Trapper's Trek Trading outpost, Only store in Buckettown

Upon entering, you're immediately blasted by acrid smoke and the smell of homemade liquor. The building is two stories tall, and is made almost entirely out of old salvaged blanks and boards of all sizes. Every now and then a large hole is patched with a piece of scrap metal, but for the most part, everything is kept in fairly good condition. Be careful, the dartboard is dangerously close to the entrance... even more dangerous when you realize the players are drunk off of cheap liquor.

If you walk up to the bar, you'll see the stores founder and owner, Trapper. He isn't really the type of man you can enjoy a conversation with, but he'll trade you supplies, and he's a kind hearted-type once you get to know him. You can't really call his wares cheap or expensive, because, well, he's the only trader in town.

Behind him, you see a large chalkboard with multiple animal skins posted to it with rough stakes. You also notice some basic supplies posted to the wall, food, water, tools, and guns. It's a large conversion chart. Next to each skin you see a number written in chalk, and between the hides and supplies, an equal sign. Behind the bar you'll see a homemade ladder bolted to the wall, and over near the entrance another just like it. They both lead up to a rather small walkway overhead (maybe 10 paces wid, and running along the whole front facing wall), and the walkway is devided out into three or four seperate small rooms.

"If it ain't on the chart I ain't got it. And I ain't changin' my prices"

The conversion is as follows:

((OOC: Finshed. As game RP progresses, he'll update from time to time. He'll buy from you (Although a mod has to handle the transacton) and get better equipment. Items are finite, and many cycle through. Also note, poor items and good items. Good items are more reliable, and in better condition. poor condition items are the opposite.))

Judas wandered into the trading outpost, immediately lifting his arm to his face in a failed attempt to block the smoke and stench of alcohol from reaching his nose. Judas began picking his way through the crowd as he made his way to the bar, behind which Trapper, the publican and proprietor, stood, surveying his clientele. Judas reached into his pocket, idly feeling the skin from the large hide in his hands and fumbling with the canisters of Jet on him.

They were the reason why he was here. Judas had never been big on Jet, and his recent experiences only convinced him further that it wasn't a drug he'd mess with. Sure, he'd touch alcohol, and smokes, and that afterburner stuff, but Jet? Not a chance. Judas briefly pondered on whether or not to purchase some alcohol, but went against it after he spied some of the items Trapper had for sale. Judas was just about sold on that 10mm pistol. He needed a sidearm, something that would fire faster than his musket. Judas was about to start an attempt to bargain for it when he noticed something else. Trapper was selling clothing and tents, both of which Judas needed desperately in his line of work. He sighed. Maybe another day. He'd consider a purchase of something after he got rid of the Jet, he supposed.

Judas approached the bar and waved towards Trapper. "How much will two canisters of Jet sell for?" he asked.

Trapper eyed up the new comer with the keen eyes of a seasoned waster. He'd been through a lot in his life, and knew how to get a feel for a man or woman at a glance. It was one of those skills that could never be taught. He wasn't a jet-head, but instead maybe one of the brewers. One of the smart ones.

"I don't cotton to jet heads. And I don't roll on store credit. So keep your act under control, got it? I ain't no dealer, But I'll give you one Large hide for two cannisters."

One large hide for two canisters. Judas rolled that around in his head. That sounded fair enough to him. "Alright, sounds good to me," Judas replied, lifting the canisters out of his pocket and placing them on the counter as he did so. As the goods were exchanged, Judas caught the tail end of a waster's conversation. Apparently, there was a new caravan in town. Wasn't that something? Judas decided he'd head there next. Getting something from Trapper would have to wait.

(OOC: Sorry if I'm being hasty with this. I don't think there'd be anything left to do after the exchange unless I wanted to buy something, but since the caravan's in town, that's probably not going to happen at Trapper's. I guess it's good for me to update my sig now?)

Ellis walked into the trading place, getting a few glances from the people inside. Reaching into a small plasic baggy tied around his hoody-belt, Ellis pulled out a clean piece of underwear.

“Whut in tarnation kin i git fo' this? ah mean, this hyar is a clean piece of unnerwar. Nevah been wo'n befo'e. ah reckon thet desarves a preety fine deal, ah reckon.” Ellis said, before he adjusted his shotgun so the grip wasn’t digging into his back.

Trapper chuckled to himself as the rather... eccentric man stumbled into the store.

"Ya' know, goods are only worth what the demand for them is. By the looks of things, in this little hick town, there isn't much of a demand for clean drawers, much as I wish there was. I'll give you one regular sized hide for it, straight up."

Rubbing his chin slowly, Ellis nodded.

“Deal.” Ellis said quietly, before receiving a regular sized hide. Giving Trapper Trek the clean underweat, Ellis took the hide and stuffed it into the plastic shopping bag tied to his belt before moving on.

George walked into the busy store and up to the counter, the place smelled like tobacco, beef jerky and whiskey. He got the attention of the man behind the counter. He man headed his way and George pulled out a little handkerchief with a number of caps inside.
"So look, I got these six caps of mine and I was wonderin' if I could trade 'em in for something more...umm...real? That okay with you sir?"

"I'll tell you what you can do with those two caps, son. You can get out. We don't run on that currency around here boy, I'm sorry. That's a little more up north then us. Around these parts, we deal mainly in animal hide, bone and fur. Things like that. I'll also accept gaming chips if you have 'em. I guess you could call that the 'standard' currency in the whole southern wastes. If you ever travel to Atlanta, The Dome, or The Royale, whatever you wann call it, they could probably cut you a deal on chips to caps. But I personally don't have the recources to do anything like that."

"God damn it..hey, sir, when I went to the bar in this town, they accepted them. How about I go there, buy some booze and come and sell it to ya?" George inquired.

George returned the next day with a grin on his face, he laid down a pipe bomb and got the owner's attention.
"Hey....how much can I get for this?" George asked

Jack opened the bars door to leave the dust and grime of the wasteland only to be greeted by the stench of smoke and vodka aswell as wastelanders. As he approached the bar keep he griped his lead pipe.
"hello?" he asked
"would you be interested in buying a nuka-cola?"

The man Trapper had turned away the day before was back again, and this time he had something of actual worth. Trapper picked up the crudely made explosive and inspected it carefully.

"Not the best condition, but looks pretty sturdy. I'll give you a small hide for it."

As he spoke, another man stepped forward, with an offer of his own.

"would you be interested in buying a nuka-cola?"

"Yeah, sure. How much are you going to sell? I'll buy singles for an okay price, but I'll pay you a little extra if you can get cases of the stuff. "

It was the first time Daniel had set foot inside Trapper's as before he had no reason to do so. Numerous animal hides lined the dilapidated wooden walls, the most amazing of which was a giant deathclaw skin. "Wow." Daniel stared in awe with eyes ablaze with hope.

"Hey you, can I help you?" Dan looked round in surprise, his left hand firmly grasping his switchblade. Seeing it was the owner of the shack Dan quickly released his grip on his blade feeling embarrassed as blood flooded to his face.

"Yer". Dan opened the cracked leather flap of his bag before grabbing a Hatchet. It was mostly unchipped and had only a few dent marks caused by some angry ants two days before. "How much can I get for this?"