Story Phantoms of the Wasteland.

[TheAmbiguousStoryteller]

I thought I would turn this epic project I am working on into a series on here. This will be Episode 1

The Wasteland​

A treacherous desert, filled with venomous snakes and lizards, roaming wild Prong-Horse, Crown-horned Addax and striped Desert Elk. Poisonous and toxic plants. If that wasn’t enough, there was very little water in the wasteland—either deep in the sand or at one of the rare oases throughout the shifting desert. Across the East and west of the Wasteland, there are red rock formations. Among them is the Citadel of Cedric. A city in the northwest corner of the Wasteland. There are silver deposits in the southern canyons; the northern mountain contains iron and zinc. The Northeast corner of the Wasteland is rich in copper ore and coal as well. There is one main faction of the Wasteland that exists with some form of the government hierarchy. The New Haven Alliance is in the Northern Mountains of the Wasteland. The rest are small settlements where people work together as communities. The New Haven Alliance has driven the Wasteland into an Industrial Era, building railroad tracks and simple firearms such as revolvers, lever-rifles and triple to single-barrelled shotguns. Coal is the only fuel source in the Wasteland limiting travel to train, airship and animals such as the Addax or Prong-Horse.

Spoiler: An artist from the wasteland painted this landscape.

Episode 1: Trouble in Old Tree​

The sun was beating down on the desert with little clouds overhead for shade. A hot breeze pelted Gabriel's face with the smallest grains of sand as he walked alongside his old Prong-horse, Jasper, a sizable brown prong-hose with a blond mane and two horns of average atop its head. The empty saddle resting on the back of the prong-horse stood up to Gabriel’s chest. With his tongue, Gabriel could feel the grit caught between his teeth and lips. His desert drake, a slender brown and black scaled drake, named Ripley had gone off somewhere. Gabriel had lost track of the drake in his thirst. He had stopped sweating a few hours back; he didn't remember when exactly but was close to the Old Tree Settlement, where he could get some drinking water. And cash in on the dead bandit on Jasper's back that started to smell in the hot sun. When the wind stopped whistling in his ear, Gabriel could hear Ripley barking in the distance. He pulled on Jasper's lead, and the prong-horse followed him in the direction of Ripley's call.

The prong-horse slowly dragged a sled piled with bodies of bandits. Gabriel arrived at the location where Ripley was making noise. Ripley had been digging, and as Gabriel got closer to his surprise, Ripley had been searching. Upon closer inspection, Gabriel noticed that the sand was damp. Gabriel rushed to the hole Ripley was digging and helped the drake dig deeper until water started pooling in their spot.
"Good Boy, Ripley!" Gabriel shouted, ecstatic to have water finally in this desolate desert. Winter used his Shemagh to keep any of the sand grains from getting into his canteen though he would still have to boil the water thoroughly before taking any sips from the liquid of life. Gabriel looked to the sky, covering his eyes with his hand like a visor est, mating that the sun was at the highest point and would start sinking in front of his direction of heading west. Gabriel would make it back to his little shelter and family by the time the sun was beginning to drop. It would be gruelling but worth the trouble with the bounty he had collected.

In the proximity of the Farmhouse. Gabriel with his family the order of bounty hunters guild house in the Wasteland. From the direction he was travelling, this would be a sign he is close to Old Tree. But, Gabriel could tell something was off. The silence was deafening, and the smell of fire with burning flesh was in the air. Ripley whined; Gabriel cut the ropes attaching his horse to the makeshift sled. Gabriel mounted the horse and snapped the reign sending the horse into a gallop towards home, laying eyes on the grisly scene as the house in coals smouldering earth the three bodies tied to posts of what was once the porch; One female and two male. Gabriel noticed a note attached to the farthest body on the left. He pulled the letter from the knife tearing the paper at the top. Edges scorched the paper read; Meet at Hangman's Saloon in Old Tree or the rest die. Gabriel crushes the note in his hand, turning back to his Prong-horse.

***

“There is no way this guy is as tough as you say he is, boss,” Skinny said, wiping the sweat from his brow, the sun high in the sky, scorching sandblasted the landscape. The bandits were just coming upon Old Tree. The old dead tree just outside the settlement is a sign. Skinny recognized one of the corpses and swallowed hard.

“Let me tell you a story about his place, Skinny,” The leader spit on the side of his horse. “I worked for a man named Jenkins once. He took this town. Had us all held up in the saloon drinking and having a good time.”

“Well, the bounty hunters sent this guy.”

“And my father killed over twenty bandits,” Quinn interjected.

“He killed 29 out of 30 of us that were here at Old Tree Settlement. I never even saw him once.”
“Wait, So you don’t even know what he looks like?” Skinny asked as they dismounted and entered the saloon, dragging Victoria and Quinn behind them. The leader shook his head.
"What's a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?" The leader of the bandits said as he motioned for his men to spread out. Six bandits walked into the Hangman Saloon at Old Tree. Upon entering the Hangman Saloon, the bar is across from the main entrance.

The Hangman Saloon of Old Tree was a spot for weary travellers and hunters of the Wasteland to grab a drink of cactus moonshine or water. The front door across the floor of the Saloon from the bar. A round sweeping staircase leads up to the upper level, where there were vacant rooms, in the open space of the top and bottom floors were tables and chairs. Eric and Erica, some twins who had taken up residence in Old Tree, worked the levels while Mary, a tough old lady, ran the bar. Four people on the main floor were drinking in the bar as usual. Two sets of curved stairs opposite each other were the upper levels overhanging the bar like a balcony. Some locals rushed out while Sheriff Conrad and a usual to the Saloon Sebastian stayed behind. Outnumbered and matched, the bandits quickly took control of the Saloon. Two ganged up on Conrad, subduing the sheriff, while another smashed an empty bottle over Sebastian's head, causing the older man to bleed.
"What do you wanna do with them, boss?" One of the two bandits asked their leader. A sinister smile slid across the leader's lips as he looked to the top and center of The Juliette staircase over the bar.

"Get them tied up, boys; let's wait for the Star of our little show to get here." The leader said in a devious tone. The bandit standing behind the leader who had not engaged anyone ran back out the door to retrieve bindings — returning to the Saloon with a bundle of rope that he had collected, handing smaller pieces to the bandits. The bandits tied everyone’s wrists themselves, the people who remained in the bar and gave the longer strands to the leader.
"Get 'em upstairs!" The leader shouted, prompting his followers to rally the people on the higher level of the Saloon. It was a ten-foot drop. The leader walked up to Mary, who had remained quiet.
"What are they doing here!?" She shouted in disbelief and rage. Mary pulled the pistol from under the bar and aimed for the leader's chest. When she noticed Victoria and Quinn in the mix of bandits lead around by some leashes like some animals. The leader quickly grabbed Quinn and placed her in front of himself as a human shield. He was pulling a long knife from the sheath attached behind his back.

"Easy now, Big Momma. I wouldn't want to slip and cut this pretty face or an artery." The leader provoked. "Put the piece down." He commanded her. Reluctantly Mary dropped the pistol and kicked it away. “Good ." He said as he quickly tilted his head towards the bandit he had named skinny. "Take her and the other one upstairs." He ordered, then walked over to Mary, picking up her pistol and binding her wrists.

"You're gonna be sorry," Mary said to him in a low voice. He mocked her with his cocky smile dragging Mary by the wrists up the stairs.

Ambrose took long and deep breaths from his rolled cigarette. He wasn’t enjoying his spot on the porch outside on his humble abode. Another dull day that was till the commotion from over yonder the other side of the streets. Sure enough, a couple of citizens made their way out into the street, confirmed—a weary look over his pale and minced features—just one more puff. A few of his fingers that held his cigarette would glance over the scar over his right eye. He wasn’t bold, nor brave but the sense of empathy, guilt, and maybe some curiosity pushed him from his rocking chair. Flicking out his cigarette into the street when his body shook at the sight of bandits. “Shit.” Things just turned south real quick. To say he almost lost his spine would be true, as he quickly moved to the outside of the tavern away from the windows. He was huffing his breath from the rush. He didn’t even want to try to peek to see what was happening, honestly. And he wouldn’t. Ambrose didn’t think the bandits would have the upper hand. Looking in would lead to the possibility of some rather alarming facts he didn’t want to believe. So rather than a cowardly glance, Ambrose crawled to the corner of the tavern peering at the door waiting. Some dust on his leather chaps was worth his cowardice.

“Hush, little baby…” Ambrose heard while he was on the wooden walkway outside the saloon peaking at the door. Ambrose started turning his head to see a beautiful young woman with ginger hair walk through the saloon doors. “Don’t say a word…” As he watched the newcomer enter from outside, he moved to the window.

Nobody knew who she was, but the hostages were thankful they walked in until the leader drew Mary's pistol training sites on her chest. His eyes followed her through the dusty windowpane; something about how calm she was as she walked in gave him a shiver. Maybe it was the sinister smile she wore across her face.

"Who the hell are you." The leader said, surprised to have another guest. She put her hands up with the sight of the bandits, and the pistol pointed to her chest.
"Name's Grace." her voice cold as her eyes.
The leader of the bandits cocked the hammer back on the pistol. "Well, what are ya doin' here, Grace?"
"I'm looking for the hunter; they call The Phantom.”

"Well, what, ya know, we're chasing the same ghost." The leader Motioned the pistol, "Skinny, tie this one up and be careful with her. She's a dangerous one." He could tell from the look she was giving him, the way she had surveyed the entire room without ever having him leave her sight.
Skinny cut another length of rope, and subdued Grace like the other's hands tied in front of her, then dragged her upstairs. The leader followed his fellow bandits fitting their hostages with nooses. Forcing them over the railing, waiting to fall or pushed to their doom.
"Now then, I've been waiting for a long time to meet the hunter they call The Phantom." The leader said sarcastically, pacing between the eight hostages. "I think I'll kill you two cause I have been waiting for so long," he pointed to Conrad and Sebastian.
Two bandits pushed them off the outer edge of the railing their nooses connected to, their ropes snapped. Both men's bodies were heavy enough to break their necks from the fall, killing them quickly.

"You rotten bastard!" Eric shouted at the leader, watching Sebastian and Conrad get hung by the bandits. "What I had to make sure this railing would hold." The leader said the group of bandits laughed at the sick joke. Quinn was working on getting her hands free.
Mary and Grace stood silent, watching the leader intently. Victoria closed her eyes, her head down, praying her husband would show up soon.
"Hey what's your name?" Grace asks nodding towards the eldest woman of the four women remaining as hostages.

"Mary. Wish it were better circumstances to meet you, sugar."

"Likewise." Grace said as the turned her head back to the bandits. Hours seemed to pass, the sun sinking lower in behind the horizon. The leader was bored; the bandits had started to drink the moonshine, becoming intoxicated and getting rowdier as time went on.
"You know I am beginning to wonder if this guy is even going to show up!" The leader said, getting annoyed with the waiting. He paced back and forth between the remaining six hostages. Stopping at Erica, Eric's twin sister.
"You leave her alone, you sadistic monster," the leader smiled as he looked over to Eric, then back into Erica's eyes. His hand brushed her hair from her face. Then both of his hands went to her shoulders. He pushed her off the ledge, and she fell with a scream. "Nooo!" Eric screamed as he watched his sister fall. The noose around her neck cut off Erica’s scream; she was too light for the fall to break her neck. Erica started kicking and sputtering hard until finally, she gave one prolonged twitch and went lifeless, a drizzle against the hardwood as her bladder emptied onto the floor.
"Alotta life in that one, Boss." One of the bandits behind the bar called up. The leader pulled out the long knife, sunk the blade deep into Eric's back, and twisted. Eric gasped. His face twisted in pain as he felt the blade tear organs in the wound.
"Nooo!" Quinn’s shriek filled the saloon. She had a crush on Eric, and Erica was her closest friend; the leader looked over to her, pushing Eric off his knife. Eric fell from the edge. His lifeless leg hit a bandit who let out a yelp.

Ambrose watched and ducked down under the window to hide his presence. He observed a bandit staggering towards the door, the bandit’s breathing laboured, and he was pale like he had seen a ghost. The bandit didn’t even notice Ambrose as he walked by, barely alive. The leader sees a shadow in the corner of his eye pass by a window to his left. He stared for a moment at the window, looking out the west side of the building and shrugged, figuring it was just his mind playing tricks. But from Ambrose’s point of view, a large, muscular-looking man snuck in around back to the cellar entrance. The staircase left unguarded with a knife in the lookout’s back. When the door opens, Sid stumbles in with a knife in his back. Sylus and Gunter don't give Sid a chance to speak. They opened fire immediately, killing the lookout. "Stop shooting, damn it! That's Sid!" The leader shouts over the gunfire.

Sylus and Gunter step out from behind the bar, they approach Sid to investigate his body. A large knife wound in his back but the blade was missing. Grace looked down to see the one she had been searching for. The one the bandits had come looking for, this entire reason they are making this facade. The Phantom has arrived. He puts his finger to his lips to keep her quiet.

"What are you looking at?" The leader asks with a peculiar curiosity. He turns his head to her then looks down. Nothing…

"Just the floor." Grace answered vaguely, the leader doesn't like this and he grumbles as he continues to wait impatiently pacing between the remaining hostages. The leader keeps a keen eye on Grace, she is the only real killer in the bunch next to the famous Victoria, as beautiful as she is deadly. Though she doesn't seem so dangerous they way she is tied up and quietly awaiting her death.

From out of the shadows cast by the ceiling, Gunter sees the Phantom come forward. A silhouette was darker than the darkness of the depths of the poorly lit saloon. The overweight bandit drinking under Erica's lifeless body shuddered and drew his pistol, pointing it at his fellow bandit. Seeing the Phantom silently grab his friend Syrus dragging him into the bowels of the Hangman. The overweight man started firing bullets into the dark. His leader poked his head over the railing from behind Quinn and Mary.
"Gunter, What are you shooting at?" heard the leader ask angrily. Gunter looked up, and they heard a groan coming from the darkness under the overhang of the upper level of the Saloon. Gabriel, the Phantom had immediately let go of the bandit before Gunter opened fire on his friend. Gabriel continued to stalk from the shadows. Digger, Bard, Skinny and their leader on the upper level. Gunter with his dead friends Syrus and Sid on the lower level.

"I swear I saw someone snatch up Syrus," Gunter explained with a shaky voice when their comrade, Syrus, came stumbling from the shadows shot up by Gunter.
"You shot me?" He stammered, confused, falling face-first to the floor dead. Gunter is mortified by this revelation, killing his friend Syrus and not the Phantom, Gunter is shaken to his core.

"God, Dammit. Find that asshole!" The leader ordered Gunter, anger rising in his voice. He grabbed the little pump shotgun from his side, handing it to Skinny. "You watch them if they try to get back to this side, kill 'em." He ordered as he walked down the stairs trying to catch Gabriel between Gunter and himself. Gabriel had the leader and Gunter walking in circles, avoiding them easily.

Skinny was sweating, white-knuckling the shotgun as Victoria kept her head down, Quinn was staring holes into Skinny. Mary was snickering quietly, but soon, her snicker broke into a massive roll of laughter.
"What's so funny?" Grace looked at Mary as she continued to laugh.

"Look at Skinny he's about to shit himself." Mary sighs and continues to laugh, Grace looks at Skinny and starts to laugh with Mary.
"Shut up!" Skinny shouts getting frustrated, he hadn't killed anyone yet and this was the first time he ever held a shotgun. He was pale sweating. The shotgun was shaking in his hand. Then Skinny took a step forward.
Grace waited with growing anticipation as she stood upon the railing, amazed as the bandits started shooting each other. Now, this was getting good. Her eyes narrowed and shifted to Skinny, "You know what you did wrong?" Grace’s eyes glinted as she tilted her head back to check where Skinny stood behind her. While Skinny tried to figure out precisely what he did wrong, she twisted her form, smashing her elbow into his throat, driving him back from the railing as she came back to the safe side of the handrail in front of him. Skinny dropped the gun, and she picked it up while he choked on his breath, silencing any warning he could've given.
"You tied my hands in front of me." she sees a bandit rush her; the recoil ran through Grace's body as one of the slugs embedded into Bard's thigh. Before the smoke even cleared, as Skinny stumbled towards her, she turned again and struck the butt of the gun against Skinny's nose, sending him clear over the railing. There was an absolute satisfaction in her eyes as a table broke Skinny's fall and his spine, killing him instantly. The leader gets angry that two of his men, killed by this phantom hunter and his friends. He is also running out of options making him impulsive. He walked briskly to Victoria, "you wanna mess with me, asshole." He shouted before pushing Victoria off the edge. Victoria fell; Quinn shrieked, almost losing herself, only to be grabbed by the leader. Quinn crying now, wasn't sure if she was going to live or die. Gabriel doesn’t know which was louder. The rope snapping or Victoria’s neck-breaking.

The leader moved back towards the rounded staircase. Gunter following close behind. Gabriel stepped out from the darkness grabbing Gunter by the face muffling his yelp as he reached for the pistol. Gunter couldn't get his gun out of the holster before Gabriel slipped the blade of his knife into Gunter’s windpipe from behind.Gunter made a low gurgling noise, only heard by Gabriel as Gunter’s life drained from his body like the blood he was choking on. The leader quickly climbed the stairs; Grace and Mary were fighting with Digger. Mary had put her noose around Digger’s neck from behind. She was trying to help Grace while Digger fought Grace for the shotgun. Gabriel watches Victoria’s body drop in front of him from the overhang. Her neck snaps when the rope tightens, leaving her eyes wide, her body twitched a little before going lifeless, she is spinning around while she hangs. Gabriel’s eye twitches a few times before his face makes a grimace, and he draws the Oathkeeper 440 revolver from his leather holster.

The leader is happy with his fine work, but the pride was short-lived when he heard those rounds go off, and the bullets came flying through the floor, nearly hitting him as he grabbed Quinn, keeping her from falling. One of the shots hit Digger in the spin, putting him on the floor. The leader weighing his options, didn’t want to stick around, leaving Bard behind. The leader took his knife and cut the rope tethering Quinn to the railing at a length of 4 feet, and started dragging her down the stairs. The leader scrambled and made it to his horse, running away with Quinn in tow. At the same time, Mary attempted to finish off the Wounded Bard. Gabriel took aim at the leader but didn’t fire, not having a clean shot to hit his target past Quinn.

Gabriel Stops Mary from killing Bard. “Wait, Mary, I need him alive so I can cross the tribal lands.” Gabriel’s low deep voice was cold and emotionless even in the wake of Victoria’s death; he still didn’t show any signs of emotional distress. Gabriel started cutting down the bodies with his knife and dragged Bard down the stairs. Though there was a different air around him. A somber smoke from the fires of rage.

Grace dug her fingers into the rope still around her neck and pushed up as the scratchy material cleared her neck and head to drop off behind her. She rubbed her neck for a moment only to hear Quinn let out a cry as the leader grabbed Quinn's rope and started pulling her down the stairs. She swore under her breath and started towards the man to pull him back only to stumble back as a bullet tore through the floor of the stairs and nearly took the man out. The moment of hesitation was all the man needed to rush out to his horse with the struggling Quinn in his wake. "We need to go after them!"

Gabriel heard Grace say they needed to go after them. He didn’t say anything; at the bottom of the stairs, he looked at Grace. “I already know where they are going.” haunting as ever as he grabbed Bard by his leg and started dragging him towards Digger. Gabriel stood over Digger, who had been injured by one of the bullets Gabriel shot up through the floor, putting him on the ground.

“No, don’t kill me. No! N-” Digger was cut off by Gabriel’s Oathkeeper revolver, putting a hole into Digger’s chest, blood pooling from underneath Digger spreading out into a puddle. He continues to drag Bard down the stairs. Bard grunted and struggled.

Gabriel stuck his index and thumb into the wound on Bard’s leg, making him yelp in pain as Gabriel dug around in the damage. “Who sent you?”
"Arg! If I tell you will you let me live?" Bard writhed as Gabriel dug into the wound.
"I don't know, let me think about it?" Gabriel dug deeper into the wound and pulled out he lead slug.
"Shit! Some bigshot from the Bazaar!" Bard said, "Damnit! Sloan, I think his name was. You promise you won't kill me?" Bard tried to bargain for information for his life. Gabriel didn't give him an answer.

Grace came down the stairs with ropes that bound her wrists, carrying the shotgun with her. She set it down as the man began interrogating Bard, crouching to pull a knife from her boot. She took a seat then and began sawing through, angling it as best as she could to break free with a mild amount of annoyance and a massive amount of focus and concentration on her face. Cold eyes flickered to Bard as he screamed but otherwise continued sawing her way through. It was with a bit of relief as her hands came free, and she sat back, resting her arm against her knee as her knife dangled between her knees. Her gaze shifted to the door again, fury in her eyes.

Mary understood what Gabriel meant and was satisfied with Bard’s fate. She heard Grace shout that they need to go after Quinn. Mary put her hand on Grace’s shoulder. “There isn’t a place in the wasteland that man can hide now.”
She said, walking down the stairs past Grace to Gabriel.
Grace froze, ice-cold eyes staring Mary down as her hand warmed her shoulder. "Are you sure about that?" She could feel her temper rising as the man continued to interrogate the bandit. She drowned out his screams with her rage.
“I would tell you that she’s gone, Gabriel. But you go find that son of a bitch who killed my babies and bring me back his head.” Mary turned to Grace. “You better go with him, Sugar.”
"Plan to...you going to be okay?" Grace picked some dirt from her nail, her tongue in her cheek, listening to Bard.
“I’ll be fine.” Mary sat on the floor with the corpses of Eric and Erica.
Grace scrubbed a hand across her forehead, turning her gaze towards the two of them as the man pleaded for his life. Pathetic. She spent a moment picking dirt out of her fingernail. "I'm going outside."

 

[TheAmbiguousStoryteller]

The Long road ahead

Gabriel let out a loud whistle. A Prong-Horse and a brown Drake came running into view. Ripley, The Drake Gabriel, had found abandoned and raised roared in excitement. The drake is a four-legged creature with a mixture of shiny light and dark brown scales. The snout is long and slender, lined with razor-sharp teeth. The Prong-Horse remained calm. “They can’t stop in any of the settlements... That bandit will be dead.” Gabriel said as he strapped the bandit to a sled dragged by Ripley. “Don’t eat him, okay boy,” Gabriel said to Ripley. He looked at Grace. “They will have to take the long way back to the Bazaar,” Gabriel told Grace. “You have a horse?” Gabriel asked her. As he came out behind her, then saddled up on his Prong-Horse.

Grace stood outside, getting the fresh air and leaning against the railing as Gabriel dragged Bard out and whistled for his horse. She turned her gaze towards him as she straightened up. "Let's hope that he's foolish enough then." Grace whistled herself, and a beautiful cream-coloured prong-horse trotted into view with dainty sawed horns. She moved over to the animal and smiled for the first time since he had seen her, whispering sweet things as she rubbed her nose. "Now, who's a good girl? We're going to get the bad bandit, aren't we?" She put her foot in the stirrup and climbed up. The horse danced sideways in its excitement, and she patted the mare's neck.

Gabriel looked towards the sun starting to set in the canyons of the south. He snapped his reins, Ripley the tall, slender Drake followed along, above a group of Amphiptere circled. Gabriel rode Jasper, Ripley dragging Bard along with Grace and Gabriel. “What’s your name?” Gabriel asked as they rode. Jasper trotted at a steady pace. The sun was sinking lower. The leader would have stopped at a camp ahead of them to regroup. Gabriel and Grace had left him with very little, and he was going to need water to make it to the Bazaar. Gabriel heard Bard speak up. ”I know who you are.” Bard said. Gabriel shushed Ripley. ”You’re the angel of Death, Maiden of the wasteland.” Bard had a quiver in his voice. The northern lantern was in the sky. He looked to the eastern sky seeing the archer. ”You burnt down the Killmoor bandit camp.” Bard continued.”Singing lullabies.” Gabriel stopped his Prong-horse his pet drake stopped as well. “We should set up a camp here.” Gabriel looked at Grace

Grace kept up readily enough on her agile prong-horse, settling into a comfortable stride. Her horse was fast and sleek, with a build that quickly crossed the desert sands. She knew of Gabriel, not his name, only that he was the Phantom. Even with his wife and daughter in danger, he stayed in the shadows, striking when it was advantageous to do so. It had impressed her once she had some time to think about it. Blue eyes shifted as ginger strands caught the dying daylight within their grasp. Before she could reply, the bandit answered for her, lending an air of mystery around her form. She couldn't have been more than a few years older than Quinn, but her eyes. They spoke of something far beyond what she should've seen in her lifetime. Her gaze snapped to the Bandit as he said, the quiver heard in his voice.
"I did. If only you were in it.." She drawled as the Bandit quaked in his boots. "My reputation precedes me." She slid from her horse's saddle and grabbed the reins, draping it over a bush as she took her pack and bedroll down. "I'll tell you my name if you tell me yours." She said, blue eyes staring at Gabriel over the haunches of her prong-horse.

“Gabriel.” He said to her as he found some dry wood and took his heavy-duty hammer hatchet. He was using the hatchet wedge to chop the piece of desert driftwood from flash floods.

"Grace." She didn't supply anything else towards her identity. He knew her name and a little bit of her reputation from Bard.

He took a flint rock from his pack. Using his knife to shower sparks on dry tumbleweed for kindling and started a fire. He took his large duffle bag from the back of his saddle and let Ripley free from the sled. Gabriel noticed a brown wyrm slithering next to him. He slowly pulled his knife out. With a quick stab, Gabriel stuck the blade into the wyrm’s head, killing it. He picked it up on his knife. He was slitting the wyrm down the belly and pulling the skin off. Gabriel stuck the cleaned wyrm on a stick and started cooking the lizard.
As Gabriel relieved a wyrm of its life and skinned it on the spot, she grabbed some food from her pack and fed and watered her horse before considering her chores with it done for the night.

“Here’s a story Bard doesn’t know,” Gabriel said. His voice was low as he fed the fire and twisted the snake. Retrieving a small canteen from his bag, Gabriel took a swig handing it to Grace. The contents inside Moonshine. “There was this cannibal chief named Victor. He was hunting me near the crossroads.” Gabriel started his story as the fire burned.

Unrolling her bedroll, she sat down upon it and settled in, gaze shifting back to Gabriel as he told his story."Cannibals are disgusting." She began unbraiding her ginger locks as she listened. Gabriel turned the stick with the lizard on it, letting tonight's supper cook evenly. He put some wood on the fire. The flames were licking the air as it burned low.
“I was with this young hunter. His name was Milo, I believe.” Gabriel said as he stared into the flames. “He was so eager to catch this Victor he rushed in before I had a chance to tell him we needed to sneak around. He killed five of them before I got to their hunting camp. The others were just getting out of their tents, so I killed them. I let Milo and Victor wrestle for a bit. Milo was a tough one. He got over Victor and sunk his knife into Victor’s chest. That was the last time I saw Milo. I wonder what happened to him.” Gabriel pondered he had no idea who he was talking to or that Milo had a family, but she reminded Gabriel of Milo. Grace sat back, taking out a whetstone as she started sharpening her knife, glancing up at Gabriel as he told his story. Grace didn't say anything for the longest time. She was studying the reflection of the flames in his gaze, his body language and his facial expressions. There was nothing. Gabriel kept the face of a statue. She glanced back down at her knife as she ran the edge of her blade along the whetstone.
"He was injured and escaped back home. If you had stayed with him, he'd still be alive. He got executed in front of me. He was my brother." She flipped the knife up and flung it at him, burying it with expert precision at Gabriel's feet. Hatred burned in her gaze as she remembered the bandits that destroyed her family, destroyed her life. Her form coiled where it sat, only to relax as the sound of many reached her ears. She leaned forward and grabbed her knife again, pushing to her feet with her blade at the ready. What angered her more is he didn't flinch.

The sound of dragon-claws digging into the hard earth in the distance getting closer. Not the sound of a single drake, but Big Tom's hunting-pack is approaching. Four drakes sleek in their four-legged design. The scales alternating between dark and light gave excellent camouflage when hunting—ranging from dark greyish-green leaves to vibrant yellows and golds. Whether it be men or dragons beside him, Big Tom is never alone. The beasts are silent in the night, waiting to be unleashed by the will of their master. He approaches from behind their camp, halting his pack with a gesture. The next sound is his deep baritone, a voice used to command during a chaotic raid. “Hey, there,” he calls out, though going no closer so as not to startle Gabriel or Grace. Four drakes, and Big Tom himself, riding a wyvern bred for the purpose, but no men. It also exposes him somewhat, with Kassandra's tribe going to war, but he isn't going quietly if this is an ambush.

Gabriel listened to Grace; the anger burned, but Gabriel didn’t let it bother him. The wasteland was a terrible place. He didn’t flinch when Grace threw the knife into the ground at his feet. Grace grabbed the knife and held it at the ready. Ripley returned and started to emit a lower rumbling growl.
“Shht! Ripley.” Gabriel said he put his hand up to Grace as he stood and looked at Tom on his large Wrym. He waved to Thomas. “Good to see you, Tom,” Gabriel said, getting up and giving Tom a wave. Gabriel’s drake went to lay down. “You happen to spot a bandit come this way with a girl, about 18 years old. Blonde hair?” Gabriel asked; he would owe Thomas a favour. Gabriel doesn’t give out often, going to his bag that he had rested on the ground. Gabriel grabbed his map of the wasteland, sticking a torch into the ground for light.

Thomas Drake doesn't dismount immediately. He watches Grace for a moment, watches as she tosses the knife at Gabriel's feet, allowing himself a smile hidden by the shadows. Thomas watches her still as she rises, knife in hand, ready to fight. He has no fear, especially not with his drakes here, but he likes her spirit. He decides that one day, he would like to see her hunt.
“East of here,” says Tom slowly, pointing on the map, “found tracks leading off, though they'll have blown away soon enough.” Tom tosses down what appears to be a dry, cracked leather waterskin into Gabriel's torchlight. 'Found that where I found the tracks. Drake's got a keener nose than you have eyes.'

Grace acknowledged Gabriel's stay motion, but she would be foolish to drop the knife, and so she just shifted cold blue eyes in Drake's direction, watching the exchange between them. She studied the man as he studied her, her gaze going momentarily to the many drakes that formed around him, shifting and occasionally snarling. Grace ran her tongue against her teeth, taking in the wyvern he dismounted. If Big Tom chose to attack, she wouldn't have much time to put her arm up, but she had no expectations of that. Her gaze shifted off towards the east as Grace stepped out of the firelight momentarily, skirting the edge. She was restless.

"Any blood in the tracks?" She shifted again, crouching as she listened to the two of them. She resumed sharpening her knife, testing the blade against her thumb momentarily. Gabriel looked at his map, bandit camps marked throughout the desert of the wasteland. The waterskin looked old and well used. Gabriel knew what Thomas meant and looked up at him.
“How are things between you and Kassandra? Is she still on the warpath?” Gabriel asked; maybe there would be something that Gabriel could help him with on that front. Gabriel would have also used this information to keep off of Kassandra’s radar.

”Some blood, not much, and not far. It looks like a thorn in the foot but got patched or covered later. Might be some wild drakes on that trail now,” Big Tom answers Grace. His drake skin chaps and boots seem to glisten in the light of the fire. He then looks to Gabriel.
“She's borne fangs at all of us. She says she'll rip the hide right off me if I don't give her what she wants. She tells me she'll make me watch her eat my drakes. We keep a wary eye, Gabriel. Her scouts watch that country. Might be better if there were fewer of them; would make both our hunts easier.” Big Tom never asks. He expects everyone to know what he wants. Thomas will suggest if they had a preference. If it is important enough to be clear, he'll command instead, which won't get him anywhere.

Grace Small amount of blood. That was much better than she was expecting. To her, it meant that perhaps Quinn might not be hurt. Now, if there were wild drakes, that changed the stakes a bit unless the Leader who had Quinn were able to meet up with some of his allies. That would put them in a worse position. It would've been more concerning otherwise. The rest of the information was more than just concerning. "Sounds like a shit bunch of problems." She put the whetstone back in her pack and sheathed her knife. Sitting down again, she leaned forward and stripped off a few chunks of the lizard as she glanced at Gabriel to see what his plans were. "Best bet seems that we should avoid them altogether if we can. Perhaps even travel by night to avoid their scouts and muffle any metal on our beasts." Then there was the danger of freezing temperatures, dips in the land that could lame an animal, and not seeing. "How far are her scouts from here?"
"Maybe a half-day ride northeast from here. Her forces get deeper into my territory where we are fighting the Ashbourne tribe." Thomas says as he looks at Grace while Gabriel makes a navigation path.
Gabriel took in what Thomas said to Grace; there was no doubt that wild drakes were out sniffing the trail. Gabriel took into account that scouts were off watching the land. Gabriel might have felt guilty for Thomas, but he didn’t show it. When Thomas told him that the fewer scouts Kassandra has, the easier it would be for the both of them. Gabriel knew what Thomas was saying and would figure out a way to deal with their familiar foe. “Thank you, Thomas. I will take care of Kassandra,” Gabriel told Thomas Grace came to the map, eating some of the improvised meal and adding in her opinion. Gabriel welcomed the suggestion of riding at night. ”Kassandra’s territory spans through the eastern wasteland. Her hunting grounds are here, here and here.” Gabriel pointed out areas surrounding the north and south side of Jericho and the Crossroads. ”We can cut through the whispering dunes and be a day's ride from the Crossroads if we leave tonight. Gabriel started to pack up his things.

Gabriel snuffed the fire out, tossing the remains of the lizard on his stick to Ripley. He looked at Grace. ”I am sorry for what happened to your brother. But this is the life of a bounty hunter.” Gabriel spoke coldly, his voice dead as his emotionless face. But that was the only thing he could tell her, giving her insight into what it was like to hunt bandits in the wasteland. Gabriel packed his horse and mounted up. He was looking at Thomas. ”I wish you well on your hunts, Thomas. I hope they are bountiful.” Gabriel said, giving Big Tom a wave.

Thomas Drake watches the two plan out their route, stepping back into the shadows. One of his drakes only now shows signs of restlessness, wanting to be hunting again. Thomas looks at it wordlessly, and it slumps like a scolded child. He returns his gaze to them. 'Yes...we will feast in your honour, should you remove Kassandra's fangs from our throat. Go swiftly, and hunt well.' There are hints of a smile in his partially shrouded face, hints that disappear into the darkness as he turns and leads his pack into the Wastelands night, returning to his patrols and his hunts, leaving them only with the sound of drake-claws scrabbling. He has a warning for his folk; he isn't sure how well Gabriel - or Grace, for that matter - might be able to discern his tribe from Kassandra's on a long, dusty trail while driven by vengeance and need. Many of those who settle the Wastelands doesn’t bother with such distinctions, after all. Gabriel and Grace are to be left alone and tracked to the edge of their lands.

Grace considered their odds of survival. She took another chunk of the lizard and chewed on it as she moved to put the saddle back on her hobbled horse. Grace groaned under her breath. She was tired. Grace did like the idea of picking off scouts, however. She packed up her bedroll and anything else she had taken off. Grace’s gaze shifted to Gabriel, returning his cold stare for one that would've chilled someone to the bone. She got up onto her mount and settled back, her horse sidestepping as she considered Gabriel.
"Don't worry about me, Gabriel. I revel each life I snuff out." She turned her gaze back towards their visitor, watching as his beasts disappeared into the night. Without a word, she guided her horse with her knees towards the east.

Gabriel watched Thomas disappear into the darkness of the wasteland returning to his duties. Gabriel had a plan for dealing with Kassandra. Grace wasn’t going to like it, but he had a plan. As they saddled up, he looked at Grace; he gave a smirk and soft chuckle with what she said. Gabriel snapped Jasper’s reins and got him into a fast speed. Ripley followed along between Gabriel and Grace as they approached the dune’s bottom, where they made their camp. By morning, if they rode straight through the night, Gabriel and Grace would be able to make it into Kassandra’s territory undetected. “Just don’t shoot anyone,” Gabriel said to her with a smile. Milo’s little brother is the girl the wasteland’s new rumours. “Small world,” Gabriel said to himself.

Grace reached into her pack and came out with material to deaden her horse's tack and saddle. She continued along, glancing at Jasper as he passed her. Grace at this point as it disappeared below the dunes. She reached into her pack again and wrapped herself up in a cloak of sorts to keep her warm, fitting her fingers with gloves and a hat on her head. It could get brutally cold after the sunset, after all. "Shooting is enjoyable, though." She said reasonably enough, relaxing as she let her horse follow the others. She directed it by her knees and heels if it started flagging along to nip at some vegetation.
Gabriel and Grace ride through the night to get past Kassandra's territory. She has invaded Thomas Drake's territory at his weakest side, where she works to ally with the Ashbourne, who have loyalty only to themselves. So far, her offers of allegiance met with silence, and she grows more impatient from this silence. Soon the Ashbourne chief will have to make a choice.