[Northern Desert-To Town]
"We're almost to town." James said, "I just need to make sure you two were ok after..."
He sighed.
"Look, I'm really sorry. I just needed to get us to town before the wind picks up, and we've been in this desert for god knows how long. I guess I got a little carried away."
Now out of his shock, John angrily turned to James, "A little? You sped! You could've gotten all of us killed!"
"J-John, I'm sorry. I just...I just want out of the desert and the wind is scaring me." James drove a little slower, trying not to make the same mistake again.
"You should've at least warned us!" John put one hand on James's lap, "I'm worried and I want to leave too, but can you please be a little more considerate? You have more than one person in the car!"
James sighed. "Yes, dear."
"Thank you." After giving James a quick kiss on the cheek, John looked back at Joseph, "Pancake didn't hurt you too much, did she? I'll check your injuries as soon as he get to town."
Pancake was now a little calmer, now trying to play with Joseph's tail.
"Sorry you went through all that," John continued, "He honestly meant well and-hey, why aren't you wearing a seatbelt?"
edited 8th Oct '15 7:33:45 AM by Masterofchaos
Crazy Kiwi
Northwestern Desert - Water Tower (Pump Shed)
[[Sophia, Gwion and Henry]]"...If it was me I'd just kill them if they weren't needed."
Sophia lit a cigarette and looked at Henry. "Actually, you did just kill them, and now they can't tell us anything. Were you one of the ones who put them here, coming back to finish them off? Or are you just a typical Septic: shoot first and ask questions later?"
Gwion paused in the midst of lighting his cigarette. "Steady on, Alpha..."
Sophia shook her head. "Yeah, nah. It's a fair question. He was pretty quick to ensure all three were despatched before we could subdue them and ask them anything. Either of us is more than a match for three unarmed Mundies. Healthy ones, let alone those sorry specimens."
Gwion nodded, lit his cigarette and turned to look at Henry, "Alpha's got a point, Henry. Which are you? Trigger-man or trigger-happy?" He was confident that, in the close confines of the shed, he could disarm the man before his pistol cleared leather if neccessary.
will post for The Tipsy Toad scene when I get home from work.
edited 8th Oct '15 12:12:03 PM by Wolf1066
Mr ship
[Water Tower-Shed]
Henry wasn't liking where this was going and saw that Gwoin was ready incase he tried to run. With a sigh he set his tankard down and decided to try to calm them down. "No I had no idea that they were here. I got trigger happy because I didn't know what they were going to do. I've been on the run before so many times that I tend to get a bit jumpy when three random people try to jump on me and people I'm traveling with."
Drummer Boy
[Edge of the Forest]
Dammit, Cyrus could do this faster...
Kito started composing the rune circle. He still hadn't related Crowe and Brin's entire conversation about the cyborgs to Cyrus, Cyrus didn't seem to have solidified an opinion on the short summary he had been provided earlier, and Cyrus wasn't feeling up to having a discussion about it in that moment in time. Both Kito and Cyrus would feel vaguely uncomfortable if one of them made a big decision without consulting the other, but Kito felt that he had no choice. Thanks to Hoshi's comments after the truce was declared, Kito was beginning to agree with Crowe about the cyborgs. He was reluctant to give Hoshi anything for fear of alienating Crowe and making it difficult to ask him more questions about the cyborgs later, but they had to help her for the good of everyone else. He wasn't particularly concerned about losing food supplies—he and Cyrus could probably hunt enough fresh meat for the whole group—but "anything shiny" might mean the others losing very important things, and he didn't want that weighing on his conscience. Most of all, he feared that the bandits might take an interest in Cyrus's medicine. They might think they could sell it for a high price somewhere. Telling them that Cyrus's life depended on it would either confirm its monetary value or convince them not to take it, and Kito was betting on the former. They weren't going to let go of it without a fight.
He barked softly to get Hoshi's attention and a circle of flowing shapes made of golden light appeared just above his head. It was about the size of an apple. It slowly drifted towards Hoshi and would simply float above her head. As long as Kito could spare the strength, anything that tried to hit her would be met with an invisible energy shield. Organic matter would also get a dose of electricity that would hopefully be enough to make it recoil in pain.
You better end this quickly, cyborg. Kito raised his lips into a snarl. I may have vast energy stores, but I don't know what we're up against. Hopefully we're not in over our heads.
The last battle's curtains will open on stage!
Main Street
The strange girl overheard what sounded like a deity drunk off his divine ass, judging from his slurred speech. Gods, hmmm? That's a subject where I have some experience, at least.
She went over to the conversation, nodding at the apparent god. "You know, I've spent some time with a god who was associated with wine, but a god who actually gets himself sloshed is a new one for me."
Edge of Forest
Anne didn't have much in her rune bag, but she did have something to help. Pulling out the very last rune in it, she looked it over. It was a physical enhancement rune; a little stale, but serviceable nonetheless. She pointed it at Hoshi and cracked it. The girl would feel a freshening burst of energy, as if she had just awoken from the best night's sleep ever and had a good breakfast, but nothing superhuman.
She looked towards Cyrus. "Just so you know, I'm out. Got nothing in my bag, and I'm too tired to use any more incantations. I'm going to need something to eat, and yes, I do eat, lack of a physical body be damned."
Forward, boys! For God's sake, forward!
Crazy Kiwi
The Tipsy Toad
Kris noticed Chloe enter the saloon with an unknown man who didn't seem to be particularly happy.Wolfe listened with interest to what Todd and Samuel were saying about this "Garden of Eden". Obviously the people of Serenica had the same religious roots as those of Earth if they knew the term.
Karl was also listening. Obviously it wasn't the real Garden of Eden as described in the Bible, but he gathered that it was a place of bounty compared with the war-ravaged land they came from.
James turned to Samuel. "Do you need money? I'm sure we can help if need be." Thanks to Sir Archibald, they had the local equivalent of one hundred pounds, which should be more than enough for anything they encountered.
Teri drained the last of her drink. "Let's go and find a hotel or something."
Northwestern Desert - Water Tower (Pump Shed)
[[Sophia, Gwion and Henry]]Gwion looked appraisingly at Henry. Either he was the best actor ever to miss out on an Oscar, which Gwion doubted, or he was on the level.
Sophia prided herself on spotting fakes and liars and Henry seemed genuine. She gave a glance to Gwion then looked back at Henry. "OK, but next time give us a chance to take 'em alive, Quick-Draw."
Gwion took a sip of his coffee then dug a small lamp out of his pack. He put it on a handy flat piece of machinery and switched it on. Then he shut the door, cutting off the daylight and wind coming in from outside. The light from the lamp was sufficient to light up the interior of the shed.
He then took a couple of black boxes from his pack. The smaller one he stuck to the door frame just beside the edge of the door, the larger one he stuck to the door itself right next to the smaller box. Then he pushed a button on the larger box and a little green LED lit up. "Portable alarm. If anyone opens the door, that should be sufficient to alert us even if we're asleep."
Sophia made a careful inspection of the room. "We should have no problem slinging our hammocks and we could probably make a makeshift hammock from my tarp and a couple of lengths of Spectra for Henry."
Gwion sipped his coffee and nodded. "Better than sleeping on the cold, hard floor. It's warm in here at the moment but it can get hellish cold in the desert at night and this shed's not insulated."
He finished his coffee and cigarette then went over to inspect the grilled cover over the well and its padlock.
From a vest pocket he took a small rolled up bundle of nylon cloth and unrolled it on the floor. Narrow pouches sewn into it held an assortment of metal tools. He selected a thin flat piece of metal that had been ground to a sharp point at one edge, slipped it into the key slot of the padlock and gave a deft sideways flick. The lock popped open. He snorted - locks with a single retaining pin on the shackle were laughably easy to open.
He turned to Henry and grinned. "No, I'm not a burglar. The average burglar doesn't bother with this shit - they just smash a window or kick your door in - but the tenets of Urban Exploration and infiltration are 'damage nothing' and 'leave no trace'... and sometimes the most interesting places are protected by something more than a sign saying 'Keep Out' or 'Authorised Persons Only'."
He dropped the padlock into a pocket, packed up and stowed his tools, and opened the heavy metal grating. "Dunno 'bout you, but I'm interested in knowing what's at the bottom of that ladder." He dug a slimline LED headlamp out of another pocket and put it on.
edited 9th Oct '15 1:00:02 PM by Wolf1066
[tipsy toad - Raelyn, Chloe, Tsadro]
As Chloe and Raelyn opened the door, Chloe's impromptu bodyguard stuck very close behind. Tsadro briefly stood on his toes to see over his client's shoulder, scanning the saloon's many occupants with pale eyes. His face impassive, he flipped the crown of his veil off his head to hang over his wood-disk necklace, then chose a table against a wall for the two young women. He sat on the outer side of the table, in case of problems from either side, and delicately slipped his gloves off as he listened to the start of negotiations.
He briefly considered a nonalcoholic drink as a courtesy to the owner but decided against it, feeling that the water likely wasn't going to be any good. Yes, it only superficially resembled Porint, but that whole county's got pollution issues, and although he wouldn't get sick, it wasn't like it would taste good.
"Jack, you have debauched my sloth."
[Town - Main Street]
This was getting to be quite a mess, so Enkar took a moment to consider the two diverging conversations. The first matter, of course, was that wretched American sugar-water. Disgust flickered across his face before he changed it into an expression of polite refusal. "No," he said to Kyle, rejecting the offer with an outstretched hand, "I'm afraid I must decline. Soda does not agree with me."
He measured the situation. First, Iraal and Scents. The longer he kept them distracted, the better. He couldn't afford to have them sniffing around the Dead God, after all. The Kykzavi were the true heirs to the Song, making all Songtech Kykzavi property. He couldn't just let the aliens steal it or its secrets!
Then of course, there was the drunken alleged demiurge, whose name he still had not picked up. He was fun, and a fine distraction, but fundamentally unimportant. Still, for keeping the aliens away from the Songtech, he might be helpful.
Finally, the new girl and her companion. Though she was dressed in painfully American style, she was clearly not human. A demon, most likely, which would make her dog a hellhound. She wasn't a demon of his world, presumably; she didn't smell like one, and her speech was too informal. So a very different breed from what he was used to, both hopefully and apparently a friendlier one. She claimed to have spoken to gods; a curious turn, but he didn't see a reason to doubt her. Or more explicitly, he believed that she was speaking honestly, even if not strictly accurately.
As he considered, a new goal became clear. "The animating force...?" he said to Scents. "I don't suppose your One has a habit of showing up, thoroughly inebriated, and challenging strangers to philosophical duels?" Another glance at Kyle. Then down to the girl. "He's not just any god," Enkar added to her. "According to his own claims, he is a demiurge, a creator and preserver of a universe." Considering her demonic countenance, he added, "I do hope you aren't the sort of being who serves ancient evils that exist only to destroy and consume universes." He said that with a casual, matter-of-fact tone, mostly because he actually did somewhat hope she was. It would certainly put the drunkard's claims to the test.
As he said this, he moved slightly away from the group's metaphorical center-of-gravity, so it would be easier to slip out of the conversation once he was certain it would keep Iraal and Scents busy for some time.
edited 9th Oct '15 9:55:42 PM by KillerClowns
[A Road to Town]
Connie pressed her cheek against the window, her eyes narrowing sharply. The truck passed by a fairly tall wooden board, rounded at the top and stuck into the ground. It had been painted at some point long before, and though the weather had worn away much of the base paint, the black lettering had—either by hand or by the will of the world—been preserved. It read:
Connie pulled away, a contented smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She glanced over at the man sitting in the driver's seat and, speaking in a bit of a spacey, sighing way—like someone who had just woken up and wasn't quite yet committed to staying up—said, "Only three more."
They were driving an old fashioned—or at least older-fashioned—truck. The front of the truck was almost flat, with its windshield in line with the rest of the front clip, much like a bus. Rip, the man driving, didn't respond immediately. He didn't even glance in Connie's direction; his eyes remained fixed on the road.
Connie's eyebrows raised, and then knitted together."Three mooore." she repeated, drawing her voice out in an almost sing-song way. Then she paused for a moment, watching Rip as she waited for a reply. When no reply came, she tried speaking in a lower, conspiratorial voice. "Hey. Three more and then we break the curse of the numb derrière."
The edge of the man's mouth twitched into something of a smile.
"Miles?" he asked, still not quite looking at Connie, although his eyes had turned to examine her side of the road.
Connie pressed her cheek against the window again, this time eyeing the wing mirror, but the wooden board was long gone. "That or kilometers, I guess." She replied.
Another pause. Rip's mouth fell into a frown for a moment. "Bigger or smaller? Kilometers to miles, I mean."
"S... uh, smaller, I think."
"All right. Then lets hope it's kilometers." He said, finally glancing at Connie with another compulsory smile. He nodded towards the back of the truck, "Go ahead and tell Davey. He'll be over the moon."
She smiled back—her expression holding only a light sense of uncertainty—then turned around in her seat and reached for the small window separating the front of the truck from the bed. The back of the truck had been converted from a strict storage area to a small room, with the bed of the truck itself being flat wood. The walls and roof were provided by a large metal frame covered in a thick canvas tarp, which did a bearable job of keeping the weather out. Aside from that, there were a few makeshift pieces of wooden furniture, including a bed. Connie knocked on the window first, then slid it open.
"Hey Dave!" she called. The truck hit a small bump, and a muffled cry—followed by a quiet clatter—came from the bed, somewhere beneath the crumpled blanket lying on its surface. There was a large bulge around the center of the blanket, about the size of a tall man hunched over, or a short man sitting upright, or maybe an average-sized man doing something in between.
Connie waited as the bump shifted around. After a few seconds, the blanket slid off, and Davey said—in a much clearer voice—"Rip, if you're gonna drive over a big rock or something and you know you're gonna drive over a big rock or something, don't you think it'd be courteous—just the tiniest bit of courtesy—to say something along the lines of 'rock', before you do it?"
Connie smiled faintly and glanced over to Rip, who replied, "Yeah, it would be, but I didn't see that last rock." His eyes fluttered briefly to the rear-view mirror, and he offered a curt, "Sorry."
"Oh no?" Davey said, sounding earnestly surprised—or at least mock earnestly surprised. He drew closer to the window, "So maybe... maybe we should have someone who is just a little more hip to all things rocks in the driver's seat?"
Rip's eyes met Davey's through the mirror once more. "Have I been in a terrible accident that's left me without my arms or legs or working eyes? Let me check." he paused, doing nothing but driving for about two seconds. "Oh no I haven't. Then I'll keep driving."
"I'd double check those eyes if you can't see a rock right in the middle of the road that's big enough to cause a bump like that."
Rip said nothing. "Maybe you've got them in wrong. Backwards? Like with batteries; I put them in wrong all the time." Davey said, trying to meet Rip's eyes again. But once again, they had become fixed on the road ahead, and Rip became... unresponsive. Davey quietly sighed and glanced back towards the bed. It was still going to take some time before they could speak, again, as friends would.
For now...
"Well, you've gotten us this far." Davey said in a notably softer tone. He pulled back away from the window. "Oh, but please do clue me if you're planning on steering us into a boulder or something, okay? O-kay."
Connie, who had retired to her seat as soon as Davey and Rip had started their typical back and forth, now turned back around and leaned toward the small window. "Hey Dave," she said again, this time with a little more purpose. Davey had since gone back under the blanket.
"Present and accounted for." came his muffled reply.
"We're three kilometers out. Well, even less now. Uh- we're near; you get the picture."
"Indeed I do. Thank you Connie, give me another knock once the town's in sight, won't you?"
Connie paused, eyeing the talking blanket-lump. "Hey Dave," she said again, frowning while her eyes narrowed sharply, "what's, uh... what's goin' on under there?"
The blanket sagged slightly as Davey heaved another sigh. "I'm keeping the weather out. Trying my best anyway."
Connie's eyebrows shot up. "Really? You're cold even with all the- f- f—" she caught herself and quickly rephrased "...the, eh... even with all you're wearing?"
Davey let the blanket slide down to his shoulders, and gave Connie a look. In the voice of a mournful poet, he lamented, "Even so, Connie. Even so."
"I mean, it just doesn't seem all that cold." she said, reaching her arm through the window and waving it around.
The look Davey was giving Connie intensified, "Connie, if it's scientific evidence you want, that's going to take a few days. For now, my word? Please?" He began to pull the blanket back up over his head, "I've got only a few chances left to lie down before we hit the town and I'm hoping against hope to take advantage of at least one of those chance before Rip finds another rock to run over."
"Alright..." Connie said, hesitantly. She squinted at Davey again—or rather, at the blanket that was covering Davey. "You know, we're going-"
"-to a desert; of course." Davey cut in, "A desert with a big hot sun. Yes. But we aren't there yet, so I think I'd like to focus on handling the cold for now. Chilly, and all that. Besides, it wouldn't be very becoming to show up in town, get a room and immediately invest in Zs. And by 'not very becoming' I mean standoffish, and a waste of both time and money."
Connie shook her head slowly, "Waste of time and money, okay, but we're not going to a party. We're not, are we? It's just a small town, right? I mean, who really is going to care whether or not you're being 'standoffish'? It's a fucking town. Unless they've got some creepy policy for having complete strangers greeting each other, then who gives a damn?"
"I give a damn, Connie." Davey said, sucking in his breath. "I give a damn. I haven't given up on socialization despite what rumors might persist around that man at the wheel." he flicked his head in Rip's direction, "And that's why they're rumors; they're unsubstantiated, and—in my experience—more often bogus than not."
Connie shrugged submissively, as she often did whenever it became clear that Davey's enthusiasm for ranting and arguing over the most trivial things would far outweigh her own. "Alright, okay." she said, "You go ahead and get your rest, and I'll just..." she shook her head and shrugged again, beginning to pull away from the window.
Davey pulled the blanket back down to his shoulders, just enough so that his head was visible. He caught Connie's gaze, pointed towards his eyes, pointed at Connie, then pointed again in the direction of Rip.
"If you say so." she said, pulling a somewhat vacant half-smile. Davey returned it as earnestly as was possible, gave her a quick thumbs-up, then vanished once more beneath the blanket. Connie closed the window.
She settled back into her own seat, leaning her head against the door's window and staring idly at the road ahead. She did chance a glance in Rip's direction, but the man looked about as far away as anyone could when they were sitting a foot away. It was unclear whether or not he'd even heard the exchange between Connie and Davey at all, let alone parse any of what he was hearing. Did he care?
Connie stared silently at the man out of the corner of her eye. He'd only spoken three or four times during the entire duration of the drive, including his brief dialogue with Davey from minutes earlier. She understood why the man had been so reserved, but couldn't make sense of the timing. For the past several weeks his mood had slowly been improving. There were even instances, small snatches of the day where everything, almost everything seemed back in order. Untouched. Unbroken. Normal. Or at least, things were in line with the idea she'd come to accept as "normal".
Now this sudden relapse. Connie wasn't sure what to make of it. She wasn't sure whether she should make anything of it at all. Did Rip want words of comfort? Did he want a voice to pretend that it understood? Or did he want the solitude that he'd held onto so firmly, even while sitting right next to her? If that was the case, then why didn't he just get himself some proper alone time? Why the hell would a man who didn't seem to want to talk to anyone want to trap himself in a small hotel room in a small desert town with the two people who would most want to talk to him?
She lowered her eyes, then turned them back towards the window. Grief, she supposed, will come and go. Maybe it was going.
Davey turned the stone over again, careful to grip it by the cloth wrapped around the bottom. It was solid and weighty, with a smooth surface, yet very sharp, slate-like edges. Jet black, and quite like onyx. In fact, one who didn't know any better might just as well conclude that it was onyx.
But Davey did know better. He knew that Rip wouldn't be hauling around a small slab of onyx in his luggage with no purpose; the man, for all his travelling, was not much of a collector. The items he kept on hand were of specific utility. Given the stories he'd heard of the stone in his hand, of its association with proclaimed thaumaturgy and thaumaturgists, there was a fair chance that it too held a very specific purpose to Rip. Davey had a fair idea of what purpose that might be, but had no clue on how the man planned on accomplishing any of it. After all, the stories he'd heard were several steps below secondhand, and though Davey would never be one to doubt the will of the world's unnatural workings, he also knew well the dangers of believing in every parlor trick he was shown.
In that sense, he did not put much stake in the stone's worth as an artifact to "reach beyond their mortal plane". Some socially responsible part of Davey felt like he ought to be confronting Rip directly about the stone, but in truth, he didn't know what good that would do. It would only serve to drive a barrier between them at this sensitive point in the man's life. Better to let it be. Play dumb. Leave the man to discover for himself the sad futility of his act, and be there to catch him when he fell.
With his mind all made up and tied with a bow, there was not much else for Davey to make of the stone, save getting lost in it's somewhat mesmerizing shimmer. He began to wrap it back up in it's cloth concealment, then adjusted his own blanket concealment just enough so that he could see out. When it was clear that no one up front was looking in on him, he quietly crawled out from under the blanket and—with swaying steps—made his way over to a large trunk near the foot of the bed. Crouching behind it—out of sight from anyone sitting up front—he carefully undid the trunk's clasps and lifted the top just enough to reach inside. After a moment of rummaging, he pulled out a long and worn-out black sock, and stuck the cloth-wrapped stone inside; just as he had found it.
He raised the lid a little higher and gently placed the sock back into position, as best as he could remember. He stared silently at the sock for a second as a sorry set of feelings hit him. It was pure desperation, the stone. A hope so forced and unlikely that Rip didn't dare tell anyone about it... probably in fear of ridicule, or of being told what he was surely already deeply afraid of. He had even kept it from Davey. After being his friend, confidant, and damn near close to his brother for years, it hurt for Davey to look at that sock and understand what it meant. However, that hurt wasn't for himself, but for the man who would desperately grasp onto every last fleeting scrap of hope that he could somehow set his world back into order. No, things would never be quite like they used to. That ship had sailed. It had sunk.
Davey closed the trunk just as a sudden vibration shook the bed of the truck beneath his feet, and the light pouring in through the canvas roof shifted to a warmer color. It was like coming out of a tunnel, only more terrifying. At least, it was for Davey. He'd never heard Connie complain about it, and Rip had, on seldom occasion, described some discomfort. But never fear.
Another knock came at the window. He quickly relatched the trunk's lid and scurried back over to the bed, acting as though he were folding the blanket. The window slid open.
"Wakey wakey, rise and shine." cooed Connie. "We're out of the South Pole and into the Sahara."
Truck Visualization
◊
[Road to Town —> Railway Street (Corner of Main Street)] (Connie, Davey, Rip)
The long, VW-looking truck bumped up and down on the desert's dusty road, rolling along at a considerable pace and making a beeline straight for the town. It rumbled past a stopped SUV that was just beginning to move again. The whole vehicle seemed oddly wet, as though someone had taken a hose to it. That wetness quickly turned to dustiness as the wind picked up. The truck hadn't been terribly clean before arriving in the desert, but by the time it rolled into the town's main avenue it looked as though it had been sitting out in the weather for a day at least.
The truck entered the town through Railway Street's eastern front and began slowing down. It drove past the turn into Main Street, then pulled over and came to a stop in front of the building sitting at the corner between Railway Street and Main. The engine died, and after a short pause, the doors opened.
The first was the driver's-side door. It opened slowly, and out of it stepped a tall man with dark eyes. He was wearing an olive-green wool sweater, a pair of gloves with the fingers rather crudely cut off, dark brown corduroy trousers, and pointed black boots that looked somewhat fashionable, though possibly not really ideal for a rocky desert. His very dark brown hair was meticulously swept back, reaching half way down his neck. He had a bit of a bushy mustache below his nose, separated at the center, and long sideburns that grew into something of a beard, though the would-be beard had been shaved off at his chin. With light-but-visible age around his eyes—including a short nick in the skin above and through his left eyebrow—he looked like he could have been anywhere from his mid thirties to his forties.
Then the passenger door opened, and out jumped a girl with dark eyes. She was in the midst of taking off a heavy, Prussian-blue parka. Underneath, she had on a not-too-thick, not-too-thin, black, long-sleeved undershirt; not a color ideal for any day-treks in the area. She was also wearing very insulated-looking grey pants tucked into another set of pointed boots that wiggled around a little loosely when she walked. Her nearly-black hair was pulled back and tied into a low bun, and had long, dangling bangs that decorated either side of her face. Her brown eyes slowly lit up as they took in the building she stood before. Her face was caught somewhere between adolescence and womanhood, bearing both a striking maturity and the vague, slightly cherub-like roundness of her earlier youth. A teenager, to be sure, but she could have been anywhere from fifteen years old to eighteen.
After a few seconds, the canvas flaps at the back of the truck rippled, and out climbed a notably smaller creature with dark eyes. It looked a bit like a ferret or a badger, or maybe even an otter, though it was not quite any of these things. Standing upright as it did, the critter was about the size of a small child, measuring maybe a little over four feet* head-to-toe. It had a short muzzle punctuated by a wide, blackish nose and rows of whiskers, laid-back ears that stuck out a short ways beyond its head, and two inquisitive brown eyes. Its arms were a mite size longer than the average forelegs of the critters that it resembled, and its paws looked a little more like tiny hands, each bearing what seemed to be rather stubby-looking thumbs. Its legs were fairly short and more stout by comparison, though the creature did somehow manage to walk upright with them. It had a tail that was rather longer and more rotund than the creatures it resembled most. It looked more akin to the tail of a river otter, or even a wallaby.
The most curious thing about the creature, however, was that it was just as well-clothed as, if not more well clothed than, the two people who had preceded it. Not only that, but the creature's wardrobe seemed to be tailored near perfectly to its shape and smaller stature. It wore a dark grey overcoat that hung nearly all the way down to its feet. the coat was laid atop a maroon cardigan, which had a neat set of buttons that ran all the way to the creatures neck, where it gave way to a white shirt and a little black necktie. Visible just below the critter's overcoat was a pair of dark trousers that reached down to just above the creature's ankles, which were mostly covered by an oddly-shaped pair of white shoes. It even seemed to be wearing a long pair of socks.
The first man gave the building a quick glance, making no particular note of anything, then walked up to the door, with the two others following leisurely behind. It was a medium-sized square shaped two-story building, with a large wooden balcony on the second floor that hung over the front porch. A sign hanging from the balcony's ceiling advertised it as a bed and breakfast of sorts.
"Hey, you two," the man said, "will you start unloading the luggage?" His voice was a little deeper than average, but only a little. The girl nodded, and both she and the creature took a few steps back toward the truck. Then the man opened the door to the building, stepped inside, and closed it behind him.
The girl turned around and lowered her gaze to meet the shorter creature's. "Gotta say, it's a little more than a ramshackle cabin in the middle of nowhere."
The creature beamed, then spoke with a man's voice—not quite as deep as the other man's, but still probably not what would be expected from a small ferret-looking thing.
"It is, isn't it? Well I'm glad you like it. I don't know if you've noticed, but it isn't easy to convince Rip not to skimp on accommodations, even in the best of times. Especially in the best of times, actually."
The girl nodded, "Yeah, I kind of picked up on that. That's why I was expecting something a little more on the rustic side." She turned her eyes towards the man for a moment. He was still at the front desk, nodding at the clerk. "So what'd you do to convince him? It's not because of me—because I'm here—is it?"
The smaller creature gave a short, airy laugh, its face scrunching up as it did so. "Oh I doubt that. No offense to you Connie, it's simply that Rip isn't the type to care much about making good impressions. At least not by showing off wealth or treating people to nice things."
Connie rolled her eyes, sighing and grumbling, "Okay then, so why are we being treated to this... 'nice thing'?"
"It's cheap." stated the creature, "Miraculously so. Sings to the tune of... well, free."
"No shit?"
"Sans the gas money, no, none at all."
"'Free' free?" Connie asked, her voice and expression combining for a dripping skepticism. "No coupons? Friends on the inside track? Shady back-alley deals?"
The creature tipped his head again and scratched at his neck. "Well, it is a friend thing. Someone he knows, or who owes him a favor, something along those lines. He hasn't told me much at all, actually, which is..."
He left the thought unfinished, except for a glance given to the door. Connie followed his gaze, then looked down at the him and, trying not to really look down at him, gingerly touched the creature's shoulder.
"Dave..." she began, letting the name hang in the air for several seconds. Then, she followed it with, "...you've got to take some of that shit off. How are you not a million degrees hot right now? Honestly? Wait- better question: how are you not dead?"
Davey patted her hand and shook his head, letting out a soft snuff of a laugh. "Yeah yeah. Lets get the luggage." He said. Then, without giving Connie another glance, he turned to the truck and headed back to it.
Connie just frowned and shook her own head. He was the only person she knew who liked to wear a necktie casually. She almost kind of doubted he'd have changed out of his ridiculous winter-wear without her input. She glanced back at the building one more time. For a rickety old frontier town, it didn't look so bad. That part of town didn't, at least. Before heading back to the truck, she walked to the corner, and looked out at Main Street. There was quite a view, even if what it offered wasn't much to see. She did, however, spy a rather large group of oddballs a little down the way, all gathered together and... chatting?
"Weird town." she murmured.
this place needs me here
Crazy Kiwi
Main Street
A patch of air shimmered and distorted and two figures stepped out of it onto the packed dirt road.The first was a man who looked to be in his thirties; about six feet, or 183 centimetres, tall, of lean build and fairly handsome. A mane of long bleached hair swept back from his forehead, a thick blond moustache hung down either side of his mouth to the bottom edge of his jaw and from a distance, his arms appeared to be pale blue - on closer inspection, this was due to them being extensively tattooed with indigo spiral patterns.
In the setting, his attire was incongruous to say the least: Black leather shoes, brightly coloured tartan trousers, a red t-shirt and a sleeveless vest of an irridescent material that shimmered reds, blues, greens, purples and gold depending on how the light caught it. His t-shirt was not tucked in and was gathered about his waist by a thick leather belt, giving the impression of a tunic. Around his neck was a silvery torc of twisted strands terminated with stylised bird-head finials.
From one side hung a bulging haversack, from the other a strange-looking electric guitar with a built-in speaker, their straps crossing over his chest and back.
The second was a woman of willowy build and indeterminate age - anything from a mature teen to well-preserved forty - with long dark hair gathered in a plait at the back and unnaturally green eyes. Her facial features were of the type usually called "elfin" and, indeed, her ears were noticeably pointed.
Despite her exotic features and build and in contrast with the strange attire of her companion, she was dressed in green T-shirt, black jeans and trainers and was carrying a small nylon pack on her back.
They looked around as the shimmering distortion faded to nonexistence behind them, noting the strange group of people further along the street and the incongruously modern vehicles parked nearby.
The woman spoke first. "Is this really the place?"
"Near 's I can gather." The man's accent was noticeably Irish.
"Strange place. Any idea where they'd be?"
The man's eyes latched onto the impressive façade of The Tipsy Toad. "I t'ink we should start with the tavern."
The woman grinned. "You always think that." She followed as the man struck out towards the saloon.
The Tipsy Toad
They paused inside the door to look around. The decor and most of the inhabitants looked very much in keeping with the "Wild West" appearance of the main street but there were others here who looked as out of place as the two of them: a young girl wearing a fashion model's idea of "Western" clothing and a large sword; a large group of people with leather moccasins, modern clothes and an assortment of rifles; a couple of military types; a young man in a robe and a couple that wouldn't be out of place in most modern cities.The man headed for the bar and came to rest close to the armed group, noting the eclectic assortment of pouches, knives, water bottles and - bugger me - a sword. One of the group, a woman with shoulder-length brown hair, a pistol on her hip and an AK-47 slung over her shoulder, gave him an incredulous look. He gave her a quick glance, noted her left arm was paler than the rest of her body and deduced that it was artificial. Swords and cybernetics! What a group.
He unslung his guitar and haversack and carefully placed them on the floor against the bar then dropped a banknote on the bar. "Bartender. A large ale, if you please."
The elfin woman dropped her pack onto the floor and settled onto a stool beside him. "And a whiskey and water, please."
At the sound of her voice, the six people dressed in anachronistic clothing turned and stared at her.
When their drinks arrived they lit cigarettes and settled in to relax.
The elfin woman looked around the bar. "D'you think we should ask if anyone's seen 'em?"
edited 10th Oct '15 4:31:44 PM by Wolf1066
[THE TIPSY TOAD]
Tana was somewhat taken aback by Todd's insistent denial of The Garden's existence. He seemed amiable enough on the ride home.
"Yes," she agreed, "there's gotta be one somewhere. It'd be a pretty useless settlement if there wasn't." After that, she got up, and so did Christopher.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar girl walking in. It occurred to him, when he first walked in and met the Terra Nova group, there was a wasted girl, possibly too young to even touch the stuff, leaning on the bar. Right now, she seemed to be doing just fine.
Soon, other strangers entered the bar, attracting the attention of Wolfe's posse.
edited 10th Oct '15 5:14:59 PM by TroPartner
Main Street
The strange girl glanced around at her acquaintances. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lilith Blackheart, Crown Princess of Hell, though most call me Lily. This here is my pet hellhound, Lucy." She turned to the girl who had made a rather uncouth accusation towards her. "And no, neither I nor my father eat universes. In fact, there's a lot of misconceptions about us."
Lucy chose that moment to give the demiurge a big, slobbery dog kiss. It was just like being licked like any other dog. Lily looked at the scene with wry amusement. "It seems you two have one thing in common, at least; she can't hold her licker, either."
Forward, boys! For God's sake, forward!
PAINKILLER
[Main Street]
The rider pulled into the main street, and at first sight, saw some strange characters. There were aliens, a publicly intoxicated tourist, a girl with a strange dog, among others. They figured earlier they'd crossed into someplace beyond Serenica, but the mix of inhabitants was impeccable. They stopped their hovercycle, and dismounted. They leaned it against the wall of a building, near to other small vehicles.
They looked to the west, where the dust clouds began to gather and form. But within town, the wind wasn't too terrible. They lowered the mouth covering of the head scarf. It revealed a soft mouth and chin. People could figure they were a girl, but would only know by her voice.
The group that caught her eye earlier had a boring conversation, and a bit intense one, perhaps. Asking them for information? Nah.
She instead saw a cargo truck of sorts, bound by wheels. A girl and an animal were working on unloading luggage.
Curious, she walked down main street, approaching them.
Near to them was a bed and breakfast sort of place, which kept to the rustic theme of the rest of the town usually seen in Mid-Serenica. There was also the truck which looked beaten up or very dirty.
As she got near to them to speak, she removed her goggles and placed them atop her head. From the lines of her face and eyes, she was in her mid to late twenties. She eyed the creature strangely, as it was a bipedal otter or weasel with clothes. "Excuse me, do you need aid?"
[The Tipsy Toad]
As Samuel finished his drink, he looked around to see the tavern had gotten more additions. He noticed his companions glared at a woman and long-haired man. He also saw the adventurer girl from earlier, with someone new.
Vic started to feel a bit trapped. He also felt eyes upon him. He wanted to leave, and go someplace else, but he knew one from the group would catch him. He trusted Samuel to cover his back, but he still refrained from moving. The bartender picked up his empty plate and asked for payment. Vic went into his pant pockets to give some Serenican bills. "I don't know if it will cover it, I'm sorry," he said quietly. The bartender just accepted it, and moved on to other patrons.
If Nosferatu knows, then truly, there's something wrong. Maybe I should tell Sam, but not the grunt boy. Dammit, what will the Advisers say? How can I explain? There was the pain again from his torture, but it was soreness in his thighs. He winced, and rubbed the areas, both close to his crotch. He continued to think, And how are we going to get back? This place isn't Serenica. We came from the South, but who knows how we can get back? Todd then downed the last of his beer.
He wanted to stave off his stress. "Excuse me, I'll pay for everyone," Todd said to the bartender, indicating the six, Samuel, Chris, and Tana. He went into his pockets to find cash. There was nothing in his pants. He felt in his jacket. But it was also empty. His eyes widened, and he pat his pockets again in a frenzy. "What the shit?"
"What?" Samuel burped.
Todd's fist slammed to tabletop and yelled, "They fucking robbed me, Sam! Those dirty, rotten, indecent, cheating, lying, nutcases!"
Samuel stared at him strangely. He could then feel stares on him. He said loudly, "You've had a rough day, Todd. Chill."
"I'm trying to 'chill', Sam, but 20,000 fucking bills were in my pockets," Todd snarled.
"Why the hell were you carrying that much?" the Colonel asked. But Samuel understood the ramifications. They were all dead, all to be buried under desert sands. But Todd just shook his head and hid his face in his hands.
Vic looked up sheepishly. He refrained from saying it earlier, as he needed the cash. "Mr. Kreiser, or whatever, I have 2,500." He got out of his seat, and went over to the Commander.
Todd looked at the money, then back up. "This isn't all of it."
Vic bowed his head. "I paid for my sandwich. Sorry."
Current Time: 6:00 pm
Current Weather: As the sun dipped lower, colors blended with the blue. But the changing sky was secondary to the eerie winds and western clouds. In the far distance in the west, a storm of dust and sand brews...
edited 11th Oct '15 1:21:37 PM by electronic-tragedy
Life is hard, that's why no one survives.
I'll respond with Davey and Connie soon, but I've been neglecting these posts for a while now.
[Desert ~ SUV (Heading to Town)](Joseph, James, John, Pancake)
Joseph shook his head dismissively. "Yeah- no, I'm all right. Just some mild scratchage. But, y'know, I used to have a cat, so that's nothing new to me. More importantly..." he turned his eyes to Pancake, then raised the end of his tail and laid it on top of her. "...Pancake seems fine too."
Joe tensed up slightly when questioned about his seat-belt, then, wearing a sheepish half-smile, he explained, "Uh... I em, I was trying not to get the seat too... well, you know, dirty. I guess I forgot to, uh, fasten myself. Sorry about that. And sorry about the seat."
He turned his head and glanced at the seat, his half-smile fading into a no-smile. As he'd feared, a lot of the dirt from his clothes had transposed itself onto the seat, despite his best efforts. It wasn't exactly his fault; he hadn't seen James's little now-it's-a-race-car stunt coming. And although he potentially could have stripped down to his underpants to lessen the effect, that would probably make the two men fairly uncomfortable, to say nothing of himself.
He raised his shoulders in a shrug and lowered them with a quick sigh, then reached for his seat belt and dragged it across his lap, careful not to get in the way of Pancake or her play.
this place needs me here
[Desert-Main Street]
John smiled. "Don't worry too much about the mess too much; that can be easily cleaned."
Soon, the car had arrived to town, and with good timing; it was starting to get dark and it was still windy outside. Was a storm brewing? No one knew, but James was sure as hell not going to let something happen to his love, Pancake, or Joseph.
"Here we are." he said, parking the car.
"Wow," John said, "I didn't expect to see so many people here. Do you think Frontier's are super popular with people?"
"Perhaps." James said, "Right now, we need to find a hotel. I have no idea what's going on outside and I'm not staying to find out."
John got out the car, and opened the passenger the door so Joseph could get out easily. He tried to gently grab Pancake, but she decided to climb onto the boy's shoulder instead.
"Aww, she likes you!" he said, chuckling, "Anyway, do you want to still hang around with us? Or are you considering leaving? Either way, James and I can hand you some cash to help you out a little.'
Crazy Kiwi
The Tipsy Toad
Christopher, Tana, Samuel, Todd, Peggy, Teri, Kris, James, Karl and Wolfe.James had absolutely no idea who the outlandish-looking newcomers were, but one thing of which he was certain was that the girl with the strange green eyes and pointed ears was a New Zealander, or "Kiwi". He had spent enough time in Kris and Wolfe's company to recognise the accent and by the way the others were staring, it was obvious that they had picked up on it, too.
He noticed that Tana and Christopher were already standing and ready to leave so he slipped from his stool and adjusted his load ready to go.
Kris was elated. The girl's kiwi accent confirmed her suspicions about the man's appearance.
Wolfe was about to say something to the elf-girl but Todd's sudden discovery that he had been robbed drove that thought from his mind. He had no idea what denomination bills Todd was talking about or what the exchange rate was, but 20,000 of anything - except possibly lira - was a substantial sum.
Teri turned to face Todd. "Twenty thousand? Are you saying we should'a' looted the bodies?"
James turned to the bartender, placed some money on the counter and signed that it was to cover Samuel, Todd, Tana, Christopher and all of his colleagues.
The bartender nodded, scooped up the money and made change.
Karl turned to Peggy and asked if she felt up to walking.
"I'm fine, now. I don't feel so bad after hearing what Todd said about his time in captivity. I just want to get somewhere to rest and put today behind me."
Teri, Kris, Peggy, Karl, James and Wolfe headed for the door and stepped out into the hot air and rising wind.
"I'm bloody sure I spotted a hotel earlier," said Peggy. She pointed south down the main street. "That way."
Finn and Kaitlyn
Finn watched the strangely-dressed, oddly-equipped group leave. He had considered asking them if they had seen the people he was looking for but from what the pretty Scouse woman had said, they probably had enough concerns of their own.
He took a sip of his ale and put it on the bar then picked up his guitar and switched it on. He played a simple chord then began to sing.
The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you'll find him;
His father's sword he has girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him;
Kaitlyn grinned and joined in.
"Land of Song!" said the warrior bard,
"Though all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"
edited 11th Oct '15 8:09:54 PM by Wolf1066
Mr ship
[Water Tower-Shed]
Henry nodded as Gwoin picked the lock, being impressed with his speed. "Yeah let's see what we have down here." He said pulling out an old metal flashlight.
They both started to go down the ladder with the smell of human waste getting stronger as they went further eventually they reached the bottom, where Henry accidentally stepped in some. "God Damnit!! These are fucking Allen Edmonds!!!" He yelled trying to shake it off. After getting enough off he turned to Gwoin.
"Well we're off to a great start aren't we." He then turned around pointing the flashlight to a dark tunnel.
"Huh what do we have here? Come on let's see where this leads." He said starting to follow the tunnel
Screw it, I'm going ahead and posting.
[Town - Main Street]
Iraal groaned. "Oh, come on, come on, enough of the theology," she muttered to herself, completing ignoring the brightly glowing warnings that her social interaction software was throwing up at her. She didn't really care about live gods, self-proclaimed or otherwise. What she wanted was to find out about supposed dead ones. Not that she thought whatever it was that the Percipient Order had found out about in the desert was really a 'god' - dead, dreaming, and/or otherwise - but it did sound like the sort of thing she wanted to study.
Hey, Scents said over their internal comm implants. Doc. You do know he's lying, right? She sent an overlay flag around Enkar's head as he began to edge away from the conversation. That little move had made her much more certain that the First Advocate knew more than he was letting on.
Lying? Iraal replied.
Probably.
Iraal growled. Well, then why are we still standing here?!
One minute. I wanna talk to the kid first.
The vayen hunched further, putting her furry head level with Lilith, and stared at her with her central eye, seemingly unfazed by her weird appearance or her dog made out of fire. (In truth, she was simply avoiding thinking about them. It wasn't hard after the Gate). "Um. Begging apologies if I'm rude, Princess, but as far as I'm concerned 'hell' is a misconception. No way the universe really works like that." She sniffed at the girl, curious how much - if at all - her scent differed from a normal (real?) human.
Crazy Kiwi
Northern Desert - Below the Water Tower
OK, I'll run with it...Gwion chuckled and the shaft and tunnel threw back strange echoes. "My boots are Italian."
There was no water at the bottom of the shaft or in the tunnel but for the last seven or so metres of the descent, the walls of the shaft and ladder had been coated in damp slime, indicating how high the water had come in the past. The slime coated the floor and the interior of the tunnel and made the footing treacherous but the soles of Gwion's SIDIs provided good grip.
He hollered up the shaft to tell Sophia that they had reached the bottom safely and had found a tunnel then followed Henry into the tunnel. The dampness and slime reminded him of storm drains he had explored in numerous cities.
The tunnel was about two metres in diameter, which meant neither of them had to stoop, and it seemed to go on forever. The light from Gwion's headlamp was far brighter than the yellowish glow from Henry's flashlight but even it was swallowed up by the darkness of the tunnel.
Due to the dark slime coating the walls, Gwion didn't notice the side tunnel until they had almost reached it. To his surprise, this tunnel not only sloped upward at a fairly steep angle, there were steps cut into the rock. "Well, this certainly isn't for water. Let's see what's up there."
He led the way up the steps. After a while he reached the high-water mark and the slime abruptly gave way to clean dry rock and a few minutes later he could see that the passageway ended abruptly and a ladder gave access to a wooden hatch in the ceiling.
He climbed the ladder and gave an experimental push on the hatch which lifted easily and enabled him to gain access to the space above it.
It was a moderate sized room cut out of the rock and filled with wooden crates and barrels with numbers stencilled on them. He tried the lids on a couple of the crates but they were securely nailed down. "This looks like someone's cache."
He explored the room and found a door that revealed another tunnel with steps leading upwards. He figured it most likely led to ground level so he turned his attention back to the crates, looking for a clue as to what was in them.
One of the crates had obviously been dropped as one of the boards on the side had come away from the end slightly. There was just enough room for Gwion to get his fingers in the gap and pull on the board, The nails pulled loose from the wood with a tortured screech that sounded loud in the confines of the room and he was able to pull the board clean away from the crate, leaving a gap large enough for him see into.
The crate seemed to be filled with bundles of oilskin so he reached in through the opening and pulled one out. As soon as he touched it, the hardness beneath the fabric and weight gave him a pretty good idea of what it was even before he laid it on the ground and unrolled it.
Sure enough, the roll of oilskin contained a lever-action repeating rifle - brand new and slathered with grease to preserve it.
"It's a fucking military arms cache!"
Attitude is prohibited
[Main Street] >>> [Northern Main Street]
Hana hadn't said anything for a while. She really didn't appreciate Kyle's constant belittling and claims that she was avoiding thinking. That, combined with the facts that she'd never been particularly invested in the conversation in the first place and was not overly fond of either self-proclaimed academics/intellectuals or strange aliens, resulted in her totally loosing interest. A small, radio-like device chipped in her pocket, and she brought it up to her ear.
"Yes?" She said into it. "No, I'm not busy. What's wrong?"
And summarily, she walked away from the group, with Rin and Maya following suite.
[Edge of the Forest]
"Aw, sweet!" Said Hoshi, as she received the magical buffs. "Well... Is that everyone? If so, then I suppose I'm ready." She grinned. "I dunno about you guys, but I - for one - can appreciate a nice fight, every now and again."
Not entirely dead.
[THE TIPSY TOAD]
And there's another thing I learned in that neighborhood. Tana reminded herself as they found out about Todd's clothes being looted.
When in questionable company, feel your pockets often. VERY often.
Christopher was just standing up to make his own offer when James made payments for everyone. Instead, he gave a dumb stare at the two responsible for the sudden music, his only response being a confused "Who?". As for Tana, she smiled widely with amusement.
Main Street
"No offense, ma'am, but we get a lot of people who think that. Not necessarily that they think we don't exist; whether or not one believes in God is irrelevant. No, they think that there's nobody available to hold them accountable for their actions when they kick the bucket."
Lily sighed. "Think of it this way. Hell is like jail. You get sent there from crimes against your fellow man, but most of those sentences aren't life. Once you're released, you're by and large free to go where you want, but you still need to check in with your parole officer. That's Purgatory. Eventually, the parole officer goes away, and you're basically a normal citizen. That's Heaven, and honestly, most people end up there."
Forward, boys! For God's sake, forward!
[Main Street]
Kyle shrugged and pulled the bottle away from Enkar, dropping it back in his bag. "Wha'evs."
The moment Hana picked up the phone, Kyle started yelling, trying to be heard over the line. "She's jus' gettin' out-debated by a drunkard! 'Pared to 'er, I'm a master d'bater!" He smirked at the rest of the group. "See? She don' think 't all. She don' 'ave 'n answer, so she wusses out an' wal's away wi'out ev'n tryin' t'come up wi' anythin'." He turned back up the street where Hana was leaving, cupped his hands around his mouth, and bellowed out, "Paaaaaaansyyyyyyy!"
Having said his part to Hana, he wheeled to face Lily, a look of surprise on his face. "Wha' kinda god o'wine don' get drun'? Gettin' drunk's th'best part o'wine! If people wan'ed t'drink wine an' no' get drunk, they'd go fer some kinda juice 'nstead. Tastes're sim'lar 'nough. 'S like goin' t'th'beach wi'out swimmin'. Sure, y'can, but wha's th'point?"
edited 19th Oct '15 6:05:02 AM by TeraChimera
[Main Street]
Enkar could tell that Iraal was growing impatient and Scents was suspicious. There seemed to be a certain vague similarity in body language and especially tone. He wasn't aware of their conversation, though; he was competent, not omniscient. Still, best to try and prod Scents into continuing, not leaving, the conversation. "Perhaps," he said, "your universe does not work like that. I won't guess. But metaphysics across universes is astoundingly variable... there are a number of theories about the causes, but suffice it to say, what is most interesting is how universes with utterly different metaphysics produce humans."
He smiled wryly. "I am well aware of the arrogance inherent in anthropocentrism, of course, and yet..." he paused, as though remembering himself. "Ah, but I suppose none of you would care to endure my theories of why, to offer just one example, the princess of an eternal realm beyond the veil of death," he looked over at Lilith, "should take a form so akin to a hominid from the savannas of an irrelevant oceanic planet orbiting an insignificant yellow star in a mundane part of an unremarkable galaxy?"
[Edge of the Forest]
And Moreg just laughed wickedly. "Maud... hit it."
Maud nodded her understanding. First, she zapped herself with another of her wands. Then, moving with truly superhuman speed, she used the hexagonal wand to strike Moreg with a beam of chaotic energy. There was a puff of lightning... and Moreg's empty armor toppled over, with a gnome flying out. There was no chance to take advantage of the moment of weakness, though, as Maud hit Moreg with another blast from the same wand.
The battlefield was dark, and the monstrous gray dragon that now loomed over the battlefield grinned a toothy smile. "That's more like it." However, Moreg was taking a moment to glory in his new form, giving Hoshi a chance to try and strike first.
[The Tipsy Toad]
Vic, at first, considered the words said by Karl. Though he still had his eyes dejected, he understood. "I see."
Vic answered Christopher, "Yeah, The Gardens of Eden. It's uh, well, rumored to be like a great big forest and grasslands on the southern edge of the country. Most of Serenica is a desert, save for the northern valleys. Even then, most of them were burned in the war."
Samuel pitched in, "It's rooted in the main belief that if something befalls a nation, like our famine, God will give us aid. Now I know someone who said he was there— a great big forest, he said. He also said soldiers got him out of there and threatened him with treason if he told," Samuel began to chuckle, as if it was a silly notion.
Todd's head perked up.
Vic's eyes widened. "So it could exist?"
"No," Todd said sharply. "It's just a religious-based wishful thinking lie."
Samuel looked to Todd, puzzled. "You all right?" The Commander sighed and mouthed 'sorry.' Samuel pat his friend's shoulder. "I'm sure there's an Inn or hotel somewhere. Anyone got cash? I know Todd's gonna pay for this."
[The Southern Desert]
A motorcycle-like hovercraft tore through the southern desert. The wind was terrible, so the rider knew a sandstorm was coming.
The rider was dressed on tan and brown clothes- a bomber jacket, a utility belt, and camo pants tucked into combat boots. They were also wearing a black head scarf of sorts drawn up over their head, and covering their nose. Rider goggles protected light brown eyes.
The rider themselves was around 5'6'' and of indistinguishable build.
An item on their belt that was ticking throughout the ride began to pick up in rhythm. The rider took a hand off the handlebars to feel it. Getting close.
A rock protruding out of the desert came into view. The ticking went crazy. Once they were close, they slowed down the craft.
They dismounted nearby.
The jet. They walked forward, seeing the burned and rusted jet. No sign of life. Even from behind the scarf, their nose smelled something foul.
They walked awhile past the rock, and found a hovercraft lying on its side. With further investigation, the smell came from dead bodies. The rider wrinkled their nose in disgust. They were all cultists from telling of their garb. There were no survivors. One of the most grisly deaths was a man without a cheek. The other was the leader, shot several times with a bullet lodged right between the eyes. Flies and bugs began to swarm the bodies. The desert winds were already taking care of disposal and burial. It was pitiful, but should be well deserved.
The rider figured Samuel and Todd fought them and escaped. They plucked out binoculars from their belt and searched the horizon. There was a semblance of a town. It was enough to go on. They got back on the hovercraft, and rode towards it.
Life is hard, that's why no one survives.