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Messages - saltmummy626

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General Discussion / Re: Last Man Posting: -50% SHENANIGANS
« on: February 27, 2023, 11:43:19 pm »

General Discussion / Re: Last Man Posting: -50% SHENANIGANS
« on: November 27, 2022, 11:12:42 pm »
Good to see some activity around here. I will inform the others.

General Discussion / Re: Last Man Posting: -50% SHENANIGANS
« on: November 04, 2022, 12:30:21 am »
the penis of truth smites you with its engorged meatus for the alteration of your avatar, you lascivious derg.

General Discussion / Re: Last Man Posting: -50% SHENANIGANS
« on: August 09, 2022, 09:45:41 am »
skrenks and the threnks

General Discussion / Re: Last Man Posting: -50% SHENANIGANS
« on: February 10, 2022, 11:00:40 am »
Oh shit, hide!

General Discussion / Re: Last Man Posting: -50% SHENANIGANS
« on: October 23, 2021, 07:52:56 pm »
skrenks in the walls

Rec Room / Re: A History of Time to Come
« on: October 04, 2021, 08:16:19 pm »
"How is your back treating you, Ms. Walker?"

"Like heck. Please Hector, just Catnip. You can't just change to a more formal tone after so much time."

Catnip leaned over her cane and looked over what the chapel had taken in for repairs and what they'd been paid. Russian weapons, old ones. Fine ones. The chapel had neatly packed them back up into new boxes just in time for Catnip and Hector to come and take a look before the fresh new lids were nailed down. Hector shuffled a little uncomfortably at Catnip's request. His station demanded a certain level of courtesy and aplomb that he had grown accustomed to.

"I'm sorry Nip, you know how it is." He apologized.

"Of course. People have expectations of how bigshot schmot guys like us have to behave and some habits die hard. These are good rifles yeah? The chapel is keeping these here, as payment, but we've blueprinted all of them. Does your order need anything like these? We can of course make more of them." Catnip asked in return. Hector looked over the weapons with an eye that had diminished little in it's expertise in the last twenty or so years.

"No, well, yes. But New Paris and the outlying settlements should be taken care of first. My people have plenty to work with as it is. Especially thanks to the mechanics you sent us." Hector said, easing up a bit.

"Oh, that reminds me. How are they? Chase, Maria, and Deids? I heard they'd been making improvements to your armor?" Catnip asked. Hector nodded at that and grinned.

"They're doing well. The armor was a bit stiff during the first few tests, but when it came time to actually use it, it performed like a dream. Or so I heard." Hector told her with a bit of pride. It was Catnip's turn to nod at something and share in Hectors pride. The trio of mechanics Catnip had sent to assist Hectors own aging technician had begun work immediately on improving the exoskeletons used by Hectors heavier units, culminating in the recovery and repair of an S.H. class powered armor. A hulking monstrosity had appeared in a small settlement called Blueville and the Lilith sized suit had been dispatched along with a small group to deal with it. The suit, Catnip and Hector had been informed, had performed beyond expectation by punching the hulks head into its chest cavity.

"Excellence." Catnip said.

"Excell-ent." Hector corrected.

"Either, or." Catnip countered. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and adjusted the cane so she could run a hand over one of the machine guns. "You should come around to the chapel more often Hec."

"You see me around the farm all the time though." Hector mused, wondering what brought that on.

"No, to the chapel. My people and you're people should have more interaction. I know some of my craftsman can be a bit... preachy, sometimes but still. I think it would benefit the chapel to see how your people are putting the things they make to use, and it would be good for your people to see how some of their gear is made and maintained." She explained. Hector pursed his lips, then grinned. Sure they'd seen each other plenty but had they talked? Really talked? Not really. Mica hadn't talked to him much either, but Mica had been more overt about the disapproval that had spurred on that drifting. Disapproval of what? Disapproval which started the moment it became known that Hector had taken a second girlfriend, and that Roxanne was alright with it. Catnip had coped and moved on, Mica had begun to do the same before she passed, and Kathrine... Kathrine would never approve. Would never even look at Hector's relationships with anything besides thinly veiled distaste. It was a shame that they'd drifted apart in such a way.

"You know what?" Hector said with a clap, "Sure. Why not? I'll arrange to have some of our old equipment brought over and have the men stick around to observe. If that won't get in the way of your peoples workload, that is?"

"That's not what I meant Hec." Catnip laughed, "but I get what you mean. The craftpriest's would be happy to host you."

Creative Endeavors / Re: Catnips Odd Trip
« on: September 03, 2021, 09:14:20 pm »
And that was how a week later, Catnip found herself drafted and on her way to the front lines as a member of Pricetown's regular militia along with half of Pinky's staff. She barely had time to grab a few choice items and say goodbye to her friends before being shuffled into a truck and taken to Camp Frontline where she and the others would be trained. It was while at this camp that Catnip first made the acquaintance of a foul tempered woman her own age by the name of Billy-Jean Dawson. Billy-Jean was the quartermaster by virtue of her expertise in the area of guns. Billy-Jean loved guns. Rifles, pistols, tanks, shotguns, cannons, rockets, bombs, grenades, and especially machine guns and assault rifles. Billy-Jean adored everything machine guns and assault rifles. Catnip would find out during her training that the girl even had body pillows bearing the blueprints of her favorite machine guns. Knowing this, one would think that the two of them would hit it off immediately. An inventor with a deep appreciation for the design of guns and an "ammosexual" woman in charge of maintaining the armory of the town they were both in service to.

No. Not even a little. Catnip liked her but outwardly Billy-Jean found Catnip to be annoying and destructive. An influence of alteration to her world of regularity. Catnip would make suggestions to how an implement could be improved or just work on it herself and Billy-Jean would raise the racks over it. Within a short time, the sound of the quartermaster screaming had become a regular occurrence around Camp Frontline. Building brand new guns from the pieces of others was also a big no no under the roof of Billy-Jeans armory. Her armory was a domain of order and equilibrium just as Catnips garage back home had been to her. Secretly, Billy-Jean thought highly of Catnip. The designs she brought to the quartermaster were excellent and when she was just cleaning and maintaining the implements under her care, Catnip was better than all of the others. The average private, Billy-Jean thought, couldn't be trusted to properly maintain a slam fire shotgun. Catnip though could not only maintain, but manufacture and replace parts with little more than hand tools. Catnip would enjoy it even.

"You can't just cut the barrel off a moist-nugget like that! Get out of my armory! OUT! YOU'VE ALREADY DONE IT!? NOOOO! GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT!!!" The possum faced woman shrieked, chasing Catnip out of the workshop and out onto the parade field. "It was perfect already! Why did you have to Obrez it!?"

"I need a shorter gun!" Catnip shouted back, risking punishment for insubordination again, "Come on, Obrez are cool! You said so yourself! I can't use a shield and that long nugget anyway!"

"Obrez are only cool when they're made that way in the first place! Not when you ruin a perfectly good rifle to do it!" Billy-Jean screamed indignantly back. The possum mutant was wringing her tail and stomping out to meet Catnip, a sure sign that trouble was coming. Catnip may have liked Billy-Jean and secretly Billy-Jean liked her, but that didn't mean that Billy-Jean wouldn't storm after Catnip and dive on her in a hissing spitting brawl if Catnip displeased her too much and Catnip, who grew up with siblings who expressed their love by getting into brawls, would oblige by fighting back.

"Quartermaster! Private! Just what the flying frying fuck do you two think you're doing!?" Barked a man armor moving to intervene. "You've both been told! Watch your fucking attitude Quartermaster, and cut the antagonistic shit Private!"

Billy-Jean stiffened to attention while Catnip simply glanced around and hunched down sharply to find the source of the sudden verbal assault. "She wasn't being antagonizing, sir, just um..." Billy-Jean began sheepishly.

"What attitude?" Catnip said with a hint of a hiss as she eased up. The face of man who had approached was hidden by a helmet much like those of the warwalkers Catnip had seen back home during the raid on the refugee center and it had taken a detailed explanation for her to understand that the suit was simply that, a suit. Through that Helmet though, it was impossible to see what the man beneath was thinking. His facial expressions completely hidden. If Catnip had known it she would have been a bit perplexed by the knowing grin on the man's face at that moment.

"Nevermind. I have orders for Private Walker and it just so happens she'll be needing a shorter gun anyway. Seems she's saved you the trouble, eh Billy?" The man said authoritatively. Billy-Jean gave some grunt of dissatisfied relent and he went on. "Walker, report to the Shattered Helm Barracks, you're off the regs."

General Discussion / Re: Last Man Posting: -50% SHENANIGANS
« on: September 03, 2021, 03:52:34 pm »
Mario music intensifies

Rec Room / Re: A History of Time to Come
« on: September 03, 2021, 04:35:29 am »
The Craftpriests of Agmen took in the weapons, put aside their own projects, and set to work one them. Stripping, cleaning, recording in blueprint form, reassembling, and refining like a practiced manufacturing line. Most of the rifles were fine enough but some had not weathered times endless march as well as others. A couple new barrels were turned and a stock replaced. When the Craftpriests were done, the guardians took the weapons and tested them. Sighting in and firing. Making sure each one worked flawlessly before sending them on to be given the final examination.

"Truly fine work." A bishop commented, "The Craftpriests really are a blessing."

"If you believe in that sort of thing." Said another bishop as he packed one of the rifles back into its box with the others while a mouse faced laborer moved to nail it shut.

"How you became a bishop Zachary, I'll never know." Groaned the first bishop.

"It's because Agmen doesn't care if you believe in her or it or... Whatever. It doesn't care. What did you say we got for this work, Len?" Zachary asked.

"The man donated a box of the Kalashnikov's and Carbines along with three of the long rifles and machine guns." Len mused, "I'm... Not sure if he meant three each or three total. Should we assume three each?" Zachary shrugged and ran a hand over a PKM.

"A good haul of slug throwers. I suppose it isn't important where they got them?" Zachary asked. Len looked over the rifles and the stack of rolled blueprints resting on a cart, ready to be taken and filed away in the chapel undercroft. "Lianne is going to want one of these Dragunovs."

"I know. She and her partner have been after Arch-Aegis Hennigan for new rifles for some time. I suppose they've earned them..." Zachary said, nodding.

Len rubbed his chin in thought, then took up the cart. "I don't see why they couldn't. Do me a favor and call them in when you get the chance? And get ahold of Ms. Walker and Mr. Lowe to come take a look afterwords?"

"Of course Zachary. I just hope that Her Holiness, Ms. Walker will forgive your less serious faith."

General Discussion / Re: Last Man Posting: -50% SHENANIGANS
« on: August 21, 2021, 04:20:48 am »
firing bean lasers, NOW.

General Discussion / Re: Last Man Posting: -50% SHENANIGANS
« on: June 03, 2021, 01:57:14 am »
I will devastate you all!

Rec Room / Re: A History of Time to Come
« on: February 20, 2021, 01:43:37 am »
"Right, that's thirty Chapel Repeaters for New Paris, forty-three refurb jobs on pre-cataclysm arms, and the three of the prototype seeders we put together." Listed off a foreman of the Chapel of Agmen. The litany of fresh outgoing and incoming orders was an oddly calming influence over Rosia. It always came at the end of the work day for her. A simple pleasure that most people wouldn't understand. The other chosen had left long before her, and sitting to listen also gave her time to put space between herself and them. Especially Tom and Patricia. Mean spirited and vile tempered bullies that they were, Rosia had been their target even before being chosen by Catnip. So when she finally left the chapel, she was not surprised to find them waiting for her.

"What's up rat?" Patricia snarked from behind her as she slipped out the chapels small side door, the woman sliding up behind her along with Tommy, looking like he'd lost a game of chicken with heavy traffic. They followed close behind and Rosia could feel the tension of what she knew was coming at the back of her neck. As she predicted, once they were out of the sight of eyes that would be certain to help, Patricia grabbed Rosia by the scruff of the neck and shoved her to the ground. The woman stood over her menacingly and looking less like the bitchy college chick and more like the wicked witch. "So that little cunt across the river beat seven shades of shit out of Tommy here and on top of that, seems to think YOU'RE going to be the next Artifex. YOU of all people. Well, that doesn't suit us at all."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Rosia said, trying to get back up and dust herself off. Her next words and attempt were cut off rather crudely by Patricia's casual slap across Rosia's mousey face.

"Don't talk back to me, rat. Don't you dare. I'm in no mood for your whining. I swear, the gall of Catnip for even considering you..."

"Don't talk about Catnip that way..." Came another voice from nowhere. There was a quick flash of something red and angry, and then a jar collided with the side of Tom's head and filled the air with the smell of strawberry jam. Rosia saw an odd shimmer in the air a mere ten or so feet away, but only for a second.

"OOOOWW! Holy fuck, what-" Tom began before another jar painfully collided with his hip, bouncing harmlessly aside to land safely in the grass.

"Who's there!?" Patricia cried in a screamy voice that belied her fright at being suddenly assaulted by something she couldn't see. A second later, Mona appeared for a split second and a third and final jar arched out and slammed squarely into Patricia's left breast. "OW! WHAT THE FUCK!"

"Why don't you get lost you two, stop harassing your betters."

"Is that Mona? Little bitch, we know where you live." Patricia screamed at the invisible girl.

"And I know where you live, Patricia Baines. I know where you live and now you can't even see me. Get lost."

Patricia sneered and didn't move for a moment, not until a stiff breeze that was not the wind passed too close by and she flinched away from it. "We aren't done!" She shot at Rosia, "Next time you won't have some invisible daddyless cunt to protect you! Come on Tommy!"

Once they were gone, a firm unseen hand grasped her by the elbow and helped hoist Rosia to her feet. The cloak slipped down, turning into a scintillating blanket like thing hung around Mona's neck. Her skin had turned the stark red of anger and Rosia had to take a step back for fear of being bludgeoned with a jam jar. Red faded to a lighter shade of pink, and then the sandy tan of Mona's usual skin color.

"I um, wanted to come by and thank you for keeping me company. I saw those two hanging around and figured something was up, so I went to find help. Took me too long, so I grabbed some jars and... Sorry I was a bit late." Mona said, becoming a bit more self conscious as she explained.

"You could have just gone inside..." Rosia suggested. Mona turned red again, but only for a moment.

"Yeah... Sorry... Um, would you mind coming by again? I don't have many friends, and I'd like to show somebody I can trust the stuff my aunt gave me."

General Discussion / Re: Last Man Posting: -50% SHENANIGANS
« on: February 20, 2021, 12:46:36 am »
Sixpost powers activate!

Rec Room / Re: A History of Time to Come
« on: October 14, 2020, 04:53:32 am »
Mona jolted awake suddenly and with the sensation of a sugary film coating the inside of her mouth and the smell of strawberry jam filling the house to the point where it made her feel instantly nauseous. When her feet swung out over the floor, they encountered something hard and hollow and she realized they were jars. A pile of empty jars. The sound they made reminded her of all of the night before and she felt instant intense embarrassment. Even more when she remembered the half worried, half amazed look Rosia had given her near the end of the night before she finally passed into a sleep that was half sugar coma. Mona vaguely remembered crying herself to sleep with the taste of strawberries on her lips, and even more vaguely the feeling of a blanket being thrown over her.

"Oh my god..." She moaned feeling as though she could just die from the humiliation at what Rosia must think of her. She closed her eyes and lay back, not wanting to see the shades of red her scales would be shifting at that moment. It would be a welcome change from the blues and purples she'd been exhibiting in the days prior, but Mona still didn't want to see it. After a while, when she knew the color would be fading back to it's usual sandy tan, she opened her eyes again and scanned the coffee table for her glasses. Then, slowly, she began the laborious task of cleaning up.

Jars on rack, lid rings stacked to dry, Mona slid back into her usual place at the small dinner table she'd been sitting at for the last twenty years of her life. At first with mother and father, then just father, and now all alone. She felt so alone, but Rosia had showed her she wasn't. Not really. Catnip was still there, along with aunt Kathrine and the others. Not too far away, a few minutes walk at most. Mona couldn't keep being alone, her mind would eat itself with grief if she did. Rosia had taken her on the second step to recovery, it was up to her to do the rest.

Kathrine opened the front door as though she’d been expecting Mona, and she probably had been. The smell of apple pie and apple fritters, already seeping from the house in a spicy miasma, exploded from the door and nearly knocked Mona over with the nostalgia that swept over her with it. It was late summer now, but she smell brought thoughts of late fall and winter to come. Of warm buttered cider and roasting pumpkin seeds.

“Mona!” Kathrine cried in faux surprise that Mona secretly appreciated, “We’ve been expecting you! Come in silly!” She slipped around behind Mona and ushered her into the den of apple spice and the faint aroma of oil and hard work that would never really leave the home Kathrine and Catnip.

She was shown a chair, the big comfortable one saved for special dignitaries which Catnip sometimes met with here in her living room, and Kathrine vanished into the kitchen. While she was gone, as if on cue, Catnip appeared carefully taking each step in turn carefully but purposefully.

“Hello Mona.” Catnip said, “Finally decided to come out and see us hm? Has Rosie been around to see you yet?”

“Yes Auntie Catnip.” Mona said automatically, “She fed my chickens.”

Catnip looked like she wanted to stroke her chin or look musing, but she didn’t do either. Instead, she slid comfortably into her own chair across from the one Mona had been assigned and took a dowel from a jar bar the arm of her chair.

“These aren’t as good as the ones they had in Pricetown.” Catnip commented, “With the path through Texas open we can get the good stuff, if only the cost wasn’t so high.” She wrinkled her nose at the word “cost” and Mona knew why. Her own father had been fine with being paid in New Paris bills, and so did Mica and Mona by extension, but Mona’s Aunt had been firmly against currency of almost any form. Service rendered for service given, and all that. “So, anyway, I’m not going to ask why you came for a visit since it’s only been a week and a few days, I’m just happy you’ve come to visit. Period.”

Kathrine emerged then with a large tray adorned in all the things Mona expected. Fritters, cider, pie, sweets. “We’ve um, been expecting you…” Kathrine explained a little sheepishly while she pushed a small plate into Mona’s hands and placed upon it a slice of pie.

“I um…” Mona began. It was hard to say the words and she knew the color in her scales would just be beginning to shift, but finally she finished, “Thank you.”

Catnip chatted about current events, covering everything that had been going on since the funeral but being very careful not to actually touch on it. Kathrine brought more snacks, all the things Mona liked. After listening for a long time and easing into the company of her aunt Catnip, as Catnip had planned, Mona broached a subject she very much wanted to know about.

“Um, Auntie Nip? What do I do now?” She asked.

“You eat your pie is what you do.” Catnip said cheerily, “Silly head.”

“No. I mean, yes, but… No.” Mona went on hesitantly, “I mean, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I’m… All alone now.”

Kathrine looked worried, but Catnip smirked as though it were the silliest question she’d ever heard. “You aren’t alone. You have us, and you’ll always have someone.” It wasn’t quite the answer she wanted or needed, but to Catnip it was true and was all she needed. The look Kathrine shot her told her that she had made a mistake, and Mona’s reaction a few moments later only added to that.

“No! I mean, yes! But but… What am I going to DO!?” She cried, feeling the warmth of tears coming on again. “What am I going to do with myself Auntie Catnip? I don’t know what I’m doing! I’m… I’m… I’m not ready…” Kathrine hugged her and gazed pleadingly at Catnip. She couldn't stand to see Mona in such a state and neither could Catnip. "I can't go to the church, I already tried that before and I just couldn't. I can't do what daddy did because I'm not any good at it. I don't know anything about robots or making things or farming or… or… what am I going to do!?"

Catnip stayed quiet, thinking hard about it. She'd never had this problem before herself, and Mica had been too simple to have it. When she tried to think about it from Mona's perspective, it almost made her want to cry herself. Instead she considered a few other options while Kathrine quieted their niece. Mona had tried the chapel a few years after Mica had passed, but she had no passion for the work of her hands. Likewise, she had no fighting aptitude and no talent for the sort of things Helen's people could teach her. To top it off, Jenny had volunteered to show Mona how to go out and survive in the wide world of she needed to and it had been a miserable experience for both of them. What did Catnip do when she was on her own? Catnip did all of those kinds of things and more, besides the magical stuff. Catnip had put her life on the line for her own benefit and that hadn't been easy. Dodging the undead and wildlife all while trying to find food and tools and materials. It had all been almost too much, now that she looked back on it. It only really got much much easier after she found…

"I suppose," she sighed a bit and realizing what she must do, "Kathrine and I could help. Kat, could you get the keys for my wardrobe? I have some things that have been put away for too long that our niece could probably put to use."

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