Thriller Wasteland Samurai Motorcycle Club

“To serve is duty, duty is samurai, samurai is immortality.”
James Clavell, Shogun

“I be the body dropper, the heartbeat stopper,
Child educator, plus head amputator.”
GZA, Liquid Swords​

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Somewhere nearby...
Some time soon...

The desert stretched on forever, and the rider followed its track. The motorcycle he rode on, the engine that powered it, was the only sound for miles, save for the rattle of a snake or the cawing of a crow. Vultures watched from above as the rider and his machine rumbled past. Their stomachs were empty, as the bones of their past meals decorated the landscape alongside cacti and tumbleweeds. They followed the rider, for they knew wherever he roamed, death was close behind.

The rider wore a leather jacket on his body, and the primary design was patched on the back. It was the image of a human skull wearing an ornate kabuto helmet, and above the skull was the word Samurai printed on a long patch that went from shoulder to shoulder. Below the skull was a patch of another word: Wasteland.

The rider carried two weapons on his person. The first was a dagger, holstered on his right hip, and the second was a katana, holstered on his left, long and powerful enough to stab through multiple men at once. Both weapons were clean now and would reflect the sun’s harsh rays were they unsheathed, but they were not always this way. Many coats of blood had been wiped from their surfaces, and many more would be.

The rider’s hair was long and grey, and it was tied tightly into a bun behind his head. He wore sunglasses to protect eyes that held the fire of a man who’d lived more lives than he cared to count in his sixty-two years. His beard was long and braided down the length of his chest, and it whipped in the wind as he rode.

After some time had passed, the rider came upon a large tree that cast a larger shadow on the terrain. Beneath this tree, sheltered by the shade, sat a man with his legs crossed and his eyes closed, as still as a statue. He wore a jacket nearly identical to that of the rider’s, and a sword rested in the sand next to him. When the rider approached, the man opened his eyes, and bowed his upper body until his forehead touched his ankles in reverence.

“Shogun,” he said. His voice was coarse. He looked to be about half the rider’s age.

“Hezekiah,” the older man spoke. He was tall, thin but powerful, and his voice was deep and commanded respect. In the Old World, his accent may have been considered southern, like a cowboy’s.

“I take it the vote is over,” said the seated man.

“It is.”

“Well?”

“You’re to commit seppuku.”

The man closed his eyes and pursed his lips, his head hanging. “Shogun, I swear to you-“

“The club’s spoken, Hezekiah. Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

Tears began to fall down the younger man’s face. His body broke out in a cold sweat and he began to tremble in the desert heat. Still he remained sitting in the sand, legs crossed. “You will be my second?” he asked, voice quivering.

“I will.”

“Thank you.” Hezekiah reached over with a shaky hand and grabbed his short sword by the blade, slowly moved it in front of his body and faced the hilt outward so that the tip of the sword touched his stomach, which was bare beneath the unzipped jacket. His breathing intensified, and he was openly weeping now.

The man called Shogun slowly moved behind Hezekiah, his hand resting gently on the hilt of his katana.

With a loud, ferocious scream of anguish, Hezekiah plunged the sword into his own abdomen, and held it there for a few seconds as blood spilled out over his hands and his life began to leave him.

With blinding speed, the Shogun’s sword hissed through the air and Hezekiah’s head fell from his shoulders, leaving a trail of blood as it toppled lifeless through the sand. The body fell from its seated position to the earth with a soft thud.

The Shogun removed a piece of cloth that hung out of the back pocket of his jeans and carefully wiped the blood from his sword.

The vultures circled overhead.

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Welcome to Wasteland Samurai Motorcycle Club. This game contains an amalgamation of various influences from post-apocalyptic, western, and samurai fiction. It takes place in an unnamed location at an unspecified time, decades after a catastrophe has decimated the earth. It is a fun, violent, character-driven tale of a motorcycle club made up of warriors who practice their own interpretations of the ancient art and ideals of the Samurai.

The New World​

Since the beginning of what some deem the apocalypse, or the catastrophe, or the decimation, call it what you will, the world we find ourselves in now has devolved into a lawless land of chaos, divided into two distinct territories:

The Wasteland

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Comprised mostly of arid deserts, this is the primary setting for our game. There are various peaceful settlements scattered throughout the land, made up of all kinds of colorful characters, some of whom you will meet over the course of your journey. However, the land is also plagued by the presence of bandits and marauders, tribes of immoral murderers and robbers who seek anarchy and destruction. You will also come across these groups, and your skills as both a Samurai warrior and negotiator may be put to the test.

The City

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A place that has taken on a mythical element among those who dwell in the Wasteland, the City is where most of the remnants of the Old World rest. Not much is known about this land of asphalt and skyscrapers, and it is all but impossible to enter, as huge walls of concrete and wire have been erected that surround the entire landscape, with highly patrolled outposts guarding every entrance. A very small group of suppliers are able to enter and leave at specified times when transporting goods to and from the Wasteland.

The Old World

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Since it has been at least a couple generations since the end of the Old World, some of its knowledge and culture has been lost to time in the Wasteland. While some books and other materials from past civilizations have made it out of the City, many of these relics are foreign to the residents of the Wasteland. Likewise, the advanced technology from the Old World is also scarce. While some robots and advanced weaponry, vehicles, and other technologies have been obtained by some, these instances are rare.

The Samurai

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The Samurai are known throughout the Wasteland as a group of sword wielding bikers who roam the deserts as guardians and protectors of the innocent and defenseless. It is this group around which our game centers. They follow an ancient ideal from the Old World called Bushido, an unwritten code of honor, respect, and loyalty, and despite their necessarily violent existence, temper their minds with wisdom, patience, and serenity. Other than this ethical belief, there is no one defining characteristic of the Samurai, aside from the decorated leather jackets they wear. Throughout the club’s decades long history, their members have ranged from being as young as sixteen to as old as ninety, and they are blind to gender and ethnicity. All that is required is uncompromising loyalty and the strength to protect the Wasteland. Samurai must not take their responsibilities lightly. The club adheres to their code very strictly, and betrayal or dishonor can be met with the harshest of penalties.

The club’s hierarchy starts at the top with the Shogun, the leader and final decision maker. Below that is the Daimyo, the club’s second in command and closest advisor to the Shogun. After the Daimyo come the Samurai, the regular members of the club. Below them are the Prospects, new members of the club who haven’t yet earned the rank of Samurai.

For the current roster of Samurai, see the Resource thread here.

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Character Sheet:
Name:
Age:
Rank:
Appearance:
Personality:
Equipment: (Every Samurai is equipped with at least a long sword/katana and a short sword/dagger. Any additional equipment is up to you.)
Biography:
Goals: (For the GM’s eyes only. Let me know what you’d like your character to accomplish over the course of the game, and any plot threads you’d like to see unfold. I can’t promise anything, but I will try my best to work them into the story.)

Rules:
1: PM character sheets to me for approval before posting them in the thread.
2: All posts must follow TFN’s terms of service.
3: Godmoding in combat is allowed to a limited degree. Big group of generic bad guys? Bash some heads. Big bad boss? Maybe not so much.
4: If a player fails to respond in a reasonable timeframe and hinders the progress of the game as a result, I will take over the character in a limited fashion until that player has returned.
5: My inbox is always open. If you have any problems, concerns, or suggestions, feel free to send them my way!

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Character Sheet:
Name: "The Khan"
Age: Unknown, appears to be in his thirties
Rank: Samurai
Appearance:

Personality: Considered to be one of the more violent of the Samurai bikers, "The Khan" is a dangerous and quiet member of the Samurai MC. While he follows their code to an extent, he has been known to go too far.
Equipment: Katana, short dagger, sawn-off shotgun
Biography: "The Khan" joined the Samurai MC after his mysterious exit from a former and incredibly violent MC. His new life in the Samurai MC allowed him to have a fresh start. Now, he specializes in "honor kills", taking out different targets across the waste for the sake of the betterment of mankind.

 

GM approved

Name: Lia
Age: 24
Rank: Samurai
Appearance:

Personality: Shy and insecure in most situations that do not include battle and killing. She really considers everything but combat a waste of her time. She is a loner, having few human relations except her strong bond to the Shogun.

Equipment: A Hatori Hanzo Katana, a dagger, two silenced guns, a fast Kawasaki bike

Biography: Lia was trained in the art of the sword and the Samurai from early age by her father. He was himself a great swordsman and practioner of various martial arts. He compensated the disappointment of having a daughter instead of a boy by training her even harder and more brutal than he would have trained a son. Lia - who has long left her birthdate behind - wears the scars to proof it.

One night, when she sneaked out to dance with friends she returned home and her house was burning. she found her dead mother and wounded mother among many slain enemies. He was mortally wounded and bestowed his most priced possession to Lia by giving her the family sword, made by legendary Hatori Hanzo himself. She took it and went looking for the murderers of her father. She never found them. Instead the Shogun found her and found a samurai soul in her. He took her into his gang and she had a hard time, making her place among them. But that changed once one of the more overeager members challenged her for the sword. She quickly slay the challenger and earned the respect of the others once they saw her skills with the blade.

She has since then left no challenge unanswered and has picked usually those assignments, that promised worthy opponents. She is obsessed with personal combat, only feeling truly alive when she fights for life and death. A true follower of Bushido she has adopted the Hagakure, the code of the Samurai as her philosophy, accepting her death and fighting without fear. Shy and silent, she becomes a true killing machine once she faces enemies ion combat, where she shows her true nature. She knows no mercy or doubt. The word of her Shogun is her law.

 

ReyTed Approved!!

Name: Raaphael Winsoon
Age: 37
Rank: Daimyo
Appearance:

Personality: Calm, collected, and lives her life according to the machiavellian ideal that one must always do what is prudent for what they want to accomplish. She can be called violent, loving, nurturing, careful, aggressive, or ruthless. In truth, she is all of those things, whenever she needs to be; whatever it takes to ensure the survival of her and her kind.
Equipment: One katana named Jugo

-Two long barrel revolvers
-Naginata named Naraku
-Long chopper nicknamed Wildfire

Biography: Her name is Raaphael. She was born to the wasteland and protected by it by parents that she never knew beyond the names of Raph and Win. Even at the tender age of 6, she knew that in her small community, there was not enough to go around. Her father, Raph, scavenged metal to trade and hunted wild dogs and coyotes for food. Her mother, Win, was too weak and sick to contribute. But Raph tried. Raaphael cared for her parents, but by the age of 11 understood that in order for them to survive, they would need more for themselves. Their sacrifice and caring for their daughter held them back, so she relieved them of their burden and abandoned them. For her early teen years, she traveled from settlement to settlement, robbing and scavenging until she encountered the Shogun of the Samurai MC. She saw his bike and had become mesmerized by it. She wanted it and tried to steal it. He caught her and offered her a choice: Continue to live as she was or give herself over to something larger than herself. She replied that they were just pretty words he was using, but she asked if the bike came along with it. He said no, but promised her that if she was willing to put in the work that she could build one herself. The rest...was history.

She joined the club as a prospect, trained under each member of the club. She was a full samurai by the age of 24. She has a gift of riding and has built a legendary chopper that is said to be among the fastest in the wasteland. She is devoutly loyal to the club, but lives away from the rest of them in a house she built to house collectibles she gathers in her travels. She believes in their mission, but seeks more for the club than just dispensing justice.

 

APPROVED BY THE MOST HONORABLE SHOGUN!
Name: Kazan aka “The Saint”
Age: 28
Rank: Samurai
Appearance:


Personality: If the art of Bushido were a person it would be Kazan. The eight virtues of Bushido are instilled in Kazan and he strives to live by them: Justice, Courage, Mercy, Politeness, Honesty, Honor, Loyalty, and Self Control. With a no-nonsense attitude, he does not take kindly to those that fail to live up to the code. Kazan is a man of few words and says only what is necessary.
Equipment: Katana, Tanto, AR-15, Sig P320 (handgun). “The Bronze Dragon” bike seen in above photo
Biography:
Kazan was not always the skilled samurai that he is today. His parents were savagely killed when he was ten and he only lived thanks to the Motorcycle club intervening just in time. However, his parents’ killers escaped. He was then taken in by the Motorcycle Club and taught the Bushido arts. Deeply loyal to the Motorcycle club, to the Shogun and Daimyo, Kazan serves at their will.

After proving himself more than worthy he graduated from being a prospect to a samurai, which is when he was gifted his legendary motorcycle: "The Bronze Dragon". Despite its size and bulky look, it is one of the fastest bikes there is. Fast, Powerful and reliable there are few bikes that are able to meet its speed and ferocity.

After becoming a samurai, Kazan quickly earned the nickname "The Saint" for his steadfast belief, practice and teachings of Bushido. Kazan fueled by a righteous fury seeks to find those that slaughtered his parents and make sure the same never happens to anyone else. A quiet rage dwells within Kazan and should it grow it could consume everything.

 

Presenting, your Shogun.

Name: Marcus Rhodes

Age: 62

Rank: Shogun

Appearance:
The last known photo of Marcus, taken some ten years ago. His hair has further grayed, and he now has a long beard that he sports in a braid, like so.


Personality: Quietly charismatic, Marcus’ presence always demands attention from his MC, whether he wants it or not. He can be a man of few words at times, and is always respectful of his fellow Samurai. But when crossed, his fury has been known to instill fear into the hardest of souls.

Equipment: Marcus keeps a katana and a dagger on his person at all times, and occasionally carries a pistol in the back of his jeans.


Marcus’ motorcycle, The Emperor


Biography: Not much is known about Marcus Rhodes’ childhood. He was found wandering the Wasteland, stealing to survive and fighting when he was caught, by a man called Blondie when he was a young teenager. Blondie saw raw potential in this wild, angry boy, and made him a Prospect in his Samurai Motorcycle Club.

Under Blondie’s strict tutelage, Marcus learned to tame his emotions and to apply the code of Bushido to his everyday life. Though he clashed with other members of the MC at the outset, he gradually fell in line and began to earn their respect.

Eventually, Marcus rose in the ranks of the club, and was promoted to become Blondie’s Daimyo when he was around forty years of age. At this point, Marcus had fathered two sons, Ethan and Joshua, with Blondie’s daughter, Juniper, and was grooming them to become Samurai themselves. Blondie and Marcus had become two of the most respected men in the Wasteland, and grew the Samurai into a venerable band of protectors.

Tragedy struck when Juniper was killed during a bandit attack on the Samurai’s headquarters, and Blondie retired from the MC, not having the heart for it anymore after his daughter’s death. The club unanimously elected Marcus to become the new Shogun, and despite the pain of losing the woman he loved, he accepted.

Years later, Marcus lost both of his sons as well, and now he rides as the last Rhodes of the Samurai Motorcycle Club, leading them as their Shogun.

 

Character Sheet
Name: Treka LaRue
Age: 21
Rank: Things. I find things. People, parts, doesn't matter.
Appearance:5'1" Short. Slender. Fast.


Personality: To say she has a split personality is understating the fact. When she is on the hunt, either for a person or thing, she is focused, intense, and straight to the point. She is also a good electronic/mechanical genius. She can swap, pull, yank, modify any piece of equipment to fill a need. Anytime else, she can be either a delicate flower or a knifes edge. It depends on the mood swing, and it swings quite a bit.
Equipment: one katana, A short sword, multiple daggers (13), caltrops, wrist crossbow pistol (Paralytic tipped), one long-range rifle. Old compass, pair of binoculars (Only one side works)has distance finder built-in. A dog whistle and regular whistle. foot pack and rations, water condenser kit. various tarps and skins. A toolkit, various wires, and sparks plugs. A tiny plum tree. A magazine, with pictures of various old motorcycles who designs she has studied intensely.
Biography: Treka had a normal life, traveling the wastelands with a tribe of nomads. One of them was considered a shaman of sorts and took to training. Treka. It was on one of those wanderings, that the others were attacked and killed. She tracked them. Every single one of them. And she killed them, one at a time. After the last killing, the shaman disappeared, leaving her alone. Until she found DOG.

She rides the wastelands, in nomad territories. She is an excellent tracker. She witnessed horrors and It left her damaged. She adapted. Known triggers is anyone who kills innocents and defenseless. She travels with DOG. Dog is a huge fricking canine. It is definitely a dog mixed with something. Dog only allows Treka to go near it. Treka has taught the dog quite a few silent hand signals and they work very efficiently as a pair. In return, Treka has armored Dog as well, in order to protect him. On foot, Treka can keep up with Dog for short distances. Dog also hunts for food for them both. She does not mind tracking and scavenging for the Sumauri, for it gives her purpose, and keeps her mind from wandering with other thoughts. She does not take orders to kill, unless very special circumstances.

Bike:
Specialty built, handles desert setting. Covers on the back can be pulled over to provide shelter during storms. Modified for speed and mobility. Entire bike roughed out to prevent any glare or glint from sunlight. Her bike is also modified with several scoopers in the back, that with the flick of a switch, and throw up dirt and other matter, in order to make a smokescreen. It also tows a small low slung sled/trailer. It carries extra gear and is DOGS bed. She also has a remote kill switch for her bike.

 

Part I​

Chapter I: Atonement

The Shogun called Marcus awoke on his own. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of the small room in which he slept, the fan wobbling back and forth above him as it spun, and he wondered if one day it would fall on top of him and break a rib or two. He rubbed sleep out of his eyes and sat up in the bed, reaching back and tying his long, disheveled hair into a bun as he always did. He swung his legs over the side, reached down and grabbed his plain black tee shirt off the floor and put it on, pulling his braided beard through the neck hole. He got up off the bed and sat down beside it on the floor, crossing his legs and closing his eyes in meditation.

He thought about Hezekiah, and repressed his anger. The boy had brought dishonor to the Samurai by raping that girl, the daughter of their supplier. No act of seppuku could take that away. Marcus hoped that the punishment would be enough for them to get back in the good graces of the poor girl’s father. In a land such as this, they needed all the allies they could get, and to lose such a significant one over the impulsive act of a single member would be detrimental. But Marcus understood. In his position, perhaps, it would take many more deaths than one to overcome such an act against family. Against his children. He quickly pushed down any thoughts about Ethan and Joshua, and the pain it threatened to bring to the surface.

After relieving himself in the small bathroom and scarfing down the rest of his leftover dinner from the night before, Marcus walked out from the back room and into the clubhouse, which was once a general store with a garage attached to it. The Samurai had repurposed it years ago into their clubhouse when their old one had gone up in flames, and used the garage for their bikes. They’d renamed the place Blondie’s, after their old Shogun.

The large room had a pool table off to the side with neon signs on the walls, and a small bar to the left with a refrigerator filled with whatever consumable drinks they could find, along with water from their well. In the room off to the right, which could be seen through the clear windows, was the Samurai’s meeting room, where a long, wooden table sat with a number of chairs surrounding it. The last time Marcus had been in that room was the day before, when the club had decided Hezekiah’s fate. As that was the final order of official business, there was nothing mandatory that would require the presence of the members this morning. But there was always at least a few that would show up anyway, and Marcus wondered if any of the members had spent the night in the bunkhouse behind the garage. Over the years, some of them even used it as a temporary home from time to time.

Marcus looked outside and saw the morning sun peaking over the horizon, painting the desert with its crimson rays. It was early yet. So he headed over to the garage where his chopper rested and grabbed a box of tools off one of the counters. As he sat down for some routine maintenance on the Emperor, he flipped on the small radio on the ground next to him, wondering if anyone from the MC would show up soon and accompany him to meet with the supplier.

Tag: @Master Vo'Un'Var, @RachelTyrell, @The Jedi in the Pumas, @Shadowsun, @Ktala

Hey all you good boys and girls, it’s your friend the Sandman here again on this fine morning in the Wasteland, sittin’ here with a big fat bowl of the good stuff gettin’ ready to serve you up with some sweet nirvana for your ear holes. I don’t know where you are and you don’t know where I am, yet here we are together thanks to the magic of radio, and my friends that is truly a beautiful thing. I hope my sugary voice finds you well, and if it does, keep doin’ what you do baby, ‘cause you know what they say, if it ain’t broke it don’t need no fixin’. Now for what you really wanna hear, I got a little record here from the old days that might sound familiar to some of you longtime listeners, and it’s certainly special to me. And remember, those folks in the city might have it nice and pretty but you know what they ain’t got is me. Keep on keepin’ on.

 

Lia
The Club House

Lia stood up before the sun. Resting was like death to her and she had neither done anything to deserve rest or an honorable death yet. She usually walked out into the desert and trained for two hours, then meditated when the first sunrays illuminated the land. It was her favorite time of the day and she had today enjoyed the routine.

The day before had given her a feeling of unrest she now had purged from her body and soul. Hezekiah had been granted the death of a Samurai, something she had voted against. Rape was a crime unworthy of a Samurai. She would have loved to offer her service and execute justice herself or die trying. The club had decided otherwise and so had the Shogun. Whatever he said was law. Acceptance of his command was easy for her, acceptance of Hez crime had not been.

She walked back to the club house, where she had slept after the long club meeting. Later today she would return to the simple small house not far away she called home. The Shogun was up and she only greeted him with a respectful nod. She did not talk when she had nothing to say. Pleasantries and polite greetings had no meaning for her.

Walking over to her own bike, she put her dagger and sword away and polished the dust of it. The choppers the others preferred were much to slow for her taste, so she had chosen a Kawasaki Ninja as her transport and had taken it from a slain enemy after an honorable fight.



She had not given it a name or had participated in races of any sort. She simply felt no need to proof anything or satisfy her ego. It meant nothing to her. Most things everybody enjoyed meant nothing to her. Once everything was stowed away she sat on her bike and watched the Shogun. He was going to meet their supplier. The father of the raped daughter. It would be a delicate and diplomatic task awaiting him, which were both things she was little help with. If he gave the slightest sign he expected the need for an escort she would accompany him of course. He knew that. He did not need to give orders to her.

Tag: @Reynar_Tedros

 

Kazan, The Saint
Kazan’s Home

Kazan woke early, as he always did and began to prepare himself for the day ahead. Kazan was a man of ritual and always began his day by cleaning and polishing his armor. This not only reinforced disciple into him but was often a way for him to relax and unwind. Besides Kazan did not like to take his armor off once he had donned it on.

As Kazan polished his armor his mind began to wander to the events that had transpired over the last couple of days. He was ashamed by the fact that one of their own, a samurai, had not only disregarded the Bushido code but had brought great dishonor to the motorcycle club through a truly horrific act. Hezekiah actions were unforgiveable, and seppuku was arguably too good for him, but he was still a samurai. It was only just he at least die with some small amount of honor. Kazan wanted to make sure that such a transgression would never take place again.

Once he was finished polishing, he then fitted his armor and stepped out of his house. His house, if you could call it that, is a little run down and rickety, but it serves its purpose.

Kazan’s home

Kazan began to wonder over to the clubhouse, striding through the desert, fully clad in his armor. Even though it was still early morning with the sun only beginning to rear its head Kazan was baking inside his armor. It was not a comfortable experience, it never was. Sweat began build on the brow of his forehead and trail down his back, creating an comfortable layer of moisture between his skin and his under armor clothing. Despite this Kazan never complained about his discomfort, after all to do so would be impolite.

Kazan knew full well the difficulties that Hezekiah’s actions would bring for the club. If they lost their supplier it would be dark days ahead. He reasoned that the shogun would want at least couple people to accompany him to meet with the supplier. Although Kazan did not speak much, he might be a calming presence for the father as a symbol that the Club was still following the Bushido Code.

He was called The Saint for a reason after all.

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Blondie’s Garage

The Saint arrived at the garage knowing that he might come across the Shogun, it was not uncommon for him to maintain his bike in the morning. Marcus was one of the few people that knew what Kazan looked like and as such Kazan would often take off his armor to repair his bike when it was just them.

Kazan paused outside the garage door and breathed in. He could smell similar to maple syrup, although Kazan did not know what that was. He did know what the smell meant however, one of the bikes had a coolant leak. If left unchecked the engine would most likely overheat and give out. Hopefully it was not Kazan's own bike.

Indeed, the Shogun was maintaining his bike, The Emperor, when Kazan arrived. It was one of the few bikes that was faster the Kazan’s own, a fact that he had no issue with.

“Greetings Marcus-sama” spoke Kazan bowing toward his Shogun.

After waiting for Marcus' response Kazan took off his armor placing it carefully on the armor stand in the garage. He then began to inspect his own bike, The Bronze Dragon. It was as he feared his bike was the one with the coolant leak.

This may take some time

TAG: @Reynar_Tedros

 

GM approved


Character Sheet:
Name: Christophe or short Snake
Age: 37
Rank: Prospect
Appearance:


Personality: Cold, calculating and remorseless, he also is tortured and feels the need to atone for his many crimes that keep him awake at night.
Equipment: Katana, two silenced Glock 17, a M82 sniper rifle (armor penetrating), a variety of submachine guns, assault rifles, hand grenades, three knives, no dagger (as he is not the rank of a Samurai yet)
Biography:

Christophe has been the Snake for as long as he could remember. His parents died young and he learned to survive on the streets. He killed the first human at the age of twelve over a fight for an apple. He stabbed him with a glass chard into the artery at his neck and watched him bleed to death.

He killed countless people since then. In the beginning he only killed men, but survival was hard and so soon he turned to rob and steel and leave no witnesses behind. He killed women. He killed their kids. Soon he got a reputation as a cold hearted monster and to his surprise that made him not an outcast, it made him a recruit. He was barely eighteen, when he was recruited by the Blood Hounds, a very ruthless gang of criminals. Quickly he rose through their ranks, as they trained him in more and more sophisticated methods of murder. Eventually even the leader of the gang gave him more and more attention. Lennard Z was a monster, a devil of a man. In the boy he saw a kindred spirit and perfected the boys training with the skills Lennard had acquired in some military career. He was affectionate to Snake, provided him with shelter, best food and women. What he did not understand was that Snake felt no affection towards him. For the young man everyone was a potential future victim, a potential enemy. Ironheart, the Bloodhounds second in command soon learned that the hard way. When his jealousy turned into a threat, or at least Snake perceived it as such, he had a terrible accident on one of their raids. Everybody knew it was Snake, but nobody dared to speak out against their Leaders favorite.

Snake kept on killing, turning down his mentor LZ when he asked him to be his second-in-command for the lack of action he would see in that position. Even outside his gangs activities he found victims. Slaying men for their bikes, boots, money or just because they had looked the wrong way at him or showed him no respect. He began preferring the Katana he had acquired from one such victim to the gun, as it felt more close and personal. He trained and killed for years, striving for an ideal of a perfect killer, a God of Death.

Then he met Julia and things changed. She seemed to respect the man he was, accept the monster he had become and strangely found a way to love him anyway. A year they spend together and it was the year he killed nobody. His inner beast seemed to slumber, probably soon sleep and never wake up again.

LZ did not appreciate this change in who he considered his adopted son. He did what bloodhounds did when someone disturbed their circles. He hunted Julia down, had his men rape her and murder her slowly. In his madness LZ expected Snake to accept this and return to his old ways. He was half right.

After a week Snake had killed every member of the gang he could find. The headquarters he blew up. The families he hunted down. He did not kill them though. Somehow he remembered the dream of having a family with Julia and it felt like a betrayal to kill an innocent. So he just left messages to the wife’s, that he would spare them if their husbands met him in one-on-one combat. Most tried to cheat. It did not help any of them. LZ himself he left for the end. When he finally came for him, he could not find his old mentor.

Striving through the lands for years he never got hold of him. He stumbled upon the Samurai though and he felt that they provided a cause Julia would have approved. He joined them as a Prospect, showing little desire to advance through the ranks, as he remembered how this had developed last time. For now he willfully serves the Shogun, offering his talents when needed and blending in when necessary. Deep in his heart he feels a need to kill again from time to time though and he fears sooner or later everything Julia had given him might rot and die like she did and the Snake will fully return to his old habits.

 

Raaphael Winsoon
-Winsoon Cottage

​

Her bedroom was her peace. It was the manifestation of her soul in the physical realm of the wasteland. The piece of the world that she called peace and home. The walls were painted white, with cracks splintering the scheme. The cracks made sense to her. The floor was stone and warm to the touch, but there were jagged edges that her partners would occasionally cut themselves on. But she did not. She knew every crevice, even in the dark. Her bed was large on an old wooden base with posts that reached his to the ceiling. A large burgundy colored comforter with pink sheets and white pillows that rested the heads of two of her partners. She eyed them from the bedroom entrance, her revolver resting in both of her hands; the long barrel dwarfed her hands. The gun felt heavy. Heavier today.

The decision they made yesterday to allow Hezekiah to be granted the opportunity to commit seppuku was one she had momentarily struggled with, but ultimately consulted and agreed with Marcus was the best course of action. Their code was not something that simply ended when actions that betrayed their honor were committed. Either it meant something to be part of the club or it didn't, she reasoned. If it was the former, than Hezekiah being granted seppuku would serve as a symbol not only to the club and its enemies, but to its allies. This decision was necessary and though it would seem to the rest of the club, and even Marcus at times, that Raaphael made these decisions without emotion, this could not be further from the truth. Decisions that determined the life and death of others weighed on her, but they were decisions that those who lead had to make. The burdens of leadership...She'd seen the roughest killers and the hardest men crumbled under said burden.

"You gonna kill us, Ms. Winsoon?" One of the men had opened his eyes and observed her with the gun in her hand.

Her gaze rose from the weapon to meet his. "No, but it is time for you to leave."

----
Blondie's Garage

Black jean shorts, both revolvers hanging off her hip, and brown working boots.

Desert camouflaged tank top.

Her hair in cornrows tied in a bun in the back and large hoop earrings.

Her Samurai jacket with Naraku strapped to her back and Jugo in her right hand.

Raaphael rose off of Wildfire as the monster roared to a stop outside the garage. There were members already here. She was a notorious late sleeper. She found Marcus in the garage tampering with the Emperor; Kazan and Lia not too far away. Lia was silent, brooding and observing as she normally did. She reminded Raaphael of the ones that behaved like the wasteland had already conquered them. Conquered not in the sense that they were defeated, quite the opposite actually. Conquered in the sense that they had allowed the wasteland to transform them into people that would always live this life. Raaphael reinforced the code of bushido taught in the club with the underlying belief that there was more to human life than killing, having sex, and riding. Some received this, some didn't, but through her years, she noticed that the the ones who didn't normally lived short, brutish lives. She did not want that for Lia, though...the girl in her current state was useful for the club.

Kazan was a man of honor and Raaphael was attracted to men like that. Men of service and strength and loyalty to their duties. He was reliable and she would recommend to Marcus that Kazan be brought along to meet the supplier. Kazan controlled his anger by his dedication to the club. Another one that was incredibly useful.

The Daimyo gave a kind smile to Lia and Kazan as a good morning. Raaphael knelt down beside Marcus, though she was sure he had heard her approaching. The smile faded and her face became stoic once it was away from the eyes of the others. "Good morning, Marcus." Her deep voice spoke. "We have a hell of a bridge to repair today."

Tag: All

 

Christophe
Desert, near Blondie‘s Garage

„You are not so fearsome, are you?“ Christophe smiled at the rattesnake that was in front of him, winding at the ground and shying away from the silver blade he held right at it. Slowly it danced around it and Christophe gave it a nod. „C’mon, try. We both know it is in your nature. It is in both of our natures, actually. We kill. Not because we must, but because we can. Hm?“ He watched the desert dance and lay his head aside. It tensed, rattled even louder and then went silent, as he moved the blade sideways, beheading it. „Should have taken your shot, when you had one. Amigo.“ He stood up and waved the dust off his coat. „Alos I got to admit this is a big desert, it may not be big enough for the two of us. One snake should be enough.“ He laughed and walked slowly back to the garage, which was a good fifteen minutes away from the spot in the desert he called „the graveyard“ by now.

Putting his sword back under his mantle and checking the two Glocks he had there, he pulled the coat tighter around him and made his way to the garage. The Shogun and all the Samurai were already assembled. He said nothing, as he was not a Samurai. Also he had little to say. These were not his friends, these were not even yet his brother. He was a prospect and he did not desire to be more for now. He looked at Lia, who kept to herself as always. The silent girl had a fascination to him, always. They were not so different him and her. She just was killing yet without knowing it had become her nature. Maybe she guessed though.

Folding his arms, he silently watched all the others do their thing. The Saint was somewhat a Bushido fanatic, the Shogun their respected leader, the Kahn was not yet here and Winsoon was his trusted number two. A surrogate family doomed to end in one violent storm. Bushido forbid to fear death though. He assumed they would welcome it once it came.

Tag: @Reynar_Tedros, @The Jedi in the Pumas, @RachelTyrell, @shadowson

 

Treka LaRue (KiKi)
The Club House, somewhere out back


Treka yawned. Treka pushed back her awning to take a look as the sun came up. Treka's world was outdoors. She enjoyed the openess. The space. Of course, she did have areas of the wasteland, where she had carved herself hidden shelters, for when the storms would hit. But for the most part, she enjoyed the scenery. She had one such shelter hidden closer to the club house, for when she needed to attend meetings, or when things on the outside got a bit heated.

A lone 'woof!' made her look, and then giggle. Dog had found something to play with, and was busy pawing at it, as he ran about, sometimes picking it up with his teeth. Looked like a junked car part. A muffler. She shook her head as she watched him pick it up, and run with it. Whatever kept him happy.

She grabbed a small can, and took the time to carefully water and take care of her small tree. It was something she did every morning. That, and a bath. Afterward, she started with breakfast for both of them. Dog noticed the smell, and put down his new toy, and walked over sniffing wildly. Dog then pounced on her, knocking her flat on her back, as be began to whine and give her big puppy eyes. Treka started giggling, and then fell out into full laughter. "OFF!! Get off you big mutt! She said, still giggling, as she rolled to move the heavy weight off of her. He moved, and then laid down, still giving her 'the look'.

"Okay, Okay. You win!" She told him, as she moved to get their breakfast. Dog polielty waited until both meals were set down, and Treka herself had sat down. She looked over at Dog.

"Okay. Go for it!" Dog looked at his plate and then greedily started to eat, while Treka picked up her fork, and began to eat her own meal. She looked over at Dog, grinning.

"Eat up. Hopefully, we're going shopping today!" she told him. Well, she certainly hoped so. She had heard about the trouble with one of the members. He had done something bad to one of their suppliers kin. It had gone real bad. And now the big guy was going to try and see if their supplier was still willing to deal with them. So Treka decided to tag along and see what happened. Besides, she could manage to find some cool pieces of hardware. Treka stretched. Time to go see if anyone showed up. She climbed out from under her awning and began to gather her things.

Time to see who came to the party!


TAG: @Master Vo'Un'Var, @RachelTyrell, @The Jedi in the Pumas, @Shadowsun, @Reynar Tedros

 

Marcus Rhodes
Blondie’s Garage

A little while after Marcus had sat down to work on the Emperor, members of the Samurai had begun to arrive at the garage.

The first of them was Lia, who acknowledged Marcus silently, as she often did, with a respectful nod, which he in turn gave her in greeting. The girl was quiet, shy around others, but Marcus always appreciated those rare times when he was able to have a conversation with her, because she was loyal and she had a pure soul. A Samurai soul. And her skills in combat were far beyond what her age and temperament would suggest, and the Shogun always felt comfortable next to her on a battlefield.

Kazan, or the Saint as he was often known, entered the garage next. “Greetings, Marcus-sama,” he said to the Shogun with a bow. Marcus bowed to Kazan in return, noting the use of the suffix he added after his name. It was a cultural sign of respect in certain Old World regions where the Samurai operated for those who were of the highest rank and status, but not something Marcus required of his club. But still Kazan elected to observe the tradition, which further exemplified his dedication and religious adherence to the Bushido code and the Samurai way of life. Not to mention the full body of armor he wore at nearly all times.

“Smells like your bike’s leakin’, Kazan,” Marcus observed in his trademark old southern drawl with a small grin. He knew Kazan was well aware of the leak.

It wasn’t much longer until Raaphael Winsoon, Marcus’ trusted Daimyo, arrived. He’d heard the unmistakable rumble of Wildfire outside, a sound that always brought him a sliver of peace when he heard it. To him, it signified loyalty. It told him that no matter how bad things got, he always had an ally by his side. The sound of the bike was an extension of Raaph, just as she was an extension of him, the Daimyo to the Shogun. She knelt beside Marcus when she entered the garage, hoop earrings dangling from her ears. “Good morning, Marcus,” she said. “We have a hell of a bridge to repair today.”

“You ain’t kiddin’,” Marcus’ words were strained as he finished tightening a screw on his bike. “Glad you’re here to help me repair it.”

Next to arrive was one the older members of the club in age, but its newest in tenure. Christophe, or Snake as he was sometimes called, not unlike Kazan and his Saint moniker, stood inconspicuously in the corner of the garage with his arms folded, observing the few others there. Marcus managed to catch his eye and gave him a nod in greeting, still unsure if he fully trusted the man or not. He’d allowed him in the club as a Prospect, and since then he hadn’t shown any sign of urgency to earn the title of Samurai. But Marcus could sense an innate understanding of honor and blood, and was sure that given the opportunity, the enigmatic man would prove his worth.

Treka LaRue showed up shortly after Christophe, along with her faithful companion, the aptly named Dog. Marcus was always fond of the young scavenger since she’d arrived a few years ago, as she had proven herself to be a valuable asset to the Samurai through her skills of tracking and scavenging (not to mention her preparedness). And Dog was always a welcome presence that often provided levity when the club needed it.

After some time had passed in the garage, Marcus stood and instantly got the attention of everyone there.

“Well, I reckon there ain’t no point in puttin’ this off any longer,” he started. “As y’all are well aware, we’ve got a fence that needs mendin’. Gregor Ventura’s been our main supply line for well over a decade, and he’s got every right to throw all that away now after what Hezekiah did to his daughter. Wouldn’t blame him if he did. But. We gotta do everything we can to keep that from happening. I don’t need to tell y’all that suppliers ain’t easy to come by out here. Now, we handled Hezekiah’s punishment as a club, whether we all agreed on it or not. And I’m ridin’ into Sunset to let Gregor know that the punishment’s been dealt. Hopefully that’ll be enough. We all need to pray to whatever God we believe in that it is.”

Sunset was one of the bigger settlements in the Wasteland, and the Samurai were well known there among the residents, having provided protection and many favors for them over the years. It was about half an hour’s ride from Blondie’s, and most of them knew the way well.

“That bein’ said,” Marcus continued, “Raaphael and Kazan, y’all will accompany me when I meet with Gregor. The rest of y’all can ride up there with us if you want, catch up with the locals, whatever you wanna do. But that’s the plan for today. If y’all got any questions or suggestions, I’m all ears, but make it quick ‘cause I’m headin’ out in a few minutes. The less time we give Gregor to think, the better.”

Tag: @RachelTyrell, @The Jedi in the Pumas, @Shadowsun, @Ktala, @DarkLordoftheFins, @Master Vo'Un'Var

 

Treka LaRue (KiKi)
Blondie’s Garage


Treka arrived at the party with DOG traveling close behind her. It looked like most if not all of the other members of the club had already arrived. Treka grinned, as she plopped down in a seat as Dog curled up behind her. Treka nodded to a few of the members and then focused on the leader, Marcus. After some time had passed in the garage, Marcus stood and instantly got the attention of everyone there.

“Well, I reckon there ain’t no point in puttin’ this off any longer,” he started. “As y’all are well aware, we’ve got a fence that needs mendin’. Gregor Ventura’s been our main supply line for well over a decade, and he’s got every right to throw all that away now after what Hezekiah did to his daughter. Wouldn’t blame him if he did. But. We gotta do everything we can to keep that from happening. I don’t need to tell y’all that suppliers ain’t easy to come by out here. Now, we handled Hezekiah’s punishment as a club, whether we all agreed on it or not. And I’m ridin’ into Sunset to let Gregor know that the punishment’s been dealt. Hopefully that’ll be enough. We all need to pray to whatever God we believe in that it is.”

Treka perked up at the name of Sunset being mentioned. She got some of her great stuff there, from trading with the others that lived in the settlement. And or course the pits... oh yes, she would be interested in going. She certainly hoped that whatever happened between the club that other guy, and the settlement wasnt that bad. She tuned back in when Marcus spoke up again.

“That bein’ said,” Marcus continued, “Raaphael and Kazan, y’all will accompany me when I meet with Gregor. The rest of y’all can ride up there with us if you want, catch up with the locals, whatever you wanna do. But that’s the plan for today. If y’all got any questions or suggestions, I’m all ears, but make it quick ‘cause I’m headin’ out in a few minutes. The less time we give Gregor to think, the better.”

Treka looked over her shoulder to Dog, who was busy chewing on .. something. "Look's like we're goin' travellin." she told him. Dog looked up from his new toy. "Woof!" he responded as he went back to chewing. Treka dug in her pouch and whipped out a small list. She ALWAYS had a list of parts she was looking for. Some were for some of the bikes that belonged to the group And some...well, some were for a special project she was working on. And a few things for Dog as well. She carefully rolled up her list, placing it back into her pouch. Yep, she was ready. She waited to see if anyone else had something to say before she headed for her bike.




TAG: @Master Vo'Un'Var, @RachelTyrell, @The Jedi in the Pumas, @Shadowsun, @Reynar_Tedros

 

Lia
Blondie‘s Garage

She was not into shopping or such things, but she would not let her Shogun ride alone into a potential trap. Silently she sat down on her Kawasaki Ninja and waited for the others to depart. She eyed Christophe, who seemed to have taken an interest in her. There was something in the man that gave her the creeps. None of those assembled could be considered harmless by any means, but this man was oozing death in a way she felt was not theirs.

„Shogun.“ She finally said her first words today and awaited him to ride out first.

Tag: @Reynar_Tedros, @all

 

Kazan, The Saint
Blondie’s Garage

The leak was an easier fix then Kazan had been expecting. After fixing up Bronze Dragon Kazan proceeded to don his armor again. Not long after the distinct growl of Wildfire could be heard. Raaphael, the daimyo of the club, second only to the Shogun. Kazan had great respect for her, calm and collected, traits that seemed increasingly rare in the wasteland. Kazan bowed to Raaphael as she entered the garage and moved back to his bike for some additional maintenance.

Kazan looked toward Snake as he arrived and simply nodded toward him. Kazan was still unsure as to what he think of him. His intentions were still an unknown, he was no doubt one to watch. Kazan sensed a familiarity about him, a pain that Kazan knew all too well. While he may only be a prospect Kazan was sure that his skill could match many of the Samurai of the club. Kazan wandered off to the bar to find something to drink, he then sat he the meeting room and waited for the rest of the club to arrive.

“Well, I reckon there ain’t no point in puttin’ this off any longer,” Once Marcus began to speak Kazan went back in the garage and leaned back against the wall not too far from Christophe. He eyed Treka who had arrived when Kazan stepped out. A invaluable member of the Motorcycle Club, she also had Kazan’s respect.

As y’all are well aware, we’ve got a fence that needs mendin’. Gregor Ventura’s been our main supply line for well over a decade, and he’s got every right to throw all that away now after what Hezekiah did to his daughter. Wouldn’t blame him if he did. But. We gotta do everything we can to keep that from happening. I don’t need to tell y’all that suppliers ain’t easy to come by out here. Now, we handled Hezekiah’s punishment as a club, whether we all agreed on it or not. And I’m ridin’ into Sunset to let Gregor know that the punishment’s been dealt. Hopefully that’ll be enough. We all need to pray to whatever God we believe in that it is.”

Losing Ventura as their supplier would indeed be a massive problem for the club. Kazan was fond of Sunset, a glimmer of hope against the grisly darkness of the wasteland.

“That bein’ said,” Marcus continued, “Raaphael and Kazan, y’all will accompany me when I meet with Gregor. The rest of y’all can ride up there with us if you want, catch up with the locals, whatever you wanna do. But that’s the plan for today. If y’all got any questions or suggestions, I’m all ears, but make it quick ‘cause I’m headin’ out in a few minutes. The less time we give Gregor to think, the better.”

Upon hearing this Kazan bowed to Marcus and marched back over to Bronze Dragon. He performed a few last checks before waiting for his Shogun to ride out.

TAG: @RachelTyrell , @The Jedi in the Pumas, @Reynar_Tedros , @Ktala, @DarkLordoftheFins, @Master Vo'Un'Var

 

Christophe the Snake
Blondie‘s Garage

He was not addressed, so he decided riding with them to the meeting point and then let them go abouttheir business was the best he could do. He vanished into the sleeping quarters and got one of the two sports bags he had pushed under the bed. He knew which was which by looking at them and he got the sniper rifle. Then he returned to the garage, put it on the backseat of his rather simple bike. He had taken it from a poor guy who he had run in on the streets when he had needed a ride.

Finally he sat down, started it and waited for everybody to leave before him. He would ride last, as his position indicated he should.

Tag: @Reynar_Tedros, @all

 

Raaphael Winsoon
-Blondie's Garage

So elegant.

A smile breached her typically placid face as Marcus spoke. There was a reason that he had been able to organize such a formidable crew and establish the strong ties and alliances that the club had built under his reign. He had a simplistic, but infectious way with words and he was a calming man. Whatever disagreements they had, she knew that Marcus could be counted on to galvanize the resources when they needed to. She turned to walk back towards Wildfire before stopping in her tracks.

"Marcus..." She said in a low register, quietly. The only recipient of her message would be Marcus.

"I'm sure they realize that this is a peaceful visit. Though, Gregor could very well turn this into a nasty one. I won't ask you now, but..." She pretended to examine her bright red fingernails on her right hand. "Maybe that conversation on replacing Gregor that we put a pin in a few weeks ago...needs to be unpinned."

She was his daimyo. He was her shogun. She would follow him into the darkest valleys, underneath all of the shadows of death. Kind of like now. When the outcome in Sunset was unclear.

She strolled back to Wildfire and awakened its spirit, chopping into the current symphony of bikes roaring to life.

Another day, another ride.

Tag: All

 

Marcus Rhodes
The Wasteland

Marcus mulled over Raaphael’s words as he kicked the Emperor into life, feeling the rumbling engine join the chorus of the rest of the club’s. He’d been thinking to himself about the irony of it all. He and Raaph quietly kicking the tires on the possibility of finding a new supplier. After all, despite the difficulties of finding a good working relationship in the Wasteland, keeping one was even harder, and the fact that they’d been tied to Gregor for so long felt like somewhat of a miracle. In a time when things could change at the drop of a hat, it was never a bad idea to have options and contingency plans.

And then a couple weeks later, Hezekiah doing what he did and potentially forcing their hand, accelerating their need for a new partnership so shortly after they’d begun to discuss the possibility. Gregor’s reaction was impossible to predict. Marcus knew the man to be a reasonable negotiator, but someone in his position couldn’t afford to be lenient when wronged. Yes, even if Ventura chose to forgive them for this breach of trust, they’d be skating on thin ice for the foreseeable future. A new supply line was a priority, at least to have in reserve.

Marcus didn’t say anything else to the club. Aside from Raaphael’s quiet words and a brief acknowledgement from Lia, no one else had spoken up, so they were all set to ride out. The Shogun led the way as he always did, donning the Samurai vest and taking the short driveway from the garage to the open road that led to Sunset. The sun was high now, and the ride was easy. The club knew the characteristics and quirks of the roads, the potholes and the dips and the breaks, where the dirt stood and where the sand ran off. Communicating over the rumble of the motorcycles was impossible verbally, but the club was so in tune together that it was hardly ever necessary, and when it was, simple hand signals were almost always sufficient. Every ride together for them was a spiritual exercise in unity, the forming of individuals into one whole that moved together, thought together, expression through rubber meeting road. The Samurai were many, and the Samurai were one.

They arrived at Sunset half an hour later. For its size, it appeared at first glance quiet and unassuming. No big sign or bright lights announcing its presence. Just a collection of buildings impressively constructed with the scraps of the Wastes, roofs of tin and foundations of wood and metal.



Marcus parked his bike outside the front gate and off to the right, killing the engine as he stepped off the seat and swung his leg around to stand up, adjusting the swords holstered on each hip. Beads of sweat stood out on his wiry frame, veins decorating his sinewy arms in a way that signaled an old kind of strength that a younger man was simply incapable of. He waited for the club to follow suit, and headed through the front gate into Sunset, passing by the two armed guards who seemed to be more vigilant than usual.

“All right,” Marcus turned to Raaphael and Kazan. “You two are with me. When we get to Gregor, I’ll do whatever talkin’ needs to be done. Hopefully that’s all we’ll be doin’ but stay ready, like always. Scorned fathers are tough to predict.

“Rest of you,” Marcus indicated the remaining Samurai who followed him into Sunset, “do your thing. Let’s plan to meet back here in about half an hour.”

Most people in Sunset knew the Samurai and were friendly with them thanks to the protection and favors they’d provided them over the years. There were a few food and grocery vendors who were known to give them discounts on their goods, and even the bartenders at the pub would give them a round on the house from time to time. Word had gotten around of Hezekiah’s crime against Gregor’s daughter, but hardly any of the Sunset dwellers were antagonistic toward the club as a result, understanding that one bad apple didn’t ruin the bunch.

Several kids were kicking around an old soccer ball a ways down from the square and a young boy excitedly got the attention of his friend and they both waved at the Samurai. In another direction, a bearded man with a full belly was grilling some meat that was creating a tantalizing smell while he drank a half empty bottle of cold beer. Small vendors were open for business, selling wares that ranged from various clothing items and accessories to Old World antiquities like playing cards and music cassette tapes. Some of them traded for money, some for items of similar value, some for favors, but all were willing to bargain. There was a small inn that offered lodging to those who sought respite from the harshness of the Wasteland. It was a good day in Sunset, and the Samurai were welcome guests. Lia, Christophe, and Treka (and Dog) were free to mill about for the next half hour until it was time to meet back up with the other three.

Meanwhile, Marcus looked at Raaphael and Kazan. “Anything y’all wanna discuss before we go see Gregor? I don’t anticipate there bein’ any big problems, but.”

Tag: @RachelTyrell, @The Jedi in the Pumas, @Shadowsun, @Ktala, @DarkLordoftheFins

 

Lia
Sunset, streets

The Shogun and his most trusted companions went off to see Gregor. Lia regretted a bit coming along. She wanted to support her Shogun in these difficult moments, but the truth was she was not needed nor would she be present when the discussion took place. So she was left on the marketplace with her fellow Samurai. She gave Treka a nod and ignored Christophe for now. The man gave her the creeps. He smelled of death. It seemed to surround him and neither his mysterious gaze nor his boyish grin could hide the monster he truly was.

Not interested in trading - her ascetic lifestyle did not allow her many possessions - she opened her leather jacket and shifted her blade from the back to her side. Breathing the dry desert air she took her helmet off and opened her hair. Looking around she could not help but wonder what it would have been like. Being one of them had been a real possibility. Once she had been a carefree girl. Once Sheehan been thinking about clothes and boys. They had taken all of it away. Instead they had created her. Silent Lia, always waiting for a chance to fight an honorable fight, always hungry for the blood of her enemies. The cold girl without friends. The Samurai. She had no friends and the truth was she did not know how to. She had a Shogun and the Samurai, the code and her sword.

Taking a water from her bag she took a sip and simply watched everyone go their ways. She would stay at the meeting place for the entire thirty minutes, if no need for anything else to be done became apparent.

Not far from here she had faced the Ratking. The Shogun had send her to deal with a man trying to establish a slaver business. He had fought without skill or honor. He used a chain and yelled a lot. His teeth had been rotten and his breath had been unbearable. She had remedied that by cutting of his lower jaw before beheading what was left of his head. The joy it brought her had been dangerously intoxicating.

Remembering the day she put one of her rare smiles on and patiently waited for the half of an hour to pass.

Tag: @Reynar_Tedros, @Ktala, @DarkLordoftheFins, @others

 

Treka LaRue (Kiki)
Sunset


The group arrived at Sunset, half an hour later. It was a modest-looking little town, with buildings made of scraps and wastes of the materials around them, of wood and metal. Treka was grinning from ear to ear. "WOOF!" Dog responded from his cart that he was ridding. Treka pulled up her goggles, grinning. She saw some kids playing outside. A few other folks moving around. The Shogun's voice made her look back.

“All right,” Marcus turned to Raaphael and Kazan. “You two are with me. When we get to Gregor, I’ll do whatever talkin’ needs to be done. Hopefully that’s all we’ll be doin’ but stay ready, like always. Scorned fathers are tough to predict."

“Rest of you,” Marcus indicated everybody else, “do your thing. Let’s plan to meet back here in about half an hour.”

"W00T!" Treka was still grinning as she hopped off her ride. She have a nod to Lia, who had given her one, and she flicked a few switches on her ride. She then waved to the kids, and ran off in their directions. Kids were often overlooked, but some of the great informants you could ask for. They saw everything.

"Hey guys!" she called out, as she approached them. She gave a hand signal for Dog to stay behind her at a distance. Not everyone was happy to see Dog's approach. And if it was some folks she already knew, then she would give him the go-ahead. After she chatted with the kids to get the lowdown on what was happening around town, and to find out if they had anything interesting to trade, she would next go to the vendors. Always something to find there.



TAG: @Master Vo'Un'Var, @RachelTyrell, @The Jedi in the Pumas, @Shadowsun, @Reynar_Tedros, @DarkLordoftheFins

 

Raaphael Winsoon
-Sunset

Naraku would have to stay with Wildfire. A katana was a normal part of the attire for club members. Bringing Jugo along would raise no alarms with Gregor and his people. A naginata on the other hand, Naraku specifically, would. The people who knew of Raaphael would know that if she was completely armed that meant that she was expecting a confrontation; that she was ready for one. Which was not the message they needed to send today. Only Jugo would be coming along; the bronze colored, artistic sword design unsheathed illustrated the sharp contrast between Raaphael and the wasteland. This place was dead. She was not. This place was settled. She was not. There was more out there...

As they walked through the gates of Sunset and Marcus began giving instruction, Raaphael took the town in. One of the few examples in the wasteland of how civilization and civil cooperation could coexist against the backdrop of blood soaked violence and death. Raaphael liked the town, but typically payed it few visits, only to pick up partners when she got lonely and came to the one of the bars to drink. She was lonely and being in Sunset now, during the day, only reminded her of the companionship that eluded her. She was getting no younger. The idea, however, of having a child...of having a family in this world...Would be selfish and yet it was a concept that she could not shake.

Hence the drinking.

She took the Samurai jacket that was slung over her shoulder and actually slid it onto her body. The patch across the chest reading RAAPH in big letters. When the others started to disperse, Raaph took the distance and nodded down the street that would leave them to Gregor's.

Playfully, without smiling, she mimicked his accent. "I reckon' the biggest problems are the ones we ain't anticipatin'." She took a few steps down the path and stopped. "Gregor knows who we are. He knows what we stand for. He knows the business we bring. He also knows that he'll never get his daughter or her innocence back. That kind of trauma can make people make bad decisions. Like turning a meeting into an ambush."

Tag: @Shadowsun @Reynar_Tedros

 

The Khan
The Wasteland...

The rumble of the motorcycle echoed ferociously throughout the silent morning wastes. Rodents and pests hurried away from the path as The Khan darted through the crumbling lands, a path of dust and sand kicking up in a cloud behind his path, forming a long trail of mist. A small farmstead was ahead of him, with a middle-aged man sitting in the porch of his home, cigarette in mouth and book in hand.

The Khan skidded to a halt, stepping off his bike and grabbing his sawn-off shotgun. He stormed towards the man in his porch, who narrowed his eyes and then leapt up in shock.

"Khan! Man... What are you doin' here man?!" He asked, a tense and frightened tone in his voice. The Khan said nothing drawing closer and lifting the gun, aiming it at the man.

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened, buddy, really! I'm really sorry!" he implored, but it wasn't enough.

A shot rang out into the air. The wife of the man would wake up to find him missing his head on the porch. The Khan sat back on his bike, and crossed a name off a small sheet of paper. He looked up at the sun, cursing to himself.

Damn. I'm gonna be late. I'll cut through Sunset to get to the Garage.

The Khan swung back onto his bike and sped back into the wasteland, the roar of the engine blasting out into the wastes...

---

The Khan stopped his bike, smiling to himself in small surprise. The Samurai were already at Sunset.

Just his luck.

Marcus, Raaphael and Kazan had went off to meet Gregor, which left The Khan and the others to wander the town. The Khan shrugged, taking out a small pack of sunflower seeds and biting down on one, cracking open its shell and revealing the treasured inside.

He looked around, narrowing his eyes, before beginning to wander the streets, letting fate take its course.

@Reynar_Tedros and everyone else