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Post by Zelus on Sept 22, 2014 16:20:16 GMT -5
Outside the Crimson Caravan Headquarters
Mojave Wasteland
Early Morning
Just outside of the Crimson Caravan headquarters workers and the caravan guards were busy preparing for the trip ahead. They were working on preparing four Brahmin and attaching them in pairs of two to separate car trailers. The trailers were stacked with a few crates, some locked and others just bound. Presumably the locked crates were the contract, and the others were just supplies for the journey. A mail bag was tossed in at the very end, for the families of Crimson Caravan employees. It was then the Crimson Caravan workers went to the pile of nearby tarp and began to attach it to the trailers.
Letting the workers do their thing, the guards were stood talking amongst themselves about the trip. It was clear that they were new, and some had only made the trip a few times. Listening close to their conversations would’ve made the listener aware that Gerald had not been found when the others had been woken, and no one was quite sure where he was.
The tarp was soon pulled over the trailers and the goods were covered, hidden away from the glare of the Mojave sun. They were almost ready to go; they just needed their leader now.
It was then the figure of Moore appeared, coming around the corner. He’d seemingly just come from Freeside. He was drinking some water as he arrived, a caravan pack on his waist, stamped with the NCR logo.
“Ah ha, I see we’re ready to go then” the bearded caravanner chuckled. He placed the cap back on his water bottle, and stored it in his bag before walking closer. “I was just at the fort… got us some more anti-venom, the bosses never give us enough…” he sighed, before shaking his head and looking at the workers, who gave a wave. The workers then turned around and headed back inside the walls. Moore walked over, checking the trailers and then pulled out his map and laid it across the tarp on one of the trailers.
“Okay gang. Gather ‘round. We can introduce ourselves on the road. We need to get moving as soon as possible. I figured I’d show you the route. They said we’re supposed to get there in a week, but I don’t think that’s possible. Grudgingly they’ve given us an extra four days of wiggle room. We’ve gotta cover just over a hundred and fifty miles in that time. We’ve got a few planned stops. We’ve gotta get to Primm by tomorrow night. The outpost the next. Then we’re on the difficult stretch until we hit Baker, and then finally to Hub. Thanks to the NCR patrols and of course those walking tin can Brotherhood, we can head straight down the Long 15 from Camp McCarran… So with that said… Any questions kids?” As Moore explained their route, he pointed it out on their map.
It would take them a while, Moore had done this journey countless numbers of times. The trailers would slow the Brahmin down, and the Brahmin slowed the people down. No way would they make it in a week. Maybe if they were in Primm. But they weren’t. They were all the way up near New Vegas. He had to admit one thing though. With the patrols, their journey was cut an awful lot shorter. Had the Long 15 around Vegas not been patrolled by NCR and Brotherhood, they’d have had to go down past Novac and Searchlight. That’d have extended their trip some forty odd miles. He did miss the trading post. He never had a good reason to go there anymore, and it was pretty out of the way. Not to mention the Legion raiding parties. They wouldn’t have much trouble with that on their route… Maybe the odd fiend, viper or jackal, but they were little more than just fragmented drug addled hobos. Their biggest issue was the creatures. Cazadores sometimes found their way on to the I-15. They were the biggest danger, which is why he’d grabbed extra anti-venom.
After allowing the group to get a good look at his map, he rolled it away and packed it inside his bag, and then began leaning against the trailer, looking around at the various guards and waiting for their questions. |
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Post by RealmReaver on Sept 22, 2014 19:13:25 GMT -5
Alex seemed to be pretty busy, checking over his own gear for the journey. He started to go through his mental checklist.
Hunting rifle? Check.
.32 Caliber revolver? Check.
Trusty combat knife? Check.
Ammunition? Uhuh.
Water? Got it.
His face seemed to be pretty hidden under the shade from his hat, hiding his impatient look. It's not like caravan jobs were new to him or anything, He done them plenty of times. He'd brag about killing Cazadors but, truth be told he never killed one before, a few close calls but other then that, nothing. He pulled back his hunting rifles bolt, before putting it back in its original position with a clink. "Ah got one for ya ol' timer." he said as he slung his hunting rifle over his left shoulder, the worn leather strap of the rifle barely holding together.
"Ya ain' gon' pass out on this trip are ya?" He gave an amused chuckle at his own 'joke', though many may find it distasteful or even offensive. He began inspecting over his .32, tipping the rim of his hat back, exposing his deep green eyes and rather grizzled face, his lips showing a thin smirk as he shifted his eyes towards Moore, his right brow cocking back. "...ah'm kiddin'... How much ya reckon we're gonna get paid for this?"
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Post by Endicott on Sept 23, 2014 11:44:50 GMT -5
John Haywood had risen at dawn, filled with childish anticipation of the upcoming trip. Unlike all the other tired, grizzled and beaten workers, he was filled with energy and could barely contain himself (which annoyed some of the more cynical employees, but Haywood couldn't really detect that). His perfect day was ruined, however, halfway through sloppily eating his breakfast out of a tin. Old Man Moore, who had replaced the parent-figure in his life ever since his passed away, had told him to remember to take something with him, but John couldn't remember what it was. His face was contorted and stress lines appeared on his forehead as he paced up and down, his rusty tin of food on it's side.
"I-if Misser' Moore fin's out out that I's forgotten, h-he... he gon' be dispointed' with me again! Ah' tried to 'member, bu' I just can't!"
The other workers chuckled behind his back as he paced frantically, trying to remember. But to John, this was of the utmost urgency. He pushed open the door in panic, running over to the bunkhouse, like a bear stalking it's prey. His meaty paw turned the handle, and he went inside. It was sparsely decorated, with very little possessions out for all to see, most of them kept hidden away like the loneliness felt by the drifting farm hands. Tears rolled down his face as he tore open his footlocker like a can. Inside was a bunch of crude "sculptures" made of metal wiring, several pieces of junk and a sledgehammer. And then, he remembered.
"...now, John, don't forget to bring your hammer with you. I know you ain't no good with a gun, and I know you don't like hurting things, but l-15's dangerous, and if we get into any rough stuff your fists just won't do. Now, get some rest, it's gonna' be a long day tomorrow..."
Old Man Moore's words echo'd through his mind as he grabbed the hammer gloriously, dragging it across the floor and outside. He was a little late by the time he'd joined the men out by the gate, but he got there in time. He was just happy he didn't disappoint Mr. Moore. Gormlessly, he stood and listened to Old Man Moore, trying to remember every little detail in his words.
"So with that said… Any questions kids?”
John couldn't contain himself, and his hand shot up in the air, and before Moore even had a chance to say anything, John began to speak.
"M-misser' Moore, sur', i-is it gonna' be danjerus'?", he uttered, a little nervous just at the thought of danger or combat.
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Post by Zelus on Sept 23, 2014 13:18:00 GMT -5
Moore chuckled at Alex’s joke, rubbing his almost bald head. “Haha. Well I’m old, but I aint dead yet. ‘till I am, I’m gonna be fitter than any of you young’uns.” Chuckling more, Moore pushed his way off the trailer, and began to walk to the front of the caravan. He absent-mindedly adjusted the strap for his repeater and then looked back at the new guy as he asked his actual question.
“Probably around seven or eight hundred caps. Aint entirely sure. I was told it would be substantial though. Boss says the money’s good. And you’re getting food and water for the entire trip. So if that aint good enough. Ya’ll can leave. But this is an adventure!” Moore said loudly hopping about like a giddy school kid. In truth, he hadn’t been given a precise number, but he trusted the boss’s word. Not to mention, their cargo was pretty important, so they’d pay well… even if he didn’t exactly know what it was. He also wanted to visit Hub. He was getting old, and he knew it’d only be a couple of years before he died. He had to make the trips count and enjoy them whilst they lasted. At least he had the road, that’s all that mattered. Maybe he’d even catch wind of his kids whilst there.
It was then John’s turn to ask his question, and Moore smiled slowly. “Ah, yeah, just a bit John. Like most of the wasteland, but if we stick together and keep moving we should be alright. Shout if you see anything. Us gunners will do most of the shooting. Oh. And one golden rule. Though I doubt this’ll happen, if ya see a deathclaw go absolutely silent and try to hide. Abandon the caravan, we can come back and get it. There’s no point in risking your life for the caravan.”
Now Moore was at the front of the caravan. The other guards gathered around the Brahmin, and some of them took the reins. “Now, if there aren’t any more questions, let’s get going!” Moore called, before waving his hand in the air beckoning them to follow him. Moore began walking immediately followed by the Caravan guards and the Brahmin. They’d pass by the Gun Runners, and then follow the walls of New Vegas along, before passing by McCarran to get onto the Long 15. Ideally they’d be there in the next five hours, around mid-day.
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Post by RealmReaver on Sept 23, 2014 14:37:24 GMT -5
Alex let out a soft grunt, It was time to hit the road. He took his rifle from his shoulder, resting the top of the barrel on his right shoulder, holding it at the stock, staying at the rear of the caravan. He pulled the scarf around his neck over his nose and mouth, and silently began to make assessments on his 'team' if you could call them that now. First, he set his eyes on The rather... large fellow armed with a hammer.
'Looks as strong as a deathclaw... But he seems a lil'... off.A few bolts short of a protectron perhaps? Eh' He thought to himself, he then cocked back his brow, No gun? How peculiar. Well, needless to say if they needed to take down a Deathclaw, he'd be the man to do it... or he'd make a decent meal for the reptile bastards, or whatever they were. Seriously, the guy looked like a super mutant minus the green skin, and that being said Alex did Not want to get into a fight with the guy.
He shifted his gaze away from the hulking mass of muscle with a soft sigh, before shifting his gaze over to Moore. This old timer wasn't like the others he met on his journey, He still had some spirit in him, and maybe a little fight too. He seemed to have more brains then most around this caravan, Which Alex admired somewhat. He just hoped this guy wasn't gonna be a liability.
'...Least he's smart. That otta keep him from gettin' blasted.' Alex thought, chuckling lightly to himself before shifting his gaze off towards the direction of the sun. He sure as hell didn't wanna get caught out in the middle of nowhere in the wasteland, though it was likely.
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Post by Endicott on Sept 23, 2014 16:08:00 GMT -5
John felt a little uneasy at the thought of danger or combat, even more so at both together. Never the less, he followed suit behind the other guards, dragging the sledgehammer behind him. Noticing a new face, he approached Alex as they walked and began to make conversation with him, the sound of his hammer dragging making it hard to hear at some points.
"Hey dur'. Ah' ain't seen yew' work'n' 'round's here, so's yew' mus' be wun' dem new fellas'. Wh-wha' yer' name? I'm John by da' way, J-John Haywood..."
They continued to walk as he spoke, and as Alex answered John listened intently with an almost disturbing but friendly grin on his face. John then asked the question he asked to all newcomers...
"Are's yew' 'fraid of Defcloars'? P-people always say that I loo' like I coul' "take down' a defcloar' or a doz-zen", w-whatever that means, but they sc-scare me so.. so much..."
Instinctively, like an animal, he shivered at the thought of something as horrifying as a deathclaw. The hammer dragged and the caravan moved, the desert heat beginning to sink in. John then remembered he'd forgotten to pack his water bottle, and his heart sank. Again, he turned to Alex.
"Hey, di' yew' bring' any w-water with yew'? I get awful hawt', and I... I lef's mine...".
The air felt fine for the moment, but sweat poured down his face as they walked and walked. The hammer screeched, and the ground almost shook with every step John took.
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Post by Zelus on Sept 24, 2014 13:04:48 GMT -5
“John, there’s water in the caravan supplies. If you want a bottle, just open the tarp a bit a get a bottle.” Moore called as he walked head of the group. The other caravan guards beyond Alex and John walked besides them, fairly relaxed but marching nonetheless.
They were passing the compound that belonged to the Gunrunners, and Moore took a moment to look over. He hadn’t known anyone to have been inside, beyond the various Gunrunner guards. Even then they didn’t like the company, for whatever reason (competition he guessed). It wasn’t a hostile grudge though, so Moore was happy to stroll by with his men. He knew some of their actual runners though; he’d met a few on his trips. Good guys, even if they were working for the ‘enemy’. Breathing out a bit, Moore continued on.
In the distance, there was the sound of gunshots. Though it wasn’t unusual for such a sound, every step they took, they got closer and closer to the sound. Though Moore didn’t speed up or slow down, he removed his cowboy repeater and kept moving. They past a building and as they did so, they saw a minor battle quite a bit ahead of them. They could see two large giant ‘soldier’ ants biting at a heavily wounded man nearby another corpse laid in the dirt. He too was heavily wounded, but judging from the amount of blood and his lack of movement, it was a safe bet he was dead. As Moore realised this, he sped up a little, though it was in vain. The remaining guy fell to the ground and the giant ants began eating him.
“Oh those poor fellas…” Moore spoke, breathing a heavy sigh. “Newbie, take John with ya… Might as well make sure those ants aren’t gonna hurt anyone else now.”
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Post by RealmReaver on Sept 24, 2014 14:56:39 GMT -5
Alex turned his head to the growing sound of, what seemed to be metal dragging against the floor. He was rather taken back as the giant hulk of a man stood next to him, but kept his composure, raising his brow. He turned away, his sharp gaze peering around the rest of the caravan.
"Alex... Alex Kenneth McFarland... Nice ta meetcha John." His tone seemed rather flat, he was rather busy keeping his eyes out for trouble, which was going to happen sooner or later. He looked towards the mans grin, cocking back his brow and keeping a neutral face.
'Christ the guy looks like a damn smilin' mad man... Good for him.' He thought. He then let out a soft 'hah' at his question, a thin grin from underneath his scarf. "There are only two things that scare me; Ferals an' angry women. Ferals I can deal with but the scold of a g'al, well..." He gave a slight chuckle, shaking his head.
"So, no, I aint bothered by a few giant lizards." He said, though perhaps stretching the truth slightly. He glanced at John again, cocking back his right brow once more. "I uhh... Kinda need it-" His sentence was interrupted (Thankfully) by more. He then too heard the gunshots, taking his rifle in both his hands and readying himself
It was quite a grotesque scene up ahead, Though nothing Alex hadn't seen before in this hellish landscape he called home. He approached Moore, standing next to him, watching the scene. "Righ'... John! Two minutes! We're gonna crack some bug heads." Alex said, readying his rifle and kneeling down, watching the ants maul the poor bastards.
"If these ants get the better of me... Tell the ladies at the Wrangler that I'm sorry for all the I.O.U's..." He gave a chuckle, waiting for his large companion. Once John arrived, he'd stand up and walk slowly towards the ants, rifle raised.
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Post by Endicott on Sept 26, 2014 12:59:07 GMT -5
John walked, sweat dripping down his huge ape-like forehead, his hammer still scraping the ground with an ear-piercing shriek every second it did. As soon as he heard about there being water under the tarp, he practically tore it off, grabbed a bottle and down it within seconds, panting like a thirsty dog. It was refreshing, and audibly so. They continued to traverse the path, the asphalt desert seeming to stretch on for miles. Up ahead, there was a scene that John flinched at seeing. A dead man, bleeding everywhere, and an injured one fending off two gigantic ants. It was nothing short of a nightmare for the childish mind of John.
“Newbie, take John with ya… Might as well make sure those ants aren’t gonna hurt anyone else now.”
John's jaw dropped in shock, as well as fright.
"Mis-misser' Moore do ah' hef' ta' hurt 'em'?"
Moore simply seemed to nod, and John had been confronted with this same scenario before. It didn't make it any easier. Slowly, but surely, he approached the feasting ants and swung his sledgehammer down right onto the top of one of their heads. As he was pulling it out, terror in his eyes, the other approached him and gave him a small bite on the leg, but John hobbled away in time and let one of the other men shoot it in the head. A little shock up, John froze for a moment...
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Post by Zelus on Sept 28, 2014 18:50:39 GMT -5
“I’ll make sure to pay them with the money you would’ve gotten from this trip.” Moore smirked a bit at Alex, as he continued to walk with the Caravans, making sure to keep the group moving. Sure they were heading directly towards the ants, but he knew that Alex and John would’ve dealt with the creatures before they got there… right?
Just in case they didn’t, he had his repeater out with the safety off. He might not’ve been as fast as he used to be, but his eyes were still good. If it came to it, he could snipe the ants. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to. He had hoped John would take the initiative in this matter, as he’d need to live on his own once Moore himself kicked the bucket. It wasn’t too long now, not in comparison to the years John should have left. Moore watched John as he drank the water. Wasn’t the best idea to do that… Water was precious in the wasteland, especially on a trip this long. Though they’d get refills along the way, water was a finite resource and no one wanted to be caught short out in the wilderness. Moore had been there and done that. Hell, he’d been so thirsty sometimes that he’d consider drinking the cactus juice. Bad idea that, baaaad idea.
When John asked him whether he had to hurt the ants, Moore sighed. “Yes boy, ya do. Out here it’s you or them. Ya can’t hesitate or those thing’s gonna getcha like it got those boys.” Moore sighed at the boy’s childish ways. He wondered if he was a little slow… Maybe the Follower’s should’ve had a look at him. He’d heard that lady in the clinic took pity on the dumb, offered a discount on an implant… whether that was true or not, Moore wasn’t entirely sure. Wouldn’t hurt to ask when they got back, he supposed.
By now, John and Alex were nearing the ants. Moore watched intently, waiting to see what John would do. He grinned a bit in pride, as he crushed one of the ant’s head with the hammer. His face wasn’t going to stay like that as John quickly managed to get himself bitten by the ant. Though he cared for the kid, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes a bit. Ants were the least of their worries, an injury this early in the game could put them all, namely John at risk, particularly if he was bleeding.
(Sorry this took so long, got a bit distracted with this weekend)
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Post by RealmReaver on Oct 2, 2014 15:44:09 GMT -5
Alex moved up with John, Rifle leveled on the head of one of the ants. As John moved into crush the poor insects head, Alex stopped, crouched down and fired towards the enemy. The .32 round entering through the creatures eye and exiting through the other side, a spray of green blood over the ground. With skilled precision and speed, Alex would pull back the bolt, rearming his rifle and aiming towards ant that had fallen.
Alex would grunt, looking at John who seemed to have frozen for but a moment. He sighed, slinging his rifle over his back and drawing his revolver, pulling back the hammer and moving up towards John.
"John! Ya a'ight?" He called out, standing next to him, weapon drawn as he examined the Area. If another ant were to approach, Alex would not hesitate in shooting the beast. However if not, Alex would look towards the mutilated corpses, checking if any of them had a scrap of life left, or to see what gear they had, they were dead after all, not like they'll be needing it.
(( Sorry for the delay!
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