Death Stories for those who stayed behind - Riley Trent

She wouldn’t budge, not even an inch.

“But I want my momma!” cried the young child, easily loud enough to be heard by local raiders that were willing to eat her, despite her not understanding the concept. Even sleeping raiders might wake for this one.

“Then let’s go meet with them,” they said quietly, trying to calm the child, “they should be waiting for you with everyone else.”

It was a small lie, but one they felt justified in telling. Riley Trent was cautiously optimistic that such a lie might both quiet the child and get them to safety. The truth, which they had already seen firsthand, was that the child’s parents had been smart enough to hide their young daughter while the raiders swept through the small farming village. How she hadn’t woken up at the stir, or been taken already, was a small miracle.

Riley had heard of the raider threat, and had fully intended to make their way out of Steel Horse quickly. It was the families she heard of that were either trapped or likely to be overrun that they felt a need to check on. These families, recipients of the post and generally a likeable lot, had grown on Riley over their time in town. They had been one of very few post runners to reside in town and, by virtue of that, they had also gotten to know many of the town’s outlying families at least at face value. Their own faith drove them to make sure that either the outliers had been overrun or could be, at least in part, saved.

“Are you sure?” the small child asked in a much smaller voice. She hadn’t been entirely reassured, but the words were at least correct enough to staunch the flow of tears in order to speak instead of scream.

The pang of guilt grazed their conscience as they almost frowned, but quickly held their face in check. “Of course, that’s where everyone is going. Everything is very messy right now, and people are missing others they love, but we’re all going to meet up just over there.”

They hadn’t remembered the small child specifically, but could pin the likeness on her parents easily enough. Riley would have put a wager on this particular child being Philip and Erina’s girl, who they had mentioned in passing but hadn’t shown her off to date. They were kind people, willing to help their neighbors and the town alike. They were Sainthood as well, which didn’t hurt knowing that Riley would be helping their own.

The girl snuffled into the long sleeve of the dressing gown, clearly handed down to her and a bit larger than a proper fit. Riley took a quick assessment, and reached their hand out offering it to her. The child took the offer, and without too much urging, the pair was on the way to meet others heading out of town.

“I’m Riley,” they said cautiously, barely loud enough to be heard, “and I deliver the post to your mom and dad. We have to be very quiet while we run, okay?”

The mention of the post, and both her parents, seemed to take the child’s mind off the jaunt through the darkness. Riley’s light made a small dent in the blackness of the path, while the moon was clear overhead and gave a bit more help where it could.

The young girl, now keeping up with some effort, breathed out, “Hi Riley, I’m Annabelle. Momma calls me Belle.”

For some reason, the notion of this explanation made Riley crack a wry smile. In the middle of the woods, avoiding certain death, a small child found it important to reveal not only her name, but seemingly her favored moniker. Only children could have this innocence, and the sudden realization that coming back for her was both fortuitous and almost fateful. A flash of a younger girl streaked across their mind, someone important. Someone from their past, long ago, that they couldn’t quite reach. They were almost at the edge of the light where one of the caravans was held up waiting for the last few survivors to catch up.

“Sister?” they found themselves whispering, as their mind raced to find purchase on the face or the thought itself. The fleeting moment seemed to be sprinting away when Riley’s foot gave out from under them.

“Go Belle! That way,” Riley pointed toward the light as they tried to pull themselves upright.

The small girl looked back, her eyes growing to what seemed to be twice their size, as she let out a shriek only a child could make. She turned and ran as quick as her legs could carry her, as her guide thus far had almost made it to her feet. Riley turned their head over their shoulder, not expecting to stop given Belle’s reaction, but was hit in the throat and felt their windpipe collapse. Their feet, ready to move forward, seemed not to react. Something was wrong.

Taking another moment, a required moment, to check their right leg, it was clear someone had cut straight through the heel. While Riley hadn’t felt it at the time – I swear, that face – it hurt like hell now. The scream, trapped in their throat when the small band of raiders emerged from the trees, felt like it had claws, ripping away at where the air should have been escaping at that moment. The last thing they remembered was a pair of shields emerging at the edge of the light, a pair of bodies. Bartok was there, and Belle would be safe. Everything went a painful black soon afterward.

Exodus from Steel Horse Crossing - The Diesel Jocks

The constant crack of gunfire ripping through rounds at a furious rate was the first sound that was made in the ensuing fight.    The whine of a motor coughing out the power to spin the cylinder emptying those rounds wasn’t far behind, but other guns had picked up where the first left off.  The tense calm that existed only moments before was shattered, and every last person that knew what those sounds brought with them leapt into action.

“Raiders, north side!  Prepare the spikes, man the guns!”

The voice called out, faceless in the dark, but the call echoed down the line of the massive compound.  The Diesel Jock clan within the walls didn’t hesitate, as each of them took up their post and began their assigned tasks.  More voices began to mark calls to some order or another, and eventually the air was thick with screams.  Screams of orders, screams of battle, and screams of death.

“Lights,” grumbled an older man from relative darkness.

It was all that needed to be said, and suddenly the compound was lit up like the sun was sitting just above the compound, its brilliant light shining outward.  The man issuing the order stood up, shifted his hefty frame around the small office at the back of the garage, and peered outside.  He nodded once in a matter of fact fashion, seemingly sated by the immediate results.  The tactic had made two very distinct points, which he saw had eluded the two other RPM members attending his immediate orders.

“You see,” he said almost wearily, gesturing at the lights facing outside the compound, “this is why we clear the area around the Boneyard.  They have to fight into the lights and be blind, and we get to see them coming clearly to make sure they don’t make it to the wall.  And if they do…”

The middle aged man in front of his elder took the cue, which was quite the initiative for him.  “If they do, we run them through with the traps and the wall spikes?”

Pleased, though he’d never have admitted it, the president of the RPM gave another simple nod at the fellow.  He deserved a bit of recognition when he was finally smart enough to figure things like that out.

“Right.  And if those fuckers think they’re getting the better of us, they missed the fact we’ve been here prepared for them for just about as long as there were raiders around these parts.”

The fighting had let up briefly as the raiders outside the walls regrouped.  The light had slowed them down, but it was a temporary situation as the charging, screaming bodies were replaced with rifle cracks and the occasional glass breaking.  The situation would turn again, but there were plenty of surprises left in store.

“Panhead,” a voice called from around the corner, “where do you want the artillery pointed?  Main forces?”

Dick Berken frowned for just a moment before he spun his girth around to face the new voice.  “Keep the shells dry and plant the big guns north.  Get some of the smaller ones ready for wherever they’re thinking of hitting us next.  Line ‘em up to hit a good thirty yards out.  Any closer, we may start losing our own shit.”

“Got it boss.  And by the way, Admiral just patched in to the radio.  Says he needs a word when you’re not buried in bullshit.”  The man at the door disappeared almost as fast as he showed up, leaving Dick and his two attendants alone again.

“Alright, Ogre guard the doors.  Anyone tries to come in, give ‘em one warning.  Then put ‘em out.  Not too hard, we can’t afford to start losing bodies at this point.  Led, grab Abe, I’m gonna need him working for once.”  Dick strode by, talking as he walked through the door.  As he passed them both, he turned back for only a moment.  “And get the probies running ammo.  If they’re not half asleep exhausted in the next few hours, they haven’t been working enough.”

Dick trudged through the Boneyard, looking up occasionally at the high walls and the spike sleds that pushed through them.  Each and every turret was full, with a backup body pulling rifle duty beside it just in case.  The provisions were being managed, meals being made, weapons being tended, and vehicles of all stripes being prepared.

“Well,” he suggested with all the mirth he could muster, “he sure as hell picks a great time to want to slackjaw on a radio.”

A few hours later, the core crew of The RPM crowded into one of the bike garages, tucked away from both battle and outside ears.  Dick stood at the center of the small crowd, facing each one in turn so he could gauge the fighting on their expressions.  He could tell it hadn’t gotten brutal yet, as they all looked pretty much in the moment.  He was worried when that would change, and how much it would change each of them.  Particularly if any of them would make it through.

“Alright you schlubs, here’s the deal,” he started, making sure they all quieted down while he took a moment to let his voice sink in.  “Admiral says the shelling is about as good as he can pull off right now, as these sludgebrains are pretty much right up the asshole of the naval docks.  Best chance we have is to hold out while he rallies help from down south.”

With so few people in the room, only a single word echoed in the room; “Great.”  He knew who it was, and his nephew would get an ear full of hot air and perhaps a good lump over the head later.  Now wasn’t the time.

“No, it isn’t ‘great’.  Not one of us thinks so.  But we’ve got plenty of food for the near term, and the mush-heads aren’t getting to the walls anytime soon.  We can start worrying when the ammo runs out.  More likely though it’s going to be the food.  And that’s what we’re focusing on, rationing and stringing out the bits we have on hand.”  Dick wasn’t one to let things hang in the air often, but it was a particular point of difficultly dealing with food when you didn’t have a means of food production within the walls.

The quartermaster reported that they’d have enough food to last a month and a half, and could get into the turn of the new year if they really stretched some things out.  He had even suggested adding some motor oil to the mix if things got too thin, but Dick had told him to keep that thought for later.  He hoped there wouldn’t be a later that called for it.

“We’re waiting for troops, or whoever else they throw together,” he glowered slightly, ensuring that no one decided to pop off with another smart remark.  “And when they get here, we’ll link up and help them push.  Until then, keep this to yourselves.  And one more thing – bring me Ogre.”

The door opened moments later, a hulking man of superior size ducked through the door to get into the garage proper.  He wasn’t just tall, but was filled out like a warship with shoulders to match one.  He lumbered forward, but stood a respectful distance from the RPM officers, waiting for them to speak first.

“Ogre,” Dick started, wasting no time diving into the problem.  “You’ve been good on the road.  Captains all say you can ride, and you can handle yourself with the best of ‘em.  I’ve got a test for you, which won’t be easy, but if you pull it off you’ll end up a Tail Gunner on the road.  Good with you so far?”

Ogre nodded, seemingly somewhat surprised, but managed to utter “Sure boss, whatchya need?” before he forgot who he was standing in front of.

“Kit yourself out.  Just after the turn of the year, if these shitheels outside aren’t gone, we’re sending you down the tunnel on a ride.  Need you to bring something to Mill City.  Two things to remember that are critical.  First, you bring my ride back.  Second, you don’t let anyone touch what I give you until you’re in the walls of Mill City.  One box, one key.  Got it?”

Ogre stood staring, the most puzzled look crossing his face as he processed why he’d be sent out during a fight that he’d be most useful standing around hitting things.  He didn’t quite piece it together, but shrugged his shoulders acquiescing to the fact that Dick and the officers knew best.

“Sure thing, boss.  Protect the ride, protect the box and key.  Got it.”  Ogre waited a few moments making sure it wasn’t a joke, or perhaps for some manner of divine inspiration to hit, but with neither becoming obvious, he turned to leave.

With the door closed behind him, Dick chose a door headed the opposite way, calling out over his shoulder, “Get to work, road rash, we have shit to do and raiders to kill!”

Quietly, two voices looked at the door Ogre just walked through only moments ago, and asked the pertinent question.

“Think he’ll make it?  To Mill City I mean.”

“It’d take a miracle…”

Exodus from Steel Horse Crossing - The Natural Ones

The gathering had grown smaller over the last few years, and particularly this last year.  It had been a hard few winters, and many people of the town no longer understood the symbiotic nature of those that lived within it, and those tribes that lived around it.  The tribes had taken the brunt of that failing, and none more so than the Kishwaukee.  The Palwaukee, a sister tribe, had only recently given thanks to the town for their help eliminating a problem that threatened every last one of them.  Others had protested at the gesture, claiming the town didn’t understand the burden the tribes bore, but the Palwaukee insisted that teaching those that lived within the soul of the land would help show them the importance of the tribes’ plight.  The raider horde had added no small salt to the wounds that they suffered as they encroached further into the heart of their lands.

The Kishwaukee had been the scouts to the north, the warnings that were brought to the town, the caretakers of the Great Tree that suffered.  They were the hosts to keep others safe.  And yet, the Great Tree’s infection had spread to lengths very few truly understood, and the raiders were pushing south by the day.  The Dark Moon had lost all of their children, small numbers at a time, until they began to cry out in the darkness from the beyond.  The Pinefoot had slowly been falling as the northern border of the forest began to crumble.  Their world, at one point static and known, had turned upside down.

Through it all, the Palwaukee had taken on the weight of becoming the backbone of the tribes.  It was they that called the gathering, pulling together all the tribes that could muster for a decision on what was to be done.  It would be the decisive moment when all of the blood must decide on what would befall the families that had lived here collectively over the many years.  The cool wind slowly licked the great fire burning at the center of the circle as the last of the Pinefoot slipped into the clearing, only noticed by the lithe female figure that made her way adeptly through seated men and women of all ages.

“Elder Laya of the Pinefoot,” an older man spoke quietly, his head not moving to look at her, “the circle sees you and welcomes you.”

Without so much as a sound, she took an open seat closest to the fire with the other elders with a small nod to each.  As she settled, despite the light, she seemed to fade into the shadowy background.

“Elder Timothy, it is good to be seen.  The Pinefoot greet you all in turn.”

Timothy, raising his head slightly, allowed the light to reflect off his pure white eyes.  He turned his head from left to right, more out of habit than anything, sightlessly scanning the elders’ circle.

“It is time,” he began, “to decide our future.  The horde to the north will descend, and with it, will more than likely take these lands.  The town is not prepared for this battle, and we can no longer mitigate the circumstances.  We will not stand alone to die to the man and woman. This would be folly.”

In a guttural growl, a hulking man with intricate tattoos slammed his fist into the ground next to him.  “The Dark Moon will not idly allow these creatures to take the souls of our children.  They live with the land now, and we will not leave them.”

Murmurs of agreement were cut short as Timothy raised his hand.  The silence was immediate.

“Elder Cold Bear is correct,” Timothy replied, allowing his hands to slowly fall to his side again.  A crimson leaf, falling from overhead, danced into the fire and created a quick flare accentuating the point.  “We will not leave the heart of our land to the sullied and foul brained.  But we also cannot lose everything and allow them to keep it forever.  We must be more intelligent than they are.”

“What do you suggest, Elder Timothy?” Laya questioned in a hushed tone.

The older man smiled, the white eyes trained on her as she asked the question.  “We will retreat, until those that have forgotten the heart of the woods understand what they have lost.  We will organize, and help them remember.  We will return with them and take our home once they commit to taking their homes as well.”

Another murmur echoed through the gathered members around the fire, this time lingering a bit longer.  Voices on both sides of the issue spoke their mind to each other in the darkness, but not one voice rose above the rest.

“With the Kishwaukee no longer as they once were,” Timothy continued as the crowd quickly exhausted their discussion to hear more detail, “we must share duties and thin our lines further.  The only way we survive is if we all work together with our strengths.”

Laya, pulling her legs to her chest and wrapping both of her arms around the knees, smiled in the firelight.  “We will, of course, run the forests and scout the movements?  I can think of no tribe better to take on the task.”

The eldest nodded curtly, “Just so, Elder Laya.  The Pinefoot are the most adept at this required task.  We must ensure we have information from the slow advance.  We must know numbers, locations, timing and even where they strike as they move.”

“And what would you have us do, Elder Timothy?  With the Kishwaukee no longer with us, how will we be divided?”  Cold Bear asked, his voice grave with the question.

“Elder Cold Bear, the Dark Moon have long been the most ferocious of fighters.  Your people cannot stand against the tide that moves.  Instead, you must take on the role of the Kishwaukee – defenders of the people.  You and the smaller tribes will retreat, and the Dark Moon will take up the rear guard to make sure no more fall than the battle will take.” 

Timothy’s voice was solemn, knowing he sent this tribe into the fray with assured losses.  Cold Bear’s reaction was not surprisingly, but disarming for those that did know the man well.

“We will cull those we meet and return them to the forest,” the hulking figure responded, a grizzled grin spreading over his scarred face.  “May the forest mother take them swiftly.”

 Timothy nodded earnestly at the man, his head instinctively turning to his right where another elder once sat.  The empty space of the Kishwaukee haunted him briefly.

“We will, as always, take on the task of coordinating with those that make it out of the town alive and whatever efforts are being made to reclaim our home.” he said with a note of sadness in his voice.

With the sentence spoken, the three elders sat a moment, staring at the fire in the quiet of the night.  Cold Bear was the first to stand, the sharp tones of armor and weapons clattering as he did so.  He took a skin of water and poured it onto the fire.  Laya followed moments later, repeating the process.  Timothy, with a slow sigh, stood as his joints popped softly under the loose, warm clothing.  He raised his arms to the sides, at which point the smaller tribe elders began to move forward and cast water onto the fire.  Timothy was the last, and the fire was already long out, but he still followed the ritual of his people and poured the skin of water into the soupy fire pit.

“And so it begins.”

Hey, Did You Hear? - November

“Well, with the Thrill Kill season out, now all we gotta worry about is the winter raven feedings, that dark stalker, some kinda super bees, the starving season, the insane amount of raiders north of us, or the ‘Works finding something wrong in town because someone done fucked up.”
“Still, it could be worse.”
“Damn it Leroy, that’s not somethin’ you say!”

"Somebody said sumthin about a brothel opening in town. Nothin says civilization like a good ole whorehouse!"

“What’s an ‘unregistered’ psion, anyhow?”
“Around here?  One you won’t see again.”
“How ya register then if ya don’t want to get carted off?”
“Why?  You a psion?  There’s a reward for that, y’know…”

"I heard a buncha folks are all pissed that some rover who ain't even from Steel Horse tried to talk on behalf of the town. Bet they ain't gunna get much hospitality from here on out."

[Errant Note in Town]
“Roses are Red, Your Scarves are Blue, Just like Your Face, While I’m Choking You.”

“Soemthin’ got the RPM stirred up it seems.  Couple’a new faces around the edges of town.”

“I wonder how many people realize that this trade is actually closer to the Nemesis holy day than last trade?  Most folks don’t think in backwards timeframes.  That’ll be a mistake.”

"My sister said The Works has been cracking down on illegal drugs lately. Man, I hope it’s just a fine and not actual arrestin'!"

"Folks say the HFC crew dropped a mine last trade and all kinds of bugs came out of the ground. Hell, I ain't seen this many bees my whole life. Why're bees coming out of the ground?!?"

[Posted in Town]
All verifiable Fortunate Sons may be claimed for bounty at the remote depot in town for 5 Lugs per capture.  Must be alive, per Ironworks law.  Dead Fortunate Sons are broken laws.
 

Hey Did You Hear? - October 2017

“That big meet up 12 knots way seems to have made a big fuss in the Wastes.  Rumors go that the Chancellor had someone up and disappear on her?”
“Well hell, that’ll make her REAL endearing to Rovers I’m sure!”

“Fights in town with prizes?  I wonder how that’ll turn out.  Wonder if that kinda bettin’ is legal?”

“Dis gon’ be good…”

“Someone said something about that Septima gal going on a murder spree?  Did those Fortunate Sons wash off on her?”

“Nah, probably just a Pure gone stir crazy out in the fresh air.  They like to be all kept pretty and uptight indoors too much for this kinda livin’.  Bound to happen at some point.”

“End of fall, and we haven’t seen a single raven for the season?  Either they’ve got real stealthy, or they’ve gone off and cleared out.  I’m worried about only one of those.”

“Why do we keep hearing about that Merican with his crazy experiments?  I mean, I understand that we’re in a town that appreciates some science, but that man trying to trap murderous things and poke at them doesn’t seem right in the head, science be damned.”

“Hear he did say he wants to make a cow that gives off hooch instead of milk, y’know?”

“Huh, never mind I said anything.  Seems like a good enough scientist.”

“Ironworks census taking seems to be a reasonable enough thing.”

“Unless you’re a psion that hasn’t registered, or a ‘free slave’, or some other fool thing.”

[Posted on a Sign]

“The more you ignore the late night, the worse the coming last fight.”

“Fortunate Sons been mighty quite this year by comparison.”

“Ayuh, heard they keeping it low until that Coleman feller takes his butt south for the freeze.”

“Why him?”

“Seem they got them a score fer settlin’ wit them crows.”

“I posit that Nemesis are like the psion manifestation.  Similar to having more psions in a place attracting more of the waking dead, so too the Nemesis threat is created with more people in one place.  I further hypothize that the population of untrained Telling Visionists doesn’t help this particular situation.  I theoretically will be staying indoors, despite Steel Horse having yet to experience a true ‘Nemesis Season’ as reported by other outlying settlements.”

“PURGE…..”

Hey Did You Hear? - September

“Hey, did you see all of those people who tromped out of town last trade? I wonder where they were going.”

“I heard something was prowling the woods at night last trade. Lil Bobby said he found some animals with their heads all torn off.”

“The guy talked like a doc and had a name like one… what was it?  Dr. Snyder?  Robert maybe?  Well, he looked like a doc for sure, but it was in his eyes.  That certain brand of crazy that you just know ain’t right.  Had something for eyes, starin’ on like that.”

"Dixie Rose and Sophie just about killed some fancy pure with pink hair. How much you wanna bet that ain't over yet? Make some popcorn!"

“If it wasn’t for that stupid witch baby, I’d have won that carnival prize too! I hope the Gravemind swallows him whole.”

"My brother said there's a feud between a bunch of rovers in town. His buddy said it was just a fight between Corvids & BFG. Either way, that ain't gunna go good."

“I heard someone’s quartermaster got thugged out near the new Depot. Pity. I tried to tell them that the old location was safer, even if it was a bit of a hike.”
"The Drunken Donkey Bar & Lounge opened up and has been real busy. 'Bout time we got a bar that ain't a murderhouse!"

“Ran into a trader that just sailed in. Said he came across a spot in the woods where some critter with 6 feet ripped apart a whole group of raiders. Said there was raider parts everywhere, but all the faces was gone. Now, I’ve seen some weird stuff out in the wastes, but I ain’t never seen a 6 legged critter that eats faces. Least one that’s blue.”

"Ricky said all the Kishwaukee done turned into raider-witches and came into town to kill folk, starting with Septima!"

“Ya gotta wonder, if the problems kept getting taken care of, you think less things’d pile up and cause double extra trouble?  Seems like problems only get short term solutions.”

"Been asking around, but nobody who went to the Helldive can say if they vented it proper or not. Nobody seems to be talking about it, which makes me real worried. Hell, I heard the only real Helldiver Steel Horse got decided to retire!"

"My Ma said some doctor put their baby-makin' bits into that sick, goopy tree and that's why we's got all kinds of sick going 'round town now."

"I heard a Lascarian family came into town while everyone was out at the 'dive and were asking to move back into town. Didn't they kill everybody last time they's lived here?"

"Coupla scarves came in and said there was some folks going around stealing last trade. They heard it was some kids, but I overheard some other folks sayin' it was folks who live in town!"

Hey, Did You Hear? - July

“I heard that Matt Derrick killed all the McLeods himself, but he didn’t stop there.  He just kept going with a sick grin on his face until he was completely covered in their blood.  I know they were horrible people but only a monster would do something like that…”

“I ain’t seen or heard anybody planning a helldive yet this season? What, they gunna just let the whole damned town burn like down in Bravo? What’s so important they ain’t been planning the helldive yet?!?”

“I heard that Hell Diving isn’t even a real thing, that these so called Hell Divers set the mines on fire themselves so they can look like big damn heros.  Pretty sad if you ask me…”

“What the holy hells is going on with all the babies disappearing around town? Folks are starting to lose their minds and been hiding their kids with relatives way outside the area. Gravemind stuff? Final Knight stuff? Baby thieves? What’s going on?”

“Sounds like Cooper’s been showing the town what a real High Saturday hedon party looks like. Where’s the hedon priests been in all this? Is this their tribute to Sloth? Letting Cooper do all the work?”

“Did you know that if you cover yourself in some crazy liquid you become immune to fire, I’m not even joking this weird couple invented it!”

“More of them purebloods been coming into town for some kind of rustic vacation. I suppose nobody warned them the whole damned town’s on fire? That’s bad advertising!”

“Ugh. I’ve had this weird itch ever since that horde of zed wandered into town last trade…”

“I heard Steel Horse is due for an Ironworks raid, they said that there were just too many illegal drugs in the area.  Better get used to clean living or get all your papers in order...”

“Did you hear that Valravn told that Knotter to go kill herself? You’d think someone as respectable as the Corvid Queen might be a little more sympathetic to a woman who’s lost her dead child like that.”

“One of those stupid earthshakes that keeps happening tipped over my favorite hooch mug and broke it. It had sentimental value, too.”

“Why do folks keep on insisting on stealing the baby-dolls from the Morgue?  Seems like the Gravemind started sending things to get them back too.”  

“Between the ‘Mericans celebrating their holiday and the Helldivers chompin’ at the bit, how many explosions do you think we’ll hear over the next few weeks?  How much dynamite do you think they have?”  

“Didja see the Admiral come in and meet with the town action counsel? That stupid action counsel thing ain’t nothin but a joke. I heard that Norske fella even done and quit ‘cause he said it don’t do nuthin anyway.”

Hey, Did You Hear? - June

• Hear that?  That scream is a couple’a engines roaring as that Abram fella come peelin up the roads from down south.  Hellraiser, I hear he calls it – gouts a flame and got zed smear all over the damn thing.  That’s a machine for ya.
• I’ll bet you five lugs I can cook an egg on the ground over there.
• Seems like the McLeods have gone quiet.  Nice bit for a change to not have every at each other’s throats.  Maybe they’ve moved on finally?
• I heard they’re building something called a ‘spa’ in Steel Horse. Must be why all them Pures are headed north.
• Who keeps writing messed-up letters to folks from supposedly dead people? Its been messing folks up in the head. That aint funny, its mean. Some say the graveheads think its the gravemind. I don’t think that thing knows how to write, buddy.
• That… thing?  The one that pinned up Jackson?  What the heck was it, and why was it talkin to folks?  Seems to come around more than just a few times.
• You haven’t seen any dead babies on the road, have you? No, no reason.
• I heard the Navy shelling is to try to keep the raiders back. They said they won’t stop hitting the front line, even if it comes into town. That ain’t no good for townsfolks.
• I heard tell a couple new folks almost set the whole town on fire again. Not sure why they’re so impatient for summer to start.
• A great ‘Merican hero killed a self-proclaimed nemesis right in the middle of town!
• See this hole in the ground? Just toss something valuable down there, and make a wish.
• Seems the fire mines started up kinda early this year. Somebody said a few steam vents opened up right in town and spit up some zed right into the Corvid kitchen and the hostel.
• Them pures talkin about a Lemonade Stand Massacre might’a been exaggerating before, but they set up right up by the Depot last trade and got hit real bad a few times ‘cause of it. Some angry lady natural ones and some nasty raider docs, I heard. I wonder if they still turned a profit?
• The say Gary lost his marbles and ascended. I heard the hostel got real messy there without him for a while. I wonder if folks are gunna be mad or more appreciative of him when he gets his head settled?
• You want to make some money, boy, you gotta learn to hustle. You’ll have time to sit around and drink hooch once you’re rich.
• Looks like the Chancellor almost got her a letter.  Guess she has people to screen out the boring ones and send off an attack hound instead.
• I heard the whole town’s gone crazy and started hearing things. Probably just the Hedons drinking Spirit Walk again.
• I heard someone wants to set off a bomb in the caves below town to put out the fires. As if burning season wasn’t enough of a reason to leave town!

Hey, Did You Hear? - May

• “Heard people made out real good at DeeCee. Lemonade stand, Jones’, & Corvids prolly real rich by now. Hope summa that makes it into town cause the rest of the folk are real poor still.“

“Wonder if some of that won’t even make it back into town at all?”

“Whatchya mean?  Ooooh….”

• “Fuck me, she actually got the letter?  And she’s responding?”

• “Iron Works is looking to crack down on illegal slave trade.  You a slaver you best have your paperwork in order least they check you.  Rumor has it they just cut you down where you stand you sell slaves without a license.”

“Course real slavers came into town again over last trade with some unusually skilled slaves.  Not much business to be had though.  And people wonder why real slave auctions don’t happen?”

• “Looks like folks are starting to feel a lot better.  Guess the doctors found the cure to that plague that’s been going around. Just in time too, who knows how much worse it could have gotten.”

• “I heard the Final Knights are trying to take over the town, made the hostel holy ground and everything. I say we just let them have it, can’t be any worse than what some other folks have been doing.”

• “Shshsh, I hear lotsa people been learning about the Gravemind from one or two people. I wonder how long it's gonna take before anyone realizes they're all gonna go crazy?”

• “Poor Marcy… her wedding was going to be so beautiful.  Nothing stops the horde though, those zed rolled through and left naught but bones.”

• “My ma told me this guy new to town named Farmer Charlie died trying to save a fancy pureblood. Ma said he crawled outta the ground and everybody made fun of him and almost let him die a second time. What kind of people do that?”

• “Things is heating up, almost time for the vents to start burping up fire again.  You know what that means, all sorts of flaming critters.  Hell, I even saw a flaming yeti one year run by, and it’s best not see that again.”

• “Sounds like the Action Committee had to sign some kind of contract to be recognized by the Works. I wonder if they hang when townsfolk break the law? That'd be one way to get rid of ‘em!”

• “Navy patrol got hit hard, heard a few fell in the fights.  Pit stops are getting worse, someone’s gotta do something soon or it’s gonna get worse!”

• “Apparently there’s some guy going around killing local monsters. Maybe the Iron Works should hire him to go about killing all these raiders next?”

• “Those stupid Darwins hunting that Hodag were apparently chasing a rat the whole time. It wasn’t even one of them giant mutated rats or nothing!  What a bunch of idiots.”

• “Why’s a bunch of people turning into raiders all of a sudden? Was it Little Red Schoolhouse? All the raider hordes? Bad food? It's getting really bad ‘round here.”

• “Sounds like everyone’s trying to rally their friends to go after this family of killers, good luck to ‘em, I wouldn’t be caught dead goin’ out there, because then I’d just be dead.”

• “Ma also told me that the local tribe came into town to get some help in their outside church and the townsfolk left them out there to die. Maybe Steel Horse Crossing ain't as hospitable as we thought, huh?”

Announcement time!

First up on the block: Advanced Professions

AP submissions are now open and available on the SHC website, link below. If you want to submit your PC for an advanced profession, please use this form only (all other requests will be discarded). Further, read every detail extremely carefully on the page. It's not a trick submission, but every detail must be followed. Once you hit submit, that's your one time for the next 12 months you can do so. Please make it count properly!

http://steelhorsecrossing.com/apply-for-an-advanced-profes…/

Second: Rarity strain changes

In our initial three year story arc, there have been a few things planned from the day we opened our doors. The information here includes details of things that are changing around you and due to your influence. All changes take effect now, and all original details are still valid and need no change (such as, you pay no extra AP for any change made now).

1) Despite the harsher conditions than normal, the Reclaimers have felt a push to become more insular and less open. While most have not yet fled north, there is an honest sentiment that northern Wishigan is less than hospitable for them. You will likely see even fewer than usual, including a few trading groups that had been openly offering amenable trading with Steel Horse.

Reclaimers have been moved to Rare (300 AP)

2) Conversely, with the town overwhelmingly supporting the RPM in their efforts to improve the surrounding area in a time of need, Dick Berken and the local DJs have slowly come around to helping residents more openly. While still bitter over certain topics, the RPM has started to engage a smaller, but regular, presence in town.

Diesel Jocks have been moved to Uncommon (150 AP)

Please continue to remember that ALL restricted strains have particular requirements placed on them. Having the list amount of AP for any strain does not ensure that you will play that strain. If you'd like to review the current restricted strain list, it can be found here:

http://steelhorsecrossing.com/announcemen…/…/strains-in-drwi

Thanks all!

Heather and Mike