"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.