"Shizzle I'll just hop off me chikun an' builda campfire."
"Shizzle I'll just hop off me chikun an' builda campfire."
The group rides out Hell bent for leather, putting distance between them and the ant swarm. The rest of the day passes fairly uneventfully, and at the end of it, they approach Whitcomb Summit.
Whitcomb Summit is crowned with a Fort/Waystation called Whitcomb Eyrie. A squat, walled building, the Eyrie shows scars of many skirmishes on its duralloy walls. Watchtowers on the corners look out over the mountains, the guards in them swiveling .50 cal. machineguns to and fro.
The group rides up to the gate, and a squad of plainly-dressed beings toting assault rifles greets them. The Whitcomb Rangers are well known in the area: Part monk, part park ranger, part innkeeper, A Whitcomb Ranger is dedicated to keeping the Mohawk Trail open to traffic, a thankless task.
The squad leader looks at our heroes:
"Welcome to Whitcomb Eyrie, folks. All weapons have to be checked if you want to enter. We have no rooms in the hostel at the moment, but you are welcome to rent some space in our courtyard. Supper tonight is Wild Turkasaur with sage stuffing. We acccept most cash, or trade items on a case-by-case basis. We're always on the lookout for books, and we'll give top trade value for 'em."
Chiro looks for a likely place near water to let Creeper take root for the night.
"Courtyards good for me, or do you have a roof I could hang from?"
Waggles his wings and flexes his foot claws.
The squad leader looks the group over.
"You folks Noratom Millita?"
When you affirm this he relaxes a bit.
"Name's Sharls McAmerst. I can take your weapons, and I'm sure the Sarge will comp you on the night's stay."
Sharls looks rueful.
"Still can't get you a room, overfilled with refugees at the moment." He looks at Chiro "But there's plenty of eaves you can roost on Mister."
Sharls glances to his left and addresses a younger Ranger.
"Take these gents' shooting irons, but leave them any cutlery for now."
The young man steps forward with a pad of paper and pen in hand.
Roach hands over his revolver and the AK. "The AK's a piece o' junk, but don't lose my handcannon, as I rather like that one. Not that I need to tell ya, of course. Now, where's that turkeysaurus?"
<Hands over his weapons.>
"Keep 'em handy, will ye?"
takes off vest
"'Ere ya goe, Ranga. Is eazier iffens Ah jus' ponys up da 'hole ting. Dat ways we'uns don' gotta count dey grenadys one bys one. Yall ken hold m' trowin' roks likewize- but iffens yall need ta use 'em, don' mixk 'em up."
follers ta oters ta vittles
"Hey Ranga-man, Yall wans ta heer 'bout da buggers wez waz eyeballin' up da trail. Deys sho waz sum mean uns. Deys gots a trap-like ahl laid outs."
"Ah, yeah, goddamn ants. Lil' buggers almost ate my boots - and without boots, no man's long for this world. Someone ougtha go back and napalm the lil' monsters."
Eva listens to Billy Ray's explanation oif the ants, she fondly remembers their hive mind behavior and their ingenuity with the lure they laid, she appreciates their beauty as they work as one, much like the parts of a fine oiled Machine, she will miss observing them. Eva offers up her crossbow and baton. Eva asks "do you have any need of electrical repairs, I would offer that service in exchange for a nights sanctuary"
The young Ranger takes the weapons from the group and hands each a chit stating what they gave over. Sharls looks grave when the ants are mentioned.
"I'll have to send a squad over with some white phosphorous, mebbe some napalm. Thankee sai for the heads up."
Sharls guestures over at a large building a few hundred feet further in from the gate.
"Stables is right over yonder. I'll go talk to the Sarge about your campsite. Tell the corporal in charge that Corporal McAmerst said to stable you folks up comped for the moment. I'll meet y'all there. Should be serving supper at the chow hall in about an hour."
As the group walks through the thick walls, they discover the inside is very large. Whitcomb Eyrie is more of a walled village than a castle, although it does have an inner keep with a wall of its own.
Buildings built of Golden Age rubble line the thick walls. A smithy is in evidence, as is a tavern and a tannery. The Eyrie looks as if it is usually clean and efficient, but this is somewhat marred now by a confusing cluster of refugee wagons.
Tents of all shapes, sizes and states of repair are pitched wherever there is an unoccupied mud patch. Refugees chatter amongst themselves and with uniformed residents. Despite the packed surroundings, the overall mood is fairly calm, no real anger or hostility in evidence.
The Whitcomb Rangers are the only folks in sight sporting guns, but the group sees a few refugees sporting overly-long knives at their belts.
The Corporal at the stables takes in their mounts, leading each one to a section dedicated to their type. He gives them a chit like they got with their weapons. Cpl. Sharls McAmerst shows up just as they finish settling in their mounts for the evening.
"Sarge says you're free to camp, no charge. There's a spot reserved for you in the big lot next to the stables here if you have tents. The Tenant would like to have a word with you after supper. He'll be at the Lookout, our tavern. Big guy, gold bars on shoulders, very furry."
Sharls hands out a few tokens to each of you.
"Each of these is a free meal at the chow hall. Good food, if a little bland. you can always eat at the Lookout, but that'll cost you dear these days. Our rations aren't as full as we'd like."
Sharls looks over his shoulder
"I got to get back to the gate. You folks take care, hear?"
Sharls jogs off.
Eva looks at her food chip and sees no use for it, she looks at the size of her comrades and hands it over to Billy Ray "This is so I so not have to ride behind you anymore on the trail Bigin"
"Chow time, brothas."
<Heads off to the chow hall looking for bland food and gossip.>
"Alcohol not made by my own self, and also not made from pine cones and crabgrass? We are truly living in the lap of luxury." Roach wanders off after Coca-Cola.
"Mmmm food, cooked food, mmmm."
Chiro will take his meal chit and head for the inviting smells.
Accepts EVA's food chit
"Thankee ma'm. Ah'll put it ta gud use."
"Yall don needs te wury bout supper for Peg 'ere. 'E et him a heapa vittles yesteday, an 'es still dijestin'. Jest don let nun o' dem folks sleep nowheres nears ta 'im- 'e lihks ta nibbles."
As the place is full o' refegees, Billy-Ray shouldn't have any trouble findin' a needy type to pass off his spare food chit to. He'll try to do so while nobody's watching. Truth to tell, Billy-Ray's got a soft spot for kids and pets- at least the plump ones.
He'll join his partners at the food trough, and wait to follow them to see the Head Ranger after eating.
The chow hall is a large barn-like building packed with narrow tables and bench seating. Most tables are filled with a motley crowd of refugees. A cafeteria-style line is at the front, with piles of white meat and stuffing being handed out to the crowd of hungry folks. The group gets a plate of sliced Turkasaur meat, gravy, and some sage stuffing for their token. A glass of weak ale completes the meal.
The group finds a table and begins chowing down.
The group finds a table and begins chowing down.
"I think we should mingle, brothas. Keep your ears open."
Diplomacy, gather info, listen: (1d20=15, 1d20=16, 1d20 7=17)
<Wanders off... finds some travelers>
"Hey there fellows, mind if I sits?..."
Will find a quiet place to consume vittles. While he eats Chiro will check out the travelers in the room. Anyone look dangerous or interesting?
Iffens wez gon be socilizin', den Billy-Ray'll fin som big folks ta palaver wit. Otter bricks be fin cumpany.
"Yall min' iffen Ah sits heer? Where yu folks from?"
TRLs (true regenerating lifeforms) are a rare breed of genetech. Originally created by the same rogue nanotech engineers who developed the ORC, they were an attemp at creating a healer/medic for the feral orc tribals. Their base code was stolen from the city's labs for it's listed 'healing abilities' and used without an understanding of its original purpose. As 'medics', they were insufficiently able to share healing, and were seen as a failure by their rogue developers.
As time went by, it was noticed that the TRL gene was excessively dominant, causing all children of the suprising fertile lifeforms to be born with the regen trait. Popular rumors spread that the trait was so strong that ingesting TRL flesh and blood would result in acquiring the trait. This led to atrocities where TRLs were chained and repeatedly harvested to provide materials.Surviving TRLs who had either escaped or remained free quickly made themselves scarce, and few outsiders remember the anciet rumors.
Billy-Ray's ancestors originally settled in remote, inhospitable areas to avoid notice. With the inbred ability to digest most organics and survive trauma, they had no trouble surviving in areas where others could not. And since they remember the old troubles, avoiding populated areas was a firm habit. Over time, the isolated group forged bonds with other rural tribes (especially plant-based races who were known to be unaffected by TRLish genetics) and the rare traveling tinkers. While their overall tech level became lower than the average survivor comunity, they developed strong animal husbandry skills, domesticating such creatures as the porkuswine and the shock-rat.
Billy-Ray left the homestead after a Wrecker scouting party fire-bombed the farm from their ultra-lites during the community's weekly family day/gripe session/sing-a-long. They never realized that they had chosen one of the few forms of assualt that the mutated community couldn't survive. Billy-Ray, who was often absent from the festivities (since he couldn't carry a tune in a bucket), returned to find only burned out rubble where his kin had lived.
Since then he has traveled generally east, merging with the refugees and discovering a love of meeting new folks. He eventually made it to Noratom where he joined the local militia, who were the first folks who offered him a chance to fight back against the 'Rekkers' who had destroyed his home. As time goes by, he expects to gain a greater understanding of guns and such to use against those who wronged him. For now, he will relie on his genetic abilities and his Daddy's club to see him thru.
Roach plops down in an empty spot somewhere. "Wazzup, fellas?"
Eva seems a bit awkward looking for a place to mingle with others, instead she looks for a quiet corner to sit by herself. She watches the room and wonders why food is such an important custom for social nicities....
...
"Hey there fellows, mind if I sits?..."
" ... wit you?" Cocaman finds a group of riders that look well traveled. Empty gunbelts attest to the fact they are well-heeled as well. He sits with the group and has a nice palaver over the Turkasaur dinner. The three men are traders in old tech, riding back and forth from the ancient ruins of Pitts to the south and selling items to the Appalachians. Coca and them trade war stories, and Coca gets some good local gossip from them.
There is a town called Florda down the Mohawk Trail where a lot of refugees from Appalachee have settled, and it is riling up the native community a bit. To make matters worse there has been a rash of disappearances, and the two groups are blaming each other.
Hoop attacks have been more common as of late. The Hoops have been sporting fancy new guns as well, leading some to suspect the Zootocracy of Verminont is using them as cats-paws to disrupt the Appalachee refugees. The Verminonters are known not to be happy with the humanoids streaming into the area.
The HVCS has lately been sending more supplies to Appalachee. There is a large contingent of androids and robots at this moment in the Eyrie headed towards Noratom. Rumor has it that the controlling computer OMNUS is attempting to bolster resistance clandestinely to the Wreckers, especially after adamantly refusing to send combatants or weaponry into the battles further west.
<Lots of head nodding and "thankee sah".>
While eating, Chiro notices a group of what look like Pure Strainers all sitting together. They are dressed in black, but the men have brightly-colored shirts under their coats. They look very similar to Wreckers, but no one seems to be bothering them.
Near these odd folk are a group of Badders, mutated badgers. They are dressed in tartan kilts and sporrans. They are a raucos bunch, guffawing and thumping each other's back.
Billy Ray finds a family of travelling refugees to sit with that seem to be large mutated humanoids. He hands his extra token over to one of the (relatively)little 'uns who seems to have finished up his plate a mite quick and still looks hungry.
The Ogah family came from the Albnee Confederation, and have been on the road for about a month. They used to have a 40-acre farm out in the Mechsburg area, but of course the Wreckers came. Seein' as though the family averages 8' in height and all of them sport a profusion of bony horn-like growths on their heads it was a safe bet the Wreckers wouldn't cotton to them.
Zeb Ogah doesn't have a lot of good information, just road rumors. He's hoping he can find work in Florda, as his wagon needs repairs. He would like to push south, maybe to Happy Valley itself. The robot folk may be weird, but there's supposed to be plenty of good farming acreage out there. Zeb has six kids to feed, and it's a powerful chore to find grub for such a hungry bunch.
Roach plops down in an empty spot somewhere. "Wazzup, fellas?"
Roach sits with a group of Rangers eating a meal after a patrol. The fact he is Noratom millita sits well with them and they include him in their palaver.
The group is back from looking for Ol' Splayfoot, a semi-legendary rogue killbot from the Final Wars. It has supposedly become active again recently after years of no sightings. The aging killbot is supposed to still have functioning weapon systems, and a very large chassis.
Roach discovers that in the keep the Colonel is the boss' title, and he is also the librarian to a huge cache of books. One of the Rangers tells Roach it might be as many as 50,000, all in a subterranian vault. The Eyrie is part of the loose alliance known as the Restorationists, a group dedicated to preserving and recreating the Golden Times.
Roach is told that the Mohawk Trail for the most part is a well-patrolled area, but things get wild once you leave the Grenfield area. A lot of folks travel south down the Neticut River, but that large body of water has a few dangers all its own. The river has mutated gators, piranha, and river pirates in profusion. The HVCS patrols its area of the river, but besides them it's catch-as-catch-can.
E.V.A. watches the flesh folk refuelling, a haphazard and inefficient method at best. She once again thanks her creator for making sure she had the latest in quantum ZPE collectors. Barring accidents she will be walking around when the sun goes nova.
A few of the refugee men and male Rangers let their eyes wander over E.V.A., but she is used to the attention. Her soma was designed to inspire reproductive urges among male humanoids after all, and her sub-programming gives many non-verbal cues to males that she is a fertile young female.
E.V.A.'s attention is attracted to the outside of the chow hall window she is seated by. There is a group of mechanical folk clustered around a large grey van. The van sports the infinity-loop-within-a-computer-screen symbol of the HVCS.
Billy-Ray spends some time wit' dah Ogahs, talkin' 'bout farm life an' sech. Do dey know anyting more 'bout ta 'Appy Vali folks or ar dey jest hopin'? He tink's dey may wanna talk ta EVEy 'bout livin' nigh t' bot town. Is EVE nearby?
Zeb don't have much by way of real intel. Happy Valley is a strange land if you listen to the palaver around refugee campfires. The head computer is a big'un left over from the Golden Age. It calls itself OMNUS and it controls everything with an iron fist clothed in velvet.
Honest, hard-working folk can always find work there, but you gotta do EVERYTHING the computer tell you, an' it watches over you all the time. You mess up it's one, two, three strikes you're back on the road.
Do something real bad and you might disappear into the Recidivist Complex. No one comes outta that big grey building. You play along an' OMNUS does good by you, but lotsa folks can't stand havin' some nosy piece of soultech peekin' over their shoulder 24-7.
Problem Zeb sees is that the lands around here are pretty wild. One thing to be breakin' soil as a young couple, but with little 'uns and wild Hoops whooping it along the warpath alla time, maybe being under constant surveillance ain't such a bad idea.
E.V.A is sitting alone by a far window glancing out at this moment.
*BURP
Coca nods to his buddies (and EVA when nobody is looking) and seeks out this tenant being.
After feeding himself, Chiro will also take a stroll in the Tenant's direction. He is looking to get permission to scout around at night and not get shot coming back.
Coca and Chiro amble along in the deepening twilight towards The Lookout tavern. The tavern has a sign with a spyglass on it superimposed over a mountain. Loud talking spills from the open door of the tavern.
Inside is a chaotic tangle of folks, refugee and Ranger alike, all eating, drinking and talking. The tavern's walls are lined with mounted heads of various strange mutie animals and pieces of old-tech. A machine in the back plays strange loud jangling music while electric lights flash from its shiny chrome chassis.
Towards the back of the large tavern is a table empty save for a large brown-furred fellow. He is dressed in the camoflage pattern of the Whitcomb Rangers, and on his shoulders two small gold-colored bars are attached. He looks like he could be a cousin of Grumphf, the surly bear mutie beekeeper in Noratom. Unlike Grumphf, this mutant's fur is combed to a glossy sheen and barbered to an even length. He gives off a subtle feeling of correctness, as if everything is in its place.
The bear mutant spots Chiro and Coca and waves a large paw, beckoning them to the table. When they come to it he rises up, revealing a 7-foot stature and sticks out a paw to shake. A deep basso voice rumbles out of him.
"You two must be some a' them millita folk Corporal McAmerst told me about. I'm Tenant Graag Littlepaw, but just call me Tenant, pretty near everyone does 'round here."
The Tenant gestures for them to be seated.
"Let the Eyrie buy you something to wet y'alls whistle. What's your poison?"
"BEER!"
"Thank you sir, what a fine mal you are."
"Howday, Sah!"
<Coca'a eyes bug out a little when he sees the size of the Tenant.>
"Beer will do fine."
The Tenant waves to a girl carrying a tray.
"three Eagle Eye Ales and a bottle of that good hootch Maren has hidden under the bar, Marai. Bring some shot glasses too."
The Tenant looks at the two
"I just asked you over to get a little info on the road, what the mood is in Noratom, Wrecker movements, things like that. Also wanted to ask where y'all are headed considerin' the Wreckers are nigh to Appalachee."
"I just asked you over to get a little info on the road, what the mood is in Noratom, Wrecker movements, things like that. Also wanted to ask where y'all are headed considerin' the Wreckers are nigh to Appalachee."
"We're not fe real headed anywhere except those places where we can do some scroungin fer weapons o' war, an' to send any militia or mercs dat we can off to Noratom to help in da defendin, sah. They gots a few days we reckon."
Once Roach notices that Coca-Cola and Chiro are gone, he rounds up Billy-Ray and EVA. "Time to see the bossman, methinks." The gang plops in about five minutes after the initial arrivals.
"An fer that matter it'd be stratigicully inadvisable teh be sayin' our exactin' whereabouts. That said, when the time comes, you should know that Noratom's defense benefits yer rangers. Although if it were up te me rulin' Noratom I'd evacuate and fall back to the pass. This here's good fightin' grounds."
Once Roach notices that Coca-Cola and Chiro are gone, he rounds up Billy-Ray and EVA. "Time to see the bossman, methinks." The gang plops in about five minutes after the initial arrivals.
As Roach looks for Eva he does not see her were she sat down, she has made her way out of the building to inspect the other synthetics and see if they have any data files for trade. She also offers her repair skills to any synthetic in need. "Binary beeps and bings" Eva provides a simple greeting to the synthetics in a binary language that sounds like a rotodial telephone
The Tenant grins, revealing a very toothy smile surrounded by black gums.
"I don't blame you in the slightest. You don't know me from dirt, so it's all good you want to keep a few things shady. We all know that Noratom is the plug in the pass. Next thing from you is us. We're already trying to deal with the refugees from Albnee been travelling this past month. We gots Hoops makin' raids an' all sortsa weird junk flushed outta the corners by all the travelling meat coming by. I'm just looking for some feeling about what you think is going on back out Albnee way."
"I'm the S2 of this post, kinda the intellegence-gathering guy. Anything you can give me is appreciated."
While you are giving the mutie bear a little of the intel from the Albnee area, the young girl comes back with a tray with three draft beers and a flat bottle with three shot glasses. The Tenant smiles and thanks her, signing a slip she gives him. He dishes out the brews, then pours a generous shot for each of you.
"To better days." The Tenant toasts.
The large bear knocks down the shot and pulls on his beer.
"It's good shine, been aged 4 years in a burnt oak barrel like in the old days."
As the three knock back their drinks Roach and Billy Ray enter.
E.V.A. approaches the robotic group busily performing maintenance on their large half-track van. They are an assorted lot, from semi-humanoid specialty robots to almost human-looking androids like E.V.A. They work in silence, but E.V.A. can sense them communicating, the flying lidar beams exciting her senses. She approaches and requests access to the GroupSpeak node. The binary access tag is granted to her, and her conciousness is plugged into the collective mindspace of the HVCS machines. The overmind architect of the node queries E.V.A.
Binary:
::Inquiry. Status. Protocol. Please identify yourself::
Bloody hell - drinkin' good booze without us? Well, such are the perks of bein' on time... Roach shakes the bear's paw before sliding down next to Chiro.
Firewall up, scan for incoming virus...........
Link established...send identification.........
000100111110000110000111 011111001 110001010000
E.V.A. S3500 [erotic vibrant autonomaton synthetic model 3500]
Utlity model skill roster......
01110101 10101010 101000001 0101010 00101010
Computer Use+11[+13]
Craft(mechanical)+11
Craft (Electronic)+11
Craft(Chemical)+5
Decipher Script+6
Demolitions+7[+9]
Diplomacy+1
Disable Device+11[+13]
Disguise+1
Forgery+6
Investigate+8
Knowledge(technology)+6
Knowlege(Art)+5
Knowledge(Arcane Lore)+10
Listen [+2]
Move Silently+5
Navigate+5
Perform(Dance)+2
Profession(companion)+7
Repair+11[+15]
Research+7
Search+6[+8]
Spot[+2]
Sense Motive+1[+5]
Spellcraft+5
I assume the computer mind is straight forward this is EVA's way of lettign the collective decide if she can be of use...
"EVA 3500 offering assistence with available programing for any data files pertaining to the wreakers"
Bloody hell - drinkin' good booze without us? Well, such are the perks of bein' on time... Roach shakes the bear's paw before sliding down next to Chiro.
After making your introductions, the Tenant calls Marai for another two beers and shotglasses for the both of you. He questions you like he did Coca and Chiro, just looking for whatever you can give him by way of intellegence.
A second bottle of Maren's 4-year hooch shows up after the first gets toasted up, and the four of you are feeling little pain soon.