Once Kelly was done, Fletcher got to his feet and put a bit of tentative pressure on the wounded leg.  When it held a bit of his weight and didn't drop him to the floor in pain he gave the Templar an appreciative nod and then turned his attention towards getting re-dressed.

"You, uh, dream 'bout that often Dean?"  Fletcher asked, his tone making it clear he was inquiring more for information regarding the situation at hand then a want or need for Dean to spill his guts in any sort of verbose way.


To Harry he gave a nod.  "'Prolly have enough parts to get somethin' goin'."

Crowboy diligently followed Kelly's directions and did his best to be a helpful assistant.  Not a lot of experience in helping tend to wounds, rather than helping hand them out.  His eyes widened as he watched Kelly call on that miraculous healing that had pulled him back from death.  He then snapped quickly to some form of surprised attention at Kelly's question, "Uh...  Um... Cuz you don't shoot the fifty cal when a blade'll do?  Run outta ammo when you gotta shoot somethin' big?"  The former highwayman didn't sound sure, but mostly because he never sounded sure when speaking to Kelly.

When Harry cut in, he rounded his attention to the big cyborg, "No...  No dreams or anything.  Prudence either."

Crowboy looked back again to Kelly, "Should I go ask around?  Like he said?"

"Good enough."  Kelly responded, high praise from her.  He was learning though, she was a tiny bit proud.  But he couldn't be allowed to know that.

"Yeah that's a good idea go check with them.  Honestly if I had to blame anything right now it'd be the truck, but only because it's shown the ability to mess around with our heads and muck around in there.  But that's like blaming me after finding a corpse with its head cut off.  Yeah I might have the tools to do it, that doesn't mean I did it though."  She shrugged.

"Maybe it, for lack of a better word, 'saw' something?  I mean I don't think it actually sleeps, I think it more makes allowance for the fact that we sleep."

"There weren't a ton of us that came back," he said in response to Harry.  "And damn sure the Aurok's didn't.  They were...tied to the planet I guess you could say.  They'd never come here, even if they could."

He gave a little shrug.  "About as often as anyone who went through some kind of hell.  It sucked.  Made my peace with it long while back."

OOC:
Doing the psychic detect thing?
21:27, Today: Dean Mitchel rolled 5,1 using 1d8,1d6, rerolling max ((5,1)).

Crowboy gave Kelly a quick affirmative nod and, hand on his hilt, hopped off the trailer and set off to ask around the caravan.  In fact, there was quite a bit of movement stirring up around the trucks and vehicles of the convoy.  They were to set off this morning and preparations are already getting under way...

---

Dean took a moment, shutting his eyes and focusing for a moment.  He quickly got a flash of...something...  Rifle fire...  Screams...  War cries...  The snarl of chanouk...  Psychic residue from the dreams.  The stain of it was reaching out from....Dean...  Tendrils of it still tried to reach back out from him to the waking minds of the other Dogs.  Then he suddenly felt like something was looking back at him...something cold and hateful...

Fletcher nodded at Dean's reply.

"'Dunno how all've it works exactly, but could a syker cause what all just happened?"  He asked.

"Dependin' on who you ask, syker's can do damn near anythin', for better or worse."

"There is...something.  Using fears, manipulating the dream.  My dreams.  Pulling them, spreading, touching you lot.  It's...watching, whatever it is.  And it's cold and angry," he said with a frown, trying to put the impressions into words.  "Doesn't feel like something I've encountered before.  Not sure sure it's a psycher either; this was way stronger than what I've seen pyschers doing.  Sorry.  Best I can tell," he added with a shrug.


OOC:
Sorry for the delay all.  Been swamped.

Kelly grimaced.  If she could put a sword through it, she could deal with it, but it sounded like something that couldn't be sword-ed.

"Well.  That's juuuust great.  We might have to rotate sleeping."  She quickly amended.  "More than we already do."

"Since I fell asleep with the rest of you," Harry says, "we can't be sure that's an effective measure against...whatever this thing is. I don't sleep like the rest of y'all do. When I shut down, I shut down. It's a process regulated by the Chip in me that keeps the demon inside locked tight -- time was, when I'd sleep before, the demon'd send me nightmares, probably to try and break me, keep me down while it used me as its meat puppet. The Chip they put in me when I was canned keeps it  out o' my brain. Mostly. But I still need to shut down once in a while for the demon to do the mojo it does that keeps me goin'. So normally when you see me out, and I'm all quiet and still, it's because my Chip shut off my brain and I'm literally dead to the world." He shook his head. "But I was dreamin' this time. Same as the rest of you. Which means that whatever this thing is, it could pull my mind into Dean's dream when by all rights I ought to be nothin' more than a lump of meat and metal. Maybe it didn't affect Crowboy and Pru because they were awake. Or maybe it's because the thing didn't want 'em for some reason."

He's quiet a moment, letting that sink in. "That's why we ought to see if anyone else in Turk's crew was affected. Because that'll give us more to go on, and let us know if this cold angry thing is just generally unpleasant or if it has a specific beef with us."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:15, Tue 02 Mar 2021.

Fletcher nodded at Dean's explanation.

"So, somethin's 'prolly out there.  Might see if it follows when we move on,. Might do, might get lucky and it doesn't."  He commented.

To Harry, Fletcher stated.  "We can try that interface rig whenever you're ready.  Get a full survey of everyone here, not just those of us up and walkin' 'round."

"Well in that case, maybe the rest of us ought to help check on the other crew, I assume they'll want to get moving sooner than later.  It'll take less time that way."

Kelly stretched herself and moved to fetch everything she normally kept about her person.  She normally didn't bother with her rifle while stopped "in camp", but kept it handy in the cab in case there was something worth shooting.

Frowning at the idea, he stretched the newly healed arm.  He didn't like or trust McKellar as far as he could throw the Dog.  But that didn't mean the rest of the folk weren't in trouble or might know something.  "Fair enough," he said simply as he reached to grab his gear.

The truck crews are finishing packing away the last of the gear.  The crew of the Reefer Man's Ice Box are providing breakfast for the scouts and crews.  Looks like pancakes cooked on an electric griddle.  Syrup too.  And butter.  Everyone is stopping by in turn to get their share.

The locals have mostly cleared back to their homes. All good things must end, even the convoy fair.  A few linger, not willing to admit that the convoy will be leaving again...and they getting left here.  Again.  Some of the survivors are negotiating, trying to join a crew.  Some might manage it.  Some of the crew, contracts up, might choose this place to stop roving.  Its the way of the convoy.

Over by Turk's Grand Bizarre, it looked like the Drivers are gathering up.  In the Convoy, the Driver is the owner, commander, bossman, baro, alpha and omega.  Doesn't necessarily mean they drive the truck.  Bud leaves that mostly to his son.  Reefer Man has Maytag for it.  Everyone still knows who's in charge.

Someone from the Black Dog should probably make a showing at the Driver Team Meeting....

Since the inertia seemed to be towards 'let's just leave and see if that solves this new problem' rather than 'let's go looking for something we might not be able to even find, let alone deal with', Fletcher got his stuff together and then headed for the cab of the Dog.

He planned on getting the last bits of the interface connector he'd been working on double checked and connected into the Dog's systems so Harry could plug in when he was ready to give it a test, since it was probably better they try and check that the driver was ok after the night's curious events before hitting the road.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:50, Sat 06 Mar 2021.

At The Driver Team Meeting:

Harry, feeling the most responsible to handle such things, made his clanking way across the lot to join the Drivers.  Generally, the crews and folk milling about with the last preparations had a happy, carefree attitude.  That fades a bit as the cyborg walks through.  Conversations faded away.  Work stopped.  All attention went to the monstrous war machine as he passed.  After he passed, work resumed and the conversations started again...with a new topic...

All four of the convoy Drivers stood separate from the rest at the front of the Grand Bizarre.  Seems like everyone just knows to give the group as much privacy as possible during Team Meetings.  The quartet's conversation stops like all the others as they take note of Harry's approach.

Turk moved aside to make sure there was a spot in the circle for the cyborg and gave him an acknowledgment, "Mornin', Harry."  He began to indicate the others in the circle, "Patience, you already met back at Texarcana."  The woman in the yellow duster folded her arms over her chest and eyed Harry with a stiff nod.  Turk continued round to a little old man chewing on a cigar, "This is Bud.  8-Ball is his."

The old man tilted back...and back to look up at Harry.  He adjusted his thick glasses to try as he tried for a good look.  He plucked the cigar from his lips and spoke with a gravelly, deadpan monotone, "And I thought getting old was tough...  You found one hell of a loophole, son."

Finally, Turk indicated the last Driver.  Its not often to see someone overweight these days.  Underweight is far more common.  Starving is another way of saying it.  This man doesn't look like he's had to worry about starvation or privation in a very long time, "This is Robert.  His is the Ice Box.  The reefer truck.  You'll likely hear some folks calling him the Reefer Man."

Robert cast a quick look up at the iron giant and managed a quick, friendly smile...but looked away again.  Obviously a little uncomfortable in Harry's presence.  In fairness, most folks are.

---

Back at the Dog

After Harry had stepped off to the Meeting, Fletcher made his way to the cab to work on the interface.  Prudence stayed with the Ma Deuce at the far end of the trailer.  She had stepped a little closer during the initial confusion of the morning, but had moved back to her spot again.  The .50 was a heck of a prize and, while they were technically under the protections of the convoy rules, sometimes folk were still tempted.

Which left Kelly and Dean at the teardrop recovering.  Rearranging.  Resetting.  Discussing could-be's and might-be's.  That's where Crowboy finds them as he comes back.  He's finishing off the last of a rolled up pancake as he tries to speak.  He coughs, nearly chokes, then chokes it down.  "Ma'a...*cough*.. Ma'am?  Sir?  Don't seem like no one had any troubles...  There ain't a lot of folks.  But no one's talkin' about anything weird."  He shrugged apologetically, then added, "There's food though by that cold truck.  It's real good."

Just past Crowboy's shoulder, Kelly and Dean could see a young man.  He stood out because he looked to be trying to psych himself up to talk to Crowboy or Kelly or Dean or all three.  Sometimes you can just tell when someone wants to talk to you.  Beside this man is a woman.  She was speaking quickly and quietly with her companion; maybe to encourage....maybe to warn off...

Kelly - Make a Notice Roll

"Taking strange food are you?"  Kelly asked Crowboy suspiciously.  So distracted was she that whatever was happening might as well not have existed at the moment.

17:05, Today: Kelly MacLeod rolled 1,1 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,1.  Oblivious or not, that is the question.

Nice.  That's a Rusty Harry quality roll right there.

Harry was somewhat used to this, so he gave his best neighborly wave with his normal arm, making sure to keep his chainsaw arm down and nonthreatening. He wasn't entirely sure how much, if at all, that mitigated any concerns about him, but it wasn't as if he could do much about it anyway.



Harry nods at the other drivers, tipping his hat. "Howdy." he says.



"Bein' dead ain't much of a living." Harry says with a shrug. "But I make do. Could be worse." He glances over in the direction of the Maelstrom around Dallas.



Harry nods at Robert. "Howdy."

At The Driver Meeting:

Bud grinned a sly old grin that displayed a not a few gaps where teeth once were, "Being dead ain't much of a living....  I think we'll get along just fine, dead man."  Patience and Robert responded politely to Harry's hat tipping and howdy-ing, but didn't add much else.  They all just looked back to Turk.  Patience especially had a Get on with it look.

Turk took the hint, as well as moment to adjust his fez as he looked up to the towering machine that was Harry, "Like I said yesterday when you arrived, we're headin' out this morning.  Convoy's on our northern route, headin' back for points West.  Next big stop is Near Amarillo."  He paused for effect, then kept going while rubbing thoughtfully at the scruff of his beard, "The route between here and there takes us awful close to the Changed Lands...  The old Coyote territory...  And you know how shit that place is.  I've been hearin' tales of some king of the savages in there startin' to raise up a ruckus and the route has gotten iffy the past year or so.  So we've decided to make this section in one go...  Day and night.  Three day run.  We got a couple of trade drops we are gonna try for.  Short leg stretchers.  No stops for more'n an hour or so."

Turk tilted his look, curious, up to Harry, "We got back up drivers.  Change out at the drops or change out on the fly.  I kinda wondered if this'd be an issue for you given all that..."  He makes a motion around his head, likely indicating where Harry's cyber parts are.

At the Black Dog

Crowboy's eyes went wider at Kelly's question.  He looked suddenly like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  He also looked like he was desperately trying to think how to fix whatever he'd done wrong.  He just had to figure out what he did, "No...  I mean yes...  I mean...  They said it was for everyone in the Convoy and..  I mean, we're in the Convoy...  Ain't we?  I just...  shit..."

The young man whispered something back to the girl and puffed himself up with a bit more courage.  He walked on up behind Crowboy, inadvertently rescuing the former bandit from his own over-thinking.

Mateo waved in a friendly fashion and to indicate he wasn't approaching with weapons out, "Hey!  Scuse me!  Which one of you do I talk to about hiring on?  I...we...  We need to get West and I hear that's where you are going."

The girl, her face was mostly hidden under a wrap of old red cloth.  Her long red hair did quite a bit to conceal as well.  She stayed behind her friend, looking anxious and keeping a wary eye on all the Dog crew.

Harry returned Bud's grin, then listened in.

"Well, that depends. I'm usually fine for most of the day, but my Chip shuts me down for a few hours every 24 hours or so. I don't get much of a say-so when that happens, so like as not I'll have to let my crew know to take over for me when I'm feelin' sleepy. Changeover shouldn't take much more than a couple minutes...we can pull off to the side and then catch up when the drivers switch." He says, then frowns. "I ain't sure that's the only problem, though. Did any of you folks have any sort of weird dreams last night? Or wake up with injuries you didn't have before?"

"Be more careful Crowboy."  Kelly told him calmly and with uncharacteristic gentleness.  "It's probably fine this time, but I've known more than one person who woke up in a cage beside me after accepting free food and drinks."

To the strangers she gave a cock-eyed look.  "Well now, I suppose you're off to as good of a start as any talking to me.  Not that I'm in charge of a damn thing on this rig, the only one who's really got a dedicated job is The Big Guy and he'll make the final decision.  But everyone else will make the final decision too, he won't even consider it unless everyone else is convinced first."

Well that and I'll have to lie to the demon machine inside his head so he doesn't just murder these two.  But she could do that discretely and they didn't know about that.  Kelly had a sense of loyalty and really didn't like spreading information about her companion's possible vulnerabilities, for her own sake if no one else's.

"I'll tell you up front this is a weird run, we're going for our own reasons and we ain't paying.  But, if you're just interested in a ride, it's not like we're charging either.  So let's start with who you are, what you do, and why you want to go there."

"Oh and try real hard to impress Dean-O over there.  He especially don't cotton to much bullshit, and he really don't like people that backstab him."  Kelly grimaced.  "I mean Jesus Dean, did you really have to do that thing to his toenails, it was just a few four-ten shells he stole from ya."

Turk's eyes narrowed at the seemingly out-of-nowhere question.  He looked to the other Drivers, who looked as equally suspiciously confused as Turk did.  Especially Patience, who seemed to have very little of her namesake for oddity.  Turk turned back to Harry, "Well...  I won't say I have had partikalarly pleasant dreams or comfortable nights sleepin' since them bombs fell.  But, last night didn't seem much different than another."  Again, Turk leveled such a suspicious look up at the big Cyborg, "Why?"

At The Black Dog

Dean simply watched the approaching Mateo with a deadpan look.  When Kelly tried to coax him into her testing game, the syker just folded his arms over his chest and remained stonily silent.  Which, I guess, is a sort of indicating a level of unimpressed-ness.

At The Black Dog

Mateo looked over to the silent, bald figure as Kelly indicated him....and finding no friendliness there, he returned his attention to Kelly.  At least she was speaking, so that seemed like a better avenue.  And the silent guy was...discomforting...

Mateo tried to puff himself up again, obviously trying to seem worth the effort, "I'm Mateo."  He cocked a thumb back over his shoulder to the girl behind him, "That's Syb."  He straightened his scavenged leather vest, tried to look proud, "We're good scouts...and watchers...  I can hunt and trap.  I'm good with my hands too, y'know?  I work hard.  Syb can cook really good.  Makes even crap taste like gold, y'know?  She works hard too. We can help however you need.  We're not askin' for a free ride, y'know?  We can work.  Help.  He paused, to think about how best to say it, "We just need to get West.  As close to old All-The-Car-Key as we can."

Syb spoke up quietly at that point, "Albuquerque."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:03, Sat 13 Mar 2021.