Tribe Blackhawk

[Locke Taelos]

OOC: Not sure what exactly happens in the roleplaying boards, but I figured I'd just take a stab at it. You know, considering the fact that my existence is a pathetic waste and all. I suppose I should discuss what "Tribe Blackhawk" means.

INDIANS

There was an actual Blackhawk tribe of Indians in Western, PA. There's a town named after them which I find ironic since we white men wiped them out for it. Are these Blackhawk the same? Not exactly, in fact, I'm sure there were tons of groups or even people dubbed Blackhawk. This group of people follow in the same footsteps. Every group starts with a name and hence so do the people in this adventure.

WHO, WHAT, WHERE, WHEN, WHY?

Who: What the civilized folk would call Tribals.

What: Tribals, primative folk. Your typical wasteland dweller not committed to city living.

Where: Somewhere near Boulder, Colorado.

When: Post Vault Dweller.

Why: Because we need a good old fashion Cowboys and Injuns tale.

CITIES:

Meeting Grounds: Blackhawk camp. The tribals hardly find any need for naming it since they move periodically.

Boulder: It used to be a thriving city in Colorado. Now its more or less a trading camp and home to the various wastelanders who comb the dirt for survival.

Fort Bergman: Brotherhood of Steel Paladins have recently moved into the area. They're looking for recruits.

Rusty Arrow: Camp consisting of the Bloodraven tribe. These are the enemies of the Blackhawks and they attack each other on sight. They are known by their black and red colors.

NOTE: Tribals may look like you or I. They may where camoflage, tote guns, or even brush their teeth. The only reason why a tribal is a tribal is because they are generally neutral with the world, living in their own packs.

MAIN NPCS:

Harold Fox: Leader of the Blackhawks. He was born shortly after the war had destroyed everything. Harold is very old and realizes that he's teetering alongside the edge of death. His only wish before he passes on is to make sure that his people are safe. In his past, he was a great militaristic leader supervising the infamous Fort Braddox which lasted five years through disease, starvation, and raider attack.

Vargas: Harold Fox's trusted friend and second in command to the Blackhawk tribe. Vargas leads the tribals in defending their territory against the ruthless warriors of the Bloodraven tribe.

Kenny Drake: Bartender of "The Last Drop" in Boulder, Colorado. Kenny's a chain smoker and his chest skips a beat, but he keeps on trucking nontheless. He's a kind, middle-aged fellow and a bit nervous. He keeps his nose outta bad business.

Harry: Harry runs the Trading Post at Boulder. He's in late twenties and has started balding. He's quite sensitive about it. He's quite the hunter; however, and he's been known to close his shop up early in order to go fetch a few pelts himself. You can't miss him. He's the only guy with one of those Russian fur caps on his head.

General Vanderkrantz: Hitler's dream of surpremacy, the blonde hair and blue eyes men and women of tomorrow. The Arian race. Yet something was missing, no power armor. General Vanderkrantz heads the Brotherhood of Steel's introduction to Colorado. He's not your typical general though. This one is quiet and methodical. Hardly seen and rarely heard, this general makes it a habit to study people. He has his eyes set on making a grand kingdom for himself and his brotherhood. Who dare take that dream from him?

Sargeant Bradley Jenkins: Self absorbed and sadistic, Jenkins enjoys abusing his power. His orders from Vanderkrantz are to lead the first detachment of Brotherhood troops into the towns and shanties of Colorado in order to find decent recruits. Yet, Jenkins has other priorites. Milking the villages of their resources: firearms, slaves, and women.

Rayna Two-barrels: The feisty young Amazon leader of the Bloodravens. Rayna is a cutthroat woman who enjoys the smell of victory (and death). Although not necessarily evil, she follows the path of greed and materialism, wishing to eventually carve her way through Colorado.

Ned Gray: A warrior of the Bloodraven tribe. Ned hates having a lot of responsibility and doesn't mind women having more influence than the men of his tribe. This very reason makes Rayna trust him. Although, its more a curse as he does have responsibility. He's one of the few male leaders that the Bloodraven tribe has.

MORE NOTES:

Players can roleplay a character from any of these four areas. My first post should start up the story. Try to keep things balanced though. Conflicts will occur and wars will be made. Also don't rule out treason, as things like that are always exciting.

I suppose any questions or comments can be sent to a mister Brian Black at Wolfsbane@attbi.com

-End OOC

 

[Locke Taelos]

Sunset Mountains

"-Day 21-
Escape 2

Our journey is long and troublesome. The Amazon women of Bloodraven have continued firing down on us as we try to make our way off our blasted mountain. I know just what Harold's going to do when he hears of what happened too. He'll smile at me and say that we'll get a second chance. Yeah I bet Harold. If we make it off this godforsaken mountain alive I'll be amazed. Moose got shot earlier this morning. They took our Doc out the day before. We had to leave him. He probably has a better chance being their prisoner than being dragged along bleeding to death with us. Not that he's going to be treated right. We've all hold the stories about what the Bloodravens do. Don't worry Moose, we'll get you back. Just hold on."

Vargas's eyes had adapted well to the deprivation of light. He didn't have any super infra-red vision, but he saw more than the average sucker did. Probably why he was the one that told Taylor to get some sleep and took watch instead. He had a whistle, their only signal of diffence at night, really. If he blew on it, everyone would be ducking for cover, grabbing their guns, and preparing to defend themselves from the accursed Bloodraven tribe. Yet things were looking grime. The men were cold; times were to dangerous to be sloppy with fires. The men were tired and worst of all there was no will to fight in their hearts. They had lost to many good people and recently established camp to boot. At first it appeared to add fuel to the fire in the hearts of his men and they were ready to fight. Yet, within the Sunset Mountains there were no victories for the Blackhawks. They needed a hero.

"Vargas. Psst. Vargas."

Vargas turned to see a rotund body of someone leaning against a rock.

"Yeah. Who is it?"

"Do you think they're gonna do it to him, Vargas? To Moose."

Vargas's spirits dropped. He knew the owner of the voice. It was Boomer, Moose's younger brother.

"Boomer go to sleep," Vargas hissed.

"I can't sleep, man. They got no right doin that to a man."

Vargas nodded. The Bloodraven tribe took great pride in wearing men's testicles around their necks. Some tribes used skulls as a tribute to their glory, but the Bloodraven's oftentimes enslaved the ones they conquered, castrating the males and forcing them to do manual labor.

"Moose can handle himself, Boomer."

"We shoulda took him with us! You know we shoulda. Why didn't we?"

Vargas shrugged his shoulders and continued to peer off towards the mountain.

"Quiet, Boomer. We're being hunted."

Boomer crouched down onto the ground and started to crawl towards Vargas.

"Warriors? Where?"

"No, not them. Deathclaw."

The Brotherhood of Steel had accidentally brought the Deathclaws to the region. It was an accident really. There was muttering about something about a restored United States and then something about deathclaws from them. Apparently it was California's business. But nontheless, some Brotherhood convoy had wrecked and brought the first deathclaws into Colorado. Nobody knew until it was to late. Claws seemed to live in packs and now whatever the hell was raised in California had now found its home in Colorado.

"Just one?"

"Musta gotten lost. It probably smells the steer we killed."

Vargas lined the beast up in the sights of his hunting rifle. It was to far away to get an accurate shot and even if by some chance he made it, he'd alert every Bloodraven scout imaginable. Wasn't worth it.

Yet there was something odd about this Deathclaw. It wasn't approaching the direction of their camp. In fact, it wasn't going anywhere close to them. It was heading towards some darker crevice in the mountains. Perhaps the monster lives there, Vargas though. Then he saw the puff of smoke followed by the bang. Intruders. Good boy, he thought.

Vargas didn't have to whistle afterall. The gunfire had already woken most of the tribe. Guns were gathered and most of the people sat around in groggy confusion. Vargas made sure he was there to keep their yaps shut.

"We got company. Deathclaw found em for us. Me, Boomer, Shandler, and Hooch are gonna sneak our way down there, maybe get to flank them from behind. As for the rest of you, try to get in a bit closer towards the rocks where the shot came from. If you see a whole lot of them start shooting to draw their fire! Boomer, Hooch, Shandler, lets go."

The heavens opened up and rain started to poor down. Wind started to whip through the mountains bring with it the reminder that snow season would be soon on its way. The Blackhawks were looking for anyway to make it through the mountain pass alive before winter. Nobody made it through the winter wastes of Colorado. Nobody except maybe the Deathclaws. Another looming threat that survivalists had to face. Yet, gun shots now echoed across the mountains. The Deathclaw hadn't been alone as Vargas had thought. The poor Bloodraven tribe didn't stand a chance as the Claws were fighting them and the Blackhawks were fighting the Claws. One Bloodraven scout fell dead instantly as one massive claw tore into her throat, blood splashing across the dirt and rock.

The Deathclaw pack roared as they literally stomped and slashed the warriors to the ground. The hidden gun shots seemed to frighten them and they started to flee, carrying bodies of the dead with them. Vargas, Boomer, Shandler, and Hooch watched in terror as the last Deathclaw moved back up the pass. It appeared that there was a new owner of the mountains and it wasn't human. There was the sound of shouting off into the distance and more gunshots echoed across the stone walls.

"Bloodraven's busy with the Claws. Nows as good a chance as any to escape," Vargas whispered.

The men nodded and took a few rifles that were scattered about from the massacre. It had only taken a few seconds to loot the bodies and then they were back with the tribe and escaping. The Blackhawk tribe had other outposts scattered about and perhaps they would regain the base after snow season. Yet none of that was his concern now. Vargas longed to sit at a warm fire and share stories with his friends. Someone desperately needed to stop the war between the tribes. It was making everyone eerie. Except their enemies. Varkas shuttered. It was almost as if they lived for killing.

-Boulder-

Men in power armor were sitting alongside the bar counter and telling tales of their prowess and victory. Most of these men were square jawed, arrogant, and highly tempermental. Yet, as long as someone didn't butt into their affairs, things seemed alright. One of the bar's patrons felt the need to complain and whispered to the bartender.

"Gawd, Kenny. These folks think they own the place! Why doncha kick 'em out!"

Kenny's eyes bulged at the thought of one of those massive soldiers grabbing his throat and just crushing him like a tin can.

"Give it a rest, Andy, they seem like nice folks. And they're just taking a break. Thats what the leader told me."

"Leader? Didn't you let the guy sleep with your wife?"

"So? She is a prostitute you know. Keeps me in business and I ask her all the time. She don't mind."

"He didn't pay you anything, Kenny! When you gonna show some balls?"

Kenny sighed and started to wipe off a table.

"Its best not to get involved, Andy. Those guys are bad news for Boulder. They'll do their thing and then they'll leave. Sounds like a good plan to me."

Andy shrugged his shoulders and left with a look of disgust. All Kenny could do was sigh. People are so foolish, he thought. Why didn't they understand that the best way to survive was to avoid trouble at all costs.

He looked around the smokey tavern and felt saddened by it. It wasn't as lively as some of the bars he had seen. Instead it seemed to have a desperate feeling to it. Everyone needed something to spark some life into their lives in Boulder. They needed a hero.

"Hey Frank, maybe we should recruit that wimp bartender, whaddaya think?"

"Nah, Larry, but Sarge might want his wife to take back with him. Hahaha."

Kenny frowned. It wasn't his business. He'd get hurt, probably killed if he got involved. The only thing that could save him now was luck.

 

[welsh]

RE: Sunset Mountains

[font size=1" color="#FF0000]LAST EDITED ON Jan-02-03 AT 11:18PM (GMT)[p]OOC- I would like to introduce a character from prior role playing. Is that possible? The character, Grim, would be a traveler who's own business brings him to his part of town.

ICC-

The dirt around the burning cabin and grown muddy as the blood snow melted, distorting the tracks. The house was little more than smoldering ashes, most of the logs and assorted debries used to build the lodging had been blackened. Nearby a barn had withstood it's fire slightly better. It's stone foundation was still standing. The assorted livestock, mostly brahma, had been slaughtered, as had the family that lay out, frozen and thawing in the snow.

The Sheriff surveyed the scene. Raiders probably, he thought. Deliverance had not been immune to raider attacks. Like wolves they became more daring during the winter, food being scarce. They preyed on some of the more distant farms of the county, forcing most of the outliers to move closer to town. With each year the county grew, the Sheriff and his deputies had more to protect and serve, the job becoming that more difficult, the men stretched out that much further. He would need more deputies, and perhaps a standing militia if these raiders became more bold.

Three ranches in the past week, moving along the periphery of the county, East to West. Probably just raiders, but perhaps something more, something more dangerous.

Like most of the town's counsel, Sheriff Jason Walker knew the importance of Deliverance's secret, why the town had been growing steadily. Why the crops were consistently good, why livestock flourished, why the town was growing. It had been 5 years since Deliverance had gone to war with the neighboring township. The town had recovered and continued to prosper.

It was the land, precious land. Fertile like a maiden and twice as vulnerable to abuse. The land would make the town strong. And the land invited disaster should anyone know the secret. The world was full of radioative waste, contamination and sterility, where crops and people grew mutant and deformed, where the land was poison. In much of the world people either starved or fought to keep from starving, and in the process was dieing.

What would people give to live in such a place? What might an invading army due if they discovered Deliverance which promised a steady supply of the one thing that was so desperately scarce in the wasteland, food.

There was land to spare, and so the townsfolk had been unwilling to turn people away. And the good news was that the fertility of the land was spreading in all directions, as if the disease was slowly disappearing. But in the meantime, such a place would be too tempting for an invader, who would seize through violence and parcel off as he saw fit, as was politically expedient. But not before killing all the officials and deliverance, with its slender democracy, would be crushed.

The Sheriff turned to the other man. "What do ya think?"

"Raiders probably, come in from the east and passing through. But they might be just raiding here to grab and run, being chased." said the tall man.

The tall man wore a long cloak over his trenchcoat and leather armor. On his waist was holstered a large revolver and an automatic. His name was Grim and like the Sheriff, had been a badge of experience. Except Grim had traded in the badge and had gone to bounty hunting.

"Being chased by what?" Asked the Sheriff.

"Don't know that and its only speculation. They might be scouts too and just running through here. Hard to say. But if I was you, I would bring in them folks from the outlying farms and alert the militia. Better be safe than sorry."

"Town counsel ain't going to like it." Said one of the deputies.

"Town counsel rather hide their heads in the sand, but they know what's what." Said the sheriff. rebuking the deputy.

"Regardless," said Grim, "This is particular. First I figure that we are talking somewhere between a dozen and a score. That's a big group for scout. Second they're heading West, towards the mountains." Grim was crouched over the tracks, and had run his hand over them.

"Who the hell would run to the mountains this late in winter." Asked the deputy. The winter snows were deep and treacherous. Trade in that direction was non-existent. For years, Deliverance had been on the edge on what came close to civilization.

"That's what's particular. Raiders would be heading down from the mountains, not up. And thats' not all. check at these prints."

Both the Sheriff and the Deputy looked over to what Grim was pointing too. "See, they are small, and judging by the print I would say say they might be about three days old, but these folks are light. I am betting that most of them were women, or at least a large number."

"So it could be raiders traveling with women."

"But no children? Look at these prints. Not a kid among them. No this is a war party." Said Grim. He had seen the tracks near the corpses and had a fair idea it was women who had mutilated the corpses.

"Tribals?" asked the Sheriff.

"Could be. God knows what they got going to the mountains or why. Maybe some kind of big pow-wow, fuck. I don't know. I do know that not only the tribals are friendly."

"But if they don't have children than they are scouting or warring." Said the deputy. It wasn't unknown for war parties to be composed of both sexes, but generally most warriors remained men.

"Maybe both." Said the Sheriff.

"I want to show you something I saw here by the trees." Grim walked away, leaving the Sheriff and deputy to follow.

" I figure that they hit at night, used the moon. Got up close to the cabin and then burnt it. But they waited up here by the trees."

When they got to the trees, Grim pointed to the bark which was stained with blue and red dyes.

The Sheriff touched the dye. It was still wet. "What do you think, Clown faces? I thought we seen the last of them a couple of years back."

The Clownface Gang had raided Deliverance a few times some four years previously, and Grim had spent a year on their trail, until he had killed all those who had attacked Deliverance.

"I told you then that there were more of 'em." Grim reminded him. "We had just seen but a few. The rest were further South. But these tracks are moving East to West, and the ranches that got sacked don't look like the work of Clownfaces. Still, it's a possibility."

"Damn." muttered Walker.

The Deputy looked at the dye. "Could be warpaint."

"Yep, could be." Grim nodded.

Many of the tribals had adopted the use of warpaint before an attack. One put on a different face when one committed murder, thus keeping ghosts at bay and unsure.

"Either case we're going to have to put a stop to it. Track 'em down and get pay back." The Sheriff said.

Grim thought about this. He had done quite a bit of traveling for Deliverance these past years. But the mountains were not one of the areas that he was familiar with.

He knew why Sheriff Walker had dragged him to the cabin. Walker wasn't a great badge, but he wasn't crooked and in these times that meant something. However Walker wouldn't travel much more than a days hike out of the Deliverance County limits, nor would he have enough deputies to send up a posse.

"There's more. Look at the people, same as before. All butchered, but they ain't cannibals. All the organs are there. Except..."

"The genitals on the men and the boys are all gone." Said the deputy.

"Yep. And I recall that Lohman's had two boys and three girls. But I don't see the girls, do you?" Grim asked.

The Sheriff nodded. "Just like the others."

Grim nodded. Maybe they were slavers looking for girls only. Or maybe they were tribals looking for women. But then why kill the boy children?

The Sheriff thought it over. "Children theiving. The counsel isn't going to like this. Furthermore something will have to be done by way of punishment. We can't have outsiders hitting our folk without impunity."

"You going to send a posse or the militia." Asked Grim, already knowing the answer.

"Deputies are too few to spare and we need 'em for defense. It will be at least a week earliest for the militia to form up, and then they won't want to leave the county till spring. Then there's spring plantin'..."

"then it's 800 caps a head and I recruit who I please." Said Grim, looking west.

"Now Grim, normally the bounty is 400." The Sheriff protested.

"Then you can find another head hunter. You got me going against a dozen, maybe a score. Many of 'em's women and I don't like killing women. That's the price. 800 a head. Take it or leave it."

"I'll have to take it up with the Counsel."

"Do it then. But tomorrow evening latest. As soon as I get the word, I leave. But don't wait too long. And if it rains, forget it. I won't be able to follow these tracks. They got three days start and are probably moving fast. If you are quick I hope we can have them kids back within a week or two. You know where to find me."

OOC-
This is an open for anyone who wants to join the man hunt. I figure these are Bloodravens on a recruitment mission of their own, stealing girls to raise as warriors. Or they could be working with the BOS.

Anyone interested in joining up with Grim is welcome. I figure this will eventually lead to Where the Blackhawks and Bloodravens are having their war.

 

[Locke Taelos]

Set In Motion

Ooc: Sorry for my rather long delay with following up on this. I've been very busy and elected to sleep actually. You'll find that I kept with the original summary though. Which is good.

Anyways, as I suggest before new players are welcome to join in and fill in any loose ends that are available. I'd appreciate if any characters controlled by me weren't roleplayed by others though, unless I give them permission. That's just a last minute thing I thought of the other day. If you'd like me to have someone do something for you just ask.

IC:

A few pebbles collasped under Boomer's feet as he started to slide down the edge of the mountain. The sky was crimson and his calloused fingers were numb from the bitter chill tossing about in between the nooks and crannies of the mountains. Shandler was stooping behind a bush taking a grunt and Taylor and a few others were laughing at a joke that Vargas had told them. Spirits were high for the Blackhawk tribe during dusk. They had finally left Sunset Mountain.

Vargas stretched his arms up towards the sky and cracked his neck. Dust from the desert was scattered by the winds and he covered his face with his bandana. Things were looking better over in Colorado. The snows were always bad, but now they had the rains again. The many diseases released during the war were finally starting to balance out. He guessed that the odds of survival were gradually increasing everyday. Yet nothing was perfect. He placed his pack down onto the sand and started searching for his geiger counter. A machine made by the gods of civilization, he considered. With pockets of radiation and its counter part, UV rays thanks to the depletion of the Ozone layer, Vargas knew just as well as any surviver that a Geiger Counter proved the old addage correct. Better to be safe than sorry.

"Hey Vargas, we got some unusual footprints here," yelled Stetson.

Unusual footprints could have belonged to anything from a deer to a midget to Vargas. Yet most of the folks in his group weren't trackers and all they cared about was their war with the Amazon-like Bloodravens. These were a simple people, unlike Vargas who many times wondered why he had decided to even lead them. I have something in common with Moses, he thought. Both were to lead people to the land of milk and honey and both had to deal with morons. He reminded himself that Stetson was just trying to be helpful. Stetson wouldn't have made the comment had he not recognized them.

"Lets have a look, Stets."

They were different. Usually a person walked one foot at a time. You'd see a footstep and then a few inches apart another one above it. These had two footsteps together with one apart. It was as if someone that walked the desert had three feet.

"Mutant," Bones said. "I shot me a mutant once. It ran away and we never found the body."

Vargas looked away from the tracks. There wasn't such a thing as a friendly mutant. Sometimes they'd sneak into villages and steal children. Sometimes they'd go in pack and raid merchants. Sometimes they'd try to enter into cities and find a job. Mutants were unpredictable and ranged from zombies to monstrocities. Sometimes they were hybrids of something else. This mutant had a third leg, but there were other prints, more faded. This one was...more recent.

"You think we should go another way, Vargas?"

"Yeah, Boomer, we're gonna go another way," Vargas replied. The others all nodded in unison. Some never seen a mutant before, but nobody was dumb enough to go after something new. With mutated animals, insects, mutants, raiders, and even robots wandering the vast desert void nobody wanted to go exploring.

Except the rangers, Vargas thought. Then he spat on the ground and moved his group on.

-Boulder

The Brotherhood of Steel sat up as their commanding officer, clad in Power Armor, advanced down the stairs and into the main part of the bar. His helmet was cradled in one hand, a deinty hand held in his other. He gave Kenny's wife a wink and started barking orders to his men.

"Now, where's the spineless dooshbag that let me have re-LATIONS with his wife? Oh, there he is. Kenny, aint it? Well thanks to you Kenny I now have a wife of my own. She's good in bed, and far to good for a MOR-ON like you. To bad so sad, right boys? Now we're moving out. I heard that the next city we need to "liberate" is--"

"High River, sir."

The sergeant narrowed his eyes and stared at a little man sittin in a corner. "What was that, brahmin dirt?"

"High River, sir. Its a camp fortified with raiders. Just thought you wanted to know."

Bradley laughed. "Oh well isn't that just cute. You think that WE are going to help you pathetic slops of puke with your bandit trouble?"

"You said liberate, didn't you. Well liberate us then. I'm sure people would gladly follow a savior."

Bradley lowered his head. "Lieutenant Drexler...is this man telling me what to do?"

Wayne Drexler nodded. "Sounds like it, Sarge."

"Thats what I thought. You insepid, infected pile of pus, who gives you the right to tell ME what to do?" The man started to shake with fury.

"I...listen, I just thought."

"No! You don't think! You aren't capable of thinking. Just look at you and your street rat clothes! Just look at you and all your scars from the nasty viruses let loose during war. Look at you begging someone stronger to take care of your problems. You're nothing, scumbag. You're just the pathetic dross of a dead civilization. You aren't allowed to have hope. You aren't allowed to have dreams. Thats left for the strong. And that belongs to us."

Larry looked at Bradley and shook his head. Did that speech ever mean anything? Obviously they were better than the peons in Colorado, but its not as if telling them meant anything. Bradley was foolish, but he was their leader. With a sigh, Larry stood up along with the rest of the troops.

Kenny looked at his wife. She refused to look at him, given up on her pansy husband it seemed. He felt slightly better though. At least she wasn't being taken against her will. She made up her mind to join them which was better. She had a better chance of survival. She had a better chance of happiness.

"Well, beers on me, fellas."

The sergeant grunted. "Listen to this guy. You take his wife and he gives you free drinks," He points to Andy and grins, "Listen you wanna chance to bark orders at me? Join the Brotherhood and climb the ranks. I doubt you have enough balls to ever confront me, but hell, I'll give ya a shot sometime. What do you say?"

Andy laughed. "I'll pass. I may not be worth spit compared to you, but I'm not insane. All I have to say is that if you wanna civilize Colorado you get rid of the Raiders. It'll save you time later on. A good place to start is over at High River."

Bradley stroked a few fingers over his black goatee and shook his head. "Moron. Alright, men, move it. This city's worthless."

Kenny watched as all of the Brotherhood soldiers stalked out of the bar. Not all of them had the immense armor that their leader had. But the 7 soldiers all seemed incredibly tough and prepared for battle. Going up against them was suicide, preferring pacifism wasn't cowardice. He looked once more at his wife and felt tears start to sting his eyes. She was gone. Didn't even look back. What the hell was going on.

"I told ya, Kenny. You gotta grow some balls," Andy said. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure she'll get what she deserves. She's with that psycho now. Its best they're outta town like she said. Think they'll head on towards High River?"

Kenny shrugged. "Wherever the hell it is they're going, I hope they don't make it."

Andy patted the bartender on the back. "Me too, Kenny. Me too."

- Hope, Colorado

A camoflage Hummer ripped through the desert with half a dozen motorcycle escorts. The drivers were clad in black leather, thigh high boots, some with red scarves. Scarlot red lips and warpaint streaked across their face. Dried testicles hung from dungy chains around their neck. This was the mark of the Bloodravens, Amazons of the wasteland.

Their destination was Hope, Colorado. It was a small base that they had established before ascending atop the Sunset Mountains. Yet there was someone special riding inside the Hummer today. The woman's name was Rayna Two-barrels and she was the commander-in-chief of the Bloodraven tribe. The woman's fiery red hair tossed about in the Hummer, yet her eyes stayed fixed to the road. She had insisted that she pilot the Hummer and everyone else just watched. In the back were a few other trusted soldiers whom she would place in charge of the Sunset Mountains. Yet nobody had heard from them in quite some time. The thought that the Blackhawks had somehow taken charge of the situation infuriated her to no avail. The fact that the winter season was approaching had made things worse. Whoever went up there to the Sunset Mountains wouldn't be going back down for sometime. She was considering it.

Most of the Bloodravens were female, but a few male soldiers were present. They needed more slaves though, as their territory was increasing. She wondered if the troops upon the Sunset Mountains had succeeded in getting them at least that. She wondered if the troops were alive at all. She had many good women over there. It would be a pity.

"What are you thinking?"

Rayne looked over her shoulder and smiled at Lucy. Lucy was Rayne's confidant. She might have even gone so far as to call Lucy her best friend.

"Whether or not we should forget about the mountains."

Lucy's eyes grew. "It can't be that bad."

"Its been weeks since we heard from them. A week with the fighting yes, but with the winter season coming, we won't be able to find anything out until its to late. We don't know if they need supplies. We don't know if they're dead. We know nothing."

Lucy leaned back into her seat and set her hands upon her lap, staring at the ground in silence. Rayne felt the urge to hold her. She might have went on to say that her and Lucy were lovers. Sometimes that was all you had. You didn't need a man for love. History proved that. Love was just an idea anyways. Did it take one's opposite sex to really make that idea come alive?

Rayna continued to glue her eyes to the road and forget her feelings. She was a cold person and needed to remain cold. Her tribe needed that.





"I don't know what World War 3 will be fought with, but World War 4 will be fought with sticks and stones." - Albert Einstein.

 

[welsh]

RE: Set In Motion

OOC- Ok the tenor of this story is moving us away from Fallout 1 or even Fallout 2 towards more of a Fallout BOS line. Vehicles will need some explaining. Are we going to avoid Talking Deathclaws?

IC-
Once the sheriff had informed the major, it took less than 6 hours to call the counsel together and make a preliminary decisions, accepting Grim's terms while sending out the call for the local militia. The Sheriff was busy swearing in new deputies, mostly just temporary hires during the lull between harvast and planting, and making temporary plans for the defense of Deliverance. Deliverance survived by being out-of-the-way and by maintaining a low profile. Once the counsel had made its decision the militia would be called together to serve as mobile force to respond to any crisis. But Grim new that when the snows melted and the ground because soft, the militia members would return to their farms, and once again the town would rely on a week conglomerate of a few deputies, rangers and the ocassional badge. Deliverance was always vulnerable because of its weakness, but it was always secure internally, as the inhabitants were more interested in their farms than politics, and the counsel, divided and argumentative, was in the end more peaceful than any benevolent tyrant.

Grim left the town of Deliverance as soon as his bounty was paid, with only one other companion. Skip McGee was the only son to have survived the Cooper farmstead, and that only because he had been in town buying linen and nails for his folks. McGee was no ranger nor much with a firearm, but he knew the woods well enough, and Grim couldn't rightly deny him his revenge. After all, the raiders and taken his sister and if Grim hadn't taken him offer, the boy would have gone off alone.

The snow had not wholly melted and had frozen over, keep the prints preserved and easy to follow. But on foot, Grim couldn't tell if they were gaining or losing ground, thus encouraging him to press forward, constantly west, towards the far mountains.

It was on the third day that they found the other tracks.

"Ain't ever seen a critter like that." The boy patted the ground. Long even tracks that dug deep under the snow. Parralel, even when they curved, symmetrical to a fault. The tracks followed a stretch of what Grim knew to be an ancient road.

"Ain't no critter but I reckon a vehicle." Grim looked far in either direction. From what he knew, vehicles made a lot of noise.

"You mean like in the old days." The boy asked, astonished.

"Yep. But damn if I know what some tribals are doing with vehicles."

"I thought all the gas had run out. My folks used to say that, according to legend, that's why the wars were fought, why the world ain't fruitful." The boy asked, thinking about the nights he had spent long ago with his family.

"That's the legends, sure. The gas all run out and the people all fought for what's left, and in the end destroyed themselves. Gas was like the blood these vehicles needed to live, and it come from the ground. But weren't enough of it. Don't see much in the way of vehicles no more. Haven't seen one in a long time."

"So they still exist?" The boy asked.

Grim looked at the tracks. "Apparently."

"But if the fuel all run out.." The boy pondered.

"Maybe someone found a stockpile somewhere and is hoarding it. Might be they found an alternative. I knew one fellow used power cells to fuel an old Highwayman. SOme of the old moonshiners say they can concoct a fuel of alcohol that works just as well. Haven't seen that yet so don't know if that's possible."

"So what do we do now?"

There were more prints on the other side of the road. Apparently the group they had followed and come across this vehicle earlier and they had gone in different directions. Grim followed the prints towards an old abandoned building. Inside, in the fireplace, were the burnt remains of a fire. Around it were other debries, wrappers and chips of wood.

"Looks like they all camped here in the night. Then the vehicle went off in one direction, here" Grim pointing to other tracks, "Seems like the others went off on foot. I don't fancy chasing no vehicle so we follow the people. But keep your ears open for the sounds of an engine. You know the steamer that Sam Macey uses in his shop?" the boy nodded, "Like that."

With that Grim moved out of the house and up towards the forest.

Two days later-
They could see the destination from the smoke rising to the hills. Grim had pushed the pace hard, knowing the direction the raiders had taken and what was in their path. Quickening their trot they approached the campsight and then slowed down as they came within view. A quick scan through the farglasses indicated indicated that the camp sight was nothing more than dead bodies and burned remains.

The boy brought his deer rifle to the shoulder and peer down the scope. McGee looked over the dead from a distance. "I don't see 'em if they there."

"Watch the forest edge. They might be waiting for us." Grim was also watching the forest edge. Five days of tracking, the tracks too obvious. Maybe the raiders were planning to double back to bushwhack any pursuers.

Seeing nothing he told the boy. "Alright keep me covered and watch your back. I am going to check it out."

The camp site was a prospector's. Sam Fisher and company had been working the camp site for three years, occassionally pulling nuggets of gold, but keeping the site secret. Grim had found it only because he had been offerred a bounty to bring in one of Sam's men, but had sworn to keep the site secret.

There was little Grim could do. The camp had been sacked, he looked over the bodies, 8 in all, most had died in their tents. Each had been stripped, each had been mutilated, same as before. Others were burnt beyond recognition. What stores the prospectors had were gone including whatever gold the prospectors had found. After waving the McGee boy in, Grim set to work at picking through the remains, looking for anything useable as well as any information.

There was little in the way of cartridge casings, which meant little gunfire. That most of the men had died in their tents was also odd, as if they had died in their sleep.

A glimpse to the sky indicated that the sun would soon set, and Grim didn't want to remain at the site. The smoke and the smell of burnt flesh would attract any of a variety of critters, and the area was known for giant wolves, mutant bears and even Deathclaw. They had scarsely left the camp when there was a stirring in the treeline.

Both the boy and the bounty hunter went prone. The boy took aim but Grim put his hand on the barrel. "Not yet, let'm show themselves first."

The figure that emerged out of the camp was a clossal shape, in long shaggy fur, but behind him came another bearing a stretcher.

"Friends!" They called out. Grim nodded to the boy.

"Come on in then." Called back Grim.

The man in the bearskin was Sam Fisher himself. A large 6 and a half footer, Sam was known for wearing the skin of a giant mutant bear he had slain with his own knife. The smaller figure was a woman, a tribal it seemed, and in the stretcher a boy.

As Fisher approached he smiled and the two men embraced. "Sorry I couldn't be here earlier."

"Nor I, was out hunting off the other side when I heard a rifle shot. Only one. Got here quick and saw 'em head off. Then went looking for survivors. Found her," indicating the woman, "tending to the boy who got away."

Grim looked at the boy. The boy's face showed the signs of prolonged exposure to the cold. He was unconscious.

"And she?"

"Picked 'er up last year in the Spring from a tribe come west. Been on the run, it seemed. Pretty good cook, good hunter. Liked the boys well enough."

Grim nodded. "What do you figure happenned?"

"Well, if there were paws I'd say some deathclaw came in the middle of the night and killed 'em all in their sleep."

OOC- will continue later.

 

[welsh]

RE: Set In Motion

"'xcept the footprints aren't Deathclaw but women." said Grim.

"Yep, there is that. And ain't no paw prints of any other critter about at all." Fisher pointed to the girl, "The woman, name's Twelve Toes, on account she got twelve and not ten, told me that it was a group of women. That she didn't like em none. Made unseemly advances on her and were kind of rough so she run off to find me before it all came up."

The woman was looking among the rubbish, picking up scraps.
Sam pointed at the boy. "Found the boy later. Before he faded out he told me that my boys had figured that these girls were looking for a good time. Then in the middle of the night one of the men cried out, then more of 'em. He was with a youngster and when he heard the cry, apparently the girl had a knife under the blanket and was about to cut his manhood off. Well, she was as surprised by the cry and before she could finish her business he had smacked her in the head and got out of the tent. Apparently the women had bedded down the men and sliced their's peckers off in the sleep. The men were screaming and yelling, but all wounded and the women, well, they just finished them all off. Figuring out he was outnumbered the boy just scat to the woods, naked as the day he was born. He's a fast one, and the women gave chase but he got away, found the woman here. But the cold done awful job to 'em, and his feet are all cut up."

The boy was covered in various animal pelts but Grim could see that the boy was bare underneath. "Got any medicine?"

"Nothing them women raider's left us." Fisher said.

"Then I reckon you best find him some medical help soon or you goin' lose another one." Grim said. "There's a commune about a day north of here, you know it."

"Bunch of monks called the Order of Joseph? Yeah, I know 'em. What about you?"

"You know my business. A bounty for a head. I'm heading west."

"Figure you could use some help? Just the two of you? Ain't much. "

"Never is, but I figure if you can follow up, we could use your rifle and you knowledge of these parts."

"I'll be with you soon as I take care of this here boy. They heading to Colorado area, and that's mostly wild country. I should be able to see you in a couple of days, best."

"Till then"

"Yep"

With that Grim and the McGee headed west to use what sunlight they could to follow their prey. Fisher watched as they disappeared into the trees. Then he called to Twelve Toes and together they lifted the stretcher and carried the boy, going North.

 

[welsh]

On the chase

Two days later-

The wind bites sharply the skin as the two hunters quietly move across a frozen hillside. The moon provides illumination enough so that the older of the two can follow the footprints. A few paces behind him the boy, his face wrapped in a woolen scarf, gazes about but says nothing. The only sounds are that of their feet packing the snow beneath each tiresome step, and the wind that cuts through the trees.

The older man has set the pace since the hunt has begun, constantly west, towards what they know to be the mountains. They sleep barely 4 hours a night, rest infrequently. The pace is hard, but necessary. Their prey is illusive and quick. But they are closing, and the prey grows tired.

As they near the peak of a hill, the older man slows down. crouches and removes his "binocs" and peers ahead. The boy stops and squats besides, removes his deer rifle, and looks down the long site. In the distance the boy can see a house and in the window is a light. The house sits in the middle of a broad meadow. Behind the house is a large barn and two sheds. The full moon reflects off the snow, providing illumination.

"It's them?" The boy whispers, careful for fearing his whisper would echo off the flat snowy landscape.

"Maybe." responds the man.

"They're probably sleeping warm near the fire, don't ya think?" The boy, McGee, asks.

"Maybe. But maybe it's a trap and they know we're a comin." Says Grim. The boy peers at the house, and then around the meadow. But he can't see much past the tree line.

"Probably too cold for 'em to be waitin' on us. We should take 'em now, while they're dozin. My sister might be with 'em"
The boy has been growing impatient.

"I know you're wanting to get your sister back. Hell I am anxious to end this thing and get off this frozen rock, but let's not forget that there are a lot of them and few of us."

"We got the element of surprise." Says the boy.

"If we can get over that field without being spotted, and if they are all asleep. I'm not saying you're wrong, only that it's a lot to gamble."

The boy says nothing to that. Grim turns his attention down the slope to a place where the forest seems cut. Then he follows the line down.

"There's a road down there. Hard to pick out in the dark but you can see the shadows on tracks." The boy tries to find the tracks with the rifle but can't spot them.

"You stay here and keep an eye on the front door. But no shootin. I am going to follow this line up a ways, come around back, check out the barn and shed and then move on the house. It will take some time so be patient. If you here shootin, watch for anything that comes out the front."

"Let me come with, it's my sister." the boy protests.

"You will mind what I say." Grim says, sternly. "And don't be aimin it either, should the glass on that scope reflect."

The boy nods, moves closer to the man, spreads out a blanket on the snow and then readies his rifle. Quietly his attention returning the house, he digs a hole in the snow. His body, now accustomed to the cold, tries to sink deeper in hope of using the hole as shelter from the wind.

Grim moves along the hillside, below the line of sight from the house, until he enters the woods and disappears. Quietly he moves about the trees, a few meters from the edge. Deep enough to be hidden from the house but close enough that he can observe. His movements are careful. In the frozen night, twigs crack when broken and the sound is amplified on the snow. He finally reaches a point where the trees come closest to the buildings. He waits, looking for movement, waiting for sound. From the top of the house comes smoke, visible now, but from the barn and the sheds, nothing. A closer look through the binocs, reveals nothing.

From his pack he removes an automatic pistol which he has improvised, then a metal stock which he attaches to the pistol. A longer barrel is attached with a handle, and then a site. Finally he screws on a noise and flash suppressor. The pistol has been transformed into a silenced rifle. He checks the ammo clip to make sure that it is filled with 5.56 hollowpoints. To the best of his ability he checks to see that all is in working order, and that the frost has not impaired the weapon. When satisfied he checks his revolver, rolling the chamber and listening to the clicking. With his is also a shotgun and a rifle, but the work will be close.

He aims the makeshift rifle at the house, peers through the scope. Again nothing. Stealth or Speed, he thinks. To much distance and no cover. Better speed. Once more he checks to see if there is any observation. Nothing.

He darts from the trees and races the 50 or so meters to the nearest structure, when he is there, he stops, breathes in the cold air, steadies himself, peers around. Nothing. He moves around till he hears the door.

 

[Locke Taelos]

ooc: technical difficulties

My monitor shows everything in pink and refuses to show anything that's green. Due to the fact that everything is green, I cannot see a single gosh darned fuddy duddy thing that is on this board. Its broken and at the moment I have to wait till this coming Thursday to be able to afford another one.

Therefore, I might type some stuff on notepad, but I won't post anything probably till Friday. I'm sorry for the inconvienience, but my monitor decided to break. =/ And now I swear I see pink bunnies skipping about.

MAKE THEM STOP! =/



"I don't know what World War 3 will be fought with, but World War 4 will be fought with sticks and stones." - Albert Einstein.

 

[welsh]

RE: ooc: technical difficulties

IC- No problem. That happens.

OOC-

The creaking of the door echoes loudly on the snow. Grim, stops, readies his pistol and waits. He hears the sound of a figure step out, the sound of feet on snow, "Damn it's freaking Cold!" a woman's voice. It walks away towards a small structure, probably an out-house. Grim freezes, waits, but the woman does not notice. When the door the out-house closes, Grim quickly moves around the structure, till he finds a door, and steps into the darkness of the building, shutting the barn door behind him.

The room is full of shadows, but there is an open window above, in what appears to be a second level. He sees what looks like vehicles, but waits until he hears the door of the outhouse open again, the woman run out, and then back into the house.

He waits a few moments, and then removes a small beeswax candle and lights it with a match.

The room has a faint glow and Grim can make out a derelict rusted tractor to one side, but also two wheeled vehicles that seem in fairly good condition. He appraoches the first and touches it. Cold. Moving around he notices a coat of arms on the door, painted on. Inside he sees blankets and a map. Putting the candle down, he folds the map and puts it in an inside pocket. Then we walks around to the back. One of the vehicles has four wheels but the other seems to 8 and has a lot of cargo space. Inside that space are boxes. Grim gets into the truck and, using a crowbar he finds, pries open one of the boxes. Medical supplies. Stimpacks, Super stimpacks, rad X, and radaway. Searching further he find a large suit with a helmet and air tanks marked Oxygen.

Out of the truck, back to the door and then he blows out the candle. Grim peers out. No movement. He moves towards the house, believing the other structures to be either a storage shed and an out-house. From inside the house he can see faint light from the back door. Quietly he opens the door and enters what appears to be a kitchen. Carefully he steps across the floor, worried that a misplaced creak on the floor might give him away. He readies his silenced gun, and has the old revolver.

He is almost to the kitchen door, when the door opens and a naked man steps in. His eyes are hazy, his body covered with tribal markings. He opens his mouth to ask "who" but Grim quickly shoots him with the silenced pistol, then steps forward to catch the body before it falls.

From the next room, "Larry, you fucking Drunk piece of SHIT, don't break the Fucking Bootle." A woman's drunken voice.

Grim holds the body and drags it outside, leaving it outside agaomst the wall.

He cracks the door open. The room is illuminated a crackly blaze in the fireplace. A woman, naked, is sitting on a fur, looking at the fire. Nearby there is a bed, where a couple are lieing next to each other.

But the building is two stories. There might be more upstairs,l and there probably is a cellar. Quietly he steps into the room, keeping his back to the wall, his pistol trained on the occupants of the room.

He crouches down and moves, quietly to a door, listens, hears nothing. Moves further. He can hear the a voice asking questions, and moans. He cracks the door open and peers down the stairs, but sees nothing.

"Where they hell is that son-of-a-bitch," a woman from the bed, voice drunken.

"Probably taking a Piss. I guess I'll check" says the girl who turns around. When she sees Grim she says, "Fuck!" and reaches for a gun nearby, but is too slow. Grim shoots her. The two figures react at about the same time. One reaches for a rifle next to the bed, the other jumps out of the bed and runs for the front door. The rifle never gets fired, as Grim shoot the woman. The front door open and the last girl runs out into the snow. There is a loud crack of a rifle, and the girl falls.

Grim hears someone running up the stairs just as he hears the sound of feet above. Favoring the revolver now, Grim nears the cellar door. When the door swings open and the woman behind steps up, Grim slams the door back, knocking the occupant back and down the stairs. At that moment another man, naked, and carrying an assault rifle opens a door. Grim fires the revolver twice, knocking him back. He falls backwards onto the woman who follows, who stumbles and falls backward onto the stairs. Grim fires a single shot into the woman's head.

No more sounds on the steps, Grim opens the stairs and looks. Beneath is a woman who has fallen down the stairs and seems unconscious. McGee comes through the front door, rifle ready. Grim points to his own eyes and then to the stairs, telling the boy to watch the stairs. Then Grim reloads the spent cartridges and then goes down the stairs into the cellar, crouching and expecting more.

Below he sees the dead bodies of a man and a woman on a table and another couple manackled to a wall. The man's body is cut and scared, but the woman seems alright.

On the unconscious woman Grim sees the same tribal markings as before. He disarms her. At the top of the stairs, Mcgee has taken a position where he can observe both directions.

"Search the rest of the house." He tells the boy. "But be careful."

Looking for something to wake her up, He finds a bucket of cold water with a ladle and splashes the woman on the floor.

She wakes up, confused.

"Who are you and what tribe."

"I am called Sliver of the Bloodravens. Who are you?"

Ignoring the question, Grim asks, "Where are the others."

"Gone, but they'll be back."

Grim points his pistol at her feet. "Speak."

"They left."

He fires and shoots off Sliver's big toe. SHe screams in pain.

He points his pistol at the other foot. "Look, I don't have time and I need to ask you questions."

"They left, Fuck me, they left this morning. Two groups."

"Where?"

"One group is taking the captives back. the other is following the road."

"Why are they following the road?"

She looks at the two chained to the wall. "Them, we wanted to find out who they are."

"Well?"

"Shit give me a freaking bandage will you. Or a shot."

McGee comes back to the door. "It's empty." and then comes down the stairs. WHen he sees the Blood Raven, he kicks her and yells. "Where is my sister!"

Grim pushes him away. "Ease up."

"She ain't your sister, boy. She's one of us. Gone to the meeting place."

"What will you do with her?"

"Girls got to be initiated and then taught our ways. It's how it is."

McGee is furious and it is only Grim, who steps between he and the Sliver woman, that stops McGee from becoming violent. "Stop boy. Find some rope to tie this one up with." The boy looks at her and then reluctantly begins searching for a rope. WHile he does so, Grim finds a medical kit.

"What are you doing here?" Grim asks. Preparing a stimpack and bandages.

"We saw smoke coming from the chimney and it was cold, so figured it would be good shelter. When we got here, we found them" she nodds towards the four. "They were heavily armed but weren't expecting trouble."

"There's a lot of that going around." Grim says.

"Yea well. We got the jump on 'em. Two of em got killed, but the others we keep. The woman, well, she'd make a good warrior, but the man's all warn out." He wraps up the wounded foot to stop the bleeding and applies the stim pack.

"What did you do."

"What always gets done. We had knives too."

"So what did they say?"

"How about some medicine."

Grim shoots the other foot.

"FUCK FUCK FUCK you son-of-abitch. Jee ZUsss!" Sliver calls out.
Grim slaps her.

"Now what was that question?"

"They part of some new gang. Fucking Hurts! Call themselves Brotherhood of Steel. They comin' West from some place called Chicago."

"Why are they here?" Grim begins to bandage the other foot. "Look at matching pair."

"You are a fucking comedian. Ai, fucking hurts. I won't be able to walk again. I don't fucking know. Only that these here are supposed to bring supplies to a camp west of here. Some military base. But I don't think they know why. It's some kind of secret. That's why Bonnie had us split up. We were supposed to learn all we could and follow. Bonnie sent most of the warriors with the captives West. She and a group went North to follow the road."

"Did you say anything about where you came from?"

"No, I didn't. But maybe one of the others did."

Satisfied, Grim injects a scringe into Slivers foot, and the narcotic puts her, almost instantly, to sleep. Then he ties her up and ties her to the wall. Then he caters to the captives, releasing them. The man falls to the floor and whimpers incoherently. The woman falls to her knees, and crawls to a corner where she watches as Grim tries to tend to the man's wounds.

 

[welsh]

RE: ooc: technical difficulties

The man, unchanged, lies in a fetal position, whimpering. His body is cut in many places and blood has mixed with sweat.

Grim tries to clean the wounds and inspect but the man won't move, but only whimpers. The woman, resting on the flat of her feet, hunched over, watches him, fearfully.

"What are you doing here." She whispers.

"I am here to help you." Grim responds.

"They...." she begins to speak but loses the word.

"They are no more a threat to you. What happened to you?"

She watches the man and does not meet Grim's stare. "We were carrying supplies. North... medical supplies."

"There is a Brotherhood of Steel outfit to the North." Grim says.

"Yes, a patrol.... in the mountains a base.... something the scribes thought was important... Rumors are it has something to do with mutants. Don't know. But radiation... God awful radiation and other things... The patrol dead of radiation."

"You were bringing radiation supplies."

"Yes, follow-up went to investigate but they are running out of supplies. But the snow... they got cut off, we got stuck."

"The road is blocked ahead."

"yes, the snow, we can't get through it. We passed this building and it looked safe so we came back. Perhaps we could radio in help, report our situation. There are engineers that could break through. But one Humvee went off a bridge. Lost two men. The other got stuck in the snow and we had to pull it out with the truck."

"So you returned" Grim says, leading the woman. He begins to clean the wound.

 

[welsh]

RE: ooc: technical difficulties

"Yes, returned here. We thought we could hold until help arrived. But the radio... damn radio in the truck wasn't working. Geever said it was all the damn rock and the damn snow. I don't know tech stuff. Anyway, he was platoon leader and brought us back here." the woman said.

"Where the raiders here when you came?" Grim asked.

"No... no not the first time. We had passed it. Looked ok. But maybe we missed it. Don't know. We came back. Put the vehicles in the barn. Figured we'd lock up till snow had passed. Damn snow can come for days.... hunker down. Wait it out."

Grim nods and says. "Yeah." He looks over at McGee who is trying to clean up the man, who found a blanket and put it over his form. He gives Grim another blanket before trying to sooth the defeated man. McGee's voice is kind and warm, caring. When McGee looks up, Grim can see the kindness in the boys eyes. A hard road for a sensitive boy. "See if you can brew up something warm to drink. A tea or somethin'. Check their gear."

The boy looks at the woman and then back at Grim, and Grim can see the questions. But Grim's eyes are hard and unanswering. The boy leaves.

Grim puts the blanket around the woman, and continues to try to clear away the blood and dirt from her skin.

"So what happened?"

The woman looks at the unconscious body of the blood raven. "She like this. She likes to cause pain."

"Yea. I wouldn't worry much about her anymore."

"We were only four. Two others had died out in the snows. Off the bridge but I think it was the cold that kill'd 'em." She says, far off now. "We had only one guard. The rest of us was sleepin' when it started. Worg, fuck'n worthless idiot. He finds this girl come in. Tells Geefer, they figure on having some fun with her. Diversion. The others get close from the other side. Geefer and Worg with the girl when they come in. Slit their throats. Bodies buried out in the snow I think. Me and him. Well she wants us to talk."

"Did you?"

She doesn't answer and that's enough.

"Didn't stop her anyway."

She stops speaking and closes her eyes. But Grim knows she's awake by her breathing and the way she moves. McGee returns with a hot cup of tea and hands it to Grim who slowly bring it to her mouth. Her hands are weak but she takes the tea. McGee's face is full of questions.

Grim nods and together they go to the top floor. A glimpse out the door adn the windows shows that snow is falling heavy outside. They shut the door and close up most of the shutters and meet up in the kitchen.

"My sister?" Asks McGee.

"I reckon she's probably still alive and safe enough. Seems as if these raiders split up."

"We should follow my sister."

Grim ignores the suggestion. "One group of warriors went to find this Brotherhood of Steel Base. I wouldn't give 'em much hope. If they took radiation medicine they might be ok. But by the look of the boxes in the truck, looks like the meds were unbroken into. So I don't give them much hope with radiation. On the otherhand they might turn around and come back here."

"But its a small party."

"So are we. Don't forget it's just you and me. Forget about those two downstairs. The man's a loss and the woman, well, she's in no state."

"We could take a lot of 'em."

"But not all and not if they got the initiative. ANyway, that group doesn't have your sister. It's the others. ANd they might turn back too. Got to be damn crazy to go off in this weather."

"You think they'll come back?"

"Maybe if they don't freeze to death in the snows, or find another place. But this snows going to make our job tougher."

McGee nods. "I figure they be at least 12 hours maybe a day ahead of us. But in the dark with this snow, we won't be able to reclaim the trail soon."

"No but I doubt this split up was permanent. They going to meet again somewhere else I figure. One party, moving slow with the capitives, gone West. Another group wants to scout North see what this Brotherhood of Steel stuff is all about. ANd there is this group that, close as I can figure, wanted to interrogate and then head out."

"I saw the bodies." Says McGee.

"Yeah, well. They had it comin. Live by the gun, die by the gun. ANd it was a pretty good shot for you too."

"Ain't but nothin'. She walked right into it. Still, ain't shot a woman before. Ain't shot anyone before, f'r that matter."

"You can turn back?" Grim says.

"Hell no."

"That's what I figured."

"So now what?" Asks the boy.

"We track 'em in the snow, we'll get lost. Better we figure out where they plan to meet up and then we go there. Chances are these Bloodravens are going to wait till everyone comes back, or at least they will wait for others to catch up. Should give us time."

McGee nods at this and says. "I'll check through their bags."

"Good and I'll see if I can fix some grub. Keep an eye peeled. I figure chances are pretty good that they going to come back."

The words are hardly spoken when the front door is opened and a gust of snowy air is blown into the room. Quickly Grim grabs a gun and McGee readies his rifle. They near the kitchen door, Grim looks at the boy, sees his ready. Whispers, "1,2,3" and opens the door weapons drawn.

Right into the barrel of a shotgun.

"Ain't polite to point guns" Says a loud male voice.

"Ain't polite not to knock." Says Grim.

The man laughs. It is Sam Fisher at the end of the automatic shotgun. Behind him, the woman Twelve Toes is holding a short submachinegun in her hands, and is smiling. There is another man in black robes. In his hands is a wicked looking weapon Grim hadn't seen before.

He moves the shotgun away and the two men embrace.

"Had trouble following you with all the weather starting. Seems I was late for the party."

"Only by an hour or so. How is it out there."

"A furious storm I tell ya. But this looks like a fine shelter."

"How's the boy."

"He'll live the monks tell me or at least so the good father tells me. Father William, meet Grim, the bounty hunter."

"Yes, I know the name." Says the priest. "I am just William."

"This is a rough business we are doing father, not a for a holy man." Says McGee.

"So I gather. But these warrior women, they are called Bloodravens, have been causing lots of trouble to the West and there is a new group, called the Brotherhood of the Steel, that are forcing people to flee from the East. The elders thought it best that I see what I can find, and offer what services I can."
Says WIlliam.

"William, I hope you are good with a gun, cause there is a fair chance you will need to use it before the night is dead." Says Grim.

 

[welsh]

RE: ooc: technical difficulties

McGee finds wood from the shed out back and they light a fire. Twelve Toes, who never was much for conversation, takes a rifle and trudges out into the snow to stand watch.

Sam Fisher, William, McGee and Grim compare notes of what they found and the recovering soldiers below.

"Well, them bloodravens ain't going to get all that far without rad protection." says Fisher, scratching his beard.

"Don't matter. We need to get back my sister." says McGee.

"No we need to tie up loose ends and if possible bring back your sister." Corrects Grim

"That includes them down yonder." Says Fisher, referring to the two Brotherhood soldiers.

"Well, what do you think a group of military types would do if they knew about Deliverance. You see their armor and weapons, and this was just a transportation squad. Imagine what the warriors will be like."

"Yea, Deliverance never did commit much to defense."

"The defense is secrecy."

Sam, a the wayward son of Deliverance farmers, doesn't need to be reminded. "Well, but I reckon we would do well to know what these Brotherhood folks are all about first."

"Whoever sent them will eventually figure out that they didn't get to that camp. When that's figured out someone will come looking for them. Those supplies are too much to pass up." Says William.

"So best we go soon before their friends show up. ANd with that snow, we got to follow the track while its fresh."

"Dead men tell no tales." Says Grim.

"You thinkin of finishing 'em?" Says McGee.

The group grows quiet. Sam, quietly continues to scratch his beard. William watches Grim patiently, measuring them.

And yet Grim is uncertain. "Maybe. They're not our business."

"But maybe killing them will make us their business?" Says William. "And if we do they will come for us."

"Not if we leave no evidence behind." Says Sam.

"But then again, might be good to make some new friends, or at least not make new enemies." Says Grim.

"I don't like the idea of slaughtering 'em like animals." mumbles McGee.

"If you leave them this fire and enough wood, take care of the woman perhaps, maybe they'll be ok. And you can go on your way."

"Don't know. But I reckon we can vote for it. Don