Whit Supermicky: The Drunken Hillbilly RPG -

[Randall Fragg]

Alright, this is the Official True and Honest game thread. Now, we haven't officially started as we're still waiting on everyone's characters, but I thought I might as well post the official Risus rules here, as well as the dice rolling thingy.
http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/

Players:
Dynastia
Judge Holden
Tavern Explorer
Marella
Grand Number of Pounds
Surtur.

 

[Randall Fragg]

Alright, I'm posting the first part.
Normal text is for descriptions and actions.
"Bold text" is for dialog.
Italics is for internal monologues.
Blue text is for out of character questions and comments.

The sun shines down on the rugged foothills of Idaho, where dry plains give way to towering mountains. On the slopes of one one of these mountains, on the outskirts of Boise, is a grey blotch on the green and brown landscape, a concrete bunker-like building. Surrounding it are several decaying trailers, a variety of wreaked cars, and an acre of washing machines, refrigerators, boxes, scrap metal, and assorted refuse. A large swastika flag flies atop the bunker, sending a clear message about it's inhabitants, who are currently milling about with their daily routines. Suddenly, a high pitched shriek emanates from the bunker, followed by a message that strikes fear into the heart of any racial holy warrior.
"Shit, we're outta beer! We ain't got no PBR left!"
Commander Maynerd, an overweight man in a greasy wife beater and jeans, comes storming out the door.
"Hey, we need a couple of you ta take the truck and git down to the Wally-Mart to pick up some beer. We can't fight a racial holey war against the heathen mud folk if we ain't got no PBR."

 

[Dr. Mario]

The bald young man was too distracted tinkering with his iPhone.
Dude, this guy can't be serious! Of course Don Black is a voice of a generation.
"Haha, Black."
Oh shit, I really should stop thinking loud, now I'll have to fix this shit.
"Eh, I'll go."

 

[Judge Holden]

The hulking, perpetually smirking figure of Cletus emerges from the outhouse with a wad of soiled toilet paper stuck to his dungerees and a semen soaked MLP childrens magazine in the other
"gonna fuck baldys tight lil ass and make him scream...make him scream...make him scream...make him bleed...make him scream....make him bleed....."
PBRs a niggers drink, but ail come with yall if you let me pick up my "special" ingrediants for tonight's meal
"dumb fucking maynerd...dumb fuck...doesnt even know what i did to his nigger drink....or what i did to his lil baby girl"

 

[Randall Fragg]

Seeing Cletus emerge from the outhouse suddenly sparks a memory in Maynerd's perpetually beer clouded mind.
"Oh yeah, we're probably out of toilet paper if Cletus just took a shit. Better pick some up, I gotta take a dump. Oh, and ya might as well git some racial holey warrior snacks while you're there."

 

[Dr. Mario]

The boy stares at Cletus with a intimidate look.
Heh, I just can't wait to be alone with that sick looking fuck. Maybe I can implant this mind control microchip on his neck, that is gonna be awesome.
"A'rite. PBR, TP and a few snacks. Anything else we should know before leaving?"

 

[Randall Fragg]

"Yeah, Wally-World is a crucial danger zone because of the high concentration of negras, latrainos, an jews round there. You might want to grab a few guns from the armory in case you haf ta exercise your second amendment right if ya know what I mean."

 

[Judge Holden]

Cletus looks the bald boy in the eye, and his smirk widens
"oh this lil whore is into me......gonna fuck him till he bleeds and then im gonna fuck him again........make him scream and weep as i use his tongue as tp"
Yeah leaderman, that there outhouse needs repairin so pick up a toolkit while were out
"stupid fucking cunt....but his baby girl sure was sweet"

 

[Grand Number of Pounds]

Buster, a man with shaggy hair and a shaggy beard, dons his dirty Stars and Bars cap, his lucky charm, and puts down his doomsday prepping magazine.

"Hey, fellers, ya'll think we should pick up a bit of ammo, too? You never know when the house o cards gubbmint an economy might collapse! Maybe we should pick up a few things from campin' supply, too."

Buster fondles a P-38 and puts it into his waistband. "Ya'll be sure to take a sidearm, too, fellers. If da race war starts while we're out, we're up a crick without a paddle if we ain't got no guns to fight with."

I sure hope the truck's still workin' or I'll hafta fix it again. Dem Murican trucks ain't like they used to be.

"Ya'll thin we'll run into some of them thar libruls who don't like us, or any of them weirdos who like those Japanese cartoons and crap?"

I changed his lucky charm from a US flag cap to a Stars and bars cap, like this:

Please let us run into some SJW's while we're out, or some weeaboos or something.

 

[Judge Holden]

BTW this is cletus for future reference, in-universe this pic is the sole visual image of the man wanted by police in connection to the rape, torture, and murder of a boy scout troop back in 1950

 

[Randall Fragg]

BTW this is cletus for future reference, in-universe this pic is the sole visual image of the man wanted by police in connection to the rape, torture, and murder of a boy scout troop back in 1950

"I am the NRA"
"I saw Crenshaw's little creature!"
That was a great episode.

 

[Grand Number of Pounds]

How much money (Murican dollars) do we have to spend on stuff? Who has a clean record in case we want to buy some more guns or something?

If a fight breaks out with niggos or something at Walmart we can always run to sporting goods and get some bats in case we don't want to shoot people.

 

[Randall Fragg]

The Armory currently has enough P38s for all of you. Additionally, it has (WARNING, GUN SPERGING AHEAD) an Uzi, a Galil Assault rifle (Civilian Legal, semi-automatic only), an M1903 Springfield chambered in .308 (Bolt action sniper rifle), a double barreled side by side 12 gauge, a sawn off 12 gauge, a G18 (fully automatic), and a BAR (Fully automatic) for main weapon options.

The fully automatic weapons only come with two magazines worth of ammo (20 9mm per mag for the Uzi, 19 9mm per mag for the Uzi, 20 .30-06 per mag for the BAR.)

The semi-automatics all have four magazines of ammo.
(2 shells per "mag" for the side by side, 2 shells per "mag" for the sawn off, 20 7.62mm rounds per mag for the Galil, five 7.62mm rounds per mag for the 1903.)

You can trade out your P38 (8 9mm rounds per mag) for a Desert Eagle (7 .50 rounds per mag) or a Taurus "Raging Judge" revolver
(7 round cylinder, can use either .45 rounds or .410 shotgun shells). All sidearms have only one magazines worth of ammo.
(END GUN SPERGING)

 

[Randall Fragg]

How much money (Murican dollars) do we have to spend on stuff? Who has a clean record in case we want to buy some more guns or something?

If a fight breaks out with niggos or something at Walmart we can always run to sporting goods and get some bats in case we don't want to shoot people.

Each of you probably have around $10 bucks on you. Don't worry, there will be some opportunities to make some cash coming up.

 

[Grand Number of Pounds]

OK, thanks.

So the ammo is -

9 mm
12 gauge
.30-06
.308
.410

.50 AE (of course we need Jace's gun, LOL)
.45 long colt

I don't think Walmart has .50 AE or .45 LC - the rest of the stuff they probably have - I'll run by Walmart tonight to see what they have in the camping section

 

[Tavern Explorer]

"Okay, okay, who the FUCK thought it was good to go without me, what the FUCK!"
An angry man with a wolf-like gleam in his sunglasses storms up to the group. Clad in a tactical custom camouflage Muhreen BDU and a matching tactical customized camouflage combat headband, the person cuts a rather tactical and cool figure, and that is what he believes.

He repositions the custom tactical long-distance skill-shot tactical tape-gripped tactical combat scoped custom tactical airsoft CAR-15 in its custom tactical back holster that's totally not some of his mother's sheets and looks over his fellows. After deciding they look kosher enough, he throws them the salute of his Nation.

"The name's like Grainz, okay, like with a Z because that's cool and tactical okay, and like that's what I believe. I'm a Marine and shit, or like I was before like the faggots kicked me out for like, being like true and shit, okay, so like I'm gonna help you guys okay, so like what the fuck are we doing?"

 

[Randall Fragg]

"Y'all's going to the Wally-World on a beer, racial holey warrior snacks, ammunition, and toilet paper run. Watch out fer faggots. An mooslums. An niggos."

 

[Dr. Mario]

The boy takes both Desert Eagle and a BAR, then get ready to leave the bunker still staring at Cletus.
He disliked fat people and made it clear by shooting Cletus' semen soaked MLP magazine with the Deagle.

"I'm just checking on the weapons."

He stared into the fat man's eyes. The boy's eyes was the same as a rabid dog on leash.
Besides Jews, fat people was his personal choice for experimenting material.

His greasy arms would make a nice couple of bats with spikes.
"Are we ready to go?"

 

[Judge Holden]

As the soft-skinned fagget asks the question, Cletus falls over unconcious from a combination of moonshine and the fresh, homemade jenkem he just cooked up in the latrine

sorry fellas, gotta crash into slumber. FINISH THE FIGHT FOR WHAT IS WHITE WITHOUT ME!!!

 

[Tavern Explorer]

The intellectual rapper warlord wolf-admirer future past present past retired discharged honorably retired not really retired Spec-Ops Muhreen takes a Deagle and as many magazines for it as he can. Tucking the new gear in his multiple pants pockets, he scoffs at the heavier gear.

"Okay, like what's this faggot-ass real gun bullshit, like I don't even like need them 'cause you know, my airsoft like takes out the tangos IF YOU GET ME, TAHAAAAAA! But like, this Deagle is pretty tactical looking and cool, and like that's sickness, okay, so I'll like take one of them for if like we gotta finish the fight and shit, okay, because like true Muhreens know like when they gotta finish the fight, you know, and like that's what I believe."

Noticing the collapsed fat man, the Muhreen turns to his new companions. "Okay like okay, like OKAY, like who like killed Fat Faggot? Like don't we like need him and shit, like what the FUCK?!"