The Wastes

[DeletedUser25825]

The Setting

I won't be providing back-story on this one folks. Just going to present it as it is. The game is set post apocalypse. Nobody can really say what exactly drove people underground, other than referring to it as the time of troubles, it's too far back in history. Over that time, knowledge is lost, things have been forgotten, technological advancement ground to a standstill, and even reverted back to basics. The game of life is merely survive. Several generations of people have since tried their go on the surface, which is at its most basic level, a desert wasteland. The people have gathered together in expansive city states. These are large living areas, generally located around a water source, that are constructed of massive metal planks. There is of course danger within the walls. They're all governed by whomever has the power to do so. There are several despots, who enjoy lording over the sorry inhabitants, but others are harmonious. At least, that's the rumor. You, as a character, are not located in the rumored city state named Utopia. You had the unlucky lot of being born to the population of a severely militaristic city state called Pratt's Haven. Mechanization is nearly unheard of here, or anywhere for that matter. The leader, Pratt, has leashed the power of the generator. It is by this, that he lords over the people of his city state. Artificial lighting at night, and the added protection of exterior walls that have tremendous amounts of voltage coursing through them, is very comforting. The price is unquestioning loyalty to Pratt and his minions. Those that are disloyal, are simply executed or banned to the wastes, their choice.

The wastes, that desert as far as the eye can see that surrounding the city states, is just barely worse than Pratt's Haven. First off, it's desert, and that means no water (the most sought after commodity since people started climbing above ground). There are other dangers in the form of; roving bands of thugs who prey upon anybody not within city states (or even the city states themselves if they think they can be taken), wild animals that have experienced their own form of evolution since the time of troubles, people that are still afraid to come above ground and will desperately defend out of xenophobic hysteria, and the unknown of course. There are few maps of the existing landscapes, and fewer who can understand them. Whatever the time of troubles was, it severely altered the world as it was known. Generally, city states are known to be out there, but few attempt the trek, and fewer return. There are a brave few, who join the rare trade caravan to another city state, an extremely dangerous journey. There are others who laughingly go in search of whatever it is they do. Some say these folks just go crazy and wander, others get some belief that they'll find some ancient technology that will make things better, and others just figure the answers are out there and not to be found behind the safety of the walls. Whatever the case, those people don't come back, and are mostly forgotten other than the message of don't go out there if you value life.

Overall, it's bleak folks. If you'd like to give it a go, I urge you to read up on the following information and create your character. I don't think you'll regret it. You know my OP style well enough to know what to expect from me. Thanks for the interest, and let's have a good time.

The Rules

Every game needs them. Forum and section rules apply as always. No god mode (Invincibility, or action beyond your character's ability), no meta-gaming (using posted game knowledge by your character who would have no reason to know), no killing player characters without previous approval by the character's owner & OP, no more than one character per player (except for OP, for continuation of the story dynamic and direction with an indication that the character is a non-player character). This story is OP driven, meaning I'm going to be watching the threads to ensure continuity and staying within rule perimeters. If there is something questionable, I will notify you politely what I find questionable via IM, and hopefully we can come to a mutually accepted edit to the thread. I am also asking that no encounters that require combat for resolution be initiated by any player, without OP approval via PM. There will be plenty of action involved in this story, so you shouldn't be required to start your own.

The sheet system

I like to think this is a simpler version of my normal sheet creation process. Attributes and Skills will be broken down into Primary (P), Secondary (S), and Tertiary (T) ratings. A Primary skill should be chosen for the main focus of your character. This is the thing your character excels at. Secondaries? They represent your character possesses some training, and can be considered to be moving toward true skill in the act. Tertiary skills are just that. They don't lock in who your character is, but can still be very useful to possess.

ATTRIBUTES

Starting with Attributes, as before, there will be Physical, Social, and Mental attributes. I'm doing away with Appearance as part of the social, because it never seems to come into question. I am replacing that with Presence, or the overall impression you make on old and new acquaintances. The attribute system is easy. Each attribute is broken into three categories as follows:

PHYSICAL -> Strength, Dexterity, Stamina
SOCIAL -> Charisma, Manipulation, Presence
MENTAL -> Perception, Intelligence, Wits

Your character will excel in some things, and need improvement in others. To reflect that, each sub-category within a main attribute needs to be rated. (P), (S), or (T). Once you've rated a sub-category as something, you can't rate the other two sub-categories the same way. For example, my character is going to be a bull headed pit fighter. I would rate the attributes as follows:

PHYSICAL -> Strength (P), Dexterity (T), Stamina (S)
SOCIAL -> Charisma (S), Manipulation (T), Presence (P)
MENTAL -> Perception (S), Intelligence (T), Wits (P)

All of that up there basically reflects a strong fellow, who is well known and respected, and who reacts quickly to perceived things. He can go for longer bouts, and doesn't usually say the wrong thing in any given situation, and generally sees the hidden dangers during fights. He's slower moving in the pit than most (because he relies on his strength and stamina), doesn't try to manipulate people for his advantage, and isn't the smartest person walking around. I think you get the idea.

SKILLS

The Skills system has changed slightly... I've listed several that I thought would be appropriate to this setting, and under each main category you will find sub-categories. If you see a (P) or an (S) behind a skill or sub-category, that means it requires either a primary or secondary expenditure to be able to utilize that skill with your character. As always, if you can think of a skill I don't have here, you have but ask and I'll be happy to deny... er... allow the request (if it falls within the perimeters of the setting). Here's the list...

Academics

Art, Literacy (Reading and writing a specific language), Linguistics, History (S), Law, Religion (S), Research, Culture, Geography

Crafts

Mechanics (P), Jury-Rig, Sewing, Metal Smith (S), Armor Smith (S), Gun Smith (P), Weapon Smith (S), Carpentry (S), Pottery, Cooking, Bowery, Carving

Investigation

Artifacts (S), Crime Scenes (S), Puzzles, Riddles

Medicine

Emergency Care (S), Apothecary (P)

Science

Biology (P), Alchemy (P), Geology (S), Metallurgy (S), Electrical Workings (P)

Athletics

Acrobatics, Climbing, Throwing, Jumping, Long Distance Running

Larceny

Palming, Lock-Picking (S), Pick-Pocketing, Security (Keeping things safe with people and traps), Trap Disarming (S), Safe-cracking (S), Games

Stealth

Camouflage, Crowds, Surroundings, Moving Silently

Survival

Foraging, Navigation, Shelter, Tracking, Hunting, Camping

Empathy

Emotions, Detect Lies, Motives, Personalities, Body Language

Intimidation

Bluster, Physical Threats, Stare-Down, Torture, Veiled Threats, Shout Down

Persuasion

Fast-Talk, Inspiration, Haggling, Motivation, Sales Pitch, Seduction

Streetwise

Black Market, Gangs, Rumors

Subterfuge

Conning, Concealing Emotions, Lying, Misdirection, Disguises

Specialized

Wagon driving (S), Ballista Operation (S), Animal Herding (S), Agriculture (S)

COMBAT

Last, but not least, there will be combat in this setting. Humans have been set back in the technological evolution aspects, so things have become a lot more basic. Firearms from the ancients are now unheard of, and only remembered as legendary wonders by a select few historians. The knowledge of their creation has been completely lost. The basics of gunpowder are present, and the earliest versions of weapons using that powerful, yet unpredictable powder, are beginning to emerge amongst the most trained of the survivors. Those formidable warriors who have been chosen to possess the rudimentary firearms spend countless hours trying to perfect their skill, and are therefor required to pick one specific black powder weapon as their primary skill allotment in combat. The Grenado is the only exception to this rule. It takes a little amount of skill to wield these rudimentary, highly unstable, throwing weapons. They're also conceivably anybody can possess them. Just remember, they're as likely to blow up in your hand, as they are where you intend on them blowing up. Otherwise, humans have fallen back on the hack-bash-n-slash methods of their ancient, ancient anscestors. Again, the combat skills are broken down in the same manner as the other skills. Because this is a harsh world, most all humans have some manner of rudimentary combat skills. To reflect this, and should you choose to take a combat technique, you get one main choice. Brawl, Melee, Thrown, Ranged, or Black Powder Items. After you choose your main combat technique, except black powder items, you may choose three sub-categories within the technique to reflect what you are very proficient with to attack or defend with.

For example, my pit fighter, he is going to be a Melee fighter in the pit. So, I chose Melee as my combat technique. He is a hulking pit fighter, who relies on brute strength, so the three sub-categories I chose are Club, Single Weapon, and Two Handed Fighting. My pit fighter carries an oversized mattock to beat his opponents with.

If you want to use other weapons, fighting styles, or main combat techniques that's fine. You'll have to use your other Skill allotments to do so. I can hear you already saying, "So... Sam. I COULD conceivably take the black powder pistol as my combat skill, and THEN spend my Primary skill point in Melee technique and take three more sub-categories out of that?" Absolutely... just remember... it's going to narrow the rest of your skill set as a character. Here is the list of combat techniques and sub-categories.

Brawl

Blocking, Boxing, Dirty Tricks, Grappling, Throws

Melee

Improvised Weapons, Knives, Swords, Axes, Clubs, Flails, Pole Arms, Whips, Staves, Single Weapon, Two-Handed Weapons, Weapon/Shield Style, Two Weapon Style

Thrown

Throwing Knives, Bolas, Chakram, Atlatl, Javelin, Spear

Ranged

Sling, Short Bow, Long Bow, Crossbow (S), Grenado (S)

Black Powder Items

Black Powder Pistol (P), Arquebus (P), Blunderbuss (P), Cannon (P)

THE NITTY GRITTY

Ok, you have the basic jist of the sheet. Now, here's the deal of what you get to start with. The attributes are simple. Each main attribute breaks into three sub-attributes and you rank them in matter of importance. Done.

Now, I have two offers for your character from here on out.

Option One: You get 1 Combat Technique to choose from, 1 Primary skill to pick, 2 Secondary skills to pick, and 9 Tertiary skills to pick. When choosing your PRIMARY skill, you choose the main skill category, and then three sub-categories within, unless the sub-category is by itself a Primary skill, in which case you're only getting that one primary sub-category skill, and no extras. The SECONDARY skill choices work in a similar manner. You choose a main skill set as your secondary skill, and choose two sub-categories within that set. Conversely, if you REALLY wanted to be proficient in a main skill, in which you already took as a primary skill, you could purchase two more sub-categories as secondary skills. Again, if a sub-category is listed as a secondary skill already, you'll need to select that one sub-category only. The nine TERTIARY skills can be used to select any of the sub-category skills (that aren't already listed as primary or secondary skills). My only other caveat with this option is; if you want to be using black powder items, you have to choose this option.

Option Two: You don't choose a combat technique. In return, you are allotted 2 Primary Skills, 3 Secondary Skills, and 12 Tertiary Skills. They're spent in a similar manner as Option One, except you can't choose a Combat technique as a primary choice (which means no black powder items)

So here's my last example as my pit fighter, with everything being taken into account.

Name: Griff
Age, Gender: 22, Male
Description: Griff is 6'4, weighs 290, and is a pure mass of scar covered muscles. He wears leather breaches and a vest.
Biography: Griff grew up as a slave of a pit manager. He was thrust into the life of entertaining the masses through bloodshed and pain at an early age. He lives a glorious life at the moment, but it's only because he wins.
Equipment: Shoulder plate armor, clothing, large mattock

Attributes: PHYSICAL: Strength (P), Dexterity (S), Stamina (T). SOCIAL: Charisma (S), Manipulation (T), Presence (P). MENTAL: Perception (S), Intelligence (T), Wits (P).

Skills: INTIMIDATION; Bluster (P), Stare Down (P), Shout Down (P). BRAWL; Grappling (S), Throw (S). MELEE; Swords (S), Axes (S). Carving (T), Riddles (T), Puzzles (T), Climbing (T), Jumping (T), Throwing (T), Long Distance Running (T), Games (T), Veiled Threats (T), Lying (T), Dirty Tricks (T), Knives (T)

Combat: MELEE; Club (P), Single Weapon (P), Two-Handed Weapon Style (P).

So... that's that. Make your character if you're interested in joining. Thanks! Look forward to the story with ya'll.

 

[DeletedUser28032]

(OOC: Ok i think i've done it right, though i am sure someone will tell if i haven't)

Name: Gabriel
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Description: 5”10 with a slim athletic build, Olive skin tone, medium length black hair and dark green eyes. Dressed in a hand sewn black leather jacket (Think waistcoat with sleeves attached using loose rawhide stitching), white shirt, dark grey trousers and a pair of heavily scarred black leather gloves, both his Chakram and Knife hang from a black leather belt around his waist. On the underside of his right wrist there is a small red tattoo, usually covered by the gloves that he wears.

Biography: Born in the lower levels of the city and placed within the dubious care of an orphanage at a very young age, Gabriel grew up on the streets with only the dimmest of memories of his parents; even his name was given to him by the priest that ran the orphanage.
Upon leaving the orphanage he spent much his early life with the Lost Boys one of the many gangs that plague the lower levels of the city, fighting and thieving to survive. Like most of the Lost Boys lucky enough to live to their teens he quickly learnt that it was often far smarter to run than to fight although life on streets taught him some skills with both a knife and his personal favourite the Chakram now a constant and deadly companion where ever he goes. Despite these skills there was many a time when he had been forced to flee the city guards across twisting rooftops and through narrow alleyways in order to escape with his ill gotten gains, making death defying leaps that would have stopped others in their tracks.
It was a skill that he never lost even now his chosen career still forces him take some of the more riskier escape routes when things go wrong, other times it merely allows him to gain access to places that others believed to be impossible.
He had been around seventeen when he finally decided to go freelance after having the sudden epiphany that rather than picking pockets and cutting purses and then having to run for his life all over a few measly pennies, that he could get people to give him what he wanted, all it required was a little bit of persuasion and a few props; a fake map to Utopia, a counterfeit artefact, the promise of great riches, all of it could be used to con the desperate and the greedy alike into giving him what he desired including the charms of a beautiful lady should he desire it. Best of all, many of his victims didn’t realise that they had been tricked until it was far too late and by then not only had Gabriel fenced the item using his old gang connections but would have a new name and face and as for those rare occasions when it didn’t work out that way… well…he could still run pretty fast.
It was through his wheeling and dealing that he learnt much of his knowledge despite being only semi-literate, although it was in his specialisation in the artefacts of the old ones that he has most excelled, allowing him to produce passable fakes and recognise authentic items for what they truly are on the rare occasions that they surface, allowing him to “Acquire” them for high paying clients, though one day Gabriel hopes to find something truly amazing with which to rival Pratt’s hold on the city.
Until that day arrives he will remain the anonymous face on the street offering people deals too good to be true and then disappearing into the crowds before anyone’s the wiser.

Equipment: Stiletto blade, Chakram (approx 10” Dia), Lock picks, two headed coin, Climbing Spikes

Attributes: PHYSICAL: Strength (T), Dexterity (P), Stamina (S).
SOCIAL: Charisma (P), Manipulation (S), Presence (T).
MENTAL: Perception (P), Intelligence (T), Wits (S).

Skills:
Primary: Athletics Acrobatics (P), Climbing (T), Jumping (S)
Subterfuge Conning (P), Lying (T), Disguises (S)

Secondary: Lock picking (S)
Stealth: Crowds(S), Moving Silently(S)
Artefacts(S)

Tertiary: Chakram, Palming, Knives, Gangs, Fast Talk, Jury-Rig, Pick Pocketing, Navigation, Seduction, Geography, Cooking, Body Language.

 

[DeletedUser]

Name: Elias

Age, Gender: 24, Male

Description: A short man of 5'11, he wears earthy colors during the daytime and black clothing at night, better to mask his activities.

Biography: Men do what they have to. In a harsh world, youth is no promise of opportunity, ability is. Elias was one of those children with certain abilities that made him useful. Elias'es father tried desperately to mask his son's abilities from the prying eyes of strangers who might tell Pratt or one of the men charged with finding new recruits. To no avail.

Elias'es mother had cried the day some of Pratt's men showed up to take their now 10 year old son away. From that day on Elias'es skills were fine tuned by hard faced men with scraggly beards that concealed scars and broken teeth. He was taught all he knows, his abilities were fostered and put to the right direction.

At the end of his training, eight years after the day he had been taken, Elias could use any ranged weapon there was. He was particularly skilled with long bows, however crossbows were his main weapon because they bit deeply into even the strongest of armor. Now, after six years of doing Pratt's dirty work, Elias is starting to question what it was all for.

Equipment: Elias uses two one handed crossbows, each outfitted with wicked tips on either end of the lathe, sharp enough to bring down on a skull, or across a throat. A short bow is sat cross a longbow which protrudes over his right shoulder. Across his back, he carries a triple quiver, one filled with arrows long enough to be fitted into his longbow, another filled with average sized arrows, and the other with bolts, for his crossbows. The arrows themselves are fitted with arrowheads made of sheered off metal that pulled flesh out with them, topped by color coded fletching that dictated whether they were poisonous or not.

Attributes:
PHYSICAL-> Dexterity (P), Stamina (S), Strength (T).
SOCIAL-> Charisma (P), Presence (S), Manipulation (T).
MENTAL-> Intelligence (P), Perception (S), Wits (T).


Primary: STEALTH; Moving silently (P), Crowds (P), Surroundings (P)
Secondary: LARCENY; Lockpicking (S)
Secondery: INTIMIDATION; Stare Down (S), Veiled Threats (S)
Tertiary: Bowery, Climbing, Security, Tracking, Fast Talk, Rumors, Lying, Disguise, Improvised Weapons

Combat: Ranged

Sling, Short Bow, Long Bow, Crossbow (S), Grenado (S)

 

[DeletedUser13682]

Name: James Forge
Age: 35
Gender: Male
Description: A typical blacksmith build, constantly has soot on his exposed parts, wears heavy clothing with leather smock and gloves, heavy boots.
Biography: The son of the blacksmithing family Forge, named for the job they had held for centuries, well as long as Pratt's City State existed. As was traditional, James was trained in forging techniques and all sorts of metalwork. He could make a good sturdy piece of armour from the remains of cars, swords and shields from springs and thsoe small building things with farm equipment in them, and various other things, like luxury cups and plates. When he was 19, he had to prove himself an expert blacksmith. Traditionally, his family had made swords most exquisite to present to the judge, but young James had found his father's experimental plans, and made it. With the help of his chemist and carpenter friends, James presented to the judge the first Forge arquebus. The judge was impressed, obviously, and commissioned the arquebus design for ten first runs. The Forge arquebus has been improved over the years, including a cover to protect the wick from rain. James's mission at the moment is to perfect a wheellock mechanism to revolutionize the infant world of firearms. This fascination has meant that James has trained little with swords, asking other people to try them out because he cannot. Though he is a pretty good aim with his arquebuses. Even though this shortcoming has hampered some people, the poeple who want real quality and elegence go to Forge forge for their needs, both martial and civil.
Equipment: The forger's clothing, the family forge, tools for forging, scrap metals needed for forging, designs for weapons and such, arquebus of latest Forge design.

Attributes: PHYSICAL: Strength (T), Dexterity (P), Stamina (S). SOCIAL: Charisma (P), Manipulation (T), Presence (S) MENTAL: Perception (S), Intelligence (P), Wits (T).

Skills: Primary: Gun Smith
Secondary : Armor Smith, Weapon Smith
Tertiary: Jury Rig, Haggle, Sales Pitch, Black Market, Motives, Literacy, Research, Inspiration, Misdirection
Combat: Arquebus

 

[Deleted User - 819397]

(I believe I get this now...correct me if I'm wrong

Name: Lucas Nanden
Age, Gender: 18, Male
Description: Slight, wiry, 6'0, blond hair, gold eyes. Usually wearing some sort of cloak, other clothing nondescript.
Biography: Lucas was born into poverty, as most of humanity is nowadays. However, from an early age he proved to be bright, brighter than most. As such, his parents scavenged what books they could for him to read from. However, when his parents were put up for promotion when he was 12, a jealous co-worker told Pratt that they were trying to overthrow him (a lie). However, his parents were executed, but by the time a Priest came around to collect Lucas, he had run away. He found shelter in an abandoned library that contained books upon books for him to read (nothing from the "ancients" of course, but more modern material). He soon was a master of the sciences, particularly alchemy and biology, with a firm grasp in metallurgy. From there it was a short hop to learning about medicines, and he soon excelled in that field as well.

At the age of 16 he reopened the library as a double hospital and alchemy laboratory. Despite his age, sick or hurt people came to him for care, as kindness was in short supply in Pratt's domain. The building works under the radar, as Lucas doesn't want any form of government limiting the care he can provide. He provides care to everyone indiscriminantly, and takes whatever kind of payment people are willing to give, or if they have nothing to give he eats the credit. As he never had a major brush with a gang, aside from treating them when they came, he has never needed to wield a weapon, although he has a whip he found when excavating the library, and can use it to a limited degree. His dealings with the unsavory types let him know about some of the going-ons in the city.

Lucas is a guy with a heart of gold, and wishes nothing more than to ease the pain and suffering that the world has so much of. He conducts his experiments in his spare time, attempting to find new alloys or perhaps a new formula to aid people. He is close friends with James Forge, as Lucas has the capacity to create the metals James needs to work his craft. Whenever asked why he acts so much older than his age, he states that the world won't change unless the younger generations do their best to improve it. He often wears a cloak for reasons he has never told anyone.

Equipment: Suitcase containing much of his supplies for his three loves, backup supplies in his cloak's pockets, whip.



PHYSICAL -> Strength (T), Dexterity (P), Stamina(S) SOCIAL -> Charisma (P), Manipulation (T), Presence (S) MENTAL -> Perception (T), Intelligence (P), Wits (S)

Primary: Biology, Alchemy, Metallurgy, Emergency Care
Secondary: Literacy, Research, Cooking, Sewing, Emotions, Body Language
Tertiary: Whips, Inspiration, Motivation, Rumors, Concealing Emotions, Foraging, Security, Long Distance Running, Navigation, Personalities, Detect Lies, Motives.

(sorry for my delay in starting up...been busy)

 

[DeletedUser25825]

"Shame!", was being chanted over and over by the large crowd, which had gathered for the spectacle at the town square. The crowd had been called by Pratt, to witness what happened to those who were deemed undesirables to the continued harmony of Pratt's Haven. The chanting soon grew to a muttered din, as Pratt himself appeared on the balcony of his fortified home. He smiled at the amassed citizens, and raised his arms triumphantly as the crowd screamed in a mixture of exultation and fear. It was all a facade of course, but Pratt blinded himself to the score of longbow armed guards, who had all nocked and drew back arrows, which were now aimed down at the gathered people. Senseless slaughter was not unheard of during these events, and the crowd had quickly learned to stroke the amazing ego Pratt had for himself, in order to avoid the raining death of one of his sharpshooters.

Pratt waved his hands up and down for silence, which he quickly received. He shouted out, "Citizens of the haven! I, your humble leader, have called you forth to hear and understand why the the soon to be assembled people, will forth with be deemed undesirable and receive their just punishments!" The crowd roared its approval. This time it was heartfelt, because there was no worse than failing to support the health of the haven in anybody's eyes. Pratt snapped his fingers and waved toward several guards situated below a large door to his bastion.

The doors were opened, and a line of bedraggled people were escorted out into the center of the town square amidst a barrage of shouts, curses, and thrown objects. The undesirables were arranged in a line facing Pratt, each with an armed guard standing behind them. The order of things was simple. Pratt would accuse them, would ignore their pleas and gesticulations, and ultimately pronounce judgement. If it was execution, it would happen on the spot as an example to the others. If it was casting out, it too would quickly occur.

Pratt looked down at the first person in line, who appeared to be an old man, who looked to be more bones than skin. Pratt pointed at him and shouted, "Thief! You stole from the food stores, and are thereby stealing life from us all! You, therefor, forfeit your life." He nodded to the guard behind the man, who nodded back, stepped up and quickly extinguished the life from the sniveling man. The crowd roared at the bloodshed, screaming out for more.

Pratt looked down at two women, who clutched each others' hands fiercely under the baleful gaze of Pratt. He sneered at them and shouted, "You both were caught selling items that you claim to have found, but are still property of all. Those items were useful to the great wind generator, replacement parts in fact! You wanted to steal the light, and plunge us all into darkness. Sisters in crime... sisters in death." He nodded to the guards behind the women, and with two fell strokes the crowd roared once again.

Pratt looked at the next man in line, and the crowd became uncharacteristically quiet. The man was well known throughout the haven, a behemoth of flesh and muscle, scarred from countless battles in the pit. He was known simply as Griff, and was one of the favorites of the pit. Pratt looked down at the huge man, and said, "Griff. You are a fearsome fighter, and it pains me to see you acting in such a deplorable manner against the people." The gathered crowd looked at each other in askance of the crime, but remained mute, as nobody was quite sure what heinous act earned Griff a place amongst the undesirables. Pratt continued by saying, "Because you have been a warrior your entire life, I grant you your life, to keep or lose in the wastes."

The crowd looked to be on the verge of protest, but the sharpshooters remained vigilant to such uprising, and therefor remained silent as they watched one of their heroes marched away to a caged wagon. As he climbed up into it, the wagon sighed under the weight, and Pratt moved his attention to the next in line.

And so, Pratt moved his attention from each individual to the next. Some were executed on the spot, while others joined Griff in the wagon. Finally, Pratt looked at the last four individuals. He pointed down at Elias, Gabriel, James and Lucas as he said, "You all have been implicated in the theft of materials, destruction of property, and murder of my guards, and more importantly the venerable Sebastian." The crowd railed at the four at news that a very well respected member of the haven had been murdered in such a cowardly manner. Pratt paused, and smiled at the pulse the crowd was presenting.

He looked back at the four, and the smile faded slowly. He proclaimed, "I am very tempted to have you cut down where you stand, however, I feel the suffering you will receive in the wastes will be a much better punishment. Therefor, test your teamwork out there, and plague the fine citizenry of my haven no more!" The crowd roared its approval, as the four undesirables were marched off to the caged wagon, and marched up the steps into it.

As soon as the last undesirable marched into the wagon, the door slammed shut and was locked. The group of eight criminals were seated on rough shod benches, and mostly lost in their own thoughts. The wagon lurched, as large beasts of burden began tugging it toward the only entrance to Pratt's Haven. The crowd marched along, shouting at the inhabitants of the wagon as it slowly ambled toward the unknown. The large creak of the gate opening was heard and the wagon rolled to a stop. The shouting of the crowd continued, as the door was swung open. Blunderbuss armed guards covered the undesirables as they exited the wagon and stood, looking out at the endless desert before them. The desert almost looked alive, due to the heat waves emanating from it, and scorching winds that plagued the sands, and whipped them up into swirls of stinging clouds.

Pratt rolled up in a metal plate covered wagon, and stepped out to the roaring tribulation of the crowd. He looked at the undesirables and then the guards. He proclaimed, "You know what to do men." The guards stepped up, and relieved the undesirables of all equipment, armor, and weapons. Pratt said, "To cast you out defenseless into the wastes would be nothing short of murder. I will, therefor, graciously bestow a knife, and a skin of water to each of you. May whatever that is, have mercy and end your ordeal quickly."

He flicked his chin toward the guards. They all prodded the group forward, and passed a guard who handed each a small blade and a small wineskin filled with water. They all were then escorted out onto the blazing sands. After all had left through the main gate, the guards retreated into the safety of Pratt's Haven, and the door slowly swung shut. Soon, some of the crowd manned the rampart that surrounded the inner wall, and looked down at the undesirables to shout derision and hate, as several of the guards once again manned mighty spear ballista, and swung them to aim down toward the collected group of undesirables.

Griff looked at the assembled group of undesirables, sneered, and gruffly remarked, "You lot aren't going to make it a day out here." As the assembled looked toward him, he stepped up to an older man, calmly reached out, grasped the protesting man's head, and snapped his neck with a violent twist. Griff looked at the others, daring them to challenge him, as he stooped down to pick up the dead man's water and knife. The crowd roared his name over and over, again caught up in the bloodshed of the moment.

Griff began walking off into the desert, and away from the city state.

 

[Deleted User - 819397]

The day had just gone from bad to worse...Lucas had woken up to find himself arrested...now he was exiled for crimes he hadn't even committed. James Forge had been exiled too. Like Lucas, he seemed to be having a hard time believing it, so he kept his distance for now. The guards had let him keep his cloak, and he wasted no time in checking the hidden pockets in it. The first pocket he checked was empty...they had found his needle and gut. The next one was gone too...his matches. The third pocket had his small hammer and chisel in it, meaning he'd still be able to excavate ores from small rocks. The 4th pocket had his bandages tucked safely inside it. Pocket five had his small flask of acid concealed. The sixth one had the disinfectant alcohol, but the seventh one had no salve. With some desperation, he checked the last one to find something he wasn't expecting. Rather than the potion he had been experimenting with, he saw a colorless liquid in the bottle. He concealed it as he drew it out and studied it closely, then his golden eyes widened in shock. He had accidentally created one of the worst alchemical potions he had read about...a plum bob. A soluble lipid, it didn't have to even be ingested, just absorbed through the skin. Once inside the bloodstream, it cut the taker's moral inhibitions off so clean the person wouldn't notice they were gone. It was similar to a person being drunk, but without the lack of clarity. They were just prone to doing something unbelievably stupid or dangerous. Still reeling from this discovery, he quietly tucked the bottle away...better to have something to use than nothing at all.

The crowd seemed to get to Lucas for the first time, and he immediately shrank away...he had grown used to judging emotions and feelings, and the emotions he was receiving were awful. This was then followed by the scarred man, known as Griff, killing another exile just for the supplies. This casual murder stunned Lucas...having dedicated himself to improving life for those in the unfortunate circumstances in the world, the murder was horrifying. He started towards James...he was the only one he recognized...he needed someone he knew was a friend...

(I worked through the items that I still have with Alawa...I just got lucky on some coin tosses )

 

[DeletedUser28032]

He sat in shadows alone with his back to the taverns wall his eyes glued to the door as he waited for the man to arrive, the other patrons paid him no attention, he was just another man in a bar with a clay mug of weak beer before him, not that he'd touched a drop of it since entering the building, he wanted his wits about him for upcoming meeting and besides, past experience told him to avoid the drink in this particular establishment.
The door swung open with a squeak of badly oiled hinges, the dark tavern momentarily lit up by the blazing light outside as the man entered his eyes nervously scanning the room for the man whom he was to meet. Raising his mug from off of the beer stained table Gabriel caught the mans attention, a relieved smile on his face as he walked over to the corner table at which Gabriel sat. "You have the item?" the man asked quietly, he was tall and lanky, with long greasy black hair and a face like a stoat, he easily towered over Gabriel even when sat down and Gabriel didn't trust him any further than he could throw him "I have it and may i say it wasn't an easy item to acquire" Gabriel replied in his smooth, silky voice his hands making no move to retrieve the item nestled within his jacket, its retrieval had been problematic and had required to cons and a risky climb up a sheer sided building, but he'd pulled it all off without being caught. The man took the hint, reaching into a pouch on his belt he slid a small cloth bag across the table to Gabriel who quickly pocketed the money, there was no need to count it Gabriel knew the man wouldn't be foolish enough to try and cheat him and if he was...well it wouldn't take him long to have someone track him down and retrieve the rest of his payment, he knew people...dangerous people who would enjoy nothing more than to stamp the life out of him.
Taking the small cloth wrapped package from out of his jacket Gabriel placed the item on the table in front of the man who eagerly unwrapped the item, his eyes lighting up like those of a child on his birthday upon seeing what was within.
"You have done well my friend...here take this a sign of my appreciation" the ring slid across the tables poorly planed surface to drop into Gabriel’s waiting hand, it was simple gold signet ring with an embossed "S" in the middle, nothing fancy but it would fetch a nice price on the black market "My thanks and now with our business concluded I must take my leave" rising from behind the table Gabriel left the tavern and its dark smoky interior and walked out onto the streets blending in easily with the crowds and disappearing from sight. He would spend the night with one of the girls he knew and then pawn teh ring come the morning, in all the job had been quite lucrative for him although little did he know was that business was far from being over.

He stood blinking in the bright sunlight; his head was still groggy from the beating he had taken the night before, with a pounding skull and split lips he listened to Pratt as he condemned those unfortunate to be stood within the courtyard. a man stood to Gabriel's right was executed for stealing food, his skull split open like an over-ripe melon, a part of Gabriel's brain wondered if he was to share the mans fate the other half meanwhile tried to work out how he had come to be in this place at all.
They had caught him....that was why he was here....he had ran of course, he always ran it was the main reason he had lived as long as he had. he had leapt from the girls bedroom window out into the night to run across the flat corrugated steel roof of the neighbouring building moments before the guards had kicked in the door.
Luckily one of the guards had stepped on a cat as they had approached the girls house, the loud angry screech of protest giving Gabriel enough time to dress before being forced to flee, leaving the money and his knife on the bedside table although thankfully the Chakram had still been on his belt meaning he owuldn't be completely unarmed. Cursing the loss of his money Gabriel leapt the gap between two houses, the shouting and pounding feet of the guards already behind him.
Two men with longbows came running out of teh shadows towards him, notching arrows as they ran, how can this be? They must have been lying in wait Gabriel thought frantically, pirouetting on the spot he jumped from roof moments before the guards released their arrows into the night.
Gracefully landing onto the hard packed dirt of the street below, a guard turned to gape open mouthed at Gabriel as he landed a few feet behind him, before having his throat slashed by the razor sharp Chakram that Gabriel carried, not even slowing as he ran by him.
He ran, he'd outrun the city guards countless times before and yet this time they didn't give up, it awas almost as if they were determined to catch him this time.
A strange thrumming sound filled the air moments before the bolas struck Gabriel’s legs causing him to fall to the ground, his head cracking painfull against the floor, his vision swam crazily as he tried to crawl away but it was too late they were already upon him.
After that the rest became a blur of accusations and painfull beatings all of which led to him being tossed out of the city like so much garbage.
Looking about himself Gabriel realised that out of all the people who had been exiled that he was probably the only one guilty of the crimes of which he was accused...unknowingly admittedly but guilty all the same, if only he'd have gotten rid of that damn ring then he probably wouldn't be in this mess then again maybe his luck had just run out.
Tucking the knife he'd been given under his belt Gabriel began to follow the pit fighter out into the wastes, crossing himself as he passed the dead man that had been killed only moments before. A quick check of his person told him that his lock picks were still in the lining of his jacket though sadly the rest of his things were gone well except for two headed coin though a fat lot of good that would be out in the wastes, maybe he con a cactus out of its money with it.
Pausing only once to take one last look at the place of his birth Gabriel walked off into the wastes with the tall man from the tavern staring down at him from atop the wall, a smile on his face as he watched the man he’d conned walk off into the wilderness to his death.

 

[DeletedUser25825]

A woman, who had been deemed undesirable for having been caught shirking on her desalinization job, began to sob. The other man, who had been deemed undesirable after having been caught robbing a corpse, looked toward the woman and told her to shut it. The woman looked at him, threw her skin of water and knife at him, turned and ran back toward the city state. The crowd howled out in laughter and derision at the futility of the gesture. As she ran up to the gate and slammed her fists against it, a small explosion of smoke and flame erupted from where she made contact with the metal and sent her soaring backward. She landed in the sand and didn't move. The man picked up her ration of water, and didn't bother with the blade. He turned and shouted, "Hey Griff!! Wait up!" He trotted after the disgraced pit fighter who did not stop walking.

 

[DeletedUser13682]

This just might be it. The perfect metal for making the perfect spirng, it could be it. Soon all arquebuses with the matchlock would be obsolete. Soon, the wheellock will reign supreme, and then, well, it would be time to refine, improve, and eventually surpass. Tomorrow though would be the day to begin building. For now, it was time to pay the bed a visit. After paying the representative of the library the money, plus an extra tip. The hospital needed the money. So, after the metal, and checking his arquebus, James went to bed. Within his bed, he had sweet dreams the revolution in firearms that he would start.

The morning brought, instead of the beginnings of future glory, torture and accusations by the men of Pratt. They were accusing him of something along the lines of killing Sebastian, thieving materials, destorying property, and killing guards. None of this James did, he had just met Sebastian a few hours before obtaining the metals, about how his wheellock would change the world. They had been friends for years! He made weapons and armour to protect guards, not kill them! The only things he destroyed were the roughness and uselessness of crude metals, to replace them with beauty and function. And he got all his materials legitimately, though wait. It must have been his metal he recieved last night! They were rare metals, where else would they come from so cheaply?

And so, James was exiled from Pratt's Haven, with naught but a little iron knife, not even of a quality of a five year old, wondering why he was exiled. It must be because Pratt found a cheaper person to make acceptable, albeit barely acceptable, arquebuses, of far less quality than James's, though slightly cheaper, and the metals the hospital library had stolen were an excuse. After the old man and the woman had died, James saw the woman's knife, and picked it up. If he was to survive, he would need metal. He could make a forge from scraps, and could make fire hot enough with other materials, and metal could be found easily enough. But he would need gunpowder, because he couldn't fight with a sword. Though he could wear armour, and make others armour and swords. But how? All he had were his plans, deemed unworthy of theft.

Rocks, he would have to start with rocks and forge a hammer, just like the good old days. While he was thinking of this, James saw Lucas, owner of the hospital. "Lucas, I need to know how you got those metals, but later. First, I need a forge and metals. I'm going to make us weapons and armour. It's the best thing I can think of right now."

 

[Deleted User - 819397]

Lucas was somewhat taken aback by James' no-nonsense attitude. He had expected commiseration...they were both exiled from the only place they had ever lived. However, he decided that it must have something to do with the age differences between them...James had almost 20 years on him. The metal he had delivered...it had been a new invention that he had made...he had refined iron from an abandoned sword with some coal and heat to make steel, and then had further toughened it with an alchemical potion to create the compound that comprised his metal. By Lucas' judgement, they were missing literally all the components, meaning he had absolutely no way to make the metal again.

At James' mention of weapons and armor, Lucas laughed dryly. "I've never wielded anything but a whip, and even that I'm not great at. As far as armor..." he shook his head. "It'd require me to get rid of my cloak...and I absolutely won't do that. However, I do see the need to have a forge of some sort. I could use the fire for a lot of things..." If James had looked closely at Lucas' eyes, he would be able to see the shock in them. Lucas' mind was focusing on things that would be helpful to avoid dwelling on what happened.

 

[DeletedUser28032]

Gabriels boots crunched loudly on the sand as he caught up to the hulking giant that was Griff "So Griff...where are we headed?" he asked companionly walking beside him as if they old drinking buddies though in truth with the exception of a few pit fights he'd seen he'd never seen the man before in his life, although like everyone he knew his reputation. "....only i figured that a man of your renown would be in charge of our little band...our King of the wasteland so to speak" Gabriel continued ignoring the stony looks he was getting.
Casually looking over his shoulder he watched as two men, one of which he vaguely recognised as the librarian that ran the hospital, having some kind of discussion, cupping both hands about his lips Gabriel Shouted down to them "Hey...Amigo's...may i sugest you start walking before they start shooting!" smiling and shaking his head he turned his attetion back to the pit fighter "Idiotas....so Griff tell me whats the plan?"

 

[DeletedUser25825]

Griff looked over at Gabriel, and sized him up with a once over glance. He returned his attention forward, squinting as the merciless sun beat down upon them, and was reflected off of the white sands of the wastes. He lifted his chin slightly, and idly scratched at his throat as he continued to plod along. Sweat was already beading, and rolling down his exposed skin as he shook his head. He gruffly replied, "Over that next dune, and then the next, and I think the next." He shrugged his massive shoulders.

He shaded his eyes and looked up at the cloudless sky, and then forward again. He grumbled, "This shouldn't be happening you know. I didn't do whatever it was Pratt said. My owner sold me out. No clue why, but I'm going to show the lot of them. I remember traveling once, you know. There's an oasis of sorts about four days travel this way. If we can keep the line straight, I think we might just stumble upon it. The trick is making it with next to no water, and then fighting or bartering with whoever currently controls the place once there." He looked over his shoulder at the others straggling behind, and then forward once more as he continued to move at a controlled, steady pace.

He said, "I doubt it's going to be a fight, and you all don't seem to be very good for bartering. We have a knife, and won't have water by the time we get there. Not that it would be needed necessarily there. If there's water, it won't be as good a trade item as it is at Pratt's. I doubt half of us will even make a day or two out here. The old man was a mercy killing. The woman chose her out. These lot are likely to suffer the same fate." He grinned savagely at Gabriel and casually commented, "Hopefully, they drop off before they drink that water. Or maybe an accident will claim them. Either way, I don't really care what you do. If you intend on sticking with me, fine. Try to do something stupid my way, and you're dead." He shrugged and continued on.

The other man who had picked up the water from the dead woman, hurried to catch up with Griff and Gabriel. After he finally reached them, he walked alongside the both. He coughed as the dry air irritated his taxed lungs from running. He looked at Griff, and then at Gabriel before nodding. He said, "The name's Jamell. Bad start of a day no?"

 

[DeletedUser28032]

(OOC: @ Alawa - I think you have the wrong character...I am Gabriel)

Gabriel listened quietly as Griff told him of the oasis out in the desert, as plans went it was basic but would serve them well "I know of the place you mean...we hit a ridge after about a days walk, if we follow that then we shouldn't get lost" Gabriel replied, not all of the maps he'd seen were fakes then again none of them were exactly one hundred percent accurate either. "As for bartering well you leave that to me" he said an evil smile appearing momentarily on his features only to disappear just as quick as it had appeared, when it came to trade Gabriel was no better than the next man, however when it came to cheating someone out of something...well...that he could do very well indeed.
Wiping a bead of sweat from his brow with a gloved hand Gabriel listened to the veiled threats made by the pit fighter a look of irritation crossing the big mans face as Gabriel began to laugh "you can try amigo but...this is no pit, there are no corners in which you can trap me and that is no club..." he said pointing to the knife on his belt "...your strength won't help you when wielding that...but do not worry Gabriel is your friend and you'll need someone to watch your back as you sleep" he said finally getting the laughter under control, he had no intention of fighting him but it didn't hurt to point out that the rules had changed since leaving the city.
Behind him came the sound of running feet and heavy breathing as the man who would later introduce himself as Jamell caught up with the two of them "yes as days go this isn't the best i've ever had so tell me Jamell what brings you to this exotic paradise...the guards gave me bit of headache last night so i wasn't really paying attention back there" he said indicating the bruises on his face, he listened politely as the man spoke, all the while he thought of how to trick him into handing over his extra waterskin.

 

[DeletedUser13682]

James was formulating a plan in his mind, it was all he could do to keep from losing it. Gone were the relative comforts of life and rewarding work of his forge. But he had to think of a plan to keep him, and everyone else alive. "Right then, I say we follow the rest of the party first. That seems the best. Griff is a wild card, but I did hear him talking about knowing where an oasis is. We can make camp there, if we make it." James looked at Griff, seeing Griff constantly staring at him. Why would he do a thing like that? Griff was not going to get the upper hand on James. He may not have his arquebus, but any rock of sufficient size was as good as a hammer, and a skull was just like a less malleable piece of metal. "Anyway, let's go, and don't drink your water until the third day. And then just a bit. Lucas my friend, I hadn't noticed, but nobody has welcomed you to the wastes. Welcome to the wastes, my friend!" James laughed, a little laugh that betrayed a bit of the immense worry and doubt he felt, but he had to keep it in, they wouldn't survive by panicing.

 

[Deleted User - 819397]

Lucas made a sarcastic face at James' "welcome" but didn't comment. It was fairly obvious he didn't want to follow Griff...he had never gone to watch a stadium match, but he knew Griff by reputation...the less he had to do with him the better. However, the alternative was to go his own way, and that was also a guaranteed no-no. Sighing, he drew his cloak around him and followed James after the retreating hulking figure.

Lucas' mind was still trying to keep himself from going into shock, and the only thing that could hold it off was to think logically. The hammer and chisel would be good for his metallurgy, which James would have need of. The matches use were obvious, as were the rubbing alcohol and bandages. In fact, the only thing that he couldn't think of a use for was the plum bob. From all accounts, the wastes were more dangerous than anything conceivable...what use was a lack of moral inhibitions out here? The only reason he didn't chuck the awful solution away was he didn't want to let an unsavory type have it. That would be awful. Things were relatively hopeless...what use would he be out here? He couldn't fight well, and he was severely limited in his medical supplies. With a start, Lucas realized that the shock was getting to him. He needed something to bring him out of it...he could think of some potions...but he had neither the ingredients or the means to procure them...

 

[DeletedUser25825]

Jamell looked at Gabriel and shrugged his scrawny shoulders. He was average height, and skinnier than was healthy. He was dressed in a conglomeration of raggy clothing. He said, "Engh, I was caught taking some useful items off a corpse before Pratt's boys could. I say free game if you happen upon a deader, but we all know the rules. You find a corpse, you need to report it to Pratt's guards so you can earn your finder's fee. Finder's fee indeed... measly bit of coin that won't buy half a cup." The man shook his head, and began muttering under his breath about the wrongs he'd suffered.

The group plodded on through the endless dunes. Griff ignored everybody, as he chose instead to lock his squinting eyes on the horizon of the next dune as he said he would. Jamell ripped parts of his shirt off to wrap over the top of his balding head, and had already drank through almost the entire first skin of water that he was in possession of. The other he kept hugged to him under his arm, and reflexively twisted away from anybody that happened to get near it. The other two, who seemed to be friends, walked with and away from the group. They were obviously going in the same direction, but seemed to be doing so only out of convenience. The last member of the group, did not say word one as he too walked with the group. He ignored the initial attempts of banter Gabriel attempted, and was soon ignored. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, or perhaps shocked by the entire situation. (Keeping Peril with the group, he's been having computer issues)

As they topped the next dune, Griff stopped so suddenly that Jamell crashed headlong into his back. Griff cast an annoyed glance over his shoulder at the small man, who shrunk away muttering an apology. Griff looked back out at what had caught his attention and pointed. Everybody looked in the direction of his beefy finger, and saw a small object dotting the otherwise bare landscape. This sort of thing happened often in the wastes. The strong winds would shift sand, and reveal buried objects, only to reclaim them shortly thereafter. Griff began charging down the dune in long, powerful strides. After a few short moments, the group, with Griff at the lead, reached the object.

It proved to be a mostly buried, rag covered skeleton. Only the skull, one arm and upper portion of the rib cage were exposed. The death was not natural, as evidenced by a single arrow, which protruded out from between two ribs in the owner's back. Griff sank to his knees, and began scooping armfuls of sand away from the body to further expose it. He paused, and looked at the others, who were standing around and asked, "Well?" That simple word motivated Jamell, who sank down opposite Griff and helped with moving the sand away from the body. After a few minutes, the entire skeleton was laying there exposed from its grave.

The owner had been dressed in rags. While digging through the sand, Griff had happened upon an empty dented canteen, a ratty leather satchel, and a rusty dagger. As Jamell reached out for the items near Griff, the behemoth of a man grabbed his arm and flung him bodily away from the group. He grabbed the satchel and stood up. He opened the covering and peered inside. He grunted, "Few weird coins, battery, small folding knife, and..." Griff frowned, dug into the satchel and pulled out a small disk of convex glass. He muttered, "Huh." He lifted his head and looked around the small basin they were in and commented, "It's kind of weird for somebody to go through the trouble of killing someone, and leaving their stuff behind. It's not like any of it is really useful, but still. Something is better than nothing." He looked at the assembled junk, kept the odd piece of glass, and dropped the rest. He grunted, "We should keep moving. If we find that ridge, we might be able to walk in shade for a while tomorrow."

 

[DeletedUser28032]

Gabriel watched as the fool Jamell steadily drained his first waterskin whilst guarding the other with a paranoid intensity and they had only been walking for a few hours, Griff was right perhaps it would be better if an accident should befall the fool before he drank all of his water and died of dehydration.
It was hot and getting hotter by the hour, Gabriel had been temtped to lose his heavy leather jacket but had instead settled with tying it about his waist, it would get cold later and would be thankfull for the heavy garment then.
He quietly studied those around him trying to work out which of the group he could use and which would be best discarded in order to further his own survival. Looking up as Griff cried out, spying something hidden in the sand Gabriel gave chase arriving at the pile of bones moments after Jamell had starting digging, he watched as the two of them excavated the body out of the ground, laughing when the fool Jamell was tossed aside like a ragdoll when he tried to snatch the satchel from beneath Griff's nose "Idiota everyone knows the big man gets first pick" he chuckled quietly watching the man dust himself off, a dark look crossing his face as his eyes fell on Griff. The laughter died in Gabriel's throat upon seeing the dark look Jamell gave Griff to be replaced by an evil grin as the beginnings of a plan formed in his mind "Here friend I believe you deserve this after all you did most of the digging" Gabriel spoke with a smile handing the small knife over to a somewhat suprised Jamell, pocketing the collection of coins as he did so, the knife would have been good but too but it made a far better gift than any of the other items and he needed Jamell to be his friend if his plan was to work "Don't worry I know how to deal with that big oaf...come see me when me make camp tonight and i'll tell you more" he continued in a low voice, casting a wary eye up at the pit fighter who was currently examining the small piece of glass, moving a away before the could say anything to compromise him.
Taking a small sip of water Gabriel went to walk beside Griff once more the faithful companion "If my memory serves me right the ridge should be a little north of here...no more than an hours walk...it would be nice to get out of this sun for a little while at least" he carried on walking in silence for several minutes before speaking again this time in a much lower voice so as not to be overheard "You should keep an eye on that Jamell, he's drinking that water of his rather quickly... I don't trust him he may try something foolish once he starts running low" he said planting the seeds from which he would reap later tonight if all went to plan.

 

[DeletedUser]

Standing at the foot of the gates, earlier in the day, Elias looked with absolute hate upon the face of Pratt, sitting in the armored carriage that Elias had drenched in blood many times. All in the name of what? Elias wondered. Women, men, even children, Elias had rent entire families asunder to further the political power of the man who was now, because Elias knew too much, sending him out to die in the worst way possible. Elias fought back tears of anger and frustration, as he was marched out of the carriage, his black clothing, for he had been coming home from his latest night time job at the time of his apprehension, was now covered in the red juices of rotten, thrown tomatoes. Elias hung his head in shame, for now he knew of what his real purpose had been. He hadn't been bringing peace to Pratt's Haven, he wasn't saving his city from a violent uprising, he was forcibly enslaving a population. No one wanted to speak out against Pratt, for fear of being found dead in their homes the next morning, or being shot down in cold blood while at the market. Elias felt like crying.

As Elias felt the doors close behind him with the dreadful finality of a death sentence, Elias looked down at his red stained clothing, he dipped his hand into it, and rubbed it between his fingers. The liquid sat upon his hand, like an accusation of his misdeeds, until Elias wiped it off upon his trouser leg. He looked on in horror as the barbarous Griff snapped the neck of a the shaken man next to him, then stole his supplies. Elias momentarily wondered if the pit fighter would do the same to all of them, but he was relieved when Griff turned and started to walk. Elias knelt down over the man and stripped his clothing off, it would be cold in the desert at night. Holding the man's clothing in his right hand, Elias stomped off after the rest of them.

As the minutes turned to hours, Elias fell into a trance like state, where all that existed was the next footprint in the sand, which he must place his own into. His thoughts drifted back in time, back to when life was easy, where it made sense. He thought of his days as a young boy, slowly mulling over every meaningful experience he went through, his father teaching him the ways of a man with a gentle but firm hand, the day Pratt had decided to make the young Elias into his own personal assassin, his first love, the murder of Sebastian being the latest memory which he relived.

Elias was pulled back to reality by the harsh yell of Griff, who had spotted something among the infinite expanse of sand dunes that stretched out to each horizon. Everyone, including Elias, ran to the skeleton, which had a well made arrow stuck between the third and fourth ribs. Elias immediately knew what he would scavenge, he hoped none of the outcasts would take the arrow, and none of them did. When the party had resumed their march, Elias quickly pulled the arrow out of the dead man and slipped it up into his sleeve. The assassin was both, partially scared and angry at Griff, who would probably continue to slowly kill off each of them, as his thirst grew, if the meaty pit fighter, or anyone else for that matter, came at him, Elias would do his best to shove the arrow straight under the man's jaw.

Sweat coating every inch of him, his palish skin becoming sunburned and the ever present sand slowly trickling into his boots, Elias followed his party into the wastes.

((Sorry for late post, been fighting with my computer for a few days now.))

 

[DeletedUser25825]

Griff barely glanced at Jamell as Gabriel mentioned Jamell's water consumption. He began walking. The group crossed several more tall dunes, and as they crested another a long ridge of rock outcropping was visible. Griff stood at the top of the dune for a short while, as he looked along the rocks with squinted eyes. He grunted, "Damnable sun, all I'm seeing is spots." He shaded his eyes, and pointed toward the rocks. He said, "What do you all think? Another hour or so, and we'll make that outcrop. It looks dark underneath, so we might be able to sit out of this sun for the night." He looked at the others, and shrugged his massive shoulders.

Jamell nodded agreeably as he finished the last of one of his water skins, and dropped the empty container onto the sand. Griff looked at him, and shook his head. Jamell shrank back slightly and muttered, "What? I'm thirsty." Griff looked as if he was about to advance on Jamell, when the older man looked passed Griff's shoulders, widened his eyes and pointed excitedly behind Griff. He shouted, "Smoke!" Griff continued to watch Jamell, but it drew the others' attention, and there was indeed a wisp of black smoke lazily floating upward from somewhere out of sight on top of the rocks.

Only after Griff heard the others agree that there was smoke, did he turn and look out at the trail of smoke, which seemed to grow thicker. Griff grunted, and began trudging through the sand once again. He moved in the direction of the smoke. After nearly two hours of walking through the sand, the group reached the base of the rocks. It wasn't so much as a ridge, as there was no higher elevation, but one long pile of rocky terrain. Griff looked up, shading his eyes, and looked at the smoke as it continued to drift upward and spiral around with the desert wind. He took a deep breath, coughed, and sat down under a longer rock, which created a bit of shade. He drank some of his water, and looked at each of the people with the group.

He said, "There's an owner to that smoke people. I don't think it's wise to break up out little community here to have some investigate, while leaving others behind. So, we either all climb up those rocks, or none of us do."