Postapocalyptia | IC [Episode 2]

[Cerillium]

Mia was sullen as the twins drew near the table. Her capricious nature and mindless tongue had once again caused her brother grief. Max didn't lift his eyes and had adopted a stoic mood but she could feel his disappointment in her. Temir's sudden veering to sit beside the attractive Esma wasn't lost on either sibling. The tinkerer was reinforcing his orientation as far as the pair were concerned.

There wasn't an reason to exchange words between them. Mia paused and snapped her fingers as if recalling some important detail that had somehow been overlooked. "You know," said she in her normal, upbeat tone, "I really should pick up some water and check on the rig."

Max solemnly nodded; The gesture was recognition of his twin's choice to step away before she could cause any more harm. He felt his stress lessen as she walked away, although he was unable to look in Temir's direction. The rest of the vagabond crew arrived in drips and drabs, joined by Valdis and his armor, and Max spared him a fleeting glance. It was hard to suppress a tech-head's curiosity.

His thoughts turned to Willis' planning. He inwardly cringed. Who would they get to serve as a mortar team? The mentally ill woman and her brat? That's all they needed. The woman couldn't be depended upon if her personalities were out of her control. She could switch at the worst moment and all of them would be dead. Chances were high that she'd be appointed the task however. Nobody would willing take a child directly into the line of fire. And if the mother tried to, he'd put a round into her head and lock the innocent child in the rig to save her.

"Sir," he broke his silence and turned on his pouf to better see Willis, "I'm not certain we have enough experienced people for the ground team. We have three mechanics. Your scouts don't seem to be former military, and are better suited for guiding us between resting spots. I mean no disrespect towards Esma here, and I'm certain she'd be able to tell us what animals had passed recently, or how many men stand guard, but I doubt she'd know what to look for tactically. You're asking laymen to function as spec ops, and we don't have time to train a mortar team. Not if we hope to have an effective one. Hell, the raider's attack was a right cockup. It shouldn't have been."

Max cringed at the thought of the light truck doubling back unnecessarily instead of blazing a hole for the main rig but the gesture hopefully went unnoticed as the waiter served their beverages and brought their smoke.


Mia purchased water they didn't need. She added medical supplies to it, purchased a folding grocer cart to carry it all, and trudged through the complex. Her feet carried her to the main entrance where the hot sun was mercifully beginning to descend. Although she maintained her situational awareness, she was content to mentally flog herself for her behavior earlier. She didn't snap out of it until she entered the motor pool and found someone standing atop her rig. Her first instinct was to shoot the figure silhouetted by the fading sun. She paused and squinted, drawing a hand to her brow to better shield her eyes, and found herself staring at what she thought might be Zed or somebody wearing his pants.

The woman wasn't completely insensitive. He'd obviously come out here to be alone. Mia ran her hand over her aviator's cap and weighed the option of returning to the hookah bar to give Zed his space, but that meant facing Max before she was ready to, and damit it! this was her rig.

"Ahoy hoy up there," she kept her head down as she called out to him. Her rabid curiosity towards anything that might be potentially related to the mysterious Blacklight (Holy Grail of Technology!) was dampened by her desire to not fuck anything else up. "Look, I'm just dropping things off. I know you probably want to be alone and don't want company."

These last words tenderly tumbled from her lips as if she'd spoken directly to Max. Such was the dynamic of their relationship that, despite her bravada, she was loath to make a step without him supporting her. Subdued by the thought, she sighed. Her knuckles brushed against a value on the Bastard's side as fingers fumbled with keys to unlock a storage compartment.

"Hey, would you like a drink?"

She had no idea why she offered it. If he wanted one, he'd be in a bar.

[Cylarn]

-snip-

"I'm not asking them to be special operations, Max," Willis retorted. "It's not difficult to observe and live off the land if you know what you're doing. It's not difficult to aim a mortar if you know what you're doing. I'm aware that we don't have too many military-trained folks, and if we did, I'd be happy. One thing I learned working with the IPs is that nothing is impossible, even with finite resources. You can't always look at the pros and the cons; you have to think about how to do it. When you start looking at outcomes before you even start, you're fucking yourself."

Max was a good kid, and his argument was logical. However, they had some time before they got to APE, and most of the group had nothing to do until they got hit by raiders. Train them on the road, teach them, and give them at least a modicum of necessary skills to achieve the objective. The IPs did it all the time, working with irregular militias and such, and irregular militias did the same thing. Willis took another puff of his cigarette, and then took a sip of his tea, savoring the taste.

"You tell them what do you, you show them how to do it, and most of the time they'll do it," he said. "Hell, the hard part will be handling our resident noncombatant."

Willis darted his eyes over towards Shimmer for a quick second, and then back at Max.

"So, there was a female in the bar earlier," he said. "During the bar fight, she looked like she could handle herself. She moved like she had training, you get me? I'm gonna go track her down, see if we can't get another hand on board."

Willis stood to his feet and began to walk away from the table, before stopping near Valdis. He looked over at the man for a second.

"Oh, welcome aboard, Valdis," he said.

Willis then left the establishment, and found himself back on the streets of Ticaret. He dropped his cigarette and stamped it out, walking down the streets as he looked for that young woman from the bar. As he continued walking down the street, he passed a man who looked a bit frightened, as though someone had scared the shit out of him. Willis took note of that and continued onward, until he spotted a figure in expensive gear walking down the street. The streets were lit, allowing him to analyze the figure as he followed her. He smirked as he realized that the figure was a female.

"Female!" He called out, hoping she'd get his summons. "Looking for work?"

[Tiltjuice]

Food was all well and good.

Work, however, was work, and so Mathias crouched for a moment on the balcony's safety railing, judging the distance. Then he leapt, tumbling with the contours of the ground as he connected with it. The streets at this time were still packed, but he moved quickly and quietly through them. Long practice had him filtering out the actions of others as he passed through the neighborhood, which he knew well. Cigar bar...bakery...shawarma joint...

The establishments blurred together and he had just strode past a coffee house when he caught sight of Mister Guns. The naturopath halted in his tracks right before running into the man, and leaned slightly forward.

"I already have work."

[Chedastan]

Lucius passed on buying any sort of substance, as he didn't have the money to pay for them, nor felt like trying to barter his bullets away. Instead he just sat there and continue to uninterruptedly stroke the still unconscious punk woman's head, as he listened somewhat to what the other members of his group had to say, he wasn't paying too much attention, and he had a vague feeling they weren't paying much to him either. He did start to listen more closely at the parts that involved their current situation though, specifically from Willis and Max. Oh how he wanted to tell them all the things he did, or at least to Max, but he knew it would obviously cause too much confusion for him to tell them just plainly, and unless he could show them, they would think he is insane, and he's still deciding if it's better for himself to be underestimated as he is seemingly now. Internally frustrated, he opted himself to remain silent for at least bit more. Then Willis walked out, apparently to find someone to hire. As he left, the unconscious punk woman beside Lucius had finally awaken again. She sat up from his lap, looking understandably confuse at where she was at, and all the people she was with. She looked at Lucius with some disgust, and probably some other feeling, then she cross her arms and looked away at him for moment.

"I don't even want to know." She muttered to herself, then looked back at him. "Hey you, umm-"

"Lucius."

"Whatever, just tell me what the hell is going on? ...It's Nicole by the way."

Lucius remembered that they needed more people, due to the losses taken during the ambush. He figured he may as well ask her if she wanted to join, if anything Nicole here could at least be another pair of hands they needed so badly, and she seemed to know her way with a knife earlier. "Well if it wasn't obvious already, we're Vagabonds. And it looks like I brought you here on a lucky day, because we need more people for this thing we're trying to do."

"What kind of thing?" She questioned with a eyebrow raised.

"Y'know, raider things... Listen it pays well enough, and you seem like you cut people."

"I do... Also I don't have a actual job here, and I've been trying to get out of here actually. Like that guy back there, I didn't even fuckin know him, I just needed his ride!" She laughed a bit.

Perfect. Lucius thought. Hopefully the rest of the group wouldn't mind him letting Nicole join, because they couldn't really argue with him on it, as they could use anyone at this point. He glanced at the other members of the group, and motioned with his eyes he was gonna let her in. He then looked at her again. "Well then, Miss Nicole. I suppose you have no better option then to join us then?"

She contemplated the idea for moment, looking at the other members of the group, then she smiled and nodded at them.

"Good." He handed her a spare knife that he had, as he remembered he didn't get her switchblade while at the pub, it was a dinky thing anyway, the knife he handed her was more suitable. "Let's see that's two people now?" He said to the others.

[Highfort]

Temir nodded at Max's words. Willis had a decent plan laid out but, given how small their team was, the tinkerer doubted that the Vagabonds had enough to effectively run a ground team, let alone a mortar team and a specific team for heading into the caves. And that was if the raiders hadn't already descended on the site - rumors get around quickly and any firsthand observers would no doubt be interested in what was there. Before he could voice his concerns, however, Willis promptly dismissed Max's arguments and left to go find more Vagabonds to replace their ambush losses. Temir sighed in frustration.

"I think he knows himself and what he's doing but he doesn't know us," he leaned forward on his cushion and sipped his coffee quietly, "If we're lucky, some of us will pick up on artillery fast enough to run the mortar team. Ground team? Perimeter defense? A dedicated cave team? If we split up who we have right now, that's four bodies per team. Doesn't seem very viable to me."

The young punk girl sitting in Lucius' lap startled Temir slightly as she awoke, disoriented. The tinkerer set down his mug slightly more forceful than was polite before muttering a soft apology as he realized they weren't unde attack again. Combat was fraying his nerves, and the dull ache that was subsiding at the back of his skull reminded him that he was far too old to be getting into brawls, let alone melee combat with actual trained fighters and raiders.

"That's two," he nodded as Lucius summarily took the woman into the fold and offered her a knife, "Welcome, Valdis and Nicole. May the Kindred Spirit protect you so you live long and die accomplished in Her Service. Valdis, as I mentioned earlier, we should work on your armor as soon as possible. I might able to do little additions when we're in camp, since I brought my metalworking tools, but I'd prefer if we got the bulk of the overhaul on your suit out of the way while we're still in town. Anyone know of a garage or a warehouse we can borrow for a few hours, just before we head out? Max, you mind helping me look over some of his pieces?"

Temir hoped Max wasn't offended by his earlier comments. Though the tinkerer rebuked any sort of sexual relations - same-sex relations especially - he still greatly respected the mechanic as well as his twin, both of whom had proven themselves invaluable assets to the group.

Still, at the back of his mind, he did wonder why the tingle of Max's lips on his own did not call forth revulsion but excitement from within him.

[Swith Witherward]

Emsa silently agreed with Max and Temir. She had no intention of being Willis' combatant. Not when she had a young son counting on her. It was one thing to lead a group through hostile regions, but completely another to engage in the hostilities to help them meet their Outsider objective, and her death would mean he was legally the property of her former mate's family, a clan much lower in status.

"My fees are tripled if I'm required to be on a team, half payable in advance," she blew the curling steam from her cup before taking a sip. And I'll vanish into the desert if I think things are going sour. She smiled at Devine and added, "There is no one in all of Ticaret as skilled a guide as I am. You can find someone to replace me, of course, but chances are high that you won't make it out of there without being pursued by raiders. I have connections to help you vanish."

She held no opinion regarding the young punk woman, other than her hair making her head a prime target.

Max chewed his lip as Willis spoke. There wasn't a chain of command nor unit cohesion. There were too many loose cannons. He could count on Willis to stay calm under fire, and Valdis was an excellent addition. Still, they had one guide that scouted ahead and didn't report raiders on the move - how can you fail to spot sand kicked up by vehicles traveling at a high speed?! They had a woman with mental health problems. They'd just picked up punk girl, and she looked as green as a grass blade. Temir would need time to heal, and they'd lost his rig.

Both Rom and tech-head were drawn from their pensive moments by the sound of Temir's cup thudding the table.

"My rig should suit your needs. We have a full shop we can unpack," Max replied lightly. His aviator cap concealed his ears, thus the embarrassed blush went unnoticed. "Otherwise you'll pay premium prices to lease space in a shop."

He glanced at Devine. "Didn't we leave a full day ahead of schedule? We can spare a day to familiarize people with equipment, plus give Temir time to mend. None of us have had any sleep yet, either. Unwise to set out fatigued and go into a combat situation exhausted. But that's not my call. I roll with whatever you decide."

[Monfrox]

Orera stopped, and so did a couple others. Really, that was pretty generic to just out and call in the middle of a street. She a the others turned around, but after getting a look at her, they soon went on their way. Really, Orera stuck out like a sore thumb but at least the authorities weren't on her yet. Still, they might be if the man she saw cleaning his rifle right on the bar counter continued to associate with her. She also wondered what he meant. Did he want an escort service, or an "escort" service? Or maybe both? She wasn't really about to partake in either, though.

Still, maybe this may be another way out of the city. A more secure one than stowing away in the back of a caravan trailer, hoping the guards don't go rummaging around too much. She walked up to Willis, her eyes not unlike that of a shark's in the sense that she was still acting with instincts kicked in. She was also noticeably taller than the other females. Somewhere in the neighborhood of about 6 feet tall, maybe even a little higher. She also noticed the other man from before, the one who through the chestnuts at her. She merely glanced at him, nothing more.

[Ayreonia]

"Cream? Why, that is... blasphemy, I think the Good Book says so."

The poor barista could only blink in nervous confusion. Confesor's eyes assumed a distant gaze, and after a few seconds of paralyzed silence, he quickly fished out a notepad and a pen.

"Sir?" the server stammered. "You still want t-"

"Shhhhh!" Furious scribbling, turning into triumph. "There! Wrothwild 2:13-14... Then God said, "Behold, I have given you the bean, and that you shall consume by itself, ground and cooked but not otherwise tarnished." For worldly things are like coffee: dark and bitter, and it is not Man's place to ease his fate. Yes." Wrothwild slammed the notepad shut and smiled up at the bewildered barista. "In case that did not clear it up, I would like a cup of coffee. No cream, no sugar. Thank you."

He joined his team as two of them were engaged in discussing some ridiculous heresy. "You know," he interjected as he sat down on a cushion with a grunt, "you - scrap worshiper - you follow a religion that is literally younger than I am." He took a long and loud sip of his drink. "Just saying. In fact, it might even be younger than yourself. Those ships," he gestured vaguely towards the ceiling, "weren't there at the behest of some spirit. It was Man's folly that put them there..." His voice grew darker. "And it was Man's folly that brought them crashing down."

He listened to the battle plan with indifference. No plan survived contact with the enemy, and after all, he had no interest in whatever they had been sent to recover. "I can shoot," he commented at an opportune pause. "My aim is true, my fury righteous, and my weapons sharp. Put me in the thickest, Lord High Commander," he asked Willis with a coy smile, "and you will mostly be left with counting their dead."

[The Carlisle]

Eira listened to the conversation and planning as she drank her coffee. Her tiredness slowly disappeared as she dank the good cup of coffee, the caffeine giving her a much needed boost and the taste allowing her to enjoy it.

To Eira, Willis's plan felt a little too much for a ragtag group of Vagabonds. Only a few in the crew looked to have any real training. And with contact being a week away, she doubted they could train to be a cohesive unit. And with her experience, one in the thick of it plans went to shit fast. Who knows what could happen that'll fuck things over. And she knew she could be part of the problem with her other personalities. But at the same time, it was better to have a plan than nothing. And at least Willis was providing one even if it was a bit optimistic.

"I-I'll go with the sc-scouts," Eira said, "I-i'll be the m-most useful th-there. I c-can handle an an-animal if need be." She could shoot, and she had the weaponry to provide the firepower, but she was no soldier. She wasn't the best aim, and she got nervous killing others. She could crack under the pressure, and cracking didn't bring anything good. Last time she did.... forget about it. But her eyes were good, and she had a good danger sense. She could spot for a long distance and remember details clearly. She looked at Esma for a bit. If this plan was what they were running with, she was going to be partnering up with her in the team. Esma was an experienced tracker and guide,better than Eira in this entire area. Eira felt she and her would get along well, being fellow survivalists.

[Cylarn]

-snip-

"The paramilitary one," Willis said to the women who hand begun to approach him. "The rest of you, carry on."

Willis's eyes then went back to Orera, maintaining direct eye contact. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she had just come from a fight-or-flight scenario; she was definitely at the bar during the fight. In a crowd management situation, the authorities put clearing everyone out before making arrests, and the only ones to be arrested were likely the ones who stuck around in the bar for far too long. The other merc was considerably tall, almost as tall as Willis. They were out in the open; talking about the job in the open was not ideal. Willis needed to move their conversation somewhere more private.

"I saw you earlier," he said. "Would you like to grab some tea and talk?"

It was a vague statement to outsiders, but Orera would more than likely pick up the meaning almost immediately. WIllis waited for an answer.

[Mincaldenteans]

"Just like that," Devine said with a sigh of resignation and disgust mixed in. He snapped in fingers in emphasis, the red gleaming off his manicured nails, "And we have two new people. Fantastic," he shook his head, reaching over without uncrossing his legs and took a mug of coffee that was light brown to his liking. He eyed the two new prospects and made a mental note to redistribute the money proportionately.

Esma's detail to having connections to ghost out of the area didn't go unnoticed; instead Devine played it off and added it as another future reference. Of course, that meant it went either way, a dangerous tool at her tip of her fingers. One could only imagine who she made disappear into the sands that dared challenged her. Devine liked her more for it. Talk of tactics interested the drag queen little, a standard fight was about as good as he got. Start adding explosives and Devine usually sat back from a safe distance to spectate rather than being part of a band of whackjobs going out in a blaze of glory. Literally.

He shook his head and blew the steam off his coffee, Wrothwild's own haughty words of divine omen only made Devine's drink taste sour. One jihadist was out of the picture, the tinkerer and his reverence for the metal nipple in the sand barely humored him, but Wrothwild... his voice and demeanor carried with him the trappings of an old religion the drag queen was sure had been stomped out since Rigel's abandonment.

"Hope, wish, and pray," he mumbled to himself with a second resigned exhale through his colored lips. He regarded Max with a shrug, "We left because we had the equipment and the people ready. That raider ambush was... unexpected... to say the least."

Devine sat his now empty cup back on the table, sitting back upon his comfy chair with his arms crossed as he contemplated the future. He was no tactician, strategist, commando. He saw numbers and probability, he saw patterns and puzzles be it mechanical or organic, he knew when to cut out and when to dig his claws in; some called that an opportunist - others a scavenger. Devine liked to think of it as being a glorified accountant with exquisite tastes.

"We can take a day, I suppose. Would do well for the rest of you to get to know one another, especially Valdis and Nicky here," he barely made a gesture with his chin to acknowledge them. "AA don't give two shits how we get this job done, and with how we got our asses handed to us, I'd say the timeline is all but fucked to hell. I'll worry about AA, you peaches just get to familiarize yourselves a bit better, start talking whatever it is you need talkin' bout for the coming fight."

He got up then, fussing with his jacket and shirt as his hands ran down the length of his body quickly to smooth out any wrinkles in the brown and tan fabrics. "One day," Devine repeated, his voice changed just slightly to convey the gravity of the favor he was bestowing on them. AA may not be pleased, but Devine himself could use a day, if only to make other arrangements in between. He parted ways without so much as a wave and left the shop for his room.

==//\\==

"Cheery guy isn't he?" Aubrey said with a smirk, happily downing the dark decadence. Coffee was his favorite guilty pleasure and it wasn't everyday that he got to sit down and enjoy it. The smells alone were enough to bring a smile to his face, though fought the urge to do so, instead keeping an indifferent expression while the others talked. Normally, he'd like a bit of whisky in his cup of coffee, but this kind of drink demanded a level of respect all on its own. Another cup was filled and Aubrey swiped it enthusiastically as he sat back and brushed the long strands of his sandy blond hair back before the tips could drop into the coffee.

Hugging the cup with both hands, he blew at it and peered up to the rest of them, "So how do we start? I know shit about mortars and my skills don't lend itself to being a jarhead. We have muscle," he glanced briefly toward Lucius and Valdis, instantly classifying the young pretty punk girl as 'expendable' but didn't outright say it, "we have techheads. We're missing the brains of this op and he left for some chick he saw back in the bar. We're not looking too good, not that I'm trying to be a downer, just a realist."

[Highfort]

Temir leveled a dark gaze upon the newcomer priest as the old man slandered the Cult that had raised the tinkerer up and given him purpose in life. Even as he sipped his coffee, the Turkish grounds becoming partially visible as he neared the bottom of his cup, Temir knew Wrothwild would have to go. The Kindred Spirit did not tolerate outright blasphemers; disbelievers, yes, but brazenly insulting the Cult and implying it as a false faith was worthy of only death in the eyes of his fellows. The tinkerer shared their zealous sentiments.

The fact that the old man would be staying with them for the duration of the trip did little to endear Temir to him, "You would be wise not to call Her Body scrap nor me and my people scrap worshipers. The Kindred Spirit does not take kindly to men such as yourselves, men of high and mighty stature and of mocking voice and tone. I do agree, you belong in the thick of it, sir. Perhaps then we shall see if your god is willing to protect you from enemy fire without the help of the Spirit's machines and metal."

As he set down his cup, Temir forced himself to relax and considered Max's proposition with an unsteady voice, "I'd be most thankful if I could use it, Max. You'll get to work on the armor - if you don't mind, Valdis, I think it's fair compensation for being able to use the Twin's supplies. The core of the design looks good but it's taken a beating and we need to beef it up if we want it to last against gunfire."

Eira's nervous babbling and desire to be put on a scouting team further concerned the tinkerer. Even as he finished speaking to Max, he found himself once again doubting the team's cohesion. Esma had already pointed out that she worked better alone - unless Devine was too thick to understand what her tripling her fee meant - and with a blasphemer on the team in the guise of what appeared to be a holy man, he didn't see himself getting along very smoothly with the rest of them either. Devine's refusal to consider any other path except taking a day off before plunging into the thick of it only confirmed Temir's fears. They were all going to die in that pass unless a miracle happened. And unless they secured the cargo - even if they lived, AA was going to hunt them down until they were found at the bottom of some well or canyon, pushing daisies.

Kindred Spirit, give me a sign. Where are you going with this shit?

Finishing the last of his coffee, he nudged Esma, "I think that fortune-telling would be good in a bit, after this is over. Doesn't look like we've got good odds of making it out in one piece with that package in tow."

Nodding at Aubrey, he seconded the man's opinion, "I think we should be looking for alternative exits that can keep AA off of our back if this goes south. Not that I think we should abandon it outright but I have no interest in running all night for the rest of my life because I have to flee AA trying to slit my throat for fucking up."

[Swith Witherward]

"What a fuckwhistle", Esma growled to herself as Bushy McOpinionated proceeded to insult Temir's religion while simultaneously alluding to her own people as fools; the Rom were the labor force, drifters that worked for low wages to put food in their family's mouths. Did the old coot think Ticaret was built by anyone other than former ship crews... experienced welders, engineers, dockworkers, carpenters and the like? Where the fuck did he think all those skilled laborers came from? Mars?

Her eyebrow arched as Temir growled his own response, though his was directly offered to the fanatic that had settled at the table. Well, good for him. He had every right to defend his people. She turned her attention to Eira as the tinkerer cut the conversation with the preacher short.

"I appreciate your offer but I'd feel safer if you remained with your vehicle," Esma pushed aside her rancor at the preacher to address the weird woman politely. "I could offer you all sorts of reasons, such as my ability to move in harmony with nature, but the truth of the matter is that I don't trust that you won't have a personality shift within earshot of our enemy just when we've reached their camp's perimeter. I'm sorry."

Temir's offer to allow Max a chance to examine Valdis' tech firsthand dispelled any remaining discomfort. He smiled. "Would be an honor to assist, really, Valdis. You wouldn't have any maintenance records handy for the armor, by chance? We might as well get it singing if we're doing to beef it up at the same time."

Devine's departure created another break in conversation, and Esma's lips pulled into a smirk as Aubrey offered his opinion of the man. In fairness, Esma didn't mind the flamboyant Devine. He was a survivor, and knew his business as well as she knew hers. She was about to say so when she felt an elbow nudge her, and the coffee grounds were brought to her attention.

"I have to agree. Running from the AA isn't on my bucket list," she said to Aubrey as she turned Temir's empty cup upside down on its saucer and allowed the residual liquid to drain. "And even the best laid plans don't survive contact with the enemy."

Her fingertips drummed the cup bottom for good measure before setting the thing upright. "You're about to get into a fight with an idiot," she spoke softly to keep the conversation between them, though she was smiling. "Honestly, I don't understand why people can't respect other beliefs. If it helps, he's not worth the effort. Do you honestly believe him rational? To fight with an irrational man is to wrestle with the wind. And to serve your god best is to keep all your fingers intact in order to work with Max to minister to Valdis. For nothing transpires under the Sky without the Sky seeing; the Sky can not be offended by mortal words; offer your pride up to it and the Sky will tend the wounds; cast your heart's burdens to the Wind and leave them there and you will be rewarded with peace of mind for the night."

She glanced at the cup's confines and snorted, then tipped the cup so Temir could see. "These lines along the side indicate you're going on a long journey far from home. That's pretty much a given. The grounds on this other edge form a koyun kafatası - sheep's skull. It could indicate that you need to be more stubborn in asserting your own goals for your life path, but it can also indicate a stumbling block that you're unnecessarily placing, thus your barring yourself from reaching the potential that Teng... er, that your own god has planned for you. The kanatlar next to it - this blob that looks like a bird wing - can mean a desire to free yourself from your society's shackles. But it can also be a sign that you're trying too hard to conform to it, since the kanatlar is so close to the koyun kafatası."

She scrutinized the cup a bit longer, finding a few things that concerned her, and she clucked her tongue softly.

"The rest will remain to be seen," Esma shook her head and handed the cup and saucer back to Temir.

[Chedastan]

Lucius could agree that they probably needed a day to recoup themselves, and socialize and familiarize themselves with one another. He knew he could at least take the extra time to acquire some more parts and equipment he needed, mostly restocking, but he figured there are probably some modifications he could add to his current loadout, as the typical saying goes, "there's always room for improvement." But then he remember there is the problem of him not having any money to pay for anything. But to be fair, it's really only a minor inconvenience for him, it just meant he had to get more creative with getting what he needs, he knew he'll manage, one way or another.

Lucius did take note though of Eria's constant stuttering of speech, and her insistence on scouting made it all the more disconcerting. Just one more thing to worry about then, but it should had been a given when they had first met, but he could sense it could be something deeper. But in all actuality, he was more concern about Esma demanding triple pay for her continued services. He couldn't say he had ever really trusted her at all, but he could tell already what she's planning on doing if the going gets too rough. He couldn't necessarily blame her, but there was some things that annoyed him that either needed to be either stamped out, or spitefully "resolved." He couldn't say he had much care for her either, maybe he'll have a chat with her later.

He listened to what the others had to say, ignoring the religion exchange, he couldn't agree more that they needed some alternatives to work with here. Because as it stands, they don't have a whole lot going for them, and now there's the added threat of their employer's employer looming on them ever more. He could tell already that he was going to have to pull a lot of everyone's weight here, as he felt some obligation to this oddly, despite the risks involved. Of course it helped a bit that he didn't concerned himself too much about raiders, as they were of course basically lunch meat to him (in both meanings). Really his worry was himself to the group. He knew how messy things could get if he needed them to be, and it's probably in his current interests to avoid suspicions from his own group, when possible, he wasn't quite ready yet...

He looked to Nicole, and wondered how well she was taking this all in. He could imagine for her it may be a bit overwhelming, essentially given the people they have. But he had a feeling she'll remain interested at least. They did need her of course. He remembered they mentioned Valdis's armor, maybe he'll take a few whacks at it to get it working again. But the most obvious question first. "So exactly what's wrong with your armor again? Sorry, I don't think I was here for that. I could maybe help you on it." He said to Valdis, feeling eager.

---

Nicole felt a tad understandably overwhelmed by all the stuff she was taking in of this group. She was at least relieved when their presumed cross-dressing boss had told them that they will had a day before they went out, and she was also interested to know what these people she was with were all about. But from what she could tell already, she knew she was already out of her league with them. Hopefully she'll end up getting somewhat decently payed for this, but really she was mostly there for the transportation out of the Oasis, in somewhat secured company, at least she hoped. She's also hoping that once she gets to know them, they'll prove to be competent by some degree. But that might not actually be too much of an issue, and really she should be looking out for herself. Indeed she wasn't feeling that confident in herself anymore, and was beginning to wonder what she had gotten herself into this time.

Feeling nervous now, she looked at Lucius, who was waiting for a reply from power armor dude, Valdis right? Then she looked at the three people arguing over religion and other things. Maybe she should asked for names? "Um, hey? So what are you guy's names?" She asked them a bit nervously, then she pointed at Lucius. "You I know, of course." She added.

[Monfrox]

Orera stood in the street, a bit confused at the gesture. She didn't get why this soldier was just calling her for tea, even though she looked ready to do business. She looked behind her and swore she saw a couple officers among the crowd. Looking into the building, she noticed the others from the bar. The Vagabonds. Like it or not, right now there were probably her best chance of getting out quietly. She moved past Willis and Mathias and walked into the hookah bar. God, it reeked. She'd never smoked or anything of the like, so having this extremely pungent smell assault her was very distasteful. Still, it wasn't as bad as tear gas. She took a seat on the edge of the Vagabond crowd and looked down to keep the light shadowing her eyes as she listened in to the others.

[The Carlisle]

Eira got a twinge of anger fro being denied by Esma. It always happened, people doubting her competence. Every job people were wary of her, whether she'd switch and get them killed. And when she does, they all don't die. There was a level of competence in the other four... sane ones. She put little trust in them, but what trust is there is in their competence.

"Th-that's fine but.... I-I wouldn't b-be here if th-there wasn't a l-level of com-p-petence in my other p-personal-lities. Th-they know when to k-keep quiet, th-they know how t-to shoot. Th-they are serious wh-when the situation c-calls for it. A-and they still h-have my eyes," Eira says in a noticeably serious tone," B-but if you st-still want me off the t-team, that's f-fine."

"Mama?" said Shimmer, tugging on her sleeve and rubbing her belly a bit. "I-I'll be right b-back," Eira said. She then got up and walked to the barista to order Shimmer something to eat.

[Ayreonia]

The Khan cultist was visibly upset by the truth. "Denial," Wrothwild half-mumbled, half-recited, as if recalling something someone had said a long time ago. Despite the tone, he was addressing the other man of cloth directly. "That is all that keeps your little sect together. Not accepting that no, that ship, kindred spirit, god, whatever it is, will never rise." He looked the cultist in the eye, direct and earnest. "You may find offense in me calling it scrap, but what is a ship that won't fly, if not scrap?"

He swirled his coffee around, staring into it as if it held answers he did not. "It's just false hope," he maundered on, to nobody in particular and to everyone. "Saw a lot of that during the early years. Folks scheming, plotting and working. To get off the planet, or make it better." He let out a scoff-chuckle. "In vain, all of it. You cannot fight the planet. You have to accept it, see that it is your world, till the end of your days." He sighed and gulped down the remains of his coffee. "No old warship will lift you into the heavens to a better life. For Rigel is sacred ground, and this is our punishment for treading it."

Wrothwild realized Temir's thinly veiled threat for what it was, but decided not to make an issue out of it. Words were wind. "Yes, enemy fire, from both front and back" he said, smiling slightly, then shrugging. "My God will, or won't, protect us. That's not for me to say."

He could hear their Rom, Esma, proceed to verbally slap Eira in the face. It was either hilarious or outrageous, he couldn't decide.

"You know," he murmured to Esma, slightly leaning towards her, after Eira had left for the bar, "that girl doesn't look like much, but she is one of the most renowned Vagabonds on the planet. She had charted half the region between Montecristo and the Deep Sands before turning twenty, if what they say is true. Yes, she eats people and yes, she used to ride with Hiram, but she's also one of the best. Just saying."

[Swith Witherward]

Esma grunted as Wrothwild attempted to get a rise out of Temir. Here was a rude old asshole that thought he knew everything. Her eyebrow arched as he leaned towards her to address her decision regarding Bad Mother.

"I'm not at all impressed by her so far," the Rom blandly retorted, "I've never heard of her, and my network is extensive."

There was no reason to quarrel with a madman. It wouldn't produce anything, and all he was doing was alienating the group toward each other. She didn't want to be present when Temir lost his patience, and she didn't trust that Wrothwild would keep his tongue from wagging long enough to avoid someone else shooting him. How much time would pass before he insulted Max's rig or Valdis power armor? Worse, what if he opened his mouth and had a go at Divine while they were on the road?

"I have every right to select my scouting team," she shrugged and then, still keeping her eyes on the madman in case he exploded, she adjusted her veil to once again cover her nose and mouth. "I explained my reasons in a professionally polite fashion, and apologized in advance should she not understand my reasoning."

Of course, it was likely that the others might side with Wrothwild, not that it mattered to her. She wasn't a Vagabond. Devine hired her to do a job, and it was his business if he chose to hire someone new. Esma could accept that. What she couldn't accept was the continual negativity and insult coming from Wrothwild.

"Pire icin yorgan yakmak, Temir," she murmured kindly. "Do not burn the bed for one louse. My deepest apologies to you and to your Kindred Spirit, that such foul contempt is cast upon you both while in an establishment owned by one of my people. It's disgraceful. If it continues, I'll ask that this man is removed from the premises."


Edit: sorry Agy. Had your deity labeled incorrectly.

[Esternial]

"Ahoy hoy up there," she kept her head down as she called out to him. Her rabid curiosity towards anything that might be potentially related to the mysterious Blacklight (Holy Grail of Technology!) was dampened by her desire to not fuck anything else up. "Look, I'm just dropping things off. I know you probably want to be alone and don't want company."

These last words tenderly tumbled from her lips as if she'd spoken directly to Max. Such was the dynamic of their relationship that, despite her bravada, she was loath to make a step without him supporting her. Subdued by the thought, she sighed. Her knuckles brushed against a value on the Bastard's side as fingers fumbled with keys to unlock a storage compartment.

"Hey, would you like a drink?"

She had no idea why she offered it. If he wanted one, he'd be in a bar.

Turning his head towards the sound of Mia's voice, Zed remained quiet at first. During his moment of mental acuity, he felt exposed, an otherwise unknown sensation of self-consciousness about the scars that ran across his upper body like roads on a map. Then Mia spoke again.

"Don't think I'd mind one. Just about done 'ere." He responded, checking one last time if he hadn't forgotten to put anything back in place, especially the plating. The internal intricacies of his arm did not tolerate much, and required a far amount of protection - first and foremost from the sand and dirt Rigel Three had so much of. With a heavy thud his armor and coat landed on the ground. Zed followed shortly after.

Though most of upper body was scarred enough to draw anyone's attention, it was his arm - the one that was still flesh and blood - that drew the most. It was surprisingly pristine, with only a few scars here and there - about as much as you'd expect on any vagabond. What actually stood out more than that, at least upon closer inspection, was a faint difference in pigmentation of his arm compared to the rest of his torso, separated by a border of scar tissue that trailed across his skin like a like a bangle around the boundary where his humerus ended and his shoulder began.

Considering he was still wearing his mask, even Zed realized it made him look like a Psycho - more than usual - with his exposed torso, missing only a sufficiently crude weapon and an ample repertoire of profanity to complete the picture.

"How rude of me, this ain't decent lookin' at all." Zed muttered, reaching for his body armor on the ground and snapping it back on before donning the heavy coat. Despite its appearance, the fabric was quite suitable for desert weather, whatever it was.

[Cylarn]

"Come get some tea, Mathias," Willis stated to the hippy.

Orera seemed willing enough to hear his proposal, and her silence didn't really bother Willis too much. She wasn't going to waste her breath discussing business on the street, choosing instead to head over to the joint that the Vagabonds had occupied. Willis followed behind her as she entered the establishment.

... girl doesn't look like much, but she is one of the most renowned Vagabonds on the planet. She had charted half the region between Montecristo and the Deep Sands before turning twenty, if what they say is true. Yes, she eats people and yes, she used to ride with Hiram, but she's also one of the best. Just saying."

Willis seemed to have caught the tail-end of the conversation, but he had heard enough. Indeed, Willis knew of Hiram Dupont - "that Jew with the Tank" - and his little sabbatical in the Deep Sands, including his rescue from Montecristo. It was that little sabbatical that forced Willis to vacate his position and future with UNSEC. They chose to pose as an UNSEC IP, and Russ threw around his former rank. When that happened, UNSEC had a panic attack. Russ Gellar's mercenary career was dotted with various acts that could be - and were - seen as acts of terrorism, and with the former soldier claiming to be with UNSEC once again, that would potentially lead to war between AA and UNSEC. No one needed that. They launched an internal investigation that was more for show if anything, and it was Willis Clark they chose as a scapegoat. He was given the chance to resign or face a courts-martial, which would more or less be a kangaroo court deciding to execute Major Clark for something that was out of his control. He fought it the best he could, but in the end he resigned his commission. While many saw Hiram and his crew as fabled adventurers braving the treacherous sands for wealth and fortune, Willis only saw the end to everything that he had known.

He wasn't going to release a short-tempered outburst at Wrothwild for his comment; that was not in his nature. Instead, he shut his mouth and took a moment to look at his group. They were arguing. It seemed that someone had made a suggestion about who was doing what, and Esma - the chief scout - wasn't having any of it. He slammed his hand on the table, to get their attention, and then scanned the table with a rather formidable glare.

"I don't like arguments," he stated bluntly. "Learn to work together, or hit the road. Esma, you're my chief scout. You have every right to choose your team, and I want you to profile each member of the team and choose who you think will be best. I don't want any personal prejudices to come into it, either. For those of you concerned about my plan, know that we're training all day tomorrow, and the plan will be further refined. If my information is correct, we have time, and to be honest, I'd rather us be behind schedule rather than unprepared."

He then looked over at Devine.

"Tell AA we need more funding. We need to procure another vehicle, and more munitions. I doubt it'll be hard to find arms dealers, or another vehicle. If they want APE, then they'll funnel us more cash to accomplish our objective. If they give you a hard time, then get me on the line."

He looked back at the group.

"Right now, I want y'all to save your energy for tomorrow. Rest, recuperate, and stop arguing. I need to speak with a prospective new member, Eira, you and I are talking one-on-one afterwards."

He looked over at Orera, who had taken her seat. Willis sat down across from her, and sat up straight in his seat. He looked over at Devine, and motioned for him to approach.

"My name is Willis Clark," he said. "I'm leading an expedition to an area of the desert known as "APE," at the behest of AA. We've lost some personnel in a raider attack, and we're recruiting. By the look of your equipment, you seem to have acquired prior service with a paramilitary outfit. I like that, and I'm sure that this expedition could use another person with martial training. Are you still attached to your outfit?"

[Highfort]

Temir was about to rearrange the old man's face, his gnarled, grease-stained fist clenching involuntarily as Wrothwild continued to rave about the Cult in a very unfriendly, disrespectful fashion. Only Esma's soothing words stayed his hand, and he resorted to employing his imagination toward concocting the most creative - and drawn out - of painful endings for the old man. When this was over...

The Kindred Spirit would have been ashamed of the thoughts that wormed their way through his head. Flashes of exposed veins and arteries, carefully and delicately plucked and twined like strings on a violin, danced in his brain. The imagined screamings of Wrothwild were sweet music to accompany the vivid images of slow, methodical removal of organs and tissue. The human body was simply another one of the great machines employed by the Kindred Spirit - and he was nothing if not careful and intentional with his work on machines.

His dark thoughts were interrupted as Willis ordered the team to cease their bickering, though the tinkerer felt as though he had been in the right as far as that was concerned. The orders to rest were a relief to him, though he wasn't sure if he would be getting his own room. New to the mercenary business, he hoped that his employer was willing to afford him one of the perks he'd given up after hanging up his Ecclesiarchial laurels. Willis' introduction to the newest member of the team interested him as well. The woman appeared to be heavily-garbed and he could see little beyond her eyes, but if the leader's words were correct then she would be a valuable asset as ex-paramilitary. At the very least, she wouldn't be a liability like Eira and her child.

"Excuse me, sir, just a moment," he stood up from his cushion to address Willis before he departed, "Where exactly are we staying? Do we have arrangements or are we to find our own?"

[Monfrox]

Orera tried her best to settle down and keep herself on a low-profile. Honestly, at this point, she just wanted to go home to Ashtown. This venture was proving to be very unwanted. She kept from looking at Willis as he spoke.

"N-no..." She said quietly.

But she wasn't very excited about the idea of being with a bunch of Vagabonds who just got out of a bar fight. For them, they were acting like it was just another day. For many, it might've been, but people got hurt and she was partly responsible for that. She really hadn't wanted to get involved, but trouble had a way of finding her all the time.

[Cylarn]

Orera tried her best to settle down and keep herself on a low-profile. Honestly, at this point, she just wanted to go home to Ashtown. This venture was proving to be very unwanted. She kept from looking at Willis as he spoke.

"N-no..." She said quietly.

But she wasn't very excited about the idea of being with a bunch of Vagabonds who just got out of a bar fight. For them, they were acting like it was just another day. For many, it might've been, but people got hurt and she was partly responsible for that. She really hadn't wanted to get involved, but trouble had a way of finding her all the time.

Willis took her lack of eye contact and the hesitation in her voice as an indicator that she didn't really want the job. The lack of eye contact bothered him; he saw it as a lack of respect. He leaned back in his chair, and sighed.

"Is there somewhere else you'd rather be?" he asked her. "The job will pay well. All we need you to do is follow orders. If you're not interested, the door's behind me, and I won't be phased one bit if you turn down the job."

[Mincaldenteans]

He was so close to the exit. Damn Captain Hottie and his unnaturally powerful wiles of masculinity. Of course Devine had to take notice, of course Devine had to spare him a glance when he hadn't done so much as twitch an eyebrow for the rest the group (save Esma and Wrothwild for two entirely different reasons). What made Willis so damn special that he could literally presume to have the drag queen at his beck and call?

"You know this ain't one of them set ups right, boo? You don't just snap your fingers and expect me front and center, well at least not fully clothed anyway," Devine said with a smirk as he eyed the newest recruit seated across the table. "And eloquence dear, work on that, would you?"

Devine moved to an empty chair, setting himself comfortably down as his jacket shifted like a blanket around his legs. He crossed his legs and arms, shifting his weight to the left with his head tilted to study the young girl like a display item. The laptop was safely tucked to his right. Devine's dark eye-shadow did little to soften his impassive gaze, somewhere in those dark pupils a question bounced around, wondering what trick this pony had the others didn't.

"My my, another one. And just how did you find yourself to be in the good graces of Willis, chica?"

[Monfrox]

Orera grabbed her elbows and pulled herself in a bit more. Eloquence indeed. She wasn't getting a good feeling from this, but she was trying to wind down and as such, was retracting back into her shell.

"H-he asked...and I just answered..." She squeaked.

Orera was keeping her head a bit low as she talked. She couldn't really bare to look them in the eye yet. It was one of her many quirks developed over her life. For now she just tried to keep in a sense of awareness as she sat to discuss things.