Handle: White Face.

[Image 1]

[Image 2]


Statistics


Questions:


Contacts and Fake SiN




Edited


No you weren't. Using Ghoul as a physical portrait of White Face seemed like a good fit, and when I finally decided on using him, I thought about your random quote early in the recruitment thread, Karoline.

Guess I'm not the only one who kept thinking of Batman Beyond while this game was being set up.

Holder spot for 'Lash'

Handle: Wires

Character Sheet



Contacts Expanded

[ Spoiler ]

A short Vignette




Background Questions

Sorry I was away, I had hours to make up and a paper I missed when I was sick


Looking good yall, first post will be up by tommorrow evening. Now, down to the brass tacks. Those of you that are dealers of sorts, I need a few blurbs on how and where you do business, and feel free to create NPC's if you feel it appropriate to do so.

I have a stock of BTLs but I really don't see Wires as being a dealer. He keeps a few on hand for requests but I don't see him standing on a street corner. If anyone else is interested in dealing his BTLs I'd be happy to split the profits with you.

It wouldn't be a whole lot. 50% goes to replenishing stock, 25% goes to the gang, and the other 25% to us.

I don't think he means standing on a street corner dealer, but the dealer that provides the guys who do stand on street corners, or perhaps the guy who supplies that guy.

that's the stuff i need to know, if you're a street dealer or higher up the chain.

I figured Matto as a new recruit... the troubles with the Ancients and drek Im sure the HW need replacement hitters and muscle.

Machina checked the package and did a re-count. Her crew headed by Zipperhead was working out of a house near downtown. It was a rundown neighbourhood and this place was no different. The first floor had been boarded up with iron grills over the windows. The brownstown may have looked shabby, but was built to last. Shame the insides looked about as appealing as the outside, all water damaged and all its furniture discarded. She would be getting a new shipment by the ends week. She knew a wholesaler, Thimble who was not only close from her neighbourhood days, but well connected.

In another age, the crew would be moving around a bit more, but in 2070, you no longer had to worry about the police. Only public opinion so you didnät move into expensive neighbourhoods. But then equally you had to make sure other gangs did not rip you off. Now, Knights Errant whenever they would come by would also like their piece of action. There was a lot of money moving around, but most of it was not hers. Gang leadership wanted its share.

An expansion of her operation from one house to an old brownstown which had been sitting vacant was needed. There was the thought of taking it over, and then start using the bottom floor for a whore house and the back for dealing drugs and BTLs. It would be nothing fancy, chip heads could buy a bit of paradise while the Johns would buy a piece of ass.

Machina has been a Halloweener for a while now, she earned her stripes in McNeil and was now a drug dealer and enforcer. She had ambition and energy, which meant she was twofold dangerous.

Every night White Face and a few other Halloweeners go out to scour Seattle for bodies contaning cyberware of fresh organs. Each night is broken down into sections of the city.

Monday: Renton
Tuesday: Downtown
Wednesday: Tacoma
Thursday: The Barrens
Friday: Pullyup.
Saturday and Sunday: Wherever the action is.

If they hear about a possible large payday or big battle they will deviate from the schedule and head there.


Each night he checks in with Rodney Roadkill, the bartender of Jack O' Lanterns to see if there have been any major scuffles in the sprawl, and every once in awhile Dr. Mason, the Renraku researacher notifies White Face of any potential big runs that went down through Renraku's networks.

Competition is fierce in the ogran legging business. Often times, they might come into contact with another gang or another group for the rights to the salvages. Some nights, White Face's group likes to start encounters, and others they simply do their research and pick a target.

On Wednesdays and Sundays, White Face and the other Halloweeners who are in the trade meet Garrok the organ legger, in Halloweener turf, by the docks in downtown to conduct business. In between that time they keep all of the organs and cyberware in a meat house somewhere in southern downtown.

Red N Drippin's new song "Stomp,Stomp,Bleed" pounded in Matto's earbuds as he clung to the roof of the delivery van. The wind picked up more salt and less stink as the van got closer to Downtown Seattle. He watched the tags on the overpasses and buildings till he started seeing orange and black and rolled off the van at the next light.

The vans human drive gave the ork ganger a startled look. Matto twisted the mirror on his way down and was rewarded with curses from behind the 4 cm glass. Laughing, he flipped the driver the bird and sauntered down the street, looking for anyone who might point him to the gang.

Matto didn't miss much. His old gang boss, Tristan always sent him to scout things out because of that. It didn't take more than ten minutes for him to pick up on the flow of the neighborhood. There were always patterns. For instance the brownstone up the block had chip house written all over it. In the next 15 minutes as he stood on the corner 6 scraggly ill fed people of various metatypes wandered in and back out. They all looked much happier as they scurried off, clutching thier pockets. For the first time in years he thought of his mother. No fond memories there. just a thought as to where she might be.

The brownstone had the Circle and black triangles that marked it as Halloweeners turf on the side walk as did the street sign hanging cock-eyed across the street.
Matto settled in down the block to wait till someone noticed him. He tied the white hankerchief on his leg to show his intentions. and lit a smoke as the sun made its way across the sky...

(I realize this is the OOC thread but Chrysalis started it....(grin)

[Oh sure. Blame me.]

It did not take long for a black SUV to drive up to the side of the road. The passenger side window rolled down. The Halloweener grinned behind surgically implanted black lenses. His long black unkept hair made the SURGEd goblin features look even more grotesque. He held the INgram Smartgun X on its side against the door casually pointed at Matto.

It used to be that there were rules, there were rules never broken, but those days had long died out. So now everyone had the wary politeness that comes from an armed, combat drugged out society.

"Whatchoo want?" He sneered at Matto.

Lash is a new arrival into the fold that is the Halloweeners. But she has made a name for herself very quickly. Despite her extremely slight build, she is recognized within the gang is someone you don't ever want to offend when within about 2m of her, unless death has always been a fond wish of yours. With her long silver hair and golden eyes, she often stands out, even among people with cyber eyes, because there is always that moment of realization that her actual eyes are that color.

Even though she entered the gang as a grunt enforcer, she has risen rather quickly. While not yet leadership, she certainly has a number of people under her sway, and it is hard to argue a point with her, as she seems to be able to make anything an inviting prospect.

Only a few days ago, she did something else that sparked more talk about her. She brought with her a girl, only about 16 years of age to one of the hangouts. The girl did anything ordered of her by Lash, seemingly subservient to a fault. The girl wasn't treated as a lover, or sibling, or anything else that would suggest why the girl did what she was told, and so eagerly too. No one has asked what the deal with the girl was, though rumors have spread around. With the only weapon she has ever been seen using being whips, the biggest rumor is that the girl was a slave, likely trained by Lash's own hand. There are plenty of other rumors, some saying that Lash is a vampire who had the girl enthralled, some say she can control minds, and some think it was just some play put on by Lash and some hooker to try and win favor and respect.

Still leaning on the post, Matto smiles " No offense meant, Omae." He lets the smoke roll out his nostrils. " Just wondering if the orange and black might be looking for an extra shooter. I used to run with the Jblades and Tristan always said if we got lost out this way to look ya up."

The goblinoid nods, noting the torn off patch on his jacket. "Heard yeh got hit hard. If yeh hard, talk to the boss. Come to the old dock, tonight 1800. Its a party so get some more white."

There was a snicker from the driver with the last comment. The black glass rolls up and and the goblnoid takes the bead off Matto. The car stays there for a while before the heavy bass of Soulcrusher's Fuck'em Till They Bleed starts blasting out. With a squeal of tires the car drives off down the block and turns left.

It was to friggin early to be bothered. White Face glanced into the corner of his retinal display, it read 23:00 hours. He was one of the few residents of this brownhouse on the corner of Eliot and Vine. Drinking a bottle of BudRiser, the pale skin elf lounged on a sofa with as many bullet holes as swiss cheese, watching a remake of Kurosawa's Seven Samurai. The premise of the movie centered around a village of orks, trolls, and dwarfs being oppressed by a bandit of elven ronin. When a overweight member of the Halloweeners strolled into the room. The fat ganger, was wearing a jean jacket, and warm up pants.

"Yo Whitey. There is a tusker outside, who wants to join our gang. Frankie and some of the others just pulled up and are chatting with him now. Wanna take a look see?"

Fuck. He hated getting being interrupted during his nightly ritual of catching up on Anime and Japanese cinema. But he hated Frankie even more. Maybe something full would happen..


"Sure. Why not."

Whitey and the fat man, we'll just call him Marvin, made their way out of the brownstone just in time to see the Ork blowing smoke out of nose. The ork was sporting a short mohawk and light brown jacket with fringes on it [Going off an earlier picture of Matto, kanislatrans].

There was Frankie, already leaning outside of SUV side of the window, sizing up this tusker.

Still leaning on the post, Matto smiles "No offense meant, Omae." He lets the smoke roll out his nostrils. "Just wondering if the orange and black might be looking for an extra shooter. I used to run with the Jblades and Tristan always said if we got lost out this way to look ya-up."

The goblinoid nods, noting the torn off patch on his jacket. "Heard yeh got hit hard. If yeh hard, talk to the boss. Come to the old dock, tonight 1800. Its a party so get some more white."

The SUV then took off.

White Face scoffed. He was hoping Frankie would get scragged. The elf shrugged before making his way back up the steps into the old Brownstone.

It was to friggin early to be bothered. White Face glanced into the corner of his retinal display, it read 23:00 hours. He was one of the few residents of this brownhouse on the corner of Eliot and Vine. Drinking a bottle of BudRiser, the pale skin elf lounged on a sofa with as many bullet holes as swiss cheese, watching a remake of Kurosawa's Seven Samurai. The premise of the movie centered around a village of orks, trolls, and dwarfs being oppressed by a bandit of elven ronin. When a overweight member of the Halloweeners strolled into the room. The fat ganger, was wearing a jean jacket, and warm up pants.

"Yo Whitey. There is a tusker outside, who wants to join our gang. Frankie and some of the others just pulled up and are chatting with him now. Wanna take a look see?"

Fuck. He hated getting being interrupted during his nightly ritual of catching up on Anime and Japanese cinema. But he hated Frankie even more. Maybe something full would happen..


"Sure. Why not."

Whitey and the fat man, we'll just call him Marvin, made their way out of the brownstone just in time to see the Ork blowing smoke out of nose. The ork was sporting a short mohawk and light brown jacket with fringes on it [Going off an earlier picture of Matto, kanislatrans].

There was Frankie, already leaning outside of SUV side of the window, sizing up this tusker.

Still leaning on the post, Matto smiles "No offense meant, Omae." He lets the smoke roll out his nostrils. "Just wondering if the orange and black might be looking for an extra shooter. I used to run with the Jblades and Tristan always said if we got lost out this way to look ya-up."

Jblades and Tristan. He had heard of those two before. The question was, did this ork really know those two or was he merely dropping their names?

The goblinoid nods, noting the torn off patch on his jacket. "Heard yeh got hit hard. If yeh hard, talk to the boss. Come to the old dock, tonight 1800. Its a party so get some more white."

The SUV then took off.

White Face scoffed. He was hoping Frankie would get scragged. The elf shrugged before making his way back up the steps into the old Brownstone.

((Ignore my previous post, I figure I'll join up at the same time as Matto, so I'm not imposing so much as to Lash's abilities or anything.))

1800 has arrived, and so has Lash. She hangs on the arm of one of the numerous gangers. She wears tight leather clothing that covers little and doesn't leave what it does cover to the imagination. The leather mini-skirt is barely long enough to be decent, and the tight corset only rises just high enough to cover what is required to be covered of her breasts. She wears a pendent which comes to rest on the valley of her breasts, the blood red gem set in it providing even more contrast to the already striking contrast of her pale skin and black leather outfit. It seems fairly certain that she isn't wearing armor of any kind, and most likely is just here as arm candy for the guy, except that as she hangs onto his arm, she seems to be the one leading the way most of the time, pulling on his arm, and him following.

Strapped to each otherwise bare leg is what appears to be a holster for a gun, except that the shape is all wrong, and couldn't possibly hold any conventional sort of gun, or any gun with a handle. They could perhaps hold a small bar of some kind, but that is about it.

Edit: ((I suppose we can count this as our vignettes ))

[Man. I really want to play this campaign. ]

Walking back to his couch, White Face had the urge for something to exhilarating to get himself ready for tonight's run through the Barrens, and then the party by the docks. He was tired of Novacoke, Kamikaze re-wired his brain to much. You know what he needed? A good fragging BTL. Something to put him in a violent mood set. White Face always had a problem with being to violent for the 'Weeners. Something new, A BTL with a cutting edge. He made a mental note to ask Machina if she had anything new the next time they ran into each other. He hated dealing with Zipperhead. He just realized he hated a lot of things. Funny how life in 2070 puts it that way.

White Face had just laid down on his couch, about to hit up Vampire Hunter D 2070 when Marvin interrupted him again. Marvin meant well, but he always had the worst timing.

"Hey Whitey, what do you think about the Sea Dogs making it.."

"I don't care."

"Hey Whitey what's with Rimzar the Balrog almost killing Neal in the latest Barbarian.."

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. All of his movies are the same,"

"Hey Whitey....look at the Chica, Pauly the Purple is bringing in..."

"Probably another street slitch.."

"No. I mean...look."

White Face rolled his eyes and turned his neck to see what Marvin was staring at. But Marvin wasn't staring, he was drooling. Down the hallway, Pauly had a new girl dangling on his arm. Short skirt, tight leather, a nice pendant dangling from her neck.

"Not bad...Pauly is moving up in the world..." Marvin stated.

Yeah. But was it Pauly moving up in the world, or was he a play thing for this new chick? White Face noticed the weapon holders on each leg. Hmm. It looked like Slash was bringing up some new talent to fortify his defenses within the gang...or was it Nightmare recruiting new members to finally stage the coup?

It was 1800 and the party was starting to wind-up TriChrist was on the decks pumping out Get Your Meat Beat.

Machina showed up in a tight leather outfit, her skin prominently on display. It was garish mottled splotched of gray and blue, with an underlying tracery of silver wirework. Her hair in a top knot changed and shifted colours from bright red to purple and violet before going white again. She wore a sword scabbard on her hips, the sword itself in her hand.

She looked around the crowd in a sneering manner. There were several hopefuls in white, that had been pushed towards the front of the dancefloor. When she smiled she revealed to have enlarged incisors, either she was a vampire or then had some cosmetic surgery for that. All those new recruits. All that fresh blood.

[I think we should start a thread before the OOC thread becomes the IC thread]

Be up tonight, and a spoiler....the Ancients hit in the opening chapter.

"No prob, see ya there" Matto answered.

"Initiation time again" He thought as he walked a few blocks over to the Military surplus store he had passed on his way here. "Drek, I figured when I hooked up with the blades that would be the last. funny how life changes"

Matto let his mind wander back to the day he had joined the blades. Tristan had called all members in for the good old traditional beat down. There had been 6 other wanna-bees all older than him. At only 12 some of the gang had said he wasn't ready, but Tristan said yes and that was all that mattered.

He had been the first to walk the line. Head up he took everything that came at him. A few of the punches and kickes rocked him but he held fast and one foot at a time took it all. Untill the end of the line where Ivy, the Troll master at arms waited for her shot. He had heard snickers as he aproached, batttered and blooded. He looked up into Ivys eyes and nodded. She pulled back and the world exploded. When his vision cleared, he realized that he wasn't breathing and the only reason he hadn't gone down was that he was now 10 meters back and leaning on the wall. His vision got dark again and then his lungs kicked back in. Tristan smiled and said something to him. but he didn't hear it as he fell forward into oblivion. Four broken ribs and a shattered collar bone, but he was in.

The security bell rang as he entered the Surplus shop and he wandered around looking for something white. He found a T shirt and a navy officers dress shirt. He transfered the 20 and headed for the party....

((Warning: Likely not work appropriate (No nudity, along the lines of Victoria's Secret.). Lash's top and skirt (I know I said corset originally, but I think that top is more appropriate)))

Lash guides Pauly towards the initiates in white, her eyes moving over them appraiseingly. She whispers something to Pauly, and he looks nervous, shaking his head. Lash gives him a stern look. He tries to resist for several seconds, but then gives a bit of a sigh and nods. She releases his arm, and he makes his way through the crowd towards Machina, still looking a bit sheepish, especially at the sight of those incisors.

Machina gets the impression that he feels himself between a rock and a hard place. "Machina?" he says, his voice low "My... uh, my girl wants to join too, but she uh.. she doesn't have white like she is supposed to, and uh.. but she wants to join anyway." He points out Lash, and 'his' girl is already talking to another guy, though her eyes move over towards Pauly and Machina fairly often, making sure that Pauly is doing as he was told.

When Machina looks over towards Lash, she catches her eye, giving an almost seductive style and a small wink, seemingly pointedly allowing her eyes to wander over Machina's body.

Before we continue can we have a bit of a talk about what is everyone's limits. I really don't want this to get out of hand and start weirding out process with other players. Halloweeners can be as extreme as our imaginations can go and my imagination can be very extreme.

How far are you willing to go? Is there any topic you would feel uncomfortable dealing with in an RP?

For me I would have to say that explicit torture scenes, especially explicit sexual torture is something I would not like to see in an RP.

Tossing his jacket and backpack in the pile by the door, matto walks into the warehouse. He pauses feeling naked with out the tactical holster on his hip, but figured that it would be safer in the bottom of the pack. The weight of the stun baton in his right boot gave him a little confidence. he had cut the bottom out of the pocket of his pants so he could get to it if things got freaky.

His white shirt glowed in the black light, making him stand out like a stiff pecker at a sewing bee. It didn't take long before he started getting bumped and jostled. Heckling and catcalls followed and he soon found himself pushed to the front of the crowd.

Matto took a second to size up the Chica with the pigsticker. Confident, cocky, and a little bit scary. "La Belle Dame Sans Merci" He thought to him self.

He was impressed. Dropping into a relaxed parade rest, he waited for what ever she had in store...with HW, he'd been told , you never know what to expect...

For the most part I'm a no holds barred as far as what I mind seeing, but I'll certainly keep other people's preferences in mind with my own posts.

[Music in the background Combichrist: Get your bodybeat ]

The crowd had gotten thicker. The music also had gotten thicker and more aggressive. She looked at Pauly. He had always been a weak one, if she could kill him, she would but that would involve an excuse. One day Pauly would slip up and he would then find himself ghoul food.

"Hi Pauly. If she doesn't have the right clothes, you should ask her to strip for you." She turned to the rest of the crowd. She toggles the AR switch causing her voice to preternaturally project across the room through the loudspeakers.

"She wants to join, but she's not wearing her colors. Should she strip!? yeah? I can't fucking hear you?!" The crowd roars for Lash to strip. Machine grins evilly and turns the music back to full blast.

I agree.

Although there isn't much that shocks or makes me uncomfortable these days,a benefit of getting old I guess. ( or maybe its the wages of a life of sin and debachery.)

Thread is up, I will be editting in the prison scene for DWC shortly.

woot!

Will there be more to the thread?

As in? I also stated it'd be editted to include the prison scene for DWC. You've just been hit, and not all of you run in the same circles, some of you dont really hang at the S&M bars like others....so begin your story.

I would suggest we continue from the OOC thread. The setting is prime for a drive by..

That does sound like a good idea. My OOC post up in a minute

Lash looked hesitant at the call to strip from her scanty clothing in order to join the initiation. Some might think she was embarrassed by the idea, but those who know what you look for notice that she isn't blushing at the idea, instead she seems to be considering. While stripping would certainly draw her plenty of attention, it was also obviously intended to keep her down, and wouldn't make the best impression for moving up in the gang. Still, she didn't have any power in the gang yet, and so didn't have much of a choice. She didn't like being ordered around by machina, but she'd have to swallow her pride until she could get on better terms with her.

She would say something, but the music would drown anything she said out, so instead she moves in front of the crowd with the rest of the group, and makes no attempt to hide herself as she unlaces her top, slowly allowing it to open wider and wider, until finally she allows it to drop, and it slides down her body to be caught on her hips. She hadn't bothered to wear anything under the top, as a bra would have ruined the look, and it was plenty tight enough to provide support anyway. And so her chest is on full display for anyone who can see her front, her hands moving to her hips, rubbing the line of the belt keeping her skirt up.

She glances back at the crowd, seeing what their reaction is. Perhaps surprise at her having actually gone through with it... to some extent at least, but also likely excitement. She looks back to Machina and gives her another wink, doing her best to appear like she is the one in control. "Want more?" she mouths to Machina, grinning, seemingly quite ready to remove more if requested.

Machina is not impressed. Any slower and this strip would be going in reverse. Besides it's not like they had not seen all of this before. "Pauly strip her and have her kneel on all fours on the ground."

She started up a chant "DogdogdogdogdogdogdoGDOGDOGDOGDOGDOG!DOGDOG!!DOGDOG!!!" "DOGGGG!!" The crowd of halloweeners screamed in unison the a silence following afterwards. Machina looked at the vicious creature, patted it gently on the head. "Fuck her Dog, Fuck her doggie style."

"Wicked Slitch" thought the young ork as he watched the humiliation taking place. She definitely knew how to put on a show and the mob was sucking it up.
Still standing he scanned the crowd. Something kept nagging him, as if he had missed something on his way in. The problem with being so good at noticing details is he sometimes missed the obvious. This seemed to be one of those time.
He shook his head and turned back to the center of the chanting howling Halloweeners. His turn would come soon enough.....

The sole of his worn out boots dangled over some sixty feet of absolutely nothing. Down there, people didn't quite look like ants, but they didn't quite look like people either. They were big and small at the same time. Dog liked to look at people. Especially when they didn't know he was there. They would go on about their business. It was amazing what people did when they thought they were alone. It really did amaze Dog. It digusted Mother though. Most of the time, he would look and listen for a long time, and then Mother would find him. She would scold him. She would punish him. He didn't mind anymore. Sometimes, Mother wouldn't find him for days. It made him sad. And so, even if she was punishing him, he was at least happy for her to be there.

A mess of ragtagged patched up clothes, scrounged from half a dozen of places, and a full dozen of people, Dog pushed himself slowly up. Perched up on the very edge of the roof, he started to walk slowly. His long chromed tail flicked in the air, swinging up and balance every single of his step. The hood of his sewed up poncho stuck to his head. He hadn't taken a shower in a few weeks. His clothes stank of a strange mix of stingy chemicals and body odour. His boots and pants were caked with mud, all the way over his knees. A fresh and nasty cut ran on the inside of his palms. He pulled at the fresh scab until it started to bleed again. Holding his hand high above the street, walking along the edge of the roof, Dog's blood dripped down. Dog imagined himself to be God, making rain. Rain was good. People would love him. He didn't really care about the others. Only Mother's love was true. Only Mother's love was needed.

He missed the touch of Mother's loving hands. Dog was a very good son. He had taken good care of Mother, when she had started to sleep. She was very tired, and she needed him to be quiet. Dog had made sure no one woke her up. When the neighbours German Sheperd had started to bark one night, Dog had gone out into the yard. It had taken a few tries before he could hit him with the rocks, over the fence. Once he had knocked him out, bashing his brains in with a wrench had been easy. He had been very quiet. So quiet Mother hadn't even woken up. After a few days, Mother had started to smell strange. So, each morning and night, Dog would wash her, and hang up some more pine air fresheners.

Bringing his hand to his mouth, he ran a long grayish tongue over it. Peering down into the street, he saw Frankie talking to some tusker. Crouching low, leaning out into 6 stories of nothing, his balance tail the only thing preventing the fall, Dog's head leaned to the side. He licked his lips a few times. He ran his tongue over his theeth. Back and forth. Back and forth. His right eye twitched a bit.

The tusker pushed himself off the post he was leaning on. Dog pushed himself up.The tusker began to casually walk down the side walk. Dog jogged a bit, leaping over the alleyway and on the roof of the next building.

He didn't know the tusker. He had never seen him. And he was too far to be smelled. Or tasted.

Dog wasn't about to get near him. Unless Mother wanted him to. Then he'd do it. For the time being, Dog simply shadowed him until he was out Halloweeners' turf. He didn't know why he was doing it. It was just in his nature. Dogs don't know why they fetch. They just do.

Later, at the warehouse

Dog held his two rough hands towards the fire. In the corner of the warehouse, someone had lit some junk filled drum on aflame. Dog liked fire. It was a nice color. He liked the smell of burning things. His knuckles were scabby and raw. Earlier in the day, he had found a very nice blanket down an alley. It was soft. It was brown. It made him think of Mother's skin. He had been rubbing it against his cheek when some squatter, his smell of urine making him known before he had spoken, had yelled out. But Dog wasn't listening. He really liked this blanket. Dog thought the man looked old when he had started to pull on the blanket, yelling some rubbish about how it was is. But Dog knew it must have been Mother's. It was so close to her likeness. It had to be Mother's. Maybe she had lost it. The man pulled on it more. He even pushed Dog once. Dog made his mind up. This man... this horrible man probably had stolen Mother's blanket from her. With a feral sneer, Dog bare his fangs at the man. He spat in his face in anger.

In an instant, Dog leaped over on the man, wrapping his powerful legs around him and throwing him to the ground. He grabbed a handful of the man's gray hair, and started pounding his head on the pavement. He pounded it, and pounded it. By the time Dog stopped screaming his rage at the theif, the man's skull had mostly emptied itself. He had then bashed his face in until no recognizeable features were left.

Smiling at the fire, Dog pulled the blanket tighter around his broad shoulders.

He thought about Mother. Thought he could smell her. Thought he could hear her. And he did hear her. She was calling his name. Throught the throat of many, she called him, beckoned him.

He snapped his head around, sniffing the air, his tongue running along his lower lip. Back and forth. Over and over. He saw Machina, and for a moment, he wanted to have her. But Mother wouldn't allow it. She wanted him to have something else. A smaller thing. And she was ready for him.

Walking away from the burning oil drum, Dog started to shed his clothes.

Show her the meaning of love, my boy. Show her.

Alright, that was my little vignette.
I'll try to have an actual post, up in the IC, tonight.

Dog will make his way to the rendezvous. Whenever he gets there, he'll just collapse somewhere.

@DigitalOYABUN
I'll leave the extend of Dog's wounds to you. I thought it would be strange if all the survivors were totaly unharmed. So, right now, Dog as a dislocated shoulder, a few broken ribs, and has probably been shot a few times

And for future references; when the gang is out and about raising hell, this is what Dog wears

Lash moves a hand to one of her thigh holsters in a flash, and that causes Pauly to come to a stop. He looks quite frightened, and it is likely that he knows what is in the holsters, and it is obvious he is frightened to approach any closer. After a moment though, she moves her hand from the holster, grinning a bit. She'll put on a show for everyone. Pauly looks relieved and approaches closer, his hands moving to undo her belt, and drag the skirt and top, along with her black panties down her legs. She gives him a pointed look though, and he takes care to not dislodge her holsters before letting her clothing drop the rest of the way.

Except for the two weapon holsters she now stands naked in front of the crowd. She doesn't stand for long though as Pauly forces her to the ground. She moves to all fours, Pauly's hands on her shoulders keeping her down, her ass on display for the crowd which has by now taken up the "DOG!" chant. She isn't sure what it is about until she sees the man coming towards her, shedding his clothing. Far from any sort of pick that she'd make, she shivers a bit. She -could- still stop this. Pauly would make a fine example, but that might blow her chances, and since she is naked, a few good shots would put her down plenty quick. So for now she continues to kneel on all fours as 'Dog' comes closer.

Well... anything more will probably break Dumpshock's rules.... so yea.... we might want to move forward to IC thread.

Party pooper