I'm a simple man. I see dragons, I join.
RedDusk Member
Likes cheese and slacking
STATUS: Dreams are just a reality away from memories. 9 yrs ago
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Dreams are just a reality away from memories.
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I see you like stalking too eh? Just know that while you're reading this, I'm reading all your posts from 5 months ago and silently judging your taste. Ha Ha. Or not.
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9 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
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Combat-centered High-Fantasy w/Modern elements Stat-Supplemented Roleplay
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9 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
Is this still a thing? Cause it sounds awesome and I want in >:]
I'm still around, just lurking, wait for Darcs' post on Rose and our collab.
I'm in a collab with Darcs as well, and also waiting got the CS on Rose. No need to worry, I haven't abbadon ship yet.
I went home and opened my computer, only to find myself staring at picture of bugs. Dust is already a bad place my friend, why are you doing this?
Hello potential partners.
Oh okay let’s do this. First thing, you’d probably want to read this.
At the moment, I want to use this character I create for a dead RP. I put the CS right here, so if you’re interested drop me a PM. I won’t be checking this thread until later.
Oh okay let’s do this. First thing, you’d probably want to read this.
At the moment, I want to use this character I create for a dead RP. I put the CS right here, so if you’re interested drop me a PM. I won’t be checking this thread until later.
@DarcsWell now, he didn't. Not really, when he was actively trying to save her. That's a pretty good idea.
Welp, now Joe had done it and got the Moscow Echo after their collective asses. Krieg would not be pleased.
Got a post up. Not wall-of-text worthy and the story might seem a little bit confusing, but I hope it's okay.
He was at the wheel of the semi-truck again, despite the fact that it wasn’t his turn to drive. He didn’t mind though. Raiders had blasted a hole in the windshield when they were passing through Tas, and since it hadn’t been repaired, he would have an excuse to keep his glasses on for the whole time without seeming weird or suspicious. Besides, the occupant of the passenger seat was quiet. Well, it wasn’t like he could speak, or do anything anymore. Mostly because he was dead. It happened yesterday, after a trap went off and launched steel rods at them. He ducked just in time, but his co-driver wasn’t so fortunate. So now the man was just there rotting with a steel rod in his chest. They did try to get him out, but the door on that side was stuck after the explosion, and the steel rod actually went all the way through the seat.
In the end, he got the truck all to himself. No one wanted to drive sitting next to a corpse, apparently. Probably because of the stench. Ron wasn’t good company anyway, not even when he was alive. Guy always asked too many questions.
As he readjusted his scarf to cover the lower half of his face, silhouettes of broken and vines-covered buildings came into view amiss the endless sand. Fairbury. So they had arrived at last. The town itself was a peaceful place, not too many troubles to deal with. It was getting pass the mutated flora and fauna in the ruins that worried him. Joe, his current employer and the owner of this caravan, was, for the lack of better word, a cheap prick. He didn’t hire an armed escort, like the sensible folks did, but instead settled for a gang of thugs hired back in Tas. There were actually 14 of them in total, but after yesterday bandit raid, eight had gone to meet their maker, along with Ron the driver. The men Joe hired was half bad in a fight, but they were far too undisciplined. They reminded him of the slavers his father used to work with, the ones Alrik always told him to keep an eye on. Their loyalty was just as fickle as their whims, impossible to guarantee no matter how many bullets you throw, or shoot, their way.
But of course, Joe hired him to be a body guard, not a counsellor. If the man wanted his opinion, he would have asked for it.
The jeep ahead of him pulled to halt just before they reached the ruins. Noticing his cue, he stopped the truck as well, but remained behind the wheel. A short, stocky man in his late thirties stepped out, his emerald eyes narrowed underneath the messy bang of his red hair. He had a walkie-talkie sort-of device in his hand, but as he lifted it to his ear, he waved at the truck driver.
“Krieg!! Come ‘ere for a bit.”
Krieg instinctively touched the glasses resting on his nose bridge, before exiting the truck through the broken windshield. Yes, for some reason, Ron had welded the door on this side shut. No wonder no one liked that guy. As he came closer, Krieg could here bits of Joe’s conversation with whomever on the other side.
“Yeah…Yeah…We got the bullets…Just be there on time…Alright.”- The red head muttered, his shaggy brows knitted together. As he noticed Krieg standing in front of him, Joe quickly ended his conversation and tossed the device to the younger man. –“Fucking blood suckers. I swear, they are ruining me.”
As Joe began his rambling, he turned and started walking back to the reinforced Jeep. Krieg fell into steps beside his employer, looming over the much shorter man’s shoulder.
“I thought you weren’t going to hire an escort?”
“Of fucking course. Do I look like I have anything left to spare? You and those meatheads used half of my bullet stash yesterday fighting the raiders, and what happened? They burnt two bikes and killed Ron. Sure, one less mouth to feed, but you have no idea how hard it is to find a competent driver around these parts.”-Rage was rolling off of the redhead in waves, his voice strained as he tried to keep from shouting.
Like usual, Krieg didn’t give any indication that he was listening, since he wasn’t. He simply leant against the jeep, eyes downcast and face blank, not that Joe could tell, with the sunglasses hiding his eyes and all. Of course, Joe paid him no mind and kept on talking about something along the line of ‘debt’ and ‘selling organs’. It was then a blond joined them, his bright hair covered up with a green beret. The man didn’t look a day over thirty, but he had the hardened eyes of a killer, something in common with many other residents of this harsh land.
“Heya boss.”-The newcomer smiled, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips.-“Krieg.”
“What is it now, Dan?”-Joe narrowed his eyes. The man really, really hated it when people interrupted his rage speeches. –“Ran out of fuel for those bikes of yours?”
“Yeah, that…”-The smile widened into a grin, all teeth and ill humor.-“And just wondering when our escort will arrive. No way me and my boys will trudge through Fairbury ruins like this.”
Joe did realize the shift in the mercenary’s attitude, but maybe he was too mad, or too dumb, to care. He grabbed Dan’s collar in a sudden movement, pulling the much taller man’s face down to the same level as his.
“Now listen up you shithead, if you think you can back out after taking most of your payment and then some…”-As the redhead began, Dan reached for his gun.
But Krieg was faster.
He grabbed Dan’s hand before it touched the gun, and with his gauntleted left fist, delivered a crushing blow to the mercenary’s head. Dan crumpled into a heap on the ground, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Krieg heard the shouting from the distance, and he only had enough time to duck before bullets began whizzing through the air.
Dan’s men weren’t too happy with how things turn out, apparently.
Krieg ended up crouching next to the jeep, halberd in hand, while Joe cussed loudly and returned fire with Dan’s pistol. Of all the time he left his gun in the car, the mercenaries had to choose now to attack? Krieg wasn’t any good with a gun, sure, but he would still feel safer with one right now. Only an idiot brought knife to a gunfight. Or in his case, halberd and machete.
Still, he had one more weapon left. Not something he would’ve wanted to use, but it seemed he didn’t have a choice now. Two against five, with only one pistol on his side? The odds just weren’t in his favor.
Time to tip the scale.
Heat flared from his fingertips as he took a deep breath. Besides him, Dan had begun to wake up, groaning as he pushed himself up from the ground. Krieg didn’t give him the chance. He grabbed the mercenary by his collar and slammed the man against the jeep, rendering him unconscious again after a wet crunch.
“Krieg!!”-Joe almost roared as he reached for another clip of ammo.-“They are boxing us in.”
Krieg grabbed his halberd and took a quick glance over the hood of the vehicle where they were taking shelter. He barely had enough time to duck as bullets bounce off the metal surface. They were closer than he had originally thought.
Fools.
Somewhere to his left, combat boots hit the rough sand. He counted the steps. One, two, three, then silence. He charged.
The first man came into view was holding a pistol in his right hand, but he hesitated. Krieg swept his halberd upward, slicing into his gun hand. Blood spurted, and the mercenary dropped his weapon, but behind him, his comrade raised his. Krieg lunged, his shoulder collided with the wounded man’s chest just moments before the gun went off. Pain bloomed in his left shoulder, but wounded mercenary soaked up most of the bullets. With a hard shove, the wounded man went reeling right into his friend. Before the gunman could recover, Krieg slashed his unprotected side with a swift movement. Both men collapsed, their blood had barely soaked the sand when Krieg sprinted into cover behind the semi-truck parked nearby.
His shoulder ached, and when he touched it, his fingers came back warm and bloody. He flexed his arm experimentally and it felt fine though, so the bullets must have just grazed him. Beginers’ luck, Johann would have said. He could use more of those. Wiping the blood on his trousers, Krieg readied himself for the next attack. One of the mercenaries had gone down on the other side, blood was pooling around him. Joe’s kill. The redhead was a better shoot than he let on. However, the remaining three still stayed in cover behind their bikes, far out his reach. He couldn’t just charge out there, their guns would turn him into Swiss cheese in a blink.
He needed a gun. Maybe he wasn’t the best shot out there, but wasn’t suppressive fire a thing?
A pistol was lying nearby, still partially in the grip of a dead man. He reached out with his halberd, with a flick, pulled it closer. It was an old glock 43, with five bullets left. Not what he would’ve wanted, but it would do.
But then the shooting suddenly stopped.
Krieg narrowed his eyes. He glanced at Joe. The man had this stunned look on his face, which slowly twisted into one of absolute, scorching rage. Somehow, he even looked angrier than normal, and that was saying something.
Sneaking a look at where the rest of their turn coat mercenaries were taking cover, he saw why. They had a girl at gunpoint, one guy was standing right behind her, his meaty arm around her neck. He recognized her, the red hair and emerald eyes. A carbon copy of Joe.
What is his daughter doing over there?
Last he saw her, she was in the back of the truck, doing whatever Joe told her to. He brought her along just to keep track of all the goods they had back there, after all. She was supposed to stay put during a firefight, since the truck was reinforced with an absurd number of steel plates.
Unless…
Krieg looked down at the bodies lying just a few feet away from him. Right, distraction.
He frowned, cursing his own incompetent. She wasn’t his priority, but still, he had ignored the possibilities that she might be used as leverage against Joe. Krieg released a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, his white knuckle grip on the halberd loosened. No matter now. Hesitation would only contribute to his death, and right now, he didn’t feel like dying. Gently placing his halberd down, he gingerly held the pistol with both hands, one finger on the trigger.
“I will fucking blow her brain ou-“
But Joe beat him to it. The man rose out of his cover and emptied the clip at the general direction of the mercenaries, ending his statement prematurely. Krieg heard yelps of pain and the unmistakable sound of soft bodies hitting the sand.
“Joe?”-He stood up slowly when the older man didn’t crouch back into cover. Was it over? He got all of them just like that? The redhead didn’t answer. He didn’t even move. Something was wrong. Krieg rose from his cover and jogged toward the bikes, where the ground was littered with bodies. One of them was Joe’s daughter.
Oh.
He crouched next to the young woman, examining her body. She was alive. Well, somewhat. There was a bullet in her guts, and from the look of it, she would bleed to death in a few minutes. Instinctively, he pressed a hand against the wound in an effort to stop the bleeding. Blood seeped between his fingers, but that got him thinking. Why was she shot in the stomach, while he had clearly seen the mercenary put a gun to her temper?
“Did you sh-“-He cranked his neck to look at Joe, who was now standing right behind him.
“Yes.”- Came the curt answer.
Krieg said nothing more. He turned back to the wounded woman, his eyes searching for something to stem the bleeding.
“Leave us.”- Joe said again, his voice barely a whisper-“And give me the gun.”
Krieg tossed the gun at his feet, then stood up to leave. Even with his back turned to the scene, he still couldn’t help grimacing when the crack of gun cut through the air. It shouldn’t, but in the end, her death bothered him. He didn’t even know her name. He did not ask then, as he didn’t care to. After all, this was just going to be another job for him. A favor, to be exact. He only had time to care about the well-being of his client, namely Joe, and no one else. It was the same thing he had done so many times before. Maybe because this time, her death wasn’t necessary. He knew he could’ve resolved that situation. They could’ve feigned submission, and once they got closer, he could turn on his Immortal power and roast anyone within range.
But it was Joe’s choice. Not his. It shouldn’t bother him. But it did anyway.
A few minutes later, Joe joined him inside their second jeep, since the first one was riddled with bullet holes and no longer had any functioning tires. He gave Krieg the key, caked thick in blood and gore, and told him to drive. He did just that, but two minutes into the journey, he couldn’t help speaking up.
“But why?”-His tone came out more accusing than he would’ve liked. However, Joe didn’t seem to notice, or care, for that matter. He just had this tired, resigned look on his face as he searched through the glove compartment.
“We killed half of them already. They would shoot me the second I poke my head up.”-He paused, then added-“For what it’s worth, I didn’t mean to shoot her. But I had to. I can’t die. There are people depending on me back home.”
But you could’ve at least waited a few minutes…
Krieg didn’t voice his thought, but instead kept his eyes on the road. With that blank look in his eyes, Joe was far more scarier than when he was seething with rage –“Then why did you leave the truck? The goods inside can feed you for months.”
“It isn’t enough. Honestly, this trip was just a farce, to throw the hounds off my trail. I’m only looking to sell this.”-Joe took out a small velvet box, something far out of place inside a middle-class travelling merchant’s car.-“Just one, and everything will be taken care of.”
Inside was a shiny, beautiful, genuine Wolfwater watch.
This thing is going to get him killed.
“What now, then?”
“Had a client in Fairbury, but since that’s impossible now, the Hedons is our best bet.”
“They are more likely to shoot you and take it.”
“Then do your fucking job, Krieg.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________
How Joe managed to get his paws on a Wolfwater watch, Krieg wouldn’t know. Honestly, he didn’t want to. Probably killed some rich dude and stole it? He wouldn’t put it above Joe. Despite identifying as a merchant, the man had more in common with a wasteland raider.
But of course, Krieg never abandoned a job. He couldn't, even if sometimes he wanted to.
In the end, he got the truck all to himself. No one wanted to drive sitting next to a corpse, apparently. Probably because of the stench. Ron wasn’t good company anyway, not even when he was alive. Guy always asked too many questions.
As he readjusted his scarf to cover the lower half of his face, silhouettes of broken and vines-covered buildings came into view amiss the endless sand. Fairbury. So they had arrived at last. The town itself was a peaceful place, not too many troubles to deal with. It was getting pass the mutated flora and fauna in the ruins that worried him. Joe, his current employer and the owner of this caravan, was, for the lack of better word, a cheap prick. He didn’t hire an armed escort, like the sensible folks did, but instead settled for a gang of thugs hired back in Tas. There were actually 14 of them in total, but after yesterday bandit raid, eight had gone to meet their maker, along with Ron the driver. The men Joe hired was half bad in a fight, but they were far too undisciplined. They reminded him of the slavers his father used to work with, the ones Alrik always told him to keep an eye on. Their loyalty was just as fickle as their whims, impossible to guarantee no matter how many bullets you throw, or shoot, their way.
But of course, Joe hired him to be a body guard, not a counsellor. If the man wanted his opinion, he would have asked for it.
The jeep ahead of him pulled to halt just before they reached the ruins. Noticing his cue, he stopped the truck as well, but remained behind the wheel. A short, stocky man in his late thirties stepped out, his emerald eyes narrowed underneath the messy bang of his red hair. He had a walkie-talkie sort-of device in his hand, but as he lifted it to his ear, he waved at the truck driver.
“Krieg!! Come ‘ere for a bit.”
Krieg instinctively touched the glasses resting on his nose bridge, before exiting the truck through the broken windshield. Yes, for some reason, Ron had welded the door on this side shut. No wonder no one liked that guy. As he came closer, Krieg could here bits of Joe’s conversation with whomever on the other side.
“Yeah…Yeah…We got the bullets…Just be there on time…Alright.”- The red head muttered, his shaggy brows knitted together. As he noticed Krieg standing in front of him, Joe quickly ended his conversation and tossed the device to the younger man. –“Fucking blood suckers. I swear, they are ruining me.”
As Joe began his rambling, he turned and started walking back to the reinforced Jeep. Krieg fell into steps beside his employer, looming over the much shorter man’s shoulder.
“I thought you weren’t going to hire an escort?”
“Of fucking course. Do I look like I have anything left to spare? You and those meatheads used half of my bullet stash yesterday fighting the raiders, and what happened? They burnt two bikes and killed Ron. Sure, one less mouth to feed, but you have no idea how hard it is to find a competent driver around these parts.”-Rage was rolling off of the redhead in waves, his voice strained as he tried to keep from shouting.
Like usual, Krieg didn’t give any indication that he was listening, since he wasn’t. He simply leant against the jeep, eyes downcast and face blank, not that Joe could tell, with the sunglasses hiding his eyes and all. Of course, Joe paid him no mind and kept on talking about something along the line of ‘debt’ and ‘selling organs’. It was then a blond joined them, his bright hair covered up with a green beret. The man didn’t look a day over thirty, but he had the hardened eyes of a killer, something in common with many other residents of this harsh land.
“Heya boss.”-The newcomer smiled, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips.-“Krieg.”
“What is it now, Dan?”-Joe narrowed his eyes. The man really, really hated it when people interrupted his rage speeches. –“Ran out of fuel for those bikes of yours?”
“Yeah, that…”-The smile widened into a grin, all teeth and ill humor.-“And just wondering when our escort will arrive. No way me and my boys will trudge through Fairbury ruins like this.”
Joe did realize the shift in the mercenary’s attitude, but maybe he was too mad, or too dumb, to care. He grabbed Dan’s collar in a sudden movement, pulling the much taller man’s face down to the same level as his.
“Now listen up you shithead, if you think you can back out after taking most of your payment and then some…”-As the redhead began, Dan reached for his gun.
But Krieg was faster.
He grabbed Dan’s hand before it touched the gun, and with his gauntleted left fist, delivered a crushing blow to the mercenary’s head. Dan crumpled into a heap on the ground, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Krieg heard the shouting from the distance, and he only had enough time to duck before bullets began whizzing through the air.
Dan’s men weren’t too happy with how things turn out, apparently.
Krieg ended up crouching next to the jeep, halberd in hand, while Joe cussed loudly and returned fire with Dan’s pistol. Of all the time he left his gun in the car, the mercenaries had to choose now to attack? Krieg wasn’t any good with a gun, sure, but he would still feel safer with one right now. Only an idiot brought knife to a gunfight. Or in his case, halberd and machete.
Still, he had one more weapon left. Not something he would’ve wanted to use, but it seemed he didn’t have a choice now. Two against five, with only one pistol on his side? The odds just weren’t in his favor.
Time to tip the scale.
Heat flared from his fingertips as he took a deep breath. Besides him, Dan had begun to wake up, groaning as he pushed himself up from the ground. Krieg didn’t give him the chance. He grabbed the mercenary by his collar and slammed the man against the jeep, rendering him unconscious again after a wet crunch.
“Krieg!!”-Joe almost roared as he reached for another clip of ammo.-“They are boxing us in.”
Krieg grabbed his halberd and took a quick glance over the hood of the vehicle where they were taking shelter. He barely had enough time to duck as bullets bounce off the metal surface. They were closer than he had originally thought.
Fools.
Somewhere to his left, combat boots hit the rough sand. He counted the steps. One, two, three, then silence. He charged.
The first man came into view was holding a pistol in his right hand, but he hesitated. Krieg swept his halberd upward, slicing into his gun hand. Blood spurted, and the mercenary dropped his weapon, but behind him, his comrade raised his. Krieg lunged, his shoulder collided with the wounded man’s chest just moments before the gun went off. Pain bloomed in his left shoulder, but wounded mercenary soaked up most of the bullets. With a hard shove, the wounded man went reeling right into his friend. Before the gunman could recover, Krieg slashed his unprotected side with a swift movement. Both men collapsed, their blood had barely soaked the sand when Krieg sprinted into cover behind the semi-truck parked nearby.
His shoulder ached, and when he touched it, his fingers came back warm and bloody. He flexed his arm experimentally and it felt fine though, so the bullets must have just grazed him. Beginers’ luck, Johann would have said. He could use more of those. Wiping the blood on his trousers, Krieg readied himself for the next attack. One of the mercenaries had gone down on the other side, blood was pooling around him. Joe’s kill. The redhead was a better shoot than he let on. However, the remaining three still stayed in cover behind their bikes, far out his reach. He couldn’t just charge out there, their guns would turn him into Swiss cheese in a blink.
He needed a gun. Maybe he wasn’t the best shot out there, but wasn’t suppressive fire a thing?
A pistol was lying nearby, still partially in the grip of a dead man. He reached out with his halberd, with a flick, pulled it closer. It was an old glock 43, with five bullets left. Not what he would’ve wanted, but it would do.
But then the shooting suddenly stopped.
Krieg narrowed his eyes. He glanced at Joe. The man had this stunned look on his face, which slowly twisted into one of absolute, scorching rage. Somehow, he even looked angrier than normal, and that was saying something.
Sneaking a look at where the rest of their turn coat mercenaries were taking cover, he saw why. They had a girl at gunpoint, one guy was standing right behind her, his meaty arm around her neck. He recognized her, the red hair and emerald eyes. A carbon copy of Joe.
What is his daughter doing over there?
Last he saw her, she was in the back of the truck, doing whatever Joe told her to. He brought her along just to keep track of all the goods they had back there, after all. She was supposed to stay put during a firefight, since the truck was reinforced with an absurd number of steel plates.
Unless…
Krieg looked down at the bodies lying just a few feet away from him. Right, distraction.
He frowned, cursing his own incompetent. She wasn’t his priority, but still, he had ignored the possibilities that she might be used as leverage against Joe. Krieg released a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, his white knuckle grip on the halberd loosened. No matter now. Hesitation would only contribute to his death, and right now, he didn’t feel like dying. Gently placing his halberd down, he gingerly held the pistol with both hands, one finger on the trigger.
“I will fucking blow her brain ou-“
But Joe beat him to it. The man rose out of his cover and emptied the clip at the general direction of the mercenaries, ending his statement prematurely. Krieg heard yelps of pain and the unmistakable sound of soft bodies hitting the sand.
“Joe?”-He stood up slowly when the older man didn’t crouch back into cover. Was it over? He got all of them just like that? The redhead didn’t answer. He didn’t even move. Something was wrong. Krieg rose from his cover and jogged toward the bikes, where the ground was littered with bodies. One of them was Joe’s daughter.
Oh.
He crouched next to the young woman, examining her body. She was alive. Well, somewhat. There was a bullet in her guts, and from the look of it, she would bleed to death in a few minutes. Instinctively, he pressed a hand against the wound in an effort to stop the bleeding. Blood seeped between his fingers, but that got him thinking. Why was she shot in the stomach, while he had clearly seen the mercenary put a gun to her temper?
“Did you sh-“-He cranked his neck to look at Joe, who was now standing right behind him.
“Yes.”- Came the curt answer.
Krieg said nothing more. He turned back to the wounded woman, his eyes searching for something to stem the bleeding.
“Leave us.”- Joe said again, his voice barely a whisper-“And give me the gun.”
Krieg tossed the gun at his feet, then stood up to leave. Even with his back turned to the scene, he still couldn’t help grimacing when the crack of gun cut through the air. It shouldn’t, but in the end, her death bothered him. He didn’t even know her name. He did not ask then, as he didn’t care to. After all, this was just going to be another job for him. A favor, to be exact. He only had time to care about the well-being of his client, namely Joe, and no one else. It was the same thing he had done so many times before. Maybe because this time, her death wasn’t necessary. He knew he could’ve resolved that situation. They could’ve feigned submission, and once they got closer, he could turn on his Immortal power and roast anyone within range.
But it was Joe’s choice. Not his. It shouldn’t bother him. But it did anyway.
A few minutes later, Joe joined him inside their second jeep, since the first one was riddled with bullet holes and no longer had any functioning tires. He gave Krieg the key, caked thick in blood and gore, and told him to drive. He did just that, but two minutes into the journey, he couldn’t help speaking up.
“But why?”-His tone came out more accusing than he would’ve liked. However, Joe didn’t seem to notice, or care, for that matter. He just had this tired, resigned look on his face as he searched through the glove compartment.
“We killed half of them already. They would shoot me the second I poke my head up.”-He paused, then added-“For what it’s worth, I didn’t mean to shoot her. But I had to. I can’t die. There are people depending on me back home.”
But you could’ve at least waited a few minutes…
Krieg didn’t voice his thought, but instead kept his eyes on the road. With that blank look in his eyes, Joe was far more scarier than when he was seething with rage –“Then why did you leave the truck? The goods inside can feed you for months.”
“It isn’t enough. Honestly, this trip was just a farce, to throw the hounds off my trail. I’m only looking to sell this.”-Joe took out a small velvet box, something far out of place inside a middle-class travelling merchant’s car.-“Just one, and everything will be taken care of.”
Inside was a shiny, beautiful, genuine Wolfwater watch.
This thing is going to get him killed.
“What now, then?”
“Had a client in Fairbury, but since that’s impossible now, the Hedons is our best bet.”
“They are more likely to shoot you and take it.”
“Then do your fucking job, Krieg.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________
How Joe managed to get his paws on a Wolfwater watch, Krieg wouldn’t know. Honestly, he didn’t want to. Probably killed some rich dude and stole it? He wouldn’t put it above Joe. Despite identifying as a merchant, the man had more in common with a wasteland raider.
But of course, Krieg never abandoned a job. He couldn't, even if sometimes he wanted to.
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