ICC- Lone Wanders Chapter 2

[Gunslinger]

IC-

Caleb’s mouth gaped open as Grim ran out of the safety of the fortress to get Gabriel. Either Grim was a better man than Caleb, going out to certain death to save a friend, or he was still under the effects of the psycho. The Blade had a suspicion that it was the former.

In front of the double-doors of the fortress, the lone Blade stared uncertainly out into the darkness where deathclaws no doubt roamed. Caleb hunkered down behind a table. He might as well get comfortable. The hallway he was standing in led to an armory in the back. He could retreat back if the outer defenses were breached. That is, if the deathclaws didn’t get him first.

The opened entrance of the fortress gave Caleb a clear and unobtrusive view of the perimeter of barbwire. The length of wire didn’t look threatening, especially to a deathclaw. He hoped that the landmines were still active.

Caleb looked dubiously at the flare gun Grim had given him. He broke the hinge down and saw there were eight flares inside its circular magazine. The orange sticks were tipped with phosphorous that would explode in blinding white light. That is, if they weren’t expired yet.

The Blade set the flare gun off to the side. He would set to work with the Winchester instead. Caleb had fished out a brick of .45-70 Government from the armory. They were the same rounds that fitted into his revolver. Caleb doubted if they would do much against deathclaw hide but it was all he had to work with. He placed the bullets in a neat row on top of the table for easy access.

He set the stock of the Winchester against the table edge. The barrel was pointed straight ahead of him, ready to gun down any deathclaw that wandered in front of it. Vendetta had yet to live up to its name but it would still shed blood. Caleb licked his dry lips as he stared down the iron sights.

Early on, a Blade is thought to ride, shoot, and speak the truth. Of all the three, Caleb had excelled in shooting. The Winchester was renowned for its accuracy in the earlier years. Now, precision rifles cluttered the market. Still, Caleb felt confident that he could land any shot with his outdated rifle. He would have liked to fire a few benchrest rounds with the gun to get its feel but it was unnecessary.

Caleb heard growling from outside but he was not afraid. With the rifle balanced on the table, Caleb used his free hand to reach for a bullet. His eyes never unlocked from the iron sights. With a practiced hand, Caleb slipped eleven rounds into the Winchester’s breech. The bullets slid into the magazine with eager ease.

Caleb’s heart was pure and his rifle would fire true. The Blade had a particular verse memorized in Psalm 91: “His truth shall be your shield and buckler. You shall not be afraid of the terror of the night, nor of the arrow that flies by day. Nor of the pestilence that walks in darkness, nor of the destruction that lays waste at noonday. A thousand may fall at your side, and ten thousand at your right hand; but it shall not come near you.”

Caleb’s heart was pure and his rifle would fire true.

The roar of the deathclaw echoed into the night, freezing lesser men’s blood. Gunshots returned the roar of the deathclaw and Caleb could hear Grim shouting savagely. He wished the bounty hunter luck. Caleb himself would not need any luck.

It seemed like Caleb had the rifle propped and ready for centuries. He suddenly felt like Atlas, bearing the world on his back for all eternity. He bore the burden willingly, however.

And then a mine went off near the barbwire in front of him, sending a volley of scrap metal and dirt into the air. The roars of the deatclaws filled the night, howling incessantly. With the first deathclaw taking the burnt of the mines, the rest of the pack lumbered over their fallen sibling to rush into the outer defenses.

Caleb was waiting for them. The moving mass of muscle, flashing claws, and snarling mouths seemed to be endless. The Blade felt like he was fighting against an avalanche.

He gritted his teeth, sighting down at the lead deathclaw, and then squeezed the trigger. The report of the rifle cried out into the night and the muzzle flash was blinding. The bullet tore through the air and impaled itself into the muzzle of the lead deathclaw, throwing its head back. The leader snorted and pawed at its muzzle, easily shrugging off the blow. And the onslaught kept coming.

Caleb pulled down on the stirrup, dumping out the empty shell and rotating a fresh cartridge. He counted six deathclaws in total. They were only three hundred yards away. He had to make each shot count.

The Blade lined up the sights again, keeping it on the lead deathclaw. The gigantic creature roared again as it galloped towards him. Caleb waited for the right moment before firing his shot. The bullet broke through the creature’s fangs, shattering them into many shards, and then exited through the back of its mouth. The deathclaw collapsed in front of the ground with a muffled grunt. The rest of the pack leaped over its body and continue their charge at Caleb.

He had killed only one deathclaw. It was a gigantic feat but it was still not enough. The deathclaws were getting closer. Caleb would not survive at this rate. Hell, he would have been better off rushing with Grim. At least then he would die in the open air.

Caleb lowered his rifle carefully to the ground and retrieved the flare gun. Shading his own eyes, he pointed the gun directly above the deathclaws and fired. The spark of flame shrieked as it exited the barrel, flying to the sky like a bat where it exploded into a bright flurry of white sparks.

The effect was instantaneous. The deathclaws stopped in their tracks, throwing their massive arms over their triangular heads. They shrieked in pain as they rolled down the hill they were descending.

Caleb did not give them a chance to recover. He spun the magazine of the flare gun to a fresh flare, pointing it directly at the bunched up crowd of deathclaw and fired. Deathclaw hide is surprisingly resilient to most projectiles. Some speculated that their hide excreted some hardening mucus. It didn’t matter in this case, however. Deathclaws were just as susceptible to fire as everyone else.

The deathclaws, stunned from the flare and now caught on fire, scampered weakly away from each other. They spread trails of charred grass as they scattered in all directions. Their oil hides quickly fueled the fire as they ran, the air only spreading it. Soon, they were living candles that would soon extinguish.

Caleb set the flare gun aside and readied the Winchester again. More deathclaws would come.

But Caleb was not afraid. His heart was pure and his rifle would fire true.

=============
IN THE SEWERS
=============

Neil shook his head at the mass of corpses at his feet. Off to the side, Paul was vomiting. The stench of feces and rotted bodies was unbearable.

Something big was going down in Tabis. It was an everyday thing when an army of slavers lay dead in the sewers. Even though their initial problems were solved with the dead bodies, Neil had a feeling that things would be getting worse.

The sergeant readied his shotgun. The trail of bodies extended further on. He tapped his partner on the shoulder. “Come on, kid. Lets get to the bottom of this.”

Paul stood up and wiped his mouth. “Roger, Blue Boy One,” he said in a weak voice. The two cops followed the yellow brick road of slaver corpses.

The trail of bodies stopped at a ladder leading to a manhole. The ladder was slick with blood and crimson stains blotted the pipes.

“I think this leads to the park,” said Paul. He was looking at the bloodstains with misgivings. In afterthought, he hauled out the Desert Eagle.

“Lets do this thing,” Neil said, climbing the ladder.

The two cops prepared to surface up to the park, unaware of the horde of deathclaws swarming above them.

 

[welsh]

Grim on a limb

OOC- Gunslinger!!!! I was on the second floor burning Deathclaws, not in a graveyard dancing with them!

Reaper- Still looking for some fancy footwork from Gabriel.

______

Now what am I doing in a graveyard, filled with mines and surrounded by deathclaws? Thought Grim.

He had dashed out of the house and to the forest, back towards where Gabriel had gone. Not a dozen stems and a Deatclaw had rushed him, knocking him aside with a clawed arm. Grim had fired instinctively with his six shooter. The first two rounds slamming into the beast, with little damage. The third shot had hit the creatures eye.

And still it came.

It was at this moment that Grim remembered a sign he had once seen outside a tavern in a mountanous area to the west.

The sign had said "Drugs Kill"

Sometimes this was true. Grim had seen a fair share of overdoses in his time. But surely Deathclaw was even more unpleasant. He could smell the deathclaw that had been burnt just as he could see the others fighting over the dead.

And yet it was hard to stem the bezerker rage he felt coursing through his veins.

It was as if one side of the mind, the reckless side, "Deathclaws? What a bunch of Pussies!"

And the other, wiser, side said, "Fool get your ass back in the fort."

Grim eased a squeeze on the trigger of the flamers, well aware that he was running out of fuel. The fire splashed on the wounded creature, who screamed out and then fell to the floor, thrashing about as it tried to extinguish the terrible burning.

Surely he must have been out of his mind when left the security of the second floor of the fort to run out to fetch Gabriel with only a six shooter and and a broken flamer. It was as if another person had manipulated his movements to this moment of utter foolishness.

Got to hand it to the kid though. He might be a blood thirsty assassin sent to kill them with complete cruelty, but it was a bad ass move to run out into a field of Deathclaws to save Caleb's ass.

A feat of bravity or drug induced stupidity.

Well, be it as it may, it was time to bring youngster home.

Behind him, from the safety of the fort no less, Caleb was firing his rifle.

ANd then, finally, the light, Brilliant white light, unlike anything these Deathclaws had seen.

Grim could seem them stopped now, stunned by this turn of events, uncomprehending of this brilliant light. More flares, and he saw a deathclaw take a flare in the torso, and the hide catch fire. Others caught fire, and dashed in different direction. They fell to the dirt and rolled, in an effort to rid themselves of the fire. Those that managed, dashed back towards the ruins circling Wainright park.

But rather than fire the flares high into the sky where they would illuminate most brightly, Caleb had fired them at the creatures, and then in quick succession.

The light should have been enough for Gabriel to get back into the fortress before the Deathclaws renewed their attack. Once inside the fortress, they only needed to keep the creatures at bay until help arrived or until the sun rose.

Of course that would have been the easy way to do this.

Grim touched the wound to his side, and felt it damp. Which would explain the lightness he felt in his head. Now this would be a great time to faint, Grim though. Oh crap. I knew those Blades and Slayers were overrated.

Yes, it would have been easier had Caleb done a few other things.

Of course easy wasn't quite as exciting. Three bullets and almost out of Flamer fuel, on the otherhand, was plenty exciting.

Time to get back in the Fort, whispered the more intelligent voice.

Now where the hell was the damn kid.

____

Reaper- this is really a good time for your character to do some kick ass and get us back into the fortress.

 

[Reaper]

OOC: Okay, I'm coming. No one post about the graveyard scene until I have get this thing written. Shouldn't be too long, half and hour maybe.

I just don't want to miss my opening (Again I was at the pub when the fireworks started.)

 

[Gunslinger]

Just reread the post, Welsh. Goodness gracious, why I do declare I'm caught in a discrepency. My bad, my bad. Well, at least you roll with the punches handed to you.

*Note to self: read others' post more thoroughly. And pickup some postage stamps.

 

[Reaper]

The huge deathclaw met Gabriel's charge, though the odd courage its prey displayed gave it momentary pause. A pause that just became an opening for the ferocious assassin.

All doubts vanished. Caleb was right, think you will lose and you will. Know you will win and you just might. Still didn't quite sound fair but that's life.

The beast roared as it swung a claw at the charging human, expecting that would end the struggle as it had done so many times before. Meeting only air, the heavy claw continued its course, pulling the overextended deathclaw an unintended step forward, desperatly trying to compensate and keep its balance.

Shock hit the deathclaw's brain like an anvil as it felt an impossible sensation. Excruciating pain, lancing through its abdomen.

Gabriel withdrew the bowie knife, continuing his roll that had taken him under the beast's deadly swing. The deathclaw tried to turn to face the unbelievably fast human but the shock of the wound and the slippery mud slowed the normally lightning quick animal. Gabriel swung the heavy panga down into monster's kneepit, hamstringing the howling beast. Growling obscenly, the deathclaw started to go down but it slammed a claw down on the ground and righted itself, lashing out with its other hand.

Dodging the hatred filled swipe, Gabriel closed with the beast and sliced it across the belly, transecting his previous vertical cut. Steaming inards slopped out of the mortally wounded killing machine but its brain had never learned the concept of defeat and the deathclaw powered forward, using its one good leg and snapped at Gabriel's face.

Leaping back, only a second before his face vanished into the beasts mouth, the deathclaws jaws snapped shut, it missed him by a hair's breadth. The beast's stone hard head pounded Gabriel's chest and his breath was smacked out of him and he fell back. Kicking up at the looming monster, he snapped its head back and using the momentum of his moving leg, he rolled backwards out from under the deathclaw as it toppled to the ground like a felled tree.

It growled defiance even as Gabriel made it to his feet and leaping astride its back the assassin slammed his bowie knife deep into the dying beast's eye, twisting the blade, destroying the deathclaw's brain matter, finally convincing the primal killing machine it had lost. A final shaky breath escaped the dead creature and then it was still.

Gabriel sagged back on the falled beast's broad back and took the deepest gasp of air he had ever taken as the the triumph of his survival hit him.

I didn't expect that to happen, he thought.

A dangerous snuffling sound made him leap off the carcass, dragging his knife with him, and he stood poised above the dead creature, ready to hack it to pieces before he realised the noise came from the undergrowth towards the fort.

"Luck will only get you so far." he muttered under his breath.

Damn, no one will ever know I killed a deathclaw in hand to hand combat. Pride never went away. Never.

He could see the deathclaw skulking through the shadows towards him. Its blotched white and grey hide made it stand out, from the green and brown foliage. "You want some of this too?" he called at the beast, which had now realised it had been spotted and was advancing more confidently. The sight of its fallen brother stopped it for a moment but it soon got over the surprise.

Gabriel could tell this one was smarter. It respected the human, having seen what he had done to the overconfindent deathclaw. They circled each other, both combatants looking for the ideal moment to strike. Gabriel knew it was pointless, he could maybe avoid the first few attacks and land some good blows but the deathclaw would win in the end.

The depressed assassin suddenly noticed flames flashing in the darkness in the distance, closer to the fort. The deathclaw noticed Gabriel's momentary distraction and charged. The assassin dived to he side but even as he did so he saw how impossibly fast the creature was. He knew he wouldn't make it.

"Arhgg!" he bellowed as the deathclaw's talons raked his side, tearing through the thin side-kevlar and slicing his flesh. Rolling away, his mind clouded by the sudden, incredible pain he smacked into a tree trunk.

The deathclaw made a strange rasping noise and Gabriel realised with disgust that the beast was laughing at him. Anger flowed through him, filling his blood with renewed tenacity and strength. Forcing himself to his feet, Gabriel squared his shoulders and held his blades ready to attack. The deathclaw cocked its head in surprise. The assassin was its toughest prey since as far back as the thing could remember.

Filing this little fact away at the back of it primal brain, the deathclaw decided it was time to finish the fight and it charged again.

Gabriel parried the monster's claw with his cleaver-like panga, slashing two long fingers from its huge hand. Ducking the other claw, he stabbed forward with the bowie knife but the horrifed deathclaw swayed away from the thrust and kicked out at the crouching assassin. Gabriel launched himself into the air, somersaulting out of range, but the landing jarred his wounded side and the assassin staggered, losing his balance and dropping to his knees.

So close, he thought. No one has ever managed to butcher two deathclaws, not up close.

He prepared himself for one last, desperate assault. He was going to cripple the monster no matter what. Gabriel vowed that the deathclaw wound remember this battle until the day it died.

Rising to his feet, he twirled the heavy panga in his right hand and swung the blade, testing his shoulder.

The deathclaw was opening and closing its mutilated left hand, staring at the severed joints.

The two warriors turned to stare at each other and as both tensed for the final act the night became brighter than day. And both fighter reeled back in pain.

The deathclaw screamed and scurried away into the trees. Gabriel dropped his weapons and covered his eyes, moaning in agony. He fell to the floor and rolled in the dirt, praying for his eyesight to return. He opened his eyes and he saw the faint outlines of trees and his dropped blades lying in the mud. He crawled unsteadily towards them, like a shortsighted man searching for his glasses. Snatching them up he used a tree to help him stand and he leaned against the trunk, trying to calm down and catch his breath.

Fucking flare, he thought. His eyes were beginning to adjust but he could still barely see, everything was too bright. As the manmade star fell back to earth and darkness began to return, Gabriel could again make out his surroundings. The trees, the torn up mud, splashed with blood, the last remnants of his battle with the white deathclaw.

And off to his right, irregular flashes of flame and the sounds of angry shouts.

Crap, someone else is out here.

Gabriel sheath his panga and held his side with his right hand and began running toward the incendiary carnage.


Grim turned in a circle, spraying th last of the flame at the rabid monsters. Dropping the heavy flamer on its sling, he pulled up his six-shooter and fired in the hungry pack. The last gout of flame had sent them leaping for cover but their confidence grew as they realised the human had run out of flame.

Fucking fantastic. Damn kid runs off to save Caleb's ass, I run out here to save his ass and I'm the one that gets to be deathclaw food. Life's a bitch.

Thinking these depressing though accurate thoughts, Grim caught sight of a running figure, moving erratically through the tree to his left.

Terrific, now we're both gonna die, he thought.

Instead of running straight into the clearing Grim occupied, the running figure of Gabriel changed course toward the deathclaws who where edging closer to the bounty hunter.

Grim watched Gabriel emerge into the moonlight, running round behind the advancing beasts, firing into their massive backs. The hulking monsters turned on the black-clad assassin, only to receive more shots in their back from Grim.

Both men were running now, fleeing towards the fort and sanctuary.

Deathclaws may be smart for animals but they are still animals and they don't like getting hurt. So when more than one thing is trying to hurt them the hesitation as they decide which threat to deal with first is when whatever the deathclaw wants to eat runs for its life.

Gabriel was ahead of Grim now and the bounty hunter risked a glance behind him and his heart missed a beat. The deathclaws were only some fifteen yards behind. Palming one of the little green steel balls he had found in the locker, Grim yanked out the pin and dropped the grenade beside him, never slowing his pace, knowing his survival depended on speed and luck.

The explosion knocked the deathclaws off their feet, one of them going up in flames. Gabriel who was nearly at the fort had slowed and realised Grim had fallen behind little. He dropped to one knee and aimed at the quickly rising beasts and pulled the trigger but the hammer fell on an empty chamber. Gabriel looked at his gun in disbelief, before cursing and running on, hoping his mistake wouldn't cost Grim his life.

Grim continued running and closed with the open doorway, seeing Gabriel duck inside. He could hear the hammering of the deathclaws' feet as they neared their prey. Then loud cracks filled the air and Grim heard the noise of bullets smacking flesh and heavy animal tumbling to the floor.

Caleb sighted along Vendetta’s barrel and fired again, taking down another reckless beast. The deathclaws were running so fast, Caleb’s shots were enough to knock them off balance and send them spinning away, out of the pursuit. Gabriel was beside the Blade, reloading his pistols, hoping to held the fleeing bounty hunter who had risked his life to find him and bring him back to safety.

Only one deathclaw still followed Grim and the pair were now only ten yards from the doors. The bounty hunter could sense the beast poised behind him and he threw himself forward, twisting in the air and firing into the monster’s face. As Grim hit the dirt and cleared the line of sight, Gabriel opened up, peppering the deathclaw’s chest. Caleb squeezed the trigger on his powerful Winchester and the heavy bullet smacked with deadly precision into the rearing beasts forehead. Cracking through the thick skull, the fragmenting round pulped the deathclaw’s brain-matter, delivering the fatal blow.

The huge animal hit the ground with a heavy thud, while Grim scrambled to his feet and raced inside the shelter. He and his comrades slammed the heavy doors closed, locking the angry beasts outside.

The three men took the deepest breath in their lives.

 

[welsh]

Grim gives out.

Breath in, Grim thought, Breath out.

Breathin.... breath out.

It was nice to be alive. But he could feel the wetness of the wound in his torso and knew that his wounds were open again.

He closed his eyes. Nope, no talking ravens, no flying rats. This was not yet another near death experience. Not yet.

Still the fire lit his veins and his eyes rapidly from the gunslinger to the assassin.

"Sometimes I get tired of violence." He said to both. Each nodded.

Outside he could hear the deathclaw moving about, fighting with each other for the fresh meat of the dead.

It would keep the deathclaw busy for awhile. Probably long enough for the sun to come up and the nasty beasts to go back to their holes, and then they could get out of here.

Probably Skik would bring back Wally by then, maybe Fang too.

Yes, that's wise, let the Slayer in the power armor go out into the field of deathclaw.

Skik, where were you? Skik, you would brought us here and had started all this trouble with the slavers, oh we need to talk.

Grim hobbled over to the medical kit, and looked inside. "Caleb, I see some bandages in here, some sutures and clamps, some sponges, even some synthetic plasma and blood. Can you hook me up cowboy?"

Caleb, who was reloading his pistols and rifles, but watching Gabriel, nodded.

The two were very quiet, the air visibly tense.

"I figure that the deathclaw out there got enough to eat so will probably leave us be. They're tough, but if the dead ones aren't enough for 'em, there are plenty of wounded that will be easier kills. We should be ok till sun up, and we'll probably get help soon enough."

Gabriel was watching the Blade. These warrior types never let up.

"I think I'm done walking."Grim said, "I bled out too much. So if no one comes, best you leave me here. I'll probably be dead by evening anyway. And being eaten by Deathclaw is better than being worm food."

"Shut up, Grim" Said Caleb, who was still watching Gabriel.

But Grim ignored him. To Gabriel, Grim said, "Son, that was some pretty slick work out there. Ya did pretty good. And Caleb, if you ever...."

But Grim couldn't speak. Oh, here we go again he thought just before the blackness hit. The bounty hunter passed out and collapsed to the floor.

 

[welsh]

Meanwhile, At Fantasia's

Meanwhile at Fantasia's House-

Cerebus three heads reflected three sides of its nature. The wolf, wild and untamed, but a careful and resilient hunter. The shepperd, a loyal and intelligent guardian. And finally the Boxer, a true friend and a tenacious fighter. All three, atop of Mastiff's body, had been found by Ibis when the dog had been abandoned by its mother. Ibis was all the family Cerebus had ever known.

He neared the door, its nose down, and sniffed deep. While the boxer might have barked, or the sheppard growl, the wolf kept all silent. It was what the hunt required.

Certainly the big dog would die for its owner.

Ibis brought his fingers to his lips, a signal to the girl to be silent. Then he mouthed the words, "Is there another way out?"

Fantasia nodded. and pointed her finger around and moved in that direction. Ibis waited until she had disappeared before approaching the dog, and put a comforting hand on the animals side.

The boxer looked up and the tail wagged twice.

It was better this way. Let the girl escape.

Ibis was too old to go running in the street anyway. Besides, he had a few tricks of his own.

Outside he could hear the sounds of footfalls, and men whispering.

"No one said nothing about the old man." said one. "We were just supposed to grab the girl."

"Shit, just kill the mutha fucka." Said the other, the leader. "And that mutie dog."

Except this was not yet the time. Thought Ibis.

"No one said nothing about no killing the old man. Ain't no one said I'd get paid for this." Said the first

"Don't be a Bitch, and just do this thing." Said the first.

"Ya, I'm getting tired of this. Let's get it on." Said another.

At least three men.

He heard the foot steps on the path, and then the creak on the wooden steps on the porch.

Three quarter the way up the side of the cane was the stainless steal bird with a long beak. Ibis pressed the bird down, and a long blade emerged from the end of the cane, pressed it again to retract the blade.

Then he unscrewed the steal top of the cane itself. Packed at the top was a shotgun round, a bangstick. The first person to come through would get a face full of buckshot. But that wasn't all. Ibis also kept a snubnosed revolver, which he had never had reason to use.

"Ibis, what are you doin'" It was Fantasia, wondering why the old man delayed.

The girl had come back to find out why the old man delayed, and in doing so might have lost her chance to escape.

Ibis put his finger to his mouth again, signalling silence. Then he mouthed the words. "MAKE NOISE." Cerebus, inched backwards and crouched down for the pounce.

Fantaisia in the kitchen was banging pans.

Creaks on the wood outside. Heavy men with quiet footsteps. Ibis steadied the bangstick as the door knob turned open.

 

[Rogue Hex]

OOC- This is a little long, but brings them back up to pace with whats happening with the death clawes.

IC-

Cerebus growled lowly showing his dislike with the approaching men.
Ibis glanced at the dog and hushed him quietly, “You’ll get your chance.” He whispered.
The loud clinching noise hailing from the kitchen made the aggressors slightly nervous as they mounted the wooden porch and prepared to open the rusty old front door.

Placing his hand on the door knob and turning slightly, the large man faced the others, He showed a hand signal and mimed the numbers as he lowered a figure at a time, “1....2....3..” The guy bursed through the door with his comrades closely behind, his face turned to horror as he saw what a waited. Unable to stop his sudden momentum he raised the 9mm he was wielding but not fast enough, Aiming steadily, Ibis fired the Bangstick in to the mans face, partially decapitating the guy who fell lifelessly to the ground.

The other two men were over come with confusion, not expecting the sudden shot; the first in line was met with a worse fate however as Cerebus snarled loudly and pounced. The heavy weight of the dog took the guy to the ground knocking his weapon from his grasp and any chance of survival went with it as the three headed dog made quick work on the mans figure.

The third levelled his gun and aimed at the creatures boxer head. Ibis who had dropped the Bangstick and drawn the blade, threw his weight on the final man causing his shot to hit in the background.

They struggled on the flaw, fighting for control of the weapon; the man stronger than Ibis over powered him, wrenching the gun from his grasp and shoved into Ibis's gut. Ibis held his breath stongly as he felt the steel barrel being pushed against him.

Cerebus, now finished and confident that his target wasn’t getting back up again, turned and growled menacingly showing three sets of shredding teeth.

“Call that thing off or this will be the last day of your life old man.” Screamed the dark man as Cerebus began to inch his way closer growling as though he know what was going on.

Ibis made a short whistle, and the dog slowly backed off, still with its eyes fixed on the aggressor, waiting...

The man stood up, keeping Ibis in his line of fire, moved slowly backwards.

Then, as though from no where, a Sharpe pain filled his temple. As his vision blurred, the tall man dropped to his knees, unable to see Fantasia stoop behind him wielding a rusty looking pan.

The man tried to make it to his feet, but any further attempt at movement was ceased as Cerebus got the moment he’d being waiting for. The large dog ended the dazed man’s life with a crunching attack to his face and side. Not much was left of him when the Cerebus finally relinquished its grasp over the dead man.

Ibis stood up and looked at Fantasia, she just smiled back to him. Any normal girl her age would have been at least slightly shocked by the situation that had gone past. Ibis just shrugged, guess that’s what the streets do to a girl he thought to himself.
He turned to look at Cerebus who was sitting contently on its hind legs covering the dead body as though making sure it didn’t try to move again. He patted the dogs head gently, “Good dog.” He said casually.

“We should get the hell out of here before more guests decide to drop in un expectedly.” Said Ibis pointing to the door. Fantasia agreed swiftly follwoing.

They moved through the streets quickly, un sure if anyone else would recognise them.

“Where we going?” Fantasia asked looking over at Ibis.

“I don’t know, I figure they want you dead for what that raider friend of yours told you. We need to get you to some place safe, where they won’t look.” Replied Ibis casually.

“Yacobs seems like a good place to try, little gets through him.”

The two made there way to the Rusty Nail, it wasn’t far from Fantasias house so the journey was short and sweet.

Ibis pushed open the bar doors, only to be met be Yacobs frustrated face.

“Damn it, I’ve been looking all over for you.” Shouted Yacob annoyingly.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Getting shot.” Ibis replied smiling. “Shot at?” Yacob asked, not expecting that answer from his old friend.

“This girl, she needs hiding, she knows much about what’s being going on. I fear they want her dead and will make another attempt before the nights out.” Exclaimed Ibis pointing to Fantasia.

Yacob shouted to his wife and waved her over. “Take the girl and hide her in our room, they wont look there.” He comanded.

“Wait, what’s going on, what’s happening.” The woman protested.

“Just do it, believe me the less you know the better.” Yacob answered.

His wife’s eyes flashed at him, she didn’t like not knowing what was going on. But the tone of her mans voice proved other wise and was proberly for the best. She took the girl and disappeared behind the bar.
Ibis, knelt down next to Cerebus, he whispered something to the dog and patted it gently on the head. Cerebus responded by licking his owners hand before trotting off after the women and Fantasia.

He turned to face Yacob, “What the hells going on?” Yacob already heading for the door.

“No time for talk, I’ll explain on the way.” Shouted Yacob over his shoulder.

The two men exited the bar and headed for Keldren’s house.

=========

Horus banged on Keldren’s door, waiting for the man to open the large doubled door of think old wood.

The sound of multiple locks could be heard before the door eventually cracked open.
A small, elderly man appeared, glancing out of the only slightly open doors.

“Horus?” The old man looked over the two, before un locking the door fully and swinging it open.

“What’s going on?” The man asked curiously as his two visitors barged in past him.

“Deathclaws.” Horus came back.

“What, where?”

“Over at the park, some people are stuck in the old fort.” Horus said, “We need some weapons to get’em out, Yacob said to come here.”

“Aye, best come this way then.” The old man answered leading the two down an old corridor, before stopping in front of what looked like a steel vault door.

“In the park you say, bah I give them a couple of hours before they are stormed.” The old man croaked as he un locked the large door.

“What?” Rogue hissed, not to happy at the mans comment.

“Aye girl, t’is the season, they will be awake and aware now especially at night. Where is old Yacob anyways?”

“He’s gone to get a doctor; one of them is injured badly.” Horus replied anxiously waiting for keldren to open the door.

“Injured...was he bleeding?” Keldren quizzed.

“Yes, why?” Replied Rogue not sure that she was going to like whats was about to come.

“Aye, make that less than a couple of hours, those claws will be hungry and all, smell blood from a mile away they can.”

Rogue felt her stomach churn at Keldren’s words, she knew little about deathclaws but she didn’t doubt the old mans warning. She prayed that her friends were still among the living.

The door made a loud creak as it eased open. Keldren sparked a lamp and hung it on the door. He turned to Horus.

“Take your pick boy.” He said grinning.

Horus eyes lit up, Rogues as well, the young girl had never seen so much fire power.

“Those raiders left a hell of a lot behind when the went, added nicely to my little stock.” Said Keldren smiling even more.

Horus walked into the room, he looked over some of the larger weapons, but knowing deathclaws as he did, nothing worked better against there thick hide than fire.
He lifted the gleaming flamer from the rack, the new metal sparkling in the small light produced from the lamp.

“She’s a beauty aint she.” Keldren laughed watching Horus bond with the weapon. “Got her of some merchants not so long back.”

Horus picked another from the rack and handed it to Rogue, “this will work best against them, especially if there are many.” He grabbed some refill fuel and placed it in a small sack the keldren had produced.

“What about these.” Rogue asked throwing a grenade over to Horus. “Yea...these might come in handy.” He replied as rogue pocketed some and placed more in the bag.

Horus looked around, “Got anything for making more fire?” he asked turing to look at Keldren.

Kaldren rubbed his chin smoothly, "I got some incendiary grenades, but only a couple if they could help?” He replied.

“All goes to the cause, the more fire and light the better.” Horus frowned, “Oh, that shot gun as well, Yacob will use nothing else.”

Horus, satisfied with what he had, returned to the door. He didn’t have to wait long before there came a knock at the door followed by Yacobs voice.

“You ready?” Yacob asked.

His younger brother smiled, throwing the shotgun his way. “Nice.” laughed Yacob examining the gun.

Kaldren stood at the door, “Good luck and good hunting, if I were a little younger I would be by your side.”

Yacob laughed a deep laugh, “The spirits still there I see.” He joked.

“I pay you back for this friend.”
Kaldren only waved the four along, "consider it one of your many favours repaid.” He shouted after Yacob as he and the others set off.

Ibis stepped forward besides Rogue, please to meet you Rogue, I’ve heard some what about you. The names Ibis."
Rogue looked at the old man, his worn visage told many story's, "Pleased to meet you too." Rogue replyed, not quite sure how the old man had known her name.

Rogue looked over at Yacob, “We need to take the sewers, Skik will be waiting for us there.”

Yacob pondered on the words for a moment, “No, the sewers take time, time we may not have.”

"The old way in?" Horus asked.

"Aye, could be the only way." Yacob replied as he cocked his now loaded shot gun.

 

[welsh]

Caleb and Gabriel- beginning to talk?

"Ah Shit, he's bleeding again." Caleb said, inspecting Grim's wounds.

The bandages were red and when he unwrapped them, he saw that the wound was again oozing blood.

"How bad?" Asked Gabriel.

"It's not good. He's wounds ruptured and I am guessing the pscyho has his heart in overdrive."

"Can you slow it?"

"I don't know. But I'm going to need that synthetic plasma and a seditive for his heart. "

Gabriel was on it. His training as a killer had included valuable knowledge of human anatomy as well as the basics of field medicine.

Gabriel handed a syringe of seditive to the gunslinger and a bottle of alcohol. The gunslinger splashed the alcohol on his hands while the assassin prepared to give the bounty hunter the plasma intravenously.

"I hope this isn't ghoul plasma." Said the assassin.

"Well for sure Grim won't be happy of his dick falls off." Said the gunslinger as he injected the bounty hunter with seditive.

The humor helped take the edge off.

Then the gunslinger reappraised the assassin.

"I'm don't trust you, and I don't even know if I like you. But that was a brave thing you did back there, and I guess I owe you."
Said Caleb.

 

[Reaper]

Gabriel considered Caleb's words. The Blade had no real reason to trust him, excluding running into a park full of deathclaws to give him a chance to escape but then that could have been a ploy. The assassin suppressed a chuckle.

"Well now it looks like I owe him," he said, indicating Grim. "If he hadn't charged out with that flamer and kept the pack occupied, I would have been overwhelmed in seconds." Gabriel sighed. "I managed to kill one deathclaw in hand to hand combat. My guns aren't powerful enough to do them any real damage and I'm not enough of a marksman to shoot for the eyes on something that moves as fast as a Deathclaw."

Caleb's eyes widened for moment when he heard Gabriel claim to have squared off against a deathclaw and won, but he concealed his surprise before the assassin noticed.

"You took down deathclaw? Up close?" asked the gunfighter, the ring of disbelief in his voice, recognisable but not complete. Caleb could just imagine it as possible, but not ready to take the assassin's word for anything yet.

"I disembowelled one and sliced up another. The second one got away before I could finish it." Gabriel chuckled. "Hell, we both got away. The big fucker was set to kill me, but I wasn't going down without a fight. It wasn't over by a long shot but I knew it would get me in the end." The assassin stood, still holding the bag of plasma, squeezing it gently to pump the sustaining substance into the unconscious bounty hunter. Lifting his left arm, Gabriel revealed the four long tears in his vest. Blood was flowing slowly through the torn material. "The bastard got me good." he commented.

"Oh fuck." whispered Caleb, staring at the wound. Despite his mistrust, he cared that Gabriel had been injured while trying to save his hide. "I'll take a look at that in minute. Once we're down with Grim here." Gabriel nodded gratefully, his teeth gritted against the pain. Caleb now understood why the young man's jaw had been tightening since he returned, at first he thought it was the tension but Gabriel seemed so calm all the time, so nerves seemed like a ridiculous idea.

Caleb checked Grim's vitals. He was stable for now but the drug had taken a dreadful toll. Speeding up his entire system had opened all his wounds as the blood pumped round his body so furiously and now his blood loss was becoming a serious problem. If a doctor didn't arrive soon, Grim could bleed out.

"Let me take a look at that. We got some spare bandages, shouldn't matter to Grim. The should be enough to go around." he crouched and rummaged in Grim's pack, pulling out their limited medical supplies. "Shit, if I go travelling with you folks again, I'm gonna bring a crate of this stuff." both men laughed but Gabriel's turned into a grunt of pain. The adrenalin of the battle with the deathclaws was bleeding off and in its place, pain was lancing through the assassin's body.

Handing the plasma pack to Caleb, Gabriel leaned against a box and unstrapped his night-camouflage Kevlar vest. He dropped the thin protective armour to the floor and began trying to pull his black under shirt over his head but he couldn't lift his left arm very high. He gritted his teeth, not in pain but in embarrassment and humiliation.

"Could you help me?" he asked Caleb. The anger was palpable in his voice. No warrior wants to show weakness, not even in front of old comrades.

The Blade moved behind Gabriel and helped him pull the right side of the long-sleeved T-shirt over his head. Then it was easy to slide the garment down his left arm and off, joining the discarded armour on the floor. Caleb walked back round in front of the assassin, focusing on the four bleeding tears in his side. He picked up the med kit and searched for some bandages. Turning back to face Gabriel he looked him up and down.

The assassin's bare torso was a rippling mass of muscle. For someone so slimly built, Caleb was surprised at the extent of Gabriel's musculature. He supposed that Up-close specialists had to hone their bodies to the peak of physical fitness because in nose to nose combat, it all came down to skill, speed and strength.

"What's it look like, Doc?" asked Gabriel, "Am ever gonna be able to have kids?"

Caleb smiled, he still didn't trust Gabriel but he was beginning to like him. Not a very good combination, mistrust and friendship, he thought soberly.

"Give me a minute, boy. I should be able to patch up this bastard but no more dancing with those monsters out there. You need to keep as still as possible and let bandages hold the wounds closed."
commanded the gunfighter as he crouched beside Gabriel and began working. "What happened with the second deathclaw?" he asked.

"What?" replied Gabriel.

"You said you sliced him up but you both got away. What did you mean?"

"Ah," Gabriel stiffened as Caleb yanked one bandage tight, "We were about to tussle one last time. I had sliced off a few of his fingers when we first fought and the deathclaw was real pissed. I knew it was going to finish me. I was wounded and tired, he was just getting started." he sighed, remembering how ready he was to die then, surprised by his mettle. He hadn't run off into the darkness with the intention of dying but when it looked certain, he realised that he hadn't cared all the much. He was going to die in battle, the way he always expected. The deathclaw hadn't been part of his expectations but then most people never met a deathclaw in their life. He looked at Caleb who was finishing tying the bandages around his lower torso, wrapping his stomach and side in red-stained white. "We both charged and then a flare went off." he laughed, "So then we both ran away from the light."

"What?" said Caleb, confused.

"Deathclaw's don't like bright light. Everyone knows that, right."

"Yeah, that's why I sent up the flare."

"Okay, but you didn't know that I can't stand bright light either. Fucks my eyes up and I can't see anything. So the deathclaw and me went our separate ways. He couldn't find me and I didn't want to find him." Gabriel grinned. "That's when I made my run for the fort. I had a little trouble with hitting a few trees on the way back but I got here. You scared the deathclaw away, thus saving my life. That makes us even by my count."

Caleb was speechless for a moment.
"But I blinded you."

"You blinded the deathclaw. I knew what had happened, the deathclaw didn't so it was afraid. I wasn't. I could think straight and get away. The deathclaw just ran for the darkest place it could find." he coughed, "Besides, you didn't know I'm unnaturally sensitive to light. That's what Nightblade training does to you. Makes you unfit for normal situations but perfect at dealing with bad situations, like near pitch darkness. If there is some light, no matter how dim, I'll be able to see. Pitch darkness leaves me as blind as anyone else, my eyes can only amplify light if it's there in the first place."

Caleb stayed silent, chewing over what Gabriel had said.
"Nightblade?" he asked. Now we're coming to it though Gabriel.

"That was why I was following you. I wasn't expecting you to be in Tabis but my assignment as a Nightblade was to assess the town's condition and stability since the recent troubles. You, being involved in those troubles, fall under my remit for investigation and I had to find out what would make you return here. I didn't want to follow you into the sewers but some old man told me to find you and give you a message. He said, 'in the thousand years of blight, after the sun has torched the earth, and the land is poisoned in barren, tell him the Four Horseman cross the land and will take all that stand in their way. That the Horsemen and the Darkman serve the same master, and tell him his master is hungry for blood and that 'while the Dark man has stole Mr. Death's chariot, that Grandpa Death waits for the Blade with open arms and will take the Blade and his companions, and will ferry them across the dry river to find his lost comrades'."

Gabriel tried to read Caleb's face but it was impassive and stony as always. "He seemed to think you'd know what that means."

Caleb grunted a reply, obviously lost in thought.

"You said you were a Nightblade. What the hell is that?" he asked, still more concerned with Gabriel than Ibis' cryptic message.

"Nightblades are specially trained Slayers, the covert operatives of the Order. I'm a Slayer, just a lot different from the regular kind. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to sneak up on people when you are wearing power-armour." Gabriel chuckled. "Now, I'm telling you this, partly because you held a gun to my head because you didn't trust me but mainly because you saved my life and the least I can offer you is an explanation. But if you tell anyone without my authorisation, I will have to kill you and whomever you tell and then return to my base in disgrace and face punishment. The Slayers are not a forgiving bunch."

Caleb was taken aback. He remained silent again, thinking of how to respond to Gabriel's revelation.

 

[Gunslinger]

OOC- Man, I hate it when it falls on me to reply. Okay here goes a rushed effort. BTW, I’m dead sick right now. Hope it ain’t SARS. Doesn’t mean I won’t post just means my post might be a bit short.

IC-

Caleb scratched the line of his jaw in thought, feeling the bristles of stubble there. His cheeks wrinkled in a grimace. Normally clean-shaven, he wished desperately for a razor, his only nonessential.

He looked down at Grim who lay down on the clean linen bed, possibly his deathbed. The bounty hunter’s chest rose at a regular rate but Caleb didn’t like the whistling rasp emitting from his lungs. The once cleanly wrapped bandages were now soaked with blood. Another plasma transfusion might be required if Grim’s wounds didn’t clot.

The wizened Blade suddenly felt tired beyond any measure. The drooping weariness was even greater than the fatigue he had felt in the desert. But now, his exhaustion was mingled with a feeling of helplessness. If Grim died now, it would have been all for this lone stranger.

“I don’t like being followed,” muttered Caleb underneath his breath. “It’s a coward’s ploy.” There was just a trace of stubborn reproach in his voice. He kept his eyes planted on Grim’s still body. Caleb would have hewed off his shooting fingers just for one measly stimpack.

Gabriel did not seem to notice the agony in Caleb’s voice. Nor did he seemed faze by Caleb’s implied criticism. His pale blue, bombardier eyes did not flinch. Yeah, he was one cool customer. “It was necessary,” explained Gabriel, without attempting to apologize or justify himself. Caleb could appreciate that, at least.

“Still, I don’t like it. It’s like the Secret Police, Gabriel. Now what makes a fine young man like you stoop to this cloak and daggers shit?” The Blade shook his head in dismay. He was a Blade, after all. Straightforward and earnest.

“That’s just what a Nightblade does, Caleb,” explained Gabriel in that same patient and emotionless tone. “Our tactics are a necessary evil to help the towns.”

That gained Gabriel an exasperated chuckle from Caleb. “And just what makes you think the towns need your help?”

Gabriel blinked once and then raised his hands in an all-encompassing gesture. “Why, just look at this town, Caleb. It’s practically falling apart on its hinges.”

“And so much help you did to prevent it, Slayer,” spat Caleb. He thrust a finger in Gabriel’s chest and glowered at the young man.

“We did what we could. Our brother Fang was sent to fight against the raiders. We had just received word of the raider occupation and Fang was the only Slayer we could send in short notice. Others were sent afterwards to fight in the sewers.”

Caleb nodded. He remembered Fang, all right. While he, Grim, and Rogue were out fighting against an army of raiders, Fang was somewhere doing something else. Caleb wasn’t exactly sure at how much damage Fang had done. “But now Fang’s gone, Gabe,” retorted Caleb. “Once all the fighting is finished, he just bailed!”

Gabriel spread his hands in a placating gesture. “Easy, Caleb. Even the Slayers don’t know what happened to Fang. We lost all contact with him after the sewers. We’re presuming him MIA but not dead. Fang won’t just fall down and die against a bunch of raiders. My secondary objective is to either find Fang or find out what happened to him. We don’t leave one of our own to die.”

Caleb had to give Gabriel some grudging respect. His quest to find out what happened to one of his brothers was startling similar to Caleb’s own quest. The old Blade peered into Gabriel’s icy cool eyes, once again noticing the stark similarities.

But here came Caleb’s last question, the one on which the Blade would judge upon and then lay his verdict. “But what do the Slayers want with all of this? What are their motives?”

Gabriel did not think long on his answers. “We’re just here to keep the peace, Caleb. Our duty is to protect the world from itself.” A cryptic answer but a satisfying one. Hell, it was a Blade answer.

Caleb extended his arm. “Welcome aboard, young blood.”

Gabriel clasped it and the young Nightblade and old Blade shook on it.

===========
MEANWHILE
===========

Neil waited, poised one ladder rung underneath the manhole. His shotgun was held loosely in one hand. The sergeant licked his dry lips nervously.

Paul waited underneath him, looking up with intensely wide eyes. The two Desert Eagles were in his hands but the younger cop had forgotten about them. He was intently concentrating on the battle taking place above them.

The two cops did not exchange a word. Their breaths were stilled and grating in their lungs. Above them, they could hear the muffled sounds of gunfire and explosions. It was all unnerving.

And then, the riot of noise suddenly stopped. Neil waited for what felt like an eternity, waiting for the battle to start again. But silence only prevailed.

“The fighting stopped,” whispered Paul, not daring to defile the sanctity of the silence. His eyes blared and shifted at the manhole above them.

Neil swallowed hard. His mouth felt suddenly dry but his palms felt sweaty. This was it. The sergeant pointed the shotgun at the manhole. “You ready?” he asked Paul.

But Paul was more than ready. He was practically jumping up and down in anxiety. “Yeah, yeah, yeah! Bring it on,” piped Paul, hyping himself up. But Neil knew that he was just drowning out his fear with bravado.

“Okay.” He wiped the sweat from his brows. “Okay,” Neil repeated, suddenly out of breath. “Here’s the plan. I’m going to pop this manhole and storm up. You follow behind me. But if you hear a gunshot, stay back. Do not come up, no matter what. You hear me?”

Paul nodded. “Roger, Blue Boy One.”

“Attaboy. But if you get the all clear, then get your ass up here in a hurry. Once we’re both up, we storm to the closest cover. No shooting.”

“Oh boy. Okay. Okay. Okay,” Paul chanted, as he shook himself and cracked his knuckles. “Alright, now I’m ready.” He stuck one Desert Eagle into the waistband of his pants but kept one out.

Neil nodded. Without preamble, he pushed away the manhole and climbed up.

The two cops crawled from a disgusting sewers filled with slaver corpses to a disgusting park filled with deathclaw corpses.

 

[welsh]

A company of rescuers in route

MEANWHILE In TABIS---

Quietly Yacob had spread the word that men were needed to rescue people trapped at the Fort. A few trusted men had volunteered their services. One, a caravan guard that Rogue knew from the trip from Grey Cliffs. Another was sergeant of the border patrol, in combat armor and carrying a Vindicator, along with two other Border Patrolmen of lesser rank.

That border patrol men, a quiet man named Wheeler, took point. His heavy weapon would provide the necessary fire suppression. One of the other patrolmen, carrying a flamer, and Horus walked on either side.

Behind them walked Yacob. His combat shotgun was loaded with flechette rounds which could shred even the thick skin of a Deatchlaw. Slung over his shoulder was an old grenade launcher and across his chest was a bandoleer of 40 mm grenades.

Behind them was the cart, Ibis at the reigns and Rogue sitting next to him. "Just mind the Brahma," Said Ibis to Rogue. "They don't like the sting of fire on their asses. And Mind you, if they fart point it in another direction. Damn Brahma farts are explosive."

The third patrolman, armed with a snipers rifle and riding behind in the cart, chuckled at the jest.

The rear guard was the the caravan guard, also with a flamer, with two other drinking buddies, each armed with shotguns.

The group was small but heavily armed, with grenades, flamers and shotguns borrowed from Kaldren's stock. Yacob had chosen to keep the group small, and to only those he could trust. Not for the first time would the people of Tabis go out to Wainright Park for a rescue. It was dangerous but necessary work. The last time had involved a group of children who had gone off to the fort on an adventure, and town had barely enough time to retreive them before nightfall. They had lost a pair of men on that trip. This was different. This was after dark. More, Grim's business of the past few weeks in Tabis had raised suspicions. Attracting the local constables might not have been the right course.

Behind Ibis was a large medical kit and a surgical kit, as well as synthetic blood and plasma, as well as food, flamer fuel and ammunition.

"It's been a long time.. I am not sure if I remember...." complained Ibis.

"You''ll be fine. Ibis, After all, you delivered Horus." reassured Yacob.

"Exactly. Look what monster I took out of your poor mother." replied Ibis.

Ibis missed the comfort of Cerebus, but the big dog was better protecting Fantasia. Here the dog might take it upon himself to chase a Deatclaw into some ruined building.

It was a common trick. Deathclaw would lure packs of dogs into buildings were a swarm of the monsters would wait. Deathclaw had a much deserved reputation not only for speed and ferocity, but cleverness.

No one mentioned Fantasia. It was better that fewer lips knew that secret.

They moved at a pretty quick pace, moving off the streets and then through a gate, guarded by a small group of heavily armed constables.

"Hold up there, " The head guard spoke, a police sergeant. "Where you all think you're going."

"We got friends at the fort in Wainright park." Said Yacob.

"Then they're probably dead by now. Yacob? That's not a safe place to go at this hour. Saw some light from that direction a little while ago. But I figured it was raiders holding out. Bad place for it though."

"Not raiders, personal friends. Can I speak to you privately." Said Yacob.

Yacob and the policeman spoke, and Rogue saw the sergeant shake his head. Then Yacob slipped a small bag into the sergeant's head. The sergeant again shook his head.

"Damn foolishness, alright, open the gate." He called up.

Without another word the gate opened and and the party passed through onto an pre-war elevated road. Yacob called back to the sergeant, "Any sightings?" Sometimes deathclaw were able to come up on the elevated road and would near the gate for scraps.

"Not on the road, least not in these parts, but be careful near the end, ya hear?"

Yacob nodded.

Rogue kept her peace, trying to take what rest she could. "Is this safe? " She asked Ibis. Parts of the pre-war road were missing.

"Safer than going through deatchlaw country." Replied Yacob,

Horus continued his brother's thoughts. "Deathclaw are damned fast. If we went through the streets below, they'd be all around us in a second with only those flamers to keep them off. I reckon these 40 mm flares would help scare 'em. Even so they'd either pick us off one at a time, or we'd create a fire wall all around us and then be immobile."

"What about the flares?" Asked one of the caravan guards.

"Oh they might light 'em up, sure, but these flares are pretty inaccurate." Said Yacob, " Better we use them for illumination. These deathclaws don't care for light. Speaking of which..."

Yacob unslung the grenade launcher and loaded a 40 mm star shell. Then casually, he aimed it up into the air. "Now don't stare at this thing or it''ll blind ya." He said to the group and then fired.

The flare went high into the sky, a brilliant white rocket that illuminated the ground in a harsh white light. Turning away, Rogue looked below, into the abandoned ruins of the Wainright neighborhood. She could seem them, in the shadows, their large dark shapes almost hidden, scurrying for darker places. There were so many.

Hopefully those at the fort saw the light.

"My Lord, " Said Rogue under her breath, as she watched the deathclaw scurry beneath her. "There are so many of them. Why don't they move on." She asked.

"Natural instincts probably. They don't like all the noise of town but prefer to live in large packs." Said Horus. "Besides there are natural barriers. Most of Wairnright is cut off by a sunken interstate, and most of the bridges are down. They can still escape, but there are few points for them to do so. This is one of the few ways in."

Light posts and down wires littered the elevated road and abandoned derelict automobiles littered either side. But the road had been cleared for just this purpose, a like a way into a tiger's dead without leaving the trees.

"How far does this go? " asked Rogue..

"Not far enough, I fear. " Said Yacob. "We''ll get close but in the end we'll have to fight our way through. But by then, it should be dawn and most of them will be gone."

"They don't climb do they?" asked the caravan guards from behind.

Wheeler, The border patrol sergeant on point, stopped and looked at Horus for an answer. Horus shrugged. Horus looked at Yacob who merely shrugged. They didn't know.

"Wonderful." muttered Wheeler.

Rogue tightened up on her flamer. Below she could hear scratching sounds. The deathclaw knew where they were and were scatching at the supports of the elevated road.

One of the forward patrol men, leaned over the side of the highway,"Can't see em."

Yacob fired another starshell into the sky.

"Oh yeah, there down there and they ain't happy. But I don't see 'em climbing."

"Well never you mind," said the older patrolmen. "we'll be coming to the end of the highway, and then you'll have plenty of action.

Ibis whispered to Rogue. "Don't worry, Laura, your friends are safe and you will reunite."

"How do you know my name?" Asked Rogue, her name being one of her most well kept secrets.

"Might as well ask me how I know your friends are safe and that you will be reunited with them soon enough. I fear Lucas is walking the borderlands again, but he should come through it. His ties to this land are too strong, the little girl keeps him here."

'Lucas?" Rogue asked.

"Your Mr. Grimm. He has roads to travel although he has only recently realized it."

"Forgive me, but I don't believe in visionaries of psychics. I've seen that con played before. "

"That's alright. I see many things, but I don't understand it all." Said Ibis, "Maybe its the age, I don't know. But I know not everyone reaches their destiny. The future is uncertain. The Blade and the youngster for instance, not to mentioned the rotting one."

"What of my friends?"

"Destiny and Fate, are uncertain pathsl. Sometime only ghosts reach their destinations. Sometimes those we seek are ghosts."

"You said they are in danger."

"Every moment is a danger."

The old man was cryptic and unsettling. Still....

"What do you see of my future?"

"Are you sure you want to see it?" Asked Ibis.

Rogue paused.

Far ahead, Rogue could make out another gate across the elevated road, as the road dipped down into the ruined neighborhood. Behind that, ruined or collapsed two story houses, dark now and ominous.

Yacob called out, "Alright, here we wait. "

"Why? Grim needs help. Your his friend. " Rogue complained.

The sniper patrolman behind her put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "He's right. We'll do no good for your friend if we go now. We wouldn't get 50 yards past that gate before they'd be upon us,"

The men spread out now and waited. Rogue looked at the sky. It is always darkest before the dawn, and by her estimate dawn was still an hour away.

"Ok" Said Rogue to Ibis.

"Ok?" Asked Ibis.

"Yes, telll me."

"Then tell me what you remember." Said Ibis.

MEANWHILE----

Behind the group of rescuers another group of desperate men gathered near the gate to the elevated road. This group, fewer in number then before, were hungry for revenge and for blood. Too many of their number had been lost in the sewars below Tabis.

The rule of the slavers was a simple one. "Blood for blood."

The police sergeant watched as they gather below the gate, and whispered to his second. "How many?"

"Not sure, I keep losing my count at 30. Are you going to let them pass?"

The slavers had gathered quickly. And never had he seen slavers carrying such heavy artillery.

"I don't think we have much choice."

"If you let them past, they'll come up behind Yacob's group." Said the younger man.

The police sergeant looked at his crew. There were normally only four guards on the gate. There mission was to hold the gate if attacked by hoards of deathclaw until relieved. Not to prevent a hoard of slavers to go out into deathclaw country. The sergeant had already dispatched a guard to fetch help from the station. But it wound't come in time.

"What happens out there tonight will stay out there. Nothing we can do here will stop that." said the sergeant. "When they want through, let the gate open. Then make sure the gate is locked behind them."

"What about..." protested the guard.

"Shut up. Do you think I like this. But Yacob can take care of himself. As for the slavers, let the deathclaws have them."

OOC-
OK Rogue, now you and company is between a rock and a hard place, this should be an interesting event, But note that when the sun comes up you should be able to retreat into the fort.

Skik? What's up? Any luck with Fang?

 

[Rogue Hex]

IC-

“What I re...remember?” Rogue stuttered at the question.

“I’ve...well, I’ve never told any one this before, I don’t know why I’m telling you this now but....” Rogue couldn’t explain it. For some reason she felt compelled to tell Ibis what she remembered of her past. As though she needed to let some one in, someone to share what was left of her memories with.

Ibis looked at the young girl in front of him, “Its ok child, you can tell what of your past.” He whispered softly.

“I...I remember little of past life before it happened.”

Ibis comforted Rogue to go on, already an idea of what was going to come next but needed to hear it from the girl herself. “Before what happened?”

“Before the cold day, before they came.” Rogue said coldly as if she were scared of her own memories.

“Who came Laura?” Ibis asked quietly.

“I don’t know, they were...were so cold, the feeling was cold, so full of hatred.” Rogue’s eyes were closed, her hands slightly trembling as she re-opened memories that had long been buried but not forgotten.

“They were shouting, my father, he...he, they were shouting at him. They were saying the same words, always the same words, nobody can stop us, and over and over...nobody can stop us, no matter what happens.” Rogue said, repeating the words over and over to herself. “Nobody can stop us...”

“What of your mother Laura, what happened to her?” Ibis asked, once again trying to sound as comforting as possible.

“My mother, she...she shouted them to stop, to leave us alone, they wouldn’t listen...so cold.” Rogue went on. “They pushed her down, kept her down, my...my father shouted but they took him out side, they took him away...”

“Your brother Laura, what happened to him, what happened him?”
“He...he...he tried to stay with me as father said, he always tried to protect me, look out for me, no matter what happened he would be there to watch over me. They took him, he tried to protect me, but they took him.” Rogue said with great sadness now overwhelming her.

“The cold, it...it said that I would be left for them to decide what to do with me, But there were no them, just coldness...so much coldness.”

“What happened after that?” Ibis asked.

Rogue replied in a single word, “Darkness.”

"I awoke after that, I’m not sure when, some time after, my family were gone, and they were all gone. I ...I didn’t know what to do, I went to the house and waited...waited for them to return as though nothing had happened.” Rogue said as though she were ashamed of something.

“Some caravan came, not to long after, they took me with them, said that I would die if I didn’t go with them, so I did.” Rogue said opening her eyes. She was on the verge of tears; memories from her past often reduced her to tears as she couldn't bear not knowing what happened. Why those people had come?

“Why didn’t they take me?” She pleaded with Ibis. “Why didn’t they take my life as well?

Ibis however was unable to find an answer to the question, what he saw for now was UN clear and that could only be changed with time and answers. He did however have one question left to ask. If not to get an answer then to get an expression?

“Laura, What is the thing that follows you through the darkness.”
Rogue froze, her mind racing, she remembered the feeling that had come upon her in the sewers, that cold thought, that it was willing her to it, a feeling she hadn’t had for some time nor did she want to remember.

“I...I don’t know” Replied rogue in a stone cold manner, Ibis noticed that the girl wasn’t trembling this time.

“Its not the first time that you’ve felt its presence is it?” Ibis implied.

“No...Maybe 2 years after I awoke with out my family, I felt it for the first time. The sick feeling that something is always there, watching you no matter what happens. Always watching...” Replied Rogue.

“But the feeling soon becomes a familiar one when its there all the time, as though it’s the only thing that you really know.”

“But it disappeared Laura, why did it go away?”

“Slavers.” She replied, “I got caught in there ambush on a caravan drive, there were many, they came for our provision and for us. I was a guard, with the same caravan that had found me.”

“Was it with you that day?” Ibis asked calmly.
Rogue closed her eyes, “Yes it was there, always there watching but never seen. The slavers came at night, they killed most of us while we slept some of the slavers left after the ambush, and others stayed as did some of the women on the caravan. We were to be their entertainment.”

“They came to me, held me, they were laughing and joking. They said I would enjoy it, what they were going to do to me.”

“Then what happened?” Ibis asked, pressing the girl on to talk.

“It came, its mind grew closer, watching, always watching. Then it happened. There was a scream from outside, panic, a cold feeling was everywhere. The same feeling that filled our house when they came.” Rogue whispered, hardly controlling her self, as though she was a sleep but still talking.

“I fled, I didn’t turn to look, the screams were many and loud, screams of terrors. Panic pushed through the camp. That was the last time i felt it with me, until this day, when I felt it in the sewers. The cold sickly feeling of being watched was once again everywhere around me.” Rogue looked up at Ibis. He was listening contently to what Rogue was saying. Yacob was examining his weapons and checking over his supplies. The other people in the small group were talking between them selves.

Ibis thought about everything that Rogue had told him about her past, things were unclear to him, things still wrapped in darkness. He sat in deep thought for some time without words.

OOC- There we are...what little Rogue remembers about her past. Hopefully Ibis can give her some answers.
What should be done about Skik? He needs to be brought back up the present situation. I will write his search for Wally. I wont post it yet just incase there are any objections...

 

[welsh]

On the bridge

The sun rose in the East on an otherwise cloudy. The last of the slavers had just past the gate and were on the bridge when the sergeant told his men to lock the gate behind them.

Then he told his underlying, "fire up a flare. Perhaps the others will see it as a warning."

The sergeant then called down to the slavers, "We're firing a flare to help illuminate the way."

Fucking Slavers
________

Further along the bridge, Yacob watched the sun rise. In the shadows the deathclaws began to hide, taking cover from the sunlight in the ruins.

But it was a cloudy day, and even if the deathclaw didn't venture in sun, they weren't allergic to daylight either. The rescuers would have to be quick and wary.

"Lets get going, and be careful." Yacob said.

"Yacob look!" Horus pointed from the where they had came.

A single white flare in the distance.

It could only be a warning.

Wheeler, rammed a fresh cartridge in the Vindicator, "There's danger behind us. Danger in front of us. Let's rock this joint."

The border patrol sniper, peering from the cart. "I see 30 or 40 men, heavily armed, following us...... Slavers."

 

[Gunslinger]

OOC- I like this gathering of forces. It’s nifty. We’ve got Rogue, Horus and Yacob, a couple of Border Patrol, and Ibis coming. So I guess it wouldn’t hurt if a pair of cops joined the fray.

IC-

Neil popped open the manhole, easily pushing it off. Someone had already loosened it. The cop reached out and grabbed onto something for leverage. It felt cold and rugged. He immediately withdrew his hand, shuddering in recoil.

“Hurry up, hurry up!” shouted a pent up Paul. “There’s some body coming!”

Neil spared a glance downwards and heard footsteps ringing after them. It sounded more than just one pair of feet. Shaking off his fear, Neil scrambled up the ladder and hauled himself out of the sewers.

As the sergeant scrambled up to his feet, he could see what he had grabbed onto earlier. It was a severed deathclaw arm. “Oh shit!” spat Neil, his heart thundering. He wiped his hand across his pant leg as if the arm contained something contagious.

“Something wrong?” shouted up Paul. There was just a tad bit of fear in his voice.

“N-nothing,” came back Neil’s breaking voice. His wide eyes bore into the ugly piece of meat before his feet. “Get up here.” Neil stepped out of the manhole’s yawning lip and scanned the terrain as Paul climbed up.

“Oh shit!” cried out Paul as he ascended the ladder and reached eye level with the deathclaw arm. “There’s a fucking deathclaw pack here!” The young cop remained suspended on the ladder, eyes planted on the arm.

Neil gestured upwards impatiently. “Hurry up kid! We gotta get some cover!” They were out in the open, in a direct line of sight. A playground was just a few feet ahead of them. Neil didn’t think it would provide enough protection. To their right was a graveyard but it wasn’t exactly the most welcoming place. In the direct center of the park was a fortress.

Paul only considered the arm with wide eyes. Neil scowled and, grabbing his partner’s collar, lifted him bodily up. Paul dropped limply to the ground next to the arm and immediately scrambled away from it. “Oh shit, Neil, oh shit! That’s a fucking deathclaw arm. Neil, a deathclaw!”

“Shaddap and get moving, kid! The deathclaw isn’t what’s bothering me. It’s what killed the deathclaw we should be afraid of.” Neil started running over to the fortress.

The thought of something capable of killing a deathclaw brought a new horror in Paul’s eyes. He scrambled to his feet and ran after Neil.

So much for the plan, thought Neil. He could almost hear the snorting breath of deathclaws. Right now, Neil was only concerned about getting a lot of distance between himself and the deathclaws. There was no sufficient cover to hide behind, only the fortress. And the gaping tear along the perimeter of barbwire could only mean one thing: the deathclaws were somewhere close.

As they ran, cresting many strategically placed hills and obstacles, Neil brought out the Remington 870 and started loading it. A scattergun would do little damage to a deathclaw, even at close range, but Neil would go down fighting at least. Paul followed suit, pulling up the safeties on his Israeli hand cannons.

They ran. Neil sprinted towards the fortress, using his long legs to good use. Behind him, Paul was running his legs off, chanting, “Oh god, I don’t wanna die,” over and over again. Neil didn’t waste the breath to tell him to shut up.

They were just a few yards away from the fortress now. Amazingly enough, the doorway was cracked open. Bullet shells and flare cartridges littered the ground. Whoever had gunned down those deathclaws would be waiting inside the fortress. Neil would take his chances inside the fortress.

The two cops shuffled into the fortress just in time to hear the roars of several deathclaws. Acting quickly, Neil pushed the double doors closed and barred them. He caught the glimpses of moving figures in the shadows before fully closing the doors.

Paul slumped to the floor in relief. He wiped the cuff of his shirt across his brow and sighed. “We’re safe,” managed Paul.

Neil shook his head, scanning the fortress. They were in a hallway that led to three other doors. The door directly in front of them was slightly creaked open. “We ain’t safe just yet,” whispered Neil. He pointed to the door.

Paul got up, following Neil’s finger. A dim light was emanating from the doorway. The two cops exchanged looks and Paul nodded. He leveled the Desert Eagles.

Neil took point, shotgun resting against his hip and leveled at chest height. He tiptoed carefully towards the door. Muffled conversation came out of the room.

The sergeant made it to the doorway and waited. He turned around and looked at Paul, mouthing “Are you ready?” Paul nodded silently, both pistols readied.

Neil took a deep breath and kicked open the door wide. He stormed in.

“Freeze!” he shouted, hefting up the shotgun. There were two men in the room, one on the bed and one right next to him. A lantern rested on a barrel, emitting some light but not enough to completely pierce the shadows.

Neil walked into the center of the room as one of the men stood up. He was an old man dressed in cowboy attire. The sergeant trained the shotgun at him just as the old man reached for the two revolvers at his hip. “Freeze!” Neil shouted again.

The old man glared at Neil for a minute and then raised his hands to the sky. “We ain’t moving,” he mumbled in a gravely voice.

Neil looked over at the other man on the bed. He looked half-dead with old scars healing on his face and new wounds bleeding across his body. Neil laughed dryly. “Naw, I guess your friend isn’t going to be moving. And unless you want to eat a mouthful of buckshot, neither will you.”

Caleb nodded. Where are you, Gabriel? he wondered. This would be a horrible time for the Nightblade to skulk away.

Then Caleb saw him. Gabriel had somehow managed to disappear into the shadows the minute the cop barged in. The old Blade kept his eyes trained on the cop with the shotgun, not wishing to give away Gabriel’s presence.

The young Nightblade drew his panga and began sneaking up behind the cop. Gabriel had just gotten out of the shadows when another cop barged through the doorway. “Not so fast!” bellowed Paul, pointing both Desert Eagles at the assassin. “Drop the weapon!”

“Do what he says,” Caleb said, locking eyes with Gabriel. The young man looked like he was planning to take the young man on but Caleb shook his head. The Nightblade dropped the panga onto the ground.

“You tricky bastard,” spat Neil. “You would have let him kill me, wouldn’t you?”

Caleb shrugged his shoulders, arms still raised into the air. “There’s no love lost between us, pork.”

The sergeant narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer. He was about to say something when he noticed the Blade mask covering Caleb’s face. Neil’s eyes widened in surprise and he shouted, “You’re that goddamn Blade! Old man, you’re under arrest on the charge of conspiracy against Tabis.”

The old Blade rolled his eyes, unmindful of the shotgun leveled at his face. “Hell, boy, I’m the one that saved your backwater town. I think you should be giving me a medal, not arresting me.”

Neil’s eyes blazed. How he wished to pull the trigger of the shotgun. “Boy, you’re lucking I don’t sho--”

The rest of Neil’s threat was cut off when something large and growling crashed against the double doors of the fortress.

“Goddamn!” cried out Paul. “The deathclaws are busting through!” The timbers of the double doors were splintering and a few sharp claws cut through them. A few more snarls joined the cry for blood. “What do we do?” Paul lowered his Desert Eagles, now concerned with an even greater enemy.

Neil considered the busting doors with horror. He turned back to Caleb who was calm and waiting.

“What do you say?” asked the Blade, finally. “You can’t arrest us when you’re dead, pork. Let Gabe and I help you fight the deathclaws.” Caleb grinned underneath the mask. “Then you can arrest us.”

The answer was obvious. Neil lowered his shotgun. “I’m trusting you on this, Blade,” he muttered, pointing a callused finger at the old man. “Don’t betray us.”

Caleb did not dignify that with an answer. He started barking out orders. “There’s an armory down the hall to you right. That shotgun might kill humans but it ain’t going to kill a deathclaw. You boys find some serious weapons.” He turned to the assassin. “You, too, Gabriel. You can’t depend on those knives again.”

Before he left, Neil turned to the Blade. “I’m Sergeant Neil Andrasta,” he held out his hand and Caleb took it. He pointed to the younger cop and said, “That’s my partner, Paul Cartwright.”

The young man, blanched and pale, only nodded cordially. He kept his eyes trained on the door.

“I’m Caleb.” The Blade pointed to the Nightblade. “He’s Gabriel. Now get moving.”

The two cops and assassin rushed towards the armory while Caleb climbed the stairs to the top floor with a rifle slung over his shoulder. Inside the armory, Neil fished out a Garand and five eight-round clips. Paul left his Desert Eagles with little remorse, replacing them with a Kalishnokov assault rifle that was just a bit rusted. The young assassin pocketed something from the armory but the cops could not see it.

“Help out the old man,” Neil told the assassin. “And good luck.”

Gabriel nodded, running up the stairs.

The two cops were left downstairs, facing the double doors. Neil started piling out furniture out into the hallway. They hunkered behind yards of footlockers, beds, and other furniture. Neil rested his Garand across a table, unaware that he had assumed the same position Caleb had occupied earlier.

The sergeant licked his dry lips. There was no pray left for them if that door broke open.

Off to his side, Paul was laughing.

“What are you laughing at?” asked Neil with disgust and horror. The doors were cracking and buckling now. Neil pushed up the safety of the rifle.

“You know what would be funny?” laughed Paul. “If we died, Neil. That would be hilarious. If I got killed, leaving my wife and kid without a husband or a daddy.” The rest of Paul’s laughter turned into hysterical and bitter tears.

As the two cops awaited certain death, the assassin and gunslinger scrambled to the top floor, ready to open fire. Grim lay on his bed, comatose and unaware of the coming peril.

 

[welsh]

battle commences- on the bridge

A tall black man watched, through a pair of binoculars, the movements on the elevated highway (known locally as "the El" or "the Elevated"). A flare had gone up as a signal from the police. Certainly help was on the way for the police, and the slaver, or what was left of the slavers, would be trapped between the police and the deathclaws.

The company in the fort, if they survived, would probably be wiped out by either the slavers and the deathclaws, if not immediately, then by day's end.

It was all working out so perfectly. Witnesses were so bothersome.

And soon, he smiled, I'll be ready to go.

_____________

Inside the Fort, Caleb watched the flare go up high in the sky. While inside the fort and attending to Grim, they hadn't noticed the others, fired by Yacob.

Neither warrior knew that flare had been fired by the police, but both took heart. Perhaps help was arriving and this was the signal.

The two warriors, young and old, looked at each other. Both uncertain of this new development. But perhaps, if they could hold out, they might be rescued.

If there were rescuers approaching, the men inside could hear nothing of them.

But they could hear the hammering of the deathclaw below them, hammering away at the double metal doors, and the sound of the wood frame slowly splintering. Just as they could hear the growling and roars of the deathclaw outside the fort, consuming the dead. And the rasps of long sharp laws tearing across the side of the fort, scratching away at the old mortar, perhaps trying to climb up.

And Gabriel and Caleb saw what remained below, a scattering of deathclaws, still braving the light, fighting over the meat below them.

One, wounded and bloodraged, hammering at the door below with both bloody arms.

Gabriel prepared an incindiary grenade.

On the first floor, Paul had found old beams with which to brace the door, perhaps reenforce the frame. It would probably be a futile effort, but it might buy them a few moments.

Neil watched quietly, his shotgun ready.

The armory had provided all it had, and it wasn't much. A few rusted small arms, no heavy weapons at all, and little explosives except the few grenades they had found.
Shells, plenty. But shells were little use againt the powerful hides of deathclaws. Not much, but it would have to do.

Neil had loaded his shotgun and Paul's with the few flechette rounds, and the Desert Eagles with hollow points. First the shotguns would clear out the entry way, then the cops would use the rifles with their longer and harder penetration.

And if they still could, the pistols. After that knives and bare hands.

They could probably kill the first two or three deathclaws that came through, and probably wound a few more.

But after that, the monsters would be upon them, and their limbs would be torn from their bodies.

Paul worked feverishly while Neil calmly enjoyed what he thought would be his last smoke.

____________

Underneath the Fort, in the sewars, there was movement.

________________


On the bridge the last of the slavers approached, anxious to exact their revenge, but also cautious. Their prey was trapped against a wall. The Slavers were many, while the prey were few. The slavers could take their time.

But the would-be rescuers were now active and trying to make their escape.

Ibis whispered to Rogue, "Don't worry, You'll be ok. It's not your time."

Wheeler, who possessed the most military training, reacted quickly and decively, his plans already set. There was little time to hesitate.

To the group he said, "We got to go now. If we stay here they will eventually kill us all. Our weapons are mostly short range, and they will take us from a distance. Our chances are better mixing it up with the Deathclaw. If we can make it to the Fort, we should be alright."

Yacob, Horus, and the caravan guards nodded their assent to the Borderman's leadership.

Wheeler's instructions were sharp. "Ferris and you" indicating the Borderman sniper and Rogue, "try to slow them down, at least keep their heads down."

Ferris, from atop the wagon, turned his precision weapon at their persuers and began taking measured rounds.

A Slaver spun in his tracks and fell, wounded. The others ducked low, and began using the abandoned cars on the Elevated.

Rogue hoped off the cart and ran back towards were Ferris was laying down a steady fire, and took a position next to him, rifle ready

"Yacob" Wheeler pointing to his old friend, "need to make sure that wagon gets to the Fort. Make sure it gets there in one piece and those Brahman survive. You'll need them to ferry out the wounded when this is over. And keep your head down."

"Ibis" Wheeler continued, "They're your Brahman, so you drive the cart and go fast as you can. Make sure those bulls are taken cared of in the Fort."

"You men," indicating the caravan guards and Horus, "those weapons won't help with the slavers. Never mind them. You need to break through to the Fort. Once we clear the gate, don't hesitate, not even if one of you falls. Anything that hints at a deathclaw, burn it. Use the shotguns to blast your way through and the flamers for protection on either side."

"What about you?" Asked Horus.

"We'll go through the gate and use that for a first defense. Try to stall the slavers as long as we can, then follow at a close distance. If we can draw the slavers in and if we can make it to the Fort, then the slavers and the deathclaw will have their own little mix up." Replied Wheeler. He looked around at the the tiny group.
"Everyone got it?" Wheeler looked to each person individually, trying to give what courage he could offer. "Ok, maybe we live till tomorrow but now let's move! move! move!"

The slavers were moving in small groups, using what cover they could, a few of them with hunting rifles, returning fire. Rogue could hear the distinct ding of bullets hitting metal and richocheting away. She waited for Ferris to fire, then the Slavers moved, and she fired. A slaver fell holding his leg. Others ran out and dragged him to safety.

Delay them. But they were coming up fast. And their shots were getting more accurate.

By the Gate, the caravan guards, the bordermen, and Yacob fired at what ever they saw as Yacob worked the gate open. Once open, they threw the doors wide, and swarmed in, shotguns at the ready.

A single Deathclaw left a hiding place and rushed the men. But the men were ready. Their shotgun blasts broke its run, and it collapsed into the dirt, crippled. A caravan guard ran up and torched the monster.

Behind them Ibis urged his Brahman through as the men spread out. A few hundred yards and they would be at the park.

But to get to the park they had to go through Wainright's abandoned residential district. Blocks of old one and two story brick houses, mostly ruined. Within which hid unknown number of deathclaw.

The cart had not passed through the gate when Wheeler called back, "Ok, Ferris, back to the gate. Now!"

Still out on the "El" behind a twisted Dodge Interceptor, Ferris, a young borderman of Rogue's age smiled at the girl. "Ok, lets get back." He waited for Rogue to run, then darted after her.

Rogue could hear the bullets past by her head, urging her for speed. A cry out, and Rogue turned, dropping into a crouch, rifle ready.

Ferris, hit, spun around like he had been tripped, and fell.

Quickly Rogue dashed out to him. Already the man was struggling to his feet.

Reaching under him, she helped him up. "Hold on to me." She told him.

Rogue could hear Wheeler, urging them, "Come on, Come on!"

The sound of Slaver fire louder, closer. A bullet grazes Rogues foot as they hobble for the gate.

"Smoke" calls out Wheeler, and moments later, Rogue can hear the pop of smoke grenades going off behind her.

Together Rogue and Ferris make it to the gate, duck to a side to find cover behind the carcass of an burnt out truck.

The caravan men together try to close the metal grated gate, and then duck back into cover.

"Fuck!" cried out on of the guards, a patch of new redness on his arm.

A large deathclaw, takes advantage of the caravan guards distraction at the gate, rushes from an opened door way. Its movements a blur of energy and speed.

It is almost atop them when Wheeler lowered the Vindicator. The hum of the barrel cycle, the Deathclaw shredded with 4.7 mm ammo.

Ferris, now aiming his long rifle back down the Elevated, firing deliberately and carefully. A crease of red on his hip, a slaver bullet's caress. It will slow him down.

Ibis now moving the cart forward, ahead of his caravan guards, but with Yacob and Horus trotting ahead. The cart had already been hit a few times.

Ibis seemed unperturbed. Crazy old fucker.

Horus firing a building on his left.

Rogue watches it unfold when she ducks behind the car. Its all seems to move so slowly. She can feel the bruise of the rifle butt against her shoulder, and the stinging of her fingers.

Wheeler, the only one with powerful armor, runs to the gate, braving the fire, and throws the lock. The gate is little more than a tall wire fence gate. Rusted with disuse.

Yacob, yelling at the men, "Come on, men, security now! Wheeler, don't you delay!"

"Keep 'em going Yacob, it's up to you, now. Well be behind you shortly. "

The other caravan guards running to catch up with the cart, going to either side.

Rogue turns back, behind cover, reloading her rifle. Two more slavers fallen to her and Ferris's rifles. It doesn't matter if their dead or wounded, she tells herself, just as long as they are delayed.

Wheeler, parallel and across the street from Rogue and Ferris, his back to a brick and mortar wall, preparing the Vindicator. On the ground next to him a pair of grenades.

He whispers something to the third Borderman, a man Rogue the others call Kirk. The man removes another grenade. Smoke.

Wheeler will wait until the slavers are close and then open up with the minigun from close range. Then he will roll back. Kirk will have the last blast for those slavers that got too the gate. Then grenades and smoke, and get out.

Then they will both turn and run, through the city of deathclaw, to catch up with the cart.

Ibis's cart turns a corner and disappears behind a desolate brick building, into the forgotten neighborhood. A neighborhood populated by giant monsters. The last of the caravan guards, turns the corner and then is gone. Wheeler notices it too.

"Ferris, how close?" He calls.

"Two hundred, hundred fifty clicks." Ferris calls back.

"Let them get to 100 then cut loose. Girl," meaning Rogue, "Use that flamer if you have to, but get that boy back to the Fort, pronto. Don't let that damn cart get to far ahead or you'll be Deathclaw chow."

"What about you?" calls back Rogue.

"Don't worry about me. Just do it."

A hundred yards now.

OOC-- Gosh I love battle scenes! OK Rogue, want to take it from here? Skik or Fang, this would be a good time to show up!

 

[Atreides]

OOC: AAAAAAA!!!!! Sorry it's been so long since i updated. I should get something in today. I'll try to post more often in the future.

 

[Rogue Hex]

arrr...sorry for the delay, revision came a calling. But i'm free now so just give me a little bit of time and i'll have this fight rolling...

 

[Atreides]

IC- If the slavers had been more observent they would have seen the shadows around them moveing. If the slavers had been more observent they would have heard a very quiet, high pitched hum. If the the slavers had been more observent they would have noticed a odd smell floating through the air. They wern't observent enough to notice any of these thing. They were observent enough to notice when Skik yelled "Open fire!" and four ghoul snipers let loose.

OOC: Three ghouls and Skik. Skik has swapped out for a micro-wave rifle. One ghoul has a combat shotgun loaded with . One has a grenade launcher (loaded with HE rounds). The last has Skik's microwave pistol. The ghoul with the shotgun is wally.

IC- Rouge took aim on the nearest slaver, put her finger on the trigger, and blinked in confusion as he (And the five slavers nearest him in a straight line) crumbled to ash in a flash of light. The organized slaver attack became as they began takeing fire from both the concealed Ghouls and Rouge's group. Rouge grinned. Much better.

OOC: The fight is still in the slavers favor. But not nearly as much as it was before.

OOC: Sorry this update is so short. But i had to post something I figure the fight scene will be long enough for me to make a longer post.

EDIT: That should have said slavers. not raiders

 

[Jacen]

IC- Rouge took aim on the nearest slaver, put her finger on the trigger, and blinked in confusion as he (And the five raders nearest him in a straight line) crumbled to ash in a flash of light.

OOC- There were no raiders were there???

EDIT: OK, it has been changed I see.