IC- Chapter Three: Lone Wanderers

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OOC- Nice to see you back Smar. Good post too. Glad you are moving the story along.

ICC- Ibis had little in the way of medical tools or instruments. Some he had collected from Wally back at Tabis, others he had modified from the funeral business. But once his examinations were over, he set to work on examining Blade's blood from the samples he had drawn earlier.

The examination of the others at camp had produced unclear results. So far, there were no other cases of people showing the buboes that Blade had. Some of the caravaners complained of head aches and exhaustion, but it had been a hard day. Sweating, tiredness could all relate to strain. But there was a lot of itching, and a lot of fleas.

As long as the plague remained bubonic they had a better chance. But the virus, once it became active, would travel through the blood system and eventually find its way into the lungs. There the virus would take on the more dangerous pneumonic variant. Whereas the bubonic would travel through the bite of a flea, the pneumonic would travel in the spittle and mucus of a cough, like a cold spreading among the men.

Blade was in seclusion and hopefully the antibotics he had given the wounded soldier would delay the virus from becoming pneumonic. But Ibis was quite sure that if Blade had the virus, others had it too.

But so far there seemed to be little concern about the camp. Hook and Reed had insisted that there be no talking. Talk of plague would have spread panic like fire.

Ibis was especially worried about those that had fought the prairie dogs or had been close to Blade.

If only Wally were here. The ghoul was a genius of medical knowledge. But the old ghoul was back in Tabis.

Ibis yawned as he got to work. The night was young yet, but the day had been exhausting.

But first he had to compare blood samples and run some tests. Returning to a tent near his cart, Ibis set to work utilizing the rudimentary tools he had. It would be a long night, but Hook and Reed were demanding information. Indeed, at this point, everyone was relying on Ibis for answers.

His blood samples on Blade revealed what he knew. Bubonic Plague.

Then he compared it to his own blood. Having been close to the wounded and out in the fields during the fight with the moon frogs and prairie dogs he expected to find traces of bubonic plague in his blood. But no.

Then he compared it the Gruug. Gruug had been out in the fields and had actually come into contact with a Prairie dog. Furthermore, his inspection of the mutant revealed that he had been affected by fleas.

Again, nothing.

Grim was not present, nor were Gabriel, Rogue, Talon or Syphon. They would have to be checked on when they returned.

Ibis next checked Buffy. She had been out there that night and had intimate contact with Blade.

Yes, there were traces, but the traces were much weaker. From what he could tell Buffy's antibodies were fighting the virus.

He next ran checks on Jim and Nat. Again, there were traces. Jim was worse than Buffy, but the body was responding effectively. What suprised him was Nat. Over the past few days Nat had been in contact with many of the men, either intimately or as Ibis's assistant. Indeed there were traces, but very faint.

Why did the blood tests reveal different results?

Ibis returned to his own and Gruug's blood. After a series of tests he made an interesting discovery. Both his own and Gruug's blood contained higher traces of FEV than the others. The FEV seemed to be fighting the Yersinia Pestis virus within the blood cultures he had drawn.

The greater the exposure to FEV the less likely to be infected by FEV. That would make sense. Blade's blood had been the least contaminated while Gruug was a creature of FEV. Ibis's unusual condition, and that of Grim, also involved significant exposure to FEV.

But then what about Nat and Jim? Or the others? Most people had been exposed to some traces of FEV virus that had been passed down by generations. It was therefore possible that FEV exposure affected the bodies reaction.

Jim and Nat? He had given them both antibotic injections shortly after they had joined the group. It was possible that those initial doses had allowed their bodies to combat the virus at its earlier stages. Buffy's body was fighting the virus based on its own prior exposure to FEV.

Ibis stretched. He had been up too long and was exhausted now. He sat down on his night roll and then rested his head on a makeshift pillow. So tired. And getting so old.

A long trip. Yet he could feel that perhaps the trip was reaching its end soon.

Have to speak to Grim about this condition, though.

He closed his eyes to rest, thinking about the next tests. He would have to check the animals. The brahmin were essential for the trip. If they had the virus, Reed would have to know. But based on his findings he expected that the brahmin to have little exposure. The dogs, well that was a different matter.

Tomorrow, much to do, tomorrow, he thought.

Then he thought about his children, and his wife.

And quickly he fell into a deep slumber.

OOC- Ok Gunslinger, does that help?
 
Pipboy watched the old man, sleeping, perhaps dreaming about what was to come next.

The plague...

Trouble, yes, a lot of trouble would this cause. No telling who would and wouldn't be infected, you couldn't tell until they fell sick, and then it would be too late. Too late to avoid exposure, perhaps too late to help them.

Pipboy thought about what he should do, he could leave the group, but he'd be in the middle of nowhere, with no ways of surviving, and it wouldn't help one bit if he had been infected already. He couldn't tell, no equipment, no nothing to be able to tell. There was little chance he had the virus, he hadn't been in contact with that sick man, nor in contact with anything he thought could have it. But maybe that Blade had carried the fleas, or maybe it had already gotten to the point of pneumonia, maybe he ad already gotten it that way. He couldn't tell. Maybe the old man could, maybe he should wake him....maybe....maybe not.

He thought about all of his options, he could stay with them, hoping they'd somehow get past it. He could go away, and possibly die of the plague anyway, or die in the wasteland. Neither of those options sounded too good. Bah, he had to...he had to help this caravan. Help them battle it, or he'd go down himself. Hrmph.

He thought of the old books he'd read, the books about the plague a long time ago, and books about the plague just before the war. He thought of the pre-war stuff he had gotten his hands on. He knew...he knew that staying clean, washing regularly and such would help. But in his case...there was no way to tell. It could work problematically, it could shed his body of the crust of filth he'd gathered, wat most didn'tknw, was that a crust of filth was filthy, but it could also protect you from disease, and other things. Besides, washing would be difficult here.

He tried to remember, about the things, what was speculated. The New Plague,was it...wait..yes! He remembered, something about the old military, doing tests, with that...vault-tec...creating something. It was all theory..but maybe. If they could find a pre-war base or something of the kind, they'd ben developing a cure, maybe something as left.
He'd have to tell the old man....
 
Gabriel stumbled over a rock and cursed. He felt pretty much recovered but his vision had blurred twice since he left the caravan to follow Grim. The first time he had fallen in the dirt, much to his surprise and embarrasment.

"Come on. Walking isn't the hardest activity in the world." he told himself. Steadying himself, Gabriel pushed on at a jog. With the sun down, he could see unimpaired by his goggles and the moonlight was enough that everything was clear to him. So despite the dark, he could easily follow the tracks of the group following the Trog. Gabriel could pick up Rogue's tracks, identifying the limping gait. He hoped she was okay.

After travelling several hours in the sun, he was glad of the cool night air and he paused to take a breath. He knew he had to hurry. Earlier, when the sun had set, he had heard gunshots but there were not many and he was sure the advance team could not be overwhelmed so quickly. Gabriel was sure they must have enountered a lone opponent and subdued it.

Shouldn't they be coming back then? He hoped so, because despite his continual physical exercion, with which he tried to convince himself of his health, he felt slight nausea. Gabriel ingored the sensation but he feared it was sign that he had not full recovered from his injury.

He was about to move off when he felt the Pipboy vibrate so pulled it out and accessed it.

Control to agent 001: Message Code X7-3
Descrambling#########

Status check - Request update on caravan progress. Expected ETA?

Report back ASAP

Message ends


Curious, thought Gabriel. Were they trying to ascertain if the caravan had been attacked? Control must wonder why the spook's Pipboy wasn't moving and his was. Slayer command liked to know where it's operatives were. Control could not ask him straight about the status of their backup agent but hoped to glean information from him. Gabriel considered a little misdirection.

Reply- Agent 001 to Control

Caravan proceeding normally. Expected problems/hold ups. Dealt with efficiently.

One concern - desertions: three caravans left trail after Trog incident. Combat under control, however wagons seen fleeing, including one driven by possible enemy (Subject attempted to make contact but was rebuffed - standard deniablilty)

Possiblity that mission is compromised. However, will continue to Grey Cliffs to complete assignment, unless ordered otherwise.

Message ends

He sent the message and clicked the Pipboy off. Hopefully, they would not make too much of teh Spook's tracker signal remaining stationary. They would guess that if he deserted, then he would dump the Pipboy immediately. Gabriel thought about the man and whether Control would buy the story. The man was aging, which means he was odd for a Nightblade. It was a new program but some veterans joined up. He did not look like a combat specialist but it can be hard to tell. Still, if he was an information gatherer, Gabriel thought it possible the Control would consider the possibility that their agent had been panicked by he fighting and taken off.

He's just have to wait and see.

Gabriel continued on until he heard distant sounds of people moving. He assumed it was the team but caution overcame relief and he hurried away from their trail and waited.

When they came into sight, he relaxed. He recognised Grim leading them, and Rogue was still with him. There were some others who he did not recognise but the look of purpose and lack of fear in Rogue and Grim, reassured Gabriel that the others were friendlies.

The assassin moved out of cover and approached the team. As usual he was not detected until he was close by.

"What the fuck?" Shouted one man holding rifle.

"Easy Syphon." said Grim. "He's with us."

Rogue moved forward.

"You recovered okay."

Gabriel nodded, then turned to Grim,

"Said I'd follow you out."

"You did indeed. We need to be moving though. WE got the Trog before he reached the hills but the shots might have attracted the attention of a warparty so we need to hussle."

Gabriel nodded.

"You need a rearguard? I'll be able to see them coming before anyone else."

"Be my guest." replied Grim, pleased to have Gabriel's skills at hand. "Okay, let's move out." he called quietly to the rest of the team.

Gabriel moved to the back of the team and scanned the dark landscape. THings looked clear for now, but those Trogs could cover a lot of ground fast. They could be just over the horizon. Gabriel hoped not. He'd fought enough monsters in the last few days. He was an assassin, a man-killer, not a beast hunter.

Then he reminded himself, he was a Nightblade, a weapon of the Order. He had to do what was necessary for the greater good.
 
Grim kept the group at a steady pace. The more distance from the Trogs the better. Eventually, he figured, they would either reconnect with the caravan or with the trail. But there were more worries now. If they were indeed being pursued by Trogs than it was better if the small group led the hunting party away.

So there were two choices, either go Southwest, and back track to the town. If the Trogs pursued, they would find the tracks of the caravan. But they would also find their dead, or what was left of them, and probably the rats that would certainly return.

If he moved Southeast he would move ahead of the caravan route or hit the caravan. Also not a good choice.

North was not a good idea. The Trogs were in that direction.

Grim stopped to look back, hoping to pick out any Trogs outlined against the darkening sky. But he could see nothing in the night.

Rogue jogged up. Her limp was getting worse. "How ya feeling." Asked Grim.

"I can hold up." Said Rogue.

Syphon and Talon followed. The group gathered to catch their breath. A bit later came Gabriel, who was also showing a limp.

"You ok?" Asked Talon.

"Ya, why?" Replied Gabriel.

"What do you see." Asked Grim.

"So far, nothing definite. There might be movement, but its far away." Replied Gabriel. "We might be able to hide our trail and then change directions."

Rogue shook her head. "Won't matter. The Trogs follow by scent, not by tracks, and we are upwind. Hiding the tracks will only allow them to catch up."

The others looked at her curiousily. Rogue shrugged. "I have been on this trail before. Trogs aren't something new."

"Ok, so which way?" Asked Grim.

Rogue thought about it a bit. "I doubt they'd go after the caravan. Trogs are nasty to confront, but usually they avoid caravans. They're rat hunters mostly, even will go after a lone deathclaw. But not caravans. Enough of them, a war party, well it could happen, has happened. But I doubt they would try such a thing. Still night might give them an incentive. Especially if they're pissed."

"So we don't sleep with the caravan tonight." Said Syphon.

"No, we can't risk it." Said Grim. "Rogue, what about the town."

"They would follow us back to the town." Said Rogue, mulling it over, "Chances are that's their hunting ground, so its territory. Once they get it back, they'll probably leave it alone. Also Trogs bury their dead. So if they find bodies, even burnt bodies, they'll bury before chasing. It would delay them. Also if the rats are back, they'd rather hunt then chase. Trogs are clannish, but they are unlikely to chase revenge if they could hunt and their territory isn't messed with."

"Then we go there." Said Gabriel.

"Well, if they are really pissed they might chase, but they are more likely to go for us then go after the caravan." Said Rogue.

"Wonderful." Sighed Syphon, thinking that this had been a bad idea. " And how long might they chase?"

"Forever." Said Rogue. "If they're pissed off enough. Until they get us. The trick will be not to piss them off. Well not any more then they're already pissed off."

"Ok then back to town." Said Grim. He noticed that Gabriel was looking to the North. "What do you see?"

"Maybe movement. If its them they are closing on the one you all killed. But I can't say if they they are following us."

"Let not wait to find out." Said Talon.

Quickly they got off to a run, they course back to the town.
 
Pipboy felt movement from where he had placed the PIPboy he had found earlier, this must mean they sent a message.

He opened the PIPboy to see what was going on, and he saw what he had feared, the Slayers had started to worry, let's just hope they aren't that suspicious of the disappearance of the tracking signal that they would do something drastic.
After a couple of minutes he saw that the Nightblade had sent back a message, so, he was pretending to think the other Slayer was an enemy. Interesting, the slayers might believe it, and they might not wonder about it anymore.

Well, there was nothing he could do.

Looking at the old man, who was still in a slumber, he decided to go over all of the places that could possibly hold a cure of some kind.
There were the military bases, but he had no clue as to where they were hidden, and even if he did, he wouldn't want to try to go in one, he'd probably get shot as soon as he neared the door.

Then there was the possiblity of a Vault-Tec installation, but that was almost worse than a military base, Vault-Tec had gained a lot of power before the war according to all of the stuff he had read.

Other places.....an old hospital, but there was little chance that they could find a hospital, and even less of a chance that it would still be unlooted.

What else....
Yes, maybe....a university, especially if it had a hospital institution. But would a university still be around, would it still ne unlooted, and would it have some kind of cure?
Perhaps.....it was worth a shot, if he could remember if there was a university near.

Scouring his memory, he couldn't remember reading about it, he couldn't, his memory was failing him.

Maybe...someone else knew, maybe...yes! He had seen a ghoul walk around, Virgil was his name, he thought. He thought that ghould had been around since before the war, maybe he knew about some kind of university around. Maybe......it was worth trying to locate him....
 
OCC- I'm going to cut this short as I want to see what the rest of you want to do with the story. Reaper, if you want Gabriel to fight some Trogs, knock yourself out.

ICC-

The group continued to move Southwest, to the town. The moonlight offered enough illumination that they could move fast, and even if they hadn't, the smells of recent fire would have led them to the abandoned battlefield.

They stopped when they arrived, near the old well in the middle of town. All were exhausted from the desperate run. They waited for Gabriel to come up, and dipped the bucket down but there was no more water from the dry well.

When Gabriel arrived, he was breathing hard. Even the trained assassin was exhausted from the run.

Grim waited for him to catch his breath. "Anything?"

"Nada. If there back behind us, I can't see them."

Cerebus was sniffing the air, but being upwind from the Trogs, could get no scent.

"What do you think?" Asked Talon.

"Hell, they might be back there and chasing us, or they might have turned back. Can't tell. But I know that I'm just about run out." Said Gabriel.

"Same here. My leg is throbbing. I can probably continue but it would be a good thing to rest now." Said Rogue.

She had been favoring her better leg, her limp more noticeable.

Even Talon, with all his armor, was showing signs of fatigue. Hook should have deployed other men for this mission. They had all been up and in combat since the morning. Half of them were still sporting wounds.

They could go further south, leading the Trogs away from the caravan, if the Trogs were following. But further travel would mean that the small company might be too exhausted to put up a fight should the Trogs follow. And perhaps the Trogs had turned back.

Regardless, they needed to rest.

"Alright. We need to have an out post to the North, keep an eye on the Trogs should they come in. The rest of us can stay close to town, dig in here, should we get hit. If those at the OP see something, they should get back pronto to where the rest of us are holding out. Then we exit and keep going South. Chances are the Trogs will stop, hunt for rats or bury their dead. That will give us a start."

"No shooting?" Asked Syphon.

"No, we don't want to piss them off more than they already are. We need to do this quietly. Evade, not contact."

Gabriel nodded. "Sounds right. I'll take the OP duty first, my eyes are better anyway."

"I'll go with him" Offered Syphon.

Talon pointed to a building in town and said. "That building near the southeast part of town is probably the best to hold up. One exit front, one in back, and mostly mortar. Also the second floor is assessible and if we get cut off, we might be able to exit out the second window."

"Alright, Gabriel,"Said Grim, "You rest first and let Syphon watch. There's an old church near a grave yard to the North. That should give you good vantage. The rest of us will hold up there and then two will go out to relieve you in a few hours. Try to rest."

With that, the others split up. Talon took a position near the closest door, with Cerebus sleeping nearby. Rogue found some old bedding on the second floor, while Grim rested near the rear exist.
 
He woke up inside a coffin. He has been laid down and his arms were crossed over his chest. Like Saul reborn into Paul, scales shed from his eyes as they creaked open, staring at the upholstered lid of his new home for the rest of eternity. It should have come as a shock, but his mind was still stoically rational. He realized he had just awoken from the dead, as absurd as it sounded, but he could accept that. No problem there. Now he just had to get out.

A Gregorian chant could be heard outside, very near the coffin. Inside, he can feel the reverberations of the requiem. Though he did not suffer from claustrophobia or any weak mental faults, the eerie humming instilled a rare panic in him. Fear gripped his heart in a vice grip and the easy calm in him suddenly faded.

His first thought, as always, was to go for his revolvers. If there were anything he can depend on in this cutthroat world, it would be his weapons and his own god-given or god-cursed skill in them. The guns were prone to misfires and jams but they had kept him alive. And the only price they ask was his humanity.

His finely honed hands drop down in a familiar motion, arms unlimbering and fingers curling back. But his hands tap cloth at his side and he realizes, with great fear, that his revolvers are gone. That more than anything chills his heart.

He is a Blade and fear is a foreign emotion. It was especially dreadful then, for one who kept his cool. The build up of terror budding in his heart is almost overpowering, paralyzing. He listens as his lungs heave. He feels his limbs lock up.

It is too much and he has to remind himself that he is Blade. The reminder of his roots, a patrician bloodline, tells him how to conduct himself. He quells the fear in his heart and replaces it with an even colder anger.

His hands shoot out and pounds once, hard against the lid of the coffin. It doesn’t budge or give and he raises his hands to pound once more but stops. His hands feel different. There is no light in the coffin to see. Instead, he brushes his hands together. He feels resistance and moves his hands along his chest. His whole body has been enshrouded in cloth. He jerks his hands up to touch his face but they are stopped at his neck. He jerks them again and hears a clanking sound of chains. He has been fettered to the coffin.

The idea of being totally helpless fills him with a berserker’s red frenzy. He pounds against the lid, beating a tattoo into the upholstered surface but the Gregorian chant does not cease or even break note. The chains rattle at each pound but it isn’t enough. He adds yelling to the cacophony but he soon stops because his throat is sore.

His arms fall back to his side. In a voice not his own, he roars, “Release me!” It booms, shuddering the coffin on its stand.

The Gregorian chant unanimously ceases. He hears the clash of footsteps on stone moving away from him. The chanters are walking away.

“Release me!” he repeats. The footsteps fade away until he can hear nothing but silence. The thought of spending eternity alone is disheartening. He takes a deep breath.

“RELEASE ME!” his voice booms in an unearthly tenor.

Silence. Then a pair of footsteps returns, walking leisurely toward him. The footsteps come closer until they finally stop. A raspy, cold voice speaks, “Arise, shade.”

He feels the coffin begin to shake and latter realizes that the entire world is shaking alongside it. The shackles unbind themselves from his hands and fall lifelessly to his sides. With a gigantic explosion, the lid blows cleanly off the coffin and cold air rushes in to great him. He gasps as the vitalizing current brushes against him.

Then he feels the coffin shudder once more. Once inert, he feels gravity pull away and the coffin lunge upright off its stand. The sudden, unexpected force causes him to fall out. His feet are bound together by the shroud and are unable to catch his balance. He lands on what feels like cold stone.

“Arise, shade, arise,” whispers the same voice again. The words are chilling and stark, lacking of emotion.

“Can’t,” he pants on the ground. He could not see a single thing. “I am blind.”

“No. Strip of your wrappings, shade.”

He realizes that he is still shrouded like a mummy. On the floor, he begins to strip the lengths of pristine white cloth away from his body. A sick, rotting odor rises as the shroud is peeled away and he knows that is his own body emitting the stench. He unwraps his legs first and stands up. He works his way up, tearing off cloth. Finally, he frees his face and he can see.

He first realizes he is in a church. He sees two lines of pews. Glass stained windows, depicting various saints in various stages of martyrdom are inset into the walls. He turns around and sees the coffin he had formally occupied standing up in front of the tabernacle. Behind it, the anguished figure of Jesus Christ stares down at him from his cross. The sole Eucharist candle is the only source of illumination.

“Welcome back to the dead,” the voice whispers from behind him.

He turns around, startled, and discovers his emancipator. He sees a man who would have been tall if his back was not stooped over. The man is using what appears to be a paddle as a cane to support his back. A very long black robe covers his skeletal figure. The man shuffles closer to him and raises his head up, causing the hood’s cowl to slip off.

“Ibis!” he exclaimed.

But the hooded man only chuckles. Somehow, the laughter sounds very dire. “I am not your Ibis. I am Charon, the ferryman of River Acheron. I bring dead souls to Hades. In this case, that would be you.” The man chuckles darkly.

He is confused. The man in front of him looks like Ibis but something is…wrong. Ibis, though familiar with death, did not exude such a macabre feeling. He knew that this was not his old acquaintance, despite the similar look.

“Are you ready, shade?” asks Charon. He leans impatiently on his paddle.

He shakes his head. “Why do you keep calling me that, fiend?”

The ferryman shrugs dismissively. “There is no other suiting name for what you are. You are only a shade of what you had been in life. It is best to forget what you had been.”

“But I remember, Charon. I had a name. It was…my name…is…is…” He brings a hand to his forehead, trying to recall.

“It is best to forget,” Charon says, almost sympathetically. “We must go. We have a long trip ahead of us.” The ferryman turned away, walking out of the doors of the church.

He watches Charon move, baffled at whether to follow him. He turns around and sees the statue of Jesus staring sternly at him. Without a word, he follows after Charon.

The ferryman was waiting for him. He steps out of the church and sees that he is in a large cavern. He turns around and sees that the church has disappeared, gone without a trace of every exisiting.

Charon beckoned towards him. “Come shade. This is but the doorway to Hades.” The ferryman began walking further into the cavern and he followed after.

As they walked deeper, the path began downgrading until it was nearly a steep incline. It was dark in the caverns but a bluish fire seemed to emit from Charon’s robes. He stayed close to his ghastly guide, despite of his natural weariness.

Up ahead, he could see more bluish fire, except brighter than Charon’s. Along with that, he heard ravenous howls and grunts. His hands go reflexively to his side, searching for his missing revolvers.

Charon notices and chuckles again. “Be calm, shade. That is just the protector.”

The ferryman’s words did little to soothe him.

Soon, they came to the source of light. Their path gave away to a larger cave. In front of them, a larger metal door that was so tall it reached the ceiling and so wide an army of men could pass through at the same time. Two bowls on either side of the door emitted the eerie blue fire.

And in front of the door, chained at its post, was a massive dog almost as tall as the door. It was a three-headed dog, each muzzle growling, each pair of eyes staring malevolently, and each mouth bared open. At the sight of newcomers, it lunged to its feet and began barking.

Charon chuckled mirthlessly and walked up to the dog. He whistled twice and the massive dog lay down obediently, whining softly. “Calm, Cerberus. Just another customer here.”

The dog Cerberus whined again and closed its three pairs of eyes as Charon patted its nose. The ferryman turned back and said, “It’s alright to go, shade. Cerberus here makes sure only the dead enter. And never leave.”

The Adamantine doors of creaked open, letting in a sudden surge of cold air to buffet in. Charon walked through without a word.

Edging around the massive dog, he follows after the ferryman.

The door to Hades led to a wooden dock. There, Charon awaited before a small boat. The ferryman turned at his arrival and grinned. “Are you ready, shade?”

He looks over at the murky waters and swallows hard. He shakes his head at the ferryman. “No. But I have very little choice.”

Charon is silent. He extends one hand, palm up and stares expectantly.

He looks at the hand uncomprehendingly. “What do you ask of me, fiend?”

The ferryman shakes his head in disdain. “It is customary for the dead to be buried with a coin underneath his tongue. That way, he can afford to pay for his voyage across the River Acheron.”

“I have no coin,” he says.

Charon is silent but then shrugs. “No matter. You were Death’s hand in life, shade. You’ve already paid for your passage.” The ferryman lowered himself onto the boat. He followed wordlessly.

The ferryman pushed them off from the deck with his paddle. Slowly, the boat began moving. As it moved, the murky waters lapped against its wooden surface. The same bluish fire hung around the edges of the cavern, illuminating their path.

As he pushed, Charon spoke, “This is the river Acheron, shade. The river of woe. You may meet brothers you have known.” He chuckled darkly.

“What nonsense do you babble, Charon?” he spat.

“Just wait, shade. All will be revealed in time.”

Soon enough, as the boat inched along, they began hearing mournful cries. The aptly named river of woe was filled with sounds of anguish. He leaned over the boat and to his surprise, he could see men drowning in the river. And to his horror, he recognized these men. They were dressed as Blades with Blade masks and knives flailing in their hands.

He turned away, covering his eyes.

“It gets much worse, shade,” remarked Charon.

They moved on to the next river, leaving the Blades behind.

“Next is the river Phlegethon, or the river of fire. You should be familiar with this setting, shade.” Charon moved the boat faster.

And instead of water, the river turned into flowing magma. Amazingly, the boat did not burn. But the heat was unbearable. Charon did not seem to feel it, but he did. He remembered his sojourn into the deserts, his time of purification and cleansing. His baptism by fire. But this fire was stronger, harsher. His lungs burned.

“Charon,” he croaked. “I am dying.”

But the ferryman laughed. “You are already dead, shade. But the dead can still feel pain. Bear with, for I only gets worse.”

They left the rivers of fire and he sat back in relief.

“Don’t relax now, shade. We are approaching the river Cocytus. The river of lamentation is hard for all who pass into Hades.” Charon drove the boat into the next river.

He braced himself for what would come next. The murky waters filled up with bodies once more but these bodies were not of men but of children and women. He looked over the boat, unable to stop himself, and found the faces of his enemies who knew no better. He had killed them, despite their age and gender, callously. They stared back bleakly, accusation in their eyes.

He sat back. “No, had to…I…it was my…my…duty,” he whispered back lamely. But the bodies of children and women stretched on.

Charon chuckled. “Yes, you’ve done Death’s work, shade. However, your victims may think otherwise.”

He covered his eyes in shame. “Please. No more, Charon. Take me back.”

But the ferryman laughed. “Impossible. The dead must stay with the dead. It only gets worse, shade.”

They left to enter the next river.

He stared into the ferryman’s eyes with weariness. “What next, fiend? Or does it ever end?”

“We come to Styx. The river of hate. This is where those who cannot afford to buy passage linger for the rest of eternity. I’m certain you’ll see some familiar faces.” Charon laughed darkly.

The waters of the next river turned to red. Or even blood. He could tell what was coming up next. The bodies of his enemies would be waiting here. He stood up, staring defiantly out into the water. Or blood.

He saw bodies floating, thrashing madly. He saw raiders, slavers, and outlaws. Their corroded bodies stared blackly at them and they hissed like madmen. He watched as they thrashed their way towards the boat. He jumped back, watching the hundreds of bodies all lunge towards him.

Charon lowered the paddle inside the boat and stripped off his robes. Bluish fire erupted from him. When the brilliant flash faded, Charon was replaced with a winged demon bearing a double hammer in its hands. The creature that was Charon bounded up its legs, bracing itself, then shot itself up into the air with its mighty wings.

“WAYLAYERS BEGONE!” the Charon/demon roared, flinging its hammer into river of blood. The water coalesced and then shot out, carrying with it the bloodthirsty corpses.

The demon landed back in the boat and curled its massive arms around itself. The brilliant flash of bluish fire enveloped the creature again and when the light subsided, Charon, dressed in his robes, reappeared. Without a word, he picked up his paddle and began rowing again.

He stared at the ferryman for a long time, looking at him in shook. He realizes his hands are shaking and the clenches them together just to make them stop.

Charon looked back gravely. “Sometimes, the dead can still do harm. You, especially, have made many enemies in this realm, shade. I am tasked with your defense.”

He remained silent, still shocked.

The ferryman continued rowing, brining them to the next river. “This is the river Lethe, the river of forgetfulness. This is the last river you must pass before entering Hades.”

He prepared himself for what would come next, though the river of forgetfulness did not fill him with dread. He was surprised when Charon stopped the boat. He stared expectantly at the ferryman.

Charon wordlessly took a chalice from the folds of his robes and dipped it into the murky waters within. He held up the glass, as if he was about to make a toast. “To proceed, you must drink of the waters and forget all you have done in life. This will be the final measure, shade.” The ferryman extended the glass.

He took the glass, holding it in front of him. He merely stared at it for a long minute. Then he raised it to his lips. But before he could drink, the ferryman stopped him. Holding up a hand, Charon whispered, “Wait, shade. I have a proposal for you.”

He lowered the glass. “Have your say, fiend. I am ready to face death.”

Charon took the glass back from him and tipped its contents back into the river. “I know you are, shade. But dark times are coming ahead of us. And the realm of Death has always benefited from dark times. But this is different.”

“I don’t understand, Charon.”

The ferryman leaned in closer. “Then I’ll make you understand. The cycle of death is inherently interred with the cycle of life. Without life, there can be no death. Now, there is much death to occur very soon. Too much, in fact. It is beyond any of our control, shade. The flood of death into Hades will benefit my Master. But what happens when that flood runs dry?”

“You are talking of the apocalypse, Charon,” he said. “The man Ibis, whom you resemble, spoke of the same thing.”

The ferryman nodded earnestly. “Yes, but not in the terms of your mere mortal understanding. I do not care if life is obliterated. I only care that death will be obliterated along with life. My Master cannot survive without lives.”

“And who is your master?’

Charon only chuckled. “You know His name, shade. He knows yours. You’ve been His instrument in life. He asks that you be His instrument again.”

He sat up. “What are you saying, Charon? Do not taunt me.”

“I offer you life, shade.” The ferryman stood up, taking something from his robes. In his hands was a golden Ankh. “This is the Egyptian sign of life.” The bluish fire erupted into his hands again and when it faded, the golden Ankh had melted into a small capsule. Charon chuckled, looking at the capsule. “Modern medicine has been able to concentrate life into a pill. You must seek out life in the North, shade. That is your destiny, your redemption.”

The ferryman pointed a skeletal finger. “Do you accept life, shade? Or do you want to continue your due course?” Charon held up the pill in one hand and the chalice in the other.

He took the pill without a second thought. “I choose life, Charon.”

Charon nodded, pocketing the chalice. “Good, very good.” Then he erupted into fire. The flames gave away and in his place, Charon became the winged demon again.

The Charon/demon raised its double hammer in the air. “RETURN TO THE REALM OF THE LIVING, CALEB!”

The hammer came crashing down onto Caleb Rutger’s head.

*************

“AAAARRRRGH!”

Caleb awoke with a scream. He was bathed in sweat and panting hard. Blankets covered him but he was still cold. A low fire was burning in front of him and he shied back from it.

“Caleb!” shouted Jeeva. The ex-slaver knelt next to his companion.

The Blade clasped Jeeva’s shoulder in a tight vice grip. He tugged the younger man closer to him. “The Ankh of Life,” he breathed, panting hard, “is in the North. Only, it’s not an ankh but a pill. Charon told me!”

Jeeva, fearing that the old man was suffering from a fever, tried to calm him down. “Easy, Caleb, easy!” He opened up his canteen. “Here, take a drink.”

But Caleb shoved it away. “I don’t want a drink! I need the pill!” He began standing up but Jeeva pushed him down as if he were a kitten.

“Calm down, hombre. You just need to rest.”

Caleb grabbed Jeeva’s collar with both hands, heaving him close. “Listen, ‘hombre’, there’s a pill. A pill that will make me better. It may save my life. It’s in the North. I am in no fucking condition to get it. So I need you to get it.”

The ex-slaver blanched. It was the ordeal with digging the bullet out of Caleb’s shoulder all over again. “Wait, are you sure? How can you know?”

“Don’t ask. Just know that I’m sure.”

“I don’t know, Caleb,” Jeeva blurted. “You’re as good as dead if I leave you alone.”

But Caleb shook his head adamantly. “I’m as a good as dead if you don’t get that pill. That’s the only chance I have.”

The old cowboy threw off his blankets and unbuckled his gun belt. He took out one of the revolvers and then handed the other revolver and the gun belt to Jeeva. “Here. I’ve never let anyone handle any of my guns before. That’s how serious I am.”

The ex-slaver took the gun belt reverently. “I don’t feel good about leaving you alone, Caleb.”

Caleb gestured at his other gun. “Six shots are all I need. Now git.”

“Wait, maybe if-”

But the cowboy turned the revolver towards Jeeva. “Get the pill, Jeeva. I’ll be okay.”

The ex-slaver stood up slowly, backing up. Caleb stared back sickly, his eyes dull.

Jeeva turned away and headed North in a mad effort to find some magical pill to save the Blade.
 
Reed moved through the camp, the secret heavy on his mind. He was worried. This talk of Black Plague had him worried.

He watched the men. A few of them had made mention that one of their number had been isolated, that Blade was sick with something. But no one seemed to be making much of it. Most of them sat around, bullshitting the normal caravaner bullshit. Best places to drink, whores they knew, old war stories.

That would change. People would learn, they always do. And then the men would start to panic. Panic was not only dangerous, it was contagious.

He had already considered killing Blade, but what good would it do.

Where the hell was Hook? Probably sleeping. The borderman with their patrols should be able to find the drugs the caravan would need.

Reed went to Hook's tent only to find that Hook wasn't there.

Damn Bordermen. For this they paid tribute?

He saw Gruug tending to his wounds as well as to the other wounded and had Reed considered it, would have found the mutant's tenderness remarkable.

But Reed wasn't much for caring about niceties. "Gruug, I want you North, on point. Keep an eye out for Trogs or Rats or what ever the fuck is out there."

Nearby, Virgil, the ghoul, had gotten up, as if expecting an attack. Reed didn't let him go either. "Virgil, you go with Gruug."

"But the wounded." Said Gruug.

"Let Nat worry about that."

"Nat's working."

"Then they can wait till she's finished." Said Reed, the contradiction of the mutant annoying him more than it should have.

He continued, hurrying now. Eager to bath, to find relief.

Finding his tent, finally he went inside, and disrobed.

Damn this itch.

He inspected the long red welts where he had itched previously. On his arms, on his thighs, the buboes.
 
Virgil walked alongside the big mutant, wondering what the fuss was about. Reed seemed....different from how he was before. Somehow, something was wrong with the caravan leader, he was troubled by something. Shrugging his shoulders, the ghoul waked on, he couldn't do much about it right now.

Suddenly, the ghoul noticed some movement in the corner of his eye, he turned towards the movement and saw a small filthy young man, with long hair, seemingly unwashed. He'd seen the man before, walking, or rather sneaking, around camp. He seemed to be the newest guy in the caravan, he'd heard he was pretty good with tech stuff. He thought Pipboy was his name, yes....

Coming closer, the filthy man asked: "Virgil?"

"Yes, waddya want?", asked the ghoul.

"Need speak. Not with big man. Just you." said Pipboy.

Hmm, that man had a...peculiar... way of speaking, and he didn't seem dangerous, besides he could handle himself. "Gruug, could you wait at the carts there?" said Virilg, pointing to some nearby carts.

Shrugging, the bug mutant did what was asked, and sat down near the carts, pulled out his Kalashnikov and started to inspect and clean it.

"Now, what did you want?"asked Virgil.

"You know pre-war things?"

"Yes, you could say that."

"YOu know university near, anywhere?"

"Well, I might....but....why do you want to know??"

"I...I...", the young man seemed to be thinking on the wisest thing to say.

"Come on, tell me. I won't help you if you don't tell me. Come on, I won't tell anyone, if that is of any comfort." said the old ghoul.

"Okay. Blade, he sick. Sick with plague. Bubonics. More people infected. Can't isolate."

The ghoul looked shocked at the young man, the plague.... The terror, even though he, with his extensive exposure to both FEV and radiation, wouldn't have much to fear, it was terrible. People....would die. A lot of people would die, and he couldn't let that happen. No way. The plague.....
"But.......but....", scraping his throat, the ghoul needed a bit of time to gather his thoughts, "But...well, goddamnit!! Alright, but..why do you need to know about a cursed university??"

"University. Chance of medicine. If have hospital better. Only chance..."

"Well, BLAST! Have you talked to anyone else about this?"

"No, but old man, and caravan leader, they know."

Well, that would explain Reed's preoccupation, and Ibis....well, he was kind of the doctor around here, he would be treating Blade, and other people. Damnit!! Alright, a university, a university... Come on, think goddamnit!!!
What university was around here.....wait, Grey Cliffs, yeah, there used to be a town around here, a pretty big city at that. They had..yeah they had a university. Better yet, they had one of the top medical universities around, or so he had heard. Yes! That could work. Let's hope it would work.

"Yes, I know where a university is. A good one. Look, we should go tell the old man, or Reed. Probably both, that would be best. Now, keep your mouth shut about this, don't tell anyone, we don't want the caravan to panic, so don't tell anyone. I'll go tell Gruug he should find someone else to walk with, this is more serious."

"Hey, Gruug!" yelled the ghoul.

The big mutant looked up.

"Go find someone else to patrol with! I've got more important things to do."

"But, Reed said..."

"I don't give a fuck what Reed said, this is more important, go pick up a caravaner, they're all scared of you anyway, so they won't protest. Tell em that Reead told you to take someone."

"But, alright then."

And the old mutant started to walk back into camp, stopped at the nearest gathering of mn, and told someone to come with him. Apparently, Virgil was right, there were no protests...

"Right, Pip is it? We need to go talk to some people..."
 
Syphon took up position in the church tower, scanning the dark horizon through the scope of his rifle. Times like this, he wished he had access to military grade hardware. His gun was powerful, but he would have traded a little stopping power from a starlight scope right about now.

He shook his head. No weapon is perfect for every situation. At least when he did see the Trogs, he could put them down with a single round. It might not kill it, but getting up would have been pushed higher up the Trog's priorities than killing them. And that could only be a good thing.

He turned back to look for the assassin and his eyes searched the darkness but he could see nothing. The tower was sheltered from moonlight and was close to pitch black.

"They are out there." came the voice to his left. Syphon snapped his head back and saw the halo of golden hair around Gabriel's pale face. Every other part of him was invisible. It was like looking at a disembodied head.

"You can see them?" asked the sniper. Gabriel shook his head.

"Not yet, but they're coming. They're hunters and we pissed on their hunting grounds and we took some of their own. What would you do?"

Syphon nodded his understanding.

"I'd hunt down the bastards and kill them."

"Precisely. Unfortunately, in this case, we are the bastards." Gabriel sighed. "Hopefully they won't want to assault a fortified position. They know they are tough but even big dumb creatures like them must realise their losses will be too great if they attack us here."

"I hope you're right, but I wouldn't bet the farm." replied Syphon.

"Neither would I."

The sniper didn't take much comfort in that.

"Still clear?" he asked.

"So far." Gabriel sat back and drew his SiG Sauer P-226, his most powerful firearm. It didn't have half as much power of Syphon's rifle, but the Trogs would still feel a hit from the powerful 9mm. It always surprised Gabriel, how much variation there was in the effectiveness of the many pistols that used the versatile 9mm round. Brownings were well regarded but lacked the stopping power of SiG Sauer handguns. Walther made excellently crafted, very accurate weapons but once again, SiG had beaten them in the damage area. That was why Gabriel had chosen the pistol. He was good enough not to need the weapon to be accurate for him. What he needed was the piece of mind the SiG provided. One bullet could put someone down. Maybe not dead, but once they were down they were out of the fight, and he could deal with them afterwards. And no one survived a head shot from this gun. Most of their brains will have followed the bullet out through the exit hole.

He stripped and cleaned the weapon, quickly and efficiently. He checked the removeable silencer and also made sure the spare was still in its pouch in his belt. Continuous use of these silencers reduced their effectiveness and as an assassin, he needed to have long term suppressing capablilities. A spare silencer was the simplest solution.

Gabriel glanced up to check the landscape and still found it clear. Hope was beginning to take root in his mind but he suppressed it, knowing that it could make him complacent.

Focus.

Holstering the cleaned weapon, Gabriel turned his attention to the rest of his arsenal. He quickly cleaned the Berettas but paid less attention. They were good quality but simple and designed as a compromise. Power, capacity, handling and weight. The SiG was the same but the Swiss manufacturers had handled the compromise more to his taste. With both the Berettas resting in their holsters again, he considered sharpening his knives but realised that the sound might irritate Syphon who was diligently watching the moonlit landscape through his scope.

Gabriel could still see nothing so he assumed they would be safe for a while and he needed to stretch his legs. After the long run, he could feel the inactivity beginning to cramp his muscles.

"I'm going out to scout the area. There's no sign yet, but I'll be back before too long. Remember what Grim said, we don't want to engage these things if we don't have to." Syphon nodded and Gabriel slipped away into the night.

Walking felt good and Gabriel stretched for a while when he was outside. Then using the opportunity provided by the solitude, he sharpened his throwing knives, with slow, quiet strokes of his whetstone. He had lost one blade in the battle with the Deathclaws and had not managed to replace it with one of similar quality, so rather than risk trying to use an inferior blade, which he could mistake for an original in the heat of battle, he had decided to let it go. Now he had only five throwing knives.

He inspected his fighting blades but all were still in good condition. The panga had held its edge well, which he had expected given its weight and purpose. A cleaver should not need to be sharpened often. THe bowie knife would need attention soon and he feared it had been damaged it the battle on the El. He could see no problems but the blade felt wrong. It would have to be replaced soon because he could not rely on possibly faulty equipment. On this mission he had also carried with him, his tanto, the short Japanese knife. This mission was possibly deadly and he had felt that extra precautions might be necessary. Unused on this mission, the slightly curved blade was still perfect, a minuture copy of the long Katana he had aquired after the Spook's death. Gabriel felt the weight of the Katana now, strapped to his back in its wooden sheath. He did not want to look at now, fearing it would bring distracting thoughts, so he let rest in its sheath.

Realising he should be getting back soon, Gabriel went through another quick stretching routine, then taking a small luxury, removed his weapons and upper body clothing and began going through a series of martial arts combinations. He fought air with controlled fury, feeling the joy of freeing his muscles and enjoying the powerful rush of endorphins as his body chemically aided his endeavour.

Throwing one rapid combo after another, he bacame aware of someone watching him. He finished two more fast maneouvers then rolled across the ground, snatching up his tanto, clicking it out of its sheath and flashing toward the hidden watcher.

"Gabriel! No! It's me." Rogue's frightened cry caught his movement and he halted the lightening swing of his arm, stopping himself from slicing open her throat.

He was breathing hard, his bare torso covered in sweat, Gabriel snapped the blade back into its sheath and tried to conceal his anger.

"Sorry." he said with clenched teeth. "I thought I was alone."

"No, I'm sorry. I should have said something... but I was...fascinated." her eyes were still taking in his naked torso.

"I could have killed you."

"I know. I said I was sorry." she sounded annoyed now. "You're supposed to be on guard duty anyway. Why were down here dancing around half naked?" she tried to bite back the sudden anger, hormones affecting her judgement.

Gabriel felt the sting but controlled himself. Sort of.

He swung back to face her and slammed his hand against wall by her head, bringing his face close to hers.

"I was practicing. It's what I do. I told you. I fight and I'm the best because I practice. You can't understand."

THey both understood why the other was acting strange and angry but neither one could find the self-control to hold back.

"Still doesn't answer my question. Shouldn't you be up there with Syphon."

"You didn't seem to mind seeing me down here half-naked." Gabriel actually regretted saying that but like every word and every action, it was too late to take back now.

"Maybe not. But that doesn't change anything."

"Then I'll leave."

She nodded, also breathing faster.

"Good."

Their eyes were locked and neither one moved. Emotions running high, hormones dancing through their systems, bodies straining against mental control, the two wanderers stood there, almost touching.

Then Gabriel dropped his eyes and faltered, turning away but not moving to his equipment.

"I...I'm sorry." he said, quietly. "I shouldn't have said those things." He turned back, "I-" she cut him off as her lips touched his and Gabriel felt better than he had done in years.

They parted, breathless once more. There was heat between them. A need to do more than kiss but with a little passion released, the pressure was less and both knew this was not the time and not the place.

"You should continue your watch."

He nodded, his head spinning, but knowing she was right. Rogue smiled and moved off. He could still see her despite the deep shadows, so he turned away. Gabriel quickly dressed and carried his equipment back up into the tower where he found Syphon still looking through his scope.

"You were gone a while, Gabe. I was getting worried. You see anything out there?"

Gabriel slumped down in a corner and breathed for a moment before answering.

"Maybe they're not coming," he moved to look out into the darkness, "Maybe they're... oh fuck. Here they come."

Syphon moved his rifle around to check the area with his scope but could still see nothing.

"You sure?"

"A long way off, but they're coming. Can't tell how many, they are all bunched up together. I'll be able to tell when they get nearer. Go and wake up Grim and tell everyone to be on alert. If they want a fight, we'll have to be ready for them. I'll stay up here and watch. Get back here ASAP, we will need you on your long gun if they try anything. Now go." Gabriel ordered Syphon, who stiffened at the orders coming from a sinister assassin with no rank but the orders made sense so he complied quickly.

Gabriel remained in the tower and watched the Trogs advance. They were moving in a loping run, like hunting wolves. Gabriel laid the SiG in front of him and checked the small red-dot sight was working.

Then he lay still, waiting.
 
Rogue was the first to come back to the building. She woke up both Talon and Grim when she returned.

"What's going on?" Asked Grim.

"I thought I heard something. I went out and saw Gabriel. That's all."

"You sure?" Asked Talon, recent memories of his fight with the Trogs still on his mind.

"Yea. He was exercising."

Grim shook his head. Gabriel should have stayed still and quiet, and that way attract less notice.

Moments later Syphon came running through the door. "Trogs.... comin from the North." His voice hoarse.

"Where's Gabriel?" Asked Grim.

"He's back at the OP. I'm not sure but I think he plans to hold them off." Said Syphon, catching his breath.

Not good. The plan was to observe, be quiet and evade. Not engage.

"He'll never make it." Said Rogue. "If its a war party."

"How many?" Asked Talon.

"A hunting party is probably four to nine Trogs, maybe up to 12. Trogs hunt in families, and families usually run up to 12. But a hunting party means that multiple families have come from the clan. A clan can be up to 10 maybe 15 families, a war party could be at least 5 families. Jesus. The minimum number? I would guess 50 Trogs."

"Fuck." said Talon."It took nearly half the caravan to kill 9 of those things. Now we got 5 times that number?"

"We won't make it." Said Syphon, thinking that he really should not have come along on this mission.

"We're going to make it." Said Grim. Trying to keep calm. "Remember those tunnels where the rats ran. I reckon there's a sewar system under this town or at least some kind of drainage. We can go down there."

"There's a manhole cover out back." Said Syphon.

"What about Gabriel?" Asked Rogue.

Gabriel. This wasn't the first time Gabriel's grandstanding was going to put someone else's life at risk, besides his own. The assassin's desire to prove something to himself or to others was becoming a dangerous liability.

"We're going to bring him back." Said Grim. "But we need to be smart about this."

"Distraction would be best. If we made the Trogs think there were more of us then are." Said Talon. "I could light up the town with these star shells."

"When I was out, I thought I saw an old hand crank siren in the abandoned fire station." Offered Rogue. "The noise might scare them off, or at least give us a few minutes."
 
"That could actually work. Get to that, Rogue" Syphon said to Rogue, getting back his full breathe. Syphon was determined to get Gabriel back alive, even with it means putting himself into mortal danger or worse.

"you guys go through the drainage system, I'm going back on foot" Syphon said, pointing to the tower, as he ran out of sight. Syphon gripped his rifle with both hands as he ran, and soon the Church tower came into view. And with the church tower in view, so to the Trogs came in.

Syphon put his rifle in his pack, and quietly climbed the rusty, metal ladder, stopping occasionally to breathe and then continued on.

"Gabriel, The group is coming!" Syphon said, panting loudly.

"Thats from smokin'!" Gabriel said pointing at Syphon lung area,"...Thats what ya get".

"Yep" Syphon gasped, continuely trying to breathe.
 
OOC-- Ah. Well it makes sense. Ok. lets play it from there.

ICC-

Grim watched Syphon run back to get Gabriel, and he was too far before Grim could recall him back. Damn. He was hoping that Syphon and Rogue to provide sniper support if they needed them, but, well, life was full of improvisions.

"Rogue where the hell is that siren?" He asked. After she told him, he told her to keep an eye out and provide sniper support for Gabriel and Syphon.

"Talon, get ready with those star shells, I'll use your signal to start the siren."

Talon nodded. "Keep your eyes out folks, they might come around."

Rogue got near Talon as he worked the manhole cover open. From her position she could see Syphon climb up the tower.

When Talon had gotten the man hole cover removed he looked at her. "What's our situation?"

"We're too late."

Talon looked up. The moonlight threw faint shadows, but even Talon could make out the shapes of Trogs against the wall of the church.

____
OOC- Ok folks this should make the story a bit more interesting. Reaper and Syphon, hope you can figure a way out of the church before the Trogs sniff you out.
 
Gruug thought something was up. First, Blade was isolated, then Ibis was making lots of notes after he had taken Gruug's blood sample, now the ghoul had been talking to the pip character, Gruug had overheard something about beubonic black... And now he was walking south with some caravan guard who was scared shitless of him, and not Virgil who he was supposed to be with.

Gruug mulled over those thoughts as he walked.
"So, what the fuck is your name soldiert?"Asked Gruug.
"Err... It... It... It's err, Ja... Jake." Said the Caravan Guard.
"No need to be scared of me. If I wanted to, I could of killed you 50 different ways by now, wouldn't you think?" Asked Gruug.
"Err, well, I guess that is true..." Said the Guard.
Gruug knew he might be able to converse normally with this idjit.
"So, got any familie, Jake?" Asked Gruug.
"Why, yes, er... A wife... and err, two k-k-ids." He stuttered.
"FOR FUCKS SAKE!" Roared Gruug! "I reckon I might still kill you. OK, I have had a billion different oppurtunities to kill you so far.
 
They could hear the Trogs moving around below them. How had they covered the ground so fast? Gabriel knew he had misjudged how much time they had. If he'd known the Trogs would have reached the town so soon, he would have gone with Syphon and suggested fleeing or seeking a hiding place. Gabriel knew the team could put one hell of a fight, but that it wouldn't be enough to stop fifty or so Trogs. They'd take a lot of the beasts with them but the numbers would tell and the humans would lose.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. They should have kept on running. If we hadn't stopped, thought Gabriel, we might have made it further.

He almost laughed. They could never have outrun the Trogs, he knew that now, having seen the massive hunting party lope towards them, devouring the distance in minutes.

Now he and Syphon were stuck in the church tower, with the means to make the Trogs regret ever coming after them, but not the means to get out alive.

Perfect.

"Grim and the others are going for the sewers." whispered Syphon. Gabriel nodded.

"We need to join them. We're history here." replied the assassin. Syphon nodded.

Gabriel moved as quietly as he could and looked out over the moonlit town. He could see the big creatures walking around, searching for the humans. They were sniffing the air and looking around. Gabriel knew it wouldn't be long before they figured out the problem of why they could smell humans but couldn't find them. Eventually they'd come into the church, then the only way out would be out the window...

He stopped despairing as the thought hit him. Out the window. He looked around in the empty tower. There was no bell but there used to be and now Gabriel needed a rope. He searched through the shadows, moving stealthily, until he found a length of frayed but thick rope. It was old and he knew rope could become tougher or more fragile with age. He hoped that in this case it was the former.

"Syphon, we're going out the window."

The young man looked from the glassless opening, then back at the assassin.

"You fucking nuts?" he hissed. Gabriel moved closer to show him the rope. Then tied it as best he could to the old bell fixtures which still looked reasonably solid. "Great. We rappel down to the ground and we get fucking killed. I know we're hard hombres but come on man. They're too many of 'em."

"You'd rather we waited for them to find us?" Gabriel replied, quietly.

"Fuckin' A. We can take them one at a time as they come for us."

Gabriel considered it. THe plan had merit but the Trogs healing factor kept coming back to him. Together, he and Syphon could stop the Trogs reaching them until the ammunition ran out. Then they'd be fucked. The space was too cramped for Gabriel to fight properly against opponents like Trogs and even in a big enough space, he doubted his chances against more than one.

"They're too tough. We could put a lot of them down, but they'd keep coming and when we run dry, that'll be it."

Syphon slumped slightly but Gabriel could see that he was merely confirming a fearful thought Syphon had already had.

"They're still gonna get us if hit the deck out that window." he said. Gabriel shook his head.

"I've got a surprise for them that should keep them off our back for a little bit." Gabriel pulled two grenades up from his belt. Syphon grinned.

"About fuckin' time we gave them something to remember us by."

"Quite right. Now, we'll need to draw more of them to us. The more there are out there below us, the more we'll take down with the grenades.

"Okay. I could fire a few shots from the rifle. Anything else, it would just scare it off, but these Trog things seem to be gluttons for punishment."

"Good. Take one down with those shots if you can. A head shot with that beast, might kill one of them."

"The light's bad, but I'll give it my best shot." a sly smile appeared on Syphon's face and Gabriel had the feeling that at least one Trog wasn't going to see the sun rise tomorrow.

Gabriel nodded, then leaned out the window to check the area. He could see lots of the beasts still tracking, crouching and trying to read the tracks in the dirt. Their nightsight was better than average but obviously ot wasn't perfect. The assassin smiled, that would work in his favour.

He turned back to Syphon and pulled his lightprotective goggles on.

"Right. You start shooting, make sure they see the flash-"

"Then stop and let them come in, right?"

"Exactly. When they're gathered, I'll dump the grenades out on them, we let them blow, then we go down the rope as fast as possible and we run. Remember to keep your eyes closed when the grenades go off, the flash will ruin your nightsight otherwise.

Syphon nodded his understanding, then put his eye to the scope and Gabriel observed the sniper's careful movements. The rifle moved slowly, tracking from target to target until it settled. Syphon took a deep a breath, let half of it go, held the rest and squeezed the trigger. The noise was deafening and the rifle kicked back against Syphon's shoulder. He worked the bolt like lightening, the gun tracked across and boomed again, then he repeated the action and there was a third thunderclap.

Deciding that any gunfire would help draw them in, Gabriel drew one of his Berettas, quickly removed the silencer and began firing down into the town.

The loud roars of angry Trogs rewarded their efforts and the big creatures began loping towards the church.

Gabriel heard a crash from below and behind and realised that some Trogs round the back must have broken into the church.

A few spears crashed against the tower and both men ducked down.

"Well, they're fucking gathered!" called Syphon, "Make with the grenades, slick."

Gabriel thumbed out the pins and dropped both grenades over the edge of the opening and ducked down, grabbing the rope in his hand, ready to jump as soon as the grenades went off.

The double roar of the two grenades detonated shook the tower and both Gabriel and Syphon shouted in shock and pain as they were bowled over. Then they were up and running.

Gabriel leapt first, throwing the rope out in front of him, emerging into the night and whirling down the rope to floor. He landed and rolled, coming up with a pistol in his hand. Syphon thumped to the floor, staggering slightly at the impact but regaining balance quickly. All around them were the injured, prostrate froms of the Trogs. Moans of pain came from the big creatures and Gabriel was satisfied that they'd taken a good number of them out of the fight.

The two men wasted no time and took off across the town.

"That way." called Syphon and Gabriel complied, speeding toward where he hoped the rest of the team were waiting. A massive form appeared from an alley way and blocked their path but the two men were running too fast to stop sto they charged as hard as they could, the same idea striking both of them at the same moment.

Syphon dived forward and crashed into the Trogs left leg while Gabriel cannoned into its right. The beast toppled forward and both men rolled clear. As it the Trog thudded to the ground, Gabriel and Syphon were rounding the next corner and moving fast.

Through the gloom, Gabriel could see Rogue crouching behind cover, her rifle scanning, looking for targets. Glancing across he saw Grim still waiting with her. When the runners were nearer, Grim waved at them to hurry.

"Go, go." shouted Syphon, Grim and Rogue nodded and darted to the manhole, escaping into the sewers. Gabriel slowed and glanced back but saw nothing. The trogs were fast over long straight trails but couldn't keep up with the humans through the ruined town.

Syphon hopped down into the tunnel and Gabriel followed quickly, and both men scrabbled to quickly draw the heavy cover back into place and they were plunged into darkness.
 
OCC- Oops. Looks like a misread. Talon and Rogue were waiting near the manhole cover. Grimm went for the siren. Cerebus is probably with him.

Hmmmm....
________

ICC-

Gabriel was last down the tunnel and quickly shut the manhole above before descending down the ladder to where the others waited in the cramped space of the sewar tunnels.

Unlike the sewars of Tabis, these were a more rudimentary design, designed more for the flow of water than for the passage of people. The tunnel was merely three or four feet in height, and about the same wide, allowing little movement.

Big enough for a giant rat and not enough for a Trog.

"Whew, that was close." Said Gabriel, still feeling high from his narrow escape.

"Where's Grim?" Asked Talon.

Gabriel looked around, and suddenly realized something. Grim wasn't present, nor was Cerebus. In the rush to get to the manhole he had mistaken Talon for the older bounty hunter.

"I thought he was with you." Said Gabriel

"Oh fuck." Said Rogue.

"And that three headed dog?"

All of them looked up.

______

Grim had heard the blasts from inside the old fire station shortly after he had found the siren.

It could only mean that Gabriel had moved before Talon could fire off the star shells. Which was probably better, since Gabriel's vision would be less effective with the sudden illumination.

Quickly Grim began working the hand crank on the siren, around and around, until finally the siren had begun to wail.

But it had taken too long. By the time the siren had begun to wail, Gabriel was already closing the manhole cover.

Nearby, Grim heard Cerebus give a long whine.

Grim went to the large open doors, from which once upon a time red fire trucks had left to perform their public service, and poked his head out.

There were no star shells falling from the sky.
There was no Rogue or Talon near the manhole cover.

In fact the manhole cover was closed, and standing around it, with clubs raised, were three big, nasty looking Trogs.

Cerebus whined again, and then Grim could hear a low growl.

Ok, so something got fucked up. That or I'm awfully less popular than I had imagined.

Grim backed his way into the firehouse again.

Oh shit.

Time to think of a way out of this.
 
"Shit..man, we gotta get him outta there!" Syphon said, looking at Rogue and Gabriel. Syphon didn't know Gruug too well, infact he barely even knew who he was but Syphon couldn't live with himself if he left someone behind. It wasn't an option to leave someone dead.

"I know, but what can we do?" Rogue said, shrugging her shoulders lowly. Syphon shrugged also in confusion to what to do.
 
OOC: Alright, I'm gonna hijack two characters(Reed and Ibis, and I'm already hijacking Virgil as well) here for a short while, hope you don't mind, if you do mind, ignore it, I'll adjust it then when I get back in a day or two, but I need to do this to really get any further with my character.
If Ibis shouldn't be doing this, then have him do something else, I heard some talk about killing him, no problem, but do something, because Ibis needs to be reachable for stuff to make sense.

IC:
Virgil and Pipboy arrived at the tent where Ibis was taking a snooze. Walking in, Virgil walked up to him, and decided to wake him up, this was too serious to let it rest. Shaking the old man, Virgil started when the old man suddenly got up. Rubbing his eyes, Ibis looked around, but before he could say something Virgil did.

"We need to talk to you."

"What was important enough to...*yawn*...wake me up?" answered Ibis.

"The plague." said Virgil.

An uneasy silence followed.

"How did you find out?"

"I didn't, this little guy here did..."

"Yes! I see, I see you, looking at blood, talking bout plague." said Pip.

"Ahhh, then you are good at sneaking little guy, but I need to know, did you tell anyone else?" said Ibis.

"No, we didn't. We thought it'd cause a panic." answered Virgil.

"Good. That was good thinking. Now, what was important about it."

"This little guy here, he asked me about a university near here. He said that that was the only place where we could find a cure. And it makes sense, that would be the only place to find old meds. Asked me if I knew of an old university near, and there IS one, a pre-war one, with a good hospital as well. So we came to you, you are the one treating everything." answered Virgil.

"What? Yes, it DOES make sense. But, why would you ask me? Shouldn't you go to Reed?"

"Figured that that stubborn Reed wouldn't do anything to search it out if he wasn't sure it would be necessary."

"You're probably right, tell him that it IS one of the few chances to get any cure. Tell him that he will have a very big problem as well if he doesn't send people searching for a cure. We need a cure, that's the only sure way to stop this epidemic."

"What, you mean to say he has it as well?"

"I don't know, he might, but he'll get it if the people aren't treated, you can't really stop this thing without a good cure."

"Nope." added Pipboy.

Ibis looked at Pipboy, strange one that dirty fellow.

Virgil sighed, he'd have to go to Reed now, let's just hope he isn't too greedy to let his men die. And risk death himself. "Alright, we'll go to Reed then. Yes..."

As they left the tent, Ibis was staring at them...

---

The tent flap was violently opened by Virgil, who stormed in.

Reed gave a start:"WHa..."

"Shut up boss, we need to talk. This is serious, I already someone else with Gruug, so don't talk about that, this more important than that." said Vrigil.

"Wha the hell? What are you goddamn talkin about? Crooked-"

"I said shut up, we need to talk, I know about the plague."

That shut Reed up, he hadn't expected that word got out this fast. 'What? But....how?"

"I just found out, don't worry, noone else in the camp knows. There won't be a panic, I won't tell. But we DO need to talk."

"About..." said Reed, still a bit shocked...

"About a possible solution."

"Yes! University..." said a small voice from a corner, Pipboy had snuck in with the ghoul, oddly, Reed hadn't noticed yet.

"Solution??? Uni-"

"Would you be quiet? I'm explaining. YOu too Pip."

Pip looked at the old ghoul ....a bit grudgingly oerhaps.

Virgil continued:"Right, this guy here said that the only place for a cure would be in a university with a hospita-"

"And we're supposed to go off on a chase for this univers-"

"I said shut up! Now, yes. I talked to Ibis, he confirmed, it would be the only realistic place. Hospitals would've been long looted, and they wouldn't have had much anyway. A university would've had stuff more, for research and things. ANd with the size of a university, with it's campus, big chance people LIVE there, less looting if people live somewhere, since they protect stuff. If it HAS been looted, it should be around there in one of the houses anyway."

"And where would we find a-"

"Goddamnit Reed!!! I know of one, used to be not that far from here before the war, I know we can get there, it's probably within a day's march, the whole caravan would take longer, ofcourse, but we wouldn't need the whole caravan. We would need some people, some people good with weapons, and some people just to carry stuff. If there are people, we'll need someone who can talk well. But that isn't necessary. All I'm asking for is men to come with me, and Pip I suppose, to get the stuff."

"What? Now.... But...no! Not now, we can't do it, attack is going on, remember, you can go when we're safe. But you can be goddamn sure of it that you won't be paid extra for it. And you'll only get a few men, and I approve who they are, I don't want you taking the ones we need badly for guards here! Now git! This is MY tent, I'll talk to you later. Go see if you can still catch up with Gruug."

Walking out the tent, Virgil was mumbling to himself about the ungratefulness and greed of Reed. "Bloody fucking leech." was one of the lesser cuss words coming from his mouth.
"And I'm sure as hell not gonna see if I can catch up with Gruug, fucking bull."

Pipboy looked at Virgil, admiring the way how he handled Reed. Even though Reed was ordering in the end, Virgil had some definite control there. Luckily, thought Pipboy, otherwise we would've had a hard time getting people to find the cure. And a cure would be what they would need.

Pipboy scratched his head, he still wasn't sure if he had the plague. Suddenly, he smacked his arm, looking at his hand, he saw a dead flea...
Shrugging, he reminded himself that it didn't mean anything, one bite wouldn't mean that he'd get ill, and the bite didn't have to come from a plague flea.
Still, he got a bit worried....
 
The fan was now so clogged up with shit that it had stopped moving. How had he mistaken Talon for Grim.

Wishful thinking was the only thing Gabriel could think of. Now the situation was FUBARed up to the eyeballs. They had a man left out on his own to face the Trogs on the surface. They no good route of attack and they had no idea how many hostiles were in the immediate vicinity.

All Gabriel knew was that the longer they delayed, the likelier it was that Grim would have to fall back and be further from the manhole. The assassin assumed that the old bounty hunter would have made for the escape route once the noise of the grenades heralded his and Syphon's breakout.

What could they do?

A simple attack, coming up through manhole was very risky, and did not at all guarantee success. There could be a whole army of Trogs waiting for just such a move.

But how else could they get to Grim. For all they knew, this was the only point of access in this part of town. By the time they found another one, Grim might have been torn limb from limb. Gabriel doubted that Grim would make it easy for the Trogs, but he also knew that no lone person could fight off all those beasts up there.

This was all fucked up.

"We have no choice." He looked up at the manhole cover. "It's up, out and fight or it's stay and pray." He switched his gaze back down to the others, "And I don't feel too spiritual right now."

"Come on man. I know we just kicked ass up there, blasting through a whole bunch of those big fuckers, but we don't know how many of the bastards are up there. It's suicide." Syphon sounded angry rather than fearful and Gabriel understood.

Rogue was quiet but the grim determination in her face made Gabriel think she had reached the same conclusion.

"Gabe, I know you want to save Grim, but he could be dead already."

"Fuck that." cursed the assassin, the harsh obsenity rolling off his tongue with a wave of anger and bloodlust. "Syphon came back for me. Grim went out to make our escape easier. I'm not leaving up here."

"We're not leaving him up there. Grim is my friend and he's not dying if I can help it." Rogue was adamant. Talon eyed her for a moment, before nodding.

"Fair enough girl. My gun's here to help." They all looked at Syphon.

"Well shit." he smiled good humouredly, "Living forever would get real dull." Syphon hefted his rifle. "Let's blow those fuckers away."

"How are we going to do this?" asked Gabriel.

"I thought there was only one way." said Rogue, smiling despite the tension.

"If they're close, we're fucked." said Talon. Gabriel shook his head.

"If they're close I'll deal with them. Those Trogs are so big they're likely to get in each other's way. I can get in among them and wreak havoc. They'll be down before they know it. Then I'll need you to come in and blow their brains apart and finish them."

Rogue stepped forward and addressed the men,

"So we open the manhole. Talon goes first because he has an automatic weapon-

"Thanks." interjected the ex-slaver.

"Gabriel is second. Hoepfully Talon's bursts will have surprised the Trogs if they're up there. There should be a little space and if need be Gabriel can try to go hadn to hand with them. Then me, I'm third up. My rifle is a semi-auto and I can add a few quick, powerful shots to Talon's bursts. Syphon is next. His gun is powerful but there might not be time to work bolt. Better we establish a clear area for him to shoot from."

The others exchanged glances then nodded. Rogue's plan could work.

They all checked their weapons, then assembled by the ladder. Talon held his assault rifle tightly in one hand and reached for a rung. Gabriel stood behind him, his single-edged tanto held loosely in his mouth.

Talon ascended the ladder and paused, looking back at the others, seeing Gabriel just under him and the others below, tensed and waiting.

The ex-slaver reached up and placed his hand against the manhole cover. He knew that things were about to get very dangerous indeed, but Syphon had been right; who wants to live forever anyway?
 
OOC- Ok, Buffy and Gruug need something to get them going. Here goes. Will try to tie up lose ends. Also I think Gabriel's plan to climb up a ladder, move a heavy manhole cover, shoot and fight the three Trogs up top will probably end badly.

ICC-

Not for the first time Buffy looked at the tent were Blade was isolated. She was worried. About Blade, more about herself. She cursed herself for sleeping with him and now was becoming increasingly fearful that what ever Blade had caught, she was next.

Blade had been an interesting distraction. A regular partner, no. He was just to, well, dull for that. His habit for discipline, his constant going on about the Corps, and his pride in being a jarhead was all a bit much.

What kind of person took pride in being a jarhead?

Still, there was something about him. Most of it was bullshit. Sure. Hybernation sleep for over 150 years. Wake up in the desert to be attacked by mutants and be the only survivor, sure. What the hell were the US Marines anyway? Still there was something about Blade that was, well, not quite endearing, but curious. Perhaps he was crazy, but he played the part. The discipline, the history he would tell her, his experiences growing up were so alien, and yet so believable. She had started to believe him.

Foolishness.

Like Blade, Buffy had felt some isolation. Since wandering West she had become increasingly distant from her homeland, and increasingly in strange lands. People here had never heard of the people she knew, the places she had seen. It was if back home wasn't real. No one had past the great mountains, no one knew about the mutants.

Well, except Gruug.

Who would have expected running into a mutant this far from home?

She looked up from where she had been sitting, her tin of Beef-o-roni down, and saw the big mutant pacing around.

Unlike many from her home land she had once been part of a community were ghouls, humans and mutants lived together. Sure most of the mutants were senile and most of the ghouls were wasting away, but it had been a strangely peaceful time.

It had taken a bit of getting used to, but given a chance, the muties weren't as bad as she had expected.

Poor Gruug. Probably felt kind of lonely around these humies who probably didn't even know what a mutant was.

She looked back at Blade's quiet tent.

Well it would do no good to sit hear and mope about and get worried. Maybe Gruug might know a few things, maybe even something about Blade.

In any event, it was better than this.

She got up and went in search of Gruug.

___________________

Back in his tent, Ibis thought about Virgil and Pipboy, and about the plague.

But mostly he thought about the dreams.

Like a giant stone had been lifted.

But so tired now.

He went back to his bedding and laid down.

The dreams were so vivid. The river of blood, the demon.

And he knew.... he would have to tell them... the league

The burning of the very air.

A world turned cinder.

The beginning and the end.

The Alpha and the Omega.

Have to tell them..

He thought about Caleb, and the shroud...... he was still alive though.....

Ibis closed his eyes again, and his mind traveled elsewhere, to dreams still unfinished.
_____

Inside the sewar, knelt down on hands and knees, Rogue suddently had a bad feeling.

"Wait a second." She whispered. "They are waiting for us."

Gabriel whispered back. "What are you talking about?"

Rogue shook her head. "This is insane. We can go up there only one person at a time. As soon as we lift that damn manhole, they are going to be on us. Talon could barely lift it the first time. It moves, it will give a noise, and they will nab the first person to come up."

"You folks better decide this fast." Said Talon, now thinking how easily it would be for a Trog to lift the manhole cover.

"It's a fucking trap. We go up, they'll kill us." Said Rogue. "Look, this sewar line runs all under the town. Its got to come up near that fire house. We need to find another way."

______________________

Grim heard the big dog growl again, and put his hand down on the creatures head. The dog stilled, but he could feel it tense.

From his dark corner, Grim could see across the street. A Trog carrying what looked like a giant sledge hammer was walking down the street, peering into windows, searching. Everyonce and awhile he would stop and sniff the air, or pause as if to hear something.

When the creature turned to look in the direction of the firehouse, Grim's heart stilled. To move the rifle would be to attract attention.

But for sure the creature could see him.

Then it turned its head and took a few more steps in another direction.

But there were others coming down the street.

The Trogs were beginning to gather. The siren had called to them. If they had been made afraid, now they were curious.

Which meant he could not stay here much longer.

He moved back, deeper into the fire house.

From a hole in a broken window he looked over at the manhole cover.

Two more Trogs had gathered around the hole. They would occassionally stop, and he could hear them muttering to one another. Then they would get quiet, tilt their heads towards the manhole cover, nod.

They knew the others had gone down the manhole. Now they were just waiting for them to come up again.

Like rats, they were waiting for the game to come up.

Chances are the others would come too.

But there were other Trogs in the street. Even the ones wounded at the church were quickly healing from their wounds and were lumbering out.

Fuck, fuck fuck.

Suddenly the building shook. One of the Trogs had hit the wall with a club. He hit it again. Probably thinking the building itself had made the strange noise.

Cerebus began quietly growling again.

"Shhhhh" Grim whispered, pulling the dog further back.

Near the back he found hoses on the floor, which he followed down, into the basement, and then further down. Apparently these had been used as some kind of drainage, and if there drainage, there was a safe bet it led to the sewars.

Following it down he eventually came to a small hole in the ground. From the smell it was obvious that he had found an access to the sewars.

But the hole was too small for him. There would be little chance he could crawl through. But Cerebus might.

He pulled Cerebus, and whispered to it," Find the others."

The dog whined softly as Grim pushed it by its hindquarters into the tunnel. "Go on now." The big dog could hardly fit through the narrow crawl space, It was tight, but the dog could manage.

From inside he heard the dog whine again.

Grim whispered, "Shut up and fine them."

He could hear the dog's claws scrap the side of the tunnel, until the sound faded away.

Now I'm completely alone.

From above he could hear the creature continue to pound the walls with its club.

I need to get out of here.

OCC- I think we should go for a stealthy way out.
 
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