The_Spectre
Lonely Angel
- Joined
- Aug 21, 2009
- Posts
- 6,225
Fallout RP
- Thread starter Lansfirestar
- Start date
Lansfirestar
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2008
- Posts
- 1,150
Lans = NCR Squad Leader
Avellan13 = Enclave Operative/Wastelander
The_Spectre = Wastelander
MTBR = NCR Ranger
Alright, we really need female writers XD anyway, the plot is becoming clear
Avellan13 = Enclave Operative/Wastelander
The_Spectre = Wastelander
MTBR = NCR Ranger
Alright, we really need female writers XD anyway, the plot is becoming clear
cmky
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Jun 2, 2011
- Posts
- 144
Alrighty, fellas, I'll bite. Okay, more like nibble. There are a couple other RPs I'm thinking about joining, but I love the Fallout series (I've played all of them, how many of you bitches can say that?)
I'm a little confused as to why we don't just start this at the 'beginning' of the game, so to speak?
New Vegas was my fav precisely because there were so many factions to deal with and play off each other. If the Legion has already been defeated, that deflates the tension a bit, no?
Anyhoos, just a thought.
Lansfirestar
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2008
- Posts
- 1,150
let's see
I've played Fallout, Fallout 2, Fallout 3, Fallout New Vegas, AND Brotherhood of steel. XD
alrighty, let's go for this. hmmmm midway
that way, we can use the excuse for the NCR group to arrive BECAUSE of the upcoming SECOND battle for hoover dam, the Enclave got involved because of the potential of the dam.
So anyone up to posting their preferred status on the following groups
NCR
Legion
Great Khans
Brotherhood of Steel
Boomers
Goodsprings
Novac
Primm
Freeside
The Strip
I've played Fallout, Fallout 2, Fallout 3, Fallout New Vegas, AND Brotherhood of steel. XD
alrighty, let's go for this. hmmmm midway
that way, we can use the excuse for the NCR group to arrive BECAUSE of the upcoming SECOND battle for hoover dam, the Enclave got involved because of the potential of the dam.So anyone up to posting their preferred status on the following groups
NCR
Legion
Great Khans
Brotherhood of Steel
Boomers
Goodsprings
Novac
Primm
Freeside
The Strip
Lansfirestar
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2008
- Posts
- 1,150
I AM IN CHARGE!!!!
but yeah it's also a collaborative effort
I'll set up the current scenario once we have another female writer
btw, responses... please do paragraph replies. i'll post the final touches in a bit
but yeah it's also a collaborative effort
I'll set up the current scenario once we have another female writer
btw, responses... please do paragraph replies. i'll post the final touches in a bit
cmky
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Jun 2, 2011
- Posts
- 144
Vanth
Street urchin turned prospector.
NCR: Sneering Punk
Brotherhood of Steel: unknown
Ceasar's Legion: unknown
Freeside: liked
Followers of the Apoc: good-natured rascal
The Strip: mixed
Boomers: unknown
Powder Gangers: unknown
Great Kahns: accepted
Raiders: vilified
Novac: accepted
Primm: mixed
Good Springs: liked
Vanth is a part rogue, part grifter, part scavenger. She excels at stealthly skills, thievery and trapmaking.
She carries a silenced 22, a hunting rifle and a knife in her boot.
Street urchin turned prospector.
NCR: Sneering Punk
Brotherhood of Steel: unknown
Ceasar's Legion: unknown
Freeside: liked
Followers of the Apoc: good-natured rascal
The Strip: mixed
Boomers: unknown
Powder Gangers: unknown
Great Kahns: accepted
Raiders: vilified
Novac: accepted
Primm: mixed
Good Springs: liked
Vanth is a part rogue, part grifter, part scavenger. She excels at stealthly skills, thievery and trapmaking.
She carries a silenced 22, a hunting rifle and a knife in her boot.
The_Spectre
Lonely Angel
- Joined
- Aug 21, 2009
- Posts
- 6,225
I was thinking my character came from the Capital so in terms of status within the Mojave is pretty neutral. I put some more later, but for now, I'm off.
Lansfirestar
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2008
- Posts
- 1,150
the story will officially start in vault 3, the RP will be set up as soon as we get a third setup.
Character bios, please post. limit weapons only to your primary weapon, secondary weapon, and melee/unarmed weapon. also your gear should be based on the equipment available to your respective faction (modifications allowed). also please limit to at least 4 "tagged skills" in which your character is specialized in (refer to Fallout NV skills)
>players can start either at Vault 3 or Novac respectively< more details will follow.
Character bios, please post. limit weapons only to your primary weapon, secondary weapon, and melee/unarmed weapon. also your gear should be based on the equipment available to your respective faction (modifications allowed). also please limit to at least 4 "tagged skills" in which your character is specialized in (refer to Fallout NV skills)
>players can start either at Vault 3 or Novac respectively< more details will follow.
cmky
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Jun 2, 2011
- Posts
- 144
Vanth,
Primary (tagged) skills:
Small Guns
Explosives
Lockpick
Sneak
Lesser skills:
Medicine
Repair
Speech
Barter
Suggested 'Perks'
Black Widow/Cherchez le Femme
Run 'n Gun
Demolition Expert
Silent Runner
Scrounger
Silent Running
Light step
Description:
Vanth is living proof that God exists, and has a wicked sense of humor. In a world where the strong rule the weak, she stands just over five feet tall, and weighs just under a hundred pounds.
In a land that on a good day seems to blaze with the heat of a thousand suns, she was born with the bright red hair and fair skin of the Irish.
As if fate weren't cruel enough, she had the misfortune of being born in New Vegas' Westside, one of the poorest communities in the Mohave, which just happens to be a stone's throw from the wealthiest community in the Mohave, The Strip.
Vanth dresses to suit the occasion. A slinky if tattered blue dress when she needs to catch a man's eye. A suit of dirt-colored leathers when she needs to avoid it. When she's out and about, Vanth is typically covered head-to-toe, when she's not, she's typically wearing as little as possible.
Primary (tagged) skills:
Small Guns
Explosives
Lockpick
Sneak
Lesser skills:
Medicine
Repair
Speech
Barter
Suggested 'Perks'
Black Widow/Cherchez le Femme
Run 'n Gun
Demolition Expert
Silent Runner
Scrounger
Silent Running
Light step
Description:
Vanth is living proof that God exists, and has a wicked sense of humor. In a world where the strong rule the weak, she stands just over five feet tall, and weighs just under a hundred pounds.
In a land that on a good day seems to blaze with the heat of a thousand suns, she was born with the bright red hair and fair skin of the Irish.
As if fate weren't cruel enough, she had the misfortune of being born in New Vegas' Westside, one of the poorest communities in the Mohave, which just happens to be a stone's throw from the wealthiest community in the Mohave, The Strip.
Vanth dresses to suit the occasion. A slinky if tattered blue dress when she needs to catch a man's eye. A suit of dirt-colored leathers when she needs to avoid it. When she's out and about, Vanth is typically covered head-to-toe, when she's not, she's typically wearing as little as possible.
cmky
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Jun 2, 2011
- Posts
- 144
Vanth
The fat man was stronger than he seemed. One meaty hand was pressed between her knees, the other was clamped like a vise on her hip. She was perched on his lap. Not by choice, mind you, the man had caught her mid-stride and sat her here before she was the wiser. Regardless, it was a precarious place to be, no matter how she got there. If the fat bastard decided to roll over, she'd be pinned underneath a sweaty mass of greasy NCR rancher that stunk far worse than any brahmin she'd ever come across. With her luck, he'd die right there on the spot and she'd suffocate underneath his rotting corpse—it wasn't like anyone from the Atomic Wrangler would be stopping by anytime soon, and it wasn't like they'd lift a finger to help her even if they did.
Vanth met the man at The Thorn. She knew a good mark when she saw one, and this fatty was an easy mark. She slipped away, and into something more appropriate, before sliding up next to him. Before he knew it, he was buying her drinks and wondering aloud if the carpet really did match the drapes. After that, it was as easy as shooting radroaches. She lured him away from the Thorn—and Red Lucy's watchful stare--and took him to the Wrangler, a much more comfortable place to earn her living.
She kept him at the tables long enough to make the Garret's happy before coaxing him into the luxury suite. It was a far cry from the lousiest flop on the Strip, but it was a hell of a lot better than her other options. Besides, it came with a complimentary bath, and who could pass that up?
Everything was going according to plan until he got his greasy paws on her hips. It's all about leverage, see? Once a guy's got you by the hips, especially a guy what weighs three times what you do, there ain't a whole lot you can do about it. Leverage, it seems, was never on Vanth’s side.
Vanth twisted around in the fat man's lap, ignoring the stiffening member that pressed up against her ass, and flashed the rancher her most devious grin. She'd practiced this maneuver countless times in front of an old, cracked mirror. There was a trick to it; looking playful yet sexy, making your hair fall in your face just so; wasn't as easy as it looked, and it had to be done properly to have the right affect.
“Mister Harrison,” she began in as sultry a tone as she could muster, “what's the rush? We've got all night.”
His grip tightened. “What's the rush? Heh, I'll tell you, little girl, what's the rush. I've been waiting all night to see that little red cunt of yours, and I aim to see it now.”
fucker
Vanth threw her arms around the man's neck and laughed. “You just can't wait to score yourself a ginger, can you, Mister Harrison?”
Harrison shook his head. “You're a sweet little piece o' tail, and that's no lie.” His hand moved from her hip, up the length of her body, to cup her breast. “Now, time to earn your keep.”
It was just what she expected him to do. In one fluid motion, she was off his lap and out of reach of his grasping, fat fingers. Still, her expression was a perfect mask, wanton and hungry.
“And I can't wait to do just that,” she said while dancing playfully out of his reach. “Unfortunately, you've filled this lil' red-haired whore full o wine, and now she's gotta go.”
Harrison grunted in acknowledgment, and Vanth excused herself to the restroom.
Two minutes later she returned. Harrison was stark naked, a sight she could have gone all day without seeing. She crossed to the cabinet and poured two glasses of whiskey.
The first trick to get a man to do exactly what you want is to not phrase a statement as a question. Questions could be objected too, statements could not.
“Here ya go, Mister Harrison, bottom's up,” she said, handing him the full tumbler.
The second trick is to distract him from the fact that you've just manipulated him into doing exactly that.
Vanth pulled the straps of her dress over her shoulders and let the faded garment pile down around her bare feet. She wasn't wearing anything underneath.
“Well?” she said with a devilish smile.
Harrison sat there, mouth agape, and stared.
“Hot damn,” he said following a lust pause, and downed his whiskey in a single gulp.
Vanth's smile widened, turning predatory. She took two steps forward and shoved him, hard, with both hands. Harrison fell back on the bed, and like a cat she was on top of him.
She looked down at him, from underneath a mass of dingy red hair. “Ready for the fuck of your life, Mister Harrison?”
Harrison nodded, but he looked confused, distant. He began to sweat even more than he already was. Vanth leaned down, so close that their noses almost touched. She could smell the stench of rotting brahmin between his yellowing teeth.
“Somethin' the matter, Mister Harrison?” she asked. “Had a bit too much to drink?” She trailed a finger down his hairy chest, noting with some displeasure that his tits were bigger than her own.
Her eyes flicked back up to his. “Maybe...something you ate?”
He nodded dumbly, and then, with a throaty gasp, passed out.
Vanth sat up, crossing her arms over her chest, not taking her eyes off him.
“Pig,” she said, to no one. Then she slapped him across the face.
He didn't so much as twitch. So she slapped him again, just to make sure.
Satisfied, she climbed down off him and, now that she didn't have a leering fat man trying to play grab-ass with her, took a good long minute to look around. She didn't reach for her clothes, or make move to cover herself. Modesty wasn't something she'd ever been able to afford.
Vanth caught sight of her naked form in a dingy, cracked mirror. She frowned. It was hard to imagine anyone, even a morbidly obese rancher from out west, would actually want to have sex with her. She would never be called voluptuous, she’d never be mistaken for Joana or one of the other ladies from Gomorrah. Her frame fluctuated somewhere between lean and scrawny. Her hips were to bony, her legs were like twigs, which made her knees look knobbly, and her boobs stopped growing when she was fourteen. Worse, all of this was covered in three weeks worth of sweat and grime.
In the adjoining room, a cooling bath awaited a man who was to fat to ever enjoy, and Vanth's skin positively itched with the desire to soak in its soapy embrace. But the whisky, which she'd laced with diluted cazador poison, would wear off soon, at which point he'd wake with the worst hangover he'd ever had in is miserable existence, and no doubt, in an even worse mood. Vanth wanted to be long gone before that happened..
Her attention turned to the safe, which sat next the overloaded bed. As Harrison sawed a steady tune next to her, Vanth set about springing the lock. She'd watched earlier when he secured his valuables inside. She tried to peak at the combination as he set it, but that proved impossible when he put his three-foot wide back to her. Now, she had to do it the old fashioned way.
Pulling a bobby-pin from her hair, she separated the prongs with her teeth and tried to listen for the soft 'click' of a tripped tumbler over the fat man's snores. A few minutes later, the lock sprang open, and she twisted the handle to open the heavy safe door. She sat cross-legged on the floor and peeked inside, where she found a small leather purse filled with more than 250 bottle caps...enough to feed the orphans of Westside for weeks, an old pocket-watch and chain, and two stimpaks. Score!
Vanth gathered the loot in her hands and came to her feet. Something tickled the back of her ear, or, rather, the lack of something. She cocked her head and listened. Then it hit her: lardo had stopped snoring.
She snatched her gaze to the bed, expecting to find him climbing out of it and coming for her in a blind rage. All kinds of other, equally unpleasant thoughts filled the space in the remainder of that heartbeat. Fortunately, at least for her, what she discovered wasn't an awake and enraged Mister Harrison, but an unconscious and quickly turning-purple Mister Harrison.
Huh. Odd.
Had she miscalculated the cazador poison? Or was he just especially susceptible to it? Of course, she'd never tried this particular recipe before, but in theory it should have worked just fine. In theory, at least.
Harrison was now turning a dangerous shade of purple, and his extremities were swelling to freakish proportions; even his cock was purple and swollen.
Vanth took a step toward him and stopped. Was he really worth saving, even if she could? Even if she could save him, which she doubted, under the circumstances, what would she do then?
Vanth chewed her lip. She asked herself the one question that always got her moving when she faced a moral dilemma. What will let me sleep well tonight?. That decided it, and she sprang into action.
Dropping everything but one of the stimpaks, she leaped on the bed and straddled his massive girth. Without hesitation, she pulled the cap off the pak and plunged the needle directly into his heart. The precious fluids inside quickly emptied into his chest. Harrison gasped, his eyes, red and watery, shot open and transfixed on Vanth.
Just as quickly, he expired, a fact accentuated by the ripe stench of his voided bowels.
Vanth shrugged. She'd done what she could, there was no sense in feeling bad about it now. She climbed down off him and covered the lower half of the bed with the blankets in a vain attempt to contain the stench. She gathered her things and put them in the bathroom, then she turned back to what remained of Harrison's goods. She found another fifty caps in his clothes, a clean pair of socks, and some eyeglasses that she was positive were good for something. On the nightstand sat his revolver, a shiny .357 with a walnut finish. She took it, the belt holster, and all the ammo. They weren't much use to her, but she could always use them for trade. Lastly, she emptied the complimentary food from the fridge into her pack.
Since she was no longer in a hurry, she set a pot of water to boil and used it to re-heat the bathwater. Once it was piping hot, she gingerly lowered herself into it. The experience was better than sex. It always was. Okay, maybe that was exaggeration. Not much could beat a good romp with Sunny Smiles, but a free bath at the Wranger was something to brag about.
See, the Wrangler was one of the few places in Westside with running water, one of the few places outside the Strip you could get a hot bath period, and James Garret never let the girls bathe for free. Usually the price was letting him stick his pecker up your tailpipe. She shouldn’t complain, but she did anyway. A good bath was hard to come by, and your ass couldn’t get pregnant.
One exquisite hour later, her skin pruny and pink, Vanth climbed out. The change was remarkable. Her hair was, once again, is normal bright red hue. Her skin was smooth and clean; she'd even taken the time to shave. For just a second she felt like one of the high-end ladies at Gomorrah. It was a feeling she could get used to.
She took a few more minutes to wash her dress and unmentionables in the bathwater, ring them out, and stuff them into the bottom of her pack. She took one of Harrison's cleaner shirts—big enough to cover her to her knees, and pulled it over her head. She pulled the socks over her feet which she stuffed into a worn pair of shoes, and climbed out the bathroom window.
It was an easy climb from the window ledge to the alley, two stories down. She dropped the last ten feet and landed lightly on her feet.
After taking a minute to make sure she was alone, she let out a low whistle. A minute later, a dark form padded silently to her side, The mangy creature was an unholy mix of dog, wolf, and something else she’d never been able to put a finger on. Standing on all fours, it came to her waist. There was no doubt in Vanth’s mind the beast could kill her with one snap of those jaws if it ever got it in its mind to do so.
The snout nuzzled around her pack, but Vanth gave it a playful shrug and a tussle behind the ears before setting off at a good clip out of the alley. Minutes later she nestled in one of the many ruined houses of Westside. She reached into her pack and retrieved one of the Brahmin steaks she’d nabbed from the fridge. She was hungry enough to eat two on her own, but she took the one, tore it in half, and tossed half of it to the dog.
She took the other half and tore off a chunk with her teeth. Savoring a particularly tasty piece of fat, she reached into her pack with her free hand and pulled out the revolver. The silver barrel gleamed softly in the moonlight. Along both sides was etched the word: Killer. The pistol looked ridiculously large in her hand, but then, compared to her everything looked ridiculously large. Still, it felt good in her hand. This one, she’d keep.
She tore another chunk of meat off the steak and tossed the rest of it to Dog, who eyed it as if it were a long-lost lover. In two quick bites it was gone, and Dog looked back, same hopeful expression as before.
“Sheesh," said Vanth, “men. All the same, arent’ you?”
She came to her feet. and headed out into the night. In a couple of hours, someone at the Wrangler would discover Harrison’s fat, decomposing ass, and the Garret’s would be looking to skin her hide. She wanted to be well away from Westside by then.
She plotted the trip out in her mind. A quick trip to the sewers to gather her gear, then to the Fort. She’d trade the caps for food and meds, and head out.
“Dog, time to go.”
The fat man was stronger than he seemed. One meaty hand was pressed between her knees, the other was clamped like a vise on her hip. She was perched on his lap. Not by choice, mind you, the man had caught her mid-stride and sat her here before she was the wiser. Regardless, it was a precarious place to be, no matter how she got there. If the fat bastard decided to roll over, she'd be pinned underneath a sweaty mass of greasy NCR rancher that stunk far worse than any brahmin she'd ever come across. With her luck, he'd die right there on the spot and she'd suffocate underneath his rotting corpse—it wasn't like anyone from the Atomic Wrangler would be stopping by anytime soon, and it wasn't like they'd lift a finger to help her even if they did.
Vanth met the man at The Thorn. She knew a good mark when she saw one, and this fatty was an easy mark. She slipped away, and into something more appropriate, before sliding up next to him. Before he knew it, he was buying her drinks and wondering aloud if the carpet really did match the drapes. After that, it was as easy as shooting radroaches. She lured him away from the Thorn—and Red Lucy's watchful stare--and took him to the Wrangler, a much more comfortable place to earn her living.
She kept him at the tables long enough to make the Garret's happy before coaxing him into the luxury suite. It was a far cry from the lousiest flop on the Strip, but it was a hell of a lot better than her other options. Besides, it came with a complimentary bath, and who could pass that up?
Everything was going according to plan until he got his greasy paws on her hips. It's all about leverage, see? Once a guy's got you by the hips, especially a guy what weighs three times what you do, there ain't a whole lot you can do about it. Leverage, it seems, was never on Vanth’s side.
Vanth twisted around in the fat man's lap, ignoring the stiffening member that pressed up against her ass, and flashed the rancher her most devious grin. She'd practiced this maneuver countless times in front of an old, cracked mirror. There was a trick to it; looking playful yet sexy, making your hair fall in your face just so; wasn't as easy as it looked, and it had to be done properly to have the right affect.
“Mister Harrison,” she began in as sultry a tone as she could muster, “what's the rush? We've got all night.”
His grip tightened. “What's the rush? Heh, I'll tell you, little girl, what's the rush. I've been waiting all night to see that little red cunt of yours, and I aim to see it now.”
fucker
Vanth threw her arms around the man's neck and laughed. “You just can't wait to score yourself a ginger, can you, Mister Harrison?”
Harrison shook his head. “You're a sweet little piece o' tail, and that's no lie.” His hand moved from her hip, up the length of her body, to cup her breast. “Now, time to earn your keep.”
It was just what she expected him to do. In one fluid motion, she was off his lap and out of reach of his grasping, fat fingers. Still, her expression was a perfect mask, wanton and hungry.
“And I can't wait to do just that,” she said while dancing playfully out of his reach. “Unfortunately, you've filled this lil' red-haired whore full o wine, and now she's gotta go.”
Harrison grunted in acknowledgment, and Vanth excused herself to the restroom.
Two minutes later she returned. Harrison was stark naked, a sight she could have gone all day without seeing. She crossed to the cabinet and poured two glasses of whiskey.
The first trick to get a man to do exactly what you want is to not phrase a statement as a question. Questions could be objected too, statements could not.
“Here ya go, Mister Harrison, bottom's up,” she said, handing him the full tumbler.
The second trick is to distract him from the fact that you've just manipulated him into doing exactly that.
Vanth pulled the straps of her dress over her shoulders and let the faded garment pile down around her bare feet. She wasn't wearing anything underneath.
“Well?” she said with a devilish smile.
Harrison sat there, mouth agape, and stared.
“Hot damn,” he said following a lust pause, and downed his whiskey in a single gulp.
Vanth's smile widened, turning predatory. She took two steps forward and shoved him, hard, with both hands. Harrison fell back on the bed, and like a cat she was on top of him.
She looked down at him, from underneath a mass of dingy red hair. “Ready for the fuck of your life, Mister Harrison?”
Harrison nodded, but he looked confused, distant. He began to sweat even more than he already was. Vanth leaned down, so close that their noses almost touched. She could smell the stench of rotting brahmin between his yellowing teeth.
“Somethin' the matter, Mister Harrison?” she asked. “Had a bit too much to drink?” She trailed a finger down his hairy chest, noting with some displeasure that his tits were bigger than her own.
Her eyes flicked back up to his. “Maybe...something you ate?”
He nodded dumbly, and then, with a throaty gasp, passed out.
Vanth sat up, crossing her arms over her chest, not taking her eyes off him.
“Pig,” she said, to no one. Then she slapped him across the face.
He didn't so much as twitch. So she slapped him again, just to make sure.
Satisfied, she climbed down off him and, now that she didn't have a leering fat man trying to play grab-ass with her, took a good long minute to look around. She didn't reach for her clothes, or make move to cover herself. Modesty wasn't something she'd ever been able to afford.
Vanth caught sight of her naked form in a dingy, cracked mirror. She frowned. It was hard to imagine anyone, even a morbidly obese rancher from out west, would actually want to have sex with her. She would never be called voluptuous, she’d never be mistaken for Joana or one of the other ladies from Gomorrah. Her frame fluctuated somewhere between lean and scrawny. Her hips were to bony, her legs were like twigs, which made her knees look knobbly, and her boobs stopped growing when she was fourteen. Worse, all of this was covered in three weeks worth of sweat and grime.
In the adjoining room, a cooling bath awaited a man who was to fat to ever enjoy, and Vanth's skin positively itched with the desire to soak in its soapy embrace. But the whisky, which she'd laced with diluted cazador poison, would wear off soon, at which point he'd wake with the worst hangover he'd ever had in is miserable existence, and no doubt, in an even worse mood. Vanth wanted to be long gone before that happened..
Her attention turned to the safe, which sat next the overloaded bed. As Harrison sawed a steady tune next to her, Vanth set about springing the lock. She'd watched earlier when he secured his valuables inside. She tried to peak at the combination as he set it, but that proved impossible when he put his three-foot wide back to her. Now, she had to do it the old fashioned way.
Pulling a bobby-pin from her hair, she separated the prongs with her teeth and tried to listen for the soft 'click' of a tripped tumbler over the fat man's snores. A few minutes later, the lock sprang open, and she twisted the handle to open the heavy safe door. She sat cross-legged on the floor and peeked inside, where she found a small leather purse filled with more than 250 bottle caps...enough to feed the orphans of Westside for weeks, an old pocket-watch and chain, and two stimpaks. Score!
Vanth gathered the loot in her hands and came to her feet. Something tickled the back of her ear, or, rather, the lack of something. She cocked her head and listened. Then it hit her: lardo had stopped snoring.
She snatched her gaze to the bed, expecting to find him climbing out of it and coming for her in a blind rage. All kinds of other, equally unpleasant thoughts filled the space in the remainder of that heartbeat. Fortunately, at least for her, what she discovered wasn't an awake and enraged Mister Harrison, but an unconscious and quickly turning-purple Mister Harrison.
Huh. Odd.
Had she miscalculated the cazador poison? Or was he just especially susceptible to it? Of course, she'd never tried this particular recipe before, but in theory it should have worked just fine. In theory, at least.
Harrison was now turning a dangerous shade of purple, and his extremities were swelling to freakish proportions; even his cock was purple and swollen.
Vanth took a step toward him and stopped. Was he really worth saving, even if she could? Even if she could save him, which she doubted, under the circumstances, what would she do then?
Vanth chewed her lip. She asked herself the one question that always got her moving when she faced a moral dilemma. What will let me sleep well tonight?. That decided it, and she sprang into action.
Dropping everything but one of the stimpaks, she leaped on the bed and straddled his massive girth. Without hesitation, she pulled the cap off the pak and plunged the needle directly into his heart. The precious fluids inside quickly emptied into his chest. Harrison gasped, his eyes, red and watery, shot open and transfixed on Vanth.
Just as quickly, he expired, a fact accentuated by the ripe stench of his voided bowels.
Vanth shrugged. She'd done what she could, there was no sense in feeling bad about it now. She climbed down off him and covered the lower half of the bed with the blankets in a vain attempt to contain the stench. She gathered her things and put them in the bathroom, then she turned back to what remained of Harrison's goods. She found another fifty caps in his clothes, a clean pair of socks, and some eyeglasses that she was positive were good for something. On the nightstand sat his revolver, a shiny .357 with a walnut finish. She took it, the belt holster, and all the ammo. They weren't much use to her, but she could always use them for trade. Lastly, she emptied the complimentary food from the fridge into her pack.
Since she was no longer in a hurry, she set a pot of water to boil and used it to re-heat the bathwater. Once it was piping hot, she gingerly lowered herself into it. The experience was better than sex. It always was. Okay, maybe that was exaggeration. Not much could beat a good romp with Sunny Smiles, but a free bath at the Wranger was something to brag about.
See, the Wrangler was one of the few places in Westside with running water, one of the few places outside the Strip you could get a hot bath period, and James Garret never let the girls bathe for free. Usually the price was letting him stick his pecker up your tailpipe. She shouldn’t complain, but she did anyway. A good bath was hard to come by, and your ass couldn’t get pregnant.
One exquisite hour later, her skin pruny and pink, Vanth climbed out. The change was remarkable. Her hair was, once again, is normal bright red hue. Her skin was smooth and clean; she'd even taken the time to shave. For just a second she felt like one of the high-end ladies at Gomorrah. It was a feeling she could get used to.
She took a few more minutes to wash her dress and unmentionables in the bathwater, ring them out, and stuff them into the bottom of her pack. She took one of Harrison's cleaner shirts—big enough to cover her to her knees, and pulled it over her head. She pulled the socks over her feet which she stuffed into a worn pair of shoes, and climbed out the bathroom window.
It was an easy climb from the window ledge to the alley, two stories down. She dropped the last ten feet and landed lightly on her feet.
After taking a minute to make sure she was alone, she let out a low whistle. A minute later, a dark form padded silently to her side, The mangy creature was an unholy mix of dog, wolf, and something else she’d never been able to put a finger on. Standing on all fours, it came to her waist. There was no doubt in Vanth’s mind the beast could kill her with one snap of those jaws if it ever got it in its mind to do so.
The snout nuzzled around her pack, but Vanth gave it a playful shrug and a tussle behind the ears before setting off at a good clip out of the alley. Minutes later she nestled in one of the many ruined houses of Westside. She reached into her pack and retrieved one of the Brahmin steaks she’d nabbed from the fridge. She was hungry enough to eat two on her own, but she took the one, tore it in half, and tossed half of it to the dog.
She took the other half and tore off a chunk with her teeth. Savoring a particularly tasty piece of fat, she reached into her pack with her free hand and pulled out the revolver. The silver barrel gleamed softly in the moonlight. Along both sides was etched the word: Killer. The pistol looked ridiculously large in her hand, but then, compared to her everything looked ridiculously large. Still, it felt good in her hand. This one, she’d keep.
She tore another chunk of meat off the steak and tossed the rest of it to Dog, who eyed it as if it were a long-lost lover. In two quick bites it was gone, and Dog looked back, same hopeful expression as before.
“Sheesh," said Vanth, “men. All the same, arent’ you?”
She came to her feet. and headed out into the night. In a couple of hours, someone at the Wrangler would discover Harrison’s fat, decomposing ass, and the Garret’s would be looking to skin her hide. She wanted to be well away from Westside by then.
She plotted the trip out in her mind. A quick trip to the sewers to gather her gear, then to the Fort. She’d trade the caps for food and meds, and head out.
“Dog, time to go.”
Avellan13
WINNING!!
- Joined
- Feb 23, 2011
- Posts
- 3,850
NAME: Tyler Maximus
AGE: 19
PERSONALITY: Quiet and aloof, Tyler doesn't like being the center of attention. He has few friends, and doesn't make friends easily, but he has allies and that's enough for him. Tyler like to think things through, never rushing into danger. He has a fascination for Pre-War culture and items, and that's the reason for joining the Enclave.
APPEARANCE: 5'11" and 154 lb. Pale skin, blue eyes, short straight black hair. He doesn't have much muscle on him, but he's quick and alert.
HISTORY: Tyler grew up in a vault 36 and lived there until he was 16 years old. Then a riot happened, people wanting to escape the vault after hearing a transmission from the outside world. After the civil war in the vault, Tyler was the only survivor. Taking all nessessary supplies, he headed out into the outside world. Life was difficult, but after a year, he met a group called the Enclave. Learning that they were the American Government, Tyler quickly joined. After two years of traveling west, with them and rising in rank, he finally found that they were headed to a place called New Vegas, where the Enclave could hope to find a sanctuary and a place to bring America back to what it was and eventually, unite humanity and save it.
Str 6 Per 7 End 6 Cha 3 Int 7 Agi 3 Luck 6
TAGS: Energy Weapons, Science, Repair, Medicine
EQUIPMENT: Enclave Power Armorial, Gauss Rifle, Laser Pistol, Vault 36 outfit, Nuka-Cola (5), Pip-Boy 3000, Food, Ammo, Pre-War money.
PERKS: Cyborg, Power Armor Training, Ferocious Loyalty, Meltdown
REPUTATION: No much but Vilified by Brotherhood of Steel and possibly Vilified by NCR.
KARMA: Neutral (close to evil)
AGE: 19
PERSONALITY: Quiet and aloof, Tyler doesn't like being the center of attention. He has few friends, and doesn't make friends easily, but he has allies and that's enough for him. Tyler like to think things through, never rushing into danger. He has a fascination for Pre-War culture and items, and that's the reason for joining the Enclave.
APPEARANCE: 5'11" and 154 lb. Pale skin, blue eyes, short straight black hair. He doesn't have much muscle on him, but he's quick and alert.
HISTORY: Tyler grew up in a vault 36 and lived there until he was 16 years old. Then a riot happened, people wanting to escape the vault after hearing a transmission from the outside world. After the civil war in the vault, Tyler was the only survivor. Taking all nessessary supplies, he headed out into the outside world. Life was difficult, but after a year, he met a group called the Enclave. Learning that they were the American Government, Tyler quickly joined. After two years of traveling west, with them and rising in rank, he finally found that they were headed to a place called New Vegas, where the Enclave could hope to find a sanctuary and a place to bring America back to what it was and eventually, unite humanity and save it.
Str 6 Per 7 End 6 Cha 3 Int 7 Agi 3 Luck 6
TAGS: Energy Weapons, Science, Repair, Medicine
EQUIPMENT: Enclave Power Armorial, Gauss Rifle, Laser Pistol, Vault 36 outfit, Nuka-Cola (5), Pip-Boy 3000, Food, Ammo, Pre-War money.
PERKS: Cyborg, Power Armor Training, Ferocious Loyalty, Meltdown
REPUTATION: No much but Vilified by Brotherhood of Steel and possibly Vilified by NCR.
KARMA: Neutral (close to evil)
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cmky
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Jun 2, 2011
- Posts
- 144
Pah...don't get your panties in a bundle!
ahem....sorry, sorta slipped into Vanth's role there.
I asked before posting. The story isn't directly connected to the main plot, it's just chance for me to develop my character and for you guys to get a feel for her. Sorta like a prelude. I'm sure he'd let you do the same, and it'd be fun to read a little backstory!
ahem....sorry, sorta slipped into Vanth's role there.
I asked before posting. The story isn't directly connected to the main plot, it's just chance for me to develop my character and for you guys to get a feel for her. Sorta like a prelude. I'm sure he'd let you do the same, and it'd be fun to read a little backstory!
Avellan13
WINNING!!
- Joined
- Feb 23, 2011
- Posts
- 3,850
Ahh... ok just wondering.
The_Spectre
Lonely Angel
- Joined
- Aug 21, 2009
- Posts
- 6,225
Name: Victor Garcia
Age: 25
Personality: Despite harsh conditions, Victor is rather easy going, not taking thing as serious as well as being quite the talker. While talking to people is rather simple to him, he wouldn’t consider many of those he meets on his travels friends. Victor is more prone to talking his way out of trouble rather than simply kill, but he will defend himself if provoked or if he’s cheated out of caps.
Appearance: Athletic build (6 foot even, 190 lbs). lightly tanned skin, semi long black hair and dark brown eyes.
History: Raised by his grandfather as a child in Rivet City, Victor only knew life within the Capital Wasteland. His grandfather claimed that he once a security guard within Vault 76 and that they once lived inside. Victor doubted this for many years until he was given a Pip-boy for his 10th birthday. Much of Victor’s personality could be a result of his grandfather’s as he always seemed in good spirits saying that life was too short to be mopping around and to seize the day. Victor stood by those word even after his grandfathers death. With Victor at the age of 19, he set of to explore the wasteland. Years of traveling the Capital helped him hone his skills, meet new interesting people and even a few enemies, particularly the infamous Talon Company. Now he sets off for New Vegas to see what more there is to the world.
Str 6 Per 5 End 6 Cha 7 Int 5 Agi 5 Luck 7
Tags:Small Guns, Speech, Barter, Melee Weapons
Equipment: Regulator duster, .45 pistol, Sniper Rifle, switch blade, pip-boy 3000, 1 bottled water, 2 Nuka Cola, 1 Rad-away, 1 Nuka Cola Quantum.
Perks: Sniper, Gunslinger, Animal Friend (animals won’t attack unless provoked)
Status: As he is new to New Vegas, so he is unknown.
Age: 25
Personality: Despite harsh conditions, Victor is rather easy going, not taking thing as serious as well as being quite the talker. While talking to people is rather simple to him, he wouldn’t consider many of those he meets on his travels friends. Victor is more prone to talking his way out of trouble rather than simply kill, but he will defend himself if provoked or if he’s cheated out of caps.
Appearance: Athletic build (6 foot even, 190 lbs). lightly tanned skin, semi long black hair and dark brown eyes.
History: Raised by his grandfather as a child in Rivet City, Victor only knew life within the Capital Wasteland. His grandfather claimed that he once a security guard within Vault 76 and that they once lived inside. Victor doubted this for many years until he was given a Pip-boy for his 10th birthday. Much of Victor’s personality could be a result of his grandfather’s as he always seemed in good spirits saying that life was too short to be mopping around and to seize the day. Victor stood by those word even after his grandfathers death. With Victor at the age of 19, he set of to explore the wasteland. Years of traveling the Capital helped him hone his skills, meet new interesting people and even a few enemies, particularly the infamous Talon Company. Now he sets off for New Vegas to see what more there is to the world.
Str 6 Per 5 End 6 Cha 7 Int 5 Agi 5 Luck 7
Tags:Small Guns, Speech, Barter, Melee Weapons
Equipment: Regulator duster, .45 pistol, Sniper Rifle, switch blade, pip-boy 3000, 1 bottled water, 2 Nuka Cola, 1 Rad-away, 1 Nuka Cola Quantum.
Perks: Sniper, Gunslinger, Animal Friend (animals won’t attack unless provoked)
Status: As he is new to New Vegas, so he is unknown.
Last edited:
Lansfirestar
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2008
- Posts
- 1,150
we are just waiting for 2 more people and then i'll post the IC feel free to post your prelude
feel free to post your prelude
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I PMed about this, but I until I got some Youtube and Wiki links, never even heard of this. I want to play it now though.
I can do a Girl in G-String with a Gun.
(Like I replied to the PM, I'd leave the high heeled boots for the bedroom though....) (Youtube Angel Mod(Cute Ass) video...)
Unfortunately I do not know enough to be sure of making a worthy RP contribution... Sorry guys.
-emi
I can do a Girl in G-String with a Gun.
(Like I replied to the PM, I'd leave the high heeled boots for the bedroom though....) (Youtube Angel Mod(Cute Ass) video...)Unfortunately I do not know enough to be sure of making a worthy RP contribution... Sorry guys.
-emi
Lansfirestar
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2008
- Posts
- 1,150
fallout.wikia.com
that's a good link
that's a good link
Lansfirestar
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2008
- Posts
- 1,150
Sorry for the delay...
Lansfirestar
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2008
- Posts
- 1,150
Yes, real life is just hectic for me. give me a couple more days XD I hate exams
Pennyblossom69
Virgin
- Joined
- Apr 21, 2012
- Posts
- 3
I'd be interested... and I'm a girl so that helps.
Wandering kind of salesman deal... think Doc Hoff.
Don't like staying in one place too long, random stuff to sell etc...
Wandering kind of salesman deal... think Doc Hoff.
Don't like staying in one place too long, random stuff to sell etc...
Time I posted my character as the Ranger:
NAME: No one knows, people refer to him as "The Ranger", "Ranger or simply "R".
AGE: Even he doesn't know, though many suggest he's between 19-25.
APPEARANCE: Ranger stands a towering 6'8", his shoulders a solid two feet apart and his overall build is brutish. Though few ever see him without his Ranger helmet on, he has tightly cropped dark brown hair, blue eyes and a dusting of facial hair around his jaw. His arms and head are tanned, the only real places that get any sun given he's usually in full armour or in a bunk. He cut off the arms of his NCR Ranger uniform early in his tours of the Mojave and this became a god choice when his tours started to extend around other areas of America.
PERSONALITY: Ranger is a quiet, reclusive member of the NCR's Ranger Battalion. He rarely talks to anyone besides those giving him orders or traveling merchants on whom he relies during his operations in the field. Ranger only ever works alone, sticking to the belief that others increase his chance of being discovered, its just one more person to look after and he can concentrate better. He's headstrong but very cool tempered, he's calculating and methodic and incredibly precise in his actions. To those who know him on any personal level, however, he's also kind, though he hides many secrets and has seen many things and these make him a reclusive figure.
HISTORY: Ranger was born in Denver, a city which caught a glancing impact during the Great War given the guidance on the weapon destined for Denver misfired. The city was still badly damaged, however and radiation fuelled the mutations and disfigurements of both man and beast. The lower streets of Denver are home to thousands of dogs who roam the streets in blood thirsty packs, searching for any food to be found. They are also the hunting grounds of a myriad of other dangerous creatures, forcing any civilians there to live atop the skyscrapers that dot the city. Early in the NCR's history, they took over Denver and forced the populace to work in manual labour, as well as to scour the city for any pre-war tech. Ranger, having never known anything but the heights of the buildings, simply did as he was told.
When he was ten, a large group of mutants broke through the barricades that blocked the stairwells and elevator shafts to the ground floor. He took up arms in defense of his tower, losing his parents, brother and sister in the following battle, along with most of his friends. Several NCR guardsmen noted his combat prowess and at their suggestion, Ranger became one of the many tower-guards who picked off the enemy creatures below. As a result, Ranger quickly made a name for himself as the finest marksman in the NCR, renowned for his accuracy. Some time later an NCR Officer immediately recruited him into the ranks of the Rangers, a title never before given to a seventeen year old. Some years later, he was rotated throughout much of the Souther and Eastern States, his marksmanship skills netted him mission after mission disposing of tribal leaders, gang members and mutants that made the jobs of some particularly difficult.
During the First War for the Hoover Dam, Ranger took up a position on the Western Bastion, laying down fire and covering his comrades. NCR guardsmen reported entire squads turning tail when the Officers were shot from some unknown sniper. This was Ranger's first major encounter with Ceaser's Legion, but afterwards they'd become some of his primary targets.
Going on some months later, Ranger was also present at the final battle, being given the honour of hoisting the NCR flag atop the smoking ruins of Ceaser's Camp. He watched as the Courier, another who'd made a name for himself, was paraded.
After that, Ranger maintained a few stops now and again within the Mojave, still keeping in tough with some of the traveling merchants whom he'd often escort through more tribal States.
TAGS & PERKS:
Small Guns, Melee Weapons, Explosives and Repair.
Sniper, Gunslinger, Commando, Survivalist.
STATUS: Legendary among the civilians and soldiers of the NCR, among settlers within many States and Territories.
NAME: No one knows, people refer to him as "The Ranger", "Ranger or simply "R".
AGE: Even he doesn't know, though many suggest he's between 19-25.
APPEARANCE: Ranger stands a towering 6'8", his shoulders a solid two feet apart and his overall build is brutish. Though few ever see him without his Ranger helmet on, he has tightly cropped dark brown hair, blue eyes and a dusting of facial hair around his jaw. His arms and head are tanned, the only real places that get any sun given he's usually in full armour or in a bunk. He cut off the arms of his NCR Ranger uniform early in his tours of the Mojave and this became a god choice when his tours started to extend around other areas of America.
PERSONALITY: Ranger is a quiet, reclusive member of the NCR's Ranger Battalion. He rarely talks to anyone besides those giving him orders or traveling merchants on whom he relies during his operations in the field. Ranger only ever works alone, sticking to the belief that others increase his chance of being discovered, its just one more person to look after and he can concentrate better. He's headstrong but very cool tempered, he's calculating and methodic and incredibly precise in his actions. To those who know him on any personal level, however, he's also kind, though he hides many secrets and has seen many things and these make him a reclusive figure.
HISTORY: Ranger was born in Denver, a city which caught a glancing impact during the Great War given the guidance on the weapon destined for Denver misfired. The city was still badly damaged, however and radiation fuelled the mutations and disfigurements of both man and beast. The lower streets of Denver are home to thousands of dogs who roam the streets in blood thirsty packs, searching for any food to be found. They are also the hunting grounds of a myriad of other dangerous creatures, forcing any civilians there to live atop the skyscrapers that dot the city. Early in the NCR's history, they took over Denver and forced the populace to work in manual labour, as well as to scour the city for any pre-war tech. Ranger, having never known anything but the heights of the buildings, simply did as he was told.
When he was ten, a large group of mutants broke through the barricades that blocked the stairwells and elevator shafts to the ground floor. He took up arms in defense of his tower, losing his parents, brother and sister in the following battle, along with most of his friends. Several NCR guardsmen noted his combat prowess and at their suggestion, Ranger became one of the many tower-guards who picked off the enemy creatures below. As a result, Ranger quickly made a name for himself as the finest marksman in the NCR, renowned for his accuracy. Some time later an NCR Officer immediately recruited him into the ranks of the Rangers, a title never before given to a seventeen year old. Some years later, he was rotated throughout much of the Souther and Eastern States, his marksmanship skills netted him mission after mission disposing of tribal leaders, gang members and mutants that made the jobs of some particularly difficult.
During the First War for the Hoover Dam, Ranger took up a position on the Western Bastion, laying down fire and covering his comrades. NCR guardsmen reported entire squads turning tail when the Officers were shot from some unknown sniper. This was Ranger's first major encounter with Ceaser's Legion, but afterwards they'd become some of his primary targets.
Going on some months later, Ranger was also present at the final battle, being given the honour of hoisting the NCR flag atop the smoking ruins of Ceaser's Camp. He watched as the Courier, another who'd made a name for himself, was paraded.
After that, Ranger maintained a few stops now and again within the Mojave, still keeping in tough with some of the traveling merchants whom he'd often escort through more tribal States.
TAGS & PERKS:
Small Guns, Melee Weapons, Explosives and Repair.
Sniper, Gunslinger, Commando, Survivalist.
STATUS: Legendary among the civilians and soldiers of the NCR, among settlers within many States and Territories.
