""   ""

      "
"          "
 "        "
  "      "
    """"

Roadkill just smiles.

"Still, what are mates for? Want to take a look around or what?"

Smoker lights his pipe, and as an afterthought offers the flame to Roadkill.

rowan Sighs I suppose so love".
"It seems pointless sometimes, if we do not rebuild then how will the generations after us remember us though."
"There has to be more than just surviving the waste lands."
"A castle nice thought, but a fortified keep witha town to build up and protect would be nicer, or one we could join and put our skills and lives to good use in"
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:23, Sat 05 May 2012.

In reply to Roadkill (msg #40):

Driving past all the, all he can think is 'Noobs' swinging their bits of sticks or pipes, roadkill can only think how ridiculous they all are.

"wow, i guess this is what people do if they don't have a convey? practice with sticks to become something."

An uneasy thought comes to Roadkill

"ha"

Remembering that Ian is somewhat of a law dog

"Maybe better than killing and raping to join a road gang... yeah"

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg #42):

Overhearing Rowan's comment about how do people remember you, Jane felt compelled to answer.  "We are remembered by our actions Rowan.  Good and bad.  That's why I have a journal.  Hopefully it will still be around after I am gone and perhaps even expanded upon.  Our stories are our legacies.  All buildings start the same.  Ideas and the ground.  Perhaps they just need people to show them that muscle can be built from swinging swords or digging ground or that if they want ramparts to fight on help build them.  Give them something of theirs to fight for.  People fight harder if their blood and sweat went into the making.  It's part of them."

Feeling foolish for having blurted out her feelings on the subject she turned and started to straighten up and secure the items in the back of the deuce even thought hey didn't need it.

"You can be remembered for something greater than brawling, though. Build something, fix something, do something, to actually benefit folks rather than just fight with them or for them. What does fighting ever prove? Except who's the biggest bully, the most capable brawler."

Smoker drew on his pipe. He supposed everyone thinks in terms of what they do best. He fixed things, got them to work, cannabilised stuff to make other stuff go. That made him happy. Maybe if you are good at brawling, you see some meaning to it, over and above just chasing off whatever thug you'd been brawling with so you could get on with something else....

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg #45):

Jane smiled to herself.  That was what she had said.  Perhaps not in so few words but she believed in building things and keeping what you built.  For both of those things you needed to put effort and muscle into it.

Ian looks at the squires practicing, he see so many young faces. He knows that many of them will follow with a Templar and get themselves killed like Micheala.  He just hopes that they are able to to some good in the world.

At Roadkill's statement, Ian replies with "Ya, they are trying to do something to make the world a better place."

Laughing, Schaeffer lit his own cigarette while they had a pause. He was sorting his gear like he did on occasion when he had a chance.

"Smoker, my friend, if that's all a warrior is to you, then you had better Goddamned believe me when I say that, Templars aside, I'm the biggest fucking bully and brawler around! You do not understand real soldiers like me, nor real warriors like the Templars, if you think all we do is destroy.

"Like them, I risk my life to protect those weaker than I. (This includes you.) For that is the highest calling of a soldier and a warrior, to defend others so they can build and not have it taken away. We all have our places. This is theirs."

He pitched his smoke and, laying down his carbine next to his Mauser, retrieved the long waterproof cloth-covered object that he always carried lashed to his pack. Schaeffer then took off his boonie hat and put on his red airborne beret instead, suddenly looking every inch the offizier. (It helped that he shaved that morning.)

"Go on, have the last word, my friends, tell me how violence solves nothing or you can't hug someone with nuclear arms. I see I have work to do."

Schaeffer seemed amused, not angry. It wasn't the first time he'd been lectured!

Striding away from the vehicles towards the kids as they practiced he unwrapped the object. The cloth revealed a plain curved black sheath containing a sword with an iron basket hilt. Attaching the scabbard to his waist he positioned himself where they could all see him. Some would-be squires paused but others continued sparring.


Schaeffer came erect, as if reviewing the troops back on the parade ground. He drew the antique sword and came to attention (holding it in front of and close to his face) revealing the immaculate Söllingen steel blade of a Prussian cavalry sabre, gleaming silver in the sun.

Swinging the sword down to point along his right leg (at parade rest) he barked out in a voice well-accustomed to command:

"ACHTUNG! ALLE KOMMEN SIE HIER! SCHNELL! SCHNELL! All of you come here, quickly now, and line up in front of me!

"My name is Oberst Schaeffer. You may call me Colonel."

"Let me be clear: I am not a Templar. Yet I understand that within each of you is the heart of a noble warrior. Or you would not come all this way and cross the wall of death to be here, to offer your lives for something higher. I shall teach you what I can to help you survive, in the short time I have. Pay attention now. Let us begin."

In a heartbeat they were lined up With a few economical movements of his own sword he had the gaggle of youngsters practice a basic weapon drill.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:50, Sun 06 May 2012.

In reply to COL Kurt L. Schaeffer (msg #48):

"God I hate the War some days. Kept good people dying on both sides daily. Glad a few of us made it through. Damned silly Kraut. Hey Kurt we should teach them basic shooting skills to a decent shot kills em just as dead as a sword and generally keeps the kids safe." Airen starts walking towards the assembled group carrying his rifle case. He slowly unpacks it and puts it together. It honestly looks just like an old Sharps Big .50 Buffalo Rifle except the bore is almost twice the size it should be.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:20, Sat 05 May 2012.

In reply to Tech. Sgt. Airen Crichton (msg #49):

Grinning at Airen, Schaeffer paused in his instruction but had his "students" continue practicing.

"A very impressive weapon indeed, Sergeant!"

"Ya, I agree that a gun is much more effective than a sword. But they haff no guns! And skill with a sword may help them become Templars."

"They can take a few shot each with this one if we can find some metal lying about. And finding a gun well the first road gang that they help defeat should have one or two." Airen finds a smallish piece of rebar broken off of some rubble and opens a hatch on the side and loads the rebar in.

In reply to Tech. Sgt. Airen Crichton (msg #51):

It had been about a half hour since they arrived at the Temple. There was no sign of Tasmin after she asked them to wait and then went inside.

No sign of Trejo, either.

Ammo hadn't been a problem for Crichten, some of the "sparring weapons" were rusted lengths of rebar but there were a few metal scraps that had been hacked off and not collected as salvage, yet.

Evidently, some Templars did use guns and practiced with them because there was a shooting range off to the side of the practice field.

Schaeffer and the students gathered around Crichton as he sighted in on a wooden target backed by sandbags.

Peter accepted the touch from Jane and tried not to smile since he was irate at her having been injured in the first place and almost dying. But he was glad that wasn't dead, and that she was okay. The touch was nice and it cracked the frown a bit. He helped her up and shook his head so as to not worry her. "I'm fine, Jane. Glad you are too." He nodded to Rowan. "Thank you, Rowan."

After Trejo pulled out, he quietly muttered a "Dick."

He got back in the truck and followed after the Templar Tasmin. He looked around at the place and gave a small shrug as they waited as told. He refrained from snorting or rolling his eyes at the Colonel offering fairy tales to his witch.

"They have their own ways and beliefs. Even if we don't agree with them, we should respect them. Michaela was one of them, or at least was training to be one." He was proud that his voice stayed steady as he spoke. He still didn't like to think about how the squire was dead. He had liked the spunky Michaela.

He easily ignored Roadkill and the others as they talked about violence and the war. He shook his head, though. Some of them were young and some were old. Some had no idea what they were talking about. Peter hadn't fought in the war. He'd been too busy making a buck. And he'd paid for it. But that was the past.

He glanced at Jane when she patted his arm and stood nearby. He thought for a moment about pulling her inside for a good kissing but she was already light on her feet. He opened the door once more and stepped out. He leaned in close, "You sure you're alright, Janey?"

He looked at Rowan and Smoker and thought about replying but the Colonel beat him to it so he let it go. He lit up a cigarette and puffed at it. "Not that I ain't a patient man, but how long we supposed to wait around?"

"I have no idea Peter, wish I did"
Rowan considers.
"I am feeling like a wall flower at a party and I find my self not liking the situation"
Rowan turns as she hears trickster behind her yip from the back of the technical.
" yes you wished to add some thing she asks politly"

Rowan turns as she hears trickster behind her yip from the back of the technical.
" yes you wished to add some thing she asks politly"
</quote>
I find my self stiring from where my lady covered me to keep the rain off me, nice to be dry and warm and fed.
Still I wish she would not take me some of the strange places she seems to have to go to. why do I hear such strange things in those places any sane being would avoid.
Looking out we are some where I do not know better let her know I am awake I guess

Smoker listened to Schaeffer's speech quietly.

"Each to his own, Kurt. If that's where your heart lies, what you are good at... best to do it as well as you can, and in support of the right causes."

He sat quietly watching the sword drills, then helped scavenge metal scraps for Crichton's monster weapon.

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg #56):

Ian asks around for the contact that he was given so he can deliver the package.

Airen climbs a small "hill" of rubble and aims down at the target. Airen spends a few moments sighting then unleashes a single shot from his "rifle". The shot drills the center of the target leaving a good sized hole bored cleanly through. "I need a length of rope that is weighted to see how far the round went. After I figure the depth I will let you kids shoot a round or two if the energy packs can handle it."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:17, Sun 06 May 2012.

While they were waiting, Jane took out her journal and started to write in it again.  She noticed that she was getting close to the end of this one and would soon need to start another.  Was it a coincidence that just as she was finishing up one aspect of her life that she was also finishing up one of her journals?

Jane sat down by the wheels of their truck and started to write while the light was still good.

In reply to Jane Guin (msg #59):

All this action makes Roadkill smile. He sees the Colonial arguing about 'the war" once again this time with smoker, Airen completely geeking out with his creations, Peter looking tired, he probably had nightmares again too. Jane scribbling away, Trejo rushing off on his own again and Rowan talking to a dog.

"How different can they be"

Roadkill locks up the truck, starts to roll a cigarette and heads in the direction of Ian. Probably a good idea to stick with the package he thinks.

Scrounging around, Smoker found a couple pieces of metal that looked like they would fit into Crichton's wonder-weapon.

---

Using the name he'd been given, "Cpl. Boniface", Sullivan asked around. One of the Downtowners directed him to the Hostel, where Boniface was staying as a guest of the Templars.

Within minutes he was talking to Boniface, a middle-aged woman with short grey hair and a soft Caribbean accent. What was surprising was the the Corporal was in RCMP duty uniform (peaked hat with yellow band, khaki-grey shirt, tactical patrol vest, yellow-striped pants, boots). Boniface took the package Sullivan had couriered from the Law Dogs in St. Louis to the Templars in Boise with thanks, then continued with his new orders.

"Sergeant, the good news is that Depot has been rebuilt. Dere's a colony now, and it's our HQ and training centre again. Canada has no federal government or even provincial governments, yet, but we're working on it. For all intents and purposes the Mounties are in business again as a separate entity but we're are still allied with the Law Dogs.

"The bad-ish news is you're being assigned as RCMP liaison with the Law Dogs under Cole Ballad, down in Junktown. I'll be remainin' 'ere as liaison with the Templars. The word from Depot is to cooperate with the Templars and Law Dogs as much as we can.

"Something big is happening, and if we can keep Depot abreast while giving the Teplars a hand, all the better."

Marshall's Note: "Depot" is the name of the RCMP Academy and former national HQ in Regina. It was once a supply depot and command post for operations in the west before the coming of the railroad.

"Colony" is a loose term for survivor communities that are established after the war, typically ones that have been established after the war. Communities with "Near" and "New" in their names are usually colonies.

---

Over in the marketplace, Trejo's Squire Jason was killing time, waiting for his return. Simon had sent Trejo to Wichita to track down a fellow Templar, Chance, who was investigating rumours of a Coven of undead Witches led by the Catholic Anti-Bishop. He had no idea when Trejo would be back but somehow knew it would be sooner than he thought...

He heard a commotion as Henderson the food merchant's table was overturned. Iguana-on-a-stick and bottles of foul-tasting home-made "miracle" soda went flying everywhere.

Trejo had appeared seemingly from nowhere and had grabbed the food-seller with one hand while punching the shit out of him with the other. Drawing his machete in a lightning move, he held it at the bloody and dazed merchant's throat and growled, "that's a real Templar bone, not some fake. I can feel it. Tell me where the rest of the body is, where you found it, who it is, and who you're working for and I'll let you'll live."

The food merchant shook his head to clear it enough to speak. "Guhhh... guhhh.... the rest of the bones are over there in the duffel bag! With my stuff! I don't know who it was! I found the body in Potosi, Missouri! He was already dead, so, uh..."

Spotting Jason, Trejo smiled grimly. "Oh, there you are, finally. On Texan time, I see. Search this pendejo's shit. Then we're bringin' him to Simon. ¡Ándele! ¡Ándele!!"

The market grew very quiet as everyone held their breaths, and then were let out when it seemed Trejo wasn't going to gank the man on the spot. In the moment of quiet, a clear "Snap-BAM!" was heard from over at the firing range a couple blocks away.

Searching Henderson's belongings indeed revealrf a dufflebag with skeletal remains inside. As Jason took the bag, Trejo then started dragging Henderson, the merchant, towards the temple by the scruff of his neck. Henderson promised Trejo considerable riches that were hidden elsewhere in the ruins if he would set him free. Trejo ignored him and kept dragging him on towards his fate.

---

Over on the firing range, Crichton's railgun round punched cleanly through the wood, the sandbag backing, and the low cinderblock wall a dozen feet behind that. And kept going.

"Mien Gott..." said Schaeffer. "A true Wunderwaffen indeed!"

Seeing the Templar exit from the temple and head over to the parked vehicles, Schaeffer and Crichton wrapped it up with the students and headed over themselves.

---

Finally, Tasmin came out of the Temple. Looking around, she asked, "say, weren't there more of you? Where's Trejo? And the Law Dog you were bringing, Sullivan?"

The missing posse members (Schaeffer, Crichton, Trejo (who had his big-ass machete out and was dragging along someone bloodied and bruised), his as-yet unknown Squire Jason, and finally Sullivan) were making their way over now.

"Good, there they are now!"

"Okay everyone, sorry for the wait, Simon would like to see you immediately, please."

Marshall's Note: for the sake of getting things moving, I assume Sullivan is on his way back, along with Trejo/Jason and Schaeffer/Crichton.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:59, Mon 07 May 2012.

Rowan nods turns and walks to the Technical and picks up michaela's sword and hangs it on her belt.
Then picks up the other two swords, gives Trickster a call to come with her she walks back to the group and steps along side the colonel.
Smiling she says, "enjoy your self love?"
"One day I would like you to teach me the basics of sword use"
Rowan willthen follow the Templar into the Temple
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:50, Mon 07 May 2012.

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg #62):

Reaching the vehicles, Schaeffer decided against stowing his sword and kept it belted to his sheath as well. He had little fear of theft here, he could see from what Trejo was doing to that poor soul the Templars handed disputes very directly.

"Ach, I should like when things are rebuilt to turn mine into the proverbial plowshare. Until then, I shall teach you how to defend yourself with that Wakizashi. A noble weapon, I think Michaela would like you to have it. Make sure the Templars approve, first."

As they followed Tasmin inside, the man Trejo was dragging along looked pretty well-to-do. He whined, "please... I can make you wealthy... let me go... I won't bother you again...."

Trejo scoffed, "what do I care about being rich? I wouldn't touch your filthy money if it was a million dollars. Now be a man and shut up."

He said to Jason, "Sinclair, get Arthur and Michaela's sword (her Katana) from Rowan. She can carry Chance's sword, she has earned the right to present it to Simon."