12th of MidSpring, 38 months and 11 days since the bombs dropped.

The sun rose over a sickly-Green sky, baking the abandoned ruins of New Greymare in a dry heat which made the town inhospitable (though not uninhabitable) even to mutants. Despite this, a desperate group of survivors had holed up inside, taking an old hotel for shelter as they recuperated from wounds and losses sustained in the last raider attack. It was down to just 4 of them now, everyone else had either fallen in the fight or fled and been separated from the others.

Zim, a gnome and the group’s mechanic, took stock of their remaining supplies. Unfortunately the raiders had been desperate, meaning they fought to the last man and left the survivors with little to loot. 5 cans of beans, 2 cans of spam, half a pack of beef jerky, 3 cloves of garlic and one dead pigeon were all the food left for the 4 of them, it wouldn’t last long. They were fine for ammo, for the time being, but low on gasoline and on manpower.

Zim approached the others, all of them big folk, crowded around an old radio playing static and sighed. As bad as their situation was, it paled in comparison to yesterday. “If it’s alright with you all, I’d like to say a few words for the folks we lost. We’ve not been travelling together long, and some of us less time than others, but I’m sure we all lost someone important to us in that last attack, and in the last few weeks. Bill, Kat, Juanita, Grud, Stephan, Eldarion, Mary-Belle, Whitman, I know I’ll never forget Jane, that woman saved my life a dozen times....I guess what I’m trying to get at is, we won’t ever forget them. But we can’t sit around feeling sorry for ourselves, not right now. They died, so we could live, and I’m not gonna let that be for nothing. We don’t know when the next attack will be, but we have to be ready for it when it comes. If you guys have grieving to do, I suggest you save it in your heart until later, ‘cause right now we gotta get to scavenging and during up our defences. We can’t stay here too much longer but if we don’t find some fuel and food, we can’t exactly leave. So, does anybody have a plan? I can try to siphon fuel outta cars outside, maybe one of you could search for food?” Zim nervously fiddled with a screwdriver in his pocket, trying to think of the right words. He was never much of a speech-maker, especially not on sad occasions. He was better when it was a celebration, but he didn’t anticipate one of those for some time.

S’Hraa silently cursed his luck. Though he and the others managed to fend off the raiders, they did make off with most of their supplies and a hefty body count. Now there is just four left and enough food for only a few days at most. At least he managed to eat one of the dead raiders and though it was one of the smaller races, a halfling if he recalls correctly, it will sustain him enough for nearly a week.

With a new day comes new problems, they would need to scavenge food and fuel before something else befalls them. A fact only reinforced by Zim’s words. S’Hraa needed no time for mourning with the matter at hand being more urgent, not that he would otherwise.

” And they shall never truly die as long as our hearts continue to beat. We are living on time they gave us and sitting around is a luxury we cannot afford right now. I can go look for something to eat while you all figure out the fuel situation.” S’Hraa then got up and walked out of sight of the others. Confident in his distance he abandoned walking in favor of slithering, giving his limbs some rest as well as letting him cover more ground. As far as he knows, the others see him only as he wishes to be seen, as a Human. He often had to sacrifice comfort to keep up appearances, his legs were not meant to travel as much as he did recently, and even after sleeping were still sore. The respite, even if it would end up brief, is welcome.

S’Hraa surmised the hotel would certainly have some place for storing and preparing food and after a little bit of searching found the kitchen. Unfortunately, it seemed the place was picked clean long ago and nothing edible remained. But before he could let out a string of obscenities, he detected something nearby. At first, he thought it was one of the others but, after probing the air with his forked tongue, he detected an unfamiliar scent. Dropping low and after a few corners he found a fawn passed out on the ground. ” A victim of the dry heat, hopefully it won’t claim us as well. A pity it is like this, I’d prefer something still moving. But I’m good enough for now, the others would need this more than me.” After ensuring its death with his dagger, he carried it back to where the others were. A handful of hours and all he had to show for it was this small thing, but it’s better than nothing.

“It seems that, this building at least, was picked clean long ago but I did find this fawn. Not much meat on it but it should last us a meal or two. Did we get enough fuel? I’d like to get out of here before this dry weather affects my scales… er skin.” S’Hraa said, hoping no one noticed his gaffe. “Speaking of the heat, how is our water situation? Did we manage to get away with any?” He added, in an attempt to distract from his mistake as well as being a genuine concern. Though he like any snake was well suited for going long periods without water, he figured the others probably would not last half as long as himself. He did not like having to rely on others but he would need to put his trust in them to survive the coming days, weeks, or however long it will take. And he can’t trust the dead to do anything but rot.

The scent of gun-smoke still seemed to cling to the skin of Mercy LaCroix as she rested nearby. Dust still clung to her coat, hat and skin where it could and she'd peeled off her gloves to wipe away the dirt and grime that coated the revolver in her hand. To anothers eyes, it might almost seem a senseless vanity to be attending to cleaning a weapon that was functioning perfectly almost to a 'showroom' finish before one had even taken care of themselves, but it was more than that; reflection. Prayer.

She'd come to the group recently, her wandering travels having aligned with the larger caravan as it had been. They were good people, people she'd wished to help and protect using the abilities she'd been blessed with.

Now so many of them were dead.

In the fight, she'd been a blazing ballet of lead and gun-smoke cutting down raiders and avoiding bullets, but it hadn't been enough. She couldn't put all the raiders down, she couldn't protect everyone she wished and as she'd been grimly reminded of later there was only so much healing she could provide. Even an Aasmir blessed as she was couldn't lay hands on the wounded over and over again.

Drained as she was from the efforts of healing, she'd been sitting there in that 'prayer' nonspeaking for almost half an hour before she finally holsters the weapon and seems to come back to reality.

"We're hurting," she speaks evenly, reaching to retrieve her gloves. "Those that hit us and took what we have would know it. We should check to see if there are any trails that show some broke away. It might well lead us to where any backup they have is holed up, or maybe even water if they've been haunting and hunting around here for a while." A pause, she pulls the leather taught over her right hand and then reaches to glove the left. "At the very least, we'll know if they're more likely to come back while we're still licking our wounds."

Of course, Mercy wasn't a tracker, but it was a suggestion the others could use. Not quite the plan Zim was asking for, but it was a start! S'Hraa's return with his small prize earns a frown, but she nods none the less. Anything that wasn't cutting into what they had was one step further from starvation. She still had water in her canteen, but they'd need more soon enough.

With an exhaled breath, she finally reaches for her hat where it had rested on the rubble beside her, placing it atop one knee while she worked to re-secure the ties that kept her hair pinned out of the way. "Moving is a good idea when we can, but in the mean time we should make sure we're as safe as we can get and look to see if we can find supplies of any kind. Scraps are still something."

Endre says nothing as the others say a few words and quickly do what they can to ease the pain of those they have known passing. He leans quietly against a dilapidated sand scored cabinet, quietly cleaning his rifle of carbon scoring and the thick cloying dust that seems to get everywhere. He is relatively new to the band, finally tiring of his self imposed exile and seeking out the companionship of those who do not hate him for what he is. At least for a little while. He knows that this is not likely to last for long, eventually words or bullets will fly and he will be back alone on the dusty road until loneliness forces him to seek companionship yet again.

Finally when the others begin speaking of plans her shakes himself from his melancholy and begins to reassemble his rifle with clean practiced movements that speak of a relative lifetime of muscle memory. He nods to Mercy as his hands continue to work at his weapon. "They were desperate, I doubt they left any men behind. They attacked us with the ferocity of cornered animals. If there is anything of value left in their camp, wherever it may be. Chances are that it is water, water is heavy and hard to transport. Prey to your god, and if they are good perhaps they had some kind of heavy foodstuffs as well." He thinks back to the desperation of the attack, and the whipcord thin bodies on some of their attackers. "Though I would not bed our survival on it. I will take my bike back. It should have enough fuel to get me there, and it has two empty jerry cans if I find a water source. And I have cords if they have some nicely prepared for us."

He turns towards the door slinging his rifle over one shoulder before running his roughly calloused hands over one of the horns sweeping back beside his head. "Make sure that you search our fallen allies vehicles, friends though they may have been many will still choose themselves over their comrades." Turning his demonic visage away from the others he heads quickly towards his bike, slowly checking it over before mounting it with ease. Lifting his canteen to his lips he takes a small sip, hearing the liquid within it slosh and feeling it's deceptive weight. In this heat? It will not be enough, not nearly enough. Finally he kicks his leg down savagely once, and then twice before the satisfying roar of his powerful beasts rends the air with its fury. He calls out over the roar, barely audible over the savage noise. "That firefight was long and loud, they know we are hurting. Watch for the vultures."

There was a frown to cross Mercy's lips as she rests her hands on her hips, a stance of contemplation as much as any other emotion it might convey. Always easier for her to think these days when she had her weapon close at hand and certainly easier to keep on living these days.

Trust the scout to want to keep moving, but he wasn't entirely wrong. They needed more supplies and water most of all. The comment about them likely having set up at a water source or storage certainly made sense enough to her. Even so...

"The bike is loud," she calls, a point that makes itself rather clear when she has to raise her voice. "It'll draw nearly as much attention as any firefight, but we'll need it to look for this camp." There's a sigh from the fair gunslinger before she turns back, looking towards the tinkering gnome and the conjurer with his secret scales she'd never given any indication of knowing about. "But my guns aren't exactly silent either. We'll go ahead for a bit, see if Endre can track them back a ways. Maybe even find some water."

One hand lifting to the pendant at her neck, those gloved digits gift a gentle squeeze before she continues addressing the others. "Follow along or stay here and see what you can do about fortifying this place enough for us to get back on our feet. If Zim can strip parts down or get us some fuel from a wreck, we may just be able to move on with a little more range."

To the Serpent in disguise? She gestures to where their travel bags rest tucked in the corner. "If anyone's going to be able to make sure the water from here or there is safe to drink or any other supplies we have aren't contaminated? It's probably you."
Whatever the others decide, Mercy knew enough to know that there were three things she was good at in this world more than anything. This wasn't the time for music and dance, they'd healed all the wounds that could be treated. That just left the violence that would almost certainly be waiting in the direction of the bandit camp if they could find it.

Hand on her hat to ensure it remained in place, she reached up to try and haul herself onto the back of the bike if there was room. She sure as hell wasn't going to be able to keep up on foot!

Endre waits astride his bike as Mercy adds her last minute thoughts, carefully checking over the last of his straps and bikes gauges before he sets of properly. The last thing they need is for his bike to go down halfway back, forcing them to try and lug 80kg of water on top of their usual gear. Not impossible, but it would sure as shit make a bad day a lot worse.

"No matter what we do, we will be drawing attention too ourselves after a fight like that. At least with a bike we can move fast and relativly easily over rough terrain. Unless they have similarly capable vehicles we should be able to outrun anyone that is looking to make trouble for us, with a little luck anyway." He nods his head at her before once again running a hand down his right horn, perhaps a calming gesture after everything that has happened. "Besides like you said, if we end up having to shoot? Well noise isn't really going to matter then."

"At the very least it should let me continue to keep scouting for good scavenging opportunities and water sources if we can find enough fuel to keep me going. Hell with the right parts if we can reach 'civilization' at least we should be able to trade for enough to keep us going." He reaches back behind himself and helps Mercy sit herself properly behind him, unsure if she has ever been on a bike before. "Put your arms around my waist and hold on tight. If you feel me leaning try and go with me. Don't panic if we hit large bumps, or things will just get worse." Finally he kicks his foot down, putting the bike into first gear before taking off with a roar that quickly dulls before kicking up again as he works his way up through the gears. Time to see if these bastards left a rear guard, or if they even had any spare water to begin with at all.

S’Hraa sat silently, considering his limited options. He could go with the others, but that did not sound right. Zim will be all alone and vulnerable. He has not even moved from his spot yet, likely still saddened by the loss. His only other option, staying, means he needs to fortify the location in case some other roving band of raiders near. Though he doubts the four of them could last against another onslaught like the last one. No, the best option would be to hide. Can’t get hit if you can’t be seen right? And who better suited for hiding than himself?

Magic is out the window though, to hide the camp will require materials he does not have, not to mention hiding the magical energy is a much harder task. An illusion big enough for the camp will light up like a Christmas tree to anyone with the know how of spotting it. More mundane methods would be simpler and better. Covering footsteps left in the ground, hiding their location, and disguising other signs of life is a skill he has had plenty of time and opportunity to develop. After a few hours of work, one would hardly think anybody was around. As long as the group was careful to keep hidden it seems unlikely anyone would find them, they would have to actively search their particular building out of the dozens of others which did not seem likely. S’Hraa would have to remember to tell the other two when they get back to keep their tracks hidden and especially the bike.

The last thing to do is what Mercy suggested. She reasoned right when she thought he was suited for determining if any resources were safe to consume. His excellent sense of smell can let him determine if anything is poisonous, started to rot, or anything else that can determine the safety of something as far as smelling something can go. Fortunately, the food is safe enough, even if he can’t eat it as his stomach can normally handle only something fresh and only recently killed. The water, what little they have, will be fine after boiling it to remove some of the diluted contaminants out. Hopefully what the others bring when they come back will prove safe enough as well.

One last look back was spared to S'Hraa from the angelic gunslinger, her hand still trying to force her hat to sit as firmly on her head as she could make it so it wouldn't be removed by the speak of travel.

"If you get into trouble, send up a flare even if it's just an illusion. We'll come back as fast as Endre can manage without killing us!"
Despite the grimness of the thought, she actually flashes the alchemist and the silent Zim a grin before she turns her attention back to holding on for dear life. She'd ridden in vehicles since travelling with others, but the bike? She'd stayed away from that till now. Hell, she used to travel on foot when she wandered on her own!

His advice given is certainly taken and she grips onto the larger figure of the Tiefling as she speaks over the rumbling of the engine. "Just let me know if you're going to do something crazy. I need at least one hand to shoot, but I'll need both not to get thrown off this...thing."

The woman could engage a dozen bandits in a gunfight without blinking, but riding on the back of the motorbike? That was far more nerve-wracking!