Blackened Earth

[ThaDruid]

So so so soooo, Solomon! ThaDruid you’ve got the most history with Boda. What need be highlighted?

Let's see the child-thing at its best, bring the weird

 

[WlfSamurai]

My turn! Now I get to give you my highlight. Mine are in RED.

Boda, you need to stay SHARP.
Sam, I need you to be COOL.
Fang, you too. Be COOL.
Phoenix, stay HOT.
Chelsea, stay SHARP.
Solomon, you also need to stay SHARP.

Highlighted Stats Summary
1. Boda - WEIRD / SHARP
2. Sam - HARD / COOL
3. Fang - WEIRD / COOL
4. Phoenix - SHARP / HOT
5. Chelsea - COOL / SHARP
6. Solomon - HARD / SHARP

And now we’re ready to start the game for real...

Teh Frixz , Grey , Dante Redgrave , clarinetti , Wondertainment , ThaDruid

 

[WlfSamurai]

Session 1

First thing’s first. Sam, since your holding is home base where everyone lives in or around, tell us about it.

Grey

 

[Grey]

It's about halfway between an edge of the city ruins, and the sinkhole that might've been the centre, once.

It's a tower about ten floors tall - eleven, if you count the way the bottom floor is real high-ceilinged. We haven't tried to get into the underground part yet, except the space use as a garage.
The ruins are overgrown, real green and vibrant, but folks have tamed some parts around the tower for cultivation, and there's walls of something still standing just east of the front door (which faces south) that people use as an open market.
My gang has good sightlines from the windows, to see trouble coming and rain hell on it from inside.

I ain't so much in charge as caretaker. Everyone knows what work needs to be done, they do it on whatever shifts they agree on, and I make sure anyone too sick or old or young to work gets a share.
Pretty peaceable. I ask that most folks don't carry weapons, and I keep my troops on a tight leash. If you ain't willing to lay down your life for these people, I don't want you.

I don't know what we're going to do when all the space fills up. Right now most floors have room for a few families and a few are empty. I keep the important stuff near the top.

 

[WlfSamurai]

Excellent. And so, Phoenix, your studio is there in the holding as well. Tell us what that looks like.

Teh Frixz , Grey , Dante Redgrave , clarinetti , Wondertainment , ThaDruid

 

[clarinetti]

A short ten minute walk from the Tower, Rev 96.9 is housed in a former auto shop turned radio station, the main garage being converted into a recording booth. The studio, also referred to by its call sign 'KHIL', is a familiar landmark to scavengers travelling to and from the ruins- it’s hard to miss the colourful splashes of graffiti which adorn the exterior. Smashed windows have been boarded up with plywood while the outer doors are reinforced with metal sheets. Most of the encroaching foliage has been cleared away, and next to the building there’s a small plot of land where Phoenix tends to various herbs and greens.

The interior is lavishly decorated in colourful, albeit worn out, furnishings. Thick, musty rugs cushion the linoleum flooring as swathes of fabric hang from the ceiling, softening the cold glare of the fluorescent lights. Monitors and the recording panel are stored in a makeshift office, a series of wires and cables connecting them to the gear in the studio. Over the years, the station’s acquired a plethora of instruments for in-house use, including microphones, guitars, a semi-functioning upright, and a drum kit. The ambiance is best described as a curious mix of dingy and cosy.

The secondary garage has been converted into a workspace chock full of antennas, transmitters, and various electronic doodads. Most of the auto tools from the original garage are also stored here. Though kept meticulously clean, the space appears to be seldom in use these days.

Phoenix and their co-founder Davis Derringer set up shop here about five years ago, the former being the face of the show while the latter kept things running behind the scenes. At first they focussed solely on playing tracks from the old days, but gradually started including live performances from local talent, news segments, and the biweekly radiodrama series ‘Stories Untold’. Little over a year ago, the studio got in hot water with a neighbouring gang after exposing their role in a trafficking operation. Shortly thereafter, Derringer was murdered whilst scavenging, most likely on the orders of their leader, Razi Nabakov. Since then, Phoenix has hired a permanent bodyguard as well as a small gang to guard the studio and their guests from future attacks.

 

[WlfSamurai]

Good.

Now, we all need to talk. See, here's the thing. Living ain't free. You have to spend your scratch to keep whatever lifestyle you want. Or, don't spend it if you want to sleep in a pile of shit. I don't care. Either way, for now, you have to spend it—

And, actually, that brings up a great point. What is barter in this world? Do you straight up barter items, or is there currency to the holding? Let me ask Sam first since he is the Hardholder. Sam?

Teh Frixz , Grey , Dante Redgrave , clarinetti , Wondertainment , ThaDruid

 

[Grey]

If you're in the hold, you get what you need.

Folk barter extra produce and suchlike for luxuries the traders bring in.

 

[WlfSamurai]

Excellent. So, anyway, like I was saying before, you have to pay for your lifestyle. So, at the beginning of each session, we make the lifestyle move:



Now, this is the first session. So, instead, this time, you all have to pay 1-barter instead of choosing. I know, I know, but it was built into your sheet to include it and this way you're on stable footing to start. And this is also based on the idea that you're not working gigs the first session.

So, please mark that off first your sheet first.

A 1-barter lifestyle is how most live.

Your setup's easy and now you've already done it. Mine's harder so I'm going to take this whole session to do it. So no high-tension kick off from me, let's follow the characters around for a day and get to know them. Cool?

Let's do it.

Morning. The holding, like always, is a bustle of activity. People all over each other. Hell, it's like that outside in the streets around. No privacy. Just people. You'd think this city was From Before.

But, it doesn't take a Tech-savvy ass to figure it out. Just look around. Shit everywhere. Real shit, junk, trash. The works. Everyone is dirty and most are dead-eyed. Tired. Fucked.

If the sun weren't a dimmed by gray clouds all the fucking time, the sunrise would warm your face as your rise. But, that shit ended a long time ago. It's gray when you wake. Like always. The best part is that it's a legit surprise when the rain starts.

So, you're up. Where do you wake up? And on what?

And what do you do?

Teh Frixz , Grey , Dante Redgrave , clarinetti , Wondertainment , ThaDruid

 

[ThaDruid]

Solomon's in a battlefield. He's dug in over a hill with sandbag covers all around. Bullets whiz overhead, low-caliber plinking off of his helmet and almost taking off one of his ears. He's got the faithful machinegun bucking in his hands, laying down fire over the teeming mass of the advancing horde. They're fighting an uphill battle, falling like dead leaves, but their numbers are endless and the only remaining friendlies are Solomon's Six. Reinforcements aren't coming, so they've packed the hill all the way up with explosives. Ain't no one coming out of this alive. Charlie takes a bullet, and that signals the enemy getting too close for comfort. Can't even make out the grey soil at the bottom of the hill anymore. The soldier opens his mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. His lungs burn, his gun slowly begins sinking into the ground. He tries to throw himself at the detonator, but the earth, like quicksand, is holding him down, slowly swallowing him in. Darkness falls.

Solomon awakes with a start. Fucking dreams. He's on a cheap lawn chair that barely supports his weight, overlooking the hardhold from one of the windows high in the tower. His silenced rifle rests comfortably along his shoulder. This always happens. He can't sleep in a proper bed anymore, so he heads off on patrol, setting up in a nice bird's nest and keeping a careful eye on the surroundings. Maybe doing some target practice. Nature knows to take its course, and, inevitably, he dozes off. People don't know that, and they like to gossip about the hold's restless guardian. Let them talk, he thinks.

Sleeping in armor on a chair ain't the most comfortable gig, and always makes his joints cranky. He gets up, cracks his neck, and heads off to get some chow. Whatever's available, he likes to live frugal. Even better if he can eat on the move. With the weight of another bad night on his shoulders, Solomon checks the perimeter, makes sure everyone is doing their job. Notes down on a little worn-out notebook anything important, weird, or bad. It's almost comical seeing his big hands working that old pencil. After that he usually makes his way back up the tower, reporting to Sam for the day.

 

[Dante Redgrave]

It was 4am and fang would open his eyes looking around. He had a plan for the day. Which was why he had decided to awaken so early that morning. He'd feel the softness of Scarlett behind his back as he'd stretch. She was staring at him waiting for him to get up. Which after stretching a little bit more he'd finally get up with a yawn. He was in a more private quarters. As everyone seemed to prefer due to Scarlett. Which he didn't mind the slight privacy that came with it. So he was wearing nothing, but his boxers. Having washed his clothing the best he could the night before. He'd gather them from where he had hung them to dry. Scarlett was already waiting by the door ready for their morning run. Fang would look over at her. "We're doing things differently this morning Scarlett." He'd wash himself off with whatever means available. Before getting fully dressed, and looking at Scarlett "We gotta be quite as people are still going to be sleeping." He had all his weapons on him. Fang lead the way to where he had last parked his motorcycle. He'd open the gas tank checking his fuel level. Seeing that it had about half a tank. He'd push it aways down the street, and get on before starting. He'd then look at Scarlett. "You ready to keep up?" She'd nuzzle his hand in a way saying that yes she was. He'd pop it into gear ready for it to try and jump out from under him. He'd then hit the throttle, and be prepared as it jumped. He'd then keep accelerateing, but stayed within the speed limit of Scarlett. Which she was able to run fairly quickly due to her size. Fang would lead them towards the woods. It was time to track, and hunt. He'd ride a little bit into the woods in order to hide his bike. Before shutting it down, and getting off. He'd then look at Scarlett "You ready to track down some food?" Scarlett would lift her head up, and start to sniff the air trying to grab a scent. Fang would look around on the ground for anything worth while. For any sign that an animal had been there. After finding some animal droppings, identifing them to be an hour old, and identifying them to be that of an deer. He'd point it out to Scarlett. Scarlett would smell the are around it, and would start to run in an direction, but not outrunning fang. These two where a very good partnership. Fang would see the sign that Scarlett was about to start running, and would prepare himself. The second she bolted he was hot on her tail. He'd jump over logs, fallen trees, and ditches. He'd see the buck up ahead and would hold up a closed fist signaling for her to hold. Scarlett would stop running and watch Fang crouch, and would crouch herself. Fang would look through the scope, and zoom in until the deers heart was caught in the cross hairs. He'd then breath out while squeezing the trigger. The bolt silently being shot from the gun to the heart of it. Missing the heart, but still penetrating deeply into it's side. The deer would start trying to run off, but Fang would look at Scarlett "get it Scarlett." Scarlett would chase after it catching up to it, and would tackle it ripping it's throat out. Fang would run over, and start to pet Scarlett's head "Good girl Scarlett your always amazing in action." He'd then cute it's toungue out an toss it to Scarlett. Scarlett would catch it, and eat it. "I don't know how you do it girl, but that always seems to be your favorite part well besides the heart." He'd grab the back legs, and drag it over to a tree. He'd then take a rope outta his back pack, and would throw it over the branch. Before tying it to the back legs, and starting to hoist it into the air standing on the upper side of the hill as not to get it's blood on him. He'd then tie the rope leaving the deer suspended upside down in the air. He'd then carve the bolt outta it's side, wipe it off on his jeans, and reload the crossbow with it. Before holstering it onto his back. He'd then start to do 100 four count reputation (200) push-ups, sit ups, diamond push-ups, crunch's, alternating one arm push-ups, squats, inverted push-ups with the help of a tree, and lunges. It would take him about two hours to complete it. Allowing for the blood inside the deer to drain out. He'd then let the rope down, and untie it from around it's legs. He'd then put the deer onto Scarlett's back and tie it down. Scarlett would bear the weight with ease. She was accustomed to carrying the deer like this. He'd then lead the way back to the bike before checking the gas he had a little bit over half a tank. He was going to need a refill on gas soon. It was anywhere between 5 to 7am. Fang would get on the bike, and then look at Scarlett. "You ready to go?" She'd nuzzle his hand. He'd start it before putting it in gear, and start to head back towards base. He'd make sure that he took the back way going past the guard tower. This way meant that he was more likely not to be seen by anyone who might be awake. He'd park his bike, and lead the way to where he normally butchered the deer at. He'd then take it off Scarlett, and hang it up. He'd then go to the kitchen area, and get the containers he needed before going back out to the deer. He'd then set the containers up, and start to clean the deer. Getting as much meat off the deer he possibly could. He'd then start tossing the organs to Scarlett. She'd eat them all "Scarlett go to the stream, and clean yourself up." He'd take the meat inside, and to the kitchen. He'd stash the meat inside the deep freeze. It was now probably between 9 to 11am. Fang would go take care of his finale chore. Which was running the perimeter of the base, and going to the roof of the building. He'd look out in all directions looking for any bandits, or anything looking to cause anyone at base harm. He wouldn't see anything, or anyone. So he would run to the side of the building where the ropeling rope was. He'd then grab the rope, clipping it onto his hook. He'd then ropel to the ground, and unhook himself. He'd then head to the back. Scarlett would come running up to him soaking wet, and clean of blood. Fang would pet her head "good girl Scarlett. I'mma go see Sam. You're free to run around, but behave yourself. However, if you want to then you can come with." He'd go-to Sam's office, and knock on the door. He was their to make his report


(I know that your probably about to give me a certain amount of D? So just go ahead, and give me the number after reading it. So I can throw the dice)

 

[Wondertainment]

Chelsea wakes up on her garage floor. The last thing she remembers is that she was in the middle of polishing Wallstar's armor plating, when she grew too tired to continue. This was how her nights usually went - well, "nights". Chelsea slept irregularly through the day, sleeping not when the sky grew dark, but whenever she felt like it. It was sorta understood around the camp that Chelsea was always the same level of exhausted. Sam had once tried to convince her to sleep at regular times, but honestly, with all the shit going on out there, nobody was that concerned. To be honest, being an asshole with a fucked-up sleep cycle was probably as banal as you get these days.

Part of her job was to check in every morning. If there was a mission or an important announcement, one of Sam's lackies gave her a nod to stick around and listen. Otherwise, she'd go straight back. It was pretty much the only time Chelsea left her garage - that's right, HER garage. Nobody else touches this shit, and Chelsea was almost always here to remind everyone. Only two other people got to fuck around here: Sam, but only because he'd evict her, and Solomon, but only because he never touched nothing.

But she'd be a little late today. See, when she reported in, the assumption was that these little shits would be good to go. And today, they weren't.

Chelsea rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Time to fix that.

She hoisted herself up and kicked Wallstar, listening for that telltale jingle of a loose mechanical part. Bastard had been acting up since two sleeps ago. She sighed and sniffled, rubbing her nose and getting somehow even more grease all over her face. Chelsea reached in and yanked at something.

This was the most intimate Chelsea felt with anything. Whenever she was working in the engine, it was like hugging a big, slimy, fat baby. Grease all over her arms and face, petrol flying through her nostrils... sometimes, Chelsea just felt like curling up inside the engine and taking a nap in its embrace.

The engineer hoisted herself out, a shriveled metal coil in her hand. Fuck. Whatever, it wasn't that important. Shit would still run fine.

Chelsea wiped her hands and face with a rag so filthy it probably made things worse. Then she started making her way towards the common room, locking her garage behind her.

 

[Grey]

Sam peels himself out of the pile of blankets that serve as a bed, groggily getting to his feet in a shaft of dawn light from the one uncovered opening in the wall. That would have had glass in it, a long time ago, but now most of those gaps are filled to keep out the constant whistling wind at this elevation.

He pulls on his clothes, leaves Kate to sleep - Sam figures she might stay another night, but he'll ask her later, then maybe see if Ninevah is free. He pads into the next room, the one he calls the Planning Centre. There's a chalkboard with hold supplies marked on it, and he stares at it for a long moment, stroking his chin, thinking about who might need to do what to keep things afloat. Food looks okay, ammo too, but fuel they might need to go a-hunting for.

And then there's a knock on the sheet metal door.
"Come in," he says, gruffly, turning his head to watch the door.

 

[Teh Frixz]

Underneath the Hold, the world pulses. Located centrally inside the mess of tunnels and chambers that made up the Den of the Child Thing, Boda was entering the first stages of waking up.

Hiccuping softly, Boda curls tighter into a fetal position. The raised edges of her nest momentarily spark in sync with the gentle wave of maelstrom energies. The countless dead and discarded smartphones that made up the walls and ceiling light up as the wave passes, power returning to the ancient devices for an instant before they return to being dead to the world. Their energies vanishing back to the where and whenever from which they came.

With a jarring snort, Boda awakens. No fluttering of eyes here, her eyes snap wide and stay that way. Immediately she could tell today was different. There was a moisture in the air that flowed through her Den that carried with it scents from the world above, scents of earth and cedar, flesh and dust. On a good day for it, Boda would sit comfortably in her nest and just feel the world. Little whispers of the world flitting against her skin. Usually each day had a similar feel but today was humid, the air thick enough to cut. Boda felt as if she could almost swim in it before remembering she couldn't actually swim, or had never tried.

Rearing up finally, her body shifts and roils as if deciding what it wanted to be today. Skin flowing around fabric before solidifying and becoming what she thought she was. A series of reflective glass plated phones in what Boda decided were good condition acted as a mirror for the Child Thing. Even if she felt like herself, it didn't always mean the details were there. A mouth where an ear should be, an extra tongue in her palm, horns erupting from her forehead. Remarkably, she wasn't far off today. The similar coal black hair, the blue eyes and pale skin around a youthful frame. She smiled wide, thinking about her memories of the original owner of this look. Someone long gone now but Boda honoring her memory in her own way.

Her body tenses in the mirrored surfaces, hands thrown up to touch her mirror twin.

"Today is another good day in a good life." She tilts her head back, inhaling deeply. "I've got friends, I've got safety, there aren't any wolves around and there is lots of food. Good life, good life!"

The affirmation in the mirror reflects in her posture improving and her appearance brightening. Happiness radiates in her being as she slips away from her mirror to sort through a pile of scav clothing to wear. She was running low, Boda never wearing dirty clothing and not really into the whole laundering thing. She'd have to scrounge up some new gear or barter soon. Which meant going out into the Tower. Excitement grew inside her, a reason to visit and see what was going on. Good chance for some food from the garage too. Her eyes flit over to the boarded up tunnel that lead to Chelsea's domain. It would have been a bad idea to use that entrance again, considering the last time. Today, Boda decided, would be a surface trip.

Looking back on her Den and pausing long enough to feel a pulse of the Maelstrom, Boda set off for the Tower with a spring in her step.

 

[WlfSamurai]

So. Solomon, Chelsea, Fang, it sounds like you’re all heading to Sam’s office to report in today. That sound right?

Solomon, you saw Fleece doing something she shouldn’t from your perch this morning. You know, from Sam’s gang? What was it?

Fang, what does your hunting provide the holding? Food? Protection? Basically, why does Sam tolerate it?

Chelsea, what happened last time Boda came up from below through your garage?

Sam, do you have a name for your gang? Are Kate and/or Ninevah in it?

Boda, how do you head up to the tower? What do you take? And are you heading for Sam’s office too?

Phoenix, where do you wake? In the studio?

Teh Frixz , Grey , Dante Redgrave , clarinetti , Wondertainment , ThaDruid

 

[Grey]

Some people call the gang the Regulators, but Sam doesn't.
Kate's not in the gang, but Ninevah is - he doesn't usually get romantically entangled with his fighters, but she's an exception.

 

[clarinetti]

There's the sound of brisk knocking, and Phoenix stirs from their reverie on the makeshift bed set up in one of the offices. Bleary eyes take in the surroundings- the blankets discarded on the floor, a mish-mash of dishes accumulated on a nearby table, the tint of indigo light filtering in from the window slats. Finally, the figure rouses into awareness and bangs a fist against the wall. "I'm up, Perez!" they shout, slumping off the couch to reach the door. Grimacing slightly as eyes adjust to the hallway lights, they just catch sight of the guard's hulking frame before slipping into the console space. Settling into the designated office chair, Phoenix goes through the familiar sequence of adjusting dials and antennas, a menial yet comforting routine. After a few minutes of tinkering one of the bare lightbulbs flicker on, illuminating the painted sign beneath labelled 'ON AIR'.

"Good morning, you beautiful bastards- so glad you could join us." the host purrs into the microphone. "This is Rev 96.9: your annihilation station. It is an ungodly hour right now- 5:54AM, according to the studio clocks- so let's start off with some classics from way back when. Here's Soundgarden- Black Hole Sun." Phoenix concludes, flicking a couple switches and smiling dozily as the first reverent strands wash over the space. Pulling themselves up a moment later, they shuffle along to freshen up and get ready for the day- always so much to do, people to see. Thirty minutes later the announcer emerges from the washroom, curled locks forming a messy halo around the clean-shaven face. Donning the signature suit and worn out loafers, the next few hours go by in a flash as Phoenix settles into their element. Shooting the breeze, taking calls from the audience, plucking out hidden gems from their eclectic collection of CD's... it's the raison d'être, as they say.

As the wall clock draws close to 9AM, the figure draws the segment to a close. "I'm afraid that's all the time we have this morning, folks. But don't you worry- we've got a playlist of sweet beats to accompany you as you go about your day. And be sure to tune in at 4pm for our 'Under the Covers' Session with the Stone Cold Killers. This is Phoenix Montoya, signing off." the tanned figure declares, switching off the mic before collapsing into the nearby love seat. "No rest for the wicked." they chuckle breathily to themselves, tempted to shut their eyes and take a quick nap. After a few minutes of tranquil peace, the gangly body stretches and forces itself to mosy its way out the main studio. Rounding the corner, Phoenix pockets the silencer laying on the counter enroute to the back entrance, locking up behind them. Dark eyes settle on the looming structure of the Tower, gaze intense as they start walking towards the building.

Time to hustle some coin.

 

[Teh Frixz]

Boda

Don’t take much, I don’t really ever carry much at all when I go out because I want to be able to carry things back to the Den.

Sam’s office is a risky choice but that’s where I’m headed. He’s been nice to me but he’s also been stern...

I go by land today, exiting my Den inside some old empty shop. I usually make the entrances inside the vent so I have to climb up through the walls before dropping down onto the floor. The tunnels I’ve made go for miles and miles. I didn’t make them all but I know them pretty well, if I find new ones I’ll seal off branches and make sure that they are all well kept. Nobody really uses them surprisingly enough. I think most people are put off by how narrow and cramped they are.

Doesn’t bug me at all. It even makes me laugh a bit as I slip out from the wall. I’ve got to head past some tricky area to enter the Tower by foot. Regulators might hassle me if they recognize me too. That’s fine, I’ve gotta talk to Sam anyways.

I pull my coat up tighter and start off at a good pace, following the others heading into Tower.

 

[Wondertainment]

Last time Boda tried to walk into the garage, Chelsea was watching calmly, magnum pointing at the tunnel being dug. She said no words, only cocking her gun and shaking her head. Her face held no expression, but it would have been incredibly clear to Boda that she was NOT welcome here.

Chelsea opens the door to Sam's office.

"Hope you didn't put too much in my docket. Wallstar's acting up. Gonna need some time to fix the bastard up."

 

[ThaDruid]

Solomon's fist is like an avalanche against the flimsy metal door, three rhythmic thumps threatening to smash through into Sam's office. A gruff voice called him in from the other side, so the boss was already awake and had put some clothes on. The door creaked open, Solomon ducking his head as he entered the Planning Room.

His salute was a grunt, his gestures short and to the point - business as usual for the Gunlugger, but something had obviously upset him. He paced a bit, his fists were tight, fingers fiddling with a strap on his belt. Solomon didn't like being nervous, and nobody liked a nervous Solomon. Had a bad case of itchy trigger finger. He slung a worn-out duffel bag off his shoulder, stuffed and jingling with weapons and ammo. It thunked on the table, proving itself much weightier than it looked in his hands. He fished under his breastplate for a pocket, taking out a small leather-bound diary. Navigating it with practiced ease, finding the page and giving it a couple more reads for good measure, an aggravated Solomon addressed Sam.

"Fleece fucked up. First time for everything. She let someone in the hold this morning, before most folks woke up."

His gravelly voice spat out the words, almost reluctant to speak, followed by a dry cough.

"Let him crawl right under the chainlink fence, all shady-like. I kept an eye on the slippery fuck. Looks like some rev dealer, but I got a bad feel. Like he's looking for someone. If it was up to me I'd punch his teeth out and break her legs, but this is Regulator business. Don't concern me, unless you want it to."

He stated, matter-of-factly. Finally his head swiveled to the side, locking eyes with the other person in the room. "Chelsea."

 

[Grey]

Sam stands with hands on hips and an expression of cool disapproval. Doesn't reach his eyes all the way.
"Did you eat yet?" he says, to the room in general.
He leans against a heavy block of rubble that serves as a desk, and sighs.
"Appreciate it, Solomon. Might need you to bring me the stranger. We'll see," he says. "and you're in the clear for the day, Chelse."

 

[Dante Redgrave]

So. Solomon, Chelsea, Fang, it sounds like you’re all heading to Sam’s office to report in today. That sound right?

Solomon, you saw Fleece doing something she shouldn’t from your perch this morning. You know, from Sam’s gang? What was it?

Fang, what does your hunting provide the holding? Food? Protection? Basically, why does Sam tolerate it?

Chelsea, what happened last time Boda came up from below through your garage?

Sam, do you have a name for your gang? Are Kate and/or Ninevah in it?

Boda, how do you head up to the tower? What do you take? And are you heading for Sam’s office too?

Phoenix, where do you wake? In the studio?

Teh Frixz , Grey , Dante Redgrave , clarinetti , Wondertainment , ThaDruid

The hunting provides the holding with food. As food is hard to come by, and is hard to grow. It's easier to have an experienced hunter to track, and hunt food.

 

[Dante Redgrave]

Fang would walk into the office just before Sam asked if the others had eaten yet. "Well I have, and i restocked the freezer with fresh meat. Went up to the roof, and didn't see anyone in sight. About to go up, and check again. If you want unless if you want me to handle any other business."

 

[WlfSamurai]

Seems you all arrive around the same time. The usual check-in and info swap.

Sam, Foster saunters in. A firecracker of a bitch as always with that shit-eating grin. She’s your gang sergeant of sorts. She relays your orders so you don't have to address the whole gang all at once. And she can take what you give her in these little meetings and get the gang ready for the day.

“Sup, Boss,” Foster says leaning against a wall.

Sam, you got a report yesterday that III (pronounced three) and his gang made a move deeper in the city. What was it?

Since you’re all there, what do you all do?

Teh Frixz , Grey , Dante Redgrave , clarinetti , Wondertainment , ThaDruid

 

[Grey]

III and his scum pressed toward the old water... factory? Plant? Whatever it was, it's where the city-forest sources most of the water that doesn't come from the sky.
Sooner we find out if they're going to try and take it and extort everyone, the better.

"Appreciate the bounty, Fang," Sam says, "might need to send you hunting again but do what you do 'til then. What do you have for me, Foster? We looking good?"