrons break out laughing, and then quit once they realize you're crazy enough to be serious.
"Wait, shit, are you serious?" says a particularly ugly mutant (it's impossible to tell is it even possesses a gender at this point). "Well, Samuel-damnit, he's serious." The mutant (Radhed) shakes the mass of tentacles and tumors it calls a head. "Well, if you really want to go after them. they're probably camped out along Highway 6. They don't really have anyone to fear, so it's not like they camo up their campsites. Look for a bunch of guys in cameo shit with a few trucks and jeeps. Kind of like that guy." s/he points one of the working fingers on its forth hand at Ben.
"If they have a leader with them, it's probably One-Eyed Willy. He's one of the Powdersniffer's Lieutenants, and a real nasty motherfucker."


He grins, showing off a large set of rodent like teeth. "You'd hav tah join da Satan's Son's. We're da toughest gang dis side of da Missisip! No muties, Jews, or witches fuck wid us."
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I Humbly walk away from the man, restraining my urge to run back for the rko
 
Sir Reginald studies Ben's camouflage pattern. "These brigands wear such strange heraldry. Very well then I shall be off at once. Wait, how many leagues off is this highway 6 you speak of? Never mind it is of little consequence." With this he storms out of the bar and proceeds to actually stop and consider the logistics of the task he just took without thinking.
 
Aw dang, sorry for the absence. I've made some really dumb mistakes this week and [something something excuses, something something atrocious coping skills]. Anyhow--

Skye ponders what she's just heard. A ghost ship and a gang war? Clearly something celestial is afoot. Maybe. She addresses Radhead, her gaze focused just above the fellow's repulsive head. "I know little of the Powdersniffers or their rivals. How far does their domain reach?"
 
Slurms McCorgi said:
Aw dang, sorry for the absence. I've made some really dumb mistakes this week and [something something excuses, something something atrocious coping skills]. Anyhow--

Skye ponders what she's just heard. A ghost ship and a gang war? Clearly something celestial is afoot. Maybe. She addresses Radhead, her gaze focused just above the fellow's repulsive head. "I know little of the Powdersniffers or their rivals. How far does their domain reach?"
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Sorry for not updating recently, I just got distracted by other stuff.
"The Powdersniffers? Well, they conduct raids around Houston, although they don't attack the city directly. Their slave-hunting grounds stretch about halfway the road to Dallas, and half way the road to Old Antonio, as per their agreement with Las Familias and the Motorheds. Years ago, they made a deal with each other. The agreed to split the region between them, and come to each other's aid if one of them was attacked. It's why they ain't been broken up yet by the Ulstics." Radhead spits a bloody loogie on the barroom floor and resumes talking.
"They're the big guys in the area. Most of the other raider tribes either pay tribute to them, work for them, or scrape out a living dodging them. Like I said earlier, Powdersniffers control this area. Their main compound is somewhere to the southwest, at least from what I hear. They typically abduct slaves in nighttime raids. However, they have a shitton of guns, and love using them, and will gladly wipe out anyone who attempts to fight back.
Las Familias lives out to the west, and don't really have any headquarters. They're situated in a bunch of little villages that each family lords over. They typically raid caravans, and have a thing for the dramatic. Suits, flamethrowers, automatic weapons. They like being flashy, and intimidating people into surrendering. A caravan I was with a few years ago got stolen like that. Ran up in a shiny ass car shooting in there air and yelling at us. We pulled over, they took our cars, and we got left standing in the desert.
The Motorheds are fucking psychos. They're some sort of cult living up near Dallas, and they like to take people alive. Nobodys really too sure of what they do with them. Some folks say they sacrifice them to their gods. Others say that they brainwash em into the cult. Supoose it don't really matter, as long as you ain't being taken alive by them."

Burned Man said:
Sir Reginald studies Ben's camouflage pattern. "These brigands wear such strange heraldry. Very well then I shall be off at once. Wait, how many leagues off is this highway 6 you speak of? Never mind it is of little consequence." With this he storms out of the bar and proceeds to actually stop and consider the logistics of the task he just took without thinking.
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The last transmission from the caravan was about 20 miles west of you. (Cellphones exist (thanks Nokia), but the Ulstics have a monopoly on the restored cell towers and charge high prices for use of them, if you don't have connections. "Minutes" of cell time often act as an impromptu currency. Much like in some modern day African nations.)
 
Sir Reginald decides it is probably in his best interest not to attack the raiders by him self. "Looking for party to run Powdersniffers raider camp."
 
Burned Man said:
Sir Reginald decides it is probably in his best interest not to attack the raiders by him self. "Looking for party to run Powdersniffers raider camp."
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You are a fucking sped. If banning you wouldn't trigger an autistic backlash it'd be justifiable at this point. Stop shitting up legitimate threads with your lazy, passive-aggressive shitposting. You've been in these threads for half a fucking year.
 
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