'So Shiny, So Chrome' takes place 13 years after The Fall, a combination of the Oil Wars that came to a climax with a nuclear event. Our setting is the Wasteland, once the Australian outback. Wildlife mutated by radiation prowls the wasteland; weather is harsh and highly unpredictable; roving gangs of survivors fight for what remains of precious resources.
What a day, what a lovely day.
----- Season: Winter Weather: Days 8°C/Nights -10°C
Winter has descended once again on the Wasteland as merciless as ever. Days are cold, and with little cover the high winds are all the more biting; even without snow, hypothermia and frostbite are a constant threat. The only relief is that many of the Wasteland's creatures are in hibernation.
After 11 years out in the Wasteland, the commander of the Anzacs Nolan 'Chief' O'Rourke finally knows the location of his beloved ship, thanks to a legionnaire named Fergal Collins. The Anzacs are preparing an expeditionary party to find the lost ship, and hopefully uncover some answers as to what happened to her crew and Collins' fellow Legionnaires.
Having forged an alliance with the Pathfinders through their 2nd-in-command Crash, the Anzacs have welcomed their new allies to join them on this journey as well... into the highly radioactive heart of the once-great city of Sydney, Australia.
This event is not limited to the Anzacs and Pathfinders! Members from other factions are welcome to get involved: someone looking to raid the expeditionary party, opportunists seeing the movements the factions are making, anyone vying for membership trying to tag along... get creative!
Post by Nolan 'Chief' O'Rourke on Oct 16, 2016 14:07:13 GMT -5
Nolan 'Chief' O'Rourke anzacs | 48 | male | max martini Semper Fortis
It seemed utterly surreal, packing up his loadout, combat first aid kit, even dusting off his old helmet cover the same as he'd done on his various tours to the Middle East. Only there was a very crucial difference in this case... Nolan and his unit were setting out to find his old ship. His last home. And the last place he'd seen nearly 1800 of his Sailors and Marines some 11 years ago.
And all thanks to an unwelcome visitor that had rather literally fallen into their lives a handful of months ago.
Collins was a piece of work that reminded Nolan strongly of Rowler, if Augustus had better control over his temper; as promised, he'd given the Legionnaire his hat (kepi, apparently) back in advance of this trip he'd be leading them on.
And on that note, Nolan made sure to lay out his HAZMAT gear. Nolan didn't need to be a doctor or a physicist to know that with how hard Sydney had gotten hit, it was probably still highly radioactive; it would be an uncomfortable several days (or however long they were there, if they even found the ship) being unable to take off the suit and gas mask, but there wasn't a thing Nolan could think of that would stop him from making this trip in particular.
He was, though, having Alex O'Rourke stay behind; it would do the Anzacs no good not to have any medics handy in case something went wrong.
Post by Alex O'Rourke on Oct 18, 2016 15:19:31 GMT -5
Alex busied herself inventorying everything that was being loaded up. With a quick glance around, she noted basically everyone was going... except apparently her. It left her slightly sour, a mild scowl on her face as she ticked away with a little blackened stick. She had grown up considerably since the early days when it wouldn't have been feasible for her to go on this sort of trek, but now she felt capable. At least, more so than some. She wanted to go, and it gnawed at her so much more than anything ever had before.
Whipping around when Nolan spoke to her, asking what had been forgotten, she pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes behind his back. "Yeah... me." She grumbled lightly, but tried to hide it with a quick exasperation "Everything looks to be in order, sir." Did he think she wouldn't be able to handle it?
Turning her back again, she couldn't help but sulk as she crouched closer to a crate filled with odds and ends. She rifled through it carefully, only finding it to be a bunch of banged up tools. It wasn't until she knocked over a crowbar that she quickly rose to her feet. It was Auggie's stuff. With an eye roll and crossed arms she about faced. "Dad." Her voice was blunt, unhindered by control. She didn't quite want to hide anymore with how hurt she was that she didn't get to go. This seemed so important on so many levels. "Rowler's going? I know bringing a mechanic is a good idea, but he can't..." Alex shut her mouth stopping short, not even sure what she was going to say... what argument would work? That Aug would be useless for anything aside from fixing the vehicles should they need it? That Alex had spent hours practicing everything from medicine to marksmanship? While Aug flung about with a crowbar causing trouble? Running her fingers across her freshly shaven head she looked to the grit and gravel beneath her boots. "I think it's incredibly important that I go with you." Alex eyed Nolan carefully while dropping her arms to her sides.
Post by Alex O'Rourke on Oct 19, 2016 17:28:26 GMT -5
Alex was stiff. Her eyes flicked away, counting stones on the ground. This was outside of her realm really, throwing a fit to get her way. It wasn't her style, it was so foreign but she just wanted him to say yes. That was it. If not, she was still going to go. She felt the strongest urge to prove herself as something more than a nurse, she could be more useful than just patching up people, always several steps behind her dad. Part of it came from her and was entirely a genuine feeling, the other half came from whatever bullshit Aug spewed at her when he decided to be irritable. But she saw some truth in it, and that was all that mattered to her. Alex was fully aware that barely even a skeleton crew was hanging back, they'd be doing nothing more than the barest minimum... if there was fault or injury in that that couldn't be handled amongst them... well, there was no hope for anyone. That was just how she saw it.
"Fine." She spat, still hanging awkwardly caught against her father. There was already an alternative, the shit-starter mechanic had already filled her head with enough nonsense that weaseling her onto one of the trucks was thoroughly thought out between the two. Seeming to bounce back, Alex hesitantly returned the embrace with a slight pat on her father's back. "Well, I'm gunna go make sure the other vehicles are proper." Alex said with a forced smile. The faultiest part of the plan was that she knew Nolan could see right through her. He knew her too damn well, but then again he probably didn't know much of her slowly growing rebellious nature.
With that she broke away and started walking with a purpose. She had to make it to Aug's truck, but only after checking one more thing. Alex had already performed all the inventory... she really had nothing more to busy herself with. On her way she glared at Augustus as he sorely made his way down from the caves. Their shared glare spoke volumes as they each continued to move in their predetermined directions. She was going, no matter how pissed Nolan got... she just had to survive in the bed of a truck among crates and whatnot for an hour or two before revealing herself. Alex highly doubted anyone would be turning back from that point to drop her off with a reprimand.
Post by Augustus Rowler on Oct 19, 2016 17:43:26 GMT -5
Augustus was healed well enough, at least his face and most of the cuts were. There was still some bruising around his eye but it had faded considerably and he was extremely lucky he could still see well. His sides ached constantly while his ribs tried to mend, he hardly followed orders for light duty and had done further damage at least once a week since he came to.
Clutching at the bandaging wrapped around his mid section he watched Alex walk further down the line. Her pissy face was a dead give away that he was probably going to get himself in trouble. She was trying to be "hard", tough... but in the end he knew she was just a daddy's girl and when it came down to it, she'd crack and dump the blame all over him. Aug wasn't ready to give a damn about it though, she wanted to get out there so bad despite the conditions of some people she saw coming back in from all the brutality, so be it. She could go see for herself she was lucky.
He slowly made his way, having just rolled out of his rack he wasn't entirely up to par. He'd endured everything without a lick of medication, at least nothing that would make him feel better... so he had taken to sleeping more often in an attempt to ignore the pain. It had become more that he slept frequently to actually sleep in between bouts of discomfort. Nolan was bustling about with whatever gear he had in front of him and Aug made his way to the side of the truck, straightened his coveralls and leaned against the warmed siding. With a sigh he eyed his tool box and faithful crowbar, "So, how much longer boss-man?" There wasn't the usual amount of liveliness in his tone, he lacked his typical disrespect as he looked again to Nolan. Now was not the time to have this particular man up his ass if he was going to smuggle Alex along for a ride.
Post by Fergal Collins on Oct 27, 2016 18:35:31 GMT -5
Fergal was walking around the assembled vehicles, wondering which one he was going to be travelling in. His spirits were much higher now that his Kepi had been returned along with most of his kit. Hauling the bag with all of his non lethal earthly belongings strapped to it towards Nolan he saw the aggravating mechanic was already talking to him. Taking a different tactic he began to wander with a vacant expression on his face like a private fresh out of boot, assuming one of the other senior Anzacs would get annoyed and yell at him regarding where he was meant to go.
Crash rolled his Daytona to a stop at the rendezvous point and let his rumble at an idle for a few minutes before shutting it down. He had topped off his tanks before he left, and hoped that the anzacs where bringing spare fuel. He had brought along plenty of toys and ammo for the trip and had them secured in ammo boxes in the daytona's trunk, along with a few cases of MREs. He had enough water for a 7 day trip, and he prayed they wouldn't be there that long. This was the first time in quite a few years he was even going anywhere near a metro area.
He lit up a cigarette as he surveyed the land around his car. He knew he had the fastest thing for miles, but didn't like the idea of anyone getting to close without back up. He wondered if any of the other Pathfinders would show up, he knew Scrapper was a bit cross with him about taking so many supplies and heavy caliber arms but Crash would rather have some heavy hitters if they needed it. Although the shoulder mounted laser guided rocket launcher sitting in his back seat may have been a bit much but hey, no kill quite like overkill.
Roughly twenty minutes after Crash's arrival, he was awarded a new addition. The powerful heavy rumble of Thunderchild's engine sounded the arrival one of the Pathfinder's most powerful war machines. The large machine however spouted something new for this trip out, the truck's over cab light bar had been removed, and a sand bag emplacement had been set up that allowed a 50 caliber machine gun to be mounted on a pintal over the cab, operated by a Pathfinder who stood behind the machine gun, with its gleaming belt of 50 caliber visible from the ammo box mounted to it's side, and just in front of the assembly for the tow truck's huge boom.
The tow truck was also towing behind it the same flat bed trailer it had hauled months ago to Bartertown. However the flatbed was missing it's two supply containers it normally carried, the trailer was empty, except for a dozen fuel and water drums lashed to it, surrounded by protective sandbags and scrap metal and some crates.
Scrapper had left it up to a volunteer basis on who from the Wash would participate in from Scrapper's point of view as a glorified fishing expedition. Sure it was possible a warship got drove so far inland during the mess of the last resource war but he had his doubts. He didn't want to many of Pathfinder's resources depleted if this turned out to be a wild goose chase. Thunderchild carried a small detachment of them however, besides the well swaddled, gas mask wearer who was behind the big Browning Machine gun, four others rode on the truck or on the trailer behind sandbag emplacements.
Scrapper eased the Freightliner to a stop near Crash's machine, and then climbed down out of the truck.
Last Edit: Jan 2, 2017 20:31:48 GMT -5 by Scrapper
Crash didn't have to look over to recognize the rumble of thunderchilds engine. He was shocked that scrapper of all people showed up, and was even more surprised to see the modifications and fellow pathfinders Onboard as well. He hopped out of the Daytona and walked around ton the front of thunderchild and offered a hand out towards scrapper.
"Now this is a surprise, good to see ya brotha." He remarked.
Post by frakkinrowdy on Oct 30, 2016 22:49:35 GMT -5
Anna wore tinted goggles that covered her eyes and a large swath of her face. What those didn't cover was hidden behind the shemagh tied around her neck and shoved over the bridge of her nose, the neck tucked into the collar of her favorite gray sweater. The Pathfinders might have taken care of her pretty well for a while now, but there was no hope for her wardrobe. She still wore a winter coat- an overly large fur lined thing that she had cinched at the wrists with some makeshift leather bracers made out of her old boots. The fur on the inside of the hood was off some poor mutated creature that once roamed the desert. Probably a coyote but she didn't care much what it used to be, it had served her well this past winter. It was pushed back onto her shoulders. The jacket and the hood concealed her thin frame but that mess of black waves tied in a knot on top of her head would give her away to anyone who truly knew her.
She had not been afforded a lot of time to get used to the pitch and yaw of the Freightliner, especially standing- this ride over probably the longest she had spent in one stretch behind the weapon but she had found it almost relaxing. At least so far as there had been no bullets or fire flung at her head. Things would change. She had found herself agitated with life these days and this little fishing trip would be just the cure. She didn't particularly care what the point was, she just wanted to get out and do something. She missed the road and, if nothing happened it was a little vacation. If she died, well... she'd just have to make sure she dragged a few bastards to Valhalla with her.
For now, Thunderchild settled and she heard the squeal of Scrapper's door open. She'd seen the Daytona. Everyone knew he had gone out ahead, on his own. She watched the two men meet at the front of the truck with a birds-eye, front row view and though she leaned, casually thumbing the handle on the backplate of the gun, as if she had no intention of moving, as if she preferred a nap- Anna listened as intensely as always.
Post by Nolan 'Chief' O'Rourke on Nov 4, 2016 18:04:30 GMT -5
Nolan 'Chief' O'Rourke anzacs | 48 | male | max martini Semper Fortis
Having gone through his quarters and the infirmary (twice), Nolan was at last satisfied that he had everything he needed; this would be the first time the Anzacs ventured out so far, and the first time in over a decade that Nolan had been in his full combat deployment kit. His kevlar vest, unfortunately, had expired years ago and was only becoming less and less effective with time, but it was still better than nothing; Nolan put his helmet on, letting the chin straps dangle as he made his way down to the motor pool.
Anzacs were half-running hurriedly between vehicles, double- and triple-checking their supplies while squad leaders mustered their people. Considering where they were going, there wasn't a single person without a HAZMAT suit belonging to one country's military or another; it was going to be an uncomfortable couple weeks, depending how soon one of their jury-rigged Geiger counters necessitated full suit-up and gas masks.
The Unimog was stocked with as many first aid materials as they could spare for this expedition, and Nolan pointedly secured his ruck in the small gap between the driver's seat and the back of the cabin. Kirby was more or less in charge, and let loose 3 loud, high bursts on Nolan's borrowed boatswain's whistle signaling it was time to move out; they had set up a rendezvous point with the Pathfinders that wanted to accompany them.
Post by Nathaniel J. Crawford on Nov 4, 2016 19:33:37 GMT -5
Nathaniel J. Crawford, the third was the kind of man who always kept his gear in working order and checked on it at least once a month if not more often. His weapons got even more attention than that, getting a good clean once a week and every time they had been fired. So while he knew beyond a doubt that his gear was as functional as possible after more than a decade in storage in a cold and damp cave, he had still spent quite a lot of time going over every square centimetre of the HAZMAT suit, checking that the filters for the gas mask wouldn't give up the ghost midway through the mission and making sure all his extra magazines for both sniper rifle and pistol were loaded correctly.
He'd even gone as far as fix up the ghillie suit, adding a few new bits and pieces of shrubbery and patches to make it blend in with desert conditions. The likelihood of it coming to any use was near zero, but it didn't stop him from stashing the suit under his seat in the back of the Unimog, along with his pack. Just in case. For the moment, of course, there was no need for stealth, not when rolling out in a convoy, which would be as visible out in the desert as a lighthouse on a clear and dark night.
Wearing full combat gear, uncomfortable and worn as it was, Nate waited as long as he could before climbing into the back, taking his place among the medical and first aid gear, keeping his rifle close at hand. He would have preferred to make the trip on his bike, but that was both impractical once they had to change over to HAZMAT and too expensive when it came to fuel. Not to mention that firing a rifle while riding a bike was damn near impossible. So overall, riding in the back of the Unimog was the best solution even if it wasn't the one the sniper preferred.
Scrapper climbed down out of the Thunderchild's armored cab, letting the door swing easily on it's hinges but he stopped short of letting the door close again. It was easy to see the Pathfinder had decided to add a few things to his normal attire and a quartet of grenades and a holstered 45 that gleamed with oil rode on the combat belt around his waist. His trademark shotgun however laid on the cracked dash of the massive truck. He also carried a canvas pouch with a brick like object in his left hand.
He took a look around as he walked up to Crash and took the out stretched hand with his free hand. "Ya forgot this."
Scrapper opened the canvas pouch's flap and showed a scratched and dented Geiger counter, one of the four working ones that the Pathfinders owned.
"Given nukes carried this thing so far inland, good chance she gonna be hotter then an engine block out here."
Scrapper handed the counter and it's carrying bag to the other man. Despite the glass lenses of Scrapper's mask, the amusement in the former Patrol officer's eyes and body language was unmistakable.
He jabbed a thumb toward the like new Browning 50 caliber on the roof of his truck, with the gunner behind it.
"Brought along some extra insurance for this fishing trip as well."
Post by Alex O'Rourke on Nov 11, 2016 18:48:37 GMT -5
Alex was trying to block out the gnawing feeling that she was doing something horrible. It was very rare for her to disobey orders, and if she did it was in the slightest way or carefully for the better. This felt big. She was leaving the Homestead with nothing more than basic bandaging and wound care... maybe if someone got sick they might know the simplest of remedies. She was a stowaway for something that could turn treacherous.
Idling her way to Auggie's truck she stood at the tail gate, watching from a slight distance as Aug appeared attempting to speak to Nolan before grabbing his things and painfully moving towards his vehicle. Ferg was there now, Alex lifted her hand to shade her eyes, squinting through long lashes she saw Nate come about. She was so screwed.
Biting her lips she shoved a faded black bag along the bed, sewn and patched so many times it was softer than it was meant to be. It was her favorite and just the right size to hold what little she felt she needed. There were two barrels in the back along with a few other random items. She was to hide between the drums, lay down if need be. Looking back to her dad, she noticed he wasn't paying much mind so she took her chance. Hoisting herself into the truck bed she clambered to the back. She was just short enough that for now she could sit up and have some air before she surrounded herself with the bulky items. Sighing heavily Alex attempted to rid her anxiety but it was an uphill battle.