IC- Chapter Three: Lone Wanderers

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Grim, Jim, Nat, McReady, followed by Pipboy, made directly for the small group around Gruug. The other two squads moved to either flank. They would stop at a building, toss in a grenade, and then move in. With each group was one man with a Flamer, which made the work more dangerous. Flamers could easily be knocked aside, and a fellow squad member, rather than a hostile, would be torched. Their adversary might have been few in number but were tough and resiliant, and they were somewhere holed up. It was just a matter of finding them.

Grim counted five dead. That meant at most maybe 3 or 4 more.

The small squad moved towards where Talon and Blade held their ground. When they reached the body of Gruug, they crouched down and took positions. On either side the squads were moving up cautiously.

"Good to see ya." Said Talon.

"Good to see you're still here. What's out opposition like?" Said Grim.

Talon looked out over the street, past Gruug's unconscious body." Can't quite tell. We figure three or four of 'em are still out there. But they've been quiet." Said Talon.

"Well, we'll just have to flush em out." Said Grim, "Feeling is that we can't move the carts around the town, and then we need to move the brahmin through. So we can't have a couple of these beasties picking off cows as we move through."

"Fuckers did a number on us." Swore Talon. "Near lost Buffy and Gruug, well, we don't know yet."

Ibis looked back at the others. "Gruug will make it. He just needs some time to come out of this. But he ain't bleeding no more and it looks worse than it is."

Buffy was rubbing her chest and belly where she had been hit, but her eyes looked dazed and confused. “I think I’m alright. Damn, didn’t see that one comin.”

Grim smiled and looked at Talon. “Don’t be too tough on yourself. I see five of them down and you’ve only got two wounded. You’ve also held the position and turned the battle inour favor. I’d say you did ok with what you had.”

They heard a crash the the left, where Gabriel was.

“Gabriel.” Said Blade.

But the flanking squad had heard it. And where moving in. Talon yelled at the leader. “Watch it, we got a guy in there.”

The flanking squad nodded, and then went in.

_________________

In the basement of the building, Gabriel crouched an waited, listened, smelled the dust and the blood, tried to use his senses and instincts.

He heard the club swinging, and rolled to the left, slipping on the blood of the giant rat, as the club went high, past him.

Then down and around, using his panga to slice through the creatures tendons.

Then away, as the creature roared in anger.

The club falling towards him, like a giant sledge falling, Gabriel darts to the side, slides his knives across the creatures midsection, slicing across, through skin and organ, but not enough.

The creature collapses to its knees. One hand is trying to hold its midsection together, the other ready to swing the club should Gabriel come close. He waits, quiet. Unsure if the creature can see him.

The creature is growling, and even on its knees, is trying to move near him, across the floor, now sticky in blood.

It growls, low and menacing.

Gabriel backs up, and feels a wall to his back.

Feeling cornered in the basement.

He readies to dart out again, this time, going for the throat.

Above, foot steps.

“It’s down here.” He hears a voice.

“Get the torch and burn it.” Says another.

“Hey!” yells up Gabriel, “I’m down here.” A douse of flamer would turn the basement to an oven.

The creature lunges for Gabriel, swinging the club.

Gabriel turns, aside, bringing is panga down, cutting through the creatures wrist, removing the club. Then turns around, bringing the big knife around, slicing into the neck.

The creature tries to bit, but the throat is cut through.

“You ok?” Says the voice.

“Yeah, but I could use a hand up.” Says Gabriel, suddently aware that the basement is more a giant pit.

He looks at the creature, now fallen to the floor, bleeding.

Amazing, it still breathes.

“I’ll help him, you go ahead.” Says a voice, familiar to Gabriel.

“Alright, but don’t delay. You got an incendiary?” Says another.

“Yep. I’ll burn it, don’t worry.” Says the familiar

Gabriel can hear the others move off to the next building.

The familiar voice waits until Gabriel leaves. Then he kneels down close to the edge of the stair well and peers down.

“Gabriel, now I got to wonder. Why didn’t you kill that Blade when you could have?””
 
Gabriel peered up at the man. It was the tall bald headed man, the Slayer who had tailed him on this caravan.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Said Gabriel. Protocol was to deny association with another Slayer while in cover.

"I think you betrayed the order, Gabriel." Said the Slayer, quietly but with menace.

"What order?"

The man laughed but without pleasure. "So you still want to play the loyal nightblade. But there are men here who were on the 'El. They saw you there."

"I was on the 'El, yes." Said Gabriel. Remembering the battle with the deathclaws.

"You could have taken a shot. An unlucky shot, the fortunes of war. One less Blade, and the order would have been happy. I wouldn't be here." said the man.

"I am still not sure who you think I am."

The man gave an exaggerated sigh. "I could kill you, now. "

Gabriel had nothing to say to that. It was beneath him to beg for his life.

"It would be easier. You were lost during the mission, valiant, noble, a hero of the Slayers. YOu would be remembered well. Otherwise you're just a traitor." Continued the man.

Gabriel thought about throwing a knife. But the man was carefully out of vision.

"But maybe it's better that way. You can still redeem yourself, Gabriel. You can still be the hero of the Nightblades you wanted to be. Otherwise, you will be cursed by all who know you. A traitor to the cause, a marked man, an outcast."

There was no way out of the hole. No ropes, stair was ruined. he could jump up, but it was doubtful he could jump high enough.

Behind him, he could hear a long exhale from the giant Trog. Apparently it had not yet been killed. Gabriel preferred not to look, certain it's body was already regenerating. He could imagine the wounds quickly closing.

"I think I'll just leave you here to think about that. You and your friend."

Then Gabriel heard the man leave. He turned to listen to the Trog. It's breathing becoming more regular.

But Gabriel wasn't the only one in the room.

Silent as a mouse, Pipboy had snuck into the room to scavange. Instead he had overheard the men talking. Overcoming his fears he had listened. And know he knew.
 
OCC- Ok I am going to leave the Gabriel- Pipboy situation to either Sander or Reaper.

Reaper, welcome back.

Smar, you still with us?

Who else is still here?

I'd like to wrap this encounter up pretty fast, so if anyone wants to finish it up in a couple of posts, great.
__________

ICC- Outside, Ibis continued to work on Gruug, and slowly the big mutant was coming back. Buffy was slowly becoming conscious again of her surroundings.

Talon looked at her. "Do you need to go back? Perhaps you can bring back Gruug when he come too. "

"Yeah, I can get em back. But it might be better if we hold here."
She felt dizzy and lightheaded but slowly, the pain in her abdomen was making her realize the reality of her situation.

Talon looked over at Blade. "OK, they are going to hold here. We're going to move forward. We need to flush out these houses."

Grim nodded. "And the faster the better. This is holding up the caravan and there is more distance we need to travel. I think it would be better for all of us if we were miles from this place when we set camp, and the day is half gone."

Thing Two and Thing one had come in and conferred with McReady. Then McReady turned to the others. "They say that they seen rats leaving town going northeast of here. Looks like quite a few of 'em. ALso got tracks saying that the rest of them Trogs are probably held up near the end of town in a big house."

On either side of the road the squads were making quick work, using flamers and grenades were ever a hint of danger might be. Occassionaly they might hear the rat-tat-tat of automatic fire, the whoosh of a flamer or the dull explosion of a grenade going off indoors.

Already the squads had moved up better than a block. The only resistance had come in the form of giant rats, which more often fled the flame then attempted an attack.

But further ahead, like an idol over the road, stood a big old hotel casino, its roof collapsed in places, the veranda slanted and rotten from long decay. The road split to either side of the building, marking a fork in the road. At one point it had been used as a casino, perhaps recently. But who had ever taken up residence and business there had long since departed. Most of the window had been boarded up, but the building was in such a dilapated condition, Grim thought a strong wind might be all that were needed to bring it down.

From behind a few of the caravan guards came in, carrying more flamer fuel and ammunition.

Talon, looked at the others, "Alright, we ready?"

Nat shook her head. "I'm staying here and looking after my boy."

Talon nodded. "Buffy, you keep her company till Gruug can move. Ibis?"

"Couple minutes for him to collect his senses." Said the old man. Nearby, Cerebus had taken a position near the door of the house into which the Trog had dragged Buffy.

"Where's Pipboy?" Asked Nat, resting her sniper's rifle across the body of a dead Trog.

The little man had disappeared.
______

On the higher ground to the south of town, Rogue and Syphon moved their position further along the side. They would take turns sighting and targetting, but besides a few rats, had seen little. When they had taken their shots, the two had compared notes. Having dropped almost a half dozen rats from distance, the two had killed enough for the night's supper. Eventually they set up a position to the rear of the big hotel.
_____________

Further behind, Reed had finally come up and was talking to Hook.

"How they managing?" Asked Reed.

"Looks like the first group got ambushed but now they're clearing out the town. Making for that big building at the end of the road."
Said Hook.

Hook had been debating moving more of the men up and taking a more forward position. But the carts needed to be secured and the brahmin herd was still in the canyon. They were prettys stretched and rats seemed to be coming out of a series of underground sewars with exit points in many places.

They had lost one man already, and Hook was reluctant to lose more.

"Maybe we should move the herd up." Suggested Reed.

Hook looked at him harshly. "The damn herd is safer where it is."

"Maybe, but it would be better if we drove the herd around the town and bypassed this. THen the carts can follow." Said Reed, looking over the higher ground to the South of the town.

Hook had also considered this. The ground could be traversed by the brahma, but the ground was too rocky for the carts. The carts would have to follow the road.

Hook shook his head. "You move the herd prematurely, they might be stuck with the carts on one side, the herd on the other, and that damn house in the middle. Between the Trogs and the rats, I don't think the herd will make it through the night."

"I ain't up for this damn delay." Said Reed.

"Ain't much choice." Said Hook.

"We behind already." Said Reed, "And we need to go far if we going to make the next water hole tonight."

"Then ride em hard. tonight or we drink tomorrow."

"Fuck that. Hook you're the military expert. You clear the damn way, and no more fucking delays, damn it." Said Reed. He was tired of taking Hook's advice. Besides he was boss.

Hook looked at him, considered cursing him and then thought better of it. "Alright, I'll see what I can do." Calling together a few of the remaining reserves, Hook moved towards the town.

Reed waited until he had entered the town when he called to the others. "Alright, I want to start bringing the herd up. Let's go. No more fucking delays."

By the time Hook had arrived with another squad, the others had cleared the town without further losses. With the pair of snipers holding the rear, the two flanking squads were positioned outside the north and south walls, with Talon and Hook's squads facing the broader west wall.

Hook, McReady, Grim and Talon conferred. "What do you figure?"

McReady spoke first, "We figure maybe three or four, five most. Probably held up inside. Waiting for us to come in and then play havoc."

"Yes, they won't come out for us this time. They'll wait for us to come in and get them, where its closer quarters and they can use darkness to their advantage."

Grim looked back down the street. Where the hell is Gabriel? "We don't need to play their game though. We could blow through the front rooms and then torch the place. Smoke 'em out."

Hook nodded. "I'd rather they come to us then us go to them."

"What about possible friendlies?" Asked Talon.

"Doubt we'll find em." Said McReady. He was chewing on something. "This town has been a ghost town for awhile. Shit, this is the first time we had any action going through."

"Still if we burn it, the fire might block up the road. delay the caravan for a good day at least." Said Hook.

"That doesn't leave much besides us going in and gettin em."
 
OOC: Hello everyone, I am back. I'm still busy with coming home stuff, so I won't be posting round the clock but it is good to be back and writing.

I hope everyone is well. I have read the stuff I missed over the last three weeks and I am impressed and am looking forward to participating fully once again.


IC:

Fuck.

That pretty much summed up Gabriel's thoughts. He was stuck in a basement with a regenerating beast that was as bigger than a deathclaw and almost as hard to kill. He was confronted with accusations of treason against the Order, denied an easy escape and now, added to the simple dilemma facing him, the little ratman had overheard things which could not be repeated.

A tricky situation.

Despite the internal turmoil raging inside his head, Gabriel remained calm and controlled as ever, his training and emotion- sapping callous instincts taking over.

He reached behind him and drew the big SiG Sauer P226, walked toward the groaning Trog. He paused for a second to look at Pip who was standing near the beast, his eyes flicking between the curious new monster, something he had never seen before, and the tall Nightblade. Gabriel was surprised by the lack of fear but then he assumed the little man was not clever enough to understand his predicament.

"Move." Gabriel said simply. Pip moved back, stepping away from the Trog, his eyes now fixed on the assassin.

Gabriel looked back down at the Trog and looked into the blinking, angry eyes, seeing pain, rage and helplessness. The beast knew it could heal but it could not heal fast enough. Like all animals, man included, it wanted to live.

Gabriel fired five shots, tightly grouped, into the Trog's temple. It jerked a little and one of its legs spasmed, then it was still but Gabriel had already turned away from the beast, knowing it was dead. He stared at Pip, his cold blue eyes dull in the dim light. Blank and emotionless those inhuman eyes stared.

"You killed it?" asked Pip, nervously.

Gabriel nodded.

"How did you get in here?" the assassin's voice was flat and dull as his eyes.

"Ground torn. Bad walls over there." the little man pointed to a dark corner. "Heard stairs fall in, looked for other access. Narrow tunnel. Be a squeeze. Maybe too tight for you."

Gabriel nodded again.

Pip held Gabriel's stare, surprising the assassin, though he didn't show it. Then Pip's eyes lit up and he looked back the way he had entered. "I go up, tell them the bad man didn't help you. You need rope." He looked back as found the assassin standing a few inches away.

"No." he whispered.

Pip saw that the man was relaxed and had no weapons visible but still, he felt as though he were facing an army of men pointing rifles at him. A sense of ... void, of nothingness, surrounded the tall young man. Pip realised that standing near Gabriel felt like standing next to death.

"I...I -"

"You will stay silent. You heard nothing of the 'bad man'. He does not exist to you, he never said anything. If you tell anyone of your hallucination, I will know and I will take you eyes, your tongue and your thumbs. You will neither see, nor speak and never repair anything ever again."

Gabriel could hear the words coming out of his mouth but he did not believe them.

The man standing before him should be dead. Should have been dead as soon as he heard anything. He should have died before the Trog.

Why was he still alive?

Another sign. He wasn't the same man he was when he left base. What did all these little mercies add up to?

He didn't know.

Still, he saw the effect of the words in Pip's face. The expression didn't change, Gabriel guessed it was frozen in a rictus of terror but he could see the anguish in the eyes, the horror of the idea of what he had promised the little man.

Gabriel waited for a reply, though he knew from past experience, it takes people a while to find something to say to a threat like that.
 
OOC: And inspiration hit me ;) I'm gonna add a new dimension to Pipboy, let's see what you think of it...

IC:
Pipboy looked back and forth from the Trog to the assassin, both of which were very dangerous....

Thinking about what the other man had said about Gabriel, Pipboy wasn't paying an awful lot of attention to the still living Trog right next to him.
He decided it would be best to confront the slayer with what he had hear, to see if he was a slayer, and if what was said was true, it might come in handy to know later on..

"I go up, tell them the bad man didn't help you. You need rope."

"No."

"I-I"

"You will stay silent. You heard nothing of the 'bad man'. He does not exist to you, he never said anything. If you tell anyone of your hallucination, I will know and I will take you eyes, your tongue and your thumbs. You will neither see, nor speak and never repair anything ever again."

Gah! He threatened me. He-he....he said those things, that was cold......that was bad!
But...it does....show that it was true, what that man said, it was true! Not only that, but......he wasn't strong enough to kill me. Not strong enough....or not willing.....he must've changed. Slayers don't do that!

For all the years travelling on caravans, Pipboy had learned and heard many things, he knew about slayers, about blades about almost every faction around, and he knew slayers don't leave loose ends. Especially not the Nightblades...
Pipboy hoped that the slayer had become more merciful, and that his lack of adequate verbal communication could convince the man that he wasn't a threat.

Bah, he'd have to get that thing he found working, if it did what he thought it did. He sure hoped it would do exactly what it looked like, it would come in handy...a lot.

But first, Pipboy needed to get out of here, and he needed to get Gabriel out of here, even though he had just threatened him, he couldn't leave the Slayer here, besides, he might be handy some day....Hopefully...

"I-i g-get rope, I get y-you out here...", said Pipboy, even though his thoughts had gone on fast enough, he was still shocked by the threat...

"Do that, but don't tell anyone..."said Gabriel, hoping the filthy little man would actually get him a rope and help him get out of here, instead of leaving him here to rot....

Pipboy nodded and started to climb out the way he came in.

Once outside, he started to look for a rope, but he didn't have to look for long, fate would have it that he found a good rope just a couple of metres away...

Pipboy tied the rope to a nearby post, and threw the rest down.

"There, rope, I go now...", said Pipboy, deciding it would be best to leave the slayer alone there...

OOC: Right, that's it for now, I'll post more later on today...
 
OCC- Interesting developments. I had mistyped or misled you both. Sorry. I had originally thought Pip was in the room above Gabriel, and had come in while Gabriel was having his little talk with his watcher. Even so, you folks pulled that together nicely. Good to see you both back posting.

ICC-

Nat had not eased up behind her rifle until the wagon had appeared. Until then, it had been merely her with the sniper rifle, Buffy, who was recovering from her hit, and Ibis working on the still unconscious Gruug. She could only have counted on Cerebus should the position been attacked, and frankly, the three-headed dogs regular growling made her nervous.

It was a relief when Feeble brought up her cart. Feeble's real name was Able, but had gotten so old and run-down that everyone usually just referred him as Feeble. To old to do much more than drive a cart or occassionally help with the cooking, Feeble had volunteer to bring up Nat's carft. The truth was that he was sweet on Nat, but so far had not had the money to afford a poke as some of the others might. Still, the old fellow had his hopes.

He pulled the cart next to Gruug's laid out body, allowing enough room for Ibis' cart to pass by, bringing the M-60 up against the West wall. The other carts stopped behind Nat's and she could hear Reed moving through giving instructions to the others.

Feeble looked over at Nat. "Brought your cart up for that big fella. Volunteered even. Heedless of the dire risk, I might add. And why? Might you ask?"

The machinegunner ahead yelled back, "Because you're trying to get some trim?"

"Indeed, that too." Said Feeble, "But because I figured it's what you wanted, Nat."

Nat, finally resting her arms and shoulder from being crouched behind the rifle, looked up at Feebles old, tired face. "That's a might generous of you Feeble."

"Indeed, it is, my find young lady. And as my Momma used to say, one good turn deserves another. So how about it? You goin' to give me a freebie?"

Nat smiled and looked up at the old man, shook her head in surprise. "Alright Feeble, I guess you deserve a bit of special tender loving care. On the house." Then Nat turned to look at Ibis. "How is he."

"Surprised he ain't coming too yet. But he should pull through. Still he should stay off his feet for awhile. He'll need to ride in the cart for a day or so." Said Ibis, resting a tired hand on the big dog. "And no, don't feel obliged to give me a freebie for my services either."

"Alright, but I owe you." Said Nat. "Now how we going to move him onto the cart."

One of the men who had come up on the carts had gotten up and gone forward to see what was what. "I'll help, if you'll give me a free one Nat."

"Me too!" Said a second.

"Include me!" Said a third.

"Count me in that action." Said a fouth. Soon others had made similar offers and it seemed Nat would have a busy night with little renumeration.

The words "Alright.." were in her mouth when Gruug suddenly stood up.

He turned his head to look at Nat, then at Ibis, then back to the others. THen he shook his head and sighed. "Humies. Thank God the Master didn't dip all of you. Makes me glad to be a mutant."

Then Gruug got up, painfully, wobbled over to the cart, sat down on the back of the cart, carefully laid his head back until he was looking up to the sky, and closed his eyes.

_____________________

Hook looked back to where Ibis's cart had pulled up, the M-60 gunner steady behind his mount. "Fucking Reed, impatient bastard."

"Looks like we go in." Said Talon.

Hook nodded, let's do it.

Waving his arm forward, the two squads in front moved towards front doors of the casino. There were three doors, a main one, and two smaller. Grim and Talon each took one of the minor doors, while Hook, leading a squad with Blade and McReady, moved on the first.

Grim looked over at his partner, Jim, nodded. Jim kicked at the door. It didn't budge. Then he kicked it again, using more force. This time he broke through, knocking the door aside. Then Jim stepped back and brought up his automatic rifle. Grim tossed in a grenade. Both men took cover as the grenade went off.

Inside, something big roared, as the door blew back into the frame from the grenade's concussion. Jim kicked it again, and Grim fired a long burst. Then Jim went in, firing, followed by Grim.

On the opposite side Talon and Virgil executed a similar manuever, had entered without opposition.

But at the main door, Hook's squad burst through the door, tossing in grenades and firing up the room with shotgun and automatic weapons fire. The moment they had stopped firing, Blade and another had stormed into the casion to provide cover for the others from inside

The other guard screamed only a moment after he had entered the smoke filled room.

Then the scream was suddenly cut off.

The others outside watched as the head bounced out of the room, down the casino steps and out into the street.

"Jeesus!" Yelled Blade, who opened up with automatic weapon fire at the first of the Trog's came through the smoke and bearing down on him. He blasted at it with his M-16, but the 5.56 rounds seemed to have little effect on the creature. Then he stabbed at it with his bayonet, as the creature took a swipe at him with the club. He tried to duck, but it was too late. The club hit him hard on the shoulder, knocking him aside and out through the door and out into the street. He felt the blood on his shoulder as he lost consciousness on the street outside the casino.

"Torch it!" Yelled Hook, as one of the other men brought their Flamers to bear. Two long tongues of flame went through the opened casino doors into the main lobby, igniting everything they touched. Then the men quickly moved to either flank. Hook prepared another grenade.

But beforfe he could throw it, one of the giant Trogs came through the main door, it's body aflamed by the liquid jell of the flamer fuel. It whipped its giant club, the same that had knocked Blade out into the street about. Hook ducked and moved back, as the M-60 gunner hit the creature squarely with a burst, knocking it back into the casino, where it fell to be consumed by the flames.

Ibis moved quickly to where Blade lay on the ground, while others formed a quick position around the wounded man.

"Burn it, let none of those damn things out." Said Hook. The two men with flamers, immediately fired another burst into the building, while the others with automatic weapons waited for another attack that didn't come. "How is he?" Hook asked Ibis.

"He's hurt, but he should survive. But we should get him out of here."

Hook looked back. "You men" pointing at two of the caravan men who had come up to be spectators. "Bring Blade back to Nat's cart. Pronto. You others, get ready if anything comes out."

But with the main lobby now afire, the remaining Trogs did not venture forward. Rather, in their desire to avoid they fire, they moved deeper into the other rooms, where they confronted the other men who had gone in to destroy them.
 
Reed watched as the front of the Casino Hotel was engulfed in rising flames. Smoke billowed out the second story windows, and tongues of fire climbed up along the walls, bursting everything they touched. The house, dried from long exposure to the desert sun, was a tinderbox crackling under the heat.

In front, the Hook's squad watched as the fire swept through the building, waiting expectently for another Trog that never emerged.

"Shit, shit shit." Cursed Reed. If the house, imbalanced from years of neglect, could easily fall out, across the road, blocking transit through the town. It was bad enough the building was afire, it woudl be too much if the road became blocked by burning embers.

"You" Reed pointed to a small group of men," Go back into Cart 6 and bring back the footlocker marked for delivery to Grey Cliffs, labeled Rockwell Model 1211A BigBazooka. And don't drop the fucking thing."

The man ran back to the cart marked 6 and quickly brought back the foot locker.

Cart 6 was a special delivery for the Fraternity of Blades, and Reed had taken a peek to see what was so special about the package. Indeed, Reed knew the entire caravan was merely a cover for delivery of four carts of supplies to the Blades, delivered in secret from the Blade encampment shortly before it had been so mysteriously been whiped out. Conner was supposed to have provided merely the brahmin, carts and drivers, the Blades were supposed to provide their own escort. But plans hadn't quite worked the way everyone had expected.

Dante wasn't going to be happy about this, but he would be more pissed off about the delays. It was bad enough Conner hadn't been able to get the caravan moving because of the raiders, more delay was inexcusable, not for these clients.

Reed quickly opened up the locker, and withdrew the rocket launcher and handed it to one of the men who was watching. Then he withdrew one of the three explosive rockets in the locker, and loaded it in the end of the launcher. Impatiently, he took the rocket launcher back.

"Alright, everybody, clear some space now." Reed called out, as he got to one knee and aimed the launcher through the front doors of the casino. The idea was simple, structural damage inside the building might lead the building to collapse inwardly on its own weight.

Hook looked at Reed in surprise, his attention having been forward. The other men quickly moved away from the front of the weapon.

"Reed, what the hell?" Called out Hook.

"I told you not to burn it, damn it. Now we got to bring the damn building down before it collapses into the road."

"We got people in there."

"I'll give you a count to 60 to get em out, then we blast."

________________

A few hundred yards from the rear of the building Rogue and Syphon first noticed the smoke coming out of the front of the building.

"What the hell do you think their doing?" Asked Syphon.

"Not sure but it don't look good." Said Rogue.

Then one of the back doors slammed open and two of the Trogs ran out and into the noonday sun. It was better to face enemy rifle than the flames of the casino.

One of the Trogs ran to the left, but the other made right for the position of the snipers.

____________________

Inside the building Jim hesitated in front of a building, and looked at Grim. Neither man had heard the flamer fire, but had heard the gunfire. Neither were aware the building was burning.

Jim listened to the door, and heard the roar of the fire a few rooms beyond.

"Something ain't right here." Said Jim.

Just then the door was knocked out, hitting Jim, who fell back as the door collapsed upon him. A Trog slammed its club like a sledge hammer, smashing the door aside, and lurched into the room.

One of the other man, near the door, fired a burst of .45's from his M3A Grease Gun into the creature, before it hit him with its giant spiked club, picking the man up and throwing him across the room like a small animal. He hit a wall and collapsed, whether unconscious or dead, Grim couldn't know.

Jim on the floor, under the door, was conscious of his danger and tried to crawl out as the others fired at the giant creature.

The man with the Flambe 450 hesitated. They were all too close to the creature and could easily be caught in spray of liquid napalm.

Bullets tore into its side, tearing through skin and organs, as the creature stepped on the door atop of Jim and readied its spiked club to smash Jim's head like a over-ripe melon.
 
Gruug opened his eyes again, and looked back down, and then got up, using the cart to help him to his feet.
He was a bit shaky at first, then started walking around without wobbling, untill he could walk in a straight line again. Gruug then turned and looked at what was taking place, reed taking a rocket launcher and pointing it at the building. Gruug then saw the angle at which he was going to shoot, which was wrong, and would bring the whole casino tumbling down on him.
"AIM MORE LEFT" Yelled Gruug.

OOC: I'm back.
 
OCC- Nice to see you back Smar. Reaper, since you weren't sure how to work with this, I might be resolving a problem for you, here.

ICC-

Jim quickly tried to scurry out from under the door that had fallen upon him, but the weight of the Trog on the door pinned him down, allowing for little movement. He looked up at the creature bearing down on him and knew his situation was hopeless.

Grim moved between the Trog and Jim, pointed his automatic rifle at the creature's face and let loose a desperate burst. The 5.56 mm bullets tore into the creatures visage, stopping the creature.

But only for a moment. With its long taloned hand, it swept Grim off his feet and effectively threw him across the room, where he landed against a wall.

Wincing from the pain, Grim turned around, his hands reaching for the automatic weapon that had fallen nearby. But he wouldn't be quick enough.

The man with the Flambe 450 bent down, took aim at the creature. But before he could fire the last of the men got between the creature and Jim.

The man, a tall, bald man that Grim had seen a few times at the camp but whose name he didn't know, held a six shooter in one hand and a long slightly curved sword in the other. He fired the pistol quickly into the creature's neck and head, then swept the sword across the creature's midsection.

The cut was deep and long, opening the creatures abdomen, releasing the innards within it, which spilled from its body onto the smashed doorway. Blood, like paint, splattered in all directs. Regardless of its regenerative abilities, the Trog's wound was mortal.

But it was not dead yet. With a last desperate effort it swept it's claws back, even as it began to lose balance. Had the man been faster, he might have ducked. Had the Trog been more balanced, it would have beheaded the man. Had Reed fired a moment sooner, or had Gruug not called out his warning, the blast might have caused an interruption of events, and the blow might never have landed.

Instead, fate dealt its hand. The hand missed the man's head, but's claws did not. One claw, sharpened and well used from years of hunting and gutting giant rats, sliced across the man's throat, cutting through the essential veins and arteries.

The man looked down as his own hands were covered with his own arterial blood. Then the center of the building exploding in dust and fire, creating a gapping hole in the floor. The Trog, stepping back, trying to hold itself up and trying to keep its organs within its body, was unbalance, fell backword. The body hit the weakened floor hard, and the rotting floor boards could not hold the weight. It fell through the floor and down into the darkness below.

The man fell to his knees, and then lurched forward, dead before he fell on his face.

The survivors could barely see in the dust and smoke of the blast, but they could hear the boards giving way as pillars began to tumble and the roof began to fall inwards.

The flame thrower moved to the man who had carried the grease gun. Finding him alive if unconscious, he quickily started dragging him out of the building. Grim, moving across the floor, found Jim, more by touch than sight. Together they picked up the heavy door enough for Jim to crawl out. Together they hobbled out of the building as the building collapsed behind them.

_________________

Out back, Rogue and Syphon fired at the Trog that was heading in their direction. The other had gone off in another direction. Not being an immediate threat, they it go to concentrate on the one that was bearing down on them.

Each shot hit the creature like a heavy punch to the body, but still it came forward.

__________________
OOC- of Syphon and Rogue show up, you can finish this encounter
_________________

Talon, Virgil, McReady and the others had gotten word from Hook that Reed was firing and had been able to vacate the building in time.

They stood outside and watched, with the others, as Reed fired a second and third shot into the building. Then, slowly, like a house of cards, the casino walls fell inward upon its blasted and burnt hulk, collapsing down into the large basement that had once been storehouse for food and liquor, long since abandoned.

In a deep thunderous boom, the building finally fell in a black cloud of soot and ash that towered over the old ghost town like an ancient mushroom could.

_____

Reed waited until it was over then looked over the men.

"Alright, enough with the delays. Let's get a move on." Reed called. "Come on we don't have all day. Hook, lets get him moving. McReady, you got scouting."

Ibis looked over his wounded, "Reed, I need time for these wounded and we need to bury the dead."

Reed looked annoyed at the request, but nodded. "Alright Ibis, you watch over wounded and bury the dead if you can find em, but don't delay. If it gets too late, bring them with you and you can bury them tonight. This way at least the rats won't get 'em."

Then in a louder voice Reed spoke ot the others. " We got a long way before we can make camp and the day is half wasted already. You men, bring up the damn herd from the canyon. Bring em south around the town."

One of the tribals had come in to speak to McReady. Then McReady turned to Reed. "We still got one of them Trogs. Gone to the Northeast, but it might come back and harrass us. We should go after it."

Reed shook his head. "No, McReady, I want you up front and getting us to the rest hole tonight. We need you here. Grim, you up?"

Grim could still feel the pain in his side from where he had been knocked aside, but nodded. "I can go after the Trog."

"Good, you take three others with you."

Grim looked around for Gabriel. Where the hell is he?

Jim's leg had taken a mean twist and was being looked at by Ibis. Nearbly was Blade, unconscious, and Buffy, still looking dizzy. Gruug was pacing about Nat's cart as Nat tried to help Ibis the best she could.

Grim looked over at Gruug. "Gruug, best you stay back with Nat. There might be rats around here, and they might come back. With the rest wounded, it'll be better if they have someone to watch over." Grim didn't add that Gruug should also rest to recover from his wounds.

Gruug nodded.

Now what about Syphon and Rogue? Better to have a pair of snipers and take the Trog from a distance than up close. He had already had that experience and did't relish the thought of a rematch.

OCC- Ok Reaper, either the tall bald headed undercover Slayer has been killed, in which case you might be able to adopt his really cool Katana sword, or the beheaded man was just a caravan guard and you still have a chance at retreaving that cool sword.

I am posting almost on a daily basis and will try to continue to do so. But please folks, keep posting. I will try to slow down if you ask so that you can develop your subplots as you will.
 
Gruug was seething in anger inside. His wounds had healed enough, he was bored, and rats posed no problem seeing as they had all been scared way out of town by the Trogs. Gruug knew he could take down the Trog by himself, no need for some pissy snipers. But he would not go wandering away again without permission from either hook or reed. He picked up a rock and threw it at the tumbled down casino.
"Fuck." Was all he needed to say.

Gruug knew he needed to get better soon, so he decided to do a perimeter jog. He jogged upon the Trog he had kicked over the car. Gruug peered down at it, it was still breathing. Gruug picked it up, and pinned it to the sturdiest building he could see with one of his knives, and started punching it. Again and again, broke it's arms, then broked it's legs. Punch punch punch punch punch. The thing was in phenomenal pain, so Gruug grabbed it's neck and twisted it sharply, and heard the satisfying CRACK of it's neck breaking. He withdrew his knife from the Trogs shoulder, wiped it on the building and sheathed it.

Gruug kept jogging around, but there were no more Trogs for him to vent his rage on. So he jogged back to camp, with a soft thud thud thud every time his feet landed on the ground.

Gruug went over to Grimm, who looked quite hurt.
"What's wrong hummie? Little Trog get to ya?" Gruug laughed when Grimm glared at him.
"I guess so. You see, me being a mutie and all, I can recover quicker than you hummies ever could. But seeing as you decided not to shoot me back at the boarder post, here." And with that, Gruug threw Grimm a super stimpack and walked off.
 
(I'm sorry I haven't been in, lately my computer has crashed but now I'm back. Sorry for the inconvinence!)
 
Gabriel tried to get up but he couldn't move. He shook his head to clear it but his mind was still foggy. He tried to get his hands under his body and push himself up but his limbs were sluggish and unresponsive.

What the hell had happened?

He couldn't remember. His head hurt and Gabriel feared he had received a concussion. He may be fast and tough but if his brain was fucked, so was he.

He had climbed up out of the basement, using the rope Pip had thrown down. Then what? He had looked for Pip. He was regretting his mercy and was considering a quick execution but Pip was gone. After his fortuitous and silent entry into the basement, Gabriel was not surprised the little man had managed to sneak away. He remembered thinking that if Pip could be taught to use a knife, he could be a deadly assassin. All a silent killer needed was stealth and a sharp blade could negate any strength imbalance. The biggest giant around couldn't survive a sliced femoral artery. Gabriel grinned despite himself. The thigh is about as high as Pip could reach anyway.

Pain lanced through him as the chuckle escaped his lungs.

"Mother-" he bit of the curse, knowing more speaking would only prolong the pain.

Again concentrating on the past, Gabriel tried to remember what had happened after he had given up his search for Pip.

He had heard the commotion from the casino and made his way there. What then? Combat? No, Gabriel knew he had not fought. What could have happened? Why was he trapped?

A light flickered in his memory and he wanted to laugh again.

He had found the casino surrounded and seen the men preparing an assault. With typical arrogance, he had thought that a move like that would be more costly than sending in one lone operative. Someone skilled who could get the drop on the Trogs.

So he had reached the casino and climbed up the exterior, searching for a way in on the second floor. He now thought he knew what had happened. Seeking to catch the Trogs by surprise, he had entered at the back. This meant he had not seen what the caravan crew was doing and if his recollection of heavy weapon training was accurate, he thought he now recognised the odd whistling noise he had heard before everything went dark.

A goddamn bazooka.

No wonder everything hurt. He had been blown clear and was fortunately high enough to not get caught in the blast.

But now he was stuck under debris with a possible concussion.

Fantastic. So much for one-man ops. A good point to remember from now on is to tell people he was going in alone. That way they won't blow him to hell. He wanted to blame the others but he knew that it was his own fault. He had taken the risk. He should have known what the caravan crew might do. Reed had demonstrated harsh judgement with anything that even looked like it might slow the caravan down.

So here he was. Trapped and injured. He considered calling out for help but his pride slammed the distress call back down his throat.

His eyelids began to droop and Gabriel suddenly realised how tired he was.

Maybe he should just rest for a minute. Just close his eyes and rest. He would like that. At least he wouldn't have to deal with the spook following him. Rest. Rest would be good.

His eyes snapped open as he realised what was happening.

Don't go to sleep, he commanded himself. Whatever happens he must stay awake. Gabriel knew if passed out, he might never wake up.

Again he tried to move his arms. It hurt like hell but at least his limbs obeyed the commands his brain sent to them. Gabriel forced his arms under his chest and pushed. At first it was futile and his arms dropped limply to the ground, exhausted. He stopped to breath but knowing he had to keep moving to stave off the effects of the concussion, he tried again.

With a massive effort, leaving his chest heaving for breath, Gabriel forced himself to his knees. Rubble and fallen masonry tumbled off his back and the assassin stumbled to his feet. He took a few unsteady steps before falling to his knees again. He shook his head and focused. Then he was up and walking, using his momentum to keep him going.

He had to find Ibis. The old man could help.

Gabriel stumbled along to he outline of the destroyed building, using rubble and what was left of the ground floor to support him. After half a minute of slow walking, his legs gave out. How could this be strenuous? He was one of the toughest men on the caravan. He couldn't be beaten by a fallen building. It was just rocks. He had faced bullets, knives, swords, and cannibals. He wasn't going to be killed by a fucking building.

He tried to stand and fell back. He could sense tears forming at the back of his eyes. A feeling he hadn't felt in more than a decade.

He was so weak. This couldn't be happening. He closed his eyes, ignoring the doom that spelt.

Gabriel heard the patter of small feet coming towards him and his hand moved to his belt, searching for a weapon but he had trouble lifting his eyelids.

This is it.

"Don't need to hurt me. Bad man dead. You lie. He not a hallucination. He fight and die."

Gabriel forced his eyes open with a great effort and saw Pip standing before him. Despite his condition, Gabriel could not help his automatic response.

"Sorry about this." his hand wrapped around a pistol grip and he drew the weapon.

"Wait. He's dead. It's over. I no tell." he moved forward and lifted a long sword with an ornate grip. The blade was concealed by the simple leather wrapped wooded sheath. Gabriel had seen them before. They were an excellent long blade, often used by Nightblades. Katanas were one of the finest swords ever made. Constructed with modern materials, they were incredible weapons, well nigh peerless. He realised what this meant. Pip had taken it from the spooks body. "This for you now. He no serve the Slayers anymore. You do." Pip smiled good-naturedly.

Gabriel didn't understand. A short time ago, he had promised to cripple and blind the little man. Soon after that, although Pip did not know, he had considered killing him anyway. Now he was giving him a peace offering.

Did he hope to buy his life with this weapon? It was beautiful. Gabriel, as a knifeman had taken the katana's shortest counterpart out from base with him. He carried a tanto, which he rarely used because he wanted it to last. Even the small knife, only seven inches long was a masterpiece but this long blade was perfection. A true swordsman's weapon.

"Why?" asked the assassin, thinking he already knew the answer.

"You no kill me before. You better than bad man. He cold killer. You know mercy. Makes you a better man."

But a worse Nightblade, thought Gabriel.

"But I-"

"You deserve good weapon. He didn't. You carry it and fight good."

Gabriel laughed. Despite the filth covering the little man. Despite his inarticulate speech, Gabriel thought he could see intelligence sparkling in his eyes and his good nature was attractive. Despite all the problems facing him, Gabriel found himself liking the little man.

"Help me up." he said quietly.

Pip quickly moved round behind Gabriel and supported his back and together they pushed off the rubble and began walking toward the rest of the caravan.

Gabriel clutched the katana tightly in one hand.

Pip was right. He may not have killed Caleb, but he was still a Slayer and he would put this Slayer blade to good use.

It was his duty. It was his life.
 
Ooph, he judged the Slayer right, he had become merciful, and he realised that he was still a Slayer.....or at least, that's what Pipboy thought.

For one moment, Pipboy thought that the Nightblade would do exactly what he hoped he wouldn't, for one moment, he thought he made a fatal mistake, luckily, he hadn't made a mistake, and he still had his life to prove that.

He heard the man next to him grunt, he was still hurt, and even though he looked calm and strong, he still required a bit of Pipboy's aid, luckily, it was already going better...

Approaching the rest of the caravan, Pipboy elt quite lucky, not because he had managed to survive the ordeal with the Slayer, but because he had managed to get to the dead Slayer, and get off him the stuff he needed before someone else could. Luckily, noone knew that he was a Slayer, and thus, noone knew of the special PIPboy he carried around. A PIPboy that was more than just an ordinary PIPboy, and few people knew of the modifications that were made by the Slayers, even most of the Slayers using the PIPboys didn't know about it. He felt in the pocket in his left sleeve to make sure it was still there, and it was....

Now, they had arrived at the caravan, he helped the Slayer walk to Ibis' place, figuring that that would be the place to leave the Slayer right now, Ibis might be able to help him.

"I leave you now, this where Ibis is. He help you. I need do things..." said Pipboy.

The Nightblade nodded, and Pipboy walked off, moving between the carts to somewhere where he could examine his new acquistion...

Arrivgin in one of the many places inbetween arts where the shadows and his clothes would hide him well, Pipboy sat down and took out his newly acquied Pipboy.

After examining it, he decided to open it, there was no other way to see what exactly had been done to it. Removing the screws that held it together he examined this marvel of technology, but he had seen it before and didn't stop too long to just look at the thing, he looked further for the modifications made to it. There, that was one, and there another one, aha! Right, sofar he had already seen the things he was looking for, the send and receive parts that were added later on to make communication with base easier, and the ID-card which was added to make sure that the right messages were received by the right people. Luckily, the people who made this never thought about securing that card too much, after all, who would have the required knowledge to know what it did? And, more importantly, who, besides a Slayer, could ever get his hands on it.

Pipboy laughed to himself, this was great!

He examined the ID-card and relayed two little cables, and that was it, that was all that was required to bypass the card and be able to receive any message sent by the Slayers if he was within range of their sending apparatus. This should prove very useful....

Now he looked at the sending device, the sending devce, he doubted he would ever need it, but it could be very useful for the other thing he had....wait....what's that?? Holy.....it was a tracker! That thing has been sending out signals out all along...oh that was NOT a good thing.....and the other Slayer, Gabriel, carried one of these as well. The Slayers knew exactly where they were.
Pipboy quickly cut off the power of the PIPboy, stopping the tracking device dead in it's tracks, this would alarm the Slayer base, and he didn't know what they would do if they came here. but he couldn't leave it on, it would mean they wouldkill him if they ever found him, he couldn't. But he needed the device...

He decided to short-out the part taht was causing him so much trouble, with sweat on his dirty forehead, he switched on the powersource, but he took out two wires, laying them on two parts of the sending device. *poof* He heard a small poof sound, and could smell a burning smell. But it seemed it had worked, the rest was still intact, it just didn't send anymore.

Having looked at all that, he knew he couldn't really do anything else about it, so he looked on. Looking at the decoding system put in place, it wasn't a real fancy one, but noone could decode it anyway. This was the wasteland, almost noone had access to any kind of equipment for that.

Now he put the Pipboy back together, after looking carefully for anything else that may be of use...

He put the Pipboy back where he had it, in the pocket inside his left sleeve. Well, at least he had a functioning Pipboy, besides, he would now know when the Slayers would send someone out here if they messaged using that system...

But he still held the sending system in his hand.

He pulled something that looked like a watch from one of the many pockets he had. Now this, this was something special, this was beautiful even. Just staring at it, Pipboy was happy. This thing, which he had picked up on one of the many caravans he had hid on, was beautiful. From what he could gather, the caravan he took this from had gone to some kind of pre-war building, abandoned, bombed, they'd lost many men venturing there, and the Radaways and rad-X's they carried came in handy a lot, but the few men who returned from there had brought a lot of useful stuff with them. And also a load of unknown stuff, this being one of those unknowns, the leader decided to hold onto it, for whatever reason. But now Pipboy had it. He looked on the back, it said "Property of the U.S. military." A bit beneath that, he could see Vault-Tec, this was made by the military and Vault-Tec together, this was a great find.

He opened the thing up, looking at the inner circuits, looking at the miracle of technology. He didn't understand everything, but he did know that one thing was broken, the transfer device. The device that made things being transferred, the data bein transferred, and this sending device had exactly what he needed to fix that. Going to work on it, he removed the broken pieces and replaced it with other things, there were quite some broken things there, but most were easily fixed, by replacing fuses or other things. But he needed the sending piece, that was essential. AFter finishing his gruelling work, he put it on his wrist. And he pressed the button saying "On/off". As soon as he did that, he could suddenly see the ground beneath his hand, but not just beyond his hand, he could almost see through his hand, all he could see where the vague contours of his hand, and some of the contours of his bones, but only vaguely. This was great.

Suddenly, it flickered, and his hand solidified again. Damnit! WHat is.......and suddenly he realised it must need power, and it must not have had much left. He'd need to find some kind of source of power for this thing. But who in this caravan carried any energy cells? He had some of his own, but that wasn't much, and he wanted to have something for energencies. He didn't want to get caught by one of those big Trogs, or caught in a box again without any way of getting out.

OOC: Wow, that should prove interesting. I did something with that PIPboy thing the slayers have tell me if you don't agree(especially Reaper...).
 
OCC- Ok, Sander, now we have an interesting story around Pipboy. Yes, since the Slayers send and receive messages through a modified Pipboy, this makes sense. That Slayer Pipboys have descramblers, they might also have trackers. Very nice additions.

Reaper- nice job bringing Gabriel back into our story.

ICC-

Grim watched as Gruug went back over to where Nat's wagon was waiting, its brahmin chewing on some grass that was growing up through the broken road way. Nearby Ibis and Nat were working on the wounded.

Buffy was still having trouble with her balance and Blade looked unconscious. The man with the flamer had brought his friend, who had carried the grease gun, to Ibis as well, and there were others.

"Don't worry Jim," Said Grim, "Ibis will check on the leg for ya."

Grim could also see the bodies of the dead being brought out.

Gruug was pacing back and forth, impatient. Grim couldn't hear what he was saying, but he kept muttering to the men around him. For their part, the men tried to give Gruug much distance. Gruug, for all his heroism, was not fitting in. Worse, he wasn't developing comradery with the others.

It was doubtful that Gruug had taken any part of the killings. From Grim could recollect, Gruug had been in at Pope's for too long. Besides, the men hadn't been killed violently, but by deception. And Gruug seemed to lack the skill for such finesse.

Still, Grimm was worried about Gruug. The big creature wasn't making friends. Rather it's bravado had a way that just annoyed people. Worse, he got people in danger.

Sure Gruug had been responsible for killing more than a fair share of Trogs, but he had also gotten himself wounded. His wounds had forced the badly depleted squad to get pinned down in a very dangerous area where they could easily have been overwhelmed.

Talon's small squad had gone in merely to draw the Trogs out of the town and into the open where the monsters could have been killed from a distance. Instead, Gruug had gotten himself wounded in hand-to-hand fighting. Talon had taken the risk of holding his position until help had arrived. A few more Trogs and they would have been slaughtered.

It wasn't all his fault. Sure he had saved Buffy, but had taken it on by himself, when Gabriel could have helped, and the others could have lent a hand.

This knack for taking on the world by oneself was dangerous. It was as if Gruug wanted to prove something to everyone, or wasn't comfortable unless he was the center of attention.

But survival meant team work. It meant cooperation and trust. The others were not sure if they could trust Gruug, if Gruug would cooperate, or if the big mutant wouldn't get them into more trouble. Without that trust and cooperation, it was possible that no one would watch the creatures back when he really needed it.

Grim carried Jim to where Ibis had set up his aid station and set him down gently "You'll be ok. Just stay off your feet for awhile." Said Grim, feeling the ache in his own side from when he had been thrown.

"I can go with you." Insisted Jim.

"No, your leg needs a rest. Besides, we need you to run Nat's wagon and watch over the others."

But Grim was thinking about his injuries. The throw should have caused more severe injuries. The aches should have been more acute. But they weren't.

Ibis looked up at him. "How about you?"

"I'm ok. Just got banged around a bit." Said Grim. "One of them damn things threw me, near across the room."

"Let me look." Said Ibis.

Grim took off his leather jacket and lifted up his shirt. His pale, bluish skin showed red bruises from where he had been hit and there were similar bruises from where he had landed. Ibis touched the skin carefully, asking Grim if there was any pain. But there was only a dull ache, as if the senses were numb.

Grim was also much thinner. Almost skin and bones.

"When was the last time you'd eaten?" Asked Ibis.

"Been awhile." Said Grim.

Ibis looked over at the bodies of the dead, then back at Grim. "You need to eat."

Grim turned away, and saw Gabriel being brought in by Pip boy, the long curved sword he had seen earlier in Gabriel's hands. Pip boy helped Gabriel down and then walked away.

"Where've you been?" Asked Grim.

"Getting blown up. Apparently." Replied Gabriel. "Would be worse except for this fellow."

"Seems like you found Pipboy." Said Grim. But Pipboy had already dissappeared. "You ok."

"I'll be fine. just that damn building came down on me." Said Gabriel.

"That's what happens when you go off on your own without telling anyone son." Said Grim. "Look, I need to go after the Trog that got away. Can you come with?"

"In this shape, I'll probably slow you down. But I can follow after you." Said Gabriel, who had already closed his eyes.

"You do that." But Gabriel had fallen unconscious. Nat had come over and was washing away his cuts and bruises.

Ibis, was washing his hands from one wounded and about to work on Blade, but first he turned to Grim. "Lucas. You ain't no good to anyone if you die. Not this caravan, not Caleb, not your friends, not your daughter. You got to eat."

"I'll manage."

"If you're going after the Trogs, better take Cerebus along. He's got a better nose for prey then the rest of these caravan mutts."

Grim nodded.

Ibis whistled to his big dog and told it to go with Grim. Grim whisteled the dog over, and together they went off to find Syphon and Rogue.

To the South of town the herd was already moving around, and most of the carts had already passed. McReady was somewhere ahead, with Thing two and Thing One, providing scouting.

Hook was looking over the damage, and with a squad of men, was guarding the caravan's passage. Talon was standing nearby.

Grim headed in that direction. "I'm taking Rogue with me. She's got a good eye and I could use a sniper if I want to bring that thing down."

Hook nodded. "Better take Talon too. His 20 mm assault rifle has got better stopping power that that assault rifle you got."

"If you don't mind I was going to trade this back in for a sniper."
Said Grim.

"Done. How about the wounded?" Said Hook.

"Nothing too critical from what I could see. Ibis has got them pretty good, and Nat's helping. But they would give you a better idea what the wounded are like then I."

Hook nodded. "I'll do that." Then he peered through his binoculars to the Northeast, in the direction the Trog had run.
"Right. Now that Trog supposedly is running to the Northeast. He'll run for another hour, then need to rest, I reckon. So figure he's got an hour or two ahead. We'll be moving East. If he's gone to gather more, they will have to turn South for us. We'll probably be camping a couple of clicks East tonight. I figure Reed will have us go after dark until he can't see. The next stop is further along the road at a water hole. You stay on your prey for the day, but tag him before dark. After dark, he may turn around and get too damn close. But I want to see you back in camp by tomorrow night. And we won't send a search committee for ya if you get lost. Ya hear? I can spare Rogue and Talon, one more adn that dog. But that's it."

"Got it." Said Grim.

Talon checked his clip and reloaded while Grim prepared a sniper's rifle and reloaded his side arms. When they were ready they went in search of Rogue and Syphon.

Behind, Ibis began to remove the armor and clothing from around the shoulder. The shoulder had been badly hit, but it didn't seem to show signs of infection. This was lucky, for the Trogs were known to dip their melee weapons in the excrement of giant rats before battle. The feces could cause infection on open wounds.

But then Ibis noticed something else. Fleas. Blade had been scratching at flea bites and there were many small bites along his arms.

This sparked an earlier worry. The man had been wounded in the legs a few nights before, during the fight with with the moonfrogs. Somehow he had fallen into or was dragged into one of the prairie dog tunnels and had gone after what he thought was a store of weapons. Instead he had found the bodies of dead prairie dogs, and then had been bitten by fleas.

There was a chance of disease.

Ibis checked the legs.

There, on the calves, on the thighs, large blacken, swollen lymph glands. Boboes.

Yersinia Pestis.

The Black Plague.

By this time Hook had come over to ask about the wounded.

Ibis looked up at him, then turned to Nat. "Cover him up, and give him a shot of antibiotic. In fact, give everyone a shot of antibiotic, including yourself."

"But I...." Started Nat.

"Just do it." Insisted Ibis. Then turning to Hook he said. "We need to talk. Privately."

Hook shrugged and followed Ibis into one of the buildings nearby, where they might not be overheard.
 
"Black Plague." whispered Hook. "Crooked Christ save us."

Much that was pre-war had been forgotten by the survivors. History is often a luxury that is rarely endulged in the struggle to survive. But mankind can keenly remember its past monsters, those curses that had come near to wipe out the species. If not for the millions the virus had killed throughout Europe centuries before, than for the millions more it took when its mutated offspring were released after the bombs had fallen.

'I have no idea how many are infected by now, but I am guessing it caught us back before we reached Pope's." Said Ibis, gazing out at the carts that were passing.

Every once and awhile a man stopped, to scratch

Without the luxury of clean water, and in the barren expanses of the wastes, man had grown accustomed to sharing his body with insects, especially fleas. Most would scratch a flea with little notice. It was habit, nothing more.

"We should leave Blade behind then. If he's spreading it." Said Hook.

"He's not spreading it. Just the first victim. You can bet we will have more sick in a few days." Said Ibis.

"How can you be so sure?" Asked Hook.

"I can't. Not really. But everyone traveled past that prairie dog warren, and it was infested with fleas. Near everybody's probably been bitten." Replied Ibis.

That had been little over two days ago. Time enough for the virus to spread, time enough for the first symptoms to show.

"I want you to keep that man secluded. If word gets out, then the whole damn caravan will panic. Fuck, it will be a mess." Said Hook.

"What about Reed?" Asked Ibis.

"Yea, what about him?" Said Hook, but offering little more. "Look, what about the others? What can we do?"

"We can try giving everyone doses of antibotics, but we don't have that much to spare. Besides, I don't think it will make much difference in the long run. You need special drugs for Yersinia Pestis, and I don't think we are carrying."

"Reed would know. He's got the invoice tight even if he ain't sharing it." Said Hook.

"If he's got antibotics that can treat this, and if we don't than Reed's caravan is going to die before it gets close." Said Ibis. "In the meantime I can draw blood on Blade and maybe see if there is anything I can do."

"You do that. Cause if Reed doesn't have the drugs we need, damn if I know where we going to find any." Said Hook. "We are on the move now. I'm going to send a man back to check with Pope, see what he knows. We'll need to palaver about this with McReady and Reed, tonight. In the meantime, do what you can."

Ibis nodded, and went back to his aid station, where Nat was busy injecting the men with stimulants and antibotics.

Hook watched him for a moment, then swore under his breath. He'd have to talk to Reed about this and he was pretty sure there were none of the needed drugs among the carts.

You do what you can.

"Gruug," Yelled Hook, "Light up any Gruugs around here. They might be dead, but you can't be too sure. Burn 'em up and keep an eye out for Rats."

Then Hook left the building and merged with the caravan.

_________________

Grim and Talon walked around the big burned casino and came up the hill towards were Rogue and Syphon were standing. Cerebus sniffed the ground ahead, and kept looking in the direction in which the remaining Trog had run.

Both Rogue and Syphon were standing over one of the Trogs. Syphon had retreaved a piece of burning wood from the casino and touched the Trog's body. The body quickly caught fire as if it were sitting on a funeral pyre.

"Ya got one." Said Talon.

Rogue nodded. "Damn thing ate enough rounds."

"Take a licking but keep tickin." Said Syphon.

"How you two holding up?" Asked Grim.

Rogue looked over at Syphon. "We got it covered. What's up?"

"We are to go get the other one." Said Talon.

The two snipers looked away, not terribly excited about the prospect.

"Ain't we killed enough Trogs for one day?" Asked Syphon. One had nearly caught up to him, and but for Rogue's shooting, it would have surely killed him. He had redeemed himself with this other, but there was no desire to continue hunting the creatures. Now, he preferred to be left alone.

"Killed plenty, but the one that got away might be going back to its pack. We could have a whole damn colony of the creatures on us." Said Talon.

"I thought they only attacked in groups of 4-9, like family clans." Said Rogue.

"That's true when they hunt, but when they develop colonies, it could be many families." Said Talon.

"So we got to put the brakes on this last one or it might bring down the whole damn colony on the caravan." Added Grim. "Hook told me to bring two more in addition to Talon. Talon here has got the armor so he can fight in close if he has to, but I'd prefer to do this from distance. That means snipers, meaning you."

Syphon opened his mouth to refuse, but before he could speak Rogue smiled and said, "That what are we waiting for. Let's bag us a Trog."

"Alright then." Said Grim, then he called over to the big three headed dog. "Cerebus, go find us a Trog."

The small company picked up the trail easily and followed it northeast, to a low rise of broken ground. Behind them the caravan disappeared to the East.
 
IC-

A lone figure crept through the hills. He didn’t know it, but he is following the same path of the Nightblade assassin sent to kill his uncle. He moved alone, bowlegged like a sailor, and his movements are undetected because he is a Blade and his heart is pure.

Repeated guerrilla hits and months spent at Grey Cliffs have taught him the life of a highlander. The hills are his homes, when campsites built in the deserts normally served. His footsteps are confident and he has learned to angle his boots to skid down steep hillsides rather than tumble off them.

It would be a difficult task to spot the single Blade in the midst of hills and shrubbery. With a ghillie suit constructed from the surveying landscape, he blended in as well as a chameleon. Strips of brown cloth covered the metallic sheen of the M1 Garand rifle slung over his shoulder.

He glided through the hills alone. As the most experienced tracker, he stood the best chance by himself. His name was Kino, nephew of Dante. He was the most decorated Blade in the Grey Cliffs campaign and his experience would serve him in his next mission.

Kino moved quickly, despite his need for concealment. The wind was blowing and that was a good thing. As he ran, the twigs and leaves in his ghillie suit waved. A cursory glance at the running Blade would only show a waving shrub or bush. His steps were surefooted and tumbling rocks did not give him away.

He moved faster without the guerrillas slowing him down. A sole Blade, whose only responsibility was himself, had more autonomy than a group of Blades. Instead of relying on his brothers, he placed his trust in Mother Nature as a guide.

Listening to the sounds of critters, he knew when to act and move. The solitary sounds of his own footsteps could not overlap the screeches and scattering of wild life in the hills. The Tome of Bestiary taught him how to use the shrillers to his advantage. He knew that when the shrillers howled, men were about. And men who would give themselves away to mere shrillers were not trained Blades.

Kino ran with his rifle taped down. If he came into trouble, the closed razor would suffice. His steel-toed boots thundered on the rocky hills and a harsh kick would deliver bone-cracking effects. He had his god given skills in pugilism and the clarity of senses from adrenaline. Even more, his heart was pure and he would not fail.

The veteran Blade ran the falling sun into midnight. The night sky was blessedly empty of moonlight or starlight. Either would give his position away. The cover of nightfall was appropriate for what he must do.

Kino ran, eating and pissing as he did so. Each footfall meant one step farther away from Grey Cliffs but one step closer to completion of his mission. His expanded irises adjusted to the night. He had gleaned the secret of dimness in the Tome of Stealth. He watched the likely hiding spots of his enemy from the corner of his eye, were the rods and cones were most focused.

The hills gave away to the deserts, relinquishing cover for a new stark domain. Here, Kino stripped off his ghillie suit. He unslung the Garand, wrapping its sling around his non-firing hand. The tan, khaki of his clothes and the wood of his rifle merged into the bleakness of the desert.

The danger escalated. The hills of Grey Cliffs were risky because they may have contained enemies. But here, Kino knew that his enemies were definitely in the desert. He could discard caution now; he did not have to fear of being captured because at this point, he would be killed. He entered the territory of his foes and knew that he could only survive by killing.

The Blade warrior pressed his boots into the sand and paused. He extended one hand in front of him, splaying it like a divining rod. Kino felt the fey premonitions of where he was and, more importantly, where his enemy was. He smelled cordite, the familiar sign of a war party. Danger wafted in the air.

Kino moved as quickly as he could in the desert. He ran, ignoring the shaky voice of self-preservation. Without taking cover, he paved the quickest course of where he wanted to go. The camp came closer.

Already, he recognized the signs. The night fires of a large camp burned like a hellish beacon, a hexagonal portal of satanic summoning depicted in the Tome of Astral. The ground he walked was smooth and packed, evidence of a major migration of wagons and men moving. His path was littered with the blatant road signs of brahmin shit.

The ground dipped into a deathly valley. The blazing fires emitted below and tendrils of smoke curled in the sky. There, undoubtedly, the camp.

Kino stood but half a mile away. He knew that he had no chance of getting any closer. Still, it was enough to accomplish his mission. The perimeter of the canyon’s girth was more than a mile. Preliminary scouts would be scattered about.

It was time he started the mission. He skirted the area of the canyon until he found a lone figure smoking in the darkness. A scout.

The Blade advanced on the smoking scout, ready to do what was needed. He walked purposely and deliberately. The scout turned, startled. He pitched the cigarette to the ground, grabbing for his pistol.

“Who’s there?” asked the silhouette of the scout. He was close enough to catch the general direction of Kino but little more.

Kino unlimbered the Garand with one hand. He pointed the rifle at the scout who jumped in surprise. The Blade shot him before he could fire the pistol and the scout went down.

The camp far below ignored what had just happened. The gunshot and screams of the scout went unheard. The muzzle flash and spray of blood went unseen.

Kino shouldered the rifle as he walked up to the lying scout. He took out the old-fashioned shaving razor and shook the narrow blade free. The scout, still alive, sat up with a groan at the advancing shadow.

The Blade came closer and heard a radio’s static frequency. The scout was trying to call for backup. Without a word, he ran up the last distance and kicked the radio out of the scout’s hand. It clattered a foot away and the scout cried.

Kino saw his handiwork up close. The scout was gripping his kneecap, which was shot through. The femur had fragmented under the pressure of an unsupported body collapsing on top of it and the entire left leg was cracked at several sections. The pistol sat forgotten in the scout’s holster.

The Blade knelt close the dying man and aimed a horizontal slash towards the jugular. The scout, fueled by a desperate burst of adrenaline, brought his hand up to protect his neck. Kino’s razor sliced through three fingers and severed the ligament of another finger. The tip of the blade nicked the scout’s neck and a dollop of crimson burst through the wound.

“I tried to make it easy,” whispered Kino as he sat up. He shook the razor, spraying blood off its tip. “Remember that as you die.” And with that, the Blade veteran slashed scout from midsection to crotch, disemboweling him. The scout immediately thrashed in spasms, despite of the severity of his wounds, and his intestines flopped free. Kino crushed the radio next to the scout before leaving the man to die a slow death.

The Blade had to work quickly. He did not know if this one scout had radioed in for backup. He did not know how many other scouts awaited him. All he knew was that his heart was pure.


The following morning, Tom Caine and Leon Voyarsky climbed up the valley. They were mercenaries hired by the League to train slaver and raider recruits. But since most of the slaver and raider ranks had been decimated, the two veteran mercenaries had very little to do and very little reason to get paid.

“I can’t believe we’ve been reduced to grunt work,” muttered Leon as they both ascended the valley.

Tom ignored his comrade’s mutterings, concentrating on the rocks in front of him. “Man’s gotta get paid, Leon,” he remarked softly. The FN FAL on his back was being a real bitch for climbing work.

“Man’s got his dignity, too,” growled Leon.

Tom waited for them to both get to the top of the valley before saying, “Dignity’s nothing if you can’t eat.” He took the FAL off his back. “Let’s go.”

Leon followed him disgruntled, not bothering to take off his own FAL. He kicked a rock in his path with violent fervor. “Three thousand men,” he muttered under his breath.

Tom glanced wearily at Leon. He wanted this task to be over with so he could get back to his tent. The heat of the desert was murder. “What’d you say?”

Leon glowered at the ground as the two mercenaries moved out. “Three thousand slavers and raiders we’ve trained. Some of ‘em got killed in Tabis. Some are scattered to God knows where. But we’ve still got at least five hundred men down at the camp.”

“And your point is?”

Leon glared at his comrade. “My point is that the League’s fucked up. They’ll send season men for grunt work instead of a camp of green soldiers who need the experience.”

Tom sighed wearily. “All eighteen of our scouts failed to report in last night. That’s more than a coincidence. Maybe the League wants to send people who can handle themselves.”

“Or maybe they only want to risk hired help,” added Leon grimly.

“However way you see it. Now shaddap and follow me.” Tom rested the FAL on his shoulder. “I want to find those scouts before sundown.”

It turned out that they would find the scouts long before sundown. Five minutes later, a few yards away from the incline of the valley lay a pile of bodies. All eighteen scouts were lined up in three columns of six. All eighteen scouts, besides showing signs of a crippling gunshot wound, were disemboweled from sternum to crotch. The carrion birds were already feasting.

“Gawddam!” exclaimed Leon, dropping his FAL to the ground and rushing closer. Tom lowered his own rifle, staring at the gruesome sight from a safe distance.

Tom watched Leon lean over close the bodie. “What the hell is this?” his comrade shouted outloud.

“It’s a sign,” Tom said with certainty. “Someone is saying don’t fuck with me. He’s proving that he get to us anytime he wants.”

“No,” said Leon, standing up. He turned to Tom and in his hand was a razor. Attached to the hilt of the razor was some sort of bandanna mask.

Tom took but one look at the mask and knife. It was not a coincidence.

“It’s a Blade,” said the mercenary.
 
Reed was not happy with what Hook had to say. "What the fuck do you think this is, a hospital? We didn't carry any more than we usually do. Jesus fucking crooked christ, this trip is turning into one cluster fuck after the other."

"Keep your voice down." Said Hook, his voice low but ominious.

Reed was the boss here, and technically Hook worked for him. But in times of emergency, the caravan boss might not be capable of making the important decisions, might not be capable of acting appropriately. The Borderpatrol, which normally escorted caravans and provided more extensive security through its network of outposts and patrols, was not in the business of replacing caravan bosses. It wasn't good business.

But occassionally desperate times called for desperate measures.

Reed looked around at the other men. They had made good time since the ghost town, and had made camp before dusk. The men were gathered around cooking fires or unhitching wagons, or just plain gossiping. He could hear the gentle mooing of the brahma herd that was grazing to the south.

Not all the carts had come in. Nat and Ibis were still somewhere behind. In the need to make camp site the wagon train had become unusually spread out, and stragglers were slowly coming in. McReady had sent his two tribals to make sure the rest came in, while he spoke with Reed and Hook.

Reed lowered his voice. "Do you realize what this could do? If the entire caravan crew falls this cargo never makes it to Grey Cliffs."

McReady had been quiet, listening, trying to think of places for supplies that were in easy reach. The older man kept his thoughts to himself, chewing on his root as he mulled over their circumstances. Hook had been wise to send men back to Pope's but there was little hope that the way-station kept such specific supplies. But Reed's urgency raised his curiousity.

"What's so important about Grey Cliffs?" Asked McReady.

Hook held his question, waiting for Reed.

Reed looked at them both. "That's confidential, you know that. YOu ain't paid to know our business."

"But if you want us to die for your business than you better come clean." Said McReady.

"Come on Reed. Time to talk. What's so important that you are willing to risk your own life for this caravan? It's just fucking goods and it's not like you owe Red Eye your life." Asked Hook.

Reed knew he would have to tell sooner or later. "Supplies. For Blades. There's a Blade encampment at Grey Cliffs. They gave us a shipment and we were suppose to provide carriage, they were supposed to provide escort. But the Blades all got killed before we even got going."

"So the contract's dead." Said Hook.

Reed shook his head. "No, we're dead if we don't deliver. I don't know what's so damn important at Grey Cliffs, but I know what kinds of weapons we're carrying here. And damn it I know how important the Blades felt about this trip. They paid top dollar, with a bullet."

The Blades would pay, but a cargo so important was only lost at great personal risk to the carrier. That was the insurance of delivery, and neither Hook nor McReady had doubts that the Blades would carry through.

"Medical supplies too?" Asked Hook.

"Yea, some. Plasma, bandages, doctor and med kits, stims too. Some antibotic, but I don't know if anything that will respond to Black fucking Plague." Said Reed.

McReady shook his head. "And I don't know were we can find some along this here route either. We got a couple of weeks yet to Grey Cliffs, and there is a fine rest stop not a few days East, but they ain't likely to be carrying med supplies. "

"So how long do we got?" Asked Reed.

Hook looked at them both. "According to Ibis, not long. First symtoms will start showing today, tomorrow, the next day. The men will start to seem fatigued, tired, high fevers. As long as it stays Bubonic it won't be so bad. If it goes pneumonic, meaning through the lungs, it will spread faster. "

"Answer the fucking question, Hook." Demanded Reed.

"A week, at most, and then the men will start to die off." Said Hook.

Reed looked at McReady, "Red, I reckon its time for you to do what you were hired to. If you don't come up with something in a week, we'll mostly be dead or dieing.

_____________

Further back. Ibis watched over Blade in the back of the cart while Buffy drove the cart.

"Is he going to die?" Asked Buffy.

"He might." Responded Ibis.

"Damn. I hardly knew him. Just got a little crazy a couple nights back, ya know." Said Buffy, who seemed more willing to speak then really to converse.

"You've been intimate."

"Well ya, I slept with him once. But damn, he's got fleas."

Blade had come out of his unconciousness, but looked fatigued and tired. He was sweating badly and occassionally would shiver with chills.

"How're you feeling?" Asked Ibis.

"Like shit. My heads aching and damn, feel like all the energy is out of me." Said Blade.

"Rest. Try to sleep. You'll need it."

"Can you give me anything? I feel like shit." complained Blade.

"I've given you tetracyclines and chloramphenicol, but I am not sure if we have enough. I can also give you pain killers."

"Am I going to die?" Asked Blade.

Ibis didn't give an answer.
 
The tracks were easy to follow across the dry sands of the wastes. The creature had run without any desire to hide its trail, its deep imprints on the dry sand were clearly visible. It had left at a good pace however, giving it a substantial lead.

The four trackers and the dog pursued but didn't hurry. The Trog would eventually slow down. They moved quickly but cautiously, concerned that the creature might lay a trap for them, hiding under the sands and then being among them. Recent experience had taught them a valuable lessons. Trogs were lethal up close, better to drop them from a distance.

The hours of day light passed slowly as shadows stretched across the sand. The followed for nearly five hours, through high acid resistant grasses, across flat plains of salt. They pulled their clothes around them, covering they mouths as the wind picked up, pelting them with hard sand.

On the third hour they could see it. As the sun was setting the creature was in range, clearing heading towards some distant grey hills.

Syphon, whose rifle had the superior range, dropped back, went proned, set the bipod and took careful slow aim as the others moved closer.

His rifle sounded like a cannon. The shot carefully aimed, piercing the creature's leg with a crippling blow.

The creature collapsed into a sand embankment it had been trying to climb. It tried to get up, and collapsed. Then it began to struggle to crawl over the embankment, dragging its crippled leg behind.

As the others neared, Syphon fired twice more tearing large holes into the creature, stopping its movement.

When Grim and Rogue were in range, they stopped and began to fire repeatedly at the monster as Talon and Cerebus got even closer. Talon was able to discharge one burst from his weapon, and then all stopped firing as Cerebus closed in for the final kill.

The creature was still alive when the big dog's mouth closed on its throat, killing its final desperate roar.

They regrouped around the big creature, as Cerebus finally let go the lifeless body.

"Burn it. Just to be sure." Said Grim.

Talon retreived a bottle of lighter fluid he had brought with him and splashed it against the body. Then using a dry match he lit it aflame.

They stepped back and watched it burn as the sun dropped behind the horizon.

"Good thing we caught up to it when we did." Said Syphon.

"Ya, I would hate to tangle with it at night." Said Talon. "Even if we outnumber it."

Rogue looked up at the darkening skies. "Lots of moonlight though. We could still have bagged it."

She looked at the creature they had slaughtered. It had never really had a chance at all.

Grim was looking out North. Towards some distant hills.

"What? You see more?" Said Rogue.

"Listen." Said Grim.

The others didn't speak, but tried to hear what Grim was listening too. Finally Talon said. "I don't hear nothin."

"Best we go South and keep an eye to our rear. We should go quick." Said Grim, who began jogginh in that direction.

The other three watched him leave, and then started to follow.

"Grim. What gives?"" Asked Rogue, hurrying to catch up.

"I hear them. They are roaring up there, to the North and I don't want to be here if they come down from those hills."

OOC- There is a section on Marcus coming up. But I want Gabriel to be there. Reaper, if Gabriel has attempted to follow the group, they should reconnect. Otherwise Gabriel might run into a Trog war party.
 
Gruug was quite out of it, travelling in a deeper sleep on the back of Nat's cart. which would of lifted it vertically up if the wheels hadn't been there and Gruug had not put weights on the front.
Slowly, Gruug awoke. When he was totally awake he quietly called Nat's name.
"I'm here." She replied.
"How further to tha camp?" Gruug asked.
"Well, I'd say about 5 to 10 mins. I can see some lights up ahead."
She replied.
Gruug said ok and then got off of the cart, and started to push it forward, giving the brahman a bit more ease, even though it hurt his shoulder quite a bit, and definatly his stomache hurt. Gruug got out his third last poison cure, and injected it into one of the many veins that pop out of his arm. He slowed down for a minute or so to let the anti poison take effect. He did not want to take any chances. Ahhh, the familiar effect of anti poison. He guessed the Trog he had tassled with had dipped it's melee weapons in poison, or even rat dung. But he doubted rat dung, as he did not feel any signs of infection, just poison. But who was he trying to kid, not as if poison was not bad enough.
"Usually, up north, we hardly ever got poisoned, almost totally immune ta poison there, must be different poison those Trog bastards dip 'er weaps into." Gruug exclamed.
Nat just said "Uh huh" and nodded. Then she said "Look ahead, we're pretty close to camp."
And she was right.


As the cart pulled in, Gruug clipped on his night vision goggle, thinking it would be fully charged by now. Suddenly he saw a different world, if, only through one eye, but it was better. It was busy as well, very busy. Mostly around Ibis's cart. A 2 guards came up.
"Just bring the cart a bit more forward... Easy... Easy... There, stop." And Nat stopped the brahman. The other Guard unhooked the brahman and took it away, most likely to graze with the other brahman. The guard held up a torch and gulped when he saw Gruug, as they most likely had not gotten use to the big mutant yet. Gruug nodded and saw as the guard gazed over the healing scabs from the Trog.
"Got into a little tissy with a Trog, up close and personal." Gruug Said. The Guard nodded.
"You two will need to go to Ibis for some damn checkup." He pointed where Ibis was, and Nat thanked him.


As they walked, Gruug could see she was staring at his N.V.G.
"Night vision goggle, uses even the tiniest bit of light, as even when it is pitch black there is a little bit of light, and absorbs the light and portrays everything in a greenish haze, essentially letting you see in the dark. Or, atleast that's what is reads in the handbook, or manual as some would call it." Gruug said and laughed. Nat laughed too.
"So, can you see all around the camp?" Nat inquired.
"Well, everywhere apart from directly at the fires, as that is way too much light, and my vision goes all white." Answered Gruug.
"Ah well, we're here." Said Gruug quietly.


They waited in a smallish line, that got only slightly bigger as the rest of the stragglers arrived. And then it was Nat's turn.
"Oh, you don't need to worry about this checkup thingy Nat, I allready did the checkup with you. But you, mutant, sit down on the ground so I can reach you." Said Ibis. Gruug did as he was told. But even sitting on the ground, he was taller than Ibis. Ibis checked him, asked how he was doing, which Gruug said "I'm okay, apart from going toe to toe with that Trog. Must of dipped it's knives in poison, because I used one of my last anti poisons, which ate some poison, so to speak." "Feel like your strength is ebbing? Are you sweating alot? Having headaches? Feeling sick in the stomache?" Asked Ibis.
"Well, my strength has ebbed a bit, from the trog and all. I slept a bit on Nat's cart, not really sweating alot, and no headaches. My stomache is just fine as well, no sickness or pain there." Replied Gruug. "Okay then, come back to me if you feel any of those symptons, okay?" Asked Ibis as he scribbled something down on a scrap of paper.
"Will do." Replied Gruug, and with that, he walked off.
 
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