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Rec Room / Re: A History of Time to Come

« Last post by saltmummy626 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

« Last post by saltmummy626 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

« Last post by saltmummy626 on September 03, 2021, 03:52:34 pm »

Mario music intensifies

General Discussion / Re: Last Man Posting: -50% SHENANIGANS

« Last post by Wheel-Son on September 03, 2021, 04:38:23 am »

no NO AAA--

Rec Room / Re: A History of Time to Come

« Last post by saltmummy626 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."