Gamma World - Traveling Allegheny (IC)

[Harbertia]

How to Join: Receive an Invite or DM (telegram) a request to me, Harbertia, the host.

---

GAMMA WORLD
=Traveling Allegheny=

At the dawn of the 24th century, the world went mad. I suppose it was coming, surely there had been signs? It was such a promising time I was told- 100 years of the planet gravitating towards global unity, androids to free of of hard labor, power broadcast from stations for miles, and even the ability to restore the dead to the living. I was told it was a golden age, but looking around I wonder how I believed that. Something wasn't right- people don't just lash out at each other for no reason. They don't try to destroy the world with weapons of mass destruction left from the prior century- and a government establishing peace surely would have disbanded those weapons long ago. Perhaps the world was held captive by that state, perhaps people where bored?

Maybe that's just how life is- we get bored and kill each other. Maybe Humanity needs more then a promise to live on, but results. Perhaps simply living isn't enough. I wouldn't have thought about any of this 40 years ago but when people start asking you why you think what you do well you either get frustrated and knock them down or you answer. Here in Mamon we're rather civilized folk, but that don't mean we can't kick some teeth in. Since loosing the dream, and seeing how placid our folks in Salem had become well- we realized neither life was for us.

A broad shouldered man was leaning his back on a counter in the old 'Amerikan Trade Post' listening to the elder trade keep speak. The man was taking a drag of some purple weed, creating a faint blue smoke in the air. Outside, if one where to look out from this mountain side trading post, was the village of Mamon. It was nestled in some hills with a trail leading up into the Appalachian mountains. The trail extended down into forests next to a lake- the ruins of Pitz Burke could be seen from here- the buildings in ruin on the horizon. The village had a market place around the 'Amerikan Trade Post' which had been some cabin before the Social Wars, the violent conflicts that destroyed the world that was. This market, which branches extensively for about 60 meters in all directions, consisted of venders with stands and venders on skins or cloth upon the ground- all paying the Trade Keep for use of the grounds. In the middle of this market was an area 2 x 2 meters marked off by pegs in the dirt for some purpose. On the hills over looking the post are the homes of the people who live here- all 180 of them.

Having come with great difficulty down the mountain trail from the East where two wagons parked at the outskirts of this market. It is here, in this town at the edge of what was Pennsylvania that our story begins....

[Danceria]

Marco Miles
At the Gilded Goose tavern, Mammon, East Allegheny
Dusk

---

Having an android companion was rare, having two was considered ostentatious. Of course, this was par for the course in the old Marco Miles fortune, and no small grace given to him by Carnegie. The tricorn-wearing gentleman shouldered the strap of his musket before entering the tavern. The sun was already falling low, and he had garnered enough trust with the townsfolk. Carnegie would follow with a shoppe, and maybe something for the people to trade with the Sleeth, or at least, arm themselves if they try to double-cross us. the young man smiled to himself, and sat by the bar. Ordering himself some pork-rinds and an ale, he would look at the slightly disheveled raven-haired lady across the room. "Mornin' Morty!" he called her over. "Sleep good?"

[Bingellia]

Mila "Morticia" Kelzwood
The Guilded Goose tavern, Mammon, East Allegheny
Dusk

---

Mila stifled a yawn as she lifted her cup of ale to her lips. Taking a sip, she once again became aware of the fact she was very overdressed compared to the other patrons as her well-kept garbs contrasted with their comparatively plain sets of work clothes. This was no bother to the women enjoying the early evening peace as she carefully spooned what was little was left of her soup onto a hard piece of bread. She mentally sighed as she realized said peace may be ruined when she noticed the well-worn blue leather of Marco's jacket out of the corner of her eye. She quickly finished her bread with a crunch and wiped away the crumbs with her handkerchief.

The warm meal, at least, cleared away the groggy haze, which left her in a far better mood than what could have been. Hearing him call her, she stood with her cup in hand, walked over to the bar, and took the stool beside the one next to him. "I've had better, Mr. Miles," she smirked slightly, revealing the faint tip of a fang. "The path kept knocking my glasses off, as it seems we hit all of the bumps on the road." The smirk faded as she once again sipped her drink, "How have the negotiations treated you?"

[Harbertia]

GM
A rather porcine man, his skin hanging in flabs and his nose as it cut off, set the prok-rinds and ale before Marco with a faint nod before flumping bow-legged to the stove. The patrons and urchins partaking of the tavern where a mixed lot. The bar was fourteen meters long and L shaped like the building. Four tables in front of the bar, two to the side. An upside down US Flag hung on one of the walls. There where roughly 9 others (not including 'Morticia' and Marco nor the staff present. The Porcine man was certainly not the only laborer- two rather fine looking persons- a man and a woman in their early 20s did the bulk of order taking, barkeeping, and tab taking. The woman was an albino while the man was a green eyed red head presently getting another glass ready for the tap.

[Harbertia]

Doc, his lab coat wore, was leaning arms crossed against CA-7 in front of the Wagons. His eyes glancing over the market. The Tavern was from this view to the right but Doc had no need to venture there. He had stocked up previous and had no need to replenish his supplies; nor mingle at all. Here was just fine. He didn't really have to lean, the benefit of a high endurance, but the angle was in some regard pleasing though his eyes did not express this. He had the appearance of someone gravely indifferent to what was around him. The chittering of shrewd negotiations and barter, the clicking of coin, - a little girl holding Domars to a candle to produce a projection of colored light. It wasn't anything of interest to him.

[Danceria]

GM
A rather porcine man, his skin hanging in flabs and his nose as it cut off, set the prok-rinds and ale before Marco with a faint nod before flumping bow-legged to the stove. The patrons and urchins partaking of the tavern where a mixed lot. The bar was fourteen meters long and L shaped like the building. Four tables in front of the bar, two to the side. An upside down US Flag hung on one of the walls. There where roughly 9 others (not including 'Morticia' and Marco nor the staff present. The Porcine man was certainly not the only laborer- two rather fine looking persons- a man and a woman in their early 20s did the bulk of order taking, barkeeping, and tab taking. The woman was an albino while the man was a green eyed red head presently getting another glass ready for the tap.

"Much obliged." he thanked the barkeep, it was good manners after all, and made sure to tip them the appropriate amount in Domars.

Mila "Morticia" Kelzwood
The Guilded Goose tavern, Mammon, East Allegheny
Dusk

---

Mila stifled a yawn as she lifted her cup of ale to her lips. Taking a sip, she once again became aware of the fact she was very overdressed compared to the other patrons as her well-kept garbs contrasted with their comparatively plain sets of work clothes. This was no bother to the women enjoying the early evening peace as she carefully spooned what was little was left of her soup onto a hard piece of bread. She mentally sighed as she realized said peace may be ruined when she noticed the well-worn blue leather of Marco's jacket out of the corner of her eye. She quickly finished her bread with a crunch and wiped away the crumbs with her handkerchief.

The warm meal, at least, cleared away the groggy haze, which left her in a far better mood than what could have been. Hearing him call her, she stood with her cup in hand, walked over to the bar, and took the stool beside the one next to him. "I've had better, Mr. Miles," she smirked slightly, revealing the faint tip of a fang. "The path kept knocking my glasses off, as it seems we hit all of the bumps on the road." The smirk faded as she once again sipped her drink, "How have the negotiations treated you?"

"Well, no more information on the Sleeth other than vague directions." Marco sighed. "But good news, even if we don't find them...Carnegie's gonna have an easier time moving in..." he sighed. "So we'll get paid that way, I guess. How are you holding up aside from the bumpy roads?"

[Bingellia]

"Well, no more information on the Sleeth other than vague directions." Marco sighed. "But good news, even if we don't find them...Carnegie's gonna have an easier time moving in..." he sighed. "So we'll get paid that way, I guess. How are you holding up aside from the bumpy roads?"

"I'm sure the Merchantile Captains are positively thrilled at their prospects." Mila stole a glance at the man from the side of her eyes as she contemplated ordering something. "I'm sure tonight will be quiet, just as I like it." She chuckled after another sip, "And how about you, Mr. Miles? I'm sure you're eager to find something useful."

[Danceria]

"Well, no more information on the Sleeth other than vague directions." Marco sighed. "But good news, even if we don't find them...Carnegie's gonna have an easier time moving in..." he sighed. "So we'll get paid that way, I guess. How are you holding up aside from the bumpy roads?"

"I'm sure the Merchantile Captains are positively thrilled at their prospects." Mila stole a glance at the man from the side of her eyes as she contemplated ordering something. "I'm sure tonight will be quiet, just as I like it." She chuckled after another sip, "And how about you, Mr. Miles? I'm sure you're eager to find something useful."

"Moreso hopin' that these Sleeth are real. Jus' cuz ya want a clean slate don't mean ya gotta smash everything related to the past. How else are we gonna learn from our mistakes?" he chuckled. "Besides, makes some of our lives a helluva lot easier. Your Ladyship didn't 'ave to walk as much with Catty bein' the part time packmule." This was of course typical interaction between the rough and tumble militiaman and the enigmatic and nocturnal woman. From what he could deduce, she was far too cultivated to be another run-of-the-mill merc. But she was very...elusive. Pensive. Secretive.

Thankfully, Marco was far too curious for his own good sometimes. "Whaddya think, Mort? You think the Sleeth aren't just some old scrapper's tale?"

[Bingellia]

"Moreso hopin' that these Sleeth are real. Jus' cuz ya want a clean slate don't mean ya gotta smash everything related to the past. How else are we gonna learn from our mistakes?" he chuckled. "Besides, makes some of our lives a helluva lot easier. Your Ladyship didn't 'ave to walk as much with Catty bein' the part time packmule." This was of course typical interaction between the rough and tumble militiaman and the enigmatic and nocturnal woman. From what he could deduce, she was far too cultivated to be another run-of-the-mill merc. But she was very...elusive. Pensive. Secretive.

Thankfully, Marco was far too curious for his own good sometimes. "Whaddya think, Mort? You think the Sleeth aren't just some old scrapper's tale?"

"The bots are certainly useful, I won't deny that, but removing Cat's voice modulator would certainly alleviate a few headaches." The annoyed emphasis betrayed an otherwise grateful tone. It went without saying that Mila wasn't fond of long marches on foot even with a decent set of boots, and Marco certainly wasn't afraid of teasing the woman about that fact. "I think they exist. We have surely seen enough to be open-minded to all possibilities of life."

"Of course, helping travelers is certainly a noble cause," She paused as she turned to look at the scruffy bot herder, "but I would be skeptical of them if the rumors about their technology turns out to be true." She couldn't help half-smiling at the man across from her. His way of smelling profit in the air has kept her fed for the past weeks. Perhaps, she had to admit to herself, this expedition would be wildly successful after all.

[Danceria]

"The bots are certainly useful, I won't deny that, but removing Cat's voice modulator would certainly alleviate a few headaches." The annoyed emphasis betrayed an otherwise grateful tone. It went without saying that Mila wasn't fond of long marches on foot even with a decent set of boots, and Marco certainly wasn't afraid of teasing the woman about that fact. "I think they exist. We have surely seen enough to be open-minded to all possibilities of life."

"Of course, helping travelers is certainly a noble cause," She paused as she turned to look at the scruffy bot herder, "but I would be skeptical of them if the rumors about their technology turns out to be true." She couldn't help half-smiling at the man across from her. His way of smelling profit in the air has kept her fed for the past weeks. Perhaps, she had to admit to herself, this expedition would be wildly successful after all.

"I could always shut 'im off, but I'd reckon he'd not only have terrible bedside manner...but be physical 'bout it to." he chuckled and dug into his dinner. "All signs seem ta' point to it, Seekers don' just go an' die all by their lonesome. Which brings my next worry..." he washed the pork down with his ale. "That they'll have better kit than us, more than Catty or m'self can handle. Which is why I've been butterin' up the townsfolk, in case the Sleeth figure to take hostages, or start killin', or just straight up deny all visitors! We'll get paid, jus' not directly then..." he sighed. "As much as I'd like ta' hope they'd be open ta' business, Seekers don't exactly sell themselves well. Wouldn't blame 'em for adoptin' a "shoot first, ask questions later"."

A look of concern would form about Marco's thoughtful gaze, picking at his meal.

[Harbertia]

"The bots are certainly useful, I won't deny that, but removing Cat's voice modulator would certainly alleviate a few headaches." The annoyed emphasis betrayed an otherwise grateful tone. It went without saying that Mila wasn't fond of long marches on foot even with a decent set of boots, and Marco certainly wasn't afraid of teasing the woman about that fact. "I think they exist. We have surely seen enough to be open-minded to all possibilities of life."

"Of course, helping travelers is certainly a noble cause," She paused as she turned to look at the scruffy bot herder, "but I would be skeptical of them if the rumors about their technology turns out to be true." She couldn't help half-smiling at the man across from her. His way of smelling profit in the air has kept her fed for the past weeks. Perhaps, she had to admit to herself, this expedition would be wildly successful after all.

"I could always shut 'im off, but I'd reckon he'd not only have terrible bedside manner...but be physical 'bout it to." he chuckled and dug into his dinner. "All signs seem ta' point to it, Seekers don' just go an' die all by their lonesome. Which brings my next worry..." he washed the pork down with his ale. "That they'll have better kit than us, more than Catty or m'self can handle. Which is why I've been butterin' up the townsfolk, in case the Sleeth figure to take hostages, or start killin', or just straight up deny all visitors! We'll get paid, jus' not directly then..." he sighed. "As much as I'd like ta' hope they'd be open ta' business, Seekers don't exactly sell themselves well. Wouldn't blame 'em for adoptin' a "shoot first, ask questions later"."

A look of concern would form about Marco's thoughtful gaze, picking at his meal.

The Albino woman, her pale red eyes having landed on Marco picking at his meal with a look of concern, her white hair down to her shoulders came over rather quickly; "Is everything good here?" she asked. She was wearing a leather apron and had a grey T-Shirt on.

[Bingellia]

"I could always shut 'im off, but I'd reckon he'd not only have terrible bedside manner...but be physical 'bout it to." he chuckled and dug into his dinner. "All signs seem ta' point to it, Seekers don' just go an' die all by their lonesome. Which brings my next worry..." he washed the pork down with his ale. "That they'll have better kit than us, more than Catty or m'self can handle. Which is why I've been butterin' up the townsfolk, in case the Sleeth figure to take hostages, or start killin', or just straight up deny all visitors! We'll get paid, jus' not directly then..." he sighed. "As much as I'd like ta' hope they'd be open ta' business, Seekers don't exactly sell themselves well. Wouldn't blame 'em for adoptin' a "shoot first, ask questions later"."

A look of concern would form about Marco's thoughtful gaze, picking at his meal.

The Albino woman, her pale red eyes having landed on Marco picking at his meal with a look of concern, her white hair down to her shoulders came over rather quickly; "Is everything good here?" she asked. She was wearing a leather apron and had a grey T-Shirt on.

"We will endure, Mr. Miles." Mila's cup struck the bar with a dull thunk as she finished her drink, "I have seen you barter the very last grain of rice a farmer was willing to give for a fresh cut of meat." "Moreover," she continued as she twisted her signet ring, "if they weren't willing to trade, these rumors about their benevolence towards traders and travelers would not be so wide-spread."

Mila turned to the albino, adjusting her hat as she stood to stretch her legs. "It's nothing concern yourself greatly with, he's worried about business. Perhaps a stronger drink would be in order for my friend." She paused for a second as she debated to continue, but decided to elaborate slightly. "We're merchants, and he's worried about our expedition."

[Harbertia]

The Albino woman, her pale red eyes having landed on Marco picking at his meal with a look of concern, her white hair down to her shoulders came over rather quickly; "Is everything good here?" she asked. She was wearing a leather apron and had a grey T-Shirt on.

"We will endure, Mr. Miles." Mila's cup struck the bar with a dull thunk as she finished her drink, "I have seen you barter the very last grain of rice a farmer was willing to give for a fresh cut of meat." "Moreover," she continued as she twisted her signet ring, "if they weren't willing to trade, these rumors about their benevolence towards traders and travelers would not be so wide-spread."

Mila turned to the albino, adjusting her hat as she stood to stretch her legs. "It's nothing concern yourself greatly with, he's worried about business. Perhaps a stronger drink would be in order for my friend." She paused for a second as she debated to continue, but decided to elaborate slightly. "We're merchants, and he's worried about our expedition."

The woman nodded and made her way to the glasses to get some liquid courage for Marco. She returned with a black beer which she sat with a smile in front of Marco. She glanced back over to Mila; "Are ya'll heading north?"

[The Empire of Tau]

The flea market, where people of many go about selling their secondhand wares. Vendors yell and visitors buy. The whole ordeal was normal, well...normal by the standards of what is today. There were walking fur-people, androids, mutants, etc.

Bielinski, having traveled north from Salem into Mamon (the current town that he’s in), dodges and moves between the crowds of people - he had no real purpose to be here - more or less this being a point of travel to elsewhere. Florida was his target, or whatever the locals call it nowadays. It was a odd thing to Bielinski that people call the former states as different names. Pennsylvania was now Alllegheney. Why do people after a world-ending event call everything so different? (besides the fact that the Restorationists still call the state’s names normally).

While pushing people aside, Bielinski eye caught someone. It was a doctor of sorts. It been awhile since Bielinski seen a someone of Intelligence - not to say that everyone that Bielinski has met so far is brain-dead. Besides the doctor was a robot, a massive piece of machinery on tracks - painted black. Must be some form of labor-doing bot. The doc was leaning against the bot.

Once in range, Bielinski speaks in a Russian accent, “Hello there, good sir. May I ask for a name?” Bielinski appeared to be healthy pure human male. Fasical, Bielinski had very skinny look - which also translate to his body. He wore round thick glasses that made his eyes look bigger then they are. The brown suit in which he wore was a bit dirty and torn. Heavy rubber boots, black hair, green backpack (do note that there was a hidden sidearm, yet to be declassified). Nothing out of the normal.

[Danceria]

"We will endure, Mr. Miles." Mila's cup struck the bar with a dull thunk as she finished her drink, "I have seen you barter the very last grain of rice a farmer was willing to give for a fresh cut of meat." "Moreover," she continued as she twisted her signet ring, "if they weren't willing to trade, these rumors about their benevolence towards traders and travelers would not be so wide-spread."

Mila turned to the albino, adjusting her hat as she stood to stretch her legs. "It's nothing concern yourself greatly with, he's worried about business. Perhaps a stronger drink would be in order for my friend." She paused for a second as she debated to continue, but decided to elaborate slightly. "We're merchants, and he's worried about our expedition."

"Ya got some good points, Mort. Some good fine points..." he smiled and declined the beverage. "Nah, nah, thank ya much. If you were that eager to try negotiatin' Mort, ya should've jus' asked instead of gettin' me drunk under th' table." He would turn to address the albino woman. "She's right. We're hopin' ta do business with some folk who call themselves "Sleeth". Live out west near Verona, if the map's good. Heard rumors that they got some shiny equipment that Carnegie's interested in tradin' for." he would flash his trademark charming grin at the albino woman. "Are th' rumors true, missy?"

[Harbertia]

The flea market, where people of many go about selling their secondhand wares. Vendors yell and visitors buy. The whole ordeal was normal, well...normal by the standards of what is today. There were walking fur-people, androids, mutants, etc.

Bielinski, having traveled north from Salem into Mamon (the current town that he’s in), dodges and moves between the crowds of people - he had no real purpose to be here - more or less this being a point of travel to elsewhere. Florida was his target, or whatever the locals call it nowadays. It was a odd thing to Bielinski that people call the former states as different names. Pennsylvania was now Alllegheney. Why do people after a world-ending event call everything so different? (besides the fact that the Restorationists still call the state’s names normally).

While pushing people aside, Bielinski eye caught someone. It was a doctor of sorts. It been awhile since Bielinski seen a someone of Intelligence - not to say that everyone that Bielinski has met so far is brain-dead. Besides the doctor was a robot, a massive piece of machinery on tracks - painted black. Must be some form of labor-doing bot. The doc was leaning against the bot.

Once in range, Bielinski speaks in a Russian accent, “Hello there, good sir. May I ask for a name?” Bielinski appeared to be healthy pure human male. Fasical, Bielinski had very skinny look - which also translate to his body. He wore round thick glasses that made his eyes look bigger then they are. The brown suit in which he wore was a bit dirty and torn. Heavy rubber boots, black hair, green backpack (do note that there was a hidden sidearm, yet to be declassified). Nothing out of the normal.

"Otto," the man said nodding his head and departing from the robot's side, "Otto Dock." Otto extended his hand to the fine specimen of apparent intellect before him. Vision perhaps an issue, primitive means of compensating being employed, and his form perhaps fragile in look. But this traveler looked promising. He expected to soon receive the man's name.

"Ya got some good points, Mort. Some good fine points..." he smiled and declined the beverage. "Nah, nah, thank ya much. If you were that eager to try negotiatin' Mort, ya should've jus' asked instead of gettin' me drunk under th' table." He would turn to address the albino woman. "She's right. We're hopin' ta do business with some folk who call themselves "Sleeth". Live out west near Verona, if the map's good. Heard rumors that they got some shiny equipment that Carnegie's interested in tradin' for." he would flash his trademark charming grin at the albino woman. "Are th' rumors true, missy?"

The woman smiled scooting the glass deftly to Morticia, "I ain't been away from here but I hear of them. Don't know how eager they would be to give the tech up- stuff's valuable but I 'ear they be nice." Still smiling she turned her head back towards the Porcine man holding that same smile, "Pa, you been to the Sleeths?" The bowleged Procine man, the skin flaps of his cheeks making his eyes seems smaller at this angle looked briefly over and back to the stove, nodding his eyes on some sausage, "Yep." The albino woman rested her hand on the counter, "They nice folk?" Her pa nodded, "Yep." The woman asked, "They got artifacts?" the man nodded. The albino woman turned back to Marco with the smile, "Ya shouldn't have any problem. When I saw you I figured de food be disapoint'n but when I heard about ya going trading about I figured only someone go'n North would have that look."

[Arkeyana]

CA-7 had been with the company for quite some time, the ancient android having been salvaged from the ruins its tattered body was found in. He had since been rebuilt into a much...heavier chassis, instead of legs, two large treads tore up the ground beneath them wherever he went. Instead of a normal body, his upper torso had been entombed within a massive amalgamation of machinery, the only visible remains of his body being the head that stared out of it's cage-like layer of armor with glowing red optics. He had been...retracted, during the time the group of people he was with were stopped here, yet a new voice talking that Otto responded to snapped him out of it. Among a hiss of hydraulics and a whir of old servos, CA-7, or "Catty" as everyone else seemed to call him, rotated his torso to face this newcomer, of course raising his arm to avoid smacking Otto. Red optics stared out of the armor, giving no sign of emotion as he studied them.

[The Empire of Tau]

"Otto," the man said nodding his head and departing from the robot's side, "Otto Dock." Otto extended his hand to the fine specimen of apparent intellect before him. Vision perhaps an issue, primitive means of compensating being employed, and his form perhaps fragile in look. But this traveler looked promising. He expected to soon receive the man's name.

“Good to you meet you, Otto Dock and Catty,” Bielinski said, eyeing the man and robot at hand. Bielinski knew from this point on - some form of ludicrous and odd adventure awaits him. A gut feeling. “The name is Bielinski...So, what are you two doing here? If I may ask,” Bielinski reaches out his left hand for a shake.

[Bingellia]

[
The woman smiled scooting the glass deftly to Morticia, "I ain't been away from here but I hear of them. Don't know how eager they would be to give the tech up- stuff's valuable but I 'ear they be nice." Still smiling she turned her head back towards the Porcine man holding that same smile, "Pa, you been to the Sleeths?" The bowleged Procine man, the skin flaps of his cheeks making his eyes seems smaller at this angle looked briefly over and back to the stove, nodding his eyes on some sausage, "Yep." The albino woman rested her hand on the counter, "They nice folk?" Her pa nodded, "Yep." The woman asked, "They got artifacts?" the man nodded. The albino woman turned back to Marco with the smile, "Ya shouldn't have any problem. When I saw you I figured de food be disapoint'n but when I heard about ya going trading about I figured only someone go'n North would have that look."

Morticia faintly smiled at the albino woman, taking the glass as she sat back in her seat. Deciding not to comment on the women's information, she drank a mouthful of the brown brew and found it to be much more bitter than the pale ale she had with her meal. It seemed a little bit crude as well, yet it wasn't appalling to the women's palate either.

[Harbertia]

"Otto," the man said nodding his head and departing from the robot's side, "Otto Dock." Otto extended his hand to the fine specimen of apparent intellect before him. Vision perhaps an issue, primitive means of compensating being employed, and his form perhaps fragile in look. But this traveler looked promising. He expected to soon receive the man's name.

“Good to you meet you, Otto Dock and Catty,” Bielinski said, eyeing the man and robot at hand. Bielinski knew from this point on - some form of ludicrous and odd adventure awaits him. A gut feeling. “The name is Bielinski...So, what are you two doing here? If I may ask,” Bielinski reaches out his left hand for a shake.

Otto shook the hand once firmly with quick release, "I am serving as a medical practitioner on an expedition aimed at scouting the region for trade hubs. I have no idea where we are heading off to next as the driver of this expedition has been collecting information from the locals. As I'm not needed for such a task I have remained with the wagons."

[The Empire of Tau]

Otto shook the hand once firmly with quick release, "I am serving as a medical practitioner on an expedition aimed at scouting the region for trade hubs. I have no idea where we are heading off to next as the driver of this expedition has been collecting information from the locals. As I'm not needed for such a task I have remained with the wagons."

Bielinski shakes and releases. "Well, mind if I join you? I'm curious about your travels and purpose, among other reasons. What you say?"

[Harbertia]

Otto shook the hand once firmly with quick release, "I am serving as a medical practitioner on an expedition aimed at scouting the region for trade hubs. I have no idea where we are heading off to next as the driver of this expedition has been collecting information from the locals. As I'm not needed for such a task I have remained with the wagons."

Bielinski shakes and releases. "Well, mind if I join you? I'm curious about your travels and purpose, among other reasons. What you say?"

"It is not with in my authority to accept your offer. I have no objection however you will need to ask the expedition's leader or second in command for admittance. They are presently at the Gilded Goose," Otto pointed towards the tavern, "a local establishment. You may wait for them here or seek to address them there." a lot of the venders where closing shop as it was dusk.

[The Empire of Tau]

"It is not with in my authority to accept your offer. I have no objection however you will need to ask the expedition's leader or second in command for admittance. They are presently at the Gilded Goose," Otto pointed towards the tavern, "a local establishment. You may wait for them here or seek to address them there." a lot of the vendors where closing shop as it was dusk.

“The Gilded Goose, huh?” Bielinski looks about, vendors pack up and people start to thin out. The local tavern seems to be the only thing that appears to be alive with business. “Mind if you lead me to them?” Bielinski had no reference upon what the hell did the expedition's leader looked like - so it must be better to simply ask for a guide.

[Harbertia]

"It is not with in my authority to accept your offer. I have no objection however you will need to ask the expedition's leader or second in command for admittance. They are presently at the Gilded Goose," Otto pointed towards the tavern, "a local establishment. You may wait for them here or seek to address them there." a lot of the vendors where closing shop as it was dusk.

“The Gilded Goose, huh?” Bielinski looks about, vendors pack up and people start to thin out. The local tavern seems to be the only thing that appears to be alive with business. “Mind if you lead me to them?” Bielinski had no reference upon what the hell did the expedition's leader looked like - so it must be better to simply ask for a guide.

Otto looked up towards Catty's visual sensors briefly, confident that the unit is fully capable of watching the wagons before turning back to Bielinski, with a nod "I shall do so. Though I shall not make the introductions." Otto motioned with a curled finger for Bielinski to follow, "I'm not expected to recruit others for the expedition and taking such initiative is outside my role in this endeavor. The approval or disapproval of your request is not a decision I can influence and as we have only just met I lack an awareness of your character from which to advocate for your enrollment in this expedition." They continued to walk the distance before reaching the threshold, doc pointed to the bar where only a couple (Morticia and Marco) sat. At the other tables where 9 others but that amount was growing, "At the bar, those two. The man is the leader, and the woman the second. You may refer to him as Mr. Miles in your introduction." said Otto glancing to see if this was satisfactory.

[The Empire of Tau]

Otto looked up towards Catty's visual sensors briefly, confident that the unit is fully capable of watching the wagons before turning back to Bielinski, with a nod "I shall do so. Though I shall not make the introductions." Otto motioned with a curled finger for Bielinski to follow, "I'm not expected to recruit others for the expedition and taking such initiative is outside my role in this endeavor. The approval or disapproval of your request is not a decision I can influence and as we have only just met I lack an awareness of your character from which to advocate for your enrollment in this expedition." They continued to walk the distance before reaching the threshold, doc pointed to the bar where only a couple (Morticia and Marco) sat. At the other tables where 9 others but that amount was growing, "At the bar, those two. The man is the leader, and the woman the second. You may refer to him as Mr. Miles in your introduction." said Otto glancing to see if this was satisfactory.

At the bar, Bielinski nods. He walks up to the two in the behind. “Mr. Miles. My name is Bielinski. I would like to join you in your small expedition.”