Land of the "Free". (American Wastes)

[Ms.Malbolge]

The frighteningly barren noon sky is as a thing torn open and laid bare against the dry heat, nothing left in its horizon but a harsh and dusty sun shining on through a miasma the color of brush smoke. Nothing stops that sun from beating down upon your brows as you slowly rot between four razored walls that rise and curve into that distant ball of fire and it seems that's all your life has come to, barbs and fire.

The rusted villa is large enough to grant the ten people within its walls room to move around a bit, to pace trenches into the dense earth or try and dig their way out but not enough room to prevent you from feeling as rats in a cage. So it is then that your days are filled with fire and your nights spent curled in on yourself as you try to safely avoid the edged walls, walls lined not only with the barbs of the wire but the gentle twinkling of glass and other nasty surprised the guards have woven in over the years. Yet these most heart tearing and most desolate days are not without some hope, hope that perhaps your jailers might see the error of their ways and release you back into the wild wastes .

It is a hope that twists in a maelstrom of futility, at least until today.

It is during one of these stifling days that the sounds of many a footstep are heard hustling and bustling outside your cage door, something that in itself isn't out of the realm of possibility but the fact that many of these very same footsteps seem rushed and agitated. Well, that is a bit odd after all. Shouts are heard mixed with pained, hopeless cries and the always droning machines that lay somewhere in the guarded storage houses of Texico seem to sputter for a moment before they're all lost to silence, a silence more painful to your ears that nigh but the most painful screech. Many of your cell mates find the strength to gain their feet and hover as close to the barbed walls as they dare, straining their eyes and ears to the very limit to try and catch a glimpse of what might be happening or perhaps overhead a whispered conversation between the guards but it is all ultimately in vain.

Four hours the surrounded town seems to hover on the edge of panic before your salvation appears, heavy footsteps stopping outside your cell while the jingling of keys followed by a slow groan as the door opens gives your first sights and sounds of freedom, at least until you see who opened the door. In the frame stands a man you all know too well, the man who sentenced you all to a slow death choking on the dust and rotting in the sun and when the Sheriff lazily rests his forearm on the handle of his rather clunky looking revolver a slow, cancerous dread starts worming its way up your spine. You get a good look at the man as he stands there, his six foot and rather blocky frame covered by a leather duster the color of mud worn loosly upon his shoulders, the coat pushed back behind a pair of relic Magnums that rest tightly in buckskin holsters.

"Well ladies itsa lookin' to be yer lucky day cuz I a be a needin' me some 'volunteers" The words escape his worn lips as a husky rattle that does little to hide the simplicity of his speech and his ill-shaven face erupts into a crinkled grin as he takes a good long look at all of you, two men wielding short barrelled shotguns now standing behind him. "Now who's it gonna be?

[UncleWolf]

A fairly tall and stocky man stands up, groaning from the effort of stretching out after so many days. His brown hair is coated in dust and his grey eyes look the Sheriff over. Friday knew that kind of question. Especially the "volunteer" part. That was the kind of "volunteer" that meant "Either you come with us, or we'll kill you."

Friday nods towards the man before speaking in a gravelly voice. "I'm listening."

[Crafty Cultist]

Jake's eyes light up in response to the sheriff query. He pulls out his lucky coin and kisses it. "I knew you'd get me out. You can't stay mad at someone this charming"

Jake pockets the coin, straightens his hat and turns to the sheriff "Thank you kindly for springin' me partner. I hope there's somethin' I can do to show my appreciation"

[Artemis97]

"Me!" Calls out a high-pitched voice, cracked by the dust and the heat. "Whatever it is, I'll go!"

A thin figure of a girl pulls together what little strength she had to lift herself up out of the dirt and crawl closer to the edge of the fenceline. She waves a hand, desperate to catch the Sheriff's attention. "Please."

She couldn't stand staying in this jail any longer. It was enough to drive a person insane. Even though she was used to the dust and the wind and the ever present sun that characterized the weather in this region, being forced to stay out in it, unable to move, unable to find shelter. It was terrible. All her life, she had been on the move. She was certain being confined to this little cage was slowly killing her.

[Tricycle_Knight]

Hawkeye

Hawkeye sits on the bench next to the other inmates, some of whom have already volunteered for a mission. Seeing it as an easy out--and one that may involve a fight, too, he boldly stands from the bench to address the sheriff directly.

"Sheriff, if ya want someone like me on the job, I 'spose I could clear up my schedule for ya."

[mangosta71]

A young man dressed in a silk shirt that had once been quite nice (but had been torn and missing a number of buttons when he had been thrown in, even though it had been clean at the time) and black (well, underneath the dust, at least) designer jeans lay lazily on his bedroll. He turned his head and raised an eyebrow at the Sheriff's entrance.

[Ms.Malbolge]

The sheriff chuckles a bit as less than half the cells inmates rush forward, some literally jumping at the chance of freedom while others seem a tad more skeptical at such prospects. "Six eh. Well ladies I gotta say I was a thinkin' there'd be more to this here outfit than that." He jerks his head to the side quickly, a dull crack issues forth as a small, satisfied smirk settles upon the aging gentleman's face. "Well boys ya best be a gettin' this meat outta here. Leave tha rest to soak in the sun a bit, fry what little remains in them there heads of theirs." With that the sheriff takes a few steps to back out of the cage before turning sharply, coat-tails sent flying to the side by the abruptness of the action before he disappears out of sight.

With the sheriff gone one of the two men who accompanied him comes forward and motions for the volunteers to follow him while his partner stands over the inmates who were to short-sighted to volunteer for whatever madness the sheriff no doubt has in mind. You are instructed to line up in a row outside of the cell and you would normally take a moment to take in the scenery as it were but for now you are simply surrounded by more of the barbed wire cottages. The cage is closed once more by the second man who turns and gives you all a bit of a graveyard smile, chuckling as his partner says, "No food or water for that lot Jim. They'sa gonna be dyin' a slow death for refusin' ol' Greymane." Armed now with the unfortunate news that you cell mates are doomed to die a slow death of heat and dehydration you are told to turn and face to the right and follow the first deputy out of the cell yards. As you walk you notice that none of the clanking of machines has returned and it doesn't take a genius to realize that whatever caused the machines to stop is probably the same thing to get you released from that wire hell hole behind you.

"We got us some dead men a walkin' here!" shouts the deputy marching behind your line, the one with the graveyard smile who cant help seem to keep himself from chuckling at some joke that only he seems to get. "What's y'alls name anyhow? I likes to know the names of dead men." His tone is almost giddy as he asks you your names and after taking another look at you his smile broadens as he adds, "... and women." after realizing that you aren't all of the male variety.

[Crafty Cultist]

With a rougish smile Jake places his hat to his chest and takes a small bow "The names Jake Greywater, partner, but I don't fancy myself as dead yet. Lady luck would never let me die so easily. She likes to pretend I don't matter, but we both know that you can't ignore a man with this much charm"

Jake then gives Matilda a freindly wink

[Artemis97]

The young woman hesistates to move at first, glancing back at the poor souls they were leaving behind. It wasn't right, but at least it wasn't her being left to starve. It did make her wonder what sort of fate was in store for her, though. Maybe they were the lucky ones.

She just rolls her eyes at Jake's little wink, but doesn't dare give the same look to the deputy behind them, though, lest he throw her back into the cells. Or get some other idea.

"My name's Matilda Sherwood. An' I ain't got no intention of dyin', either. Think you can tell us what this is all about?" She asks, looking back over her shoulder at the deputy.

[UncleWolf]

The man shakes his head sadly at Jake's comment and looks contemplative for a while. "Friday, call me Friday." He doesn't seem too bothered by the news of his cell mates' slow death, but that's how things went in this kind of world.

He knew that all too well.

Still, what he wished for at the moment was a tall glass of ice water, a good steak, and a pound of frankincense. He didn't know what that last one was, so attributes it to the heat.

[truemane]

Alan Miller

As it turned out, Alan almost missed the whole thing. He had been in the furthest corner of the cramped prison cell, speaking to the other inmates. He spoke in hushed, calm tones but there was something undeniable about his voice, something about the cadence of his words that made them impossible to ignore. And in that talented voice of his, he was instructing his people in the history of the Days Before.

"And as he watched his beloved uncle die in his arms, he realized that, with great power comes great responsibility. And he vowed that, from that day forward, he would fight criminals wherever he found them and..."

He paused his story just long enough to realize that the doors were open and people were leaving. He smiled at the gaggle of wretched, filthy prisoners all around him. Most of them were still staring, slack-jawed, as he rose and bowed. Alan regretted leaving them but he knew he could be of more good out there, fighting for them, than here, dying with them.

"A moment, please, Sheriff!" he called as he turned toward the door, "For my sins I am Mr. Alan V. Miller and I would also enjoy partaking of... well... whatever it is we're all partaking of over here!" His voice was high and clear, filled with the unreserved glee of a small child freed from school, for the day.

[Tricycle_Knight]

Hawkeye

"Ain't found a way to kill me yet, Sheriff, and I'm pretty sure you know my name already anyway, but for the 'fficial record, y'all can call me Hawkeye."

Hawkeye lines up with others and begins walking out, his face making a menacing, satisfied scowl. Any pangs of guilt or remorse he feels towards his fellow convicts is quickly overridden by a survival instinct that now feels well-fed and content. Listening to his new comrades, he almost gets knocked over by the newcomer's eager attempt to catch up with the rest of the group. Composing himself, he makes his way with the others.

[mangosta71]

Derrick rolls his eyes behind Jake's back, and shakes his head slightly with a small, amused grin when he sees Matilda do the same. Upon hearing of the other inmates' fate, he mutters, "Better them than me." He raises his voice to address their keepers. "I'm Bill."

[Ms.Malbolge]

The deputies take a long look at Alan as he runs after the rest in the line, so eager to escape the confines of his prison, so eager to jump out of the oven and into the fire. They take a long hard look at the man and Alan perhaps feels a little dread at the fact he very well may be thrown back into the cage to die a slow hungry death with the others but it isn't so. With an exaggerated shrug the rear deputies allows the man into the line where he takes up a spot behind Friday. When the group gives their names the chuckling man calms down a bit and seems to think a spell on your names. "Friday, Alan, Jake, Hawkeye, Bill, and Matilda." He says the last name slowly, allowing it to travel the full width and breadth of his foul tongue as he gives the woman a most lecherous look. "That sure be a purty name there Miss Matilda. Too bad we can't be keepin' you back in the cages a bit longer, us deputies could be a usin' a bit o' refreshment." And with that statement the man's sickening chuckle is taken to the air again.

Thankfully the rear deputy shuts up after the lead shoots him a rather venomous look and continues on through the cages. As you walk you may be a bit surprised just how many of the large cages are in the yards and from what you know of Texico there certainly isn't enough people in this hell hole to warrant that many cells. Perhaps there are other things trapped within those wires or perhaps Texico was once a bit larger than it is now. Musings aside you are eventually brought to a small shack built into an old, crumbling stone wall that you know encircles the whole of the prison fields. The walls are old stone, still sturdy but the mortar is crumbling and in some places pieces of rusted tin and other salvaged metals have been bolted onto the walls, no doubt to cover the many holes that lay therein. You are stopped before the small shack, a shack made of weathered planks and pieces of rusted sheet metal that make the small building look nothing more than a lean-to rather than the office governing the entire prison. After being told to form a line parallel to the office the aging sheriff makes himself known, exiting the small building with a badly rolled cigarette smoking between his cracking lips, lips that turn to an odd smile as he looks over you all.

"Well ladies lemme keep this all short n' sweet. We here at ol' Texico be havin' ourselves a bit o' a problem as you no doubt dun guessed." He crosses his leather covered arms as his face takes on a bit of a dark look as his eyes meet each of yours in turn and in those harsh brown orbs you can see how serious the situation really is. "Now I ain't be givin' a good goddamn what you did to piss off our Regent, sonuva whorin' bastard that he is he ain't known for a bein' fair or wise. I locked y'all in here 'cuz thats my job and now I'm a lettin' you out because we need tha man power." He starts pacing before you, eyes still glued to yours as he passes each and every one of you, hands now grasping the back of his belt as he thumbs the bullets placed along the outside of the leather. "So I'mma gonna be a real honest here with ya. A score of hours ago we dun lost our power feed and about four hours ago we a lost all our reserves. As of right now this whole damn town a bein' on 'mergency power. We ain' got 'nuff for the lights or much of anythin' really, just our well and in a few days we ain't be havin' that either. That's right ladies, in a few days we a gonna have innocent people dyin' of one mighty fierce thirst and tha first to do it be a the prisoners. So the Regent in all his wisdom..." you sort of get the idea that the regent isn't the most popular fellow with the sheriff around here, "... has done decided that we a take summa you fine role models of society and posse ya up and send ya to help a figure out whats a happenin' with the power. Still interested in a savin' this hell hole or do we a need ta send ya back to tha cells?"

[Crafty Cultist]

Jake takes a step forward, still grinning optimistically "Freedom, heroics and adventure all in one package? Why, you couldn't keep me away if you tried. Just out of curiousity though, will you provide us with gear? I may be darin', but I think our endeavor will be more successful if we have somethin in the way o' weponry"

[mangosta71]

"What happens to us after? If I'm just gonna be thrown back in there, I got no reason to help y'all."

[Tricycle_Knight]

"My new friend Bill here makes a good point; no sense in risking our necks out in the Wastes to end up back in a cell for the rest of our respective days."

[UncleWolf]

Friday shakes his heads at the others. "It's either dehydrate to death now, or stave off our execution a little longer." He looks at the man who gave them the offer. "I've made my choice. Just point me in the right direction and give me something to defend myself with."

[Artemis97]

"I'll help." Matilda decides quickly. She sure as heck wasn't going to stay around here if she could help it. Not with the way that deputy was looking at her. No, she'd take her chances with this group.

"I'm not half bad at tracking people. If we find signs that someone's tampered with things, that is." The girl figured the more useful she was the less likely they were to toss her back in a cell.

[truemane]

Alan Miller

Alan followed the group out of the cell, his eyes darting hither and yon, a large smile playing on his face. He scowled some at the way the Sheriff talked to Matilda, but then relaxed as she seemed not to be put overly out of countenance by it. If there was one thing that his studies of the Days Before had shown him, it was the women could be heroes too. And just because someone looked meek and mild-mannered, didn't mean they were.

"I don't know that there's all that much I can do for you aside from hang around and keep you entertainined," he said, "But if that's all I can do, I'm willing to do it." His voice made it clear that, far from just willing to come along, someone might actually have to drag him away.

[Ms.Malbolge]

With the sheriff now facing you the two deputies slowly pace around you, looking you each up and down as you talk and no doubt trying to come off as a wee bit intimidating. Jake's comment earns a bit of a smirk from the sheriff but it's Derrick's comment that gets the most obvious reaction. "I got no reason to help y'all..." the sheriff says slowly, seeming to weigh the words upon his tongue as he nods.

It's then that the deputy behind Derrick strikes and all the warning you get is the explosion of gunpowder before a clump of steel birdshot flies into the softness that is your calves. You no doubt at least scream in pain from the unexpected wound and if the force of the shot into the back of your legs wasn't enough to send you sinking to your knees the strong hand pushing down upon your shoulder is. You probably wince as you feel the now burning hot steel of a barrel rest against the back of your head while the sheriff takes a few steps closer to you.

"Now I was a tryin' to be nice and it went without sayin' that ya ladies wouldda been heroes if ya a did this for Texico and here in this town..." he roars the last two words so viciously that spittle comes flying from his scarred lips, "... we don't be a throwin' our heroes into a good god damned cell after they be a savin' our frakkin' rears! Now those a flappin' gums of yours gonna a get yous killed if ya ain't frakkin' careful! Do you get me ladies?

It appears that this minor incident sent the sheriff flying into a rage as he now paces before you all and from the murderous looks he shoots the two deputies standing behind you it becomes rather apparent that someone needs to calm the man down if you all aren't going to be sent back into the cages.

[mangosta71]

Pain, hatred, and outrage flash across Derrick's face by turns. He growls through gritted teeth, "I ain't never did nothin' wrong to get throwed in here in the first place. I don' care 'bout bein' a hero. But if I'll be free after, I'll do it."

[Crafty Cultist]

Jake is startled by the gunshot but quickly resumes smiling "Don't worry my good sheriff, I have experience with helpin' those in need. The rewards of heroism vary from town to town but I know freedom from imprisonment is an old standard. My soon to be freind here doesn't seem used to heroics, but I fancy I can teach him the basics."

Jake then turns to Derrick "The pay for heroism isn't always the best, but there ain't many careers this glamorous"

Diplomacy check to calm down the sherrif[roll0](if alan tries diplomacy then this will be an aid another check)

[UncleWolf]

The Sheriff's words bring Friday's memories of training for his job back to the surface. Funny, this guy was a lot like his drill sergeant. Big, tough, and meaner than hell. Not to mention armed to the teeth.

Though, he had to admit to himself, this one seemed at least slightly smarter than an ox.

Friday flinches when the shot rings out, taking down one of his fellow "volunteers". He's glad the man was still alive, but couldn't help but feel a bit irked that he was just going to slow them down. The Ex(mostly)-prisoner just wanted to get this done and skidattle before their new boss changed his mind.

But first, they had to appease him before he had them all killed. "I believe we understand you perfectly now. Sir." he says as he falls into his "at ease" stance.

[truemane]

Startled and angered by the Sheriff's sudden and unnecessary turn to violence, Alan pauses in his forward stride and the gleeful smile fades from his face. He only pauses for a moment, though, before a smoldering light starts to burn in his eyes and new smile, a different smile, a smile as sharp as glass and as hard as steel, spreads across his features and he steps toward the Sheriff.

And instantly, the air in the room fills with an almost palpable sense of energy that draws the eye toward Alan and makes him seem so compelling that only with effort can eyes be dragged away from him.

"Sheriff, please," he says, and his voice is honeyed sugar, liquid silk, "There's nothing to be gained in injuring the people you're asking to help out. We all know we're all verminous scum and don't deserve the sweat from your brow, let alone your mercy or your compassion, but where's the up-side to you if we can't walk? We solve your little problem, you're the hero, right? We all spend our time stumbling around bleeding into the dirt and what's to be gained? So how 'bout we all take a breath and decide what we need to get done here, hm?"


Swift action to activate my Marshal's aura: Motivate Charisma, thereby adding my Charisma modifier (+3) to all Charisma checks (and that's for everyone from here on, in case it winds up mattering).

And... Diplomacy check!

[roll0]

[Artemis97]

Matilda cringes when the shot rings out and decides the best thing to do right now is to stay quiet. There was no need to get into an argument with the sheriff. She hated that Derrick had been shot just for asking an honest question, but she wasn't going to say so. The girl wasn't going to risk making waves until they were outside the walls of the prison. Then, maybe she would have a chance of running. Or maybe she could stick around and play hero. There was no reason to punish the townfolk for one man's cruelty. For now, Matilda wasn't going to speak up for Derrick. She might see to his legs later on, but not now.

[Ms.Malbolge]

The sheriff stops his pacing and catches his breath, Alan's and Jake's words going a long way towards calming the man down. After a moment of breathing heavily a murderous glare spreads sharply across the mans scarred face and while for a moment you believe that it's aimed at you all it quickly becomes apparent that it's aimed at the deputy behind Derrick who shifts his weight rather nervously. "That was a ruff 'em nod ya whore-son bastard not a shoot 'em in tha back nod, an if ya be a meanin' to be a wastin' precious ammo then next time I'll a be a wastin' some of my own on ya. You got all that boy?" The sheriff's glare remains on the deputy for a long moment but the deputy doesn't make a sounds though its clear he gave some gesture of confirmation as the grizzled sheriff redirects his glare to the prisoners before him once again. He takes a step forward and it appears he is about to something else before you hear a monstrous rumble that causes the sheriff to remain quiet.

The creaking of a nearby vehicle gate, while normally rather loud, is barely heard at all over the sound of what has to be a diesel engine the size of a small house and the sheriff rips his attention away from you to see the monstrosity pulling into the prison yard. It's what you've heard called a bus, or at least it was before whatever madman decided he had way too much time and spare parts to leave such a simple thing as a bus alone. Now over-sized armored tires cause it to sit some two feet off the ground, the hubs of those same tires bear an array of wickedly edged blades that spin oh-so-lazily as the machine creeps into the yard. Mismatched plates of graffitied steel and iron serve as the things armor, blades and jagged edges sticking out from them at every conceivable opportunity and if there were once windows they've long since been covered. The armored bus turns slowly once its rear crosses the wall, bringing the massive bulldozer blade at the things front into full view. The dozer blade bears a circle painted in it's center while inside the circle are two x's painted side by side at the top while a horizontal line is painted across the middle, it's edges curved downward. Below this odd painting are two words which seem to sum up the creation rather nicely and the sheriff rolls his eyes and shakes head as the words 'Deth Bus' are now clearly visible.

"Well ladies it be appearin' that yer ride is already dun here. Now a get on over an' inta that silly little thing y'hear, yer scout be here in a moment. Now get a movin'!" The sheriff barks these orders at you and motions you to move to the bus and you notice that the sheriff and the deputies make no move to join you. Apparently only you will be on this mission to save Texico, well you and whoever this scout is.

[Crafty Cultist]

Jake's eyes light up as the "deth bus" comes to a stop. He runs enthusiastically towards the armoured transport with a look of sheer joy on his face "Now this is what I call travellin' in style!"

Jake then shouts over his shoulder to Derrick "now what did I tell you! Bein' a hero gets you all kinds of cool stuff"

[UncleWolf]

Friday stares over the bus. It looked like a heap of junk about ready to fall apart at the slightest touch.

He gives it a low whistle of appreciation. "Now that is a vehicle." His fingers twitch, itching to see what's "under da hood".

He'll climb on board to wait for the guide, sighing happily as he settles in.

[mangosta71]

Derrick turns his glare to the deputy behind him and spits at the man's feet before pushing himself up and staggering toward the bus. He sinks into the first unoccupied seat and begins picking shot out of his legs.

[Artemis97]

When the 'Deth Bus' rumbles in, Matilda lets out a long, low whistle. "Well, that sure is somethin'."

Matilda had throught to give Derrick a hand, but it seems he was just fine on his own. She heads for the bus, glad for the chance to get away from this place.

[Tricycle_Knight]

Hawkeye gives a rather disbelieving stare, first at his comrade being shot and then to the 'bus' that is taking them to their destination. Not wishing to suffer the same fate as Derrick, he makes his way up the stairs and takes the seat behind Derrick.

"Hey, friend, you gonna be good to walk on that thing?"

[mangosta71]

Derrick glances up at Hawkeye and returns to tending his legs. "Looks worse'n it is." He tears bits of cloth from his shredded pants legs to bind the wounds with a scowl. He mutters, not quite under his breath, "I liked these jeans."

[Ms.Malbolge]

You approach the bus, some slower than others, and find it to be a tad bit larger than most bus-like specimens you may have encountered on your travels but only by a foot or four in each general dimension. Finding yourselves outside where the door of most buses would be you notice only jagged steel plates accented in neon green graffiti barring your way. Suddenly the indignant cry of a rather large bird fills the air and if you look you find the crow-like avian sitting on the edge of the roof, looking down at you and buffeting its wings in some sort of odd challenge. The bird is larger than an obese cat, sleek black feathers covering its form while its long black beak is wickedly jagged and the only thing not black about the bird is a bit of fine red feathers on it's crown and equally red eyes.

The hiss of pressurized air suddenly washes over you and causes the bird to squawk and hiss, pecking the steel of the bus angrily as it does so. This perhaps somewhat amusing display of bird indignation is cut short as the plate it's resting on begins to move to the sound of an hydraulic drone. Once open you are free to climb inside though the fact that the bottom of the stairs is two feet off of the ground makes it a small task though more of a task for Derrick due to his bloodied legs. On the stairs you first notice that the driver's seat is completely enclosed in rough iron armor much like the outside of the bus, leaving you without a clue in the world who is actually driving the thing.

Inside the bus proper things are fairly sparse, heavily gratified walls are lined with two long benches rather than traditional bus seats, oddly flickering lights set in a ceiling so low most of you have to duck a bit as you wander to your seats, and a black canvas curtain drawn closed about halfway down the bus. Upon the canvas in neon purple paint is written "Abandon Hope all ye who enter here" below which another bit is written that says "That means you!" Before the canvas curtain however lay two heavy metal lock boxes stamped with the words 'Texico Armed Services', it no doubt carries whatever gear the sheriff deigned to grant you.

[Crafty Cultist]

Jake rushes over to the boxes and pulls off the lids "All right then, lets see our supplies for this little picnic"

[mangosta71]

Derrick finishes bandaging his legs with a wince before he slides down the bench toward the boxes.

[UncleWolf]

Friday also creeps towards the boxes, but stays a bit behind the others. You know, in case the Sheriff just had a sick sense of humor and decided to trap them.

Still, he hoped it wasn't a joke and that there was a nice revolver with his name on it...

[Artemis97]

As she climbs onto the 'deth bus,' Matilda glances at the enclosed dirver's area, wondering who was holed up in there, and how in the world he saw well enough to drive. On second thought, whatever obstacles this behemouth would face probably didn't stand much of a chance.

Matilda hands back a bit from where the menfolk were gathering. She didn't see a need to push or fight over what little the sheriff might have seen fit to give them. She glances at Derrick, watching him bandage up his legs.

"You ought to be careful to keep those clean. Don't want to get an infection. You could lose both legs to it." She warns him.

[Ms.Malbolge]

Iron reinforced lids are heaved open by the group who take in the meager contents for a moment before sifting through them, all in a vain hope that something useful lay inside. But alas the boxes carry little more than a few days worth of food and water and only the most meager of weapons an armor. A baseball bat with some nails driven through it is one example, a modified sledgehammer serves as another while a few rusty knives and a couple of machetes round out the weapon stash while the armor is just as disappointing. Rough leather long-coats serve as the provided armor, each the color of old dust with the red circle and star of Texico stamped plainly across the back but at least the toughness of the leather combined with some moderate reinforcing should provide at least some protection from knives, if not gunfire.

A slight scoff is heard from the other side of the black canvas curtain and those paying close enough attention find someone peeking out from the heavy fabric's edges. "They don't give ya much do they? But then again I guess they don't need to." comes a slight, almost squeaky voice from the figure behind the curtain before the bus rumbles to life once again and lurches forward. The lurching of the bus causes a small scrap of paper to flutter through the air, no doubt lodged in some corner up until that point, and when it lands you notice an odd question phrased in the most elegant handwriting many of you have ever seen. The note asks cryptically, 'Will you dance to the Star's surrender or will you weep as broken soldiers should?'

Gear Received:Morningstar (Baseball bat w/ Nails)
2 Scimitars (Machetes)
2 Daggers
Maul (Sledgehammer)

4 Leather Armors (Reinforced Dusters)

3 days of food & water.

A scrap of paper with an odd question written upon it.

[Crafty Cultist]

Jake tries on a leather duster and tucks a machete into his belt. "Do any of you mind if I take a knife as well? I'd like to have a backup wepon if there are any to spare"

Jake takes a few swings with the machete "Actally, a dagger or two would probably suit me better"

[UncleWolf]

Friday sighs when he counts the armor, but reaches for one of the machetes first. It wasn't the best, but it was the better than he had. He looks a bit questioningly at where the driver is as he takes an experimental grip on the handle of the machete. "So, they're sending you on this suicide mission too?" The man gives a bit of a look at the others. "Well, it's true. You don't send a half dozen people to reclaim something, let alone a half dozen poorly equipped ex-cons. They're hoping we'll die." He bends over and picks up the paper, reading it over before tucking it into his pocket.

[Artemis97]

Being further back from the boxes, Matilda doesn't immediately grab for the equipment. Instead, the floating piece of paper catches her eye, but Friday beats her to picking it up.

When Jake decides against the machete, the girl holds out a hand for it. "If you don't want that, then, I'll take it."

Friday's remarks earn him a frown. "We ain't gonna die. Well, you might if you keep thinkin' so negatively. We're out of those cells, now, an' that's somethin'. Soon we'll be out of this jail, too. Out there," She gestures to the world beyond the thick metal walls of the bus. "We've got a chance, but if you don't think we're gonna make it, you might as well stay here."

[Crafty Cultist]

Jake hands the machete to Matilda hilt first and gives her a smile "Thats the spirit, and we should get to know each other since we're in this together"

Jake grabs one of the Knives from the crate "The name's Jake Greywater, drifter and jack of all trades at your service. Pleased to make your aquaintance"

[UncleWolf]

Friday blinks a few times as the woman berates him. Once she's done though, he chuckles. "I think we're going to die?" He laughs a bit more. "I don't give a damn if we do. I'm just glad to be out of that cell, and I want a chance to one-up the Sheriff. No way in hell am I going to roll over and be sent to whatever afterlife awaits me just because he wants me to." He says with a grin. "I'm...call me Friday, ex soldier, and I say we do this damned mission right"

[Artemis97]

Matilda takes the machete and tests the weight of it, liking how it feels in her hand. She laughs with Friday. "Well, that's more like it." The girl says with a smile. "An' I'm Matilda. Matilda Sherwood. You can call me Matty if you like. An' I," She pauses and grins broadly, knowing her roots were oh so glamorous. "Was a farm girl."

[mangosta71]

Derrick meets Matilda's eyes at her comment about caring for his wounds, his expression one of annoyed, sarcastic gratitude. He closes his eyes after a moment, visibly taking hold of his temper, and offers a warm smile and acknowledging nod.

He takes a duster from the crates and tucks a knife up one sleeve. With a wry grin, he says, "Bill Compton. Ya might say I was a bodyguard."

[Crafty Cultist]

Jake goes over to the crate again and picks up the baseball bat, taking a batter's stance and getting a feel for the thing "Now this looks like it could break a few heads"

[UncleWolf]

Seeing that the other man didn't grab the duster, Friday grabs it for himself, pulling it onto his broad shoulders. He shrugs a bit, trying to get comfortable. It was lighter armor than he was used to, but it'd do for now. "Well, could be worse. They could be sending us in unarmed."

[Ms.Malbolge]

A squeaky little sigh erupts from the back of the bus, black canvas doing little to disguise its disdain and doing even less to obscure the words of whoever hides behind it. "We are so frakkin' doomed." The sound of a rattling chain is then heard as the heavy black canvas slowly begins to move to the side, inch by inch until the back half of the bus is revealed. The back looks far more like a living space than the front. Though while the walls are still graffitied there are no benches along the wall but instead there rests an over sized and overstuffed love seat covered in what appears to be coyote fur at the far end of the bus. Bits of mirror and other shiny odds and ends are attached to the ceiling while heavy steel lockers line the walls, each one closed and sealed with massive key and combination locks and while all this draws your eye the girl standing in the middle of it perhaps draws more attention than the rest.

Spikey brown hair tops a young woman only five or so feet tall with a lightly muscled build and a playful looking face with large almond eyes and lips perhaps a bit too accustomed to smirking. She wears a light, dust colored leather jacket studded with bits of metal spikes and the occasional metal plate, worn open to reveal a torn black shirt with 'Sqrrl Grrl!' written across the chest in the loudest neon green you've no doubt ever seen while a wide belt holds up armored pants similar to her jacket. On her belt is a pair of old relic revolvers painted black to no doubt keep the sun from reflecting off of them while a strap across her chest holds an ancient looking machine gun of some sort, very minimalist with a large drum clip attached midway down the weapon and just as black as the pistols at her hips.

She looks you all over for a moment before she seems to visibly wilt, taking a few steps back before plopping heavily into the fur covered love seat at the back of the bus. "He's right y'know. They're all bankin' that you'll die screaming in some back alley of Oaksee, making as much noise as ya can to bring all the nasty running. And I'm the one that's supposed to lead ya to that grisly end." She looks up at you all through her brown bangs before shrugging slightly and placing her hands on her knees. "But lucky for guys I ain't exactly comfy with leadin' y'all to your deaths. Name's Deb by the way, and I'm your controller for this little suicide mission of yours.

[mangosta71]

Derrick nods. "So, why exac'ly should we put our necks on the line for 'em? Once we're offa this thing, we can jus' go. They'll assume we're dead, so they won' come lookin' for us."

[Crafty Cultist]

Jake strides confidently toward Deb and takes a bow, then straigtens himself "It's my pleasure to meet you Deb, I'm glad we have such a kind commander."

Jake pushes up the brim of his hat with his index finger, his rougish smile never leaving his face "And can I just say that with a boss this pretty, I'll be sure to follow orders"

[UncleWolf]

Friday shakes his head at Derrick's suggestion. "You don't get it. She's our guide, which means she works for the Sheriff. Which means..." He says, nodding politely to her. "That she's likely our executioner if we scram. Even if she doesn't like the idea of killing us, they probably have her under a deal similar to ours, holding something over her." He then gestures at the lockers. "You wouldn't happen to have anything better that we can use, would you? If we're to survive and hold our end of the deal, we need any edge we can get."

[Artemis97]

"Nice to meet you." Matilda says with a smile, after Deb introduces herself. In all honesty, she was glad there was a woman in charge of this little operation of theirs. At the very least, it would distract the boys long enough for Matilda to grab the last duster and slip it on.

[mangosta71]

Derrick eases himself down onto a bench and stretches out his legs. He flips the knife out of his sleeve into his hand and begins cleaning underneath his nails. His eyes invite anyone to have a seat next to him but they linger a moment longer on Matilda, as if she's especially welcome to join him.

"Any o' y'all been outside the city before?"

[Crafty Cultist]

Jake takes a seat next to derrick, relaxing without a care in the world. "Why I sure have! Been travellin' from city to city all my life. Some people will tell you its dangerous, but you just need to travel light, run from anything bigger than you and have a whole lotta luck."

Jake flashes his smile yet again and looks over his companions with a single, half-opened eye "And since were all getting out of prison for a simple job at the power station, I'd say luck is on our side at the moment"