Douglas responds with a thoughtful nod & a noncommittal shrug.  "Shucks, if nobody else wants to keep it, I won't make a fuss over it none." 


  "Sounds fine to me.  'Round these parts, though, I doubt they've even heard ov' the Caloraado Baronies, much less seen proper money from there."



  Douglas looks surprised for a moment, then gets his big friendly grin back.  "I almost forgot.  I don't suppose the CS would even want ya reading, much less teachin' ya how.  It says there's a checkpoint up ahead couple miles.  FEDMAG, whatever that is.  'All vehicles must stop.  All occupants must show ID.'  I don't suppose anyone here has any local ID, do they?  I wonder, do you think my ID from Charity will be enough for them?"  he asks of everyone & no one in particular.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:59, Thu 18 Nov 2021.

"Federation of Magic."

The Mountaineer drew up behind a row of other vehicles. A hillbilly armored heavy truck stacked with crates and guarded by a dozen armed and armored individuals riding shotgun was immediately ahead the ATV. In front of the truck was a group of around twenty people on motorcycles looking all the more like knights or some fashion. Ahead of the bikers was an armored magnetic lift vehicle that had several odd bits bolted on; a techno-wizardry vehicle.

A group of black clad soldiers were surrounding the TK maglev truck. One was speaking with the driver while another seemed to be checking the vehicle out. Ahead of the TK truck was a road block made up of time worn sandbags and a small outpost. There were what looked like a pair of APCs of some fashion tucked into the swamp along either side of the road behind the road block and another dozen soldiers manned the position.

When the Mountaineer rolled up the radio came to life on the local citizen's band, a woman spoke with obvious boredom, "Mountaineer, this is checkpoint A-six-six-four control. Please shut down and prepare to receive an inspection and tarrif evaluation team."

"Well that sounds ominous."

Despite the comment Hawkins shut off the ATV's power plant and responded to the radio call.

#"Will comply A664 Control. Any rules we should be aware of? This is our first visit."#

 "Last time I checked, a Dog Boy who can read is cause for their extermination, followed by an enhanced assessment of their genetic line, with the possibility of culling." Killian answers without any real heat, taking the information about the sign on-board and wincing "It sounds like I ought to get out and slip around the..."

 "...we're here, aren't we?"

The whole battle, Nutball had dangled from the grips of his swords, kicking at any of the spider creatures when they tried to board, sending them crashing to the ground before they could get purchase.  He may not have injured any of them, but he had kicked away more than had gotten past him.
Afterwards, he took the time to pull his vibroblades free from the skin of the mountaineer, then went to clean himself up.  He may not have actually injured any of the creatures, but his companions had.  And his armor had been slickened with ichor.  Strangely, he seemed not to talking to his "brother and sister."
When the juicer did his watch, Nutball joined, seeming to be interested in a quiet conversation.  Otherwise, he had sat quiet and reserved, something no one had seen out of him.  For more than a minute or two, anyway.
Almost to Huntsville, he seems to perk up  a bit.  Still, he seems a bit reserved and quieter than usual.  At the notice of the FedMag sign, and its requirement for ID, Nutball reaches into a belt pouch to retrieve a small, laminated card
  Hopefully, it will do....

As the requirements were read out Jen frowned.

Hmmm, hopefully they are fairly welcoming.  I mean I do have ID for the place where I grew up and such, like a license to drive.  Though I think we might all be in the same boat really, this might make a dent in our finances depending on how honest these people are.

There was apprehension in her voice.

The call came back immediately, "Crew of the Mountaineer you should be prepared to be inspected. All mercantile goods will be assessed with a tariff. Should no goods be found you are still required to give forth your names, destination, and intent. A short term permit for weapons and armor can be issued for two hundred per person."

A crew of six uniformed and armed people began advancing towards the Mountaineer.

Something tells me we're gonna be working a debt off, Nutball muses.

  "Say, I've heard of them folks!  Weren't they in a war with the CS?  I didn't think they were in the swamp territories though." 


  Douglas gave Killian his best attempt at a reassuring look. "Don't worry, friend.  As long as you don't have those CS skulls all over you, I doubt they'll have a problem with you.  Right fellas?" 
  Following Nutball's example, he pulled out his own little ID card from Charity.
(OOC:  did we keep the claw or not?  I don't mind either way, just curious.)

"Understood A664 Control. Will comply."

He switched off the mic.

"Listen up everybody. I know our situation is weird but we need to stick to the same story to avoid trouble."

"When they ask we're Free Company Mercs heading west looking for work. Stopping here for repairs and resupply. Mostly the truth so it shouldn't arouse suspicion."

"In fact if we can register here it will help us in the long run."

Given our situation I think that's a fairly accurate description of what we are really.  There is plenty in the kitty to cover two hundred a head for permits I would say, and I don't think we have anything that could be said to be goods. A thought crossed her mind and she gave a little smile towards Nutball, And I don't think your friends will need to be counted either, after all they're not armed or armoured from what you've said.

Settling in her seat Jen made sure to tuck her tail away, best not draw much attention in that direction, as without it showing she did look very human after all.

 For a moment, Killian looks down at himself - clad as he is in the patched and scorched BDU's of a CS Dog Boy, over which is worn the remains of his DP0 armour, complete with helmet and infantry patches (which include, unsurprisingly field experience, marksman and PSI insignia), with a C-20 pistol on his hip, a C-12 slung across his lap and a selection of CS-model pieces of infantry equipment and webbing worn with them - and then looks back up at Douglas before deadpanning, "I'm sure it'll be fine."

  Douglas gave a quick nod to show he understood & approved, then double checked all of his weapons had their safeties on.


  Douglas glanced at Killian with a smile, looked outside, then did a double take back to Killian, his eyes wide & his jaw slack.  He had completely forgotten that CS uniforms looked different between humans & DogBoys.  He was at a complete loss for words, & looked every bit the embarrassed idiot who just realized they had just said something very stupid.  "Uhhhhmmm..."  was all he could manage.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:23, Sun 21 Nov 2021.

There was pounding at the ground level access and a loud shout of, "Hey, open up. It's the inspection team. Hurry up, please, our lunch just got here."

"Renegade Dog Boys aren't that rare in our world. Hopefully they aren't here either."

Removing his helmet Hawkins made his way through the ATV and opened the ramp to allow the Inspection Team to board.

"Howdy fellas. Last thing I want to do is keep you from your lunch."

While not hindering any inspection process Theresa is also not particularly responsive to this interruption as anything different than the banter she has been meditating through for the last few hours of their trip.  Seated in the back of the vehicle however it is unlikely that she will be in the way even if they decide to care.

Forcing herself to relax Jen sat an waited for the team to do their inspection, with ID in hand she turns a bright friendly smile on the people that enter, a slight tilt to her head and lifting a hand in a little wave.

Hi, what do you need from us to get this done smoothly so you get your lunch?

 Killian makes a point of ejecting the E-clip from his rifle and stowing it in his webbing before racking the weapon, minimising the threat profile he represents and then sitting back (awkwardly) in the mis-shaped seat with his tail squished uncomfortably between him and the back of it, both hands out on the back of the seat in front of him where they can't be immediately construed to be reaching for anything.

Nutball places his heavier weapon on his bunk, magazines out and capacitors drained and chambers empty.  He keeps only his sidearm and his blades on him, the holster strap snapped in place, and blades peace-tied.  He stands next to his bunk, his helmet resting at the foot the cloth mask covering his face displaying the comedy mask at the front.  His old Kingsdale ID is held in his hand.

  After recovering, Douglas was surprised & impressed with everyone's reactions, so he decided to follow their examples.  He laid his larger weapons out, eclips out, then sat quietly, his smile just as big as ever.  Princess sat next to him, enjoying the extra attention, as he scratched behind her ears.  In truth, this served 3 purposes.  True, she did enjoy it, but it also helped keep her calm, & it kept his hand on her & very close to her harness, in case he needed to restrain her quickly.  Doing his best to look as cooperative as possible, he simply smiled super  friendly like, adding "Howdy folks!  How can we help?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:38, Tue 23 Nov 2021.

A board troop in an odd camouflaged uniform and what was obviously a techno wizardry rifle looked up a him and gave a sort of quirky smile, "Hey there, yourself. Say, I don't suppose you could open for a quick inspection could you. It sure would make this faster than the usual half hour of silly questions and haggling."

The other troops seemed equally bored. And as the man had said moments before, it was lunch time.

The man who had spoken entered the Mountaineer and did a quick look through the vehicle.

"Crowded. You fellas must be one close crew." He said as he stepped among them searching for contraband, taxable goods, or an opportunity. He looked at Killian. "Whoa! Dog boy! You guys really brought..and, damn, a Kill kittie. You people seem well, uhm, with a crazy man, a juicer, two former CS hunter-killers, that freaky chick in the back, and a cyborg. You already sold out I see, so you can afford the permits. Let's see, six of you comes to twelve hundred FedMag script. Through in three hundred more for my Christmas Fund and I'll mark those permits 'without restrictions' so you go anywhere and buy anything in town."

He looked at the state their armor and whistled to himself. He took in the state of the Mountaineer and shrugged. Then turning to Killian he added, "I was with the Coalition myself. Part a special operations unit. Worked alongside you doggos often. Good lot, most of them. Nice to meet you. Too bad about what the Coalition did to your kind after their loss in Lone Star."

Jen blinked at the blithering man with considerable confusion on her face.

Hawkins produced the agreed upon sum from his pack along with an extra hundred which he held up so the inspector could see it.

"Mind if I ask a couple of questions?"

Assuming he says yes (to save time, otherwise ignore this part):

"Does Coalition coin spend here?"

and

"Is there a process for registering a Merc Company here?"