It was coming on late afternoon.

After the smoke break, the posse was led back into the temple. The crowd of petitioners and other Boise "downtowners" that had been in there to discuss rebuilding and other Templar matters had been ushered out. Goose and his people were getting ready to leave, while they were willing to help, getting Boise back together was the Templars' job, not theirs.

The only ones present aside from them was Simon, Biletnikoff the Librarian, and the two new Templars, Denis Carlton and Winnie Franklin. Simon started.

"Thanks for seeing me again so soon, I'll keep this short. We have further need of your services. The Convoy has agreed to pick up your expenses, triple pay. You've earned it already, and believe me, you'll earn it now.

"Any questions will have to wait, but you won't be waiting long, I assure you."

"Hey Ok. Lets get this over with. We have some serious r&r to get through. If you know what i mean."

In reply to Roadkill (msg # 2):

Simon smiled and bowed his head.

"That's it, thanks for your time. You're free to go!"

Roadkill was a bit confused

"Hey, so when do we need to do this thing?"

Biletnikoff the Librarian stepped in.

"Not right this minute, so relax for tonight. For "operational security" we can't tell you more, just be ready to move with ten minutes warning so please stay in the downtown area.

"We'll make room for you at the hostel. Your truck should be here tomorrow, according to Goose."

Peter frowned, a little bit annoyed. Come in, we have a job for you, no we won't tell you anything, now go away but be ready to leave at a moment's notice, bye. What the hell? He let out a snort and turned and tromped out once they were dismissed. He would leave but the Convoy had graciously loaned them out for this job already. And he wouldn't leave Jane.

He went to the truck and started checking it over. That usually calmed him down. He wanted to make sure it was in proper shape for the next "job".

In reply to Fred Biletnikoff (msg # 5):

Jane didn't like the answer that was given but then this wouldn't be the first time she had to move at the last minute.  She noticed Peter leave and figured he'd be back at the truck so she left to meet up with him.  If they were only going to have 10 minutes to get ready, that meant she had better clean the guns and make sure that they would be ready.

Jane went out to the truck and gave Peter a smile.  "I guess that I'd better get baby cleaned up."  She knew that he would talk if he felt like it.  Right now it was important, to her, to just spend what time she could with him and be ready so that she wouldn't disappoint.

"10 minutes!" roadkill gives a look that suggests he just heard a mad man talking.
"Guess that doens't leave much time then." He thinks a bit what to do as Pete heads off in a huff.
"Well then, I think bath first, something to smoke and drink and then a bed. Anyone got Hookahs here?"

"10 minutes!" roadkill gives a look that suggests he just heard a mad man talking.
"Guess that doens't leave much time then." He thinks a bit what to do as Pete heads off in a huff.
"Well then, I think bath first, something to smoke and drink and then a bed. Anyone got Hookahs here?"
</quote>

Rowan, shaefer and trickstrer head to get clean and rest, with trickster standing watch

  Jason smiles and thinks to himself "An odd little crew that I have fallen in with." He heads to the barracks to move what little bit of his personal effects that he has left from Dallas. After words assuming no word has come he gets clean.

Smoker headed out in search of a hot meal, some ale and a smoke. Not necessarily in that order.

That day, the bodies of the three Templars recovered from the Cursed Orchard (including that of Aaron McConnel) were cremated. By sundown, their ashes were cool enough to be processed and then put into "urns" (although at this point these consisted of a mason jar, coffee can and suitcase. There was a simple ceremony afterwards (closed to all but Templars) in the "Hall of Heroes", a small church on a hill beside the Temple itself.

Everyone got a hot meal, even a bath (when hot water was made available). Rooms in the Barracks (an old apartment hotel) were assigned for the Posse members (who were all either Companions or Templars). It was extremely basic accommodation, with a shared washroom, no working elevator, and no electricity until the morning, but the old army cots and sheets were clean and vermin-free, and it was very much the best place to sleep any one of them had seen in a long time! The Barracks were usually home to far more Templars, but was virtually empty at the moment.

Due to their priority, those of the Posse that were still injured were healed by the handful of Templars and Convoy medics still in the city. They were treated in the field hospital that took up the ground floor of the Hostel, then released. It was still overrun by dozens of casualties and some more-heavily injured casualties were kept in the rooms for longer-term care.

The area inside most Ghost storms was usually insanely dangerous but that didn't seem to be the case in Boise. During supper, a few inhabitants cautioned the Posse to stay indoors, presumably because of the chance of Destroyer stragglers that might remain in the ruins. Most people were too worn out from the day's fighting to sit and gossip and the canteen tent cleared out quickly.

After needed vehicle and weapons checks and maintenance, they settled in for the night. Despite the better weather in the day, the night was cold and a full moon shed harsh white light on the ruins. Not too surprisingly, the market square and streets around the tent city where most of the downtowners lived were soon emptied with the coming of darkness. A few fires burned in oil drums on street corners and around the tent city, but as electricity was limited to solar cells and a jury-rigged wind turbine there were few other lights.

Sometime around 0230, a blood-curdling scream was heard throughout the makeshift community around the Temple in Boise...

Marshall's Note: everyone make Onerous (TN 7) Cognition checks!

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 12):

Roadkill got his bath and whatever else he said he would do. The fact is that he couldn't sleep or to put it another, didn't want to sleep. Smoking drinking and generally doing what templars would probably disaprove of kept him up. It was a bit after midnight he heard a scream.

"Damn!"

Roadkill didn't really know who or what it was but he did know that it was not going to be all that fun.

   As Jason is wide awake anyway he heads towards the sound his new sword drawn. He knows whatever he finds won't be nice and friendly.
 "Just like the old days." he is heard to mutter if anyone is around. "I sure hope that you picked right Aaron."

07:03, Fri 19 Apr 2013: Jason Sinclair rolled 9 using 2d6, keeping the highest dice only, rerolling max (((6+3)9,2)).

Smoker enjoyed a hot meal and the opportunity of a bath - long time since his toes had been pink! - and retired to a REAL bed with some eagerness. He was soon sprawled and snoring.

Peter crashed out before too long. He was drained. It had been a hard few days and even the thought of spending time with Jane couldn't keep sleep from coming. He hoped the nightmares would stay away for one night.

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 16):

Jane finished cleaning her baby and made sure she would be all ready to fire when she needed her.  After that it didn't take long to clean her sidearms and other guns.  By that time Peter was sleeping and looking quite adorable,at least in Jane's eyes.  That was the last thing she thought about before she too fell asleep.

Rowan places her's and shaefers gear under the cots then grins and pushes them toghter.
Once sheafer gets there she cuddles up to himand falls into a deep sleep as the last few days drain off her

The scream had barely faded in the darkness. Rowan and Roadkill also heard it clearly, and it seemed like it came from across and down the street, from the Hostel where pilgrims were staying.

Jane and Smoker woke up as well but couldn't tell where the cry originated from, Peter, ironically, was having a fairly peaceful sleep for once, then he awoke.

Trejo came through the barracks loading his guns. He addressed everyone.

"Jason, you were a cop, too. Let's check it out. Everyone else, if you'd like to come with us, we'd be much obliged. Don't know if that's a Destroyer straggler or something worse... something we thought was gone a while back."

Grumbling, Smoker found his boots.

<quote Trejo>
The scream had barely faded in the darkness. Rowan and Roadkill also heard it clearly, and it seemed like it came from across and down the street, from the Hostel where pilgrims were staying.

Rowan nudges Shaffer awake as she graps her AK, "trouble love, some where out side".
Pulling her boots on, she waits for her love to be ready before investigating

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 21):

Being awake and having had a few, Not drunk but a bit tipsy, Roadkill was up for anything. Maybe that is why he seemed to be so aware of the scream. (*6+6+3* triple roll)

"All right gang, lets go!"

He grabs a few guns.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:13, Wed 24 Apr 2013.

Peter was VERY unhappy, one might even go so far as to use the word angry. He was woken up suddenly by a scream and the posse scrambling to go find out what happened.

"REALLY? The ONE night that I sleep peacefully?? Damnit!!"

He roughly kicked off the blanket and angrily pulled on clothes and grabbed weapons.

"If somebody ain't dead already, they're gonna wish they were!" He stomped off with the others and then amended. "But I hope no one's dead or hurt."

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 23):

Jane wasn't mad that she had to get up.  Unfortunately it had been happening too often of late.

She got up and grabbed her weapons and headed out after Peter.

Boots on and weapon in hand, Smoker followed the others, still grousing.

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 21):

A grumbling Schaeffer came awake instantly and grabbed his M4. Dressing quickly, he echoed Peter's thought as he and Rowan followed.

"Ya, is very inconsiderate!"

The scream had come from across the street, in the Hostel where petitioners stayed. The first floor was now also being used as an infirmary for those recovering from surgery from the battle the day before.

Roadkill and Jason are first in the door. A frightened-looking woman, probably the duty nurse, said, "the scream came from upstairs! Try the third floor!"

Once there, a man (obviously just woken up) pointed down the hall.

"That open door, there. Jesus, it sounded so horrible!"

"That open door, there. Jesus, it sounded so horrible!"
</quote>

Rowan looks down at her little friend padding quietly alongside her. "What do you feel and sense trickster"

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 28):

Trickster was very nervous as they crossed the street, following Jason and Roadkill. The coyote was not tamed, so he shied away from people, especially strangers. He also shied away from others in the Posse when they tried to pet or feed him, although he would gladly steal food when they weren't looking.

"Don't know!" he whined. "Lots of blood." Fair enough, there was a hospital on the ground floor, so the area probably already stank of blood, injury and death. He'd know more when they got up to the third floor.

But Trickster refused to enter the building, shying away and whining.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:23, Sun 28 Apr 2013.

In reply to Trickster (msg # 29):

Roadkill was filled with dutch courage and the luck of the irish.

"Wha wha what is over there" Roadkill clearly seeing the humour in making fun of a guy that is still half asleep

He turns towards the open door and looks to Jason

"It looks like this could be an open and closed case officer" Roadkill laughs a bit and then suddenly stops. He knows he should take it more serious but what if it was just someone being spanked really hard he thought.

"Lets go see then" Roadkill pulls out his shotgun and creeps forward.

Rowan listens then answers
"Go and hide in the shadows friend we ill be back shortly"
"Group take care trickster says lots of blood and some thing has him very scared"

It may have been a mistake to rush in.

The room was the scene of a grisly massacre. It's not the blood, which was everywhere. Nor the corpse that was splayed out, unzipped from crotch to neck, like an autopsy. The ribcage cracked and pulled apart. Those were things that they'd both seen at some point in the Wasted West.

It was the organs that were removed and placed neatly to either side. That was a new one.

Marshall's Note: Before the investigation, make a Hard (9) Guts check! This goes for everyone else looking inside the room.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 32):

Roadkill sees the scene inside the room and hic ups a bit. He looks in Jasons direction

"Pull yourse..." Roadkill hic ups again and then drops to his knees as he covers the floor with his dinner and snacks he had had during the evening.

Smoker, padding along behind, decides he won't look into the room. The smell out here was bad enough...

... even before Roadkill starts blowing chunks.

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 34):

Maura seeing Road kills actions decides not to go into the room

Peter's lip curled as he looked into the room...and then immediately stepped back out as Roadkill lost the contents of his stomach. He grimaced at that. Was it the alcohol or the scene in the room? Probably both.

He made a grunting noise and shook his head. The anger at being woken was replaced with anger at whatever had done this. "This is...Someone should find...whatever did this." Even as he said it, he knew it was going to be the posse. If they didn't do it on their own initiative, the Templars would ask them to. It seemed to be their way.

  "Damn it Roadkill. This isn't even the worst that has happened in the North American area. Horrible yes, but not nearly that bad. Next time let the pros lead the way. That way you don't mess up any clues. Sharp "blade" cuts and tearing almost as if it got impatient. The organs in neat piles after being cut out or is that torn. Hmm... I don't see anything else. Give me a few minutes to think. Of course it could always be the Horror, but that was killed a number of years ago." Jason's chastisement of Roadkill seemed more as if this ever happens again let me have a look before your drunk ass pukes on my crime scene. The rest sounded very clinical as if the dead body was merely a old movie scene to him and not a person.

Roadkill pointed out the handprints from his kneeling position and slowly turned around and crawed out of the room and then sat against the wall in the hall. There was only one thing to do. A smoke. A big fat smoke to blast the taste away.

In reply to Roadkill (msg # 38):

Jane had her gun but didn't go into the room.  It didn't pay for everybody to be in the room and not on watch so she took up her guard position in case anything came for them while the others were figuring out what happened.

Smoker offered Roadkill a cigarette.

   "The Vikings could have taken a couple of lessons from whatever did this. He lived right up til the end. Handprints suggest a monster."

Rowan from the corridor
"Okay so how did it get in and out"

    "In is difficult. Out that is easy it took the fire escape. See the bloody claws leading to it. The question becomes then at what point does this become really difficult." Jason looks at the posse. "See this thing didn't restrain the victim. It either has some sort of telekinesis, mind control, or most scary of them all is just that fast. If it is mind based then line o' sight should break it, but speed I got next to nothing on that." He walks out of the room and into the hallway. "We need a couple o' Templars or trusted Squires to clean this room and not speak a word. We need to speak to Simon and Blitnikoff. I think that is the best course right now as I am certain this is to be our task."

In reply to Jason Sinclair (msg # 43):

There was a possible incongruity in the tracks. They were of bootprints, which suggested a monster (or mutant) that wore boots or footgear. Not impossible.

Curious people were starting to come up the stairs. They were stopped by Jane. Trejo started down. "Gonna do some crowd control downstairs. Talk to the other Templars. Don't think they're gonna be much help."

He started down the stairs.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:21, Wed 01 May 2013.

Peter gave a snort after Trejo left. "Of course they will not be much help." He let out a sigh and seemed to deflate as Jason's words rolled around his mind. "Could the victim have been kept in a sleep, like with a dream or nightmare or something?"

   "That would be what I would term Mind Control. The problem with that though is most of these things feed on fear. If you are asleep there isn't a whole lot of fear. Give me a few minutes to think about what I got taught back in Ranger School."

In reply to Jason Sinclair (msg # 46):

Jane snorted when she heard Jason say that there isn't much to fear if you're asleep.  Perhaps he should change dreams, or nightmares, with her and Peter some time.  Perhaps it was his faith or his innocence that let him say that.  Either way she didn't say anything but kept turning away the gawkers and keeping an eye out for anything else.

Roadkill took the smoke and lit it up.

"That will fix it. Sure those guys can sort this one out"

He took a few more drags and slowly got up.

"Yeah you guys keep doing that stuff. Me and smoker will make sure no one gets to...." He points to the ground around him "...this area"

"All right."

Smoker was glad to get outside. And glad that Roadkill had got his equilibrium back.

Downstairs, the few other Templars arrived and helped keep people away. Trejo came back up the stairs carrying a body bag. Once at the He proceeded to begin shovelling the remains inside. In the mean time, Schaeffer kept the other occupants of this floor in their rooms.

Thinking about it, Rowan couldn't really point to a specific creature or spell that could do something like this, although something or someone that caused a paralysis could be the culprit.

The people standing at their doors in the hall (where they were being kept out of the way) were talking back and forth about the Ghost of Modeen seeking vengeance. Or perhaps something called a Bloodwolf (a cross between a vampire and werewolf) that Simon and a man named Teller supposedly slew years ago had returned, and this was somewhat like it's hunting pattern.

She fetched Trickster, who didn't like the room at all, and brought him upstairs.

Trickster sniffed the bed and went as close as he could to the corpse. Only Rowan could understand when he whined, "no other smell here, no other person was on bed! Just man!"

Sniffing the bloody footprints, he took off down the hall to the window at the end of the hallway. He then sniffed the threads that were caught on the rusty fire escape.

"Different person. Was not in room for long. Not near bed. Not touch man on bed. Went down metal thing to ground!"

Trickster then scampered back down the stairs, then cast around until finding a scent. He then took off across the street towards the Temple...

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 51):

rowan shakes her head "nothing I can think of fits this pattern"
"Trickster Sorry but I want you to help me track what ever did this so we can deal with it"

When Trickster runs down the stairs Jason follows as he realizes that he is heading for the Temple he is running as fast as he can to keep up. He has sheathed the sword and pulled his Sig. He doesn't know if that will help but he loads his silver ammo.

In reply to Jason Sinclair (msg # 54):

Following the scent, Trickster ran into the Temple. He ran past Simon's door to the suite across the hall... Biletnikoff the Librarian's door. The coyote scratched at the door and whined.

In reply to Jason Sinclair (msg # 54):

Roadkill noticed the dog sniffing about and followed it out as well. Sure Jason was running quickly after the hound but there was no way roadkill was going to keep up. Having expelled some toxins earlier he was actually feeling a bit better and the jog and fresh air, while smoking was doing wonders. Drawing his shotgun he suddenly realised that drinking and guns didn't mix but at least he was thingking he thought.

"I got your back Jason. Way back here" he puffed "I'm getting there"

"Gotta hope that the Librarian is okay.  That would be a blow right now." Jason knocks politely, but firmly and says "Librarian I need you to open this door and do so fast or I will need to open it for you."

Smoker tagged along behind Roadkill.

Peter stroked his chin. "It sounds like an old movie I saw back in Deadwood. Return of the Bloodwolf. Part 3 I think. It was about werewolves or something ritualistic, I do not remember exactly."

He followed along with the others to the Temple but stood back to allow the Templar among then, Jason, to take the lead.

In reply to Trickster (msg # 55):

Rowan calls Trickster back to here side and then says "well done friend now you have given them some where to look"

After a slight pause, ("Coming! I'm all right! Let me get the door!") Biletnikoff opened the door, fully dressed but barefoot.

"Sorry, I heard the commotion and decided it was safer in here. Another killing? I thought those stopped, but here it is, a full moon, and they've started again."

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 60):

The coyote, unnerved by all the activity and people, stood beside Rowan.

"Too many people!"

In reply to Trickster (msg # 62):

Rowan kneels down by trickster "I agree" she says softly to him "way to many people."

"Is that man the one we are trailing little friend" as the man answers the door

"Yeah it whatever it is got a pilgrim over at the Hostel. It wasn't pretty by a long shot. I almost certain it was quick. Whatever it was wore boots and had claws. To many things to begin to list." Jason looks resolute, but hidden behind that is a fear that age may be creeping up on him.

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 63):

"Man was in room, but not touch dead man!" Still a coyote, Trickster was getting freaked out by the amount of unfamiliar people around him.

Stroking his chin in thought, Fred replied, "I've made a point of studying the "Boise Horror", as it's called. Claws rending the victims, on the full moon, that's the Horror's typical MO. Boots? That's atypical. Can you describe them?"

In reply to Trickster (msg # 65):

"Go to our ride little one and hide in the place I travel in"
Rowan instructs trickster

In reply to Fred Biletnikoff (msg # 66):

"It is strange that you were in the same room as the creature and the trail lead us to your door". Rowan states with complete faith in the information given her

  "Damn it. You were in the room Librarian? And so it is the Horror after all. At least that is the theory at this point. No more lying Sir. You need to brief me in full as to our "task"." Jason says as he walks further into the room taking it in as best as he could while keeping an eye on Fred.

OOC: Both came up as a 5. Not great I know, but not horrible.

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 68):

Bilenikoff looked back and forth between Rowan and Jason. In the cramped room behind him Jason could see crude shelves with hundreds of sorted dataslugs, HDVDs, VHS and Beta tapes, and dozens of books. The ones on his tiny desk by the computer screen were all on occult matters. He also saw a pair of boots that might make the prints in the Hostel hallway.

He sighed, replying, "not too strange I suppose... You see, yes, it is the Horror and I've been trying to track it. The pattern of its attacks are on the full moon, so the Templars deploy where they can protect the most people. But the Horror always avoids the sentries and carefully chooses alternative areas with isolated victims. So I was in the Hostel because it has private rooms and no Templar guard, staking it out, so to speak, when I heard the scream from upstairs. Here, let me show you."

As a Librarian, he never went anywhere without his multi-corder and a fresh dataslug. He turned on the computer and fit the viewer with a slug. It is the Librarian's record from his camera POV. According to the time stamp it started at sundown, and Biletnikoff fast forwarded it several hours (moving through streets and the tent city) until it showed him moving through the hostel's ground floor. Just then was the scream you all heard on the 3rd floor. Biletnikoff ran up the stairs but instead of going directly to the door, he hid in the shared makeshift washroom and recorded the empty hall.

Indeed, the faint sounds of carnage could be heard a couple doors down and across. Belitnikoff waited for a moment behind the door to the washroom, palmcorder recording the hallway and closed murder room door. The video paused.

"At this point, I wasn't eager to run into the Horror, alone. So I waited to see if the killer would come out. When the noises stopped, and the alarm was raised, I decided to take a chance."

Starting again, the POV moved to the door, Biletnikoff's brown-robe clad arm pushed the door open. Inside was the victim (as he would be soon found by Roadkill and Jason) but no visible killer. Biletnikoff recorded the entire room, including his own boots in the blood on the floor. There were no other prints. He then exited the door, ran down the hall and then out the window onto the rusty fire escape.

He came into the Temple, then checked Simon's door. Stilson, one of the Templars, opened up and confirmed Simon was fine and sleeping.

"That's when I stopped recording. I had the Templar Stilson stationed in his room all night, that is, staying by his bed and physically keeping an eye on him, and no one disturbed them."

Rowan frowns
"So no sign of entry point or leaving point". "Some thing just turns up creates havoc and leaves"
Rowan is desperately trying to figure out what this could be

He shook his head.

"No entry or exit that I could see, and no tracks. I didn't see anyone entering when I had the place staked out. Did you check the other rooms in the Hostel, see if anyone there is a suspect?"

Peter raised an eyebrow up. "So either it does not leave a scent behind that can be followed by your...Trickster here or the Librarian is lying and is the Horror himself. Unlikely with the recording he has." He shook his head.

"Is there anything else you can tell us about the Horror itself? Some of us are new here and have never heard of it."

Looking closely at Trickster, Biletnikoff looked genuinely surprised.

"Wow! That's a coyote! A tame one, I see.

"The Horror has been active for seven years. It first struck during the full moon, three victims in a row. Teller (a storyteller with occult knowledge) and a posse tracked down a bloodwolf and killed it, at great cost. That was something something that was thought to only be in the movies, a myth from before the war. A vampire-werewolf. They killed it and that seemed to end the killings.

"But then they started up again, a few years ago. Same wounds, again, on the night of the full moon. Not every month but every few months. there has been thirteen more victims. It seemed to stop last year for no reason I can determine.

"Then it started again last month. My reading on serial killers suggests that "fallow" periods indicate maybe the killer is incarcerated or has moved. Sometimes they just lie low. But I have no answer, people drift in and out of Boise all the time, my records show nothing significant about the periods of activity or dormancy."

In reply to Fred Biletnikoff (msg # 74):

"Okay so how do you track one of these creatures" asks Rowan

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 75):

Biletnikoff sighed and started boiling water for tea.

"A bloodwolf is a physical creature, much like the vampire or werewolf it comes from. So it will leave a track. That's what's so baffling! As of now, I'm stymied. Tea, anyone? I don't think I'm getting back to sleep tonight."

Outside, the sky became brighter as dawn neared. It looked like it was going to be a clear mid-spring day.

Peter grumbled a bit quietly and yawned. He wanted to go back to sleep but he doubted he be able to. He shook his head. He wasn't sure what this creature was, or even what a bloodwolf was for that matter.

"What's a bloodwolf?"

Fred gave a tired smile, while pouring tea for anyone who wanted it.

"It's a cross between a vampire and werewolf, that is, someone infected with both conditions. Used to be people didn't think either existed, but since then we know that the supernatural has existed for a long time, but was just covered up by governments. There was even a series of horror movies about bloodwolves before the war. Either way, someone who's both a vampire and a werewolf would hunt at night and be active during the full moon, but it's not known if a bloodwolf has the weaknesses and strengths of both vampires and werewolves or a partial combination."

In reply to Fred Biletnikoff (msg # 79):

Jane yawned as she listened to what was said.  She wouldn't have believed in a Blood Wolf before but she has seen many things that she once thought were just figments of somebody's drunken imagination.  She shuddered at the possibility of some...thing...like a Blood Wolf being able to function in daylight.

"Yeah, some tea would be good.  Thanks."

Smiling tiredly, Fred poured a cup for Jane.

"Once you finish up, I guess all we can do at this point is go for breakfast. One more mystery, I suppose."

<grey>"Bloodwolves were around before the War, but not like this. They moved around so it took longer to find them. If this is a BW then we have our work cut out for us."</grey>

Rowan looks interested.
"you and I need to talk some time" she says softly.
"Mean time how do we track this thing down and deal with it"

Dawn broke and a tired and edgy Boise downtown came to life. Not just last night's slaughter by the Horror, but the "downtowners" were still reeling from the savagery of the day before when Modeen's Destroyers were fought off.

The sun was a greenish blob, as seen through the surrounding wall of the Ghost Storm. Breakfast was served at the canteen tent about a half-block away. Biletnikoff checked in on Simon again (still not conscious, but the Templar said he hadn't left his sight the entire night) then headed out for some chow.

"Care to join me?"

"is it okay if I check Simon over with my skills" Rowan asks
"I will stay and keep watch some one bring me some thing to eat please

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 85):

"It's really up to Simon! I can't think he'd object."

He leaning in close. "We have to be careful, you understand. If people think it's really serious, it'll be devastating. We've had the best surviving medical minds examine him, and the Templars are well acquainted with the occult. The bad news is no one's found anything, but that's good in a way, too. As long as he doesn't get worse."

Rowan Smiles, "I am witch."
"It is given that we heal."
"But before that I was a Paramedic"
"I promise to take no action, with out the permission of the Templars"

Peter gave a shrug and then nodded. "Sure. I suppose breakfast could not hurt." He trudged sleepily after Biletnikoff.

Smoker yawns widely.

"If we cannot go back to sleep, a smoke and some hot food will have to do!"

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 84):

Jane was torn on whether or not to get some chow.  She new she should but sometimes it just seemed too much of an effort for her.  Today was verging on the "too much effort" side.  She didn't want to faint later from lack of nourishment or anything so went to get food.  She only took a little and then found something that she could pull out later to eat.  After she got her food, she went to a corner and sat down, eating quietly.

  "We talk whenever you feel the need Rowan. I won't tell you anything that I consider dangerous info, but you might find it informative." Jason says as he heads towards the mess tent/chow hall. "There are things that even now I dare not discuss with anyone except a fellow Ranger, a certain machete wielding Mexican, and a very few members of the former Agency. The knowledge of certain manitous or cults can cause trouble. I believe that even speaking of it can have problems. Ask me about sykers, Harrowed, and "safe" subjects and we can talk for a bit."

The posse filed into the mess hall.

They saw Trejo, coming off shift after a failed night of guarding against the Horror smiled tiredly at them.

"Hey. I traded to get extra rations for you all. It's not much, but you've done a lot to help us."

Barb, the Doomie that they helped (and later joined them for the fight) was serving and she waved them over. Sure enough, there is bacon and eggs with toast available if they want it, along with the more modest fare of cereal and oatmeal. "Your buddy traded around for this grub, rare as all get out these days."

As well, Daphne (Roadkill's old friend) was waiting at table, holding spaces for them.

"Thank you," said Smoker, yawning. He hoped he was awake enough to relish such bounty!

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 93):

Goddamn! They actually had coffee!
This message was last updated by the GM at 02:59, Fri 07 June 2013.

As the group leave Rowan turns to Shaefer, "love would you ask Barb to come and speak to me please"

Barb wiped her hands and made sure there was someone to replace her on the chow line.

"Sure thing, hon, what's on your mind?"

The ageing punk rocker was dressed in a dirty T-shirt with the Doomsayer logo on it, under a heavily studded leather vest. Her hair was now cut in a short Mohawk, uncoloured.

Rowan smiles as she sits there studying Simon.
"Thank you for coming"
"Barb I am reminded that with ghost rock you can speak with the dead, how complete does the body have to be"?
"The Templars have some ghost rock they might let us have, I have a few ounces"

Barb nodded.

"Sure! To use the miracle of "Deathspeak", all I need is something important to the victim. Aaron's body was important to him so that worked, but his sword or something personal would be fine."

With Trejo's help, they soon located a sufficient chunk of Ghost Rock and the suitcase belonging to "Harmon Mullins", the unfortunate victim of the night before.

There wasn't any reason to perform the miracle in a particular place, so the items were brought to the mess tent. Barb set up the chunk of Ghost Rock on a scarred plastic tray and used her abilities to set it on fire. It burned with an eerie green glow, dancing as if a spirit was trapped within.

"I'm trying to summon a Manitou, an evil spirit. If I can bind it to my will, It'll go to the Happy Hunting Grounds and find Harmon for us and bring him back, at least to speak to us. I can't compel Harmon to cooperate, but I can't imagine why he wouldn't want us to find his killer! If all goes well, this should take a minute."

It looked like nothing was happening. Barb stared intently into the ghostly green flame. Then her expression became more and more fierce. Then, finally, she broke off.

"Sorry, I tried. For some reason, I couldn't get the Manitou to comply. It was useless, I had to break contact."

The whole process took about a half hour, 45 minutes. Eveyone else was finished breakfast by then, but several had gathered around the table to watch. There was disappointment when it looked like they failed in whatever they were doing.
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:25, Fri 07 June 2013.

In reply to Barb o' Doom (msg # 98):

"Sorry, I tried. For some reason, I couldn't get the Manitou to comply. It was useless, I had to break contact."


Rowan frowns


As if a greater power was stopping the lesser from cooperating?
Rowan considers "there was a time in the distant past where which and warlock summoned the ancestors on Samhain eve when the veil was thin."
"Wish I knew how they did it"

Peter thanked Trejo for the extra good breakfast. For a moment, he thought back to when such foods might have engendered exclamations about how one should eat healthy and make breakfast the biggest meal of the day. Peter could laugh at that. The apocalypse made every meal as savory as anything since it could always be the last one.

He raised an eyebrow at the mysticism that Rowan and Barb seemed to try. He wasn't surprised when it didn't work. Many of his 'tribesman', the Old Wayers, had claimed to have magic powers too. It didn't save them.

"It's maybe best those secrets are forgotten.

"I'll be buggered if I know what's happening now, it could well be someone or something is blocking me from talking to the departed. The Veil is usually pierced with the help 'a the Ghost Rock, but not today, for some reason."

She was willing to talk but started collecting dirty plates and trays. She finished whatever few scraps remained without shame; as Peter knew, this might once have been very minimal fare before Judgement Day but now was a banquet.

"Mmmm... bacon!"

They finished their breakfast in relative peace. Roadkill was nowhere to be found, presumably having stumbled back to bed, complaining of a pounding noggin.

Winnie Carlton, one of the newly arrived Templars, found them in the mess tent.

"Hi y'all. Hope you had a good meal? Simon would like to see you now, if that's okay?"

"Sure," said a now well-stuffed and slightly dopy Smoker, getting to his feet.

Jane finally took some bacon and thanked Trejo for his extra effort in their meal.  She was unusually quiet, even to Peter, this morning.  That was one good thing about their relationship.  He was normally quiet also so he didn't usually mind on the days that she was.

She followed the group to whatever meeting they were to be at, munching on bacon.

Peter let out a sigh when they were informed that Simon wanted to speak to them. Here it comes, I bet. The 'request' to investigate whatever is killing people. Funny how a group dedicated to helping everyone can't seem to help themselves often.

He almost wished he wasn't done eating so he could slow down and draw it out, make Simon wait. But then he realized that was silly and petty. He was being too pessimistic and bitter as it was, and thought he needed to change that.
One step at a time.


He stood and walked towards the meeting.

  Jason drinks some coffee. When asked to talk to Simon he refills his cup and follows.

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 99):

Schaeffer finished up his breakfast as well.

"It is a shame, Rowan, that Barb wasn't able to obtain the information we needed, or at least could make use of. I think you are right, somewhat suspicious. But the realm of what I might have called superstition, that is, the supernatural, is not one that I am very familiar with."

He cleared his plate and prepared to follow the dark-skinned Templar, Winnie.

The Posse arrived at the Hall of Heroes across the street in the Temple.

Waiting in the hall, with it's round wooden table and Templar swords mounted on the wall. Simon was there, as well as Biletnikoff, plus two of the new Templars, Denis Carlton (surfer dude) and Winnie Franklin (older black woman). Simon looked tired and haggard, filled with sorrow.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 108):

Simon appeared to gather himself from his reverie. The Posse could feel his personality as he spoke to them.

"Welcome, and thanks again for your help.

"You were told that your purpose would be revealed, soon. That time is now.

"There is to be a summit held at Junkyard of all those opposed to the Combine and those forces of greater evil gathering to the east. You are to act as my assistants and bodyguards for the trip there and back, and the summit. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you anything sooner, but secrecy was of the utmost. By leaving with you, we create misdirection for anyone spying as I will be leaving the bulk of my Templars here.

"Junkyard is sending an escort. We must leave immediately, to make the rendez-vous to the south of here. Your friend Roadkill's truck has arrived, he is getting it ready as we speak."

Rowan looks concerned
"Sir what about the horror that is attacking here?"

Simon sighed and looked down for a moment, then held her gaze. "Nothing we can do about that now. Besides, we know the Horror strikes only at the full moon, and just the once. And not every full moon, it could be months before it strikes again."

In reply to Simon (msg # 111):

Rowan wrinkles her nose in slight exasperation.
She hates unfinished work, but this is not her home and the Templars have the right to control their own home.
Okay time to move on, take her pay and see where the road leads next.
She bows to Simon "so be it I have done as I promised and returned my friends swords to you."
"Accepting that you in all likely hood expended large amount of your munitions in defending this place."
"I will if you are willing take a trade note"

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 112):

"I recall that you were each promised 500 rounds of ammunition, as well as another 100 for convoy wages. Goose and the Convoy have covered this.

"Trejo can see to that."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:05, Fri 21 June 2013.

In reply to Simon (msg # 113):

rowan nods "thank you"

In reply to Simon (msg # 113):

Taking a pad out of his vest, Trejo nodded. "Got a list right here. You can get it now or later.

"Standard rounds: 5.56x45mm, 7.62x39mm. Bigger or more exotic rounds are worth double or more."

Rowan nods.
"I will take the Note Trejo, you will need your Ammunition hear for a good while and 500 rounds will help keep this place alive"

"Just mark down that I use 7.62x39mm"

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 116):

"You also got an M260 SAW off the bikers. It's a SAW that uses belted 7.62x39mm ball. Want a spare ammo can or 2 for that? 60 rounds per belt. You can mount it on the sidecar."

Rowan nods happy that has been suggested
"That's true call it half belted half not when you pay me, but seriously trejo can you spare it right now"

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 118):

He grinned.

"Don't worry, darlin'. The Convoy will cover it."

Peter was barely able to stop the first two reactions that bubbled up out of him at Simon's words: anger and laughter. It would have been nice to have been asked. As it was, unsurprisingly, Simon didn't ask he just told them what they would be doing. He stayed silent until Simon was done and "money" was brought up.

"I could use more 9mm and shotgun rounds, and it never hurts to keep the machinegun on the truck in ammo."

He wasn't greedy, well yes he was actually. He was trying not to be a jerk about it.

Rowan chuckles and with no harm in her words or body language, "now the only man that has the right to call me darling is Schaeffer".

A (mostly) shrewd judge of character, Trejo nodded, seemingly not surprised at Peter's request. He and the others were there of their own free will and had a right to claim the reward they'd been promised for risking their lives.

Without a central bank and currency, the postwar economy (such as it was) still needed some unit of exchange. Barter was very limited, especially for groups like the Convoy that wanted high-value high-portable goods for transport over long distances. Gold, silver and precious metals had largely gone out of style a century beforehand but were valuable if you could get ahold of them. Drugs were popular, especially basic medicines, but the supply tended to mainly diminish over time and hoarding drove up the value relative to utility.

For the most part, ammunition seemed to be the most common unit of exchange, and some were worth more or were more rare than others.

He did some figuring. "How about a belt of 100 cal-fifty for the Ma-Deuce, plus 50 shotgun rounds or 100 9mm." It was a fair rate for the 600-rounds they were promised.

Jane grinned when Peter mentioned ammo.  It was always good to get more ammo and they did seem to go through it at a good rate. She gave him a nod in agreement and let the others take charge of the finer details.  Jane was a simple person at heart.  Point and shoot, defend those who couldn't, and love your man when you had one worthy of your attention.  The other stuff would fall in place sooner or later.

Peter looked at the others in his 'group' with a raised eyebrow. "If there are no objections....then it sounds good to me. Thank you."

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 124):

In the antechamber of the Temple, Trejo doled out the required ammo to whoever requested it. Schaeffer pooled his ammo with Rowan so that they had a thousand rounds for her M246 LMG (SA SAW) which he intended to mount on the BMW's sidecar. He took the last 100 rounds allotted to him in 7.62x39mm for his suppressed M4.

Soon, it was time to go and they were outside. Parked outside the Temple, beside Peter's technical, was Roadkill's rig. "Hey, didn't think you were gonna leave without me, huh? Smoker! Get the hell up there, son!"

It was obvious he was still pretty ripped, Smoker had been with him for months but never seen him try to drive this loaded before. His position was at the front trailer fighting position, the NA SAW (M249) they salvaged from the bikers was mounted up there with five hundred rounds of ammo.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 125):

"Everyone, if I may have a moment of your time. The plan is that we start heading north. We'll rendez-vous with our escort from Junkyard about 50 miles north of here. So we have miles to go and should get started."

He coughed deeply a few times, then recovered. Biletnikoff the Librarian shot him a worried look, but the fit seemed to have stopped.

"You OK, 'Kill?" asked Smoker. "Better use Gilles..."

Peter listened to Simon and gave a silent nod. Then he turned to Roadkill with a small smile. "I am glad to see you and Smoker reunited with your truck. The three of you are a cute couple, incomplete without each other." He chuckled as he climbed into his own vehicle and got ready to roll out.

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 128):

Jane stowed her resupply of ammo and made sure that all her guns were ready to fire again.  She tired to stifle the grin caused by Peter's words but was wondering if she was successful.

"Day-am straight, pardner! Let's get this show on the road!"



For an instant, grief showed through Roadkill's mask. He took a pull from a whiskey bottle and grimaced. "Aw, hell. Goose has a Junker pal, says he don't know if he can fix 'im. But hell! Can't go mopin' around this dump for ever! Time, to blow this Popsicle stand. Whatever the hell that is."

Smoker took a deep breath. Day-am, he never stood up to Roadkill. Not normally, but...

"Look, Kill' - lay off of the sauce or don't drive."

"Damn it," snarled Roadkill, "you don't tell me what to do! No one does." He climbed up into the cab of his rig, slamming the door shut. "Get up there on the trailer, brainer. If it bothers you so much, I'll stop it fr now."

He turned the engine over, and green Ghost-Rock exhaust belched out of the twin stacks. Underneath the roar of the converted Cummins diesel could be heard the faint thin screech that Spook-Juice burning engines seemed to give off. The airhorn blared for several seconds.

"Yee-Haw! Smoker, get that ramp. Wagons, ho!"

In reply to Roadkill (msg # 132):

Keeping his expression neutral, Trejo mounted up his bike.

In reply to Trejo (msg # 133):

Behind him Jason did the same, intending to follow the man who had, until recently, been his mentor.

In reply to Jason Sinclair (msg # 134):

Simon was helped into the back of the trailer by the two Templars that were going along as his personal bodyguard and escorts. Some supplies and baggage were loaded in, after. Then they retracted the rear ramp they closed the double doors.

With the rear doors closed, should Smoker want to get to the roof fighting position he would have to use the collapsible rope ladder that hung off the left front side of the trailer. After he climbed up standard procedure would be to pull the ladder up behind him, leaving the roof hatch to the trailer the only access.

Smoker scrambled up to his perch, pulling the ladder up behind him.

Jane climbed into her usual position and smiled at Peter through the mirror.  She didn't need to say anything.  This was something they had done before and would do again and again, fortune willing.

She finally tapped the top of the cab indicating that she was ready.

Rowan takes ALL her equipment and heads for the technical. She has the feeling of a parting of the ways.

And signals trickster to follow her, then climbs in the back and sits with her back against the cab.

She says nothing but her face looks like one abandoned and left by the way side.

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 138):

Jane looked down at Rowan and nudged her with her foot.  "Hey, you ok?  Riding with me back here isn't that bad is it?"

In reply to Jane Guin (msg # 139):

Rowan Smiles a little sadly, "Not at all Jane, but Kurt did not me along side him and that hurts"

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 140):

Jane arched an eyebrow.  "You two have a fight or is he just into the battle plan right now?  I wouldn't worry too much about it.  Men do stupid things every once in awhile.  Besides, you traveled back here with me last time we went through that force.  I have to admit that I liked you being here."

In reply to Jane Guin (msg # 141):

Rowan looks toward the wall, "fight not that I know of Jane. He did not give a reason just left"

"Okay time to get my own transport again Jane."
"But for now you are correct it will be pleasant to travel together again"

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 142):

"Perhaps we just need to keep an eye on him for a bit.  Never know if he picked up a bug or something.  Men can be very uncommunicative at times.  You and Trickster can always ride back here with me."

Jane had to grin at her own comment about men being uncommunicative.  Peter was probably the most uncommunicative person she knew and yet it didn't bother her.  Perhaps that was part of his charm.  She felt bad for Rowan though and tried not to show it.  Rowan didn't need to dwell too much on the subject right now.

The small convoy headed out on the cracked Interstate. Ominously, Roadkill's rig swerved a little, but he corrected. Jason and Trejo were out in front, rig behind with the technical following.

On a hilltop overlooking the Interstate, one of several bushes was paying a lot of attention to the vehicles as they passed below, using a spotting scope. In particular, scoping out the technical, and a certain red-haired lass sitting in the back.

Schaeffer watched them until the vehicles, and Rowan, was out of sight. Sighing, he crawled backwards until he was no longer on the hill, then walked back to his bike. Kicking it to life, he rode off on a partially washed-out side road, in the opposite direction.

Peter's eyes widened when the rig swerved in front of him and he bit back a curse. He frowned and eased off a bit, making sure he wasn't following too closely, just in case Roadkill had an issue. He hoped that Gilles would take care of it, but...one never knew.

"Steady on, Roadkill!" shouted Smoker, hanging on up top.

A Small Town, just North of the Boise Maelstrom...

Walker had been waiting.

For Days.

Patiently.

He was currently sat out on the Porch of the Town Bar, sipping from a tall glass of Iced Water that had cost him two of his 9mm rounds (for the Ice) as life passed him by. Of course someone had laughed at him for the Water, but he didn't care, and the one who was laughing was quickly quietened by his colleagues as they realized just how BIG Walker was. Happened a lot. Made him chuckle inside.

The Bushwhacker and the Fancy Chopper help too it must be said...

Walker chuckled to himself as the town went about its business quietly.

Nice Place. Wouldn't mind Dyin' here...

He watches and waits.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:51, Sat 13 July 2013.

In reply to Walker (msg # 147):

Ontario was a small farming community just across the former Oregon state line. It was at one end of the long valley that followed the Snake River along the southern flanks of the Rocky Mountains in central Idaho. It was a small farming community, able to survive scratching the reddish-brown dirt by minimal irrigation from the adjacent Snake River.

Their small convoy consisted of Trejo and Jason in front on bikes, then Roadkill's rig, and finally Peter's technical pulling drag. The vehicles travelled along I-84, the Old Oregon Trail Highway, then pulled up to the remains of the Devo Bridge over the Snake River. A Confederate air strike had dropped both mammoth concrete spans into the swift-flowing Snake far below.

That is, Trejo and Jason pulled up. Roadkill hadn't had any accidents and his driving seemed to improve over the morning, but as they reached the detour Smoker saw an empty whiskey bottle flung out the driver side armoured shutter to shatter against the hard concrete as they rolled by. (Anyone in the Technical can make a TN 9 to notice this as well.)

From behind, it looked to Peter like Roadkill intended to keep going straight, even though the route detoured around the missing bridges! What the hell was he thinking? Passing a stunned Trejo and Jason, the armoured rig smashed through the wood barrier and warning signs at the end of the bridge.

The hand-painted warnings were pretty clear: DANGER! BRIDGE OUT! TURN RIGHT AND USE RTE 30 BRIDGE 1 MI. NORTH. Next stop, the Snake River, some 120 feet below...

Smoker started banging on the roof of the rig.

"ROADKILL - THE BRIDGE IS OUT!!! STOP OR TURN NOW!!!"

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 149):

Roadkill seemed not to hear, and although Smoker could see the driver's roof hatch was open he couldn't quite see down into the crew compartment from this angle.

(The Junker back in New Wichita had torched the aerodynamic faring from the top of the cab, putting in a driver and passenger roof hatches. Behind and between them was a middle gunner station with a gunshield and ring mount, but no weapon.)

Muttering something quite unprintable, Smoker scrambled across to the open driver's roof hatch and stuck his head down.

"ROADKILL!!!!" he screamed.

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 151):

Roadkill was slumped back in the driver's seat, eyes closed and mouth open. An empty vodka bottle beside him on the seat.

"Huh? Whazzup? OH HOLY MOTHER OF CHRIST!" He darted forward and grabbed the steering wheel with one hand, gearing down with the other all the while reefing on the clutch and brakes.

The air compression brakes let out a loud BRAAAAAAAAAAPPP! (Unlike gas/petrol-powered autos, diesel trucks do not normally slow through engine compression when gearing down, so instead compressors or "air brakes" are activated to slow the gearing and bleed of torque that would otherwise rip the engine apart. Air brakes are very loud, so were commonly banned in inhabited neighborhoods before the war.) Greenish-black smoke shot from the stacks as the engine was slammed down into the lower gears.

As they slowed, tires squealed and Roadkill fought to avoid jack-knifing. The extra mass of armour plating was definitely not his friend in this circumstance! Smoker was thrown forward by the momentum. In front, it didn't look like they were going to make it, the edge grew quite close.

As Roadkill (finally) hit the brakes, Smoker hung on as hard as he could, spread out spider-like across the roof of the cab.

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 153):

Praying to some God or Gods unknown to him a short time before, Roadkill fought to slow the massive rig in time without jackknifing or flippin' 'er!

"COME ON, YOU MOTHER!"

He almost made it. Almost. Amid the screeching of 18 wheels with locked brakes and the howl of air brakes Smoker could feel the rig shudder as steel-belted radials began shredding apart, spraying black rubber strips across the pitted concrete. They started going over, and it looked to be a race between jackknifing and going over the edge.

From his perch spread-eagled on the cab roof, Smoker was truly terrified as the rig nosed over the lip of shattered concrete, twisted and rusty rebar sticking out over the Snake River gorge. There was a massive thump! then squeal of scraping metal as the front axle and wheels went over. Sparks spurted out as the armoured bottom skirts of the cab began scraping along.

Although they were slowing, it wasn't enough...

This is gonna hurt... thought Smoker...

... and threw himself off to one side, tucking and rolling to mitigate the impact as he bowled along the ground.

Jane watched as Smoker did whatever it was he was trying to do and shook her head.  She knew that she couldn't do anything at the time and just had to wait for it to play out to the end to see what would happen.  There would be consequences from this she knew.  She looked over at Rowan.

"You ready Rowan?  You might be needed."

Peter started slowing when it became apparent of the 'remodeling' that had happened to the bridge they were heading towards. However....the semi-truck rig in front of him did not do the same. Did Roadkill know something Peter didn't? Apparently not as FINALLY the truck slammed on its brakes and began skidding to a stop but Peter wasn't sure it would be in time. He had no intention of going over the edge with them, however, so he continued to slow to a stop far back.

 Rowan watches the events unfolding horrified

The rig screech sounded like a death scream as it began to go over the edge. Smoker landed safely on the pavement, rolling to a stop and using the rusty rebar to prevent him tumbling into the the gorge.

It began to go over, then stopped as the edge slammed into the rear wheels of the tractor. The trailer behind kept the front cab from going over, and there it precariously stayed. The engine stalled out. Smoke drifted from the engine compartment.

There was a few seconds of silence, then the driver's armoured door squealed open. Roadkill stumbled out, narrowly falling as he climbed across the side of the rig to get to solid concrete.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 159):

Still on his knees, Roadkill gasped for breath.

"Holy cow, man. That was close. So damn close! A few more feet of momentum and we'd... we'd..." He hung his head, either in exhaustion or shame. It was hard to tell. No, wait, he crawled over to the railing and stuck his head over the side of the bridge. There was the sound of retching.

In reply to Roadkill (msg # 160):

At the rear of the trailer, Simon and his posse climbed down from the back. They conferred for a moment, looking at the damage and guessing what the rig would need to set it to rights.

"This is unfortunate. This could take days to fix. I'd hope to be through Oregon and into Washington tonight or tomorrow."

Sighing, he walked over to the technkcal. "May I ride in the cab with you? My two Templars here will ride double with Trejo and Simon, their brothers. Fred, tghe Librarian, could ride in the rear."

Smoker slowly got to his feet, noting absently that his hands were shaking. Feeling a bit light-headed, he limped over to Roadkill.

"You OK, 'Kill?" he asked, putting an arm around the heaving shoulders.

"Close call, that. Thank you for stopping in time... Take your time now, man. I'll check the damage."

He went over to the rig and began to examine it, firstly reaching in to hit the engine cut-off. He eyed the technical, wondering if it had the pulling power to get the cab back onto solid ground. Until then he couldn't really start in on fixing the engine.

His hands still shook.

Peter glanced at Simon as he watched Roadkill and Smoker's 'escape' from the truck...which actually didn't end up going over the edge thankfully. He faced Simon while sitting in his driver's seat in the technical still.

I suppose that would be doable. Are we not going to attempt to get the semi-truck pulled back from the edge before we leave?"

He paused. "And are we leaving Smoker and Roadkill?"

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 163):

Jane took a deep breath and muttered something that sounded similar to "No, but can we kick his ass anyway?"

She leaned on the back of the technical and shouted "Next time you want to kill yourself let me know.  I can do it quicker and cheaper than ruining equipment.  What were you thinking?"  She took a deep breath and then added "You guys ok?"

Jane had limited patience for people who drank and drove and even less so when they put others in danger.

 Rowan stands up "we do not leave any one alone out here not for any one."
"Now lets see what you men can do about getting the rig back on solid ground again"

Smiling a little, Simon shrugged, not knowing the answer.

"I can't say. We have a schedule to keep, but I don't want to leave your friends."

Wiping his mouth after finishing vomiting over the edge of the bridge. Roadkill staggered over, obviously, from the smell of liquor and the slur of his voice, he wasn't sick from nerves.

"Hell, s'gonna take the rest of the Goddamn day to fix this! Naw, just getting 'er off the edge's gonna take the day, take days to fix. Well, there's a town nearby, so I can probably get some folks to help out.

"Look, Smoke, I ain't gonna give you orders. But it would be a big help if you go into town. There's a garage down there in Ontario that's friendly to the Convoy. Guy named Blackie, me some favours. He's got a tow truck, everything I'll need to get this thing going again. Just tell Blackie, he'll fix me up.

"We made a deal to get Simon where he's goin'. I'll be all right here, if you just go into town and send help I'd 'preciate it. After that, it's up to you, what you wanna do."
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:16, Thu 18 July 2013.

"All right - but let's see if we can get the rig back on solid ground first. You go sober up. And NO MORE DRINKING if you wanna drive."

Smoker assessed the angles.

"How much pullin' power we got here? If we wrap cable around a big rock, can amplify - block and tackle style..."

He limped around looking for the best options.

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 168):

Roadkill looked from the technical, to the rig, and back.

"Tell you the truth, the cab is stuck on the edge and the trailer is holding it there. Now, to pull it off, you unhook the trailer, then the cab could fall over. So first thing we gotta do is tie down the cab to the railings on either side. Then pull off the trailer. After, we can work on lifting the cab up, and pulling it back.

"Honestly? The rig ain't goin' anywhere as long as the trailer is attached. Too heavy to pull off as one unit. Probably too heavy for the technical, even without the trailer. Gonna take all day."

He lit a cigarette, looked at the rig and shook his head.

Peter got out of the technical and walked towards Roadkill and Smoker Nix. "I do have a tow hitch on the technical and we have ropes and chains. Perhaps we could tie off to the cab instead of the trailer and attempt to pull the cab sideways back up over the edge? I have little experience in such things, however."

Taking a drag, Roadkill turned to look at Peter, stumbling a little.

"Sideways? Ain't a lot sideways from the cab, pard, 'cept air! Or, guess we could pivot it around the trailer hitch, but that would only get us so far.

"No, only way t'do it is secure the cab, unhook the trailer and pull that back, then pull the tractor back. And Peter's truck just ain't got the torque. That's 'cause the heaviest part of a  tractor cab is the engine, which is in the nose, which is over the edge. Whole thing weighs close to thirty thousand pounds, fifteen of that bein' the engine."

Staggering a little, he walked over to where the bottom of the tractor's chassis rested against the lip. Squatting a little unsteadily, he sniffed. "Think I smell a little Spook Juice. Any leack, and if we just drag that's gonna make sparks. KA-BOOM! if that happens. Best bet is make some rollers from trees, pull the cab up onto them so we're notdragging steel armour plate actoss concrete."

Smoker limped over to take a sniff as well.

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 172):

Drawing air in, he could detect the sour fermented odour of Spook Juice. It wasn't extremely strong so if there was a leak it wasn't that bad. But it was there.

"Yes, we need to be careful to avoid more sparks..."

Smoker identified solid anchor points on the cab ready to tie it down whilst moving the trailer out of the way. As he concentrated, his hands stopped shaking.

While Simon and his Templars waited and conferred, Fred, the Librarian, gathered everyone together (Sam and Roadkill included).

"I should mention this again... we are on a schedule. It's obvious this is going to take a lot of time to sort out. I appreciate you want to help Roadkill, here. If that's your choice, to stay, then you'll be released from our agreement and can keep half the thousand that was promised to each of you. But we have to keep moving.

"As well, going with you as quasi-independents instead of Goose and his posse was part of a larger plan that involves an element of subterfuge. Hopefully, any enemy like the Combine won't know where Simon is, or has even left Boise. It's remote but possible we could be followed."

In reply to Fred Biletnikoff (msg # 175):

Roadkill spat on the pavement. Looked at his rig, then Simon and company, then Fred and the others.

"Damn it. This is my fault, I guess, but I don't want to leave my rig. Just talk to my friend in town. He'll help me out. You should keep going. Smoker, Peter, all you-all. We just don't have the Goddamn time to keep monkeying around here!"

In reply to Roadkill (msg # 176):

An hour passed as the morning grew towards noon. The efforts to secure the rig and pull back the cab were hampered by the technical simply lacking the horsepower to shift the weight. Plus, Roadkill was still completely hammered.

Peter finally sighed and shrugged. "Right then. Time to mount up, as they say. Smoker, do you want me to take you to the town to find this...friend of Roadkill's? I can either drop you off if you wish to come back and help Roadkill or you can keep riding with me. Your choice."

Peter begins making ready to leave.

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 178):

Jane looked over at Peter and then spoke up.  "You aren't going without me."

She climbs back into the back and patiently waits for whomever else is going.

Rowan  and trickster climb on board looking unhappy at the decision

"I'd better come..." said Smoker and limped over to climb aboard. Once he sat down, his hands started to shake again.

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 181):

"I'll come with you. Talk to Blackfeather myself. The rig ain't going anywhere, that's for sure."

Quickly, he loaded his weapons and gear into the bed of the technical, throwing it randomly in the back. Then he followed.

"Ain't this a fun ride! Woo-hoo!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:43, Mon 29 July 2013.

They quickly made the other bridge, crossed over the Snake River gorge and rolled up to the gates of Near Ontario.

Near Ontario was a typical small town or "colony", in the Wasted West. Once a minor city, Near Ontario was plagued by rioting, looting, Confederate invasion & abomintations during the war. It faired no better after the bombs fell, suffering riotng as well. The survivors rebuilt a small colony on the outskirts. All buildings are in good condition as residents have scrounged other nearby ruins for paint, glass, insulation and other building materials. The portion of the town that makes up the survivor settlement is roughly 6 city blocks and is surrounded by a 13-foot wall made from crushed buildings. The town isn't against mutants, but there are little to no mutants in the population.

Within the town perimeter were several business; from a bakery to a general store, butcher's shop, bunkhouse, hotel and restaurant, as well as a marketplace. Blackfeather's Truck Stop was close to the main gate and next to the garage was a diner, "Sourdough's". Parked by the garage were vehicles for sale: a military Humvee, SUV, dirtbike and even a Sky Sweep ultralight aircraft (which Jane recognised, due to her pilot background).

On the porch of the local restaurant/bar was a menu:

Beakfast:
   Biscuits 'n Gravey (price $6.25)

Lunch & Dinner:
   Meat 'n broccoli (price $50.56)
   BBQ Biscuit Pie (price $10)
   Biscuits (price $2.5)
   Burrito (price $10)
   Chicken 'n Dumplin's (price $6.25)
   Chuckwagon Stew (price $11.25)
   Cooked Sausage (price $6.25)
   Dry Sausage (price $8.75)
   Green Chili (price $15)
   Lasagna (price $11.25)
   Mystery Burger (price $3.75)
   Onion Pie (price $11.25)
   Peaburger (price $3.75)
   Smoked Sausage (price $6.25)
   Stew (price $5)
   Taco (price $7.5)
   Venison Over Pasta (price $28.75)

Desert:
   Sugar Biscuits (price $2.5)

The Junker who ran the truck stop came out to greet the technical as it pulled up. He was a handsome native man in his thirties, wearing greasy coveralls with tools stuck in the pockets.

"Can I help you?"

He peered at the truck (not seeing Simon, hidden in the cab).

"Holy shit! Roadkill, how you doin', you ol' road pirate? Where's your rig?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:51, Mon 29 July 2013.

In reply to David Blackfeather (msg # 185):

Roadkill explained the situation as best he could.

"So I need to borrow your wrecker, a crew, some cables and pulleys..."

In reply to Roadkill (msg # 186):

"Sure thing, brother! I owe you big time, anything that's mine is yours. Within reason, of course."

While he talked he topped up the truck's fuel tank with Spook Juice using an honest-to-God working fuel pump.

"On the house. Don't worry, Roadkill, we'll get you fixed up in no time. Might take the rest of the day. I'll see what I can do to make some enhancements to that pile of rolling junk you driver, what do you say?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:52, Mon 29 July 2013.

"Don't let him drive it again 'til he sobers up," said Smoker.

Jane looked over at Rowan and said in a low voice, "Hey, do you have any cures for alcohol?  As in sober up quick like?"

Hearing some form of commotion and the mention of work to be done Walker rolled out from under the chassis of an old Toyota Hi-Lux, wiping dirty hands on dirtier coveralls.

"Hey Boss? You need a hand?"

Getting up off the Trolly Walker walked up behind Davey and gave the new arrivals a once over. Looked to be some kind of Gang, but any friend of Davey's was a friend of his until proved otherwise. The Mechanic had been good to Walker over the last few weeks, giving him a roof and a job; enough to live in what passed for relative comfort. In return Walker had helped out around the shop with heavy lifting and basic grunt work, and constructed a new set of Work Benches and Tool Boxes from some decent wood they had traded for the repairs he was currently doing to the Toyota. It had been a fairly happy arrangement. Sure Waller was a little slow, but he was methodical and thorough, and the quality of his work was good. It had been a good deal so far, but Walker was growing impatient. He had been told to stay in Near Ontario to meet a Templar "Recruiter" and so far none had turned up...

He shook his head, eyeing Roadkill. "Shoot, I wish I did. Before Roadkill joined the convoy as a guard on Fast Eddie's rig, he used to drink like a fish and wouldn't stop until he was as drunk as a skunk. It's not like he was a teetotaller or nothing, but it's been a long time since he's been on a bender like this."

When the young man pulled himself from under the Toyota HiLux, Davey grinned at him. "sure thing, hoss. You been a good worker, if we gotta pull a rig offa the edge of the bridge, you bet your ass I want you there...

"Dang it, Roadkill, you drinkin' again? Man, you just ain't gonna quit! Is that fucking Spook Juice?

"Here, let's get that away from him..."
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:49, Tue 30 July 2013.

In reply to Davey Blackfeather (msg # 191):

Indeed, Roadkill had been chugging fuel straight from a jerry can. Spook Juice was toxic, but not immediately deadly. "Juicers" drank the noxious fluid because it was a cheap (if brutal) buzz. Some heavy drinkers reported having vivid hallucinations after getting hammered on Spook Juice. (Shortly before they inevitably died.)

"Ohhh... everyone's got an aura... it's sooo pretty!"

He fought as Blackfeather tried to take away the jerry can. "No! It's mine! Get your own, you damn freeloader!"

Suddenly, Roadkill leaned over and vomited again on the sidewalk. The plastic jerry can bounced off the pavement near his feet, sloshing Spook Juice from the spout. the liquid glinted a bright evil green.

In reply to Roadkill (msg # 192):

Walked saw that the newcomers arrived in a HiLux "technical" (armoured and mounting an M2HB in the bed on a post with gunshield) and 2 motorcycles (a sport bike and a Harley). He couldn't see inside the technical's cab because the armoured gun ports were lowered.

Inside the cab, a middle-aged black man lay slumped in the rear passenger seat. He was having some kind of fit or seizure, and another, older white man dressed in brown robes looked on worriedly. Suddenly, he snapped out of the fit and grabbed the sleeve of the other's robe.

"Fred... there's someone we need here. Find him, find the Walker. Bring him along, make sure of this, no matter what. Do you understand?"

Somewhat mystified by his friend's request, Bilenikoff nodded. As a Librarian he believed in rationality and sanity, but these were in short supply in the Wasted West. "Find the Walker? Yes of course. Have some water. I will return."

The heavily armoured door creaked as he exited. Looking around, he spied Trejo and Jason keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings, although at the moment the most danger they were in was getting Roadkill's puke splashed on their boots. He spoke a few words to them and they nodded, then split up.

In reply to Fred Biletnikoff (msg # 194):

The man that emerged from the armoured HiLux's cab was a Librarian, dressed in their traditional brown monklike robes.

The librarian talked to a couple men in armoured dusters. One was a tall man in a Stetson hat, the other a squat tough-looking Mexican in sunglasses with crossed machetes on his back. Both men started asking questions of the small crowd of Blackfeather employees and townies gathered to watch the spectacle.

Having received some kind of answer from Blackfeather, who pointed him out. Machete-dude stalked over to him and removed his sunglasses, revealing small dark eyes. He wasn't rude, just direct and to the point. His face was weathered, black hair was long and he had a long Fu-Manchu musstache. Under the duster he was bare chested under a leather vest. Most of the skin below the neck was etched with intricate tattoos.

"You Walker? Blackfeather says you're looking for work. We need another mechanic, one who's good with a gun. You want to make $1000 in Convoy trade dollars for two weeks travel? You agree, you stay until the end of the line. If you're in, be ready to move in ten minutes."

Now, $1000 for a couple weeks guard duty was pretty good pay. Even better if it was backed by the Convoy, one of the few functioning trade organisations left in the Wasted West.

Walker looked to Davey first.

"Gotcha... Heavy Chain and the Big Block and Tackle."

He's considering what else they would need when Trejo approaches the group and announces his Offer.

Slightly bemused by man's direct manner he takes his time to give the matter some thought. He owed no body amything here, he'd worked for his food and lodgings, and Davey knew Walker would be moving on at some point. Looked like the Templars had decided he wasn't worth the effort too; he'd been in the town for almost 6 weeks now with no contact.

The Coin was good too.

He gives Davey an inquisitive Nod and gets one of approval back.

"Deal. My stuff is already packed. It'll take me 10 minutes to get the Winch Gear together and Loaded though?"

It would probably only take 5 but he wants to make sure the Heavy Stuff is properly secure and these Folks seemed like they could do with a breather and some food.

"You guys should go try the Peaburgers next door while you wait. The fruit coolers are good too..."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:23, Tue 30 July 2013.

Peter stayed silent and stayed in the technical's cab for a bit. Finally, he got out to stretch his legs a little and heard that they would be leaving in ten minutes. He nodded and looked over the menu that was posted but wasn't sure they had time for a sit down meal. He walked over to Jane (and included Rowan in the look).

"Do you want anything to eat?"

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 197):

Jane smiled at Peter and nodded.  "Never turn down a meal with or from you.  Probably have to get something that's quick and to go.  Want me to stay here and you get it?  Or feel like company getting it."

With a Job to do Walker disappeared off into the back of the Workshop to grab the Heavy Hauling Gear, which he loads onto the back of the Big Towtruck. The work is hard and heavy, and he calls in a couple of the other Junior Mechanics to help him get everything squared away safely.

It takes him about 6 minutes, and another 3 to run out to the Airstream out back to grab his Gear. Sure enough he is pretty much Packed, grabbing the last of his clothing and toiletries and tucking them into the top of his large Frame-Backpack. From under the Bed he grabs an SA Assault Rifle and a bag of Ammunition. Lastly he withdraws a long thin cloth-wrapped bundle that he unravels to real a large Hand-and-a-half Bastard Sword in it's sheath, which he proceeds to strap to the back of his Flak-Vest. This goes on securely and he clips the Assault Rifle to the attending Three-Point Sling. Next he grabs Beans, and then the rest of his "Travelling Gear".

He gives himself a good once over, jumping up and down on the spot to make sure his sound footprint was as low as possible, adjusting a few things here and there until he is satisfied.

Grabbing his Ruck he heads for the door, on time and ready to go.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:58, Tue 30 July 2013.

In reply to Walker (msg # 196):

The Mexican nodded and grunted in reply. Whether in reference to Walker's acceptance of his offer, the invitation to food, or all of the above wasn't clear.

Task completed, he stalked off to his bike to wait for them to get a damn move on. As he waited he lit a smoke, watching Roadkill's antics with a smile of concealed amusement.

In reply to Walker (msg # 199):

When he emerged, he got a good look at his new travelling companions.

The armoured 4-door crew cab HiLux "technical" mounted a Ma-Deuce in the bed and armoured plating all around. The gunner was a blonde woman in camouflage fatigues, black beret and Kevlar vest, and she was talking to a native man, the driver, who was dressed in an infantry battlesuit. Both were well-armed, he with an auto-shotgun and several pistols, she with an exotic-looking SMG.

Standing near them was a redheaded woman in loose travelling clothes and cloak, AK-47 slung on one shoulder. She also carried a medic's shoulder-bag. At her feet was something very unusual, a coyote! It seemed tame, as tame as those wild creatures ever got. A scruffly-looking bearded dude in a duster over several tool pouches and wearing a headscarf was packing an antique FN-FAL.

That left the "twins": the Mexican and the Texican, both riding bikes, both pretty weathered. In fact, this was a fairly mature crew, most looked old enough to have been adults before the war. The youngest were the jackass, Roadkill, and the bearded dude, they had the hard look of those who were children when the bombs fell and came of age in the Wasted West.

Walker strolls up to the assembled group casually, tipping a nod to each as he meets their eyes on the way.

"Greetings!

Anders Walker at your service... Just call me Walker, most folks do. Apparently you guys need a Hand with a Caravan? I'm your man.

Heavy Block and Chain is all loaded. Ready to go.

Where should I stick my Gear?"

As he approaches it becomes apparent that Walker is a clear four or five inches taller than Peter (who is the tallest in the current group at 6'0"), and considerably heavier set. Walker wears Travel Leathers, layers of robust garments to easily regulate temperature. On his feet he wears good quality steel-toe Combat Boots. His Vest has a sheath for what looks like a small broadsword on his back, but it only looks small compared to Walker. On one hip is his trusty Glock, on the other a large Hunting Knife. His main weapon seems to be an SA Assault Rifle with a 2x Scope. His ammo and gear is squared away tidily in a set of decent webbing.

Those with a particularly sharp eye can tell he is wearing some kind of armor under his leathers, the tell-tale signs of plates and gel-pads are clear.

Over this ensemble he wears a long dark-tan leather Duster, topped off with an old and warn Cowboy Hat that matches his Coat.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:40, Fri 02 Aug 2013.

In reply to Walker (msg # 202):

Being a Junker, Davey's wrecker/tow truck looked jury-built and home-made. It was, unusually, a half-track design with a heavy tow bar/crane on the back. There were native totems and symbols painted along the sides. Walker had loaded the heavy block and tackle onto it, and Blackfeather's men were busy loading other gear and tools.


Blackfeather shook Walker's hand. "It's been good. We'll take it from here, you go with these folks. If the Convoy brings you back, all well and good. May the spirits go with you."

Peter glanced at Rowan to see if she wanted anything as he responded to Jane. "No, it is alright. I will get us some food to go since we are leaving soon."

He turned and gave a nod of greeting to the man who came over, a quick glance to appraise the man. "Hello. I am Peter. This is Jane and Rowan," indicating each in turn with his hand. "If you will excuse me, I am going to get food before we leave. Jane, would you help Walker get settled please?"

He then walked unhurriedly over to get food, a few burritos to go.

The 'scruffly-looking bearded dude' smiled at the newcomer.

"Hi. I'm Smoker. Mechanic and scavenger, keep Roadkill's rig running... or did until he wrecked it."

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 205):

Jane nods to the newcomer as she looks him over and gives a slight nod of approval for his weaponry and armor.  "Hey Walker.  Like Peter said, I'm Jane.  You want to store your stuff in the back here with us?  These days as we travel it's a find space and occupy it type thing.  Rowan and I have staked out the back here but there is usually room for another.  Looking at how you're dressed I doubt you'll get in my way when I need to use Baby."

Jane patted the Ma-Duece fondly when she said baby and then looked down at Rowan.  "Whatcha say Rowan and Smoker.  You guys think there's room for another?  And how about you Trickster?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:11, Thu 01 Aug 2013.

"Up to Trickster... I feel lost without something to perch on..."

Smoker turned away, busying himself with his pipe. At least that stopped the shakes.

Rowan Smiles "it is always pleasant to have some one new to talk to"
She looks at Trickster, and shifts in to a low series of whines and yaps, if walker believes his eyes and ears she is talking to the creature. Trickster sneaks forward sniffs once and darts behind Rowans legs again.
Rowan chuckles, " you can take that as approval or trickster would have lit for the horizon.
"

Walker Grins as he says goodbye to Davey and the Posse introduce themselves. Each seemed to have their place, but sure enough a little opening appeared in the back of the Truck just big enough for him to fit into. He slung his ruck into the space and turned back to the group. He'd been with enough caravans to know not to talk business in public if at all possible.

"Nice Wolf..."

Hunkering down Walker waited patiently to get its attention, then cocked his head inquisitively.

Standing back up he grinned and turned back to the Posse.

"Thank you folks..."

He doesn't seem to have much else to say as he scratches his head and grins.

In reply to Walker (msg # 209):

Like most coyotes he'd seen in Alaska, Trickster was skittish and shy. (And looked a little like a cross between a large fox and a small wolf.) For him to come up to anyone was very unusual, although the posse didn't miss the look he exchanged with Rowan, first.

As for Walker, he merely noted that even though this coyote was smart it seemed unusually so.


This message was last edited by the GM at 02:57, Fri 02 Aug 2013.

In reply to Walker (msg # 209):

There was another passenger as well. The Librarian in the brown robes, palm-cam in a shoulder case. He started to climb into the cab, then stopped. He studied Walker for a moment, then resumed awkwardly getting in.

Rowan smiles "coyote not wolf, a wolf with out its pack would be a very unhappy wolf"

Rowan looks at Trickster "if you complain about not having our ride again you and I will have words you let it get away"

Jane gives everybody a smile and nod.  "I am glad that you are all with us."

She then squats down a little bit and looks into the mirror at Peter, winking at him.  "I think we have a full load now Peter.  Take off whenever you are ready."

Trejo sits on his old worn bike, watching the road as the new fellow links up with them.  "Trejo," he says, voice a bit gravelly as he raises a hand in greeting.  The tone is polite even is his scarred face doesn't appear to be.  The eyes keep moving though even as his other hand remains near one of his ridiculously numerous and/or large blades scattered about his person.

He gives a curt nod of agreement at Jane's statements, though which one wasn't clear.  As soon as Peter starts the engine, Trejo does the same and brings the bike to life with a rumbling roar.  Checking his gun and an odd blade or two, he clicks the bike into gear.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:24, Sun 04 Aug 2013.

Peter hands out the burritos to the two women and then settles in to his cab, carefully setting the burrito within reach but where it wouldn't accidentally slide off the seat. He started the engine up and took a bit of the meal, savoring the taste. He then let out a small sigh when Jane spoke up. He gave her a nod and quick-then-gone smile. He put the truck into gear and headed out.

The little convoy pulled out, minus the rig. Trejo and Jason led on their bikes, followed by the technical. The armed gate guard let them through with a wave.

As they drove through the gates, the last they saw of Roadkill was him passed out in front of the garage. Blackfeather was walking over to the pump with a plastic bucket to get some water, he stopped and waved goodbye.

Outside New Ontario and the ruins of old Ontario, the Interstate climbed up the escarpment along the edge of the Snake River valley. The sky had clouded over, and it looked like rain. This would make their travel miserable indeed, but as they had no choice but to drive on, they stopped and put a rain tarp over the back of the HiLux, and a rain cover over the Ma-Deuce. Trejo and Jason pulled on raingear, worn dusters and leather leggings.

Behind them, thunder echoed off the granite faces of the Rockies.

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 215):

She smiled at Peter as she took the burrito.  "Thanks.  It smells good.  Maybe next time we can have a sit down meal."  Jane wished they had time to sit and eat together but their life seldom afforded them that luxury.  Instead they would eat yet another meal on the road but at least they were able to travel together.

She took a bite of her burrito as she started to scan the area as they drove off.

Smoker huddled in a corner feeling lost and bereft.

rowan sits beside him." Feel like talking" she asks softly

The start suggests he didn't notice you until you spoke.

"Um... just... well. Been travelling with Roadkill a whiles, you know. Got used to it. Him yellin' at me, but... well, needing me too. And now. Wrecks the rig, drinking... and just... just says Go. Not wanting help fixing it or nuthing."

Smoker sniffles a bit, then blows his nose on the tail of his shemagh.

Rowan considers both their situations
"I somehow think we have not seen the end of Road kill Smoker."
"Though I can not say the same of my man."
"A wise man once said."
"When you come to the end of a road turn around and realise the end is not yet. We all have places to go and places to be."
"And I will be honest and say I am glad you are with us"

"Thank you," says Smoker quietly, almost a whisper.

"Ain't got nobody, no family or nuthin'"

Rowan laughs and gives him a hug, "silly of course you have, you have us crazy lot."
"Any way I am the same, apart from who you see here, who have I got, no family or kin left alive, as far as I know I am the last witch".
"So you ain't alone in that regard."

As the first drops of rain spattered on the road, they mounted up again. Trickster pricked his ears up at the sound of thunder, then barked, agitated. Thunder echoed off the rugged hills and mountains around them.

"Hey? What is that? Hey!"

Peter cursed a bit and carefully picked up the burrito as he slammed on the brakes, not full on to throw everyone in the back around...unless they weren't situated well. He set the burrito back on the seat as he turned the truck around and sped back towards the town they had just come from.

"GET READY BACK THERE! I AM HEARING EXPLOSIONS FROM BACK WHERE WE JUST LEFT!"

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 225):

Jane hung on as Peter turned the truck around.  Explosions?  What explosions.  She must have been in a daze not to have heard.  Hopefully nobody noticed that she hadn't heard it and got into position behind Baby so that she would be ready if it was needed.

Looking back over his shoulder, his ugly mug gets a bit uglier as he scowls.  He scowls even deeper as the truck's brakes squeal a bit.  He turns his bike into a hard turn and pulls up along side.

"No!  That's a good 10 or 12 miles away!  Close to 20 or 30 minutes just to get there.  And if it is trouble, you'd be riding headlong into it without a clue.  The task at hand is to guard Simon.  That is the priority!  Sending the whole group back is needlessly risking him.  If nothing else, either Jason or I will take a look and then report back.  Out bikes are faster and more agile.  But we are not taking Simon back there!  He's more important," the scarred up templar barks.

Peter stopped and slowly turned a face upon Trejo which was a combination of almost no expression combined with angry eyes. He didn't speak for a moment since he knew Simon would just "stick up for his boy" and want to press on no matter what Peter said. And telling Simon and his Bookkeeper to ride with Trejo and Jason while Peter took the truck back would just engender arguments and possible stupidity.

He got out of the truck and walked to stand within a few feet of Trejo. When he spoke, his voice pitched low and far too calm for the obvious anger. "Have a care with your tone. Your precious Simon is just a job to me so don't bark orders. Go back to the town and see what happened, while I wait with your Templar here then if that is your choice."

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 228):

Getting out of the cab of the truck, Fred didn't like what he heard either back at the town, or here, now.

"Please. Let's not argue or fight. We have a schedule to keep. If we wait any more, we will be late and that could be serious indeed.

"More to the point, the reason we didn't go with Goose and the Convoy is we feared that Black Hats might stop us, so this is why we left in secret, with you. So far it's worked, the Combine doesn't know where we're gone, and they have not intercepted us or set an ambush. They don't know where we're going but it was possible they could follow us, and I would guess that's what happened.

"Before we left town, I warned them Black Hats might be following us, so they wouldn't have been taken unaware and were willing to stop or delay pursuit. Plus we had other cards up our sleeve to help them out. Either they can handle what was following, or they can't, and anyone going back to try and assist is futile.

"So again, I beg you, let's continue, all of us."

He looked at the people standing there, then back at the valley.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:56, Fri 09 Aug 2013.

Rowan from her perch in the techni

"Let move it people I really do not want to mix it with the black hats again"
"trickster says he hears strange booms and thunder"

The clouds opened up at this point and it began to rain. There were still explosions down in the valley.

From miles away it sounded not unlike the rumble of distant thunder.
This message was last updated by the GM at 10:21, Fri 09 Aug 2013.

Rowan Screams

" All of you move it do it NOW we need to get away"

Smoker listened, head cocked to one side.

"Whatever, we're best out of it, not running towards it!"

Rowan smiles "you got that right"

Trejo just sat on the rumbling bike as he watched the fellow get out of the truck practically stalk up to him.  "Orders? My tone?," he scoffs.  "You mean me yelling to be heard over 2 bikes, 1 truck, the booming explosions and some squealing brakes?  Don't go looking for a fight where one isn't needed and you won't get one," he says with an easy and humorless smile.  "But its nice to know that all his life means to you is another payday."

Of course the smile, such as it was got wiped off, or maybe washed off, in the sudden rain.  "Great," he mutters.  "Better get back in your rig.  This shit ain't healthy," he says as an aside to the ruffled driver.  It wouldn't be long before Trejo got drenched either, rain gear or not.  "Regardless, they're right. We need to move.  One way or another, someone's gonna be coming to look for us.  Better we aren't found when we're not ready.  Pray the town back there listened.  If they did, they'll be alright and likely killing some Black Hats.  More power to 'em."

<quote Trejo>


Trejo just sat on the rumbling bike as he watched the fellow get out of the truck practically stalk up to him.  "Orders? My tone?," he scoffs.  "You mean me yelling to be heard over 2 bikes, 1 truck, the booming explosions and some squealing brakes?  Don't go looking for a fight where one isn't needed and you won't get one," he says with an easy and humorless smile.  "But its nice to know that all his life means to you is another payday."

Rowan looks at Trejo, "no it is not just another pay day Trejo, it is some thing I was asked to do and will get it done if I can."
"The Templars I have called friend have always been decent folks".
"I even carry one of their swords in memory and with Simmons blessing." "So no it is more than a job to me"

Walker, for his part, helps get the Truck Rain-Proofed, quickly and easily. He listens in to the conversation as he can hear it, fits and starts over the noise of the Explosions and Vehicle Engines. Its not pretty and he ends up wondering what he has gotten himself in for.

Simon? Who is Simon? And where are we going? And Templars? Who is a Templar?

His face screws up a little in puzzlement.

Just another Caravan... Everyone has their own issues...

Let it go Anders, find out later.

Just Smile and Wave...

He does just that as Jane catches his eye.

"What-ever we are going to do... we should do it... quickly."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:58, Fri 09 Aug 2013.

He looked past the driver and towards Rowan.  He her a quick nod and a half smile.  She was doing remarkably well, pushing on and still trying, considering her man just blew her off.  He could respect that.  Odd crew.  Solid but odd.  "Never said it was.  I can only go on what I see and hear.  And never heard otherwise from you."  He lifted his foot to click the bike back into gear, a sign he heard Walker and wanted to get a move on.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:56, Fri 09 Aug 2013.

Jane nodded to Walker and then looked back at Peter.  "We need to move Peter.  Make the call.  While I don't like it, we would be arriving too late if we went back.  Rowan and trickster are sensing something and say we need to move.  You know baby and I go with you but whatever your decision, it needs to be made now."

Jane didn't have to like leaving the town but if they had been warned then they had  a chance.  The times didn't call for them to win all the fights but if she lived another day to carry on the fight, then she'd be happy.

Peter shook his head but said nothing else. He walked back to the truck and climbed in. He started it up again and turned it around again, then started driving. He kept his eyes on the road and didn't look at or respond to anyone.

He was starting to have second thoughts about this job.

Walker started to piece some things together.

The Monk dude was not Simon, he wasn't sure who he was at this point.

So Simon had to be someone else. Someone hidden in the Cab?

The "Caravan" has been hired to take this Simon somewhere, and that is somewhere North. That's good at least. I know where we are going... A little.

And this whole thing is Templar Related?

Keep your mouth shut!

Walker does so, but he cannot help looking around his companions.

He lists them... Trying to remember their names. There was a trick to it somewhere.

Trejo and Peter... Nix... Jane... And Rowan. And the Canine. Trickster?

Someone named Roadkill had been left back with Davey. Hopefully the two had gotten out of town and had managed to Salvage the Rig they'd been talking about.

Jane leaned on Baby so that she could look in the mirror at Peter, hoping to catch his eyes.  Hers were worried but she wasn't sure if it was the job or that it was better to turn around or that Peter was being silent.  He was normally silent but she could tell that he wasn't please with turning around.

Trying to avoid further pursuit, the small caravan soon turned off the Interstate. They travelled for the rest of the day using surface routes, until it begins to grow dark. The going was slow for the little caravan, but aside from washouts and bridge outages there was no one or nothing that wanted to have anything to do with them.

The rain continued in fits and starts until dusk. They climbed into the mountains, and it grew chill.

The passenger, Simon, kept to himself in the cab of the technical, save for quick bathroom breaks. He seemed to be weak, but got no weaker. He was wearing ragged clothing under a patched duster. Fred, the man in Librarians' robes, directed them where to go, which turns to take in the hills and mountains.

Finally, as the last light faded under the angry clouds, they turned off the road and bumped up a badly weathered, potholed side road. The rain had stopped but blocked out the stars.

"Stop here," said Fred the Librarian, consulting his palm computer, which had a map display running. They were in a wide clearing, wooded hillsides all around them. It grew quiet.

Marshall's Note: Everyone can make an Onerous [TN 7] Task Check using Cognition.

Walker dismounts into the rain ahead of the rest of the crew, poncho on, M4 up and at Port-Arms as he walks the perimeter of the clearing, checking tracks, looking for places to post watch etc.

Something has him a little spooked and he is very very quiet as he walks, about 15-20m into the treeline.

---OOC---

Cog 18, Survival (Mountain) 7.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:46, Mon 12 Aug 2013.

Smoker scrambles out, feeling a bit lost without the rig to do routine maintenance on.

He approaches Peter, rather nervously.

"Um. Is there... is there anything I can, er, well, help with? On the truck, I mean?"

He's fidgeting from foot to foot...

Jane stayed with baby until the all clear was given.  While she waited, she scanned the area and hoped that things would go better this time around.

Driving a bike in the rain through the back roads was far from pleasant.  Going onto dirt roads that were washed out, pot holed and filled with mud was just that much worse.  At least the rain washed off most of the mud that built up on Trejo, his duster and his bike.  Mostly.

Dismounting and killing the rumbling engine, the burly blade covered fellow gave the tree line a dark scowl.  Hands on his weapons, he kept an untrusting glare searching the area.   He didn't know the new fellow well but letting the man walk alone into the treeline wasn't going happen.  Too many things out in the wilds to not be careful, be they human or otherwise.  Trejo followed enough to keep an eye on him.  If Walker seemed to be about to leave sight of the clearing (which Trejo wasn't  leaving; he was here to guard Simon after all), he'd call out to Walker.  It wasn't like that would be louder than the vehicles.

In reply to Trejo (msg # 247):

Rowan sits on the truck with Trickster both sheltering under a semi water proof blanket." Do you sense any thing out there Trickster" she asks her friend

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 248):

The coyote walked around in the darkness, marked a tree.

"I Dunno! Nothing around. But funny noises above," he said.

In reply to Trejo (msg # 247):

Climbing down from the armoured truck, Jason had a look around. He'd been a lawman by trade before the war and then his answering the call of the Templars, so he drew on that knowledge. "Trejo, buddy, let's git a little ol' perimeter goin', here. Anyone attacks, they's followin' us, so Janey's got the road covered.

"Trejo, you and Walker cover to the front. Smoker, how's about you and me watch the left. Peter, you and Rowan keep a watch on the right?

"Sun's down down, dark as sin out here. Ain't nobody done go off alone now! You see somethin', call it out."

He pulled back the bolt of his P90, then kept it at low-ready.
This message was last updated by the GM at 11:17, Mon 12 Aug 2013.

Peter pulled the truck over and turned it off when the Librarian "asked" him to. He looked over at the Librarian after a moment when the other didn't offer up anything. "Why are we stopping here?"

He didn't seem to respond to Sinclair's orders, at least at first. He waited for the Librarian's response but did occassionally glance to the right side of the road area.

Smoker continued to fidget... looked as if he were doing the 'potty dance' - as he waited for Firecrow to answer his query.

In reply to Trickster (msg # 249):

rowan frowned trying to decide what Trickster means is convoluted to say the least some times.
"People I am not sure what Trickster means but keep an eye out above you, he says there are strange noises up there"

It wasn't very often that Jane had to pivot Baby up but she could and nodded to Rowan.  "Understood Rowan." She did one more sweep "around" and then looked up to see if she could see anything.

rowan calls softly
"Smoker would you help us please, check the area out"

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 251):

Getting out, Fred checked his watch and peered into the darkness.

"This is a rendez-vous point for Sky-Raiders that are coming to pick us up. Look for a helicopter or VTOL of some kind, I would imagine."

He held up 3 road flares. "When they come, we light these in a right-angle triangle, tip pointing south, as a recognition signal."
This message was last edited by the player at 09:56, Tue 13 Aug 2013.

Trejo gave an absent nod to Jason as he construed to watch and cover Walker.  He glanced up at Rowan's words, nodding with a scowl at Fred's confirmation.  "Sky Raiders and diplomacy, fascinating," he mutters.  He glanced back down and over at Walker as his brain tickled a thought to the fore.  He'd have to get back to that; now was not the time.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:47, Mon 12 Aug 2013.

Rowan
"All of us with the vehicles"

Peter grimaced and didn't care if the Librarian saw it. He got out of his truck and leaned up against it. He pulled out guns one by one and checked them over, looking outward and upward frequently.

Fred paid Peter no mind.

"It's going to be a couple hours yet. We made better time than I thought after the town."

He looked up at the night sky as well, but couldn't hear anything.

In reply to Fred Biletnikoff (msg # 260):

His strength seemingly recovered a little, Simon climbed out of the truck. He seemed kindly to Walker, tired but with sympathetic eyes. "A beautiful night. Little cold. Refreshing, right?

"Jason, you have a radio. Why don't you go back down the road a spell, keep watch for followers? That'll give us some warning. Trejo, keep him company."

He padded over to Walker, bent in close.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:10, Tue 13 Aug 2013.

In reply to Simon (msg # 261):

Jason looked a little surprised that Simon countermanded everything he'd asked of the posse, but as head of the order of the Temple, that was his right.

"C'mon, Trejo. He's the boss." He let the P90 drop as he mounted his bike, starting it up with a whirr of the starter. The motor coughed to life, then he rode off slowly, splashing through the mud of the track.

If there was something coming from the starry darkness overhead, only the coyote seemed to hear it. The moon was up in the west, a thin silver crescent flying behind some clouds. An owl hooted, not a signal but a real owl.

Smoker came over to Rowan.

"What do you want me to do?"

Returning to the Truck Walker reported in to Trejo and Peter, informing them that the surrounding forest is at least nominally clear.

Moving to the back of the truck he checked his Gear over, making sure it had been kept dry. As he is checking, an older gentleman that he has not seen before wanders up beside him. At first Walker is on his guard, but the others in the Camp seem to know the guy so Walker relaxes slightly.

As the man leans in to mumbles to him he stiffens, hand going to the hilt of the Sword  behind his head. Again he relaxes, and draws the sword slowly, presenting it to the Old Man, Hilt first.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 11:41, Tue 13 Aug 2013.

He kept his gaze roaming, searching for trouble.  Maybe keeping an eye on Walker a bit.  Not that the Templar wasn't a trusting sort.  Ok, he wasn't.  But folks in his posse tended to get the benefit.  Just that sword thing kept nagging at his thoughts.

At Simon's words, Trejo immediately brought his gaze around.  When Simon spoke, he listened.  Always.  He might not agree or like this particular order but the rest of the posse was there after all, right?  He gave his leader a deep and respectful nod before heading over to his bike.  "I'm not deaf or senile yet.  Pretty sure you don't, and shouldn't, be trying to order around your elders.  Been at this longer than you," he said gruffly, flashing his former squire a quick smile to take any sting out of the words.

He started up his bike as Walker drew the sword and handed it over.  That takes care of that, he thought before heading down the road a bit.

Jane hadn't seen anything yet but then it wasn't unheard of to be caught unaware.

She took her eyes off of the skys and surrounding area to quietly report to Peter.

"Don't see anything yet.  Will keep watching though.  If Trickster heard or felt something it might not be here yet.  His hearing is better than ours."

"Just walk with Me please Smoker, Trickster report strange noises and I do not think any one should be alone"

Peter watched Simon like a hawk when the man got out of the truck. He was glad that the man liked the fresh air, but wished the job was over. He frowned as he took note of the exchange between Walker and Simon. He rolled his eyes and looked away. ANOTHER Templar? They were everywhere! But, he mused, the group WAS in what was essentially "Templar Country".

He nodded to Jane. "Very true. Keeping ears perked and eyes peeled is all we can do."

In reply to Walker (msg # 265):

Although his face was difficult to see in the dim light, Simon shook his head and smiled. He placed his hand softly on Walker's arm, and took something from him. A bundle of some sort.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:55, Thu 15 Aug 2013.

In reply to Trejo (msg # 266):

The two Templars rode up the track, then parked their bikes. They were able to set up an OP overlooking the highway. From there they could keep a watch, to warn the posse if someone was following them. If need be they could set an ambush, buy enough time for the others to get away.

Back at the truck, all was quiet.

Trejo was not exactly the sneaking sort.  But he understood the need at times, even if he sucked at it.  He took a moment to find a good place to park the bike, out of the way but available for a quick get away.

He waited for newer templar to do the same before scouting out the immediate area and finding a good spot to watch and wait.

He hated waiting...

"All right, Rowan. What does Trickster think is awry?"

The small scruffy figure limped over.

Rowan shrugs
"He is not sure, says he hears strange noises that he does not understand"

"If he isn't happy, it is wise to stay alert," said Smoker, looking round suspiciously. Never happy out in the open, he looked up at the tree branches above.

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 274):

The coyote seemed to have settled down a bit, and was no longer acting agitated.

 Rowan looks at Trickster and taps her foot, "trickster are you saying there is nothing out there now"

In reply to Rowan Dawson (msg # 277):

Trickster looked up, then sniffed the grass.

"Gone now."

Having finished his conversation with Walker, Simon walked back to the truck. Climbing in, he started to doze again.

Quiet returned to the wide-open forest clearing. Wind rusted the tree branches. It grew cold as the night progressed. Water from the earlier rains quietly dripped from the trees.

Out at the road, Trejo and Jason kept a silent watch.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:04, Fri 16 Aug 2013.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 279):

After seeing to Simon, Fred returned to his nervous vigil beside the HiLux. He alternated between looking up at the stars and down at his palm-computer.

"They're late. I was afraid this might happen. If they're not here by midnight, then there's an alternative location for pickup."

Rowan turns to smoker "lets get back to the rest"
"What ever trickster heard is no longer here."
"Smoker if you want some one to simply be around, stick with me."
"Road kill will be back when he is good and ready"

"Thank you... I just feel... a bit, well, lost without the rig to fix. I asked Pete if he needed any maintenance work doing on his truck but he ignored me."

Smoker smiled at Rowan, then down at Trickster.

"How did you two come to team up?"

Rowan considers "he wandered into my small camp one night and stayed."
"As to Pete, Well I think he is so used to doing every thing him self, he did not even realise what you were offering Smoker"
Rowan grins "tell you what when I get a vehicle again you can work on that, how does that sound"

Smoker's eyes lit up.

"That would be great, Rowan."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:31, Fri 16 Aug 2013.

Peter glanced sideways at Fred the Librarian as he spoke up, assuming he could hear the other man. He lit up a cigarette and took a long drag, then slowly let it out. "Sure thing. Whatever you say." He looked around his "field of fire" again to make sure nothing was sneaking up on them.

A couple hours later, time was running out. It was dark and peaceful, night birds called and small animals rustled in the pine trees bordering the wide meadow.

Out by the turnoff to the main road, Trejo and Jason heard a rapidly approaching pair of motorcycles. Two riders came into view around a bend, then slowed at the turnoff. Stopping, it looked like they were debating about something. One of them pulled out a red-filtered torch, and started playing it on the side of the road by the turnoff, looking for something.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 286):

Raising his P90, Jason got ready to fire. Before engaging, he asked his fellow lawman and his former Knight, "you figure these are friends or foes, Trejo?"

"They're too far," he said quietly as he watched.  "Wait till they get close and we'll pop 'em then.  With luck they'll miss the sign in the dark and drive on.  I'd rather not make noise; echoes and all."  He didn't bother responding about the friend or foe bit; sure seemed obvious enough to him.  They were on a secret transport mission, to an unknown destination, at night, carrying the most important person in their entire order if not in a larger sense.  The odds were kind of on the low side for friends he figured.

In reply to Trejo (msg # 288):

Nodding, Jason let the HK P90c drop to it's tactical sling across his chest. Instead, he drew his sword from its scabbard, a Templar's best friend. It was an ancient broadsword, some said it was a museum piece dating back to the Crusades. Perhaps it had been quenched in the blood welling from a Saracen throat.

He would wait until they passed, and then lop the head of the closest rider off with a sure swing.

In reply to Jason Sinclair (msg # 289):

At first, Trejo was convinced those were 2 Black Hat scouts. Ever since he'd escaped from the Combine, he had waged a 1-man war against Throckmorton's minions wherever and whenever he could. Probably his best kill to date was riding by and aiming his machete in a vicious overhand chopping motion downwards to the base of a Black Hat's neck, splitting him diagonally in two. The man's head, neck and 1 shoulder slowly slid off his torso in a fountain of red gore. Then the grenade he was holding in his hand and about to throw into the passing Rig exploded, scattering baseball-sized chunks of bloody meat for dozens of feet in all directions.

Then he realised in the dim moonlight and backscatter of the bike headlights he could make out the two riders were wearing Templar tabards, red cross on a white background, with swords belted at their waists. Having decided where to go, they turned off the road and started slowly up the trail in their direction. He thought he could recognise them as well; an older black woman (Winnie Franklin) and a young man with a beard and long hair in a ponytail (Denis Carlton).

Back in the moonlit mountain meadow, it got colder as the hour drew close to midnight and the wind picked up. Most of the people there didn't note anything out of the ordinary, but a few did. Trickster yelped and looked up.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 290):

Recognising the riders, Jason checked his lunge while still in cover, then gave Trejo a worried glance.

Peter frowned for a moment. Something was wrong. He wasn't sure what. He looked around, then finally looked up. His eyes widened. "What...the hell is that?"

He glanced to Fred then started to raise a gun. "Is this your ride, or do we open fire?"

Trejo gave a frown as he recognized the tell-tale tunic.  So much for secret.  And what was going on that caused 2 more of the brethren to show?  In the middle of the night no less.  Nothing good probably.

He relaxed his posture, digging for a lighter and one of his shinier blades.  A little reflected light should get their attention without his having to shout and alert the country-side.  "Templars," he remarked to his former pupil, letting him know.

Jane shivered.  "heads up. Rowan and Trickster. Is that what you were feeling earlier?  Look up North.  I don't see any stars and whatever that is that is up there isn't a regular vehicle.  That would show up similar to silver with this moonlight tonight.  I don't see ANY light at all from it.  What's up with that."

Jane made sure that Baby was readied.