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Snippet #1960102

located in West Virginia, a part of Fallout: Whiteout, one of the many universes on RPG.

West Virginia

None

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Character Portrait: Lewis Blake
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Lewis sat in his stool with his back facing the bar, still looking out into the crowd until the fight broke out. He watched carefully. Too many times he's been in a middle of a rumble and someone trips over in their directions and just like that; you're a part of it. But luckily the fight ended nearly as quick as it started.

"Tut...tut...tut, what a bloody mess..." His accent was that of a cockney englishman, paired well with his raspy, croaky voice.

He stood up, grabbing one of the lifeless bodies.

"Can't be having these stink the place out!" He said, hauling one of the bodies outside the door.

As soon as he was outside, he took the body around the side of the building and dumped it. He peered around, having a quick look to make sure no one was coming or going into the inn and when he was sure he was alone he gave a quick frisk. He reached into a pocket, pulling out a little wallet with a handful of caps inside. Everything else was rubbish, and the clothes were slashed and bloodied. Else they might have made a profit to the right man.

He got back up and back in side, idly dragging the rest of the bodies out and around the side, taking his time. Perhaps to make others believe he was generally taking them somewhere out of the way and not a few seconds away to rot. The rest of the raiders didn't have anything on them worth taking, their weapons were in poor condition. It's a miracle that gun even fired.

He left them in a pile, all huddled on top of each other as he made his way back inside.

He wore a smile on his face as he strolled up to the bar, sitting back in his seat and slamming down the few caps he'd got off the bodies.

"One vodka please my good mate!" He hinted over towards the bartender, "And while you're at it, do you know who owns this place, it isn't you hm?"

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