The Oddfather, Part I

[Bullet Magnet]

As is my understanding, Gretin and E'l Scrabino are mere minutes after my initial post, then Used's first posts are more or less simultaneous with it, and his last was before Rich's visit to the hotel bar. I am currently awaiting the whole thing to blow up in my face as the NSSU station comes under siege, and Slaveless, Turf does not appear to have arrived at Nolybab just yet, so he can enter the story at any point (preferrably the here and now). It does come down to the location of the Oddfather, so lets agree from now on that only one person uses him at a time, with the exception of flashbacks if they fit with the story.

[Dark Elite_H2]

Actually, I'm getting confused with the seetings of the story.
It's sunny, then all of a sudden it's rainy. I can understand that the docks can seem a bit rainy.
Someone clarify me. What is the setting of the story?
-Time of day
-Weather
That sort'a mumbo-jumbo.

[Bullet Magnet]

That's true. Everyone is so keen on setting the scene and atmosphere in their posts that they are choosing the weather and time to suit the occassion. And of course, the early posts often describe the character's arrival in Nolybab or their recent history. Let's let everything lie as it is, and pick it up:

Late at night, raining. About 10, but getting later. Lloyd and some mobsters are gathering at the NSSU station and Knuckles and Goonie are heading out to the quays awaiting a delivery scheduled past midnight.

[used:)]

Dark Elite, you are still on the outskirts of Nolybab, are you not? If Nolybab is to be based in part off Ney York City, then it is very, very large. So the weather in others' locations may not be the same weather for you.

Also, what exactly are basing the architecture of the city off of? I've been sort of looking at it like the unused OWI illustrations by Silvio Aebischer.

[Bullet Magnet]

Hmm. Perhaps someone can comp together a map?

I picture a very gothic like city, not unlike Sin City, or Gotham, the image largely inspired by the feel of the RPG, as opposed to hard evidence.

I also reckon there should be a big freeway, held up above the ground, and one end incomplete.

But we are getting away from the story and characters a bit here.

[Dark Elite_H2]

Good. That's an excellent starter. (Although I started my character in the early afternoon...I guess I'll somehow make it fit.. )

And should Nolybab be like Manhattan, if yer thinkin' like that? Or altered very differently?

[used:)]

Nolybab is meant to be a twisted version of Hollywood, but also a metroplois. If we're basing it more on NYC, then it shouldn't just be a Manhattan, it should be an enormous city with the sub cities like Queens, Manhattan, Brooklym and the Bronx.

Hmm, I just had an idea, how about a sub city mainly inhabited by slave Mudokons called the Bronks? Just a thought.

[Rich]

I like the idea of it being huge and having different districts, the area where the mafia is based is the bustling downtown area, complete with skscrapers, IE Manhattan. But there are mudokon and outlaw slums on the outskirts, sprawling areas of tower blocks, an area of very expensive mansions where the Oddfather's house is located, a huge district of warehouses, factories and docklands, ect...

[Bullet Magnet]

I also like combining it a bit with Las Vegas from the fifties andd sixties, when I was run by the mafia...

Hence, the Lucky Scrab Casino.

[6-finger-fred]

Hey do you still have openings?

Name:Craske
Species:Slig
Age:19 (human)
Appearance:young, skinny, and untrained.
Personality: Anoying, but loyal. Will try to jump into any situation just to earn respect.
Equipment:Blitz packer,
History:Most people don't care but he grew up in a little gang till they beat the crap out of him, but then he killed them. Most people don't beleive this but he thinks this is how he'll get in the mafia.
Profession:Mafia Minute Man

[magic9mushroom]

Hello??

[Dark Elite_H2]

Yes...I am also curious to find out what the heck happened with this RP...

[magic9mushroom]

Let's keep going?
...
...
...

[Dark Elite_H2]

I guess....




IC:
Walking around town, the streets wet of the evening rain. Wanderers rudely pushing through the narrow streets of the capitol. Ken, whom was merely trotting through under the roof bannisters, protecting him fron the rain, kept his hands burried deep within his pockets, and his head low inside his coat. His lips parted over the toothpick he had continuously messed with for hours, not bothering to let go of it. He ignored the peasents pushing him aside, not keeping any regrets or grudges. Although he moved through the streets, he couldn't help the fact that he was damn-straight lost.
Damn it... he growled. Next time...I'll ask fer a map... His eyes were straight-locked, avoiding contact with the peds. He stopped nearby a broad open alleyway, giving a rugged sigh. "'dis ain't no good, Ken," he grumbled, rolling the toothpick between his callous thumb and forefinger. "You may as well ask fer 'elp,"
He stared across the street, a pair of hunch-back outlaw species exchanging illegal goods to each other. He grumbled, knowing that they may be the only intelligent life forms on the street that may help him. He trotted across the street, ignoring the instinct to look both ways first, and up to the first goon sniggering under its breath. "'ey," he gruffly called.
The outlaw minions hesitated at first, suddenly catching a glimps of the Mudokon in their optics. They mumbled incoherently, spinning to Ken with disgusting eyes. "What'cha want, pud?" it growled with its grotesque mandible. Ken could only hold in his chuckle to the outlaw's intimidating glare.
"I'm lookin' fer a place, to find this...Oddfather fellah...you's know where I can find 'im?" The outlaws suddenly spreaded their legs further apart, holding their scrawny arms out to the inquisitor.
"Anyone lookin' or feelin' the need ta see the Oddfather...is an enemy o' ours," they growled. "You's better prepare yerself to be eliminated..."
Ken chuckled down from their threat, not even budging from the spot he stood in. Tightly in his pocket, his hand wrenched around the pistol he had been carrying around years before he became a Mafia leader.
"If you seriously lookin' fer a fight..." he grumbled, his head still down. "You's guys picked the wrong poison..." The outlaws slammed their spiked knuckles together, approaching Ken with open arms. Ken only stood down, his eyes closed focusing on the outlaw's heaving footsteps. The puny one cackled.
"He ain't even gonna run,"
"'dat's good," the luggy larger one chuckled. "Makes 'im easy prey," The behemoth suddenly barraged down the walkway towards the stalky Mudokon, roaring a phlemy bellow. Ken clenched his teeth together, suddenly snapping up with a devious glare. Inches away from his body, he jumped over the hunch-back, gliding long overhead with a backflip twist. He landed softly behind the outlaw, the lummock grunting in confusion. Ken chuckled softly, twisting around behind the outlaw, and mashed his sharp knuckles in to its muscular back, right in between its ribs and spine. It groaned in grieving pain, falling to its knees almost breathless. The small-fry pitter-pattered after the Mudokon, wailing a small battlecry, and flailing its arms towards him. He spun back around, a flying leg coming across its mandible with titanium force. The outlaw cried aloud, flinging its smaller frame back on to a brick wall with a small crack.
Ken chuckled darkly to himself, feeling the behemoth come back over him with open arms, and a furious roar. The time was right. Ken flung his hand out of his pocket, joining his other hand on the butt of his pistol, and pressing the barrel of his gun on the flabby chest of the outlaw. It halted its attack immediately, short gasps making it hyperventalate. Ken glared up in to the outlaw's eyes, his finger ready to pull the trigger. "I ain't gonna shoot yeh," he shook his head. "If you'd give me some 'elp...we wouldn't be in this situation, would w-" He spun around to the sprinting smaller outlaw, and put a bullet through its head. The smaller hunch-back tripped over its sudden lifeless body, skidding to a stop on the gravel pavement. The larger outlaw growled loudly, about to bring its arms down upon Ken. It choked upon its roar, falling backwards on the sidewalk as well, a bleeding hole in its chest. The pistol's barrel smoked lightly of grey heat, and small spatter of blood upon its silver casing. Ken wound the pistol by its trigger handle, and stuffed it back in to his pocket. He stood fully back up, with a disgusted smirk down to both outlaws he swayed his head to. With that, he jumped over the dead behemoth's corpse, leaving them to rot on the streets.
"Why couldn't you guys just help me..."

[Bullet Magnet]

Ooc: About time! I feared this RP had just keeled over. I found it hard to post, since my last one painted me into a corner, and I needed Rich or someone else to attack the NSSU station Rackleg was in. Oh well, I'll see what I can do.

IC: Rackleg waited, the worst part of any shootout. After the actual shootout, of course. He did not like the way his first day in Nolybab was playing out.
An NSSU slig came out from the back and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Rackleg. Could you have seen its eyes through its mask, they darted from Rackleg, to the primed semi auto in his paws, to the Rackleg again, then to the outlaws in the cells, back to Rackleg, before finally settling on his weapon. The slig panicked and jumped to a wild conclusion, and brought up his own weapon, an oversized Blitzpacker, and aimed it at the Bounty Hunter. Rackleg knew better than to remain in the sights of one of these babies for long, he ducked and leaped to the side as high-speed SoulStorm cans crushed themselves into the floor where he had just stood. They ricocheted off of the cell bars, with much protesting from their inhabitants. Rackleg had no desire to kill this slig- they were supposed to be allies, and they would have to work together to repel the imminant mafia assault Rackleg knew they would face. Then again, he had just murdered a guy in cold blood, and was now shooting at him. With nowhere to run or find cover, Rackleg aimed at the ceiling and fired off a round. Rackleg liked to call the bullets Ripperdarts, due to their piercing shape. The ceiling cracked, and chunks of concrete and mortar crumbled and fell onto the slig, knocking him to the floor and blinding him with grey dust. Rackleg stepped over to him, relieved that no one was shooting at him anymore, drew out Mr Shocky, his tazer, and thrust it into the slig's neck. Its twitching threw up some dust, but the shock would keep the slig out cold for a while. The next time Rackleg was pitched against some corrupt cops, would not be so merciful.

[Dark Elite_H2]

(Yeah...thanks to me and mushroom...F( Someone else's turn

[6-finger-fred]

I'm gonna join this.

Name:Mr.Lixor
Species: Glukkon
Age:29 human
Occupation:Mafia capo and racket owner.
Equipment:Suit, Fedora, Cigars, lighter, and valet.
Bio: Mr.lixor owns a small resteraunt called The Sticky Sleech, which is a front
for a narcotics buisness.




Mr. Lixor looked at his wooden clock as the little hand landed in between 10 and 11, and the long one landed on the five. The glukkon looked at his little valet, who wearing a black suit and a black fedora just like the glukkon. Lixor smiled and spat out his cigar as the spark went out.

"Bunchy! Hey bunchy!" The glukkon cried in his raspy, scotch and cigars voice. The slig imediatly responded. "Yes sir?". "Get me a lung buster, and get the car started. We're visiting Don Glock see what's happening you know." Lixor thought that maybe he could get some money for his so called store.

[Gretin]

OOC: Sorry for my long silence... I've had problems with my computer and video card, plus I've got a lot going on in RL at the moment, so... yeah Anyway, we're back and ready to play! (for now) Or at least, I would be, but I'm kind of low on inspiration on what to do next at the moment... And it's late where I live, so I might turn in for the night and see what I come up with tomorrow...

[Bullet Magnet]

OOC: Goonie, Knuckles and host of mobsters were heading out to the docks to pick up an illegal shipment of the drug Rave at quay seven.

your last post

[sligco]

Name: zizzy
Species: Glukkon.
Height: Approximately 6 feet. 6 inches
Age: 30
Occupation: Mobster,
Official occupation:buisness gluk
Equipment: Cigar lighter, stylish tux, boxes of cigars.
Bio: Joined the mafia as a sort of lower class boss

[Jakor]

(Er, Hello. I was wondering if I could take Goonie?)

[Rich]

Lloyd pulled the concealed semi-auto from his jacket and turned to face the assembled Slig cronies.

"Is everyone ready?" He asked, loading the gun. The heads generally nodded in confirmation. "No fancy shit yet, I want a word with the fat fed in charge first".

Lloyd approached the front door.

[Bullet Magnet]

OOC: Gretin has current control of Goonie at the moment, you'd best ask him, Jakor. But then, he is an important character and we haven't seen your RPGing ability yet. I would suggest starting with a lesser, original character for now, and we'll see.

IC: The door handle at the front of the NSSU station began to turn. Rackleg grabbed the unconcious slig and threw him through the backdoor. He then twisted the back of him semi-auto and the near-empty clip dropped out. Immediately reloading a fresh one, Rackleg vaulted over the desk, crouched behind it and aimed his weapon at the door. The NSSU slig lying behind the door had jumped to the wrong conclusion and given the bounty hunter an unneccessary headache. He had every reason that the mafia cronies outside would have no qualms about making it worse. He would have to be ready for the worst...

[Rich]

Lloyd pushed the door open and looked into the dusty station. He spotted the empty gun cartridges and soulstorm cans littering the floor. He turned to the Sligs behind him. "I've got a bad feeling about this, seems like we're not the only people in this dump doing business tonight, keep your wits about you".

He began to walk down the corridor of cells towards the desk, looking into each one. Four Sligs followed him in, holding assault rifles and keeping a lookout for trouble.

"I see Kreager, but where's Lenny?" Asked one of the mafia sligs.

"They must've moved him downstairs into the special cells, they know we're coming for him".

They turned towards the desk and rear door, that would lead to the basement stairs and offices.

"Stop!" called a voice from a nearby cell.

A Vykker was looking at them through the bars. "Be careful, theres someone hiding behind that desk, a fresh face, not from 'round here. Knocked out one of the feds".

Lloyd turned towards the desk. "Show yourself!" He yelled.

[Bullet Magnet]

"Ah, crap," Rackleg muttered under his breath. That Vykker was going to pay. He slowly rose to his feet with his hands in the air.
"Look, I don't want any trouble." Rackleg was now able to assess his situation. The guy in charge was a Chronicler, he didn't expect to be seeing one of those here. Their one leg gives them some mobiity problems, but the four arms meant that Rackleg would have to keep an eye out for surprises from that guy. And there were four sligs behind him, dressed in black suits. Normally sligs wouldn't present him with a problem, but they were of the mafia. He would have to be prepared for anything.
"I was just here to get some... er..." did he really want these gangsters to know he was here for bounties? Most of them were on the wall already.
"Your guy is in the back," said Rackleg, changing the subject quickly. "It's not pretty." He pushed the door open with his foot. The unconcious slig was hidden in the shadows, so long as he doesn't wake up, he won't be found. The bounty hunter stared the mobster in the eye. He slid his foot under his semi-auto. One wrong move on the part of these jokers and it would be in his grip in a second.

[Gretin]

OOC:

Ok, I realise this thread has probably pretty much died by now, but considering it's probably because of me that's happened, I figured it was ok to post in it now. If not... Sorry!

Anyway, I'm just posting to say I think someone else should take on Goonie and Knuckles, because I've been really busy lately (hence my not being online) and I don't think it will be getting any easier any time soon, so me having main characters isn't really a good idea.

[Bullet Magnet]

OOC: You don't know how pleased I was to see this one back on the page. Well, if anyone's still interested in playing (and I see no reason why you wouldn't) then please feel free to join in again. In fact, join in now, no "feel free" about it. It's mandatory.

[Zerox]

OOC: Hmmm....heck, might as well join this too! Seems cool. I hope it doesn't die for absolutely no reason like Meepiluch. It was gonig great, then...well, look at it now.

Name: Stan
Species: Steef
Age: 38
Appearence: Shady Steef in a large waistcoat, pretty much.
Personality: Suspicious, shady and very untrusting. Fairly short temper. And if you don't give him his pay for sealing the bounty...well, he'll take it. Regardless of what he has to do to you to get it.
Equipment: Brute force, bow and arrow, a stock of poisons with varying effects to be used with the arrows, which have a special 'groove' which holds the liquids. The poisons and other chemicals may be collcted from wild sources, found in city's or otherwise bought secretly of merhants in the market. Keeps the jars in pockets in his large waistcoat, the bow and quiver are hidden under it also.
Occupation: Bounty hunter
Most overheard remark: "Who you want, what the pay?"
Bio: Been sneaking around Nolybab, hiding in alleys, getting pay from various high street gangs for killing off other threatening ones, or catching them, or whatever you request.

Oh, and since this is after all the current games, what's the current view of Steef in society? An overview would be good. How has society progressed?
Get Splat to do a map?

IC: Stan hid on the buildimg of the Lucky Scrab Casino. He watched drunkards, rich and poor idiots alike leaving and entering the Lucky Scrab. Stan himself wasn't stupid enough to gamble away what he managed to earn. He knew those things were probably rigged, anyway. For now, he kept a secretive eye for anyone who may leave this place who may know the Oddfather. He was hoping to make a particularly well paying bounty from him. He kept his watch from the shadows, hidden underneath the large, flashing letters advertising the casino, ready to snatch anyone ho looked like they had possible connections. He knew a couple in particular from bounty records, but he was hoping for a larger prize, and didn' want to get on the badside of the very guy he was trying to get a bounty from. He knew better than to try to go straight for this big cheese. He was also particularly doubtful of Maggie actually paying him for the excessively hard work he'd have to do. Anyway, he continue watching the hopeful bums entering and the even worse off ones leaving, waiting for someone whom he recognised...

[Bullet Magnet]

Goonie McGoon and Knuckles Andwige left the tavern with the rest of the gangsters, some of which proceeded to climb into the backs of three black trucks parked oon the curb. Knuckles approached the rear most one, but Goonie grabbed his shoulder and shook his head. Instead they chose the front truck.

Knuckles took the wheel while Goonie sat in the passenger seat. Neither used the seat-belts (seat belts? what are they?) and started the ignition. A slig and a hunchback outlaw took the second vehicle. Knuckles pulled away from the tavern, followed by the other black truck. The two outlaws in the third twisted the key and-
KABOOOOM!
"Scrab's Blood! What the hell?"
"Just keep driving, Andwige!"
"But someone just wasted a truck, and four of our boys!"
"I saw that, greyskin. We'll deal with it later. But whoever did do that was a proffessional. I almost didn't notice."
"You let them get in there!"
"But I didn't let you now, did I? Since when did killing bother you? You've got your own collection of stiffs. I imagine that whoever set it up was still there, ready to ambush us." Goonie checked the mirrors. "In fact, he may still be following us now."
"We'll have to take the long route, try to shake him. We can't let anyone ruin our transaction, the Don'll have our hides. Like with his valet..."
They both shuddered.

[6-finger-fred]

(Sorry for not posting computer is down and still not up... )


Mr. Lixor gave a whistle as his slig pulls him up and walks him to the door.
He looks at the oak door open as they step into the boiler room, also called the room where no-lifes would come and get high. The metal stairs spiraled down to some more metal, this time on the floor.

Three muds, an outlaw, and a couple of clakkers lied on the floor, coughing and laughing at the same time. Lixor didn't care what they did while their high, as long as they paid. He wobbled over to the other side of the bland and black room and got his valet to open the door.
The dining area was a huge contrast, showing vibrant colors that lit up the town. A bunch of legal regulars stood and ordered, as Lixor watched the moolah pop into the register.