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zac
Junior Member

Posts: 57

Starfall Fan Fiction Apr 23, 2021 12:03:41 GMT -7

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Post by zac on Apr 23, 2021 12:03:41 GMT -7

Here is a bit of "fan fiction" from our last game...

Moses, thankfully, had few memories of his family. His mind had blessed him with the ability to see nothing but a void where the memories of that horrible day when the raiders came. When he searched his memories, he only remembered the blood and stench of death in the most remote of terms. What the gang of raiders did to his family was too horrific for his 12 year old mind to comprehend and it simply shut down that part of itself. Even the faces of his parents were but blurs to him now.
But something about the girl in front of him sparked a memory, long buried, long forgotten. Her dirty face and filthy ill-fitting clothes were not enough to hide her budding womanhood from the raider gang he had hitched up with for the last week. They had brought her in from a raid on the road to Lo and brought her to Stomp to decide what was to be her fate. Unless he had some buyer for her right away, she would likely be his plaything. At least until he tired of her, when she would be given to the rest of the guys.

This was not the first victim Moses had seen captured by the various groups he had run with in the last three years. While he had always avoided taking captives or taking his turn in the women that were given to them by the leaders, neither did he go out of his way to help them. Few were the moments when guilt and something bordering on conscience outweighed the necessity of survival. When they happened, he simply moved on. Usually he would soon find himself with another group who turned out to be no better than the last.

The only reason he did not become one of the many corpses these gangs leave behind (or worse) was that he proved himself a worthy amusement when he killed his would be captor as his family’s corpses lay burning behind him. The leader of that group, the Sand Vipers they called themselves, found the little 15 year old lad that stood up to the fully armored raider and shot him with his own pistol, a novelty.

Thus he was allowed to serve the leader and work his way eventually into a position of authority within the group.
Then the Sand Vipers crossed paths with the Gang of 70. The result, which Moses found ironic, were that the leader and many of those who fought left with their bones littering the desert floor. Again, Moses impressed one of the victorious group enough that he was allowed to petition for membership. But the group had strict rules for accepting new members and they were designed to keep their number to 70 for reasons not made clear to anyone outside of the 70.
While Moses had a lot going for him, he did not have the killer and bloodthirsty instinct that made a good gang member and he was not able pass the tests set before him to join. But unlike all others who had undertaken and failed the trials of membership, Moses had a different plan. Membership was not on his mind. His plan was for escape. Counting on that surprise and the fact that the group obviously still underestimated what the 16 year old was willing and able to endure, Moses got the opportunity he was looking for. The handler was careless for a moment, and that was all it took. Moses pulled the handler’s own Las pistol and killed 3 of the members before making good his escape into the desert area around the Burning Lands where most of them dared not tread. Moses learned that his resistance to the energy and sickness of the Burning lands was high and he knew his best chance of escape lay in going where they could not. And he carried with him a formidable sidearm now to deal with the creatures that were surely prevalent there.

For this he was a marked man and his bones would join his old gangs’ if he ever let them catch him again. The weapon he carried by his side was another reason. Nobody stole from a member of the Gang of 70. Nobody, that is, until Moses He had no illusions that his escape was due to any sort of skill on his own part. They were complacent. They grossly underestimated him. Such a thing would not happen again.
From that point on, Moses was constantly on the run. Moving from gang to gang, place to place. He used his small skill with the pistol and his ability to survive nearly anything to keep one step ahead of any of those looking for him. And it was fortunate that even though he tweaked their nose, Moses knew the Gang of 70 had bigger things to worry about. And that suited him just fine. Still, he would rather not put that to the test and so remained as far away from them as possible. And it had worked out just fine. Until now.

The day started out pretty much like any other day in the wastes. The gang moved in on a settlement. It was really no more than two or three families trying to eek out an existence in the barren wastes. But they had the two things the gang needed at the moment. It had a well, and it had a forge. Apparently at some point in the past there was someone who created and mended the tools and equipment the families used for the meager farming they did. Whoever had that talent was long gone from the looks of things. But that didn’t matter to Toompa, the gang’s leader. His fat pock-marked face grinned with the few teeth he had left when he saw the forge was still in usable shape.

Toompa was scum. The exact kind of scum that other scum would follow. Moses knew from the moment he laid eyes on the corpulent leader that his time with this gang was limited. Toompa’s cruelty was only matched by his greed. He held his position in the gang mostly due to his strength and his possession of the bits of metal he used to activate his prized toy. It was some sort of mechanical 2 wheeled device that used ancient tech to move. Toompa called it his Sike’al. Part of the booze that the gang made in their still back at the main camp went to powering this thing. And it was a thirsty beast. But it made a lot of noise and carried Toompa’s fat ass around fast and with abandon. It was his Iron Steed.

It was also temperamental and often needed mending as much tech that drew form anything the Ancients had did. The story goes that Toompa’s long time partner, Harl, kept the thing running for Tommpa. But one night the fat man’s drink got the better of him, something not at all uncommon, and he killed Harl with a shot from the Lo pistol he carried. One shot, right through the man’s face, blew out the whole back of his head. That was how Moses heard it when he first came to the gang.
So now when the beast broke down, Toompa was forced to walk like everyone else. Slaves pulled the wagon with the beast lashed to it. And it stayed that way until last week.

One of the raid groups brought in a man, more a boy actually but his muscled frame belied his youth. This man apparently was some sort of Tinker who hailed from Lo. Once Toompa found that out, he set upon a plan to take the boy and his beloved Sike’al and have the boy repair it. But first Toompa needed to find a forge. The gang had none in the camp. So the instructions went out to find a small settlement that had one.
During the next two days Moses watched the boy as he made friends in the slave pen. He would help comfort the weak, juggle stones to amuse the children, anything to take their minds off the horror they were in the middle of. Moses even spoke to the boy a few times. When he asked the boy for his name, it was Theo. Moses found himself liking the lad had that sneaking feeling began crawling up his neck into the back of his head. It was that feeling Moses got whenever he realized that his time with the newest group he had taken up with was near an end. Somehow Moses knew he was not going to be allowed to stay once they started mistreating the boy, as he knew they would.
The nagging itch grew into a roaring throb the next day. A group came in with some new slaves. Among them was a girl, could not have been more than 14. She was nearly a young woman by the harsh standards of the wastes, certainly enough so to bring her to the attention of the raider’s lusts. Something about her face, her eyes, caught his attention. Something stirred in his mind. Something long buried began to surface.

Memories long buried bubbled up and her face was overlaid with the screaming face of beautiful and innocent face of his older sister, as she was raped by the Sand Viper. The beast caught her trying to hide Moses despite what she saw happen to their parents. In his mind Moses could hear her screams as she begged the Sand Viper, “Please let him go, he is only 7! No please, not that, not in front of him, …”

Moses had to shake his head to clear the memories and see clearly again. Her face, so like his sister’s, was calm and resigned, not matching the painful contortions he remembered on a face so like hers. This girl’s eyes were calm when she looked at him. She held hatred there, but as she held his gaze, she looked all the world as if she was searching and had found something. The hatred seemed to subside. But the encounter left Moses more certain then ever that it was time.
An awareness of the situation at all times began to descend on Moses, just as it did whenever the time to leave began to come upon him.
The next day another group came into the camp with news that they had found a forge. Toompa was everywhere immediately getting a large group ready to move. Before nightfall they set out, most of the raiders accompanying Theo, Toompa, and the Sike’al on its wagon toward the farm house. Now here he was watching Toompa dance around with delight. His precious Sike’al had been repaired.

Moses did what he could to help the boy during the day but most of what the lad was doing was very foreign to him. At one point late in the afternoon, after hours of work on parts for the Sike’al, Theo looked at Moses and said “You don’t realize, the metal in this machine is weak. It is not what it once was. It is going to fail at some point and when it does, I do not want to be near it. With the juice he puts in this thing for fuel, it will go up hot and fast.”
Moses shook his head and just told the lad to keep going. “You can’t reason with the likes of Toompa. Just do your best and who knows, maybe the thing will take him with it when it goes.” The shared grin was all that was needed and Theo turned back to the forge.

Now it was night and the repairs had been made. Toompa made a speech about how they were going to rule the wastes again now. With that he straddled the iron beast and wiggled his metal bits. The thing roared to life and the leader’s face nearly broke his tooth-gapped smile was so wide. He twisted the things arms and it roared louder. The leader let go a laugh and then stood the Sike’al straight up and twisted the arm again. The beast leaped ahead and Toompa was ecstatic. He zoomed all over the little settlement back and forth.

On one pass Moses noticed flame actually shooting out of the back of the beast. He heard Theo off to the side yell something but it was quickly lost in an explosion of fire and metal, blood and bone. The beast had finally had enough of Toompa’s rough hand. When the fire died down, Toompa was not in a good way. His left leg was gone from the hip down, and he was badly burned. The gang members loaded him on the wagon that had brought the Sike’al along with what parts they could gather of the beast. Not knowing what else to do they also rounded up the farmer families and took them as slaves despite the promises Toompa had made them. Theo was roughly pushed into the slave group and it was obvious he was not going to survive the blame they were already laying on him for the incident.

When they got back to camp, the mood was somber. Toompa was taken to his shack; everyone seemed to assume he would die there. Hours later, the fat man still hung to life while his gang began to drink heavily around him. Something told Moses this was not the night to join them. He would need his head clear.
Sure enough, just after the moon rose to its full height, Trank, on of Toompa’s chief scouts came out of the building and staggered over to the slave pens. The guard on duty had not had much to drink yet and realized he needed to be looking elsewhere as Trank swung open the door to the pen. He stood there for a moment letting his bleary eyes adjust until he saw what he came for. The new girl, the pretty little thing that had caught everyone’s eye two days before, huddled among the other scared farmers. Theo tried to stand between the drunk and the girl but the guard came from no where and pointed his Lo Pistol at the boy, backing him away.
Moses never knew he had acted until he saw the body of Trank on the ground, his head nearly cut off from the slit in his throat from his own belt knife. As Moses looked down at him, the bloody knife still in his hand, the fog cleared and the plan that had begun to form took flight. Unfortunately the guard also shook off the shock of what he saw and had Moses square in the sites of his Lo Pistol and he pulled the trigger.

The guard fell prey to one of the most well known sayings of the Ancients; “You get what you pay for”. As the pistol flared to life, the smoke rose and the unpredictable powder purchased from a caravan that did NOT come from Lo, blew up in his face. Seemed to be a lot of that going on lately. Moses did not worry about whatever luck smiled on him that day, he simply acted, with the same automation that brought the life of Trank to his bloody end. Moses raised his hand and his Las Pistol was in it. The shot pierced the guard’s throat and left a much cleaner wound, if not just as deadly, than the Lo Pistol would have done.

Not fully understanding what he was doing or why, Moses reached down and grabbed the pistol and a gadget from Trank’s belt. Moses had seen the man use the gadget before. He tossed them both to Theo and said “The button in the center, it makes you…. Not seen”. Theo seemed to understand his cryptic statement and didn’t question. He just nodded.

“Cassrock is that way.” Moses said, pointing to the west. “Good luck to you. I hope we cross paths again one day. It will mean we both survived this.” And with a grin, Moses turned and grabbed the girl. “The rest of you better start moving. Some of you may even get away before they catch up!” he shouted to the rest of the slaves. Moses pulled the girl with him though not hard. She followed willingly.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked with that same calm I her voice.

Moses shook his head briefly and looked at Theo for a moment before he answered, “Lady, I haven’t the faintest Idea but since I am doing it, would you mind hurrying a little before the local druks figure out something is going on?”

Almost prophetically, as Moses lead the girl toward the edge of camp, several gangers came out of one of the buildings between Toompa’s shack and the Stillery shed. They had heard the gunshot and came to investigate. Drunk or no, it took them but a moment to realize what was happening. This was about to turn ugly fast.
Moses took careful aim with his Las pistol and pulled the trigger. The first of the gangers ducked thinking he was dead. But looked up with a smile and realized Moses had missed. He knew that the Las Pistol had limited shots and with luck, Moses was out. Since he was turning to run, he must be out of shots. The ganger stood up and turned to shout commands at those behind him. That was when he saw what Moses was really aiming at.

Fire belched out as the hole Moses shot in the still allowed the shine to leak out onto the fire. The ganger had just enough time to look away before the still blew.
Moses kept running and now the girl ran along side of him.

His mind turned to his path ahead. Where to go? He would head toward the Burning Lands as was his habit when ever he was running but knew he would not be able to use them as an escape route as he had in the past. The girl would not survive out there anymore than his captors. But for now he would head that way and hopefully mislead his pursuers into thinking he would stick to his normal mode of escape. Perhaps they would even give up before finding out he had not in fact continued on.
Whether that worked or not, he never saw any signs of pursuit and he cared little for the reasons. Likely those that survived the still blowing had other things on their mind. He took the girl as far south into the burning lands as he dared before turning west toward the mountains. Winter had begun to settle in and he knew the mountains would be deep in snow by the time he reached them. And while he had little problem in the snow, the girl would no more survive that than she would have the deeps of the Burning Lands. But he had little choice at this point. And hopefully the weather would also keep the gang at bay if they found the spot where he turned west.
The girl ran along side him, little showing the exhaustion she must be feeling by this time. No words passed between them and only a few times did he have to stop and help her up. When they finally stopped it was almost dawn night. They had been on the run for most of the last day. As they neared the Mountains and got further from the unnatural heat of the burning lands, the air took on the crisp feel of the early winter season. They cold see their breath and Moses knew the girl would not be able to go any further. He found a small outcropping of trees on the west side of the trade road to Lo. He left the girl with the blanket and food under a long needle tree with low hanging branches. He gave her his knife incase any small animals decided that it would be a good place to take cover for the night. Then he went out to scout around the area for fresh food.

“That is our law. To stay beyond the season, one must contribute Cargo to the town.” The old man in the funny clothes with odd pieces of metal hanging on it spoke in a low voice. Moses was speaking to one of the men who claimed to be on the council of Federex, a small community in the mountains. The merchant he spoke to on the road heading to Lo told him of it and he saw an opportunity to get the girl to a safe place, far enough away from the raiders that they would not look for her there. What he had not counted on was the price of admission.

He had never intended to stay here himself. Any place he stayed for too long was bound to become a target for the Gang of 70 or for any of the other gangs he had chasing him. He only wanted to find a place for Alicia to be safe. She gave him her name on the road to Federex. She also gave him something else that he had lacked for a long time; a memory. He owed her for that. And in a small way, he felt responsible for her after the gang he had been with took away her home and family. So he brought her here.

But they wanted tech that they called Cargo, in exchange for her remaining there once the winter snows had melted. All he had to offer was his knowledge of the Raider Gangs and his Las pistol. The first he gave freely and they said it would suffice to give her a year. If she proved herself an able contributor to the village, she might create a place for herself. But he didn’t want her to have to do that. The thought of her being forced to go back out where the raiders could find her again on her quest for Cargo, was unacceptable. Thus it was as he turned to leave, the place on his belt where the Las pistol had hung for three years was empty.

“Where will you go?” the old man asked.

Moses turned back to him and shrugged. “I belong out there. I will just find another way to fight.”

“You are welcome to remain here until the snows melt. Your gift will insure the young lady a place here as long as she obeys our laws. And I will see to it you are allowed a place until the thaw.”

Moses thought about that for a moment. A warm fire at night, a place to sleep without looking back over his shoulder. It was a powerful draw. It was something he never knew he missed until Alicia forced his memories out into the open. But he just shook his head.
“I have too many enemies, ugly enemies. They would find me here and you do not deserve that. I didn’t bring her all the way here just to endanger her new home.”
The old man seemed to understand and nodded as he said “Then allow me to give you something in exchange for your only defense. It is not much. And if you have never used one, it will require you to get used to it. But it is something.” He dug in one of the crates and pulled out a long black metal bar bent on one end and flattened on both ends to make almost a blade like feature. He handed this to Moses. “The ancients that brought our temple called this a Krober. It can be used for many things but will also serve as a passable weapon in need.”

Moses turned the heavy metal rod over in his hands. It would do a number on a skull if swung right. As the old man said, it was better than his bare hands. He thanked the
man and started again to leave. And once again the Man spoke to him.

“Moses. Where did you come by that name?”

Moses stopped long enough to say “My mother gave it to me. I can remember that now. Her favorite thing in the world was her copy of the book of Gideon.”
That seemed to suffice for the old man and he simply said “I wonder if she knew something about you even then? Do you know anything about your namesake?”

Moses shook his head. “Don’t remember that. And never learned to read.”

“He was a great man who lead his people to a promised land. I pray to the great Star that you find your way to your promised land.”

It had started snowing again when Moses exited the tubular temple entrance. His hand went to his only possession left from his early life. The small book in his pocket was worn and protected only by the old rag he kept it wrapped in. Occasionally he took it out and ran his fingers over the thin pages with writings on it he could not understand. For now he satisfied himself with just feeling its presence though his clothes. Maybe he would find someone to teach him to read one of these days. Until then,…. Moses tucked the Krober in his belt and began making his way back down the path through the snow.

zac
Junior Member

Posts: 57

Starfall Fan Fiction Apr 23, 2021 12:09:49 GMT -7

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Post by zac on Apr 23, 2021 12:09:49 GMT -7

Little more fan fiction form another player...

Life for the young Theodric was almost idyllic by the standards of the day. The young boy studied at his father’s shop where he learned the tinkering and smithing trades. Many a tool he helped his father repair and though the firearms occasionally brought in for repair contained parts far too complex and intricate for the boy to be of any assistance with, he raptly paid attention to the teachings and learned. By night his mother would teach him the art of reading and bookkeeping. One day Theodric would take over the family business and she would have him prepared for all aspects of it.

Owen Lars, his father, was a respected member of the community and his mother, Alanna was well liked by all who knew her. This was the only reason they were spared during the city wide persecution that ran through Lo in the days of his early childhood. Like any settlements, Lo was rife with small cults and belief systems and his parents belonged to one called the Brotherhood of the Stars. They believed that many great treasures were wrought by the ancients and their greatest was among the stars where the ancients often travelled. The Brotherhood believed that if they could atone for the few among the ancients who perverted their technology and brought about the fall, they could again reach the stars and the lives of all could be transformed by the special gifts that waited them there. The Brotherhood was a peaceful group and did not actively recruit. Despite this their numbers were growing and they were one of the larger of the cults in Lo.

Then came the night of the Burning Souls. Another group, the Anarchists, who had actively opposed anything to do with the Ancients, brought to light another cult that they claimed they had proof were performing forbidden rights up to and including human sacrifice. The evidence was flimsy and largely based on hearsay conveniently all originating from members of the Anarchists. But logic was overcome by drink and strong words. The Anarchists whipped a crowd into a frenzy one night at the Boar’s Pipe inn and they took to the streets to rid their town of this group of evil “priests.” They were soon joined by others as the stories made their way into the community and grew more wild and wicked with each retelling. In a panic born of fear and a bravery born of strong drink, the crowd smashed in the doors of homes of any who were known to be in any way connected to the cult. Even though the Brotherhood was a completely different group, their members were seen as collaborators and the Anarchists worked to include them in the purge.

It was only the reputation and character of Theodric’s parents that kept them from being killed like the others. But the leader of the anarchists, Drummond Kreel, argued loudly that they should be killed like the rest. A great debate came upon the crowd and many stood up for Owen and Alanna.
Whether it was Owen’s quiet steadfast defense that none ever had anything but aid from him and his wife, or the slow wearing off of the drink that had begun the night, none will likely know. But it was there, at the front steps to Theodric’s house, his father persuaded the crowd to look at the situation with clear hearts and minds. As the good folk of Lo turned and looked upon the devastation they had wrought to their own city in the name of religious persecution, they turned ugly again, though this time that anger was directed at the Anarchists and particularly at Drummond Kreel who had been the most vocal and thus the most responsible. The crowd fell upon Kreel as his arguments fell apart in the face of reason and by morning not one claiming the mark of the Anarchists were left in the town.

The next day, Owen, aided by the few remaining friends he had left, set about organizing the rebuilding of the damaged parts of town. For his efforts he was elected to the council of merchants that was an advisory body to the leadership of the town. But the damage was done and the Brotherhood never again met for their numbers were decimated.
The incident left Theodric with a hurt and confused spirit. Why would these people so easily turn against the very wonders of the ancients that promised them such hope? He knew that most of the people were good at heart and if they could only see clearly past their daily struggles, they would understand what the Brotherhood had believed and tried to do. He could see that the word needed to be actively spread and not just in Lo but in the towns beyond. A search for the ancient tech and a study of all things ancient was the key to a hopeful tomorrow.

So it was on his 16th birthday, he set out upon his journey to go out from the town, a pilgrim, a messenger, a seeker, to deliver the message and find the answers he needed to one day reach again for the stars. His parents were not pleased by his decision but nothing could persuade him from his path. Inwardly, though he feared for his son, Owen was proud at his stance and commitment.

But Theodric had not long to wait to find the underside of the human and mutant races again. For once he ventured forth from the safety of the town, he was set upon by bandits who were intent on taking everything they could extract from the young boy. Realizing he had little of value, they were determined to take the boy’s life in compensation. And Theodric’s journey surely would have ended that night on the road if it had not been for Fargo Thompson.
Fargo had lived a hard and rough life in the wilds around the towns. He was known as a traveler and a peddler to many as he would travel between towns trading wares and news from one town to the other. He was a small man, smaller even than Theodric. But that night he seemed 4 meters tall. Once his shadow fell upon the group beating poor Theodric, the bandits never stood a chance. So fast were his hands and feet, so complete was his surprise that half of their number lay on the ground either writhing in pain or completely still. When the others realized it was only a lone man that attacked them they gathered the courage to confront him. That was their last mistake. Wood and metal clubs and knives of every kind whipped at the man but he never was where the attacks landed. Swiftly and without weapon, the peddler laid waste to the remainder of the bandit gang until the few who finally saw reason fled into the night carrying with them those who were still moving on the ground.
Fargo allowed them to leave and then stooped to help the boy whom he had just saved. Theodric was not sure what he had witnessed as one of his eyes was already swollen shut from the beating the gang had given him. But he knew that he was safe for now.

It was not long before the incredible constitution of the Pure race Theodric claimed heritage from healed his body. And Fargo, glad for the company, allowed the boy to accompany him on his trading missions. From Fargo he learned to defend himself using many of the same techniques and tactics Fargo had employed on the gang. These techniques, known as JeeKune, were said to have come down from the ancients, originally devised by the ancient sage and martial master Broolee. Theodric also learned from the older man that the sanctity of life was something to be respected and his fighting prowess was not to be used but as a last resort. Killing was sometimes required, especially out in the wilds. But it was never something to be enjoyed lest the soul fall down the slippery slope and become the blackened spirit that inhabited the wild vicious gangs of the wastes.

Theodric traveled with the peddler for the rest of the season, learning to survive, learning the ways of his martial art, and learning the people of the settlements where they would stop. When they stopped, he would repair small tools if the settlement had even a crude forge for him to work by. If not, he often entertained the locals with his feats of juggling and sleight of hand. It was a magical several months for Theodric, but like all good things in the wastes, the end was in sight far sooner than he would have liked.

The air was cool as the Season of Leaves moved closer to the Winter Snows. The small fire they had built was not doing much to stave off the chill of the night. The older man had not spoken much that day. And in an uncharacteristic decision, did not hold the sparring practice that afternoon as he so strictly held the boy to since the teaching began. He sat huddled up in his furs near the fire and just looked into it. Something was wrong but Theodric could not get him to speak more than small,l one word answers. He tried to get his teacher to eat the porridge of meat and oats he had prepared with the supplies they had traded for from the last settlement but Fargo would only eat small bites before putting down the bowl.

It was well into dark when he finally spoke. “Theo, I think it be time fer you ta began thinking about where you will go without me.” He said with a quiet rattle to his voice.

“You are sending me away? Did I do something wrong?” was all the boy could think to ask.
His mentor chuckled slightly which brought on a coughing fit. When he settled down he looked at the boy and said “No, you done made these last months enjoyable rather than just tolerable….” With that he looked away, back at the fire but beyond it somehow. “It aint what I want that matters much though. It aint that I would not share me trail with ye more, but I have come to an understandin that me trail is notmuch longer. Fact is, the way I feel, this fine little clearin may be the end of it.” He continued.
Theodric just sat stunned at this announcement, not knowing what to say. In the awkward silence the peddler continued, “Last winter I stayed with a friend up near Cassrock. He is a physician of sorts. I told him of the problems I had been having with my guts. It would hurt for days on end, then end in a bout of spitting up blood. Then I would be fine for a time but it would return.” The explanation came to a brief halt as he coughed again and this time Theodric could see a little blood in his beard at the corner of his mouth.”He told me I had a wasting disease he read about in one of the books about the ancients. They had finally found a cure for it but that was long lost with the fall. It’s this disease where my own blood is eating me up from inside.” He paused again, shaking his head as if he was trying to convince himself again.
“He gave me somthin that he said should ease the pain for a while but he warned me then that ventually it wouldn’t do much good. He doubted I would live through the winter. But I fooled him. Nobody can claim ole Fargo is a weakling kitten to be mewing at his mother’s teat at the first sign of trouble.”
He leaned down and pulled a bottle out of his sack that Theodric had seen him sip from in the past. Theodric had always just assumed it was some strong drink. But now its purpose became clear as his mentor pulled a long draw from the nearly empty container. It was more than he had ever seen the man drink of it before. Another round of coughing ensued before the man could talk again.

“Well the pain has been back now for a while and this time the medicine ain’t doin a thing but givin me a bad taste in my mouth. Likely the illness has eaten up too much of me guts fer the stuff to help. And much as I want to go on, the doc told me once the lixer stopped workin, it was only gonna be pain and misery from here on out. Its why I wanted to come here.”

And with that the man struggled to rise. Theodric rushed to his side to help him up, horrified by the revelations the man had just given but curious of his intentions. Once up, the old peddler moved over to a large rock outcropping and turned to the north. As he did so a cold blast of wind nearly toppled him over. But he began to walk into the wind, struggling all the way.

Within a few steps they came to a large evergreen whose branches stuck out several meters on all sides, its lowest bows brushing the ground. “Help me get inside here” he said to Theodric and with little effort, the boy helped the old man into the shelter of the branches.

Once inside Theodric saw what looked like a small carved rock at one end of a very slight mound. “There was only one other person that put up with me the way you have.” The peddler said once they were inside the protective branches. “I guess you could say she was me wife though no preacher man ever said no words or nothin. She was a true a wife as any a man ever had.” His voice was whisper as he spoke now. “She died tryin ta birth our child, right here.”
It all became clear to Theodric now. The peddler had come here to die. Desperate for his friend and mentor, Theodric pleaded “But Cassrock is only a few more days up the road. Let me run and get your doctor friend. Maybe there is something he can do for you!”

The older man turned on the boy and looked at him with sad eyes that the boy now saw were filled with glistening moisture. “Didn’t ye hear what I said? The lixer ain’t doin nothing anymore. He told me this was goin ta happen. There ain;t nothing else he or anyone else can do. He gave me one last pill ta take when the end came. He said it would take away all the pain for good but it would be the end.”

The boy’s eyes widened at this. “You are giving up?”

The peddler’s eyes grew sharp again as he looked straight into the boy’s gaze. For a moment the same flame that Theodric saw the night they met was there. “I ain’t ever give up. But some things are just gonna happen no matter how much ye fight.” His face softened again as he continued. “I was on my way here months ago when I came cross those punks beaten the snot out of you. Travellin with you and teachin you has been more fun than the pain was bad so I held out longer. But there be only so much I kin do. The only thing left fer me is pain and misery. Nothin else. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t even take a crap no more. You want me to keep on like this just so’s you kin…” and with that he began coughing again and this time there was no mistaking the blood that stained his rough beard.

As Theodric helped the man to the ground to lean up against the trunk of the tree, he finally understood. Tears were in his own eyes as the man he had come to look on as his second father sat before him slowly withering away. The sacrifice this man had made for him now apparent, Theodric could not come up with the words. Finally he just said ,“What do you want me to do?”

Fargo sat with his head back against the tree, his eyes closed for a time, then just said, “I already said any of the byes I needed to. Cept fer this one. Go back to the fire and though I aint never done nothing ta make such a one as a god take notice of me, if ye believe in such things, pray to em fer me. On the first light, come back and lay me next to Sarah.”

Determined not to cry, Theodric struggled to his feet and started back to the fire. He paused only when the weak voice spoke one last time.
“Yer a good man, Theodric. Remember me and if I taught ye anythin worth learnin, remember what ye do to others is all that matters in this world. Not sure what else we got, but our tegrity is the one thing nobody kin take from us. My son died here 12 years ago with me wife. You gave him back to me fer a season. And fer that I thank ye.”
Theodric could only nod, then leave. He knew if he looked back he would never be able to have the strength he needed. He spent the night trying to remember what his mother had taught him of the great God of the Ancients that the prophet Gideon wrote about. He looked up at the stars and watched the night pass wondering if that God realized that some had survived the fall an if He still cared.

As the first rays of light came over the horizon, Theodric went back to the tree and found his friend dead, a small package in his hand unwrapped with instructions to take whatever was in the packet and swallow as much as he could. There was a white powder around the man’s mouth along with a foaming white liquid.
It was well into the afternoon then he finished burying the man next to the grave of his wife. And though he knew travelling in the dark was not wise, he could not bear to remain there another night.

Theodric looked at the other slaves in the pen. The gang that were now his captors took at least passing care of them, likely in order to get better profit from them. He knew of no place in the area that dealt with slaves so likely they were destined for a long trek to another area. Theodric was sure he would not have survived the first struggle had it not been for his tinker’s tools coming to the notice of one of the men. The man stopped the fight and looked him in the eyes and said “You can’t win this, they are going to take you. I think you may have some value to Toompa, the leader. If you come peacefully, you may survive this.”
The man looked at once to be young, only a few years older than Theodric, but at the same time to be many years older. The wrinkles around his face belied his youth and told of a rough life in the wastes. But the man spoke calmly and with intelligence that none of the other gang members seemed to possess. So Theodric went quietly. And now he was in this slave pen waiting to hear word of his fate.

It did not take long. The man who lead the capture party returned with a large corpulent man Theo had to assume was this Toompa fellow.

The fat man shouted to him “You a tinker?”

Theodric simply stood and said “I have some training with the tools. You need something repaired?”

The leader just grunted and turned away. The other man stayed as Toompa strode off issuing orders to others.
“He has a task for you that may not only help you live but may get you a prized place in the gang if you succeed.” The man looked to have skin made of leather for all his toughness. And the leather coat he wore covered most of him. But Theodric still caught a glimpse of a high tech pistol by his side and he understood why this man had standing in this bunch of ruffians.”

“Why do you work for him?” Theodric asked. This startled the man who turned to look at him, clearly not expecting THAT question.
The man just looked at him for a moment then through him for a few seconds before refocusing back on his face. “It’s a good thing for you that I do, or you would never have made it this far.” Then his face softened a bit if his chiseled face could ever really soften. “What is your name, tinker?”
Theodric hesitated for a moment but the man’s unassuming face put him at ease. “Theodric, but my friends sometimes call me Theo. And you?”
The man didn’t hesitate, “Moses. And to date I have no friends so I have no idea what they would call me.” With that he grinned and continued “I guess you are wondering what this is all about?”

Theodric had to admit his curiosity “I assume he needs something made or repaired?”
“Oh more than just something. From what I have seen around these wastes, you are about to get your hands on the largest pieces of ancient tech in the area. And if you prove able to repair it, you will be set for life.” The man looked around the camp with its wooden buildings and tents and added “Such as life is here anyway.” With that, a quick shrug, and a small laugh the man called Moses turned to go.
Theodric called out to his back, “What if I can’t fix whatever this is?” Moses stopped long enough to turn and look at him and shrug again, then continued walking back to the barracks shack”

The next day a raiding party brought in another couple of slaves. Among them was a pretty young girl, only a few years younger than Theodric. Her name was Tatiana and she was scared. Theodric did his best as he had with the other prisoners to calm them and keep their spirits up. But he knew it was only a matter of time before a pretty girl such as Tatiana caught the attention of one of their captors if it hadn’t happened already. He knew he would have to stop it and sadly realized it would likely mean his life, but there was little else he could do. He would not have a life worth living if he stood by and did nothing.
The next day there was much commotion in the camp and Moses came to him and told him that a settlement with a forge had been found and that Theo would be taken to it to repair something Moses called a Sy’kil.

The next morning they set off for the settlement. Theodric saw Moses among the guards and somehow that gave him comfort. Moses had, several times, snuck extra food and water to the prisoners and Theodric felt if it came down to it, Moses was to be trusted.

On the route, which lasted most of the day, Theodric got a look at the thing he was supposed to repair. It was a vehicle of some kind, designed to move on two wheels, one behind the other. There was a seat over top of what must have been the contraption’s heart, a mass of metal objects that Theodric could only guess at the uses for. He remembered lectures his father gave on an ancient device called an Internal Combo-station motor or something like that. It held confined explosions to make things turn, a lot like a water wheel he imagined. He worried that this was beyond his ability to repair but part of his mind relished the thought of getting his hands on such an incredible tech.

It had been several days. Theodric had taken a few things apart on the Sy’kil and figured out about half of what the pieces did. Apparently the coupling between the gear that caused the vehicle to move forward and the control that released the gear was broken. He was not sure if this was all that was broken but he saw at least that and made a replacement part to fix it. Moses had come in to help him many times. It was obvious the big man did not have the skill with the tech nor the understanding of it to be of much assistance more than just an extra pair of hands to hold things. But his companionship was welcome just the same.

Theodric began to see something else that troubled him. The chambers that he believed held the explosions caused him concern. Apparently the gang leader had been using the unique brand of shine that they distilled as fuel. He had seen how flammable the stuff was and was pretty sure that the motor was not made for such crude and unrefined fuel. It was taking its toll on the metal. The pieces all seemed to be intact but he recognized the signs of metal fatigue. It was only a matter of time before one of those chambers ruptured. And depending on where they ruptured, if the explosion happened to near the housing for the fuel which sat right above it and in front of the seat, it could fail catastrophically. He tried to warn Moses of this but he just grinned and said “Now wouldn’t that be a sight to see?” He did not fully understand how dangerous this was and Theodric was sure his skills were not up to creating such a piece of machinery that had such close tolerances. So Theodric did what he could and prayed to the Ancients that it was enough.

What a disaster. It was two days since the completion of the repairs. Theodric’s repairs worked perfectly. But as he tried to warn them, the chambers were too weak to take the abuse the leader pushed them to hauling his large frame at high speed. One of the chambers must have given way and the entire contraption exploded, maiming the leader and nearly killing him. Now they were back in camp and the tone was somber. None looked at him with any thought in their eyes save one…Death. Moses came by to tell him to be ready for something. He had no idea what but a lot was going to change as it seemed nothing was going to stop the leader from dying at this point.
It was a dark night with no moon and the air was cold. The Season of Leaves was gone and the Winter Snows were beginning to fall in the Mountains. It would only be a matter of time until they covered the lowlands too. Several men were working in the large building where the distilling process occurred and there were a few other guards standing guard on the big wooden building they took the Toompa too. But other than that it had been quiet.
Until now.

One of the higher ranking leaders came out of the building that held Toompa. He had obviously partaken of the shine and was not moving too steady. He came straight for the
slave corral and motioned the guard there aside. He heaved open the gate and made straight for Tatiana. As Theo had feared, she was hard to forget. Theodric braced for what he was sure was going to be a fight. He allowed his mind to clear then focus and everything slowed down as it had when Fargo had taught him. His lessons were crisp now and he was prepared to sell his life dearly.

But it was not required. Theodric never saw him move but somehow Moses had come up from behind the boss and using the boss’ own knife, sliced a crevice in the large man’s neck. He went down in a heap and Theodric saw Moses standing there, bloody knife in hand. The guard stunned by the suddenness of what just happened raised his pistol at Moses and pulled the trigger, but the gun was ill maintained and obviously did not have Lo powder. The combination of the fragile ill kept weapon over loaded with powder to compensate for its inefficient burn rate caused the gun to explode in his hands. The guard’s face was peppered with the bits and pieces of the barrel of the weapon and he went down.

Moses had already gone down to one knee and pulled several things from the belt of the boss he had so brutally murdered. He tossed a device to Theodric and simply said “The button in the center … makes you….not seen.” Theodric nodded without fully comprehending but there was no time for talk. Moses unlocked the shackles on the slaves and grabbed Tatiana. She followed him without question. He looked at the others and told them to scatter. Then he turned back to Theodric and pointed west and said “Cassrock is that way. With luck I will meet you there one day. Be careful!” And with that he bolted out of the pen with Tatiana in tow.
Theodric put the device on his belt and began to move away from the light of the camp. His path took him toward the provisions shed where the food was kept. He figured he would need some to survive to Cassrock. There was a guard there who was now watching everywhere intently trying to figure out what the explosion he heard was. Theodric could hear others coming out of the main building as well. Moses had stirred up the hornet’s nest. Praying to the ancients for their tech, Theodric hit the button. There was a slight buzzing in his head for a moment but that was the only indication that the device was working. He slowly stepped out toward the guard but the guard didn’t look his way. The device must be working.

Theodric was just about to give up on getting food when a tremendous explosion occurred over near the distillery barn. That was enough for the guard as he went running, leaving the shed unguarded. Theodric quickly grabbed some food and a water skin and bolted for the outskirts of the camp.
Theodric had no idea how the device worked but it was obvious he had kept it on too long. With a sizzle and a popping sound, the device started sparking and smoking telling Theodric the effect was no longer up. He discarded the device as quickly as could lest it blow up while on him. But it did not happen. It just lay there in the sand smoking. Shrugging to himself, Theo set his path toward Cassrock and began walking.