Hx

Nice, Francis! Who's next?

Wasn't that JackBox delivery for a couple of big drums of gasoline? Who did you two fight off to protect it?

Man, nobody goes out to the meadows, way too open! Seems like the only reason to meet in a spot like that would be to broker some real shady deals. How did Spice get tied up with something like that?

Anyone here a part of Francis' crew? Seems like Mr. Harrison is at the least an occasional contractor.

We'll be here for like 10 weeks if we do it in two rounds. You may not know the details of their character per se, but you at least have a sense of them based on their playbook, I say we roll with what Chris did. Everyone can just start posting in whichever order they'd like.

Smith is every emotion you have ever experienced, crammed into a rusty bottle of Rust-b-Gon, sitting at the bottom of your mother's claw-toed bathtub, being chewed by sloths with whisker-lined teeth wearing smocks covered in fly-covered fly-paper.

"Psh, that's just a rumor. Here, take my hand, it will be warmer in the light."

He wears an old, very worn but well fitted tuxedo. Some time ago he lost the accompanying bowtie; a tragic day. He has an unremarkable face except for his eyes, which seem to never quite be looking at you even when he stares you dead in the face.

It's almost as if he is looking through you, or, into you. No one really knows what that's all about, so you all get Hx-1.



ooc: Sully, do I detail the other Hx moves that occur on others' turns?

Husher is slightly shorter than average, and his frame is hidden by the bulky awkward tan duster which shifts oddly, due to the myriad of metal strips sewn into its liner to act as armor. His face is crooked and blotchy, with a nose obviously broken several times in the past. He normally wears a wool packer, to cover the large bald spot in the middle of his shoulder length stringy blonde hair. Hes got a small pot belly and keeps his light grey trousers up with a set of red suspenders.

Husher can normally be found in front of a bar, staring into the shot of whatever he can afford sitting in front of him. His eyes are dull, and sad, and its clear hes seen a lot in his somewhere around 50 years. To the point where most things seem to bore him. Typically he affords his meager lifestyle through bodyguarding and occasional murder. 

One point a few months back Husher saw Clint and his boys harassing Smith the Brainer and, being no friend to Clint, and more than a little bolstered by some liquid courage, he stumbled into the party with his silenced shotgun in one hand, and an imitation grenade with the pin pulled out in the other. As Husher congenially encouraged Clint to retreat to his filth hole in the wastes, one of his boys who had stopped to take a piss behind the nearest outhouse crept up and stabbed him in the back tween the shoulder blades. Husher dropped the imitation grenade and Clint ran off with his posse, afraid of the ensuing splosion. Husher begged Smith to pull the med pack from Hushers back, but Smith ran off, leaving a sour taste in Hushers mouth (not to mention a screwdriver in his back) -2 Hx

More recently Husher, tired of the bullshit, decided to take Clint out once and for all, and began a trek out to the shack village he and his cronies had erected in the wastes. On the way he encountered a short topless dame. Husher thought her one of the woman that Clint controlled, but within a few moments realized that this this little girl, with her high powered boomer could clearly take care of herself. Their conversation was cut short however by Clint and his crew rolling up on them and demanding the girl as tribute. As a response the both of them kindaly substituted a hail of shotgun fire for the mini skirted Mini. It took a while, and a few injuries on both sides, but Clints men sans Clint seemed much less eager to engage the two and broke off. Husher managed to pull the few bullets both had taken with his med kit, and they stumbled back to the closest bar where Husher used Clints money to buy them some drinks +2 Hx


Husher hasnt much talked to her, but hes seen Spice around a bit, and maybe has even made a point of seeing her more often than necesary. He thinks she might be the loveliest thing hes seen since his first wife died. +2 Hx

I'm just gonna get my intro down and buy some time to figure out how I know all you weirdos.

Jeremy looks not unlike a junkie. He's gaunt with wild eyes that dart around and even wilder hair. When I say his hair is wild, I don't mean that it's some crazy shape and color like an 80's punk, I mean his hair has gone feral. (Think Doc Brown after a feverish night of sleep in the back of a Volkswagen.) Jeremy seams to vibrate with nervous energy, one might assume that he's having a prolonged manic episode or snorted an entire eight ball or that he's twelve, but really he's just super fuckin' excited about - well - everything. (Think Jeff Goldblum in The Fly.)

Fashion sense is not something Jeremy has. What he does have are several pairs of plaid bell-bottoms. A ringer t-shit and his favorite striped hoodie usually completes the ensemble. Though he has been known to dig up the occasional rayon shirt with hideous floral print, just to mix things up. There's usually at-least one, if not several gizmos strapped to Jeremy's body. Similar to Data from The Goonies, but lacking the Hollywood whimsy.

toss in one or two more known locations in a 50 mile radius, like perhaps the meadow and the wastes and I call it a win