IC- Chapter Three: Lone Wanderers

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Two minutes before the explosion.

Gabriel could not believe he had taken a wrong turn. He was sure he was following the source of the noises he assumed were his companions. He now stood beside a large grill from the air duct system. He listened and heard the amplified noises drifting through the system. They must be coming from all over the complex. Fantastic. He could hear Rogue say something, and he cursed.

"Confused by a fucking ventilation system!" he shouted in one of his more verbose moments. He had to warn the others, he had too... gunfire?

It filtered strongly through the air duct, sounding as if it was close by, but moving away from the grill, Gabriel thought he could hear the true origin of the noises. Back the way he came.

He turned and began to run toward the main intersection. He was going to be too late, wasn't he. His mind reeled at his own ineptitude. If it didn't involve killing someone, he could fuck it up. What use is being a great fighter if you can't protect the things you care about from anything other than physical violence. Men like Gabriel were needed in times of trouble, but he was beginning to wish he could be useful in other ways. He felt so limited. A feeling of impotence that had never touched him before. He had always known he was the best. He now realised that was because he'd only done violent things in his lifetime. His talent for death had carried him through. He was a one trick pony.

Fuck that!

Why was he thinking these things now? He had more important things to worry about.

Running hard, Gabriel joined the main corridor and headed for the control room.

"Come on, we have to move!" the assassin heard the loud, authoritative voice loud and clear and his heart rejoiced. He watched as the others poured into the tunnel and charged towards the exit.

Gabriel was only a hundred yards or so behind them and he pushed ahead with renewed vigour. He whipped by the intersection, gaining on his fleeing friends. A noise grabbed his attention as he passed the control room tunnel but he was moving too fast and by the time he turned his head, he only saw a blur then he was past the intersection. He didn't care, the others were going to make it and that meant he hadn't failed.

A worry clicking, mechanical sound made him push harder. He realised systems were engaging nearby the exit and he knew he had to get out now. Not just the 'now' he'd been thinking of a few minutes ago. This meant NOW!

Pushing every muscle in his body, he ran, reached the steps, charged up them, heard a terrible crack and them a whooshing noise as the explosives ignited and prepared to detonate, adn threw himself forward. The force of the explosion lifted higher than he expected and he crashed to ground some fifteen feet from the entrance.

"Close one, lad." commented Grim, his face passive.

Gabriel lay on his back, welcoming the feel of sunlight on his face. Checking his sunglasses, he sat up and lifted a hand to the bounty-hunter. Grim grabbed his wrist and hauled Gabriel to his feet.

"It's always close." both men understood. Survival always hangs by a thread. WE make it by the skin of are teeth and it's never any different.
 
after the blast

The ground heaved with the explosion, rising from the ground as the charges exploded in sequence through the entrance tunnels. Then the walls broke and the tunnel collapsed in a cloud of dust and soot. The ground collapsed and sank to fill the cave which was know buried and blocked by tons of sand and rock.

The others slowly got to their feet, catching their breath, looking around to see if they had all made it.

Then they noted that but for a single wagon, the caravan had gone. On the last wagon sat Ibis, still scratching the ear of his dog. Next to him a solitary guard, a tall man with a buzz cut, training the M-60 on the group of survivors.

Ibis looked up at the man. “It’s ok. They’re friends.”

The man just grunted, then eased the hog down, picked up his M-16 and got down, canteens of water in hand, offering it to the others.

Slowly they got to their feet.

“What happened to the others,” Asked Grim.

“They left as soon as they found out about the charges. Too dangerous. Reed had everyone moving. Hook is up on point. But he said I could stay and wait for you.”

Grim nodded, now noticing a new face among the crowd, breathing hard and next to Talon.

“And who might you be?” Grim asked.

“Call me Nat.” said the dark skinned girl.

“I found her down by the platform, or actually she found me and saved my life. Seems she was abducted by the soldiers below and brought along.” Explained Talon. “She told me the place was trapped.”

“The man I ran into said the same thing. Apparently we blew their cover when we ran into their little operation.” Said Rogue. “He was half scared out of his wits. Said something about Janissaries.”

“Seems that they were after fixing the train station.” Explained Virgil. “ I didn’t have time to go over everything but it all looked pretty beat up, but security was tight. Someone else was listening and tripped the alarm on us. Probably waiting to see what the danger was, and as soon as they had it figured that it wasn’t just those half crazed monsters, they decided to blow it.”

Jim was eyeing the girl. What were they doing bring a prostitute on a secret mission? But she was fine looking.

“So who are the Janissaries?” Asked Gabriel. “I never got briefed on them from the Slayers.”

“Janissaries are slave soldiers.” Talon explained. “Fury used to be one before she bought her freedom and Jeeva picked her up around Big Easy. Big Easy is a trade center East of here, where a lot of the slavers deliver meat.”

“You’re a slaver?” Asked Nat, suddenly startled.

Talon looked at here, embarrassed. “I used to be, yeah. But not any more.” He turned back to the others, “Anyway, the Janissary are raised from childhood to be soldiers and have a reputation for being very loyal, very fierce and highly disciplined. They also have high quality weapons. Don’t know what they were doing here though.”

“They fight for the League.” Explained Nat, now speaking to the others. “The League of Eastern Vaults. Basically it’s a group of Vault that joined up into some kind of political arrangement after the war. They preach the gospel unity. Non-believers ain’t welcome. Don’t know how many vaults, but they dominate their area, and anyone that can’t trace their lineage to a Vault is second class citizen or lower class citizen, which is another way of saying slave. I know, I used to be one.” She said, looking down.

“Well friends,” Said Ibis, breaking into the conversation. “ I can see we have a lot to talk about, but for now I reckon we get moving. The distance between us and the caravan is growing and it will be dark soon. It might be prophecy that brings me here, but it ain’t prophecy that makes it more dangerous.”

Jim nodded, “Yes, and besides, chances are them things below have other access points around here, and they come out at night.”

Talon looked over at the sky. “Best we go.”

The small group each drank their fill and followed Ibis, east, after the distant caravan.
 
OOC- Welsh, you might want to be more lenient on the “five day kill off rule”. We have as little people as it is and Jacen has already told me he’s leaving. I’m certain that newcomers will be balked if they’re pressured into posting.

IC-

I am become Death, thought the assassin. I am Death incarnate and my realm retains all.

These grim ideologies rolled about the shadowed figure’s head as he crept and crawled about the borders of the Blade camp in Grey Cliffs. The assassin’s world was in killing and he wore his profession openly; a slim and short-bladed tanto hung in its sheath along his belt. And he was filled with pride as he hid amidst the shadows because he was doing justice to his profession.

The assassin was dressed in a black thermal bodysuit and an executioner’s hood covered his face. He wore no shoes or boots because they made too much noise, especially in the rustic hills and deserts around Grey Cliffs. Instead, he wore soft slippers made with the same thin material as his bodysuit. Besides the oriental sword, his only weapon was his hands and his wit.

As he was taught by his organization, the assassin walked hunched over. He walked at angle so there would be less of him to be spotted. He moved in slow and languid jerks, so that if he were spotted, he would be overlooked as a waving branch. The dark coal color of his clothes merged with the night shadows. It was cold out, but the thermals kept him warm. He held his breath, not wishing for a wisp of his frozen breath to give him away.

Getting as this close to the Blade camp was hard. On his journey, he had caught telltale glimpses of Blade masks and rifles hidden amidst the trees. The guerrillas hide in an effective perimeter that covered most of the borders despite their numbers. If the assassin had tried to creep up and attack the hiding Blades instead of walking around them, he would surely be dead. But that wasn’t his mission. The Blades were good, but he was better.

Even before getting to the camp, he had encounter scores more of problems. The Others were getting closer. Their caravan wagons traveled openly along the roads. He assumed that there was a camp nearby. That would arise…difficulties, especially when the League was busy working the same area. After all, the League was still transporting the forty captured Blade elders to their own camp. It would be dire luck if the Others and the League met in a chance encounter too soon.

But for now, the Others were simply tertiary targets. The League had sent him to break Grey Cliffs to their will. It was crucial that the town be under the control. Not only did it contain still abundant wells of petroleum, but also it was also imperative that they control the area in the ensuring battle. And to do that, the Blades would have to be dealt with.

Originally, it was planned for the League to send the forty Blade elders they had captured and threaten to execute them in front of Grey Cliffs. Blade honor dictated that the camp ensure the welfare of their elders. There was no doubt that they would foolishly attempt to liberate their captured brothers. And once they charged, the recoilless rifle would deal with the Blade elders and the camp in one fell swoop.

But that plan had been scrapped. Somehow, the Blades had captured the wagon carrying the recoilless rifle. And the caravan carrying the Blade elders were scattered all over the place due to delays and harsh weather. The caravan wagons, some carrying only one elder, were still scrambling to get to the rendezvous. They would be easy game, especially with the Others getting ready to make camp and with the Blade guerrillas hindering their path.

So another weapon was required to coerce the Blades. Him. The assassin, Death incarnate. Often times, the easiest solution was a knife stuck between two ribs and entering the heart. In the past, assassins were the catalyst that forced change. When that bastard Mark Chapman killed off John Lennon, he also killed and ended an era. When Lee Harvey Oswald fired upon Kennedy’s car with his cheap Italian rifle, he sent an entire nation into mourning.

Yes, the assassin has true power because his god is Death and It answers his prayers.

The assassin sneaked up closer to the base of Grey Cliffs. The town is situated underneath and overhanging cliff. The only entrance to the town besides and aerial drop were the rugged hills leading up to the town. And these hills were stubbornly covered by the Blades.

Part of the assassin’s mission was to gather information. He noted the Blade’s defenses with a photographic memory. He counted at least twenty rows of trenches leading up to the inclined hills. Scattered amidst the flat ground leading up to the hills were jagged and crippling caltrops, hidden by bushes and brush. At the top of the hill were five pillboxes. The assassin noted the peaking barrels of two M-60 machineguns popping out of each pillbox opening. Around the pillboxes were the mortar tubes and the recoilless rifle.

This one-way pass would be a death trap for any invading army. Fortunately, an assassin would have very little problems.

He avoided the brush of caltrops and jumped into one of the trenches. Carefully, he peered over the dirt opening and only saw one Blade going over the artillery. He was just a short man and he had a heavy plaster cast on his arm anyway. The assassin would have to deal with him.

He snaked up and tumbled to the next trench. The sky was exceptionally dark, with sulfurous clouds covering the stars. Only one lantern at the top of the hill provided illumination. Fortunately, the sole Blade was standing too close to the light and any sudden movement was lost. The assassin used this to his advantage.

Carefully, timing his movements when the Blade looked away, he crept up the next fifteen trenches until he was but several feet away from the vanguard. The assassin searched the trench until he found a good-sized hunk of rock. He palmed it and stood up slowly.

The Blade, hunched over a mortar tube, looked up at the assassin in shock. His name was Abel, the only experienced Blade who had decided to stay behind due to his injury. He caught sight of the figure dressed completely in black and saw the sheath sword on his hip. The Blade knew the assassin’s intentions and he went for his pistol.

Unfortunately, Abel attempted to draw his gun with his right hand, which was covered in a cast. He cursed as the plaster knocked his gun out of his holster and onto the ground. He knew that his only chance was gone.

From underneath the executioner’s hood, the assassin grinned. He cocked back the hand holding the rock and flung it in a sharp pitch. The rock soared and hit the lantern, causing the glass to shatter and the oil to drip out. With his light source gone, Abel was blind.

Then the assassin, whose eyes adjusted instantaneously to the dark, hurdled over the trenches and ran towards the basic outline of the Blade. He circumvented towards the Blade’s side and then executed a jump-kick. His feet connected solidly against the short Blade’s head and Abel collapsed.

The assassin, panting hard, pulled the tanto free from its sheath. The metallic steel whisked off the scabbard’s opening with a sharp chiming sound. The three-foot blade glistened in the starlight as he advanced on the fallen Blade.

He knelt next to the comatose warrior and tugging his hair up, exposing the neck. The assassin would have cut the Abel’s throat had it not been for the footsteps coming towards him. A figure holding a lantern was calling out the downed Blade’s name.

The assassin quickly sheathed his sword, not wishing for the steel glint to give himself away. He disappeared into the crevice of the cliffs, just behind Abel’s body.

The young Blade who came to check on Abel knew something was wrong. Despite his youth, he was still a Blade and a Blade was trained to know danger. The assassin had expected the youth to immediately check on the health of the comatose body in front of him. Instead, the Blade lowered the lantern and drew his pistol. He edged along the side of the cliff face so that his back would not be exposed.

The assassin merely improvised. The boy was coming closer to his position along the cliff’s crevice. Fortunately, his pistol he was holding was arm’s length away and pointed directly at the assassin.

The young Blade got close enough to the crevice, the assassin leapt out. Before the boy could pull the trigger of the gun, the assassin caught his wrist and slammed his hand against the rock side, causing the gun to tumble. Still holding the boy’s other hand, he drew the tanto with his free hand.

The youth saw what was coming and head butted the assassin in the stomach. The assassin clenched his abdominal muscles at the last moment and absorbed the blow. His sword was still raised up in the air and, having no time to reverse it, he brought it down hilt-first onto the youth’s head. The boy collapsed, knocked out by the makeshift cudgel.

The assassin did not have time to slice both Blades’ throats. There were too many distractions. Soon, the rest of the camp would be alerted if he did not act quickly. With the tanto in hand, he entered the Blade encampment.

The camp was located off to the side of the hill battlements, along another rising incline. Multiple camps were pitched along the double door gates of the town. Behind the camps, there were simple homes and establishments built alongside the cliff in the Navajo fashion. The assassin ignored the town and the obstacle of the gates. The townspeople could not hide from Death for long.

He walked easily amidst the tents. With most of the Blades outside of Grey Cliffs and hiding in the bushes, the camp was left undefended. He slipped silently into a tent with the widest canopy. There, his quarry waited within.

He parted the thin flaps of the tent to the side, brushing them back. Even the dust was undisturbed by his steps, he moved so softly. Inside the spacious tent, one old Blade was hunched over a table covered in maps. The Blade elder’s back was exposed to him.

Silently, he raised the tanto and walked towards the oblivious old man. He kept the blade at an angle, the tip of the sword pointed at the neck. It would be a quick and paralyzing thrust to the throat followed by a swipe that would cleanly sever the head.

The assassin moved closer, closer, closer…

Then something crashed into him from behind and he hissed in surprise.

Dante heard the hiss of surprise and immediately whirled around. He caught sight of a tall man dressed in black with an oriental sword in hand. Behind the assassin, the Blade, Abel, had his plastered forearm wrapped around the shadowed man’s throat.

“Danger, Elder!” cried Abel as he struggled with the assassin. A large lump was forming on his forehead, signs of an earlier encounter with the assassin.

Dante picked up his chair and considered hitting the assassin over the head with it. But his Blade warrior was too entangled with the stranger and he could not risk incapacitating his man. Instead, he ran to the opening of his tent and yelled, “Rally! Rally! Assassin in the camp!”

The assassin heard a flurry of footsteps coming towards the tent and he hissed again. He knew he would be killed but he had to finish the mission before that. In the midst of the struggle with the short Blade, he kept his hand wrapped firmly around the tanto. The Blade was slowly choking him but he was not alarmed. With a fierce determination, he stuck his elbow between the Blade’s shoulder and, using that as leverage, pushed the short man off him. Abel tumbled to the ground once more.

The assassin twirled his sword experimentally and advanced on his target. Dante turned around from the entrance of the tent and searched his quarters for a weapon. But his gun and even his ceremonial blade were out of arm’s reach. He considered running away but then thought better of it. The assassin would easily run him down before he could summon aid. Besides, it was better to face danger headlong.

The assassin quickly closed off the distance between the elder. While he was moving, he raised the Blade overhead. Dante braced himself, ready to accept the blow on the arm or shoulder as the sword lowered.

But Abel, down but not out, had already recovered in time. Quickly, he brought himself between the descending Blade and his elder, raising his plastered arm. The assassin’s tonto imbedded harmlessly into the plaster cast with a dull thunk. He had brought down the sword with such force that he lost grip of it and fell, off balance.

Abel unceremoniously pushed Dante behind him and hauled the sword out of his cast. On the floor, the assassin rolled away from the Blade. But Abel reacted quickly and brutally pinned him to the spot by slamming his boot onto the assassin’s throat. The shadowed man’s body was wracked with spasms of pain as the vertebrates in his neck cracked, paralyzing him. He was still conscious when Abel removed his boot and slit his throat with the assassin’s own weapon.

By this time, the rest of the Blades, including the knocked out youth, had made it to the camp with weapons in arm. But all they saw was Abel bending over the dead assassin’s body with a bloody sword in hand. They crowded around the assassin.

Dante pushed himself into the crowd, bending over the assassin. He looked over at Abel who was cradling his head and wincing in pain. “Are you injured?” he asked.

Abel shook his head and then winced at the effort. “No, but I’ve got a ringing headache. The bastard jump-kicked me in the head.” The short Blade kicked the corpse in disgust.

To the assembled Blade’s surprise, something underneath the folds of the assassin’s clothes beeped. The four youths jumped back in surprise, swinging their guns at the corpse. They feared that either the assassin had wringed himself with an explosive or, giving into childish fear, he had reanimated himself from the dead.

Dante reached underneath the assassin’s thermal suit and withdrew a handheld device consisting of a screen, dials, and a miniature keypad. Emblazoned on its top in bold, yellow font was the word: PIPBoy.

The elder had limited knowledge with high-tech but he could still get it working. An envelope icon was blinking in the corner along with the words: NEW MESSAGE RECEIVED.

Dante opened the message and scrolled through its contents. It said:

SUBJECT: RE:MISSION
FROM: S-HQ
TIME: 2045

TRANSMISSION ENCODED…DECRYPTING…DECRYPTING…DONE
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
TARGET AQUISTION COMPLETED. LOCATED NEAR OUTSKIRTS OF GREY CLIFFS. ENCOUNTERED CARAVAN WAGONS. POSSIBLY THE ENEMY. BLADE GUERRILLAS SPOTTED ALONG PATH. LIMTED PERSONNEL SIGHTED INSIDE CAMP ITSELF. HEADCOUNT IS SIX MEN. PERMISSION TO ENGAGE?
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
permission granted. execute designated target first; consider all else as tertiary. gather information on base defense as secondary objective. once target is eliminated, attempt to sabotage as many defenses as possible. personal welfare is minor.

do not fail the league, nightlbade.

END OF TRANSMISSION…

Dante turned off the PIPBoy and looked over at Abel. He stared at the assassin’s corpse inside his camp.

“This man was a Slayer,” he announced to his Blades.
 
"We'd better go then,” Jim said, and with that he climbed back on Ibis's cart and manned the M60.
He swept the gun from side to side while checking the perimeter.
It was a big gun, and although he preferred small guns Jim could handle it like a pro.

"How far are the others ahead?" Rogue asked.

"Not so far," said Ibis, "We'll catch up with them when they stop for the night"

"I should look after your leg before we head out Rogue" Ibis said
"If I wait 'till tonight it could get infected, and we don't want that."

"Who put that bandage around your leg?" "That's done pretty good"

"I did it," Jim responded, still looking at the horizon. "

"I didn't foresee a doctor in you Jim," Ibis said.

"Well, I guess visions don't cover every little thing" Jim responded and left it at that.


After taking his doctors bag out of the cart, Ibis went to work on Rogue's leg.
He worked quickly and was soon finished.

"I suggest you climb up on the cart and wait a day or two before walking next to it again" Ibis said.
"If anybody bothers you about it when we rejoin the caravan, say it doctor's orders"

The others gathered around the cart and the group set out after the caravan.
The track the caravan had left behind was easy to follow and they would only have to look out when darkness sets in...

OCC Like I PM'd to all of you, after friday I won't be able to post for some time. I WILL BE BACK THOUGH.
 
On the road

OOC_ Nice posts folks. Liked what you did with the assassin Gunslinger and a nice follow up Jacin.

We will miss you while you're gone and look forward to your return. Don't worry. Jim won't get whacked.

Regarding the 5 day rule- I agree with Gunslinger, it will probably not be utilized too quickly. Indeed, no one has suffered terminal removal, although two characters have disappeared. Posted on this on OCC.

____________
ICC-

Grim moved out on point, practicing some of the skills taught by McReady. But he also wanted to be alone. For the first time in days he felt hunger and didn't like the implications of it. He had also seen Ibis watching him, and was sure Ibis knew.

I have to eat, he thought. He could feel the pains in his belly, his appetite now alive. And still he dreaded the thought of it.

He tried to focus on the trail, clear enough that anyone could follow it. Tried to keep a fast pace. Occassionally looking up at the horizon, aware that the sun was going down.

"Will we make it?" Asked Talon, at his side.

Grim hadn't heard the ex-slaver come up.

"Not sure. I am guessing not until after dark." He said.

"The further we get away then the better." Said Talon. "With luck those freaking things all died in the blast or with the gas."

"I hope so. But you know Gimmers, anything that can survive down there for as long as they have damn superior survival instincts. "

Talon said nothing, both men thinking about the danger of tunnels and other shafts coming up from the line below.

"What's with the girl?" Grim asked.

"I found her. She saved my life." Talon said.

"That's it?"

"That's about all I know. For sure they were Janissaries though. I think they abducted her and brought them with her and they weren't planning on taking her back." Said the Borderman.

"So you figured on taking care of her, hunh?" Asked Grim, a sly smile.

"Well its not like I wanted to. She kind of picked me."

"But sounds like she's not keen on the slaver profession." Said Grim.

"I'm used to it." Said Talon. Since taking the caravan, Talon had suffered the scorn most slavers suffer from normal folk.

"Well, can you blame them? People don't like thinking that they ain't nothing but commerce." Said Grim. "ANd I figure she's more a victim than most."

"I didn't have much choice in this business either, but your're right. I reckon it's something I'll have to get past." Said the young man.

"It's a good place to start, and there ain't no better time then the present I figure." Said the older bounty hunter.

Behind them, Jim kept a watch over the landscape. Just one, just one of those little fuckers and I'll cut it in half. The feeling of the M-60 gave him a sense of empowerment, of superiority.

But even Jim knew that it would get dark soon.

The man with the buzz cut and the automatic rifle had moved off to the right side, looking for access tunnels and vents.

"Be careful, they pumped the place full of poison gas." Said Gabriel, who had taken a similar position on the other flank.

Virgil remained behind, tinkering with some of the mechanical bits he had found.

Ibis was quiet on the reigns of the Brahman, occassionally saying something comforting to his bulls and singing a song softly to himself. Cerebus was off, hunting for small game or engaging his curiousity.

Rogue, felt the sharpness of the pain as the painkillers wore off. Still it was good to be off her feet for a change. She kept her rifle ready, hoping to snare some small game. She tagged a Jackelhare with her rifle to the left, and Gabriel went out to bring it back. He smiled at her and waved.

Rogue smiled to herself, and thought about the gold chain around her neck, and of the borderman who had given it to her.

"He's cute." Said the girl, Nat. The voice shook Rogue awake. ""I'm Natalie, but call me Nat."

"I'm sorry, who?" Asked Rogue. "Oh and call me Rogue."

"That one. The man in black with those cold blue eyes." Said Nat. She was walking next to the cart, also carrying her rifle, although she hadn't fired it yet.

"Oh that's Gabriel, and yes, he is good looking." Said Rogue.

"It's nice to have a good looking man around. Is he yours?" She asked.

"What, Gabriel. No I am not with him." Said Rogue.

"Really, well that's a shame for you then. Who you with?" Asked Nat. "Is it Talon, or maybe its the pale older fellow."

Natalie had not yet gotten to know the others, so it was natural to ask. As one the only other girl, she was probably looking to Rogue for some friendship. Ibis paused in his singing to listen, and smiled a bit, eaves dropping on the conversation with the girls.

"No, I barely know Talon. He's not really my type. And the pale fellow is Grim, and he's, well, he's a bit old for me. So I guess I'm with no one I suppose." Said Rogue.

"Not with anyone? I see, so you also make money the old way? And its better not to have attachments, yes? Sometimes its better a girl looks out for herself, if she's in our business." Said Nat, pleasantly and quickly, like an old friend chatting fast to make up for lost time.

"What?" Asked Rogue, Not in our business? "No, I don't fuck for money, if that's your suggestion, and yes I can look out for myself."

She regretted that it came out so sharp.

"Oh," Said Nat. "Didn't mean to be rude. I just thought, well, you're a good looking one, you know. And it's a good way to make a living." She sounded apologetic and sincere.

Rogue eyed the girl, the way that women often eye each other. She was about average height, strong and muscular. Not really curvacious, in fact there seemed to be little if any extra body fat on her body. Rather, she was athletic and strong. But it was in her face and eyes. Rogue had never seen anyone that looked quite like Natalie. Perhaps that's what made her so exotic.

"Well thanks, I think. But I usually make my living as a caravan guard."

"Bet them caravan men get fresh with you, though?" Said Nat.

Rogue looked down at the Natalie sharply. In fact, none of the caravan men had approached her. Not a single one. ANd that was unusual. Never had Rogue not been propositioned before, and had actually gotten to take such propositions for granted. But on this trip there had been none, zero, zilch. It was like Rogue was just another one of the guys. And that was strange.

"Actually there have been no propositions." Said Rogue, slowly. Thinking how strange that was.

"Really? So no propositions, you ain't with anyone? No one's getting fresh with ya, and you don't work it? Well, I guess if it suits you. Can I ask you. Don't you like it or do you like girls?"

When Rogue didn't respond immediately, Nat continued, "Cause if you like girls, and you get lonely..."

"Thanks for your offer, but no." Said Rogue.

"Hey a bucks a buck, I say. What ever thrills ya. Just as long as the money is good." Said Nat, pleasantly. "But its not for everyone, you know, working on your back. and I think you need to enjoy the work or at least learn to."

"Actually I think I have someone back in Tabis." Said Rogue.

"Ah, well, that explains it, a regular guy." Said Nat

"Well we just met." Thinking of Ferris.

"Even better, less complicated that way." Said Nat, she smiled up at Rogue, and Rogue could see a sly cheerfulness and why many men might find her attractive.

Rogue also noticed that Jim was smirking. She smacked him in the leg.

"So what about you?" Rogue asked Nat. "What will you do know?"

"Me? Well, I guess I got a new lease on life. They were going to kill me for sure, so its a good thing that Talon came. Even if he's one of those bastard slavers." Nat said, thinking about this for the first time now.

"He's not so bad really. For a slaver." Said Rogue, trying to be comforting.

"For a slaver, yes. But there's always that isn't it." Said Nat. "Besides he's a man, and like all men, he's going to want to tell me what's what, what I can and can't do, and I doubt he'll like how I make my way."

"Can you blame him?" Said Rogue.

Nat paused before speaking. "I don't know much about love or romance anymore, Rogue. It's the damn slavers."

"If your're not from these parts, are you from, what was it, the League? Or were you brought there?"

"Captured. My people had a fish farm on an island, a beautiful place, far to the South. not like this. The water there is blue, can you imagine, and you can see deep underneath. It's a good place and no one ever really bothered us. But pirates came and picked me up, brought me to the League, and I got bought up."

"What happened to your family?"

Nat shrugged her shoulders, "Never seen 'em. I was off shore, moving cargo from our home to another island when the pirates got me. A long trip that was, and the pirates, they were, well, they were rough." Nat didn't want to go into details. Rogue could understand.

"But they thought my look might earn a fair penny, and they were right. Sold me, they did, to the House of Bourbon. That was four years ago. Had my own place, and that's were I got picked." She said.

"The House of Bourbon is at Big Easy?" Asked Rogue.

"Aye, and the edge of League territory."

"Well you're with us now, and I guess that's safe." Said Rogue.

"If only it was true, sister." Said Nat. "So are there many caravan men?"

OOC-
I hope you folks don't mind Nat. I figured she might be an interesting insight into the League and also could be an interesting NPC. If she's not working for us, I can get rid of her.
Just let me know.
 
Gabriel trudged through the sand. He glance back over at the cart and saw Ibis cooing to the bulls, keeping them focused in the distracting heat. On the cart he also noticed Rogue and he felt angry when he saw her injured leg. He had observed the wound before they got underway again but he was angry with himself that he wasn't there to protect her. Added to that, the cool, rational Slayer part of him rejected the whole idea of worrying about the others. He needed to keep his mind focused.

his father had ordered him to observe, so he would observe. Objectively and without bias.

Bullshit. He wasn't a robot, despite Control's wishes.

Looking back at the cart, he could see the shapely woman talking to Rogue. She aroused the simple animal side of him. She was...sexual, sensual. Her whole appearance screamed sex. Gabriel felt uncomfortable looking at her. He felt dirty. He had never met anyone like her. They don't mind promiscuity in the Slayers, it keeps the troopers happy, but sexuality had never been an important part of any Slayer's life. This woman wore like a second skin. It attracted and repelled Gabriel at the same time. He wanted her. All men would, but this feeling of want, of need was alien to his independent nature.

Love? Sex? fear? anger?

All these emotions. He used to be a machine. A ruthless warrior. The Ice Killer.

What was happening to him. He didn't know but he knew it was interacting with all these people. Before his approach had always been impersonal and clean. He searched, he found, he killed. He had never joined the natives, as it were.

Strange. The weight of killing lay on him like decades. He had the eyes of an old man.

He was experienced in the ways of death, but he had really experienced nothing. For the first time in years, he felt young. It was good, but it wasn't. His strength came from his selflessness. He was a killer. He killed. Maybe he would live, maybe he would not. He would always try to survive but that was never the most important thing. All Nightblades were alike. They lived for the kill. Each was, in theory, prepared to die, as long as their mission was completed.

He had thought he was like that. A dedicated killer. A master assassin. No man was safe from his deadly skills. Maybe that was still true. he knew he was a man to be reckoned with. More dangerous than any man his age. Caleb and Grim were honed by experience but Gabriel was a perfectly created weapon of a man. Bred for killing, trained to spill blood. A true slayer.

But did any of that matter now. He was faster, stronger, better but at any moment he could freeze, fearing death. It was that fear that killed most men. If they had remained calm and concentrated they might have lived. But they cared about losing their lives and the nervousness and fear dulled their reflexes, made their movements jerky.

Would that happen to him? Gabriel had always thought it impossible. He was cold, emotionless, implacable. He was as Death himself. Was he still? Could he be?

He didn't know exactly why, he didn't know why it mattered so much to him now, what had changed, or whether it was madness.

But Gabriel Wolf wanted to live.
 
The sun was setting

The guard had not given his name to the others, but had merely taken a position on the flank and remained unobtrusive. When possible, he would check out any depressions in the ground, and what he found, he didn't like. There were holes, everywhere. Like prairie dogs havens, tunnels connected to multiple holes.

He would pass one, stop, listen for movement, then move on to the other.

Yes, they were there.

"I suggest we move this along people. Daylights wasting." He called over.

Gabriel, moving along the left, hadn't seen the networks of tunnels. The ground he walked was rocky and uneven, covered over in parts by ancient concrete so thick it kept out any underlying vegetation.

Grim and Talon, moving ahead on the trail hadn't noticed the networks either. Little did they know but they were traveling over an ancient interstate. The highway was buried under an accumulation of dirt and dust over the many years since its intended use had vanished. Now it looked like normal earth.

Jim swung the 60 around to the left, were the buzz cut guard was probing with an automatic rifle tipped with a bayonet. Nat unslung her rifle, crouched and peered through a scope, eyeing the horizon, looking for threats. The girl's a hard one, thought Rogue.

Through Rogue's own sight she could see nothing, at first. She peeked out, to glance at the sun. Low on the horizon now and still no caravan. Then she peeked, and then, yes, she could see, in the distance. Caves, tunnels. ANd in the darkness....

"Ibis can you move this thing along."

But Ibis needed no instruction, his voice becoming harder and urging his bulls on.

Grim also looked at the setting sun. "Folks better we close this up, and move it. Sun is setting."

In the tunnels below, movement.
 
ICC-

The others followed Grims words and moved in closer to Ibis's cart. Each sticking to their side, they formed a small tight circle in defence around the small cart.

The sun was disappearing over the horizon, natural light disappearing with it. It wouldn't be long before darkness came brining the residents of the wastes with it in search of a meal.

Using her scope, Rogue continued to scout around in the distance. She could make out some large rock formations towering high out of the desert.
There was little light to go by yet she could still make out the murky entrances carved into the hard rock.

Caves she thought to her self.

Dark, damp and the home to some of the wastes most vile and dangerous creatures. Deathclaws, Rad scorpions, rats so damn big they made even the most impressive dogs look like puppy's and these were just the ones she knew about. God only know's what else lived deep in the gloom

Unfortunately Rogue didn't have a good track record with caves. The last one she frequented nearly got her killed. She remembered the first one she ever went into as well.

It was back when she had just joined the caravan. She was very young and inexperienced in life in the wastes.

It was only supposed to be a quick in and out to go looking for Jess, a dumb lost brahmin.

he remembered the caravan chiefs words well.

"you five, check that cave and make sure Jess didn't wander in there."

Yes that was what the caravan chief had said!

Oh yes It sounded so simple, 40 minutes later 2 and a half of the five that went in reappeared with Jess, well what was left of Jess anyway.

Rogue stood her rifle down besides her.

Jim was manning the M-60 with quite some determination. God help anything that passed into his sights without permission. Jim smiled at Rogue as he spun the large gun round covering all fronts.

The rest had moved up close to the cart reducing the chance of anything penetrating the defenses if they were to get bumped.

Grim and Talon were leading the way up front. They talked about somthing but Rogue couldn't make anyhting out.

“Looks like there some rocky caves dead ahead.” Shouted Rogue. Not really to anyone but she felt that was an important enough point to make.

“Keep a good look out, if something even as much as sniffs in our direction I wannna know about it.” Grim came back.

Meanwhile the guard down the flank continued to check as many holes as possible while keeping up with the cart.

He didn’t say anything but he was an experienced guy in the wastes and had seen these wholes and underground systems before.

He continued to check each one, stopping for only a few seconds to listen and check around the entrance before passing to the next.
From what he could see the network was big and expanded for some way.

He passed to the next whole and bent down into the dust. Peering at the tracks which covered the entrance and examining them, they were fresh.

“Shit.” He cursed to him self. He stood up and looked to the skies. Darkness was creeping in fast. They wouldn’t have much time now.
 
The Caravan hold up

OOC- Ok having set up Prairie dogs last night, I can't resist them and their evil predators. Also this opens up a possibility for the Buffy character (who is pictured near the end) and maybe one or two other possible new players. Remember if you are interested in playing, post your character.

ICC- Earlier in that day, McReady had gone ahead while the others poked around the train station. As usual Thing 2 and Thing 1 had been out at the furthest point so when they came racing back, he knew it was bad news.

McReady had send word back via Thing 1 to Reed and Hook. The message was simple, "Move the fuck up and fast!" So Reed had hurried the caravan ahead. The next rest station was still in the distance and they would have to hurry to make it before dark.

Meanwhile Mc Ready had move ahead, investigating the warren of tunnels, knowing what it meant. He watched the tracks. Prairie Dogs.

Prairie dogs were migratory, moving to an area in search of prey or in flight of moonfrogs. They would burrow deep in a complex set of tunnels and occassionally pull a Brahma or a man in. While the individual dog was usually to shy, packs could be predatory. They hadn't been here last time McReady had done the Grey Cliffs route, but that was months ago, before the raiders had blocked up Tabis. That a pack of dogs had moved in weren't that big a surprise, nor that big a danger.

What worried McReady more were the frogs.

The warren stretched for about two miles against the road and then faded away. On the otherside, the rocky ground was no good for burrows so the brahma herd,could be moved along the more leveled areas of the rocky ground while the carts stuck to the road.

McReady had sent Thing 2 to mark the beginning of the warren, while he waited at the far end. Through his deer rifle sight he could make out the doom of the rest station ahead.

If the caravan moved fast, they would make it without undue risk. But the those behind, well that was another story.

Reed, when he reached the beginning of the warren, posted guards at the end of the warren and the men had been careful to keep the brahma herd from wandering into soft ground. The carts, using the road, had no troubles. Quickly, the caravan man had moved through the danger area, and finally the last cart, with Hook, had pasted.

McReady, usually at the head of the column had delayed, sending his two scouts ahead. "What about the others?" He asked Hook.

"Still back there. Told them an hour and then to follow." Said Hook.

McReady had nodded, solemnly. There was always a risk of being left behind. He had continued to scout the area between the warren and the rest stop.

The rest station had been a doomed conference center in a past life, and still had a sign that said "Tricky Dick's Conference and Concert Hall." The building had survived the years, its domed shell unbroked, if cracked, from the elements. Once it had sheltered a three ring circus under its doomed ceiling. It might have made an excellent shelter for the beginning of a town. But there wasn't enough grass for Brahma, and the acid rains seemed to fall on the area with greater frequency. With no agriculture on which to build a community, it had become a seldom used trading post that could barely get by and what little commerce had come through.

McReady was the last of the caravaners to come in. Waiting for him were Hook and Reed.

"It ain't right. I think we should send someone out there." He said to the caravan master and the Borderman.

"I'll go back." Said Hook angrily. He hadn't liked the idea of investigating the tunnel and looked at this as just added aggrevation, but the kind of annoyance that came when training new bordermen in the field.

Reed had thought that a foolish idea and looked at both with annoyance. "No, you will not. Your loyaties are with the caravan, not with stragglers. Hook, you will not leave us. If we lose you, than we have no border patrolmen at all. McReady, you're too damn important. So you'll have to find others."

McReady looked at the two tribals. Asking them was beyond the loyalty that was expected in their relationship and they understood the risks. Still McReady asked, "What about you two. Will go you and bring 'em back?"

Thing 1 and Thing 2 looked at each other, and they both shook their head. "Sorry boss, but I mean, fuck that. They out there, they on their own. That's not the deal, you know."

McReady spat on the ground but understanding. They're loyalties were to him, not the caravan, not the people on the caravan. But their service did not entail unnecessary risk.

A number of others had come up to watch the sun begin to set.

McReady looked them over. "Alright, any of you willing to go out and make sure the others make it back?"

For a long moment no one said anything. Then a woman in a blue trench coat stood out and said. "Yeah, count me in, especially as these limp pricks don't have the balls for it."

A few of the men laughed at that.
Another guard stepped forward, "I'll show you balls lady. And I can also show you how powerful my boomstick is."

A third guard stepped forward. "Yeah count me in. What the fuck, no one lives forever."

"You know that you might be meeting Moonfrogs and Prairie Dogs out there?"

They nodded, "Shit," Said the woman named Buffy, "If's it just dogs and frogs, this will be piece of cake." Then to the man, "And you'll need to do more if you want to impress me with your balls and boomstick."

"Keep torches lit. Neither frogs nor dogs like fire. Chances are the frogs will leave ya alone, they're after dogs. And as long as you stay off the soft land the dogs won't pull ya under." Said McReady. "It's the frogs you got to worry about when you are on the road. But if you keep the torches lit, they shouldn't bother you much. "

The three nodded and gathered extra torches. Then they left through the main door and back tracked towards the prairie dog warren. The others at the rest station watched until the setting sun made them little but shadows.
 
They were half way across the prairie dog warren when the sun set and the croaking began.

It came from under the ground, long rattling, ripping sounds.

BUUUuuuurrrrrPPPPPP

CROOaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaakkkkkkkkkkkkk

Coming from below, from the tunnels.

No one had to say anything. The small group picked up its pace.

The shadows stretched across the sky, and the sun disappeared in shades of purple.

The guard, Blade, poked at the ground near his feet. It was remarkable soft.

The first frog came from nowhere. One minute the road was clear, the next it was sitting there, in the middle, gazing at them with one giant black eye.

It sat there, slowly breathing, watching them, gazing at them with some alien curiousity.

It was about a meter, a meter and a half long, and about 3/4 meter wide but it was lumpy and misshappened, its brown leathery skin almost translucent.

Then it croaked, its mouth extending like a giant bubble until it appeared to be twice the size of its body. Then the bubble collapsed back into the mouth, and the creature seemed to lick its lips with a long purplish tongue. Across its lips were rows of small but sharp teeth.

Then it inched about, its movements wet and sticky even in the desert. The bulls had stopped moving and everyone was now looking at the toad that stood between the wagon and Talon and Grim.

It blinked twice, fast, and then it leaped. The leap must have been near 30 meters, and then it jumped again and a third time, vanishing into the dark.

"That's one big fucking frog." Said Blade.

And then he felt the ground disappear beneath him, and something clawing at his legs, trying to drag him under.
 
Gabriel stared in awe at the retreating frog. The sun was setting, now almost gone and the shadows were swiftly becoming night. The assassin turned to look at the other caravan members to assess their reactions, then he heard the tall soldier type on the other side curse loudly.

"Ah, fuck!" Gabriel spun the other way, looking out at the desert. He raised the sungoggles off his eyes and as the night became clear as day to him, he drew in a fearful breath.

"Its a diversion!" he bellowed. He knew it would make little difference though. Five massive frogs watched the cart from a dune, no more than a hundred feet or so away. Gabriel knew they had been waiting. Everyone had turned to look at the tall guard and Gabriel's side was left vulnerable.

The assassin drew his SiG, knowing he'd need the extra man-stopping power to deal with the weird frogs. "Jim! Covering fire!"

On the wagon, Jim heard Gabriel's commanding cry and swivelled, bringing the M-60 to bear, but he couldn't see anything. It was too dark.

"What? Buzzcut's in trouble on this side." replied Jim, not realising the danger.

"Fire. Aim a hundred feet out. They're right on top of us. Fire now, goddamn it. Now!"

Jim remembered Gabriel's sensitive nightvision and the vehemence in the assassin's voice convinced him some seriously heavy shit was heading their way on their flank. He yanked back the bolt and let loose. Gabriel turned away, shielding his eyes from the bright muzzle flashes and prepared to face the onslaught.


Blade tried to pull his foot free but big claws ripped at his sturdy boots. Aiming to the left of his foot, he slammed the bayonet into the soft earth and heard a squeel of pain and some of the pressure on his boot went a way. Pulling back hard, he tugged his foot free and staggered backwards.

Without wasting a moment, he and Rogue, who was watching from the wagon, opened fire. Pouring bullets into the ground near the hole Blade's foot had disappeared into moments ago.

"Get back on the cart!" screamed Nat. The shapely woman had joined the other two, adding her firepower to the fusillade of rounds hammering the ground.

Blade emptied his clip, spraying bullets across the soft desert floor, the turned and raced to the wagon, vaulting up onto its transient safety. He noticed Jim firing out into the night.

"What the fuck are you doing?" his voice and temper fired with adrenaline. Jim payed hinm no heed, continuing to pour firepowee into the dark.

"Aim left. Good shot, you - oh fuck!" Gabriel's was cut off abruptly as a massive frog bounded into the light and hammered its feet into the assassin.

"Shit." cursed Jim. He couldn't use the big cannon at this range. He carried on spraying the left flank, hoping to keep the other beasts at bay.


Grim and Talon were trying to make sense of the carnage that had errupted behind them.

Jim was firing off precious ammo into the darkness, Rogue and Nat were firing into the ground and Gabriel was -

They both watched as the bizzare animal, identical to the one which had bounded out between them and the wagon a few moments ago, appeared out of the black and slammed into the tall assassin. Grim saw Gabriel go down and brought his guns into line but Talon slapped his arm and indicated with his weapon at the three large furry animals which had scurried up out of the desert and onto the blacktop and were racing toward them.

"Fuck." hissed the bounty hunter. With a worried look at Gabriel, he swung away to face the new danger. He and Talon opened fire and the first two of the creatures exploded in a flurry of blood, fur and bones. But a more took their place.

A sound to their right explained the sudden migration. Two massive frogs were stamping the ground, and spitting into the dirt. Grim understood instantly.

The frogs were herding the scared prairie dogs into the wagon team.

The bounty hunter swung to fire but the frogs saw him and leapt back into the night. One wasn't fast enough and Grim managed to hit it once, seeing a spray of foul iccur explode from a wound in its leg. But still, they escaped out of view.

Clever bastards, he thought.


Gabriel felt crushed, the beast on top of him was heavy. He realised he had dropped his pistol and that he was weaponless. He had to think fast, he had to -

"Argh!" he grunted in pain as a drop of acidic saliva hit his cheek. It burned horribly and Gabriel bucked and twisted, trying to throw the foul creature off him.

THe frog looked down at its prey and seemed to smile. It mouth opened and its long tongue rolled out, ready to flick back in toe be lashed out like a lethal whip.

Gabriel watched the purple tongue loll out of the things mouth and realised its intentions. Moving faster than any human the beast had ever encountered, Gabriel reached up and grasped the purple tongue. He could hear the acid eating into the leather of his gloves. He pulled as hard as he could and the frog tried to lean back, panicking. Its prey had never done this before.

Gabriel pulled the only knife he could reach, one of his delicate throwing blades, and with one last tug on the tongue, the slashed up and severed it.

The sound from the frog was unnatural. It was a cross between a scream, a roar, and moan, all with a croaking undertone. Gabriel would never forget that tone.

The beast reared up and tried to leap but its pain had sent it off balance and the frog only managed to piledriver itself into the dirt.

Gabriel was up in a second and on top of the beast a moment later. Exchanging the throwing knife for his panga he began to chop and chop and slice. The heavy cleaver thudding into thick reptilian flesh again and again. When the creature stopped moving Gabriel leapt back up and realised the wagon had left him behind slightly, so had the predators. They were converging on the moving cart. He could see them clearly despite the darkness, outlined against the starry sky, which to him, made everything almost as bright as day.

Alone in the dark, Gabriel was once again in his element. He slipped away from the dim torch light and vanished into darkness.

He was the prey no more. As ever, Gabriel had become the hunter.
 
a momentary reprieve?

OOC- Interesting Reaper, but remember these Frogs are basically animals. They might have pack like instincts (like wolves) but they probably don't have much in the way of cleverness.

ICC- While Grim had been firing his .45 at the fury creatures that came racing towards, already crossing the caravan road for the rocks, Talon reached for a grenade.

The prairie dogs moved more out of fear than out of attack. They had tried to trap Blade, who had narrowly escaped, but now the frogs had gotten into the warren, and they fled. But the soft sands of the desert had no promise of safety for them, and they had no where else to go but the rocking areas to the right of the road. Without their ability to burrow underground, the prairie dogs would be easy prey.

They raced past the group, crossing the road, hopping over the cart. Ibis, taking advantage of the sudden fear in the bulls was moving them along quickly. The others on the cart tried to crouch low as the prairie dogs raced past, jumping over the cart, in their hurry to flee the moonfrogs. Jim, blasting away with the M-60, got hit by the side by one of the big dogs, knocking him down and into the cart. Cerebus, growled and barked but there seemed to be too many of the prairie dogs for the Ibis's companion to target.

And the crooning of the frogs now sounded like a there were a full orchestra, hidden in the darkness. Behind the shapes of the prairie dogs, they could seem images of the giant frogs jumping across the horizon. On occassion they could hear a prairie dog scream out.

Grim and Talon crouched down, waiting for Ibis to come up so they could shelter behind the cart, trying to avoid the dogs that jumped past them.

Talon threw the grenade high and away.

It exploded in a thunderous roar and in a brilliant light. A momentary flash but it was enough.

For a moment the explosion froze the frogs in fear, blinding their sensitive eyes and momentarily burning their skin. For the Prairie dogs, which had moved almost herd like past the caravan, the explosion was equally terrifying, they scattered in all directions but all heading back towards the soft sand of the prairie, back to their warrens.

And almost as suddenly as the attack had commenced, everything was silent, eeriely silent. As if there had been do herding of the dogs, as if the frogs had never been there.

Grim and Talon both stood up. On the cart the others peered up from where they had huddled down, Nat going to help Jim who had merely had the wind knocked out of him. Gabriel came in from where he had been and looked about.

Then slowly, out in the darkness, the croaking of the frogs began again.

"They're still out there." Said Ibis.

"Yes, and we got a lot of road yet to travel." Said Grim, then he called out, "Is everyone alright."

Rogue looked about. "Jim got knocked down, but he seems ok."

Grim looked over to Gabriel, and in the darkness of the moonlight sky, could see that the young assassin was holding his face. "Gabriel, are you alright?"

"I think so, not sure. Got some acid on my skin and it burns like hell."The assassin yelled back.

"I'll check him" said Nat, heading out to where Gabriel was.

"Get him back to the cart." Said Grim.

The croaking was getting louder. Blade back tracked and looked down into the hole where he had lost his boot. The scratches to his legs were shallow, and if they hurt, they would heal over the next few days.

But that boot was something else.

He lit a flare and tossed it down a hole. Shapes scurried way, deeper into the warrren. He could see only their shadows. He lit another and dropped it on the surface, then dropped down to retrieve his boot.

When he looked up he noticed that the tunnel was deep, and the soft sand would offer little in the way of a footing. The top of the tunnel was too loose to grip. Last time he had tripped into a tunnel, he had been able to use jungle roots to pull himself free, but this was different. Good old American dirt.

A hand, decayed and boney, reached down into the tunnel, extended for him, like a hand of death reaching down to him.

Never will get used to ghouls, thought Blade.

"Take my arm, dammit. The flare will burn out and the prairie dogs will be back." Said Virgil. Virgil had been rear guard, had tried to get to Blade during the first attack, but had not made it in time.

Well, adjust, improvise and overcome was the Marine way, wasn't it? Thought Blade.

He reached up and took the ghoul's hand.

Further away, someone must have heard the sound. High in the night sky, a star shell exploded, providing more illumination over the road. The shell hung in the sky and slowly dropped, its light fading.

Ibis had been able to stop the cart and gave the reigns over to Rogue while he inspected his bulls for damage.

Talon watched the others impatiently. "We need to do this later."

"Agreed." Then Grim called back. "Lets go folks. We got a long way to go and them frogs seem hungry."

Ibis back on the cart, hurried the bulls alongk, Blade and Virgil chasing after the cart.

________________________

To the East, at the edge of the road, the small group of guards waited at the edge where the warren of tunnels ended.

Each had torches, as instructed by McReady. They had also lit up an ancient tree, its wood dried from years of sun and its branches leafless, which now burned brilliantly.

But they heard the croaking of the frogs.

"What the fuck?" Said a guard named Rudy.

"What ever it is, it ain't good" said the big guard.

"Got any more star shells for that thumper?" Asked Buffy.

"Just one." Said the big guard.

Buffy looked back over the mile or so that stretched to the stragglers. "One more ain't going to cut it."

________________________


At the waystation, the trader, an old caravan hand named Pope had been talking with Reed about provisions and new brahma. There weren't many new ones at the way station, since it never kept. Reed and picked out one of the older bulls for slaughter and went back to the post to inform his hand.

The hand, a big freak of over 9 feet whose skin was a peculiar shade of black, had wandered in months before having barely survived the wastes. Pope's wife had taken to kindness for the big man.

Freak of no Freak, fhe old church ways said be kind to strangers and those in need. She said.

Old bitch always giving freebies away.

Crooked Christ, woman, we can't let that monster in our house. He had said.

You can take your Crooked Christ out of my father's store if you don't mind your tongue. The old ways were the best ways. She replied.

Didn't save you from the war, he had mumbled even as he had given in. Give in or no sweet love tonight, he knew.

"You, freak." He called to the big black man. "We need to prepare old Duke for dinner tonight. You know the one. Got company and more might be coming."

The big black looked at Pope in a way that Pope would have thought his lazy brain couldn't register the words. But he was smarter than that. Pope had seen the big freak read on more than one occassion and what kind of person had time to read these days?

"There are more coming? Tonight?" He asked. His deep voice a baritone. He had gently put down the box he had been moving and put on a smock and taken a big cleaver. "But what about the prairie dogs and the moonfrogs?"

"Fuck'em if they don't know the road they travel." Said Pope. "I'm in business and if a fool's business is good coin, then easier to take, I say. Not like we got much business to be letting it slip away."

"But those people are at risk. They are your people." Said the man.

"They ain't my people. My people all gone North. These are strangers, and strangers got to make their own way. I got no call to wipe their ass if they don't know they sittin in shit." Said Pope. "That's business boy, just business, so don't be giving me that look."

The big man shook his head, and chopped at the large wooden table where he would have prepared the Brahma. "I'm going out there and will prepare the bull when I come back."

"You go out there and don't come back. You got no job here no more." Said Pope.

"Then you can prepare Duke yourself. Either way, I am going out there and what you do then is your business." Said the man, dropping the smock at Pope's feet.

Pope looked up at the big man. Nine feet tall and nearly 4 across. He could crush me with a single hand, thought Pope.

"Go then, but if them frogs get ya, don't be looking for no help, ain't none comin."

The big man put on his home made armor and then picked up an old assault rifle, and strode out of the trading house, out under the dome of the big arena, past the caravan man, then, as he neared the big doors that led out to world outside, picked up a torch, looked back once, and then left.

To the west, down the road, the star shell burned itself out, and once again the road was dark, the only sound, the croaking of frogs.

OOC- Ok Smar, I've got your character introduced. But you should still write him up on the board. I am also posting a bit for Buffy. New people, jump on in.

.
 
Gruug nodded on his way out to a guy with a buz cut and a rifle.
"Are you B.O.S?" Gruug asked.
Seeing the guy look bewildered, Gruug just nodded. He then asked which way the stragglers were.
"Where are they?" Asked Gruug
"Back there a ways" Said the Buzz cut with the rifle.
Gruug trudged on, ignoring the croaking of the bullfrogs. He knew if it came to it he could maybe take on 2... But if there was as many of them as he though... Something started grabbing at his leg, and he noticed he was now in the dirt, and not on the old highway. The thing grabbed hold of his leg even tighter.
This thing's starting to annoy me...
With a great surge of energy, Gruug performed a kind of hammer kick, bringing out the furry thing, crushing it between his boot and the highway, but a move like that, even for the most agile of mutants, will tip them over, so gruug fell the best way to fall, after getting his leg untangled, he fell right on top of the furry thing with a CRUNCH. That's gotta hurt.... Oh well, it could of hurt one of the humans coming this way... So Gruug got back up, and started running for the way the charavan was. I reckon I'd be a right sight, so I would, running...
After what seemed to be hours Gruug Heard voices up ahead. Knowing they would probably shoot him on site, he shouted out
" HELLO THERE, I CAME TO MAKE SURE YOU ARE ALLRIGHT, DON'T BE AFRAID, I WILL NOT HARM YOU!"
Gruug lit a small flare, and walked for about a minute, and they saw him, he saw them. He thought he looked right into the eyes of one of the woman, and distinctly heard her gasp, along with a few of the others....
 
"What the fuck was that?" demanded one of the guards who had been left to help the others get back. A huge black monster had just loped past them without giving them a glance and had carried on into the night.

"Hope those frogs don't feel pain, 'cause it looks like they are about to be in a world of it."

The guards watched the running mutant continue on toward the stragglers.


"Holy shit!" shouted Gabriel. The ponderous behemouth holding a flare turned towards him and Gabriel saw the huge assault rifle in the thing's hand. It was still aimed at the ground but the assassin knew that could change in a second.

Gabriel leapt out of the torch light on the wagon and headed for the shadows, disappearing from the mutant's view. The assassin raced up, over a dune, scanning for beasts. He saw a pothole and dogded aside, hearing the scrabbling of the prairie dogs beneath. Great. Run out on top of their warren.

Think before you move, Gabe, he thought.

He tried to circle round and get behind the massive thing. Whatever it was, it was huge and roughly human shaped. A mutant of some kind.

Terrific. Prairie dogs, bigass frogs, and now a hulking mutant. I prefer dealing with humans, he thought. They're so much easier to kill.

He rose up from a dune, so way behind the mutant and was heartened to see that he was still standing in the road, looking at the wagon. He hadn't opened fire.

Gabriel raised his pistol, knowing that even the stopping power of the heavy SiG wouldn't be enough to hurt the huge thing much. As he took up the first pressure on the trigger, a small red dot standing out on the mutant's neck, Gabriel had an urge, inspired by the mutant's oddly passive stance.

"Don't move!" he shouted.

The thing turned but did not raise the weapon. He looked right at Gabriel and the assassin saw the dull glow from the monocular device attached to the thing's face. It was a nightvision viewer.

Fuck. One of his best weapons taken away from him, the assassin was now unsure how to proceed. Instinct and long practice gave him a strong suggestion, and when the mutant took a step toward him, its mouth opening to speak, Gabrie pulled the trigger.

The bullet bounced off the strong metal breastplate the mutant was wearing. Gabriel thought he was in trouble, holstering his pistol and drew his knives, thinking that getting in close, despite the beast's massive size was the only way to win. The mutant may be strong but he couldn't be fast enough to fight him.

Gabriel didn't think anyone was. He knew life was endlessly capable of surprises and that he would one day come face to face wit hhis physical equal but looking at the huge, obviously strong mutant, he knew today wasn't the day.

The assassin moved forward in a loping, crouching run, his blades pointed upward, ready for a quick thrust at the groin or legs.

"Wait." the mutant held up a hand the size of a plate. Gabriel didn't slow. He was on the path of death now, the path of the assassin. He had a target and that was that. "I'm here to help."

The second comment got through to Gabriel and he slowed, holding back but still wielding his blades, ready to kill at a moment's notice.

Gabriel glanced over and saw that Jim, now recovered from his knockdown, was pointing the M-60 at the mutant's back.

"Help?" asked the assassin, feeling the weight of his knives in his hands, his body wondering why it hadn't followed through on the old instincts. A honed warrior's body is not good at dealing with sudden peace. Powered up for battle, the energy has no where to go and Gabriel, while betraying no emotion, appearing as cold as always, could feel his still muscles tensing up too much. He made and effort to relax but the size of the mutant was unsettling.

"I come from outpost. I come to help."

Really? thought Gabriel. He was not sure what to do. This mutant was too big to be ingnored or trusted just because of the circumstances. This needed to be sorted out now.

"Come on," called Talon, " We gotta be moving, we gotta -"

A frog came leaping out of the darkness, bounding into the dirt next to Gabriel, obviously missing its mark. The assassin swung but the frog was out of reach and his pistols were holstered.

THe frog exploded in a shower of gore as Gruug sprayed it with automatic fire, the Kalashnikov coughing loudly.

That seemed to settle things up for Gabriel and he nodded at the mutant but Rogue shouted in surprise as two frogs slammed into the side of the wagon.

Battle was joined once again.
 
Blade walks cautiously looking left and right. He trips over a giant frog. The frog then tries to kill him.

"Fuck you!" said Blade

Blade shoots the giant frog to bits with burst shot. Just then 5 more frogs head towards Blade.

"Aw shit." said Blade.

He shoots 4 of the frogs and runs out of ammo. The last frog jumps on him and Blade pulls out his Ka-bar knife. He then butchers the giant frog. Body parts from the frog flies a couple of feet into the air.

"Now I need to get back to the others", said Blade.
 
Gruug had couldn't worry about the man that shot him, the people on the wagon were in trouble, bullfrogs where starting to appear.
Gruug saw one of the people on the caravan shooting at 4 of the frogs, but to his dismay, the man had run out of ammunition, judging by the way he was looking at his clip. Out of the corner of his eye, Gruug saw a bullfrog leap for him.
I've got to time this right... Now!
Gruug swung his left arm, making contact with the bullfrog with his fist, hitting it off balance. Gruug saw the green liquid driping out of the things chest. Gruug knew he wouldn't have time to get his weapon around in time, so he did the only thing he could, start punching it with his left hand. Luckily he had put on his spiked knuckles. Gruug started punching, and punching and punching, reducing the bullfrog to a quivering heap. But now was no time to celebrate. Gruug noticed one of the people had a big gun, some sort of support weaponry.
"USE BIG GUN, LEFT SIDE, SPRAY DOWN!" Gruug yelled. As the other might not have realised but there were 3 giant bullfrogs coming up to the left.
I just hope the man that shot me can be of some use... Gruug thought to him self.
He raised his Kalashinikov to the right side, flicking the setting to 3 round burst, he fired a volley of shots into some other bullfrogs.
"GET THOSE BRAHMIN MOVING!" Gruug yelled.
 
Blade gets out his Colt .45 and fires at 2 frogs killing them istantly. He falls into a hole. He takes out his flashlight and looks around.

"What the hell is this?" Blade asked.

Down the hole appears to be some kind of armory.

"These frogs or something else must have made a home of this place." Blade said.

"Guns galore, i'm in heaven". said Blade.

He begins picking up guns. He takes his rope and takes a harpoon that was on the table and threw it to the surface and climbs up.
 
Yersinia Petris

OCC- Ok, this is for new players. Lone Wanderers is not really a D&D adventure, but more like a chance for people who like to write to collaborate on a novel set in the Fallout Universe. So there is more emphasis on story and character than on action.

As a good novel, pulling out something like "and then an armory appeared out of nowhere" doesn't make sense and seems too far fetched to be taken seriously (although mutant killer frogs and giant prairie dogs isn't might be worth thinking about). A more likely scenario of "Blade ran out of ammunition and, seeing he was becoming surrounded by mutant frogs, decided to run like hell." Likewise, as I discussed with Smar, no uber weapons or even superior characters.

THe characters here are very human. That goes for ghouls and mutants as well. They have strengths and weaknesses. Try to keep them realistic as possible and you get a better story.

There have been nearly 300 or so posts on this story so far, some very long and there have been long points with little action. But that's ok. It's more novel than Dungeons and Dragons.

So we are going to have to change this a bit. Oh and most of these OCC posts will be on OCC.

ICC

Virgil had shined his own flashlight into the room that Blade had fallen into and had kept silent while the other man rejoiced at his find. It had been years since Virgil had so much difficulty stifling a smile. Blade had also made a second discovery as he gathered the weapons, first by the smell. Something was rotting down here. He looked about, and there, on the floor, was a body of a prairie dog. He picked up the flare and tossed it on the body. There were more. At least 4 or 5 and they were all dead but as far as Blade could tell, there was no sign of wound.

It was as if they had come there to die.

Then he felt a pinch on his leg, then another, and another.

He scratched his legs. The bites were coming from where the prairie dogs had wounded him, leaving deep scratches in his calves. Should have that looked at. The blood had already dried. Perhaps the scent was attracting fleas.

He felt a pinch on his hand and looked at it, only see four or five fleas jumping over his hand.

Slinging a number of the wound-be weapons of his shoulder, Blade went back to the hole in the tunnel ceiling where Virgil still waited with a hand up.

“Come on humie, don’t want to be down there when the rest of them dogs come back and see you spoiled their party.” Said the Ghoul.
Blade didn’t say anything. He was still having trouble getting used to ghouls. They kept reminding him of lepers.

Blade reached up for Virgil's ghoulish hand. Despite the apparent rot on the skin, the hand held together. Even so Virgil couldn't lift the human.

"Come on damnit. Get me the fuck out of here." Said the human.

“Drop some of those fucking fakes then.” Said Virgil, still struggling to bring the human up. It was too much weight.

“What the fuck do you mean fakes.” Demanded Blade, when he was let go.

“Look.” Virgil's flashlight illuminated a sign on a box in the room that read "WALKER, TEXAS RANGER - PROPs"

“Ah fuck.” Said the marine. “ Maybe they still work.”

“Doubt it.” Said Virgil as he shone the light on the weapons. Of the weapons Blade had taken, most were replicas, made to look like the real thing but incapable of discharging a bullet. The others were so badly rusted and in a state of disrepair that they were all but lost. Years of neglect had taken their toll.

Without the extra weight, Virgil had little trouble pulling the human up. Blade was still pissed, but Virgil clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry humie, no one else finds a treasure chest by just falling into it, you’ll just have to realize you’re just like the rest of us.”

Blade looked at the ghoulish visage next to him, and despite himself, smiled. “My momma always said I was special. Lying Bitch.”

The two men laughed and then ran for the cart that was rapidly moving away.

Gruug was alternating between firing the big Kalashnikov and hammering at any creature that came to near with his spiked knuckes, still holding the spot while Virgil and Blade ran back and then past him. Only when they had gone past for the cart did Gruug begin to retreat.

Ahead, Talon and Grim had been watching the spectacle as Gruug had appeared and begun firing. They looked at each other, and shrugged.

“Sometimes it seems so unreal, like its fiction.” Mused the ex-slaver.

“I know what you mean.” Said Grim, watching as Cerebus, the big dog, was chasing a frog around the right side of the road. Everytime the big dog almost had the toad, it would leap away in some other direction.

They had been shooting what little they could see. But what prairie dogs had been chased out of their warren had now turned around and where heading back into the soft sandy prairie land, and moving fast. In the night sky it seemed the frogs had mostly decided to chase the dogs, and they could see the shape of a frog leap through the sky, and then disappear again into the darkness of the ground. Only for that fleeting moment did they have the shot, and the frogs were move too sporadically for either man to predict.

The lights, the damn lights. Thought Grim. Then he yelled back. “Everyone, light torches. The Frogs don’t like the lights and the prairie dogs have run for it.”

Gabriel, who had rejoined the cart, yelled back. “What do you mean?”

“They’re light sensitive. Keep a torch light up and they’ll leave you alone.”

The big mutant reached back and pulled a torch from his backpack, snapped a match across his armor and lit it up, then stood tall, like a giant beacon. On the cart Rogue was lighting torches as fast as she could move, while Jim held the position with the M-60. Nat was leaning over Gabriel, trying to put some ointment on his burn.

“This is going to leave a scar I’m afraid, but its not too bad. Here ya go now.” She rubbed some jell on his skin. “This will kill infection and help the skin heal up.”

“Where did you learn first aid.” Asked Gabriel.

“You’d be surprised how much medical stuff you learn in a whore house when the soldiers come in, to drunk to fuck but not quite drunk enough to stop smacking around a girl.” She winked at him.

Hearing the word whore house, Jim took advantage to give Nat’s ass a squeeze. But she swatted his hand away, and said, “Why Jim, you are a cheeky bastard, ain’t you.”

“I could show ya.” He said.

“If ya got the money ya might.” She replied.

“Damn,” Said Jim, feeling a bit to his arm. “Fuckers had fleas. That’s the third bite.”

Ibis looked back. “What’s that?”

“I said the damn prairie dog that hit me left a couple of fleas behind.”

“Be careful.” Said the old funeral director. “That could also be Yersinia Pestis that’s taken a bite of you. Best I keep an eye on ya over the next few days.” Then he whistled hard, bringing Cerebus in.

The cart was undisturbed by men or beast as it moved up the road, up till where Talon and Grim were waiting. By that time Virgil and Blade had caught up, and the big mutant was close behind. When the mutant caught up, he said, in a deep voice. “I’m Gruug. Mutant. I come to help.”

Now all the group were together and walking along the road. The croaking continued, but it seemed to fade.

“Well glad you came for us Gruug. I’m Grim. And these others, Gabriel’s the fellow in black, Ibis is the old fellow and that ugly three headed dog is Cerebus. Ibis gets strange visions sometimes but don’t let him scare you. This here is Talon, recently made Border Patrol. The girl with the wounded leg is Rogue, she’s hell of a shot. The other girl being sweet to Gabriel is Nat, we just met her. Jim’s on the M-60. The other fellow… who are you?”

“Blade, US Marines.” Said the man with the buzz cut.

“Marines? Is that part of BOS?” Said the Mutant.

Blade shook his head. “No, Marines are only part of history now.”

“BOS?” Asked Grim.

“Brotherhood of Steel. Fierce and noble warriors that fought the Master’s Army.”

“Never heard of them, least not around here. The Masters Army is who exactly?”

“A misconceived idea.” Said the mutant, Gruug. “But no more, and not here it seems. Come I will lead you to the way station. That way.” Gruug pointed to a torch light in the distance where Gabriel could make out three people were waiting. Then he added. “Best to stay on the road. No prairie dog tunnels and where there are no tunnels no frogs. Frogs eat the prairie dogs, but don’t bother people much.”

Nat looked up at the big fellow, and for reasons unclear, perhaps realizing that like her, the big mutant was somehow out of place and time, said. “Gruug, what do you do here?”

“Work for Pope. He keeps the way station. But I think I work for him no more. Time to move on.”

“If you are interested, I can put in a word with McReady and Reed and maybe they’ll hire you on.” Said Grim.

The mutant gazed at the bounty hunter. “You would help me? Human help mutant?”

“Pay sucks, Reeds a prick but it’s a job and a way out.” Offered Grim.

The mutant nodded. “Sounds good.” And walked ahead. Grim and Talon watched him move ahead before taking positions at the front of the cart.

OOC- Ok, time for a bit of introductions as well. You can fight the frogs a bit more, but it won’t seem to add more to the story at this point.
 
OOC: I was going to say something about blade finding an armory, then thought better of it, and waited till someone else pointed it out. Anyways.

IC: As Gruug walked along, he thought of something.
"Pay sucks?" Asked Gruug.
The other people nodded. Well, I really have no use for money, and that bag just takes up too much room... Thought Gruug to himself. Gruug looked at Grimm, he looked to be the leader of this particular caravan.
"Here, takes this bag of money... I collected money along the course of my life span... I think there is ten or eleven thousand bottle caps in there. You should spread it around to the other people of this caravan. Think of it as my little gift for letting me help you people." Said Gruug.
And with that, he took of his massive backpack, rummaged in it for a minute or two, and brought out a bag. He gave that to Grimm, and did what classifies for mutants, smile.
What he didn't notice untill now, was that his hand was turning green now and then... Bah, most likely poison on my hand from that darn frog... Gruug thought to himself.
"Er, do we have a medic here? I think i was bit, my hand's turning green..." Gruug asked, not expecting to be helped though...
He may as well have been shouting at a brick wall for all the good it did. Everyone was staring up ahead, where in the distance, the way station was lit up like a christmas tree. Gruug suddenly had a pang of guilt. He had walked out on the wayman. He would most likely not be allowed in there. Oh well, he had rations of his own to help himself too. Some nice, dried salty jerky. He also has 13 bottles of different flavors of nuka cola. Mmmmm, nuka cola... Gruug took a bottle of his favorite nuka cola, vanilla cherry. Which is what is made when he put half cherry cola and half vanilla cola in a bottle and shook it around. He couldn't think of how the humans did not like the cherry flavor. It was one of his favorites. Odd wasn't it, that a super mutant, who was meant to strike terror when the master was still around, was in love with cherry nuka cola. Oh well, I am different from most other super mutants. Gruug thought to himself. He looked at his hand, which was slightly puffy. He got out some jerky, wrapped it around a cold bottle and held it in his left hand. That would have to do, Gruug thought to himself.
In ten minutes, they had arrived at the way station, where the other Caravan was. Grimm Asked if Gruug was going to come in, but Gruug declined, saying he would rather be outside on Guard.
Gruug took a look at his hand, which was quite a bit better now. Deciding he wouldn't leave the jerky nor the normal cola to waste, he at the jerky, which was rough and chewy, taking sips of nuka cola now and then. Gruug unslung his back pack, and put his back to the wall. He looked kept looking around for maybe half an hour untill his eyes started to close. He got his rifle and put it into his hands. Most creatures would be deterred just be the sight/size of him, let alone him having a cannon of a rifle. Gruug slowly drifted off to sleep...


Running... Running...
"HE'S COMING! HE'S COMING!" Yelled one of the mutants, who then sounded the alarm. And there, on the camera's came the General, with his followers and 5 squads of BOS lapdogs. Gruug watched on in amusement, as the Super Mutant guards tried to stop them. Sheesh, normal chaingun bullets wouldn't do jack shit to BOS power armor. Maybe give it a few scrapes, but that's probably all. Gruug frowned, the General, also in power armor, grabbed the plasma rifle from his back... Wait a sec... That's no ordinary plasma rifle... Looks like a Turbo Plasma rifle... Pow, he fired a 4 bolts right into the mutants body, Gruug watched with disgust for 3 hours, while his super mutants posed no threat to the General and his lap dogs...
Gruug pressed the com button.
"Terror squad, you are assembled I hope, go to quadrant h3, equiped with turbo plasma rifles, turbo laser rifles and turbo laser gatling guns. You will probably die, but remember, FOR THE MASTER!" He watched as they all raised their weapons and yelled, FOR THE MASTER. After half an hour of fighting, and 2 BOS squads wiped out, Terror squad was no more. The General was coming.
"Right, prepare the traps, it's time to see how smart these people are." Said Gruug.
"JASAR!" Screamed one of the grunts.
"NO NEED TO FUCKING SHOUT ASSHOLE!" Screamed Gruug back and shot him in the face with the laser gatling gun. Gruug watched as the body hit the floor, twitching. Gruug then sniffed a booger at him.
"Disgusting idiot. Get throw him out." Commanded Gruug.
"Yes sir" Said one of the other grunts much more quietly.
Gruug stood over the consoles, with his finger hovering over the traps button. He then pressed the intercom button for Quadrant h9.
"I hope you like spart's." Said Gruug.
He saw the General instantly reckognise what he meant, and shouted "GET DOWN!" But it was too late for the last two squads, as only one squad was down quick enough before Gruug pressed the button. Titanium rods and spores of acid came flying out of the walls, eating away and puncturing the Power Armor. Gruug knew instantly that those two squads were wiped out.
"Everyone, get out of here, now." Gruug commanded, and after a minute of hectic confusion, no one but himself was in the room.
Let em come. Gruug thought to himself. He got out his Turbo Plasma rifle and Turbo Laser Gattling cannon.
After 5 minutes, the door wooshed open, and the BOS squad came charging in. Gruug let the Laser and plasma bolts fly. He saw he made short work of five of the BOS. Then he turned the cannon on the next three, while shooting his Turbo Plasma Rifle at the last one.
"They are now all dead... HAHAHAHAHA" Said Gruug.
"Wrong" Came a voice behind him, the General, who shot him in the face.

"MOTHERFUCKER!" Yelled Gruug, and shot his Kalashinikov, just missing Grimm, who had come to wake him up.
"Err, sorry..." Said Gruug.
 
ICC-


“Let me have a look at that.” Came a voice from behind Rogue. She was stood putting together a make shift camp bed that seemed to look worst than she did.

Rogue turned to see Ibis stood before her holding a bowl of water and fresh bandages.

“You might want to sit down for this.” Advised Ibis. Rogue did has he asked and flopped down on the bed sending a cloud of dust to the air.

Gently, Ibis removed the make shift field dressings Jim had thrown on earlier which was now stained red with blood.
Luckily, thanks to Jim’s fast work in the underground, the dressings had prevented the wound becoming infected to any extent and had stopped any large amounts of bleeding and loss of blood.

Rogue cringed slightly as Ibis unwrapped the final layers of bandage which were stuck to the wound. He propped Rogue’s leg on his knee and inspected the gash closely.

“Looks like it’s a pretty clean cut. There’s no sign of any tearing to the musscle tissue.” Smiled Ibis.

“I would suggest that you don’t go doing anything on this leg or you could open the wound again. Give it time to heal properly.”

Rogue nodded, “Guess you’re stuck with me on your cart then.”

Cerebus plodded over to where the two were and placed all three heads on Rogue's lap. They seemed content as Rogue stroked each one in turn while Ibis started to clean the wound.

Rogue lay back with a sigh and closed her eyes, all the time continuing to stroke the three-headed beast, which seemed more like a puppy in need of love.

“So Laura, what do you plan for your future?”

Rogue managed to open one eye to stare at Ibis, “What kind of question is that?” She asked. Slightly curios why Ibis would ask such a sharp question, “Anyway, I thought you knew what the future holds?”

Ibis just chuckled, “Ha my dear, I don’t know everything which the future holds, I can mealy guide you with what I have seen.”

“Besides, it is you and you alone that can shape your own future.”

Rogue thought about the old mans words before closely both eyes again.

“I guess I never really thought about it before, I always had a purpose and that seemed to be my future.”

Ibis dropped a bloody cloth into the water boll and pulled out a white rag from his bag to dry the wound.

“I know it must have been difficult but it is better to move on with your own life.” whispered Ibis.

Rogue opened an eye again and peered at Ibis. She was about to ask him how he knew about her decision but thought better of it. This was Ibis after all.

“Remember Rogue, the future is what you make it.” Said Ibis.

The old man wrapped a new dressing around Rogue’s leg; He was pretty sure he had said what needed to be said.

“There we are, as good as new. It’ll want changing again tomorrow night.”

Ibis stared up at Rogue and smiled. The young gril was now fast asleep. It had been a long day and tomorrow would bring much of the same. She would need all the sleep that she could possibly get.

“How’s is she?” Asked Grim placing a friendly hand on Ibis’s shoulder.

“It’ll be ok, she just needs to keep the weight off it for a few days.”

The two stared at Rogue. She seemed peacefully a sleep. Cerebus was stil therel with all heads on her lap.

Ibis collected his meds and turned to Grim, “How about you, you ok?”

Grim knew what the old man meant, “Look, I’ll be back in a little but now I got to check on our new friend. He’s on guard alone.”

Ibis watched as Grim departed towards the doors. Maybe he was finally coming round to his new life as well.
 
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