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Messages - Forrest

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Rec Room / Re: Winds of memories (Cata RP Character background stories)
« on: February 20, 2018, 05:52:09 am »
Timeline: ? ? ? ?
Location: [REDACTED]
Characters Involved: Dr. Hoyt Upton, Head of Security Carrol Hitchcock.

The relatively spacious overseer's office was debatably far more cramped once you factored in that it was being used as a living space for two people. It was one of the few relatively nice rooms in a building of cold cement and bulletproof glass and misplaced shadow so thick you could lose your hand in it.

It had an actual carpet. It was an ugly, speckled maroon and green pattern, but nonetheless, it made it feel a little more homely. There was a brown leather couch with a quilt thrown over it in front of a glass table. There were cluttered wooden filing cabinets lining the wall. And there was a grand mahogany desk, a massive, beautiful thing, positioned in front of a small bed that folded neatly into the wall for space.

There was a man sitting on the bed behind the desk, and a woman sitting on the couch with the quilt. They weren't talking. They hadn't talked for hours, and they normally preferred it that way. Not that they didn't like associating with each other. In fact, they were something akin to best friends. As close as people like themselves could have to friends, at least.
The woman was staring hard at two objects on the table before her. The first was a bottle of vodka, about half full. It was some premium stuff, not your run-of-the-mill rotgut. It was distilled from Californian wine grapes. It wasn't flavored. She preferred it straight and to the point. She'd already had a good amount, but not as much as she usually had. The second object was a gun.

It was a sleek, black, intimidating thing. State-of-the-art. Caseless rounds and worth a small fortune. It was a perk of the job. Hadn't even undergone military trials yet. Not that it ever would, mind you. Some PMC in South America probably had access to it from their corporate sponsors. Probably executed a few dozen kids with it. The usual. Not that it mattered anymore. She guessed those kids would be dead anyways. So would the mercs. So would everyone else outside of this building, as far as she knew at this point.

Not that they'd last much longer, either. She'd seen what was in the basement. Hell, she'd fought against what was down there. Not that it did much. Lost some of her best men and women to masses of screaming intestines and fat men with the heads of drooling bulls and roiling protoplasmic piles of eyes. Those things were locked down there, for now, but who knows how long that'd last.

At the thought, she made up her mind and grabbed the vodka. She'd need some more in her if she really meant to do the honorable thing and blow her own brains out.
And then, there was the man. He could sense his compatriot's internal struggle, but he did nothing to stop or encourage it. She was strong, and capable of making her own decisions, even when blackout drunk. Something they have in common, he thought, as he tipped back a small pill bottle and swallowed the last two morphine tablets within.

Before him, on the grand mahogany desk, was a book and a vial. The latter was a delicate thing, thin, almost crystal-like glass and an antique cork stopper. It was filled with something that, to the untrained eye, was a bit hard to identify, to say the least. It was a wispy, almost ghost-like powder, light blue, almost white. Its movements were hard to describe when the vial was moved. But they were off, no doubt about it.

This was of secondary importance, however. The doctor had already examined this substance thoroughly. They'd gotten a good amount, after all. He'd seen it before. Long before he'd seen his compatriot in the room blast it out of a screeching tendril with a shotgun. He couldn't remember what state it was in. New England, for sure, around where he was now. There were recollections of a basement in an estate. A corporate retreat. Meeting the donors. The reputable men and women who fund research into modded sex slavery and turning homeless people into bio-weapons. Something to do with a "ritual," robes, and other bullshit. Something to do with "true alchemy," whatever that was supposed to mean.

Now he wished he had learnt what that was supposed to mean. Damn that donor's expensive wine and uncut cocaine.

It was no large worry, though. The book held the secrets, he was sure. It was hard to glean them, exactly. It was hard to read a book written in seven languages, two of which were obviously carefully manufactured ciphers. Either that, or he had just never encountered a language made of spiked triangles and swirls before. He'd met people who could speak and write in multiple languages in the past, but never a man or woman who could eloquently, hauntingly write in English, Spanish, Italian, French, and Latin before. Especially not while combining the five, sometimes in the same sentence.

Thankfully, he had all the time in the world and more. There was a lot of steel between him and the outside world, and a lot of guns between him and the basement. He had no idea how long it had been. Time sped up and slowed down at the whim of the chemical train he was a passenger on. His friend on the couch probably couldn't tell him her own name half the time. Sometimes he forgot his own.

His reading was interrupted by a knock on the steel door to the corridor outside. It was a steady, polite sound, delivered three times by a gloved hand.

"It's open." He rasped, unused to the clicking of his recently fanged teeth.

The door retreated into the slot at its side at the knocker's touch, revealing a relatively tall silhouette dressed in a lab coat much like his own.

"Ah. Ilyushin. Come in, sit."

The figure stepped forward a few paces, a stiffly pronounced gait, obviously somewhat tense.

"If this is about the dead guards, I've already notified you. They're to be fed to the subjects. We're low enough on food as it is.
 Hell, might be an improvement for them."
He coughed into his coat's sleeve, the woman on the couch finally looking over from the sound.

"It isn't about the dead, Hoyt." There was a pregnant pause, and a more pronounced tensing of the figure's form. "It's about the living."

One of the figure's gloved hands slipped into his coat pocket. There was a telltale mechanical click as he pulled the hammer back.

Rec Room / Re: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm
« on: December 22, 2017, 04:44:51 pm »
Hoyt's attention was pulled from Hector, and Carrol's from Lilith, as Kathrine made her way out of the RV on Nathaniel. Took a bit of convincing, it seemed. He doubted that was because of his amazing cooking. Could've been. But he doubted it. He clapped as Hector took Kathrine from Nathaniel, carrying her easily and making his way to the mutants.

"Woo! Look at that! Heartwarming, really. That's what I do, see? I bring people together." Hoyt muttered offhandedly, running his fingers through the pills and powder they'd brought for him. "Kermit, get the fuck down here. We're good."

This statement was followed by rustling from the second story of the hotel. A lithe, shadowy figure stalked down from the stairs with a rifle as large as him. He was about Hoyt's size, but not as athletic. He looked pretty average, at that. Plain face, plain brown hair, a plated leather jacket, and a pair of green cargo pants. He kept his eyes down on the ground timidly as he passed by the group from the farm. Despite his obvious non-confrontational attitude, he carried the rifle very well.

The figure with the rifle loped into the RV as Hoyt exited it, smiling wide with his needle-like fangs and gesturing happily to Kath. "Man of my word, eh? Really was a pleasure." He said, gesturing for Carrol to step away over to him and the RV. "Anyways. I'm pretty sure we're gonna be...around, from now on. Maybe right here. Dunno yet, but there definitely is a conglomeration of living people around here, and that's the basis of a good business, eh?" Hoyt laughed after this, before regaining something of a straight face and composing himself.

"We'll stay in touch, alright? You, that refugee center, all that around here. Believe me, this is the most people I've seen in a good four years." He laughed again, but there was a solemn tone to the laugh. His eyes lingered on Hector and Lilith as he leaned on the van, Carrol next to him.

Rec Room / Re: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm
« on: December 18, 2017, 04:13:10 am »
Carrol nonchalantly watched as Hector laid Mica down on the grass. The fumes had gotten to her. Seemed her mutations were more than just cosmetic. They were basic, seemingly, and horrific, but not as primitive or as deforming as some others she'd seen. Carrol didn't answer for a bit, as she was too busy lighting up another pungent hand-rolled cigar. Hadn't she just finished one?

"You don't. Starts to feel good after a while, though." She muttered disinterestedly, puffing a ring of smoke out of her mouth as she watched Lilith and Mica. She looked like she'd been a rather pretty woman, once. She still was, but it was a bit tainted. Her eyes looked too old. The whites were the color of egg yolks.

Hoyt, for one, wasn't paying much attention to Nathaniel speaking to Kath. In the fleeting moments Hector had gone into the van, he'd surveyed it much the same as Nathaniel. Normally, people'd stare at either the drugs or the guns. Which Nathaniel did. Hector, however, had paid far more attention to Hoyt's little library and the items it contained.

This interested Hoyt. Unhealthily so.

He leered at Hector through the open door of the van. Not menacingly, really. It almost seemed involuntary.

Rec Room / Re: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm
« on: December 14, 2017, 01:01:16 am »
"What you've heard is sure as hell true. Depends on the lab, mostly. What the feds couldn't afford was run by private corporations, and considering what exactly they were doing, they were given free reign of how to do it." Carrol responded, before looking to Hoyt on the note of the mutants getting restless.

"Sure. Right this way, gents." Hoyt nodded to Hector. He wasn't afraid of the mutants, but that didn't mean he'd like to get eaten by them for nothing. "Open the door, would you, Carrol?" At Hoyt's request, Carrol stepped over to the side door of the battered RV, swinging it open for him to lead the others through.

An overpowering, indescribably strong scent of chemicals suffused the place. It wasn't a bad smell, exactly. There wasn't anything overly foul about it, but anybody unused to it would probably have their head swimming after a few breaths. It was like living in a factory's smokestack. It looked to have been a relatively nice family luxury vehicle, the type of thing you'd take the kids and the wife up north with. Now, it was a house, drug lab, and living space, all at once.

The rear portion of the RV was rather crowded, but it wasn't exactly messy. Everything was packed tightly together, but orderly. The end opposite of the door was crowded with guns and ammunition. A veritable armory, and a strange variety. It looked like a military surplus museum. A few kits and tools related to firearm repair and reloading sat on the counter beside the weapons in their crates and racks. Next to these, it seemed, was a little kitchen, oddly enough. A hotplate, dining trays, silverware, and a large assortment of packed, non-perishable food, along with a few burlap bags containing heaps of skillfully foraged wild vegetables and mushrooms. A small booth with leather seats and a folding table sat to the right of the kitchen.

A counter situated next to the table and booth held some interesting things. A large assortment of books was visible in the lower bookshelf portion of the thing, mostly philosophical essays and old poetry interspersed with chemical textbooks and...strange-looking manila envelopes covered in printed numbers. Up top, though, was another story. Leather-bound, moldering tomes of indeterminate age leaned up against a big glass container. It was filled to the brim with a wispy, somewhat luminescent powder. Any onlookers familiar with something similar could probably hazard a guess at its origin. Beside this container sat a few bizarre trinkets: a human skull etched with strange runes, a small, ornate charm of silver and bone, and a golden ring with a trident-like motif emblazoned on it in silver.

The side with the door was packed with narcotics. A good half of the RV, that is. It looked like a federal evidence locker. It was obscene. There were unidentifiable bundles of one crystalline substance or another stacked ten high next to milk cartons filled to the brim with pill bottles. There were smudged glass vials with off-color liquids within next to extra-large freezer bags filled to bursting with colorful capsules in chalky beach-party colors. Sizable bricks of hashish jostled for space with bundles of dried mushrooms bound together with rough twine.

Left led to the driver and passenger seats, and right led to a small closed door. Most likely the back of the RV. Sleeping quarters, storage space, something like that.

"Welcome to my humble establishment. See anything you like? Everything's for sale. Er, well, most things. Almost everything." Hoyt listlessly muttered as he strode into the main aisle of the RV, looking back at the others expectantly.

Rec Room / Re: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm
« on: December 09, 2017, 03:38:13 am »
"We did our parts, pal. Wasn't much, honestly. You got labs summoning demons and experimenting with world-subjugating fungus, and we got givin' people cat ears and little fangs, eh?" Hoyt answered Hector, flashing his own razor-sharp, needle-like teeth. "Sometimes, yeah, you get something important, military contracts, private security sculpting, stuff like that, but that's rare, I'll say. Just why you don't see many Liliths around, heh."

Carrol's mood probably would've been soured if she'd heard Hoyt talking about their line of work, but she was too busy staring at Lilith. She didn't seem fazed whatsoever by the snarling or the fact that she was ten feet tall. When the bio-weapon flexed somewhat ridiculously, even, Carrol only smiled and quietly clapped. She only shrugged at Mica's question, having barely heard her.

"Bug get cub in a second, Lilith. Everything's fine." Hoyt added, looking to the two men again. "Anything else you wanted to add?"

Rec Room / Re: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm
« on: December 07, 2017, 02:50:24 am »
Hoyt nodded at the other introductions, a smile now visible on his face. "Yes, the man-eating spider-person, and the bio-weapon, I see. How endearing. Doubt they drink, hm?" He asked without waiting for an answer, walking closer to inspect the goods, seemingly with little to no care to the two deadly mutants' frustration and excitement. He had two glasses in his hand, which he handed to the two men to free up his hands for the inspection of the suitcase and the powder. The one given to Hector was the Riesling, and the one given to Nathaniel was the vodka. After all, he'd said Hector was more of a lightweight than him.

"Marvelous. Uncut. Fuckin' impossible to find these days. And we've got a good variety in the case, as well. Aw, aspirin. How thoughtful." Hoyt muttered with a chuckle, before snapping the case closed. "Come now, Lily, don't get too impatient. Cub's safe and sound, right, Carrol?" He called behind himself.

Carrol stepped a bit closer to Lilith, somewhat transfixed. "Absolutely right. Goddamn, this really what the others were working on? Should've asked for a transfer, made livin' art like this, 'stead of cobbling together sex slaves for corporate bucks..." She whispered aloud, stepping up next to Hoyt to get a closer look at the two mutants.

Rec Room / Re: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm
« on: December 05, 2017, 11:16:25 pm »
Hoyt nodded to the men as he unfolded the little table, which now rather visibly had two white cardboard boxes on it. He rested two bottles beside the boxes, one tall, one stout. When he was good and sure the surface was stable and the bottles were safe, he looked back up and addressed them.

"Hoyt Upton." He pointed to the woman. "Carrol Hitchcock. Kathrine's fine. I saw to that. The woman who hurt her is dead. She didn't go nicely. I also saw to that. The chat's optional. The payment isn't. But you people seem nice, and you've got to be strong. And I like to know nice, strong people. And this is some damn good vodka."

Rec Room / Re: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm
« on: December 05, 2017, 09:42:23 pm »
Colorful collection of characters, to say the least. Hoyt stayed silent in his position on the seat, his legs resting on the asphalt, his eyes regarding the group that'd rounded the corner. Two men, obviously human. One small, one big, the big one dressed like....a crusader? Then the other two. Women, seemingly. Hoyt's eye twitched when he saw the spider-thing that'd eaten the big guy back near the bridge. Also interesting was the massive tiger-woman. He'd seen bio-weapons before, though they weren't his expertise at the lab. He'd focused on cosmetic mutations and corporate pet projects, among other things. But that right there, that was the finished product.

Carrol hadn't even looked up from the spot on the ground she was staring at. Her cigarette smoldered and dripped ash onto the pavement. She didn't seem to be all there. That is, until Hoyt banged his hand on the windshield and she looked up. She regarded the newcomers with a look of...disinterest? She didn't even move from her lean on the hood.

Hoyt finally moved once Carrol was paying a little more attention. He hiked himself up and jumped down from his seat onto the ground, straightening his coat. He was his own colorful character, honestly. His too-pale skin almost shone in the sunlight, and his winning smile was slightly marred by his needle-like fangs. He wasn't overly tall, and didn't look like he weighed too much, having something of a featherweight boxer look to him. He had on a tattered lab coat over a dress shirt and waistcoat, then a sleeveless leather duster over this. Combat boots, hand wraps, and a wool beret rounded out his appearance. He wasn't obviously armed, besides a large hunting knife in a sheath on his belt.

Carrol was pretty visible from her position, unmoving as ever. She was tall. She was huge. She would've looked at home in a prison guard's uniform. Or woodland army camo. Instead, she was in a lab coat too. A lab coat, that is, over a bulky bullet resistant vest, and beneath a rather luxurious fur car coat. A large sword was rather obviously strapped to her back, among the other knives and blades half-hidden across her body, in addition to the suspicious bulging pockets across her two coats. A pistol-grip police Remington was propped up against the van next to her.

"Farm boy, I'm assuming? Splendid to finally meet you folks." Hoyt's rasp of a voice did somehow convey real charm and politeness in this case. He stepped up over to the side of the RV, popping open the door to retrieve a....folding TV tray table, a few objects visible on it.

"Come on over. Let's have a chat, eh? I've got batter fried carp and rhubarb pie. Some premium vodka, too, or some sweet Riesling if you prefer something lighter."

Rec Room / Re: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm
« on: December 03, 2017, 06:55:59 pm »
The ride to the motel was a rather long one. The road that led to it winded north for a decent while, before looping around to another road that winded south for a decent while. The drive itself was uneventful in that the RV didn't encounter anything besides the occasional squirrel, raccoon, or possum scurrying across the side of the road. Inside the van, however, it was a different story.

Kathrine was still in the back, as usual. Whether she was unconscious or not, nobody else knew. She was quiet even when she was awake. The other three occupants were up front, and they sure as hell were not unconscious.


Hoyt's scratchy, frenetic voice rang out loud. He was driving, as usual, with Carrol sitting next to him, and Kermit next to her. Hoyt had his eyes on the road, but his mouth on the glass pipe Carrol was holding beneath his head. There was a lighter beneath it, and something crystalline burning inside. His pupils almost swallowed the whites of his eyes. Carrol herself was staring at the road, too. She'd gotten used to multitasking. Once Hoyt was finished, she resumed her earlier task-fastening the old-fashioned bulletproof vest she had on fully, and arranging perfectly the massive assortment of knives, hidden and obvious alike, spread across her body.

Kermit had his eyes on the large box in his lap. It was usually his job to do what he was doing, though Hoyt liked to sometimes. Once he'd loaded all seven pistols in the box fully, he turned to the three shotguns next to him, and he loaded them up too. One was a Remington, a nice utilitarian item from the back of a police car. The other two were full-length double-barreled things, lovingly cared for, probably with a good few ducks and deer under their belts. Once he was good and ready, Quintero pulled three of the handguns from the box and fastened them to his holsters. A long-barreled, old-fashioned Colt .45 1911 on his belt, plain for all to see, a slightly less conspicuous Five-Seven in a side holster beneath his jacket, and a compact .38 Ruger snub-nose in an ankle holster above his boots. The jacketed bullets in the cylinder twinkled in the light of the van. He reached into his pocket and produced a nerve-calming lump of hash, which he ate with a bit of Hoyt's jerkied venison so as to not upset his stomach.

The van coasted on over to the motel soon enough. It was a desolate, lonely place. The paint was peeling and the windows were broken. It might've looked like that before the Cataclysm. No way to tell.

Hoyt turned the van over to the little parking lot, between the main building, pool, and something like a gazebo. There were other ruined cars here and there, but Hoyt's van was obviously not among them. He'd be visible enough. He opened his driver's-side door, leaning his legs out of the van itself. He didn't get out, though.

Carrol did. She stepped out through the side door from the back of the van, before looping back around the vehicle and stopping at the hood. She leaned on it nonchalantly, a potent rolled cigarette clamped in the corner of her mouth.

Kermit wordlessly left from the passenger door. There was a rifle in his hands. It was huge. He was somewhat small, but he carried it as well as anyone as he walked up the motel's stairs.

Rec Room / Re: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm
« on: December 01, 2017, 02:30:34 pm »
"East, but we already scouted some places out, heh. Down by that big conclave of survivors next to your farm, yeah? There's a motel, north of it. Looks clear enough. I think that'd be a nice spot. If you don't have any better ideas, we'll be there first." Hoyt answered Nathaniel, idly playing around with a lighter in his off-hand. Carrol and Kermit were listening in silently. There wasn't anything for them to add, but this still seemed important enough to listen in.

Rec Room / Re: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm
« on: November 29, 2017, 09:39:08 pm »
They pulled in soon enough. The place was relatively unchanged.

A spacious orchard, right off a small dead-end dirt path, with a little colonial-style barn and storage and a more modern processing plant. It was beautiful, not that anyone commented on it. The distinct lack of being lived and worked in didn't have a negative effect on this place. It looked abandoned, sure, but the way the grass grew so high gave it an air of fantasy. The trees were spread out across a large field, a little further than the eye could rightly see. Apples, Granny Smith and Red Delicious, grew around smaller sections of seckel pears and sour baking cherries. A huge dirt lot separated the barn and storage from the processing plant.

Hoyt slowed the van down as they coasted in by the storage building. The van was switched into park, but everyone stayed sitting in the car. They'd stayed here a few weeks ago, and from the look of the place, it hadn't been inhabited since. But the van was home, and they didn't feel like getting out just yet.

During the brief silence after the park, the transceiver's microphone rang out. Farm boy.

"All's good with me, buddy. However you can get it to us. Don't care if you use a fighter plane to drop it all off. You could roll up in three APC's and I'd be fine, long as I get my narcotics, heh." Hoyt paused for a second, before speaking up once again. "There's an orchard. Somewhat north of your apparent location. We're there. Girl's fine. Wants to go back, seems like. We'll talk more once you get here. I don't have to lecture you on funny business. You sound like good people. I'm interested in business once this is all over."

Rec Room / Re: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm
« on: November 25, 2017, 07:03:24 am »
"Well, this is going way better than I thought it would. I expected a bunch of machine-gun wielding white knights to show up and either kill us all or get killed by us all." Kermit mused from his place in the passenger seat. Carrol was in the back with the girl.

"Reasonable assumption, honestly." Hoyt admitted from his own position in the driver's seat as they coasted along the open road. More featureless plains and forests. It looked the fucking same, which pissed him off, to a degree. It was the apocalypse. There were zombies animated by black blobs from another dimension. There were big fucking spiders and spider people and bio-weapons and fish-gut-head crabs that spoke in human voices.

But New England was still just fucking plains and fucking forests.

"This the way to that orchard?" Kermit's gaze wasn't on the road. He had a new book opened up in his lap, which he thumbed through in between taking sips from a cool glass of vodka beside him.

"That it is."

Hoyt wasn't thinking or feeling much at the moment. Wasn't much to think or feel. There was the prospect of an okay payday at the conclusion of this little venture, but that prospect depended on a lot of things going right. The guy on the radio seemed nice enough. But giant tiger women and a knight in a tank? Hoyt had faced worse in the past, he'd admit to himself. The first few days? The shit that poured out of the lab's fucking basement and ate half his colleagues? The shit he'd seen on the road, in the dead cities, in isolated cabins in the backwoods of whatever state they were even in? Yeah, he'd seen worse. But that didn't mean things couldn't go wrong. As they often did.

Carrol didn't really know the girl, even if they'd stayed in this van for a sizable amount of time together. She wasn't talkative. "She" here referring to either of them, honestly. The girl-Kath-was in and out of painkiller-induced dazes, and when she wasn't dosed up, she just seemed sad and confused.

Carrol had dealt with people like that before. Sad, confused, didn't know where they were, spent every morning waking up to the feeling of a syringe being pushed into their arm. She'd kept people like that locked in that lab for years on end. How long had she worked there, with Hoyt? How much of a haze did they need to put themselves through to forget the details? She didn't hit the hard stuff as much as him, but then again, he was the one who really did what the guys up top wanted done to those people. She just kept them contained.

The girl in front of her was one of the ones she kept contained. There was no doubt about it. Carrol didn't recognize her. Not really. The faces melded together over the years. Melded together into a big, lonely, confused morass. Not that she saw the subjects often. She was head of security, not a patrolman. Most of the work she did was silencing guilty eggheads who'd been tipped over the edge by what they'd done. But those mutations weren't cheap. They weren't homegrown sewer mutagen, that was for sure. She couldn't be one of the government subjects. Those always involved turning them into fucked-up bio-weapons or brain-twisting super-spies. The girl in front of her was a private pet project, most likely. Intended to be sold to the highest bidder at one of the lab's donor auctions. Whether or not that was better or worse than ripping insurgents apart in a chemical-induced eternal rage wasn't a debate Carrol wanted to have with herself.

"You don't seem mean to me, hon. And trust me, me and that guy driving the van? We know mean real well."

Rec Room / Re: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm
« on: November 23, 2017, 12:03:28 am »
"Didn't say I could take 'em, buddy, said we could take care of ourselves!" Hoyt lightheartedly yelled into the transceiver, before silently waving at it as Nathaniel left to tell his compatriots.

"M701, eh?"
"Expected 'em to have something like that, honestly."
"What do we have like that?"
"Rocket launchers, grenades, a fuckton of guns, an armored truck, and stimulants. Also, Carrol."
"Fine. Fair."

Elsewhere in the RV, Carrol turned over to Kathrine from her seated position, one of her potent cigars clamped in her teeth. "Catnip, huh? That the girl the little boy on the radio mentioned, darlin'? Guessin' you'll be seeing her pretty soon, don't worry."

Rec Room / Re: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm
« on: November 22, 2017, 09:55:04 pm »
Hoyt laughed a bit at Nathaniel's admittance, but it was a decidedly joking, lighthearted laugh, not particularly mocking. "No shame in that, buddy. I'd have probably just shot all of them if a firefight involving big spiders hadn't started. And yeah, painkillers, antiseptic, stuff like that, sounds good."

He mulled over the description of the farm's inhabitants for a bit, staying silent on the line as he did. "Colorful characters. I wouldn't be averse to meeting a few of them. Might be hard, keeping something like this a secret. Don't factor my well-being into this little hand-off, heh. We can take care of ourselves."

Rec Room / Re: CDDA: Adventures in Cataclysm
« on: November 22, 2017, 01:27:03 am »
"Eh, let's equate the food with some more of option numero uno, eh? Oxy, codeine, morphine, heroin, whatever you've got on hand. You can go ahead and guess a reasonable amount." Hoyt answered the first of the three questions, before deliberating on the others. "Hell yeah, she's doing alright. Shouldn't be in much pain at all since her little accident, and I consider myself as skilled a cook as I am a doctor, I'll tell ya."

The third question was a bit more confusing. "Guy we cold clocked? The little fella who shot the guy trying to save her? If he's with you guys, sure. I don't care who gets it together."

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