(I gave you some. 25 iron, some stone I think and some wood. How come you never use the mine anymore?)
1. Your men continue to work great, until one of your men faints abruptly about 3/4 way done with the trench. He has gotten a sunstroke. The other two men help him to the project, giving him water and towels. He is unable to work for one turn(-1 citizen)
2. Your men return back with full stock for kills, 5 pelts and 31 units of meat.
3. Sherrif Bryan hears a large thud on the second floor, as if someone jumped from a high place in the room to the left. The door opens and a skinny-white man comes walking out casually. What will you do?
4. (There are Rerzo right now.)
5. Zeke is unable to fix the old SMG, the inner parts far too rusted for use. Maybe one of your citizens might know enough about guns to fix it.
6. Your city is clean. (Sorry it works out this way, but your town in the desert. No buildings. That's why you had to have brahmin towns. There was no city before you. You just plopped on a patch of land. But I'll give you some raw materials 'cus I know thats fucked up.)(+42 wood, +18 stones, 51 iron).
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(:iplomacy:
During a cold desert-winded night, Zeke stood behind a trenchline, silent and curious-faced. This is where Zeke watched the sun go down and darkness encrouch the wasteland. He often stood apon as he paced things through his head, making valuable discisions for everyone. His silent place.
A lone caravan, brahmin pulled, slugged into view, maybe a mile out. A lone fire burned on the coach torch. Zeke hadn't noticed until the Caravan was about 200 yards away. It stopped. A large man came running towards the outpost, carrying a blanket full of something. Looked like guns sticking out. This alarmed Zeke.
"Hey! What's your business?!", Zeke yelled hoarsly as the men crept foward.
"Hello. I'm Exoclypse. I'm here to see if ya'll need any.. um.. Shotguns... I got two... $400 instead'a 5.", the man began as he formally bowed his head.
1. Your men continue to work great, until one of your men faints abruptly about 3/4 way done with the trench. He has gotten a sunstroke. The other two men help him to the project, giving him water and towels. He is unable to work for one turn(-1 citizen)
2. Your men return back with full stock for kills, 5 pelts and 31 units of meat.
3. Sherrif Bryan hears a large thud on the second floor, as if someone jumped from a high place in the room to the left. The door opens and a skinny-white man comes walking out casually. What will you do?
4. (There are Rerzo right now.)
5. Zeke is unable to fix the old SMG, the inner parts far too rusted for use. Maybe one of your citizens might know enough about guns to fix it.
6. Your city is clean. (Sorry it works out this way, but your town in the desert. No buildings. That's why you had to have brahmin towns. There was no city before you. You just plopped on a patch of land. But I'll give you some raw materials 'cus I know thats fucked up.)(+42 wood, +18 stones, 51 iron).
==================================
(:iplomacy:
During a cold desert-winded night, Zeke stood behind a trenchline, silent and curious-faced. This is where Zeke watched the sun go down and darkness encrouch the wasteland. He often stood apon as he paced things through his head, making valuable discisions for everyone. His silent place.
A lone caravan, brahmin pulled, slugged into view, maybe a mile out. A lone fire burned on the coach torch. Zeke hadn't noticed until the Caravan was about 200 yards away. It stopped. A large man came running towards the outpost, carrying a blanket full of something. Looked like guns sticking out. This alarmed Zeke.
"Hey! What's your business?!", Zeke yelled hoarsly as the men crept foward.
"Hello. I'm Exoclypse. I'm here to see if ya'll need any.. um.. Shotguns... I got two... $400 instead'a 5.", the man began as he formally bowed his head.