@bmxbrat484

Upon hearing her rather serious expression when speaking of her respecting him enough for her not to mess with her family, he scratched his chin for a moment, before sighing and shaking his head. "I appreciate the sentiment, Eira, I really do, but I meant that as a joke, not as something serious!" he spoke, sitting down close to the fire, allowing his legs to rest a bit. "I know you would never mean any harm to me, or my family!" his tone changed to reassuring one, with him speaking as if he would to a daughter.

Upon hearing Eira continue to discuss whatever concerns she had, his expression changed again, with him focusing his sights on the flames as she spoke and though his sight was not concentrated on her, his hearing was and he heard everything that she spoke. Upon finally voicing her concerns, his expression did not change, but instead, he himself started speaking. "It's simple, my dear Eira, it's because we are so different from them." he said, grabbing a stick and absently poking them as he spoke.

"We're so different from what they know of the world, so much so, that they are afraid that we might harm them, so they treat us with caution, afraid to trust us." he said, removing the stick from the flames and watching it burn whilst speaking. "Plus, the wasteland is not a place where you can afford to be too trusting, if you would see a giant of a man and a young woman speaking in third person, you'd be cautious as well... hell, if you remember, most of my clients were scared that I might kill them instead of save them!" he smiled at the thought and rose from the ground and approached Eira, lightly placing his hand on her shoulder.

"And if they prove to see us a threat and attack you, or me, then... well, I'm sure you know me well enough to imagine what would happen if they dared attack us!" for the briefest of moments, his sadistic side showed with a grin, however, he buried them again deeper than he already had. "But enough of this talk, we have one another and that is all that matters, now let us talk about something more light-hearted, like the liquor we'll drink by this time tomorrow!"

---

Anna yawned as she stared through the window of her own little home, well, her own home was among the larger ones of this settlements, but even so, it was nothing compared to the homes in Erubesco, or at least from what she heard. She had lived most of her life within the slums of the capital, so the largest home she had seen there was smaller than what she was living here. She shook her and smiled, the things that she was thinking of now of all things, her brother would arrive here tomorrow and she wanted to be rested, but the mere excitement at the prospect of her seeing her big brother again kept her awake and energetic.

A light snore momentarily distracted her from her thoughts. Her big and brave husband, well, he was bigger than her, but then again, many people were taller than her. She could not really remember when the two decided to marry, but she answered yes without any hesitation, the happiness that moment brought her... it was the best day of her life. He warned her before that he was a mercenary in the past, that he had gathered many enemies during his working times, in fact, it was one of his enemies that had driven him here. But she did not care, she loved him and he loved her, they would both deal with this issue now if it arose again.

Her thoughts again floated back to Aran, her big, protective brother. She remembered the day that she noticed his dark thoughts, the ones where he dreamed of carving people up, not to help them, but simply for his pleasure. She remembered how hurt and how sad he looked when he saw her staring at him as if he was a monster and she was very scared of him. But she realized that same night that he had not done anything like that because of her, she was his mental crutch, the one keeping him from snapping into his calculated, sadistic self. So, the next day, she greeted him with a smile, she apologized to him and then hugged him just foe good measure, then she promised that she would always be by his side, that she would never, ever leave him if she could help it.

The large smile she saw on him afterwards all that made her feel like she had conquered a great obstacle, like nothing could go wrong with the world and though a few hitches had appeared along the road, like her having to move here, the two had been keeping contact as often as they could, he would even come visit her as much as his time allowed and though her life was far from perfect, she would not change a thing in it.

She yawned again, as she grew ever more tired. Finally, she sighed and shook her head. It would not do for her to have bags under her eyes, after all, nearly two years had passed since the two had seen one another, she had to look good in front of him. So with that thought in mind, she bid the moon goodnight and walked back to the warmth of the bed where her husband lied in a deep sleep. Tomorrow would be a good day, she would finally see her brother after such a long time.

As her body fell on the soft bed, she felt like it was draining all energy from her, compounded with the comforting warmth, it would not be long until she fell asleep. Tomorrow would not be a good day... it would be the best day for her. And with that thought in mind, Anna Seiran finally fell into a deep sleep with a large smile on her face.

The heat from the Knight's grasp began traveling up Orion's arm and across his body, the conductive nature of his form distributing the warmth so that any of his surface area would likely be too hot for someone without a heat gift to grasp. The temperature, though increasingly worrisome, did not cause too much panic.

Tungsten carbide had a very, very high melting point.

She couldn't reach it. Probably. Maybe. Unless she wasn't alone. Or he couldn't shake her off. Or-

Well, any number of things. It didn't do well to feel cocky among members of the Royal military. "I'd say smart and alive's better than brave and dead, ma'am," he quipped back.

In any other situation, Orion would have just lifted his arm above his head and waited for her to drop. However, 'any other situation' did not involve a 6'6" Nordic woman with a wingspan that could probably hug an ox. Or the being under arrest bit.

Or the life-or-death factor. But this was not 'any other.'

He swung with his free arm to draw attention, and at the same time twisted about the arm she was grasping to try and find purchase in gripping her back as far up her forearm as he could. His knee came up for her side directly following his first swing, trying to take advantage of whatever lack of mobility he could cost her.

Dawn relaxed a bit. While they were all still very much strangers in this, the knowledge of someone having her back- even partially- made the situation just a bit less risky. She gave Drake a genuine smile from beneath her hat, then turned fully to Overreach as he approached. “Sounds like a plan.” She kept her expression relatively stoic as the thought of his Gift flickered through his head, immediately rebounding into her own before she could feasibly tune the thing out. Much like Drake, it seemed as if the man wasn’t too used to hanging around a telepath.

”I won’t say a word,” Dawn’s “voice” promised. While Overreach’s friendliness had been disconcerting at first, it had soon become almost refreshing. It wasn’t every day that you met someone so amiable in the ash, after all. Combined with the fact that he had already let slip his lack of weaponry, and she saw little reason to let slip his secrets.

Of course, it was always possible that he had his own mental Gift and was keeping her distracted, but that was an unfounded paranoia in this case.

With that said, Dawn settled onto the chilled concrete beneath her, swinging opening her pack and doing a quick check-up on her supplies before night fell.

---

The night had passed without event, thankfully. No slit throats, no standoffs, nothing. Dawn took her turns as night guard when roused, and, in the morning, as the sun’s flushed fingertips began to spread out along the horizon, took quiet sips of her water until the others had awakened. From then on, it only took an hour or so before they reached the little marketing settlement she had heard so much about.

It was an unspoken rule of the ashlands that no settlement could be too well off. Prosperity attracted raiders like honey did flies, and even if a town managed to fend off that particular threat successfully, it was inevitable that one faction or another would gain interest in the place and “politely” convince the residents to convert. As a result, most towns one found among the dust were small, run-down, or both.

This town was no exception. While it wasn’t in shambles, it was hardly anything luxurious, either. Stone and concrete huts huddled together alongside a dirt path, separated by patches of garden and fencing. In what spaces weren’t overtaken by the buildings there were stalls- each one stationed by gaunt-faced men, women, and, in a few case, children. All were shouting, hawking goods and services to any who passed. Past this make-shift market was a thin stream, and, past that, wall. The whole place was circled by cobblestone, in fact, and a handful of guards were stationed around the gaps.

It was nothing to raise a brow at. However, as their little troop came marching to the front entrance, and were absently waved ahead by the woman standing by, Dawn found herself pausing mid-step before moving on.

She could sense someone like her. Like Eira. Another mentalist. And they- she- was inspecting them all right back. Dawn opened her thoughts to the person, giving gentle reassurance that they meant no harm, while quickly throwing up a shield around the parts of her mind she preferred to be left untouched.

It was one thing to be friendly. Another thing entirely to let a complete stranger see all who she was and more.

@Hyro@Claw2k11@bmxbrat484@Conch Shell VII

Lucas discreetly slid past the door and into the bustling stone building with dim lighting. It seemed almost as if there were more people inside than outside. There were scars all around the cobblestone of the building showing signs of bar fights. It was more of a miracle that the building could still stand with so many annoyed, aggressive and intoxicated men and women in the same place. There was a slow yet upbeat music playing in the background as the patrons smacked their mugs to each others'. The young man looked around before popping out of existence and appearing in front of the barman, sitting on a stall. "Heya! How're ya doin', Sammy?" The patron next to him flinched, prompting him to drop the drink he was enjoying so much.

"Hm? Oh, it's you," the barman said, unaffected by the young man's sudden appearance. "What can I get you, Lucas?"

"Dinner and good night's rest'll do me good," he responded cheerfully. "What's the price for the next three days?" Lucas looked at the man intently, not taking his eyes off his for a second until the patron next to him shoved him. "Whaddaya think yar doin!? Ya knocked my grog over!" the man crudely yelled with his half open eyes. Lucas barely held onto his seat, balancing himself with a grasp on the counter. He looked over at the barman as if asking for permission. The barman sighed and rolled his eyes before gesturing for him to go ahead.

---

The doors of the tavern flew open, as the drunkard was sent out flying, leaving a faint trail of fire in the air as he slammed into a wall across the dusty street.

Vasuki

Vasuki had just finished setting up shop in a tin shack at the local marketplace, a term he would use loosely. He had his

various wares sprawled out on a rummaged hexagonal poker table inside his shack, with sofa chairs and a couch inside so

that customers could relax while he bartered with them. Above the entrance hung a large wooden sign with text crudely

written in marker saying "Vasuki's Maps and General Store (Will accept any form of currency)". Vasuki was not picky when

it came to trading and bartering, anything can potentially be valuable in the wastes, and he knew this well. Much of his

wares consisted of whatever he could get his hands on, guns, silverware, cigerettes, pots and pans, etc. However, the star

attraction of his shop and his real source of income were his hand-made charts and maps. Vasuki was an artist, and his

maps were his art, each one pain-stakingly made, covering much of the land he himself walked on foot across his life-long

trek through the wastes. Each one detailed important watering holes, notable terrain, popular caravan and trading routes,

even formations of the stars themselves. In the ash, knowing where you are a going is a fundamental step in maintaining

one's survival, and knowing where those scarce resources are a godsend to wanderers, and would pay a pretty penny to

attain that information.

Vasuki sits in a bright red chair behind the poker table which greatly contrasts with the muted colors of his

surroundings, eagerly awaiting his customers to enter. He is draped from head to toe in light sand colored desert robes

and sporting a bright sky blue poncho with gold color pattern, brown boots which little known to most others were steel-

toed, thick desert camo gloves, goggles for sunlight and sand protection obscuring his eyes, and a black cowboy hat with a

Ace of Spades deck card binded on his left side. The only skin visible on his body is his nose and adjacent cheeks with

small slivers of his dirty blonde hair sticking out from beneath his hat. Vasuki rarely stayed in any one place for too

long, thus did not care much for opening up to others, metaphorically or litteraly save a few occassions. The only thing

people needed to know about him is if there was a demand, he was the supply. Draped around his neck like some form of

living ornament is his beloved 6 foot black with white stripes pet ball python Arcamedis. Most people would not know just

by looking at him, but Arcamedis is as loving as a puppy, assuming he is well fed of course, which his owner is very

generous with doing so. Behind them sat a very large travelling pack, which carries everything Vasuki owns on this earth

inside. Next to the bag and in plain view were his hunting rifle and a 12-gauge shotgun, a clear warning to any would be

robbers that he will not take kindly to someone taking off with his merchandise without being properly compensated. Of

course, he always had an ace or two up his sleave for dealing with thugs, two long barreled six-shooters hidden beneath

his coat, and daggers and throwing knives of all shapes and sizes hidden everywhere a person could hide them save their

buttocks.

Vasuki had not been in the village long, having only arrived a few hours prior, greatly relieved to find some form of

civilization and human contact after days of exhaustive treking through the wastes. Now, well rested, well fed and well

stocked, he proudly opens his shop for buisness. His target demographic were other travelers, and he knew they would start

lining up to buy his maps out of neccessity. It is a service he is proud to do, so many others have perished under the

scorching sun and the unforgiving wilds, a fate he has nearly avoided on several occassions, and not an experience he

wanted others to feel. Of course, nothing ever truly comes free in this world, an opinion he is very eager to express.

Everything was now set up, all Vasuki had to do now was wait. Vasuki had the supplies he needed to enter the wastes once

more, but before that he seeks to reap the fruits of his own labor. Money is a beautiful thing, few other things make him

smile more brightly then a sac full of gold, the music of coins rubbing against eachother producing that melodious

jingling, and the satisfaction of a well done deal. Vasuki sat steady in his chair, eager to to make the sale, Arcamedis

reclining on his shoulders, relaxed and at ease.

Overreach rolled forward, smiling absently as he did so. He inhaled deeply through his nose, tilting his head back as he did so. He held his breath for a moment, and then exhaled sharply through his mouth. And then, without any kind of warning...

"There's a dull, faded haze on the Wasteland, there's a dull, faded haze on the Wasteland. The wand'rers walk on while the raiders are shy... and the shelters are climbing straight up to the sky!
"Oh, what a beautiful morning! Oh, what a beautiful day! I've got a beautiful feeling: everything's going my way!"

Overreach, objectively, was not a very good singer. He could carry a tune convincingly, and he did hit the right notes, but his tempo shifted back and forth as he sang. But no one could say he couldn't sing with conviction. It was only once he'd gotten a good ways into the town that he noticed he was being watched, as it were. He hesitated a moment and quickly built some mental barriers around the important parts of his mind. Whoever was looking into him, they'd probably already learned enough.

"...huh. I don't remember how the rest of that goes." He shrugged his shoulders and then continued rolling on. "Oh well. Anyway, it looks like we made it! Way to go, team!" He stretched his arms above his head and grunted softly, still rolling slightly forward with the momentum for a moment or two before continuing. "You folks wanna stick together a little longer, or should we split up, have everybody grab what they need and meet up somewhere later?"

@bmxbrat484@Claw2k11@EchoicChamber@Hyro

Kora was doing her best to try and get some purchase on Tin Man's core, as that was where she could potentially do the most damage. He intent was to sweep round behind him and wrap an arm round his neck. This golem was bulkier than her, but she was taller, and so he'd have a hard time unbalancing her there.

Unfortunately for her plan, the man grabbed her back, and a metal hand wasn't known to be a very yielding one. One twist let her know that any attempt to part them would come at the expense of any use of that hand...and that wasn't a card she wanted to play just yet. She kept the heat going. He'd release his grip. It was only a matter of nerve.

She had far more pressing things to deal with anyway. She kicked away, twisting her arm in the man's grip enough to get out of the way of the strike for her head, but the knee caught her ribcage in a glancing blow and there was an audible crunch. Kora cursed and clasped her side with her free hand. This guy hit hard. Plenty of others would take that moment to reconsider her strategy. Kora, less so.

"One more chance....to resolve this." she said through gritted teeth.
"Say you surrender...or things will get ugly."

Or course from an uniformed party's perspective, what you had was an injured knight threatening a man she had no way of harming as if she held the advantage.

---

The silver-haired creature paused as the figure passed her, slowing for a moment in apparent surprise at the sight before altering her speed sufficiently to fall into step. Her head tilted to one sde in a fashion that might mirror its own... though possibly for different reasons... as shortly after a few moments of attempting to determine the nature of this person she bore her teeth. Her teeth were a lot sharper than a persons should have been, structured more in a way that implied an obligate carnivore than an omnivore, and the opening of her mouth, though when closed had given not indication of anything particularly unusual about it, now seemed to stretch much too far and show off too many teeth to be normal.

She'd found a target.

There was an almost imperceptible change as RE1 tensed to spring. If fairly observant, The Conductor would have about a second's grace period to avoid the pounce. @Conch Shell VII

The Conductor passed the creature without incident. Of course, they would be a fool to not suspect an attack from strangers -- they'd been in their line of work too long not to. Still, they would be home soon, and they did not expect trouble. But not expecting trouble was a good way to get yourself hurt out here, they reminded themselves. After the incident back at the settlement, they should probably make sure nothing was going to happen. Just to be safe. And so they happened to glance over their shoulder at just the right time, and they saw RE1 preparing to spring into action. They were no stranger to oddness in their line of work, but that wasn't to say nothing surprised them anymore. But of course, RE1 couldn't tell whether they were surprised this time, because they were wearing a mask.

Regardless, they whirled around as RE1 leapt towards them. In a single fluid motion, they dropped the handle of the wagon, appeared to push off of it and sprang backwards, the creature's fangs whipping just past their arm as they nimbly dodged her opening strike. They landed in the dust a few feet away, feet spread wide, and struck a combat stance. They inhaled deeply and sharply, tasting the acrid tinge to the air. Had that been there before this... person... showed up? Perhaps. Regardless, it boded poorly. Not that The Conductor seemed to mind. In lieu of actually fighting, they threw out one hand, palm up, as if silently commanding the creature to stop.

And as they did so, there was the sound of something building up -- a quick, rising whir -- followed by the sound of several miscellaneous horns, playing a single note. It seemed to have burst forth from The Conductor themselves, as if by swinging out their hand as they did they'd thrown a musical chord at their assailant. Of course, a musical sting would make a poor weapon under normal circumstances. But here, now, it may as well have been the sting of some giant insect, infecting the creature with an intense paralytic. Well, no, that's not what it felt like. It wasn't that she couldn't move, it was that she was being held back -- bound by invisible chains, frozen in place. It was as though she didn't want to move, as though what she wanted to do was being overridden and replaced with a single order that repeated over and over in her subconscious mind as her heart pounded in her ears:

"Stay still."

The Conductor lowered their head, and their mask seemed to glared intensely at RE1, silently daring them to take another step.

@VitoftheVoid

RE1's teeth closed on empty air and the momentum of her spring continued to carry her forwards, past the point where her target had been, to land in the dust. She hissed, more greenish ichor dropping down from her front and landing on the cracked earth, before she rose to her feet and swung round to face the Conductor, ready to make another attempt-

Then she froze.

With the strange sound that emanated from the equally strange figure, the mutant stopped in her tracks. Her arms dropped down to her sides, and RE1's expression, previously filled with a sort of feral anger, was replaced by a mix of worry and confusion that came from the fact that she was pretty certain what she was doing was entirely against her own interests, yet she was doing it anyway. An Erubescan experiment was never really designed to have the strongest will, and that was rather returning to haunt the creature, as she was powerless to fend off any kind of mental influence.

@Conch Shell VII

The Conductor stared intently at RE1 for what seemed like a very long moment. But after a moment or two, they slunk back over to the wagon. Their breathing steady, they calmly removed the tarp and set it aside. With the tarp gone, the contents of the wagon were revealed. It was mostly filled with seemingly random metal and electronic salvage, but there was also several days' worth of food and water in there, along with a not-inconsiderable amount of ammunition. The Conductor calmly reached down into the wagon and retrieved a well-worn handgun. They inhaled deeply and cocked the weapon, and as they did, an ascending whir rang out over the Ashlands.

RE1's heart pounded in her ears, growing steadily faster, except... no. That wasn't her heart.

And then, there was a yelp. Surprise? Pain? No, it was something else. It was a signifier that something was coming, like a punctuation mark at the beginning of a sentence, and come it did. A fast, pounding bassline swept over the experiment, replacing her drive to stand still. Standing still was the one thing she could no longer do. RE1 was swept away by a deep, intense feeling from the pit of her stomach, a feeling that commanded her... to dance. Yes, dance. Let the music claim her. How exactly she danced was up to her, but she knew it was the only thing she wanted to do, even if she didn't want to do it.

The Conductor, meanwhile, danced like no one was watching. They bounded along the dusty road, legs pounding, neck bobbing, keeping perfect time with the rhythm. They twirled their gun along their fingers, stood before the experiment and tilted their head down, giving the impression that they were smiling. And then, as before, they swept up close to RE1 and began to dance... not with her, per se, but closely enough and simply enough that perhaps she could be mimicked. It was almost like they were trying to teach her.

"As he came into the window, it was the sound of a crescendo.
He came into her apartment, he left the bloodstains on the carpet.
She ran underneath the table, he could see she was unable.
So she ran into the bedroom. She was struck down, it was her doom."

Then, suddenly, The Conductor slunk behind RE1 and began to slowly glide around her, weapon at the ready. Their head tilted from side to side curiously, and their mask still grinned its wicked grin at the experiment. Their manner hand changed, perhaps appropriately, to that of a beast stalking its prey.

"Annie, are you okay? Said Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?
Annie, are you okay? Said Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?
Annie, are you okay? Said Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?
Annie, are you okay? Said Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?"

The Conductor leapt backwards, between the wagon and the experiment, and began to dance a complex, intricate dance. They leaned, they bounced, they swept their body from side to side as if they were the only person in the Wasteland.

"Annie, are you okay? Will you tell us that you're okay?
There's a sign in the window that he struck you -- a crescendo, Annie!
He came into your apartment, left the bloodstains on the carpet,
and then you ran into the bedroom! You were struck down -- it was your doom!"

"Annie, are you okay? Said Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?
Annie, are you okay? Said Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?
Annie, are you okay? Said Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?"

And then, suddenly, The Conductor stopped in their tracks and struck a pose, dramatically pointing their finger at RE1, weapon at their side.

"You've been hit by... You've been hit by, a smooth criminal."

@VitoftheVoid

RE1 watched the...man? Woman? Intently...even though she was most certainly concerned, the concern still didn't seem to will her into moving away. It was an unsettling sensation. Neither wishing to stay nor being able to summon up the will to leave. Even the reveal of the weapon was not so severe as to spur action from her.

And that was, as it turned out, one of the more usual things she'd been bid to do.

If the forced stop had left RE1 confused, then the moment she began to feel the music, and the irresistible bid to dance along with it, brought that disbelief to levels she couldn't have imagined.

This was far stranger.

It was also far far more distressing.

Much like the freeze she didn't like it. She knew it was bad. What was more...it was painful. As she began to jerkily move in time with the disembodied music, struggling to adhere her animalistic posture to the unnatural more of travel, she could feel each abrupt shift in her body position tug and tear at the edges of the wounds in her abdomen. Ichor seeped down the robe and dripped onto her feet and the road below to make an oil slick beneath. Her apparent partner's masked expression was all smiles, a bobbing, mocking visage that did nothing to mirror her pain and alarm as she danced herself apart.

Eventually there was a stop.

The Conductor struck a pose.

RE1 buckled to the floor.

The experiment dropped to her knees, hands clutching at her midriff before she coughed and wretched up green ooze into the dirt. What was left was a murky puddle of what served for blood, that she hunched over, long hair hanging over her face, looking thoroughly defeated.

This was, not all that surprisingly given her background, the first time RE1 had ever danced. That considered, and given her state of health, he hadn't made to bad an effort.

But she really really didn't want to do it again.@Conch Shell VII

The music kept going for a moment or two after that. The Conductor performed a heavy flourish and kick, seemingly only to emphasize how much fun they were having, and only at the end of it did they see exactly what they'd done to RE1. Upon seeing this, they stopped in their tracks and stared down at them for a moment. There were a few more verses to the song, but... no. No, this creature had had quite enough for one day. The Conductor clicked their heels together, stood up straight and snapped their fingers. The sound of a needle ripping across an old vinyl record rang out across the empty wastes, loud as a gunshot.

They took a long, steady breath and looked down at the broken creature in front of them. They tilted their head to the side curiously. The music had stopped now, and so had the compulsion. The only sounds left were the echoes of the vinyl scratch and a distant, howling wind. The Conductor let out a deep, ragged sigh and shook their head. They lifted their weapon briefly and trained it on RE1. With their other hand, they pointed down at her, then jerked their thumb back towards themselves, and then held out their thumb parallel to the ground. That done, they tilted their head to the side, as if to silently ask a question, and waggled their thumb ever so slightly up and down, seemingly unsure of whether it should go up or down.

Combined, these gestures all seemed to form into a very simple question: "We good?"

@VitoftheVoid

RE1 was relieved to hear the music abruptly cut before she was forced to her feet again, and as a result, remained where she had dropped, in an awkward kneeling position on the ground before the lurid green puddle.

She lifted her gaze briefly to regard the individual who'd managed to exact such a humiliating defeat on her. They had a weapon trained upon her, though even if she felt like trying to tackle that it wouldn't stop them doing that....thing again. RE1's gaze set upon the Conductor and lingered for a moment, before turning her eyes down and lowering her head in a gesture of submission. Even as tenacious as RE1 could be she was realistic enough to know there was no way she could win this.

The experiment stifled another cough and doubled over, lamenting her own poor fortune. It wasn't fair. She just wanted something to eat. Well. Someone in this case. But ashland dwellers didn't count really.

@Conch Shell VII

In all this excitement, it quit seemed like he had been forgotten. Bit of a battle raging here, but it was clear the metal fella had this one in the bag. Worst part was neither seemed keen on hirin' 'im on, so this whole thing was just a waste'a time. Best thing he could do now was kill off the knight and claim the drops. With her coughing up blood and all she wouldn't last much longer anyway, and this way he got a cut of the loot.

Muttering under his breath about a hell for stingy Erubescans he gestured at Kora with his left hand, making a finger gun. Not a very scary gesture, normally, but his version was far more lethal. Taking a moment to take aim, he fired off his first shot. Making bored 'pew' noises he caused bullets to materialise in front of his fingers, already moving at full speed, with none of the muzzle flash usually associated with guns. The sound was also a bit different. While there was no chemical explosion, there was a slight bang from the bullets breaking the sound barrier as they popped into this world. He was aiming for the knees, of course. No sense in killing her off before he could learn something useful, like her pin code.

Slowly walking forward while firing his finger guns at regular intervals, Alex kept his right hand in his pocket. He didn't even need it for now. Stupid woman had wandered all this way to get into a losing fight, and wasn't even wearing proper armour. Based on what he could see of their power they wouldn't be much of a threat. Now if they could project heat at range, then he'd start being worried.

The Conductor waited until RE1 lowered their head in submission, and then twisted their wrist to give the creature a thumbs-up. That done, they lowered their weapon, quickly turned on their heel and slunk back toward their supplies. They uncocked the weapon and carefully set it back in the wagon. That done, they leaned down and began to slowly reattach the tarp, slowly and methodically tying it down to each corner in turn.

But as they reached the third corner, they hesitated. They glanced back up at RE1 and... hesitated, for just a moment. They looked back up at the creature, lying wounded in the dirt, oozing green ichor from its gaping wound, and they stopped. The creature... whatever it was, seemed human enough. From a distance, anyway. It clearly posed a serious threat -- in The Conductor's experience, anything that tries to bite you is probably bad news -- but... seeing it lying there like that almost made them feel sorry for it. This thing was sad, and it was hurt, but more to the point, it was clearly defeated. The Conductor had clearly imparted the lesson that they were more dangerous than this thing. Being forced to dance with a gaping, seeping stomach wound tended to do that. So the worst that could happen was she would try to kill them again, and they were pretty sure they'd made it clear they were a bad idea.

"In a world where everyone has a Gift, what even counts as human any more?"

...damn it.

The Conductor sighed heavily, rested their hands on the edge of the wagon and tapped their foot. What did she want, they thought to themselves. Why had she attacked? She had lashed out with rows of fangs and tried to bite The Conductor, so... she was hungry. And, clearly, a meat-eater. Okay, that was simple enough. The Conductor carefully considered their options for a moment or two, then decided to take the stupid option anyway. They reached into the wagon and pulled out a piece of cured venison, wrapped in a sturdy beige cloth. They waved it in front of their mask for a moment, as if sniffing it, and then tossed it underhand towards RE1. It bounced once, and the cloth unraveled -- conveniently, keeping the meat on top of it rather than having it tumble into the dust. If asked, The Conductor would of course claim that was intentional.

There. They'd done their good deed for the day. Now they could put the tarp back on and keep moving.

@VitoftheVoid

The discolored, empty landscape that stretched for miles to comes, devoid of nothing but gray plains and a lone figure that traversed the aptly named Ashlands. White armour, white hair and pale complexion Lyonel stands completely out of place in the sea of grays, the very same individual bear no signs of being weary from his weeks of travel by his lonesome. A short sabbatical from his duties in Erubesco as a Knight among its Royal Military was much needed and even he, self-claimed as one of his Majesty's most loyal servants, needed some ample downtime.

Rocky gravel would crumble under the step of his metal boot as he makes his way to what he remembers to be the closest town on the route back to the Kingdom, the sun would shine down onto himself as he walked across the plains of the Ashlands. He was far from being hopeful of reaching Erubesco by today so he shall have to make due with resting for the night somewhere in the isolated town. Climbing up an ashen hill Lyonel would come across the sight of several worn-down buildings scattered across near the foot of the hill, he promptly treks down to the edge.

Seeing the shabby cesspool of a town, the living condition would most definitely fall far short to the Kingdom's and he couldn't help but sympathise with the residents, it was only a few years ago that he found himself doing what he needed to make it out alive. The sacrifices of others and one Knight's act of kindness had led him to where he was now and there were only so many words to describe his gratitude, which can only..

His line of thought would be interrupted as he would catch the sounds of a struggle not far from where he was, immediately he leaves for where the sounds had originated from, most likely a brawl here was little more than a common occurrence nevertheless his curiosity had been piqued. Lyonel would be treated to the sight of a three-way deadlock between a man with a mask, another man with dark, metallic skin and a red-haired woman who towered over the two, who instantly caught his attention. The Viking.. ever since he had left for his sabbatical not once did he come across another hailing from Erubesco and for the first time in weeks he finds Kora Norrevinter, another accomplished Knight with power to match his own, failing to fend off the metal man whilst being under fire by the masked man. A sudden chill falls upon the battle as Lyonel wastes no time to jump into action.

While the Ashlands were nowhere near as hot and dry as a desert still the level of water vapour present had gave him only so much ice to work with, this definitely would have been a problem if it weren't for his for ample foresight to internally conserve moisture during his weeks of travel. Frost forms as vapour crystallises, body temperature reaching subzero and with a wave of his hands, a cluster of tall ice shards would cascade towards Kora and the metal man, aiming to forcibly separate the two as they will find a ice wall materialised between the both of them. The Knight draws his sword, levelling the long steel blade at the masked man to discourage further action from him.

Dawn’s mouth had softened into a smile at Overreach’s little ditty, lingering on even after he had finished. After spending some time wandering the wastes on her own, such jolly company was welcome. She adjusted her sleeves absently at his question, glancing at the sky for a moment.

“I might try staying here for a bit, actually,” she admitted. “If the prices aren’t too high, of course. It’s, um, it’s been awhile since I’ve stayed in a town.” Her fingers, satisfied with her work on one cuff, moved to the other. “If we don’t see each other again, just, uh, make sure to take care out there.” She gave the group a brief wave before shuffling off deeper into the village, slinging her bag off her shoulder and into her arms.

In the Wastes, money was worth about as much as rocks- unless you worked for the factions in one way or another, that is. It was a system of bartering, and while Dawn had little to offer in the way of services, her travels had seen her gathering a jumble of various goods to exchange. A small sack of coffee beans. Strips of leather. Children’s shoes. Bundles of clothes that impractical, or near impossible for Dawn to fit into. Luckily, it seemed that luxury goods were in demand in this particular settlement, and she managed to replenish her supplies and thensome.

After she finished her little shopping trip, Dawn found herself wandering through the town in search for an inn, a half-eaten loaf of walnut bread in hand. She had been pointed in quite a few directions, but it was a bit difficult when nearly all the buildings were unmarked. Before she could progress further down her current path, however, a body was thrown in her way like a sack of trash.

Dawn stopped, quickly moving to check the man’s pulse. Upon seeing that he wasn’t dead, she knocked back the last of her bread and glanced into the building he had been tossed from; largely out of a sense of morbid curiosity., if she was honest with herself. From what she could see, it was a bar. Dawn wasn’t much of a drinker- alcohol put a heavy damper on her Gift capabilities- and she was about to move on from the sight before she caught a glimpse of a familiar face.

Her brows rose slightly.

“Lucas?”

@Conch Shell VII@Sketcher@Claw2k11@bmxbrat484@Hyro

Kora was quite prepared to take knocks fighting against the metal man. If a broken rib or two was the worst injury she'd every sustained in the line of duty, she'd be extremely lucky. What was wasn't entirely prepared for the merc whose offer she turned down to apparently drop the price and weigh in on the fight as well. And not on her side.

From her rather compromised position it was hard to move as it was, and by the time she heard the peculiar, muted noise of the projectiles it was too late to avoid them.

Kora cried out in pain as her kneecap splintered. The leg of her uniform ripped and warm blood came coursing down her shin. The knight was just able to swing herself in so as to momentarily use the tinman as a human (well, metal) shield to prevent it striking both her lower limbs. Her gaze flickered down to her knee.
She was pretty certain it wasn't bleeding enough to kill her.

She was also pretty certain that with two potential opponents it would cost her the fight.

Unless.

"Am I clear to activate?" Kora spoke through gritted teeth as she talked back to the Citadel.

"I hope you are entirely clear that the mission brief outlined 'alive'."

"Cut the crap ORIN! Am I clear?"

"Fine. Yes. Activate."

Back at the Citadel ORIN cringed momentarily at the moment the audio squealed and cut as the mic disintegrated. Knight was on her own now. Hopefully smarter than she looked.

The heat wave that exploded out of Knight Norrevinter's body tore up the ground in a circular arc around her with an intensity that caused dry grass and wood to immediately burst into flames and the ground around her to be seared like charcoal. The ice that was bid to rise up was not only melted but blasted to steam.

The Knight's eyes, once a ferrous grey, were now a bright, luminous crimson, the irises glowing like crucibles in a furnace. The very air that issued from her lungs seemed to warp and twist with heat.

Whilst her arm was still in the grip of the metal man, she turned from him with complete abandon, and disregarded her apparent fellow knight's appearance on the scene. Her target was the ashrat. That vulture who dared think he could take advantage of this situation for his own gain. A wolfish smirk crossed Kora's face for a moment before she let loose a screaming battle cry and flung her free hand out, unleashing a wave of heat and force toward the merc. It rocketed out of her body in a wide cone and came at him like a perfect little scale model of a pyroclastic flow. Flying ash, rocks, and superheated air that tore up the ground and scorched the rocks.

The hammer of the gods.

@VitoftheVoid@TechnoWizROK@ScoundrelQueen

A hit. Not surprising, considering the situation. With an injury like that she wouldn't really be a threat. Lazily he occasionally shot bullets at her as she used the tin man for cover. It wasn't a state that could be maintained. Either the tin man was going to end this one, or she'd be forced out of cover and get shot. Either way, this was not going to go well for the knight.

Of course, that was when a sudden ice barrier popped out of nowhere to attempt to separate the knight and the tin man. Looking briefly over Alex spotted another fellow, who was now pointing sword at him. Really? A sword? Whoever this guy was, they certainly valued style over function. In a real fight there was no way you'd even get close enough to use that thing, so him waving it around was a bit of an empty gesture. Unless he was trying to indicate his willingness to open Alex's mail?

Of course, Alex's internal dialogue was interrupted by a sudden explosion, which appeared to originate from the knight. She had mumbled something into an earpiece before suddenly heating up immensely. Pressure differentials created a shockwave, and a blast of hot air caused Alex to be momentarily pushed off balance. Huh. Turned out he'd underestimated the knight girl. She pulled back her arm before moving it rapidly forward, the air around he hand seemingly twist from the heat. Knowing that an attack was obviously coming Alex threw up his right hand, a wall of granite instantly forming between himself and the scary heat-laser. He was rewarded a moment later with a sound similar to thunder and another blast of hot wind, indicating that his intuition had been correct. So not only did she have explodey powers, but she was also able to shoot heat-lasers. Maybe he should have take this a bit more seriously, and shot her in the head instead.

Regardless, he now had a number of issues to deal with. Foremost was the issue that that explosion had probably destroyed anything valuable the knight lady had on her. Which was a pain. Why was he even doing this if there wasn't any gain in it. Sighing at the waste he sent a grenade flying over the wall with a flick of his wrist. It landed softly, bounding off the hard sand, beeping softly. Of course the lady knight wasn't able to move properly, courtesy of that hole in her knee. He'd like to watch her try and hobble out of the blast radius, but that fragmentation grenade was probably going to shred her. Lots of offense and no defence made for a glass cannon. Oh well. Maybe he'd at least manage to get some respect out of this from the locals. Turn it into a story about how he'd intervened to stop the authorities from claiming this little backwater shithole. Not much of a silver lining, but Alex worked with the tools he was given.

Glancing over at the fella with the sword Alex started walking towards him. His outstretched right hand continued to generate more granite wall, separating himself from the fragmentation grenade and wounded laser-knight. "Oi, buddy! You're a frost guy, right? Don't suppose you could rig me up some cooling right about now? I suspect it's about to get really hot over here." There was an almost friendly casual tone to Alex's voice. It didn't sound like the voice of someone who was currently trying to kill someone else.

Drake had taken a few shifts throughout the night, having been best fit for lookout seeing how he could both perch himself atop a building and sense out any nearby auras or threats. After being fed, it was the least he could do for the group and he didn’t mind taking longer shifts than the others. He did manage to get a couple hours of sleep, albeit not much due to his distrust and lingering paranoia. Even so, he was feeling a lot better in the morning after receiving a much needed meal. Certainly not in peak condition, granted, but better nonetheless.

As they arrived in town however, his nerves spiked and there was a dwindling regret in the back of his mind. Drake typically kept to himself in the wastelands, and so this kind of atmosphere was extremely new if not a bit intimidating. And Overreach's singing did little to calm his nerves. His gloved hands tightened around the draw straps of the small sack he carried on his back. He was always partial to keeping a smaller bag, as a backpack was often harder to manage due to his wings. That, and he preferred to travel light anyway.

It wasn’t long before the suggestion of splitting up was mentioned, putting Drake in a position he didn’t want to be in. Towns were a new concept for him - he had avoided them up until now. So needless to say, he was a little more than clueless as to how to traverse it. However, seeing how the group was splitting up, he felt he had very little choice in the matter.

He stood there for a moment, swallowing down the hard lump in his throat and focusing on the task at hand. Silver eyes looked about, observing the other citizens briefly to gain some intel on proper interaction and mannerisms before he set off to look for a specific stand. A food stand, of course. It didn’t take long to find one, and he approached carefully, shrugging his sack off and digging inside. From it he pulled two unopened water bottles. Fresh water in the wastes was something that always fetched a fair price, regardless of supply. Everyone needed water - well, everyone but him. Drake had a bit of a… medical problem, one could call it, when it came to digesting water. Or getting wet, for that matter. Needless to say, two bottles earned him a decent amount of food in return - several bags of jerky and a handful of canned beef soup. It was enough to rightly fill his bag, which he slung back over his shoulders, harboring one of the packets of jerky to snack on as he walked.

And rather aimlessly at this point.

While he was feeling rather confident in his venture thus far, he admittedly wasn’t sure where to go from here. At this point, he was practically sightseeing and people watching rather than doing anything practical. He was starting to consider taking off again when he heard some commotion a little ways down. Curious, the winged boy drew closer. It looked to be some sort of tavern and, low and behold, Dawn had also managed her way to this building from a different direction. She also knew someone inside, from the sound of it. Had she been involved in whatever had just gone down here?

Drake wasn’t particularly keen on being anywhere near a bar, his experience with alcoholics being less than savory, but after seeing a drunken man half sprawled on the ground, he felt it wrong to let the telepath tread forward on her own, even if she did know someone inside. Alcoholics were often known to be illogical and sometimes even dangerous.

“Dawn,” he recalled curtly as he approached, his eyes casting a brief glance toward the man on the ground before looking back to her. “Everything alright?”

The boy's gaze trailed to Lucas a bit uncertainly, as he seemed to be the most likely culprit for the dazed man lying on the street outside.

“A friend of yours, I’m assuming?”