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<Snipped quote by Emma>

Threads (excluding RP threads and a few other places) autolock after some time has passed without anyone posting. You'll have to ask a mod to unlock it.

Ooh. Is that a new-ish feature?

Posts never used to do that. Least not last time I was floating around.

Also to attempt to answer one of the above questions, I’m not sure I can specifically remember ‘the best’ RP I’ve ever participated in - but they were probably pre-guildfall. Lost a lot of good writing and writing partners in that whole thing.

Generally anything that keeps going beyond the first month is good.

Had a great fallout RP set in the ‘commonwealth wasteland’ which was based in the U.K. and was pretty awesome. Occasionally I think about trying a re-boot of that.

Once ran a zombie survival RP that focused on survivor and community politics rather than just the zombies.

But countless of others that were very enjoyable while they lasted. What about yourself?
Sub’d and watching - always love a good bit o Fallout.
I’ll throw my doubloons in the pot. Looks most interesting.

What kind of posting frequency would you be looking for with your players?
Nuevo Paraíso, Mexico. Several days ago.


As Finn barrelled towards the approaching carriage he slipped his Winchester shotgun from its holster and focused himself. He could see clearly now that Freya was the one driving, at least seven horsemen hot on her tail. His heart was still pounding like crazy, but it still wasn’t himself that he was worried about.

He blazed past her and the wagon before unloading his first shot at practically point blank range into the lead rider, his approach hidden by the carriage until the last moment.

His shot was true and the man had little chance to do anything other than die as he flew backwards twisted in a brutal red mist.

Finn gripped his horse with his knees as in one motion he cocked the lever action and immediately fired into the second rider that came into his sights - the buckshot again found its mark as the man tumbled backwards over his horse and into the dirt as Finn sped past.

The remaining riders veered before he could repeat the feat once more and he yanked Beethoven’s reigns which sent the horse into a skid as he fired a third shot barley catching one of the men in a grazing wound as he tried to dodge out of the way.

Urging the horse onwards he pressed himself down into the saddle as one of the men began firing his revolver at him, several of the rounds whipping past him before he returned fire. Three slugs later the man toppled from his saddle as Finn’s shots eventually found their target.

He swiftly holstered the shotgun, knowing that it was now empty and in need of a reload that he didn’t have the time for. He pulled one of his revolvers free and opened fire at the remaining riders with an expression of grim determination plastered across his features.


“Shitty fuck!” cursed Freya as she yanked on the reigns and intense pain again blossomed through her left side.

Doubling over she was glad that her Finn had just arrived and was in the process of ridding them of their pursuers. He did always seem to have a knack for useful timing she mused briefly to herself.

Turning she spared a glance behind her at the pursuers, spotting their numbers beginning to fall she turned her attention away from the road before them and took aim at the nearest rider with her revolver. Moments later she fired a single shot which despite the impressive distance buried itself in the rider who tumbled from his horse.

One of the man’s feet caught in his stirrups, causing him to be dragged behind unceremoniously, a few pained screeches being heard before he fell silent.

Moments later the remaining riders veered from the road and began swiftly galloping away.

Standing in the seat Freya fired another round towards the men, her teeth gritted in pain as she did.

“Fuck” she barked as she missed, none of the riders fell from their saddles and she dejectedly fell back into the seat as a wave of wooziness overtook her.

“I never miss…” she mouthed to herself silently with a sullen expression.


As the last of the attackers turned to flee with their tails between their legs, Finn decided not to pursue them and turned back to the carriage which was now coming to a stop.

Freya lowered herself from the drivers seat as the rear door opened and out stepped a rather distressed looking Gerardo Gonzailez.

“Jesucristo that was insane!” He exclaimed turning his attention to Freya with a worried glance towards Finn who remained in the saddle with his gun in hand “and you, whomever you are, you have our thanks!”

Finn simply stared silently at him with what could be described as a bemused expression. He watched as Freya took a few steps towards him and pressed herself against the Mexican in an embrace. Gerardo looked pleasantly surprised for a brief moment before she jammed the barrel of her revolver into his large gut and fired her last shot into the man.

He crumpled to the ground writhing and screeching in Mexican as he clutched at the new wound.

“That’s for being a filthy piece of shit” she spat before she planted the most powerful kick she could manage into his crotch “and that’s for the girl you raped. Now enjoy bleeding to death in this shit hole of a country Mr Gonzailez!”

She looked like she was about to leave him to his fate when she turned back and with much gusto spat a huge glob of phlegm into the man’s face with a snort.

Turning away her eyes settled on briefly on Finn before moving to the carriage - and more importantly on the chest loaded in the small rear compartment and whatever goodies may be within. She took a few steps forwards before she felt another wave of wooziness and suddenly she crumpled to the ground.
@One Who Tames

Wouldn’t be a problem for me, always good to read other’s work.

I’m working on a post but progress is slow, hopefully will have it up by the weekend and can get my pair into the action one way or another after that.
Well took way longer than I wanted, but post is up.

I'm more than a little rusty so sorry about the delay!

No opportunities for my characters to interact as of yet but will attempt to get them into the action asap!

Nuevo Paraíso, Mexico. Several days ago.

Finn squinted into the setting evening sun as he watched the dusty trail ahead for any signs of movement. From his crouched position atop the craggy hill he could see the surrounding countryside stretched out before him clearly for miles. It had been a hot and relatively still day, hardly a single cloud in the sky.

He wiped his moist brow with his sleeve and cursed the heat of this goddam country. The sun was setting and it was still hotter than he was comfortable with, a feeling he was becoming all to accustomed too. He’d been camped out at this god-forsaken vista for two days over a week now, each day the temperature outdoing the previous whilst he was forced to do little more than endure as he waited and watched.

Sighing Finn reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and retrieved a battered packet of cigarettes. A Mexican brand that in his opinion simply tasted like dirt, but without an alternative he was shit out of luck. He took a few moments to light a smoke and take a deep drag before he once more brought the old pair of binoculars to his eyes and scanned the horizon.

He quickly caught the glint of movement and focusing in he spotted what he had been waiting for.

A wagon was speeding down the road behind two large draft horses, practically tipping as it barreled around one turn in the path. Something was wrong, he quickly realised. He could see that the carriage was being pursued by several horsemen. Moments later he heard the distant but unmistakable sound of gunshots ringing across the dusty landscape before him. Fuck. Something was definitely wrong. His mind instantly went to Freya - even though he knew she could more than handle herself his heart skipped a beat and he felt his mouth become even drier than it was before - if that was even possible.

Scrambling to his feet and tossing the newly lit smoke Finn quickly turned and as fast as he could made his way down the rocky path to where he had been making camp. Almost slipping he scrambled over to his horse and leapt into the saddle. Beethoven needed little prompting and took off at a gallop, skidding out of the little canyon that concealed his hideaway and down towards the rapidly approaching carriage and riders as he gritted his teeth and prepared himself to do whatever he needed to.


Also Nuevo Paraíso, Mexico. Several days and about 1 hour 30 minutes ago.

“I must admit” spoke Gerardo in his deeply accented voice “you are not what I expected at all… chu know for a gringa that is”.

Freya forced herself to laugh and flash a smile at the greasy little man before she responded “Oh darlin, you don’t know the half of it”.

The pair reached the carriage and he pulled open the small door before gesturing for her to enter. She elegantly shot him a wink as she climbed in and took a seat, taking a moment to rearrange the rather uncomfortable dress she was wearing as she did. It didn’t escape her notice that Gerardo kept his eyes on her the entire time before clambering in himself. He removed his suit jacket and placed it on the opposite seat as he did before leaning out of the window and shouting a few commands - this time in his own native language, directed at the group of soldiers that was his escort.

With another command barked at the driver they were away. Truth be told Freya was insanely happy to see the last of the small town as she turned her gaze upon it for what she hoped to be the last time. She watched the soldiers for a few moments - there were eight of them. Not an unsubstantial number, but not enough for her to worry about things going belly up.

It had been no small feat to ingratiate herself to this rather unlikable but important man, let alone to arrange things so that he would ‘offer’ to escort her to the next town where there was a railway station she could use. She had spun him tales of her wealthy father and brothers, ranchers out of New Austin who would gladly repay his generosity whilst feigning the kind of disposition that only a daughter of the wealthy could manage.

She too had not batted an eye when her Mexican hosts had brought a young girl from a nearby village and more than several of them had ‘introduced themselves’ to her. It was easy enough to feign an uncaring and superior disposition, after all why would a white American woman care what they did to one of their own. She felt more than a twinge of disgust, but pushed it down as she kept up the act and reminded herself coldly that shit happened.

Of course it was the cargo that this man carried that she was really interested in, a large trunk which was now affixed to the rear of the carriage. See Gerardo Gonzailez was the newly appointed overseer of a string of gold, silver and copper mines, a reward from Porfirio Díaz for crushing some peasants insurrection in the south of the country before he was ‘retired’ from the army - or at least that was the information they were going off. It should be filled with either ingots or cash, maybe both - either way she knew he had just completed a tour of one of his establishments and would be making his way back to Mexico City via train.

The pairs conversation flowed from liquor to business as she tried to keep him as distracted as possible. She guessed it would be another hour or so until they were passing through into Nuevo Paraíso, which is where things would get interesting.

The plan was simple enough, Finn should be waiting and lurking to stickup the coach at which point she could take Gerardo hostage whilst the soldiers were distracted and they could do whatever they needed to relieve them of their valuables. She was glad for the hidden revolver strapped to her thigh, a wave of excitement shooting through her as she thought of the action ahead.


“… and then the governor shot him!” Finished Gerardo with a snort and a laugh. Freya forced a giggle and was about to reply when suddenly a gunshot rang out - shattering the relative peace of the journey.

“Emboscada!” Shouted one of the men outside as more gunshots began to pierce the air and the carriage jolted suddenly.

“Que mierda?” Barked Gerardo as the body of their shotgun rider tumbled backwards past the window, a bullet-hole nestled squarely through his right eye socket.

Freya too was shocked, was this Finn’s doing? This wasn’t the plan at all and she was certain her partner wouldn’t fuck things up like this unless there was a good reason.

Peering out of a window she briefly saw a group of masked riders barreling towards them before a bullet slammed into the wood beside her. Gerardo was already firing from the other window as he screamed aggressively in his own language. Several moments later Freya was still fumbling with her dress as she tried to lift it and retrieve her own weapon.

Swearing she instead reached into one of her boots and pulled out a small flip-knife which she then used to slice away at the bottom portion of the fabric. With a determined yank she ripped away the dress from the knee down before finally pulling her own revolver from its holster.

In the time it had taken her the wagon had veered from the path and was coming to a stop - she guessed their driver had also bought some lead from their unknown attackers. Gerardo shot her a bewildered look at her tattered dress and the weapon in her hand as he ducked behind the wood paneling to reload his revolver, fear now beginning to spread across his features.

“You can never be too prepared Mr Gonzailez” she yelled over the gunfire as she joined him behind what little cover there was. She took a few moments to appraise the situation outside before in one swift movement she kicked the carriage door open and fearlessly leapt out into the fray with a gleeful expression spread across her face.

It quickly became apparent that whomever these attackers were, they were well prepared and knew what they were doing. The majority of them had dismounted and were surrounding both the wagon and the remaining members of Gerardo’s entourage who were rapidly falling as their horses began to panic and buck. She knew she had to move before they managed to get into a position to surround them entirely.

Firing two of her six shots she grinned in satisfaction as two of their attackers who had just reached the wagon crumpled to the dirt before she quickly pulled herself into the driver’s seat. Grabbing the reigns she shouted and frantically spurred the horses to move forwards as a few rounds whizzed passed her far too close for comfort.

As they began to speed away she heard one of them shouting at the others to finish up with the guards and get after the carriage. Seemed they were Americans too she realised quickly as she fired a third shot at the last man stood between them and the path ahead - the round caught him squarely in the face and she couldn’t help but let a short laugh escape her. She heard Gerardo firing from the carriage behind her at the now pursuing men, with what was left of their escort seemingly left behind.

As she yanked on the reigns to turn a rather steep corner she began to feel an ache in her left arm. Sparing a moment to glance down she was more than a little shocked to discover she had been shot, blood beginning to seep down her sleeve and onto her hand.

Finally, got it up.

Also finally found the time to get these finished. Hopefully a pair is alright at this early stage.

Any news on if we’re good to go?

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