((Ok, OOC math first and then some fiction to RP.
Core Qualities: Int (11-12) 30 CDP, AGI (15-16) 30CDP, DIS (15-16) 35CDP, VIT (15-16) 30CDP, CHA (16) 20CDP
Total CDP:145
Skills: Science Field (1-2) 60CDP 1425Trust 36hr, Grapple (1) 10CDP 95Trust 3hr, Pistol&SMG (6-7) 25CDP 285Trust 8hr
Deliverance wielding (7) 30CDP 190Trust 5hr
Total: 145CDP 1995 Trust 5 workdays also 250 Trust for a cheap room))
GM question: Do we heal all our damage? End of OOC!))
Clive sat looking at the sign, proudly proclaiming "Motel 3." Clive thought back, and relished on his youth, thinking that this cheep place sure kept the light on. He thought back over the past week. He had spent a few days at the NWSEC building, helping them tune some science things and performing some overdue physicals. After 3 long 12 hour days, he had done all he could in the various science fields, and he wanted to do other stuff as well. He convinced the NWSEC sheriff to come out for a day of shooting on the range, and had a fun day shooting with hillbilies. There was only one time he had to hit the deck, when one drunk fool engaged him in a full auto contest. Apparently AK clones have more kickback after a couple of bottles of bourbon.
After the day of shooting, Clive slipped into the seedier parts of town, and found a group of Strata fighters. Some Trust exchanged hands, and Clive spent the day improving his grappling, and exchanging punches with lots of unfriendly hopeful contenders. He spent the next several hours not in the ring but beside it, healing people and getting them back in the fight.
And so almost a week had passed, a week of growth and change. A week for the "zombie problem," as Clive called it, to grow. He was ready to jump back in the saddle, and find out what the wilds held.
edit- Math. Math should be fixed now.
edit to the edit- really, this time. I now know how bills become so inflated.