The Twisted Earth (Post-apocalyptic Role play) (Started - Closed)

[Tips_of_Fingers]

"Always getting yourself into trouble, Irish." Blake laughed at the trader, his eyes idly falling upon the back young man who had been manning the vehicle's turret. He cocked an eyebrow curiously as he caught a momentary image of a black sunflower tattooed on the boy's neck. The Black Sunflower...? Interesting. Yet another one to watch.

The glance and thought took only a second, and Blake quickly continued his conversation with the trader. "Somehow you have eluded death," He smiled, a ragged grin that split his grimy face. "The Good Man continues to favour you. A good thing, I think. I imagine your caravans were not so lucky... As for me," He leaned back, spreading his arms to include all the occupants of the vehicle. "I found myself well and truly tested this day, the company I keep forced upon me." Blake's smile faded, a frown pinching his features. "I am certain, however, that all is as it should be. For now. A man named Balthazar asked something of us, which reminds me...." He paused, reaching over to tap the glowing-eyed mutant's shoulder. The mutant turned, his eyes shining effervescent blue, and Blake held them with a cold stare, a false smile curling his lips. "I believe you have something we would want...angel?"

 

[StormShaun]

"Ah, I wondered when you were going to bring this up" Shaun said in a bolder tone towards the Zealot man, a smirk appeared on his lips thinking that he may as tag along for the ride since he has got nowhere else to go, and surly the Scientists will send someone out for him. Shaun pulled out the USB out of his pocket, still in mint condition, "I know you want this but allow me to give it to...ugh, your leader, surly he will know what to do with it, but in return I want to join your little group of marry men, frankly I think it's a good price to pay" Shaun said before throwing the USB up into the air and catching it with grace.

Shaun then wondered if the crazed religious man will actually let him in the group, Surly I have earned their trust by saving their leader....Right? Shaun pondered as he awaited the baldy's response.

 

[Dectomax]

Ford eased up on the throttle, pulling the humvee back to a reasonable speed. It bumped over the rough terrain, creaks and bangs coming from the chassis as it hit rock and dirt. Outside, the storm clouds were passing and breaking up. The calm late afternoon sun tearing through the clouds at last. Outside, on the right of the vehicle, the mountains rose in the distance, breaking the plains of Crux from the west coast. Ford reached the river and drove alongside it downstream.

 

[Tortilla the Hun]

Irish sat in his seat, glad that he had known someone in this group, Heaven help him if he hadn't. He listened very closely about what Blake had to say about his current predicament. Sounds like I ain't the only one gettin' themselves in trouble.

Taking a moment for himself, Irish took the hand-rolled cigarette from behind his ear and planted it between his lips. He opened a pouch on his pack for a box of wood matches, slid the box from its sleeve and plucked a match from within. He struck the match against the fine sandpaper on the side of the box to ignite the match, raised the lit stick to the cigarette while cupping the small flame. Once his cigarette was lit, he shook the match to put the flame out then tossed it out the window. Irish took a long drag and reveled in the taste, then slowly exhaled with a strong mixture of relief and comfort. The tobacco he purchased was from a small farm near his hometown, though pricier than some of the stuff he saw elsewhere, was the the only tobacco he was willing to smoke. He intended, at some point, to ask the old farmer just how he grew such magnificent produce though he doubted the farmer would ever tell him.

Sitting there and smoking, Irish began recollecting the events that led up to this point...

Irish had chosen four other caravanners to plot a safe road out West, two of his best and two greenhorns. Everything had been fine until they were passing through what appeared to be an abandoned city, but a group of bandits had planned an ambush. One of the rookies stumbled onto a tripwire that was hidden in a pile of rubble underneath an overpass. The tripwire released a car that was on the edge of the overpass, right above the rookie. Irish acted fast and yanked the greenhorn back by his pack and the rusted husk slammed onto the asphalt. Gunfire immediately followed the loud crash, forcing Irish and his men to duck for cover. The bandits clearly weren't, by any means, strategic or efficient in their execution of their ambush. The bandits just clustered on the road ahead and were unloading ammunition onto the caravanners' position.
Irish told his men to fall back, make their way back to the caravan while he draws the bandits' attention. That's where they split up, and things just went South from there. Irish managed to flank the bandits and crafted a makeshift bomb using a propane tank, a roadflare, and a well-placed shot. The large explosion that destroyed one of their trucks and killed a few men was enough to draw the bandits' attention away from the overpass and onto Irish. Light on his feet, he made a mad dash through the city ruins, trying to lose them in the twisted metal and rubble. he made it out of the city around nightfall, and he thought he had lost them until he heard the roar of engines and saw the headlights of an entire convoy. For two days they had been actively searching for him, sweeping North and South, still pushing him Westward. Then that's when he came upon the hangars...

The whole episode at the dome was his salvation, even though he was almost killed in several instances.  This brought his wound back to his attention; the numbness had seemed to have set in. He raised his wounded leg and set it atop the other, then pulled up his pant leg to examine the graze. He winced at the feel of the rough denim rubbing against the tender, open flesh. The wound wasn't too deep, luckily, but deep enough to require some medical attention. Irish dug through his pack for his field surgery kit and set it on his lap. He opened it up and pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, unscrewed the cap and poured some on the wound. Irish inhaled sharply, Feckin' 'Ell tha' stings, then fastened the cap back on the bottle and stashed it back in the kit. He pulled a swatch of gauze from the kit as well as some medical tape, then pressed the gauze onto the wound and used a couple strips of tape to secure it. Taking another long drag of his cigarette, he cleaned up the blood around the bandage then stashed the field surgery kit in his pack. Irish exhaled in relief again, lowered his leg and closed his eyes, sinking back into his seat in relaxation.

 

[Tips_of_Fingers]

"I don't care what you do," Blake growled at the glowing-eyed man. "you sure as hell don't want to get into our predicament. Besides, I'm sure all of us here have ways of making you give up the information."

Why would he want to ride with us...? This mutant is either completely mad or just plain stupid. Smelling smoke, Blake turned to Irish and cocked an eyebrow. "Tobacco eh?" He smiled, breathing in the fumes from the trader's cigarette. Blake held out a friendly hand, his smile sincere for once. "For old times sake, trader?"

 

[StormShaun]

"Yeah and I have a hell of a way of blowing you all up, but I do not want to handle this information by myself, it will lead me to more shit that I'll have to bury myself in, and hey I'm probably going to be hunted sooner or later, so being with you guys won't be so bad..." Shaun explained to the mysterious man who was about to grab a cig from the trader, "And fuck, if you want to smoke can't you wait till we get out of the car?" Shaun said as he opened the window next to him and put his head outside to escape the fumes of chemical death.

Shaun was staring outside the window to look at the on-coming sin city, they still had a while to go but suddenly Shaun itched his head and remembered something, "Oh yeah, I forgot about that..." Shaun muttered to himself as he started to play around with his computer watch until a beep came from the watch and Shaun looked back outside the truck and muttered to himself with a single tear down his cheek "That...that should take care of that...", noticing the tear, Shaun wiped it of his face as fast as possible, Shaun then looked towards Irish "Hey Irish, would you be able to sell this launcher for a good sum?" Shaun questioned the chain smoking man.

 

[Tortilla the Hun]

Irish looked at Blake, "O' course, o' course." He said with a smile as he slipped another hand-rolled cigarette from his breast pocket and dropped it into Blake's open hand. He pulled out the box of wood-matches from his pack and held it out for Blake. "Foinest smoke ye'll ever have, least until ye ask fer anot'er." Irish joked with hearty laugh.

Irish looked at the youngfella who spoke up with a look of slight disdain, "Clearly ye've never had a puff o' the pure stuff. Anywho, mayhap ye'll get used to it. Iffen ye don't, tha's too feckin' bad." Irish took another long drag as the youngfella asked him a question, then thoughtfully looked out the window before exhaling and turning back to him. "Sure, I can sell just about anythin' ye got. Only fer a cut o' the profit o' course, me time and skill shan't be goin' unappreciated." Irish replied with a grin.

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

As Ashe finished making any last adjustments he noticed the plans that the man Shaun had in his hands. With that a thought came up, a rather interesting one at that.

"What if Balthazaar doesn't live up to his words? The man is a fox among dogs. How do you know that he isn't going to through us to the Stroniums once he's done with us?" Ashe spoke up. Her father had spoke of Balthazaar offhandedly when he had first made his mark on the Crux but he wasn't really sure what exactly he said but she did coin his phrase that Balthazaar was a fox among dogs.

Ashe took her knife and began scratching the surface of the dashboard. First the dulled surface only made a sharp noise but after a few more carving a shape started to form. Ashe began work on the inside until she noticed out of the corner of her eye Mortis fiddling with something in his bag of "goodies".

"How about you Morits? I'm sure a person like you has any much as a say for any of this as I do?" Ashe knew it was pointless talking to a person like him but she was sure that Mortis had spent long enough time in the wastes to know a betrayal even before it happens.

 

[tobi the good boy]

Mortis was sitting aloft a bolted seat half hidden in the shadows of the corner of the foundation vehicle. he was rummaging through the depths of his black leather bag, ensuring that all his assets had been returned to their rightful domains. His were eyes constantly in movement from the recess of his cache, the two patients and their tiniest companion, primarily her swift finger. As the conversation in the steel cart began to rise and attention began to shift, Mortis reached slowly into the pocket at his left side of his stained and slaughtered coat. His fingers caressed a familiar lacquered wooden prism, his index following the blackened grain of the carved in pictorial of a human heart.

"How about you Morits? I'm sure a person like you has any much as a say for any of this as I do? Came an addressal from over his shoulder. The forced baritone instantly leading to recognition. Mortis nonchalantly removed his hand from his pocket as to draw away attention and rest it on top of his concealed belonging, a brief pause falling across the room for a second as Mortis forced himself to remember with clarity what he was just asked.

"To expect an honoured deal in the wastes is idiotic." Mortis rose his voice so that he could grab the attention of all that graced the vehicle.
"We lost two of his vehicles and grabbed the attention of The Foundation. Do you really expect him to welcome us with open arms?" Mortis made and exaggerated expression, outstretching his arms as wide as his spindly limbs would allow.

"I'd suggest remaining hidden, making a connection with one of the merchant families, preferably the Reinventors concerning the product, and making a deal."

Mortis retrieved a scalpel from a socket in his black bag and waved it half-heartedly at the man identified as 'Irish', the trademark scar adored smile raised only at half-mark.
"You may be of use..."

 

[Tortilla the Hun]

Irish looked curiously at the scarred, gangly man in the corner of the humvee, taking another deep drag and trying to figure out his play. "Aye, indeed I could be. Dependin' on what ye be needin' o' course. And this Balthazar, do ye know much about 'im? Can ye really just assume tha' 'e wouldn't keep 'is word? I'm sure a man o' business, iffen 'e were anythin' like me, would just wanna make sure tha' 'is investment is a profitable one. Aye, two vehicles is a big loss and ye'll certainly be payin' fer them one way or anot'er. As fer attractin' attention from The Foundation...well, 'e don't be needin' to know about tha' now, do 'e?"

 

[StormShaun]

Shaun noticed the keyword of "Attention" being passed around the room and slowly looked at the launcher beside him, "Well, this would attracted a whole load of attention, so we should sell this as soon as possible, but our top task should be to get, ugh, whathiasface and the stranger to a hospital, and then after that we can sell this and do what we have to do" Shaun spoke in an outburst.

"Also I do not know this Balthazar you're talking about, but since you said that we have wreaked his trucks and gained unwanted attention, he would most likely shot first ask questions later, like the rest of these uncivilized bastards" Shaun stopped for a seconded to cough from the chemical death that has been passed around the cramped humvee.

"Also I haven't got your name and that guy's name yet, I can't trust anyone without a name" Shaun spoke with a serious face pointing at both Blake and Marcus.

 

[Tips_of_Fingers]

"Thanks," Blake said to Irish, puffing contentedly on the cigarette. It was difficult to get good tobacco but Irish always seemed to have a good supply-line. He'd never divulged its whereabouts and Blake liked the man enough to push for the information. Good, honest traders were hard to find these days and Irish was one of the best that Blake had ever dealt with.

Getting on the bad side of a trader was never a good idea... It usually ends up badly for all parties involved, he thought dryly, recalling an incident over five years ago involving a particularly poor sale he'd made. A lot of men were killed that day, but Blake had come out on top. I always do... He thought, inhaling the sweet smoke deeply before blowing a perfect ring out the window.

Blake listened to Mortis' speech with disdain. The abomination was right about Balthazar being untrustworthy. "The Ragdoll's right, much as it pains me to say it." He conceded to the group, cigarette dangling expertly form his lips as he spoke. "Balthazar's a fuckin' snake. He offered me information in return for going on this little errand of his, but I doubt he'll keep his side of the bargain. Besides," Blake grinned through the smoke, "I'm sure he's not the only one who can help me find what I need..." Blake eyed Irish subtly, making a mental note to talk to the trader privately when he could.

The Good Man has put me with these sinful beings for a reason, he mused idly, And I am determined to see it through to the end. Just then, The glowing-eyed stranger who hated the smoking asked for Blake's name. If I'm going to do this...I better let 'em know I won't kill them straight off the mark...against my better judgement.

"My name is Blake Rheinhart," He said gruffly, snatching the cigarette from his lips. "And that," he pointed the glowing end at the prostrate form of Marcus, "is Marcus. Trust us thoroughly yet, mutant?" Blake sighed, preparing himself for the next part of his speech. "If we're gonna betray Balthazar, we all need to work together to find out what's so important about the damned airship. For me, that means putting aside my beliefs," He glared at all of the mutants in turn, making sure to focus on Mortis in particular, "for now, at least."

Blake grunted and turned his body to view the terrain rushing past outside. I hope you know what you're doing, Good Man. For the first time in his life, Blake felt uncertainty creep into his faith.

 

[StormShaun]

"No, why, because you pushed me out of the humvee...Blake" Shaun spat out the last name, he introduced himself next "Also the names Shaun Pittman...not mutant, back in my security team they used to call me Angel, so feel welcome to call me either" Shaun spoke while waving the cloud of second hand smoke away from his nostril.

A cloud of silence filled the air of the humming vehicle, Shaun wondered about what information they leaked in the air, who is this Balthazar and what is going to happen now. "Well I don't know who this fuckin' Balthazar is or where we are going, all I know is that we need to find a place where we can let Marcus rest, and I, myself is interested about what is on this USB, but after we let Marcus rest up, we should go to the nearest market. This weapon will attract a whole load of attention and I am sure that this will fetch quite a good price" Shaun etched a smile on his face and spoke to the whole humvee to break the wall of silence.

 

[tobi the good boy]

Mortis listened with childlike fascination from the embrace of the shadows in the windowless section of the tiny steel cage. His mangled right hand rested aloft the wooden container hidden beneath the folds of his white lab-coat, his index tracing over the carved aorta of the scaled down design. Mortis leaned steadily closer as the fool and his prey bickered between one another amongst the slate grey miasma filling the room. Mortis' spindly claws wafted over the two figures whose lives he had wrested from the clutches of the reaper. His gaze, half hidden beneath strands of char tipped hair, fixated onto the two man breathing heavily from the organic substance known as 'tobacco'.

"You, zealot and funny-talking man. Stop doing that, If these two end up breathing this in and start coughing ... Their stitches will tear and I'll have to sew them back together again." Mortis lectured the two figures, their features growing grim at the sudden revelation. He watched, bemused, as a sense of pride flushed across the fools face. Mortis rose completely from his dimly lit corner and sauntered over to the nearest window, he reached into his pocket and removed the three, obviously modified, magnum rounds, examining them in the beacon of light.

 

[StormShaun]

Shaun opened the window once again to let out the thick cloud of smoke, he was glad that the air inside the humvee was again clean, he then looked towards the patients with concern due to the still smoking veterans. Shaun then heard the funny lecture between the two men known as Blake and Mortis.

After the lecture, Mortis pulled out three magnum rounds that he recognized with ease, "Hmm I wondered where they went" Shaun spoke to the again open conversation, "I would give those back if I was you, they were designed for me and me only, the world doesn't know about them, and if you try to use it, you will surly die" Shaun said seriously as he stared into the crazed Mortis's eyes.

 

[tobi the good boy]

Mortis raised the modified hunk of metal to his blood-flecked eyes. Mortis' head cocked with a vile cracking noise as he twirled the round in an out of the gaps of his stark, almost skeletal fingers. The cold sturdiness of metal, rough against his skin was juxtaposed by grooves of sleek transparent glass that ran along the exterior like circuitry. Mortis hand slipped into the recesses of his sleeve and removed a circular piece of convex glass. He placed the bullet in the line of sight with the magnifying device and observed the liquid encased within the lead round.

"44. magnum round, etched with a what one can assume to be a very fine blade. It also appears to then have had Telkite applied as a coating and later sealed with glass thin enough to shatter on launch." Mortis only then realised the man he had first pegged as an imbecile was addressing him.
"Yes, very deadly. These would require a heavily augmented weapon to fire without exploding within the chamber." Mortis' smile grew as he locked eyes with the man now outstretching his hand to retrieve what was once his. Mortis returned two of the three rounds to Shaun and pocketed one.
"I think I'll keep one of these for further study..."

 

[evalaina]

She was never one to really engage in chatter, Hex. The few words she generally spoke were of self preservation, excluding the almost constant singsong stream of rhymes that she had stored away over the years, their presence somewhat of a precursor to the removal of valuables. So as the others accused each other, snapped and bit like curs separated by nothing but wire mesh in a dogfight, she observed. The patchwork doll no longer bothered her. She had leverage over him of some sort, though she was yet to figure out of what kind- it would need further investigation.
After some time of this silent observation, after the answers to her questions did not necessarily emerge from what she was listening in on, she decided to break her habitual silence. Especially after the topic of getting on the bad side of Balthazar found its way onto the verbal slipstream.
"Excuse me," she ventured, only to find her voice lost in the swell of the conversation and the steady cacophony of the outside as the vehicle sped towards their destination. Once again, she tried, using the break after mr-tall-and-gangly had finished speaking.
"Excuse me, but who are you all? What were you doing there? Also, do you know how much of a bad idea it is to cross Balthazar?"

 

[Tortilla the Hun]

Irish looked back at the gangly figure once more as he spoke up. He'd forgotten all about the injured men in the back, so he opened the window enough to allow the smoke a swift exit. The air within the humvee began clearing and Irish continued smoking, being careful to make sure any smoke left the humvee. He prepared to speak up to the gangly man in the back, but when he looked back he could see the man was caught up in conversation with the youngfella that had so rudely introduced himself as Shaun Pittman, or "Angel" as he used to be called.

Used to is the key word, thought Irish, I'll call ye whatever I damn well please until ye can learn to respect your elders. Though, in his defence, Blake was a bit harsh, throwin' around the 'mutant' label. Eh, s'pose tha's just Blake bein' Blake. The ol' zealot's mind were always closed tighter 'n a toad's arse. I can't believe I've forgotten...need make a note to introduce meself poperly sometime today.

Irish was prepared to lose himself in his thoughts once again when the little girl in the very back spoke up. Well, speakin' o' the devil, I s'pose introductions start 'ere. Irish cleared his throat and replied: "Well youngwan, the name's Miles McDermott, though most know me as 'Irish' and eit'er one will do. I'm a trader by trade, buyin' an' sellin' any ware anywhere. Ahem, now, as to what I was doin' back there...well, one could say I took a wrong turn at Albuquerque, though 'twas more'n a wrong turn, I found meself runnin' fer me life from some unruly band o' ne'er-do-wells and just 'appened upon those 'angars. Regarding this Balthazar, I can't say I know 'im too well. Now, who might you be and how did ye end up wit' this lot 'ere?"

 

[Mr.Ivebeenframed]

After a circle had been formed Ashe turned back to Shaun after he had a little 'disagreement' with Blake. Not to mention his lack of knowledge on who's who in these wastes. Blake's remark did leave Ashe grinning and the girl in the back also startled let alone shocked at how this little girl could survive for this long with her being so open about her gender. Her respect for her grew in Ashe's mind.

"Balthazar is the most powerful man in Crux at the moment with the Stronium Dogs at his leash. We cross him and we cross the Dogs. We're better off hiding away with one of the wealthy trading families at this point. They have shelter, food, and probably medicine."

"As for us, Balthazar needed us. We broke a few of his trucks in the process to get the plans what Shaun has. I'd ask you where you came from but I don't think I want to." Ashe said the girl.

 

[evalaina]

"Me? Hex. No last name like most of these fancy ones- just Hex. I have no idea who they are. The good man only knows how on this twisted earth they managed to get here, honestly."
Turning to Ashe, she cocked her head to the side and grinned slightly, the expression somewhat disturbing on such an innocent face. It was clear by now that she wasn't quite who she professed to be, but not quite exactly who or what she was, especially as her manner changed once again, taking on the glib tone of a somewhat guilty child when confronted with the half-empty bag of sweets they had hidden.
"Well, you see, My Ma wan'ned me to go and look for some supplies, you see. Stuff we could sell for a bit o' money. I usually just comb th' sands out the back of the buildings, 'cause a lot of stuff shows up in the rubble. Now, I left it for night, 'cause then its less dangerous- I can sneak around an' no one can see me. Then I see this row of trucks. I'm not against the graceful transfer of ownership, so I go have a look, an' the next thing I hear is people. So I hide."

At that she shrugged, intertwining her fingers for a moment before her hands separated, sketching out a square only half a metre on each side, staring at it with a moments of intense scrutiny before glancing up.
"I was stuck in a box that size for half the trip here. When they finally noticed the contents stashed behind another container, they checked and... Well, I don't know. I'm pretty sure they hit me on the head an' chucked me in the back. Then Shaun got thrown in, an' I ran in to ye all."

The smile stopped, and she frowned ever so slightly.
"Dunno where I am, really. Care to tell me?"