Surveying the road the Scribe adjusted their pack trying to make the weigh sit better on their shoulders. It was ridiculous in the first place for them to be wearing it glancing over at the Initiate he curled his lip in disgust. The little remnant was a mass of straps and packs, noticing the Pureblood scowl at them, they straightened their back and attempted to stop their ragged breathing. Scoffing at the pitiful sight He shuffled his pack again. It was disgusting that he had to carry his own pack let alone suffer the presence of a Remnant but the Brotherhood insisted even it’s full members bore a physical burden to remind them of the burden of their mission. He glanced at the Senior Scribe who was orientating a map of the area.
The camp was small and unbefitting of him. Road dirt and grime covered everything. They couldn’t arrive soon enough first stop would be at whatever miserable place they served drinks, the Stonegreen Tavern the reports had said. Then they could being their task in earnest. Looking back at the Senior Scribe his look of disgust returned. The personal servant of the Scribe was whispering to his benefactor, and the Scribe was nodding as though actually listening to what the servant had to say. He would be happy when he could return to the Lost Isles, somewhere he didn’t have to share a camp with the lesser Strains.
The Iron ran as fast as he can through the tunnel. Hearing the screams behind him only fuels him to run faster. They’ve been underground for two months now. They ran out of food and supplies. Ever since the cave-in, things went from bad to worse. First the Jones that the Pureblood brought was crushed by the rocks, the Pureblood got his face eaten by some creature, and now whatever that thing is, it’s been hunting them one by one. The Iron figured with was some Digger or Hunter getting them, but this was too smart for it. A Lasky maybe he first thought, except for the fact it also ate one of their own lascarians miners. It was something else…. Something deadlier. This was the Irons last thoughts as the sharp claws of this creature plunges through his back.
The Pureblood opens his Leopard Print newspaper. He so does enjoy reading the latest gossip and news from the so-called City of Gold El Dorado. “Hmm… It seems the town just completed their election..”
“Your informant in town is going to get caught one of these days. Let me guess… the Vegasian won again..” A female Pureblood walks in holding a cold drink in her hand, joining the other. “Why did we ever agree to let them have their town back? We had a strong grip on it. And they all seem to trust Vegasians very easily.”He replied, “It was too much of a headache. Besides, all the pieces are falling into place. It’s only a matter of time. They’re not the ones we should be worrying right now. We have other problems to attend to.”
“Indeed.” A soldier enters the room saying this. His eyes examine the room of the two Purebloods. He doesn’t like being in this room, but he did have orders to meet with them. He nods at the man and adjusts the red arm band on his right arm. “Shall we begin?”
A Rover group treks though the vast bog of Low Town. They stop, in front of them is dense fog coated in radiation. "This won't do. We'll have to find another way around,” one of them says.
A figure slowly emerges from the fog. He wears an olive trench coat with an unmistakeable red star sown on the shoulders, his face is obscured by a mask. He walks closer to the Rovers. They raise their weapons.
He removed his mask. "Are you of the Nuclear Family?"
They shake their heads, weapons still raised.
"Then I have no business with you." He puts his mask back on and disappears into the fog.
__________Two of Coster’s militia fill their drinking containers with water at the Stone Green tavern. “So did you hear about the election? Guess who’s the mayor again?”
“That’s not a surprise.”
The first raises his brow. “Oh? Sounds like you’ve got more to say.”
“It’s nothing really. People value safety over change is all.” he says as he motions to the doorway.
“Oh well, democracy in action I guess. Lets return to our patrol.”
"You're out of your ever lovin' mind Zeke. How many times I told you to stay off da hooch? All you had to do was stay sober until dem Hellions wiped out dem zed from dat Drive Thru!"
"Yeah, that's what I am trying to tell you, my dear uneducated fellow. The only libations I've had were when the unsufferable undead were pushed out of the town proper. I had a flask already assigned to the task!"
"But more to the point, it was what was going on before the Hellions arrived in the town that is of the greater interest! You see, there seemed to be a scuffle of immense proportions going on near the river's edge, between a group of heavily armored militia from the looks of it, and a group of savages festooned with brightly colored furs of all colors! The savages had cleared out a huge number of the zed, and then hid and lay in wait to ambush the heavies. It was a fight to behold!"
"Wait one minute der, Zeke. You done tell me that there were folks that duking it out in the midst of the Drive Thru?"
"The battle was, unfortunately, quickly obscured from my view, my good man. No sooner had the fight engaged that every other zed deeper in the town start pouring out. The two lumbering hulks kicked up such a dust storm, that I could not ascertain what the outcome was!"
"Like I said, Zeke, stay off the damn hooch. Now make yourself useful, and dig that hole right der. We got some plantin' to do."