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    1. ScoundrelQueen 8 yrs ago

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I'm not a girl. I'm a unicorn.

To clarity: Only children and hopeless dreamers believe in me, and I'm probably fake.

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All this talk of corpses being raided set a gross, clammy feeling brewing in Orion's gut. Would they try to tear him apart, too? Cut him open while he was still bleeding and search his insides for precious metals to trade? Or eat him? He had heard of Ashlanders eating people. On the plus side, the only person who probably cared was Mitch, and she wouldn't see.

Though he could see the tabloid title: Where are they now? Washed-up Steelhunter becomes the hunted! Presumably, there would be a drone picture of him roasting over a fire. Maybe with an apple photo-editied into his mouth.

He shook the thought off and kept walking, giving a vague wave of thanks to the shifter apparently named Rogue Nightmare.
"Thank you for the offer, but nobody is dying here, and I'm not going with anyone that cannot manage to carry me back to-" Before he could finish the sentence, the sound of someone making an honest effort to do just that sounded behind him.

He turned to face the night, and instinctively threw out his forearm to deflect her before she could make contact with him head-on. She felt warm to the touch- Not dangerously so, but enough that he took a step back. The polyester fabric of his shirt melted where she made contact, sticking to his arm like a candy wrapper on the bottom of the frying pan.

If this was her warning shot, she had a serious heat-inducing gift.

"Back down, soldier. I don't want to kill a brave woman of the Crown."
Vit will be able to post tomorrow on that scene. She's at a Larp for her birthday weekend, right now.


If two was company and three was a crowd, Orion thought, then four was the straggling gaggle that formed after the end of a decent party, working as a unit to try and extend it into a less decent one: Unpleasant, uncomfortable, and best to avoid at all costs.

This new man was threatening them, or proposing a business agreement.

Or both, perhaps, given that they were in the middle of the Ash. He glanced back toward the mercenary pitching his offer; at the ensemble he wore, his tone, and his manner of carrying himself. It was confident, and not totally unlike the flashy confidence that worked in Erubescan rings.

The aesthetic of the cool, as it were.

He returned his focus to the Knight, looking her in the eye, unflinching even as she closed the gap. His smile had an apologetic tilt to it. Like he knew what he was about to force her into.

"Nobody is killing anyone, as far as I'm concerned," he said, speaking loudly enough for all three of his audience members to hear. "I've got nothing on me worth killing over, save a difference of opinion with you, Ma'am. The only crimes me and mine are guilty of are acts performed under the direction of your Crown. So if that's all, I'll be on my way." He moved to sidestep past her, and then began walking.

His pace was not rushed, but there was little that stood a decent chance of pushing back 3500 pounds of metal alloy with a purpose. Except maybe teleporters. Or shielders. Heavy explosive gifts. A lot of things, when Orion paused too long to think about it, and a lot more than a lot when he stopped to ponder those.

His own spine, too, if he had a spasm.

But confidence. Half the fight is in the flare. Like a snake with 'fuck off' coloring down its back.

He rolled his shoulders so that his back cracked with a muffled metallic creak, like the bones of a skyscraper shifting in high winds. "I'd save the ammo, though. I hear it goes for more than gold out here."

Three Miles West of Ash Outpost Designation 227


Orion flinched at the sudden mental contact, involuntarily starting to filter his own thoughts before he had even fully processed what was being conveyed. The contact was a stupid mistake on his part; a less well-intentioned gifted could have taken advantage of Orion in an instant.

"I apologize for my assumption, brother," Orion replied, reciprocating the shifter's title. He eyed the wound with apprehension, taking in the torn flesh that puckered around the arrow's shaft. It would hurt to pull free,
to be certain, and Orion did not know this man well enough to gauge a response. "And I apologize that I'm not much of a doctor, either, but..."

Before he could reach for the arrow, the booming voice of a Knight echoed through the ruins. Her thick accent reverberated against the concrete and through the dry air, and it took Orion almost two of his allotted five seconds to pick out exactly where his would-be attacker stood. By the time he had spotted her, his new ally had already taken the lead in placing himself in the line of fire.

"I'll be too heavy," Orion said, not bothering to wonder his he was making clear sense while his mind raced at the implications of this new development. The silvery black metal finish of his skin glinted in the high morning sun,
but he could not bank on it to protect him without knowing her gift. And if she was alone, it must have been something rough.

Regardless, he had never been much for running.

"I'll be fine. Go, now." Without warning, Orion reached forward and tugged the arrow forward out of the shifter's wing in one firm motion.

"I've done no treason," he called up the rise. His posture was calm as he took a few steps toward her, and his hands were raised, palms up. He had no weapons to show, but his body language was confident. "And I harbor no ill-will for the brave men and women of the Knight force. I just want to be left in peace. So please, leave us?"
I'm going to assume that if neither faction has bothered trying to take it or bomb it, it's probably got not more than a few hundred transient occupants. Probably limited electricity, and if there is I would guess its from solar that a technopath got working, and in that case very likely incredibly expensive to trade for. I imagine most gifted bold enough to come to a place like this are either very rough, desperate, or at least have been in the Ash long enough to know how to watch their own backs. A lot of stuff is broken or rusted, and if there is running water, again, I imagine whoever's claimed the turf it can be gotten from is charging a heavy fee.

My guess is that if you don't want to trade goods or services, you wouldn't want to be there.

The Ash is a very rough place to live, and "settlement" is a bit of a loose term.

Three Miles West of Ash Outpost Designation 227


It had only taken half an hour to emerge from the treeline and into the merciless brightness of open Ashland. Orion raised a hand to block the light from his eyes and squinted at the sprawling vastness before him. On the horizon to the far left, he could make out the general direction of Erubescan settled territory, marked by a halo of blueness where the air above had been purified. It must have been at least thirty miles away, but he could still imagine the rough outline of Citadel towers and spires scratching against the sky.

Directly to the West, and far closer, the ruins of a town reared up to break the monotonous grey-green flatland. From what Mitch had told him of drone feeds and security practices, outcroppings like this were the sorts of places Ashrats like to congregate. Some lived there, if they were brave, but most nomads just passed through to trade or fuck. Perhaps sometimes both.

The thought of bounty hunters crossed his mind as well, but he shook it off. Whether or not his name and face were already plastered in the notices did not matter. Options were limited.

He took off at a quick pace, shoulder slumped and eyes scanning like a prey animal caught in the open.

Which he may as well have been.

A mile out from the town, scattered, short buildings loomed up alongside him, and Orion began moving by sticking to their shadows and pressing his body against their dusty walls.

He froze at the sound of commotion nearby: The whinny-shriek of a horse, then a crash, and the screams of a man. Orion’s thumb grazed over the surface of a polished tungsten carbide ring on his left hand, and the dark metallic finish spread over his skin like fire spreading over an oil spill.

The sound of hoofsteps clipped nearer, and Orion braced as he anticipated the rider. Would it be a large man? Or woman? Or someone with a gift that could melt flesh?

Orion had never killed anyone, and the thought of a fight to the death turned his stomach. Perhaps they would have no gift that could pierce him, and he could walk along unharmed, or...

The thing rounded the corner Orion was sheltering behind, massive and winged and colored like an Erubescan showbeast. It reminded him a bit of the winged horses that smaller, lighter prize fighters sometimes specialized in riding.

He kept his voice low, and clicked his tongue. ”Hey, hey,” he said softly, glancing about half to avoid eye contact and half to check for signs of a rider. Perhaps he had been the unlucky fellow who screamed but moments before. Orion held out one hand, palm flat, for the creature to sniff. His eyes trailed over the animal’s body, stopping to linger at the injured wing. ”Woah, boy. Woah. Where’s your person, boy?” he asked, though he did not expect any response to come.

A horse could be useful, if not another mouth to feed. Whoever had shot him was close, but Orion had little fear of anyone using arrows.

At the very least, he could potentially trade the animal for provisions.
They had been in the bad-smells-no-sun-damp-air place for three days, and it was a bad place. Things had died here, or had died and been left here. And maybe they would, too. It made Apple chittery to consider; that his Bad-Eyes-Good-Pets Friend had taken him all to a die-place with her mate. There was no water to be found, even though the sleep-nests and walls were sweaty. And there was not much else to the place: Just four walls and two soggy nests and a little room to skitter and hover and sniff about in. The floor was too hard to dig.

Big-Friend (Pets-Friend's mate,) had found the hole they crawled down. He picked it open like a scab on the ground, and there was a climb-thing, and Big-Friend had put Bad-Eyes on his back and said "Apple come," and then they had gone down and not come out again since. Whatever was outside, Bad-Eyes-Good-Pets smelled scared of it, and Big-Friend smelled scared, too.

But mostly everything just smelled like droppings, thanks to the corner with the little bucket for everyone to do their business in. Bad-Eyes-Good-Pets said it was a "BadApple!" thing to drink from, even though the water-holders they had brought were almost empty.

Apple did not like it here, and he was tired and hot. His furry-fizzed body flopped to one side at the feet of Pets-Friend, and let his frondy antennae droop over his eyes. He did not know why his friends had left the cool-nest, soft-sounds, good-food place they had been in before, but he was a good Apple. And good Apples did not question these things.

----

"You ever wonder what he's thinking?" Orion asked, strapping on his left boot. His right one was already on; an assertion of the decision he had already made. There was a false levity in his tone, somewhere between "I'm not scared," and "I don't like this plan either, but it's a bit late to tell me you're dumping me over it."

Mitch did not reply at first, staring ahead into the white-grey blur before her. Her feet dangled off the edge of the molded mattress and she folded her arms. "Probably, 'I'm going to leave my partner to die in a shit-reeking, abandoned human war bunker while I tromp about getting myself killed trying to barter with Ashrats for MREs. But I'm gonna dart around the elephant in the room to talk about her pet roach.'" She paused, and turned to shoot him a glare that leveled remarkably close to his face. "Or were you talking about Apple?"

One set of Apple's eyes opened at the sound of his name, but closed again as soon as he realized nobody was paying him adequate attention.

Orion yanked on his boot laces. "Listen, Leila--"

"Don't you 'Leila,' me-"

"-- We're out of food. We're out of water. And I don't hear a better plan."

"I should come," she snapped. He answered first with the thud of his rubber soles hitting the floor, and then with the zrrrrirp of his backpack zipping shut. "I don't care if it's dangerous, Orion. I don't care. I'm not going to just let you go out there and- and... What if you get killed? How will I know, or will I just- just-" Mitch was cut short by the touch of a calloused hand cupping the side of her face.

She pulled back. "I didn't risk my life just so you could go die." Her voice was soft, then. Like all of the edge she had mustered for her brief protest had finally crumbled under the weight of the past week.

Orion ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek, his thumb pausing to wipe away a single tear doing its damnedest to clean a streak through the caked on Ash. "I'm gonna be okay, Mitch. I can fight hard if I don't have to look out for you, too. And Apple's not exactly a pro at moving quietly, so..."

She sniffled, and turned her face away. "I'm not a damsel."

"Nah, you're the prince. You saved me from the tower and everything. But-" He crouched in front of her, and put one hand on her knee. "I gotta do this. I can't get shot, and you can. And I'll be back before sundown, maybe with a better place we can move to, yeah?"

Mitch nodded. Orion kissed her knee before standing. "You be good, Apple. You look out for each other for a minute, yeah? And I'll be back before you can even worry."

"Be safe."

Orion was climbing the ladder, his muscled weight causing the tired bars to creak. "I'm always safe."

"I love you, Mr. Lazos."

The weight of the bunker hatch swung open. The rush of fresh air poured in like a flood, and both Mitch and Apple took a deep breath below. Orion's nostrils flared and he closed his eyes against the glare of daylight. "I love you too, Mrs... Mrs. Ingram-Lazos-to-be. And that's a promise."

The door swung shut, then, and the earth above was so thick that Mitch could not so much as hear him walk away toward the ruins in the distance. The hand she clapped over her mouth to muffle her sobs, too, was completely unnecessary.

Apple, being a good Apple, flutter-hopped up into her lap.




May add the gunner siblings and Harrington when Liberty gets rolling, or a Mari and her litter later. But here should be good for now (:






<Snipped quote by ScoundrelQueen>

I love you be my best friend

Welcome! :)


I love you too wow so pure I love friends

I'm not exactly new to the setting, as I was here for the Long Run that took place Many Moons Ago, but I'm looking to throw in some people I've played before and some I haven't. I'll probably be moving some folks on over in a mass character-dump in about a hot minute.
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