Scribblegroove

Virtue Virtue started to become a little bit impatient with Crackshots knuckle-headedness. "Because if you're here, and they are still following you, you might lure them here! Who knows what kind of troulbe that could cause. You need to be more cautious of where you go and what the consequences are." She said, not really giving a lecture, but moreso saying it like a concerned friend. She looked at Aile. She seemed relatively innocent. Tough, probably a little scarred, but not dangerous. Why would anypony send 2 airships to retrieve whatever she was carrying? How the hell did these ponies survive the attack? More questions popped up in her head as she contemplated this, and her curiosity was actually increased after Crackshot had explained what their attackers had tried to achieve. "Well, finding answers usually leads to even more questions..." She thought to herself. Slightly distracted by the pegasus with the wounded leg, that was currently flying around in a dazzling display of agility and dexterity. Even though she had a lot of experience with not showing her emotions, she found it hard to conceal her jealousy. With ease the pegasus performed maneuvers she couldn't even imagine herself doing. Shuffling the feathers of her wings slightly against her body, she recomposed herself and frowned slightly at Crackshot. "You know, it may sound strange, but I am fond of this place. You'd better leave as quickly as you can or you'll bring a whole lot of trouble with you. I doubt you're keen on staying here much longer anyway, but I'll just emphasize a slight bit more on the urgency of your departure..." Recalling what she had seen when she had been scouting the area, she remembered the tank. A tank that was strangely familiar. "Hold on, you're the ponies that were going after those monsters that have spread the horrible spore virus! I wasn't here when it happened but everypony was talking about it!" Looking at the Minotaur with large eyes, she felt his hulking figure towering out above her. "They didn't say anythig about a minotaur though..." But after the realisation she had just made, a flood of questions dawned in her mind. What was their plan? Was it their own initiative or were they given orders? Do they have any idea if they can find it's source? Right in the middle of her thought process, she was interrupted by the Zebra. This Zebra had not gone unnoticed to her. He had a strange aura around him. One of serenity and vigilance, while at the same time posessing a powerful fury. She had the ability to asess ponies like that, and she had assumed that this particular individual was a shaman. She had planned that mentioning the spirits subtly would confirm her assumptions on this. And it had. Of course, she had little knowledge of the spirits, but it would help gaining this Zebra's trust more quickly. "Oh yes, I do adhere the spirits. While my knowledge of them and their ways is limited, I believe they are far more influential to our lives and our environment than everyone makes us believe they are. Are you experienced on the subject?" She asked, blinking at him with a gorgeous smile that insinuated nothing but harmlessness and curiosity. 'Little filly eyes' is what Virtue called them herselves, twinkling with youthful ignorance. [speech 100, Charisma 10] Greshken Greshken rather quickly grew tired of the mare. Not because she was uninteresting or seemed suspicious, but because she was wasting their time. He sighed and poked Crackshot in the back. "Either make her bugger off or start walking and talking. You can do two things at a time right? We need to get to a doctor, then eventually a shop, and then a bed." He grunted softly behind him into his ears. This did not go unnoticed to Virtue, but she decided to ignore it. Looking at Chip and Dashia, he tried to listen to what they were saying, but barely understood what they were talking about. "It sounds like you have quite ambitious plans!" He said to Dashia. "All this talk about implants and chips make me believe you want to become a robot!" He said jokingly, as if actually wanting to become part robot was absolutely preposterous.

"You really don't know me? And you call yourself experienced with these type of ponies..." Virtue scoffed, but immediately reassumed her fairly innocent stature. "I've been following you for the part couple of hours. It's strange you see, I wouldn't usually chase down a seemingly random pack of stray wanderers..." She smiled at Crackshot with one brow raised. "But I doubt you're just wanderers if somepony takes the trouble to send heavily weaponed marauders in airships after you..." She then returned to a more serious tone. "Really though, if those guys decide to show up here this town will not survive, or it will take significant damage. I want to know what you're up to and if you are sure these airships aren't following you still."

Virtue When Virtue wasn't met with immediate trust, she acted surprised and a little offended at their careless ignorance. "Well I can't say in extremely familiar with the environment, but I've been around and I do my business here." She mumbled, a bit distraught. "And I know that this place is filed with delinquents that cannot be trusted..." She admitted, but then get fierceness returned. "But that doesn't mean I cannot be concerned about your condition, since I'm not one of ose violent culprits. I come here every once in a while and I've never seen a group this strange and this devastated." She pointed at Greshken and Dashia, underlining that last comment. "Can you blame me that my interest is piqued?" Gresken Listening to the conversation that develops in front of him, Greshken smiled passively at Dashia as she woke, not really paying attention to what she was saying.

Greshken With Ponyville in the distance, Greshken felt relieved. "There we are. Ponyville. That should give us oppertunity to replenish our supplies and rest..." He sighed, his voice having slightly returned in the past couple of hours. He tried to make sure that Dashia didn't wake until they were actually at a doctor that could treat her, but he wasn't very subtle and nimble. He was strong enough to carry her, but didn't extactly have the control to smoothen the ride. Luckily, up until now Dashia had been tired enough to sleep through the occasional bumps and stumbling. When they were finally at the edge of the town, Greshken stood still. Standing at the front of the pack, he realised that this was as far as his knowledge went. He had no clue were to find a doctor. "Crackshot, you know where we can find a doctor and a place to stay right?" He asked his companion, who was clearly much more experienced in these areas than he was. "I mean, a good doctor. 'Cause looking at the damage..." He mumbled, but he then got abruptly interrupted. Virtue As they closed in on Ponyville, Virtue got more and more curious as to who these ponies were, and also more and more tired since she was awful at flying and had been staying in the air for about 4 hours now. She had to come down eventually, and at the edge of Ponyville was the best place to confront them as any. She was familiar with ponyville. She'd been there a couple of times. She wasn't too keen on working with, or for raiders, but sometimes things dont go your way... And then you have to make sacrifces. Zooming past at a considerable distance, she caught up with the group of ponies and entered the town unnoticed (unless one of you rolls a natural 20 that is). She then turned around and galloped between the buildings to meet the unlikely bunch before they had made their way further into town. Wearing her bounty hunter duster, she felt confident. It felt different than her sneak suit. Even with bad intentions she was able to convince ponies to trust her, but now she had nothing but curiosity, and honestly a little concern. These ponies looked like they could fall down in exhaustion at any moment, and she couldn't bear to see anypony like that. She was going to play gullible for now and assume these ponies had good intentions, like her. If they were to prove otherwise, she had more than enough capabilities to escape, and hunt them down later. "Dear goodness you look horrible!" Virtue exclaimed, as if she hadn't seen them before, faking a little awkwardness, by following up her remark with: "I mean... uh, you clearly need medical assistance! Is that mare missing most of her leg!?" She said, distracted with the image of Dashia swung over the minotaur's shoulder. "You must go to the medic right away! How did this possibly happen!?" She played the concerned mother, and there was truth in that, though her real involvement with this group was her own curiosity. But these ponies didn't have to know that. She made sure not to seem intimidated by the minotaur, hoping it would win the trust of the ruthless hulking creature, pretending as if she had seen a thousand of them before him. She had in fact met several minotaurs, but none of them as huge as this one. "Please, do tell me what in the name of the spirits you were doing to get this wounded! Did you battle an entire army of some sort?" She continued in a slightly more calm manner. "You can follow me in the meantime. I know just were to go." she tried to seem as the most innocent, truthful and considerate young mare you would ever find, and as far as she knew she was doing a pretty good job. [10 Charisma, 100 speech] Greshken The mare that had suddenly appeared on the street out of nowhere surprised Greshken. First with her appearance, which was that of a bounty hunter, and then that of her attitude, which didn't match with her outfit in any way whatsoever. What she did do, was make Greshken feel sympathy for her, as she voiced her sympathy for them. She seemed far too innocent and pure to be corrupted with bad intentions. He immediately decided on keeping it that way for as long as possible.

Glad that Crackshot agreed with him and defended his point, he already wanted to proceed to grab Dashia, but Chip asked him about the cannon. "I'm far too weakened to carry it now, and getting closer to the irradiated area again would be my doom..." he said with an apologetic tone. "We can come back for it tomorrow, don't worry." He added. "I'm not keen on losing that beauty yet either. " As Dashia was explaining how she could still fly herself to Ponyville, she fainted mid-sentence. Clearly she had been far more weakened by the battle than she had expected. Managing to catch her before her head hit the ground, Greshken grunted. “That does it, we are leaving. Haste yourselves because I’m not waiting for anything or anypony.” With that, Greshken took a look at the map on Dashia’s pip-buck, and headed towards their destination in a steady march. Even though he was still weakened in sick, he’d rather be in pain close to a doctors office than in pain in the middle of the wasteland. He’d have to deal with everything else later. Now, their survival was the most important, and the only thing that ensured it was heading for the raiders’ settlement. Virtue High up in the sky, a head was peeking out from the bottom of the clouds. Fascinated as she was, she had completely forgotten to be cautious to not be seen. But high up in the sky as she was, there was little chance that these ponies would spot her [Perception 7 required]. It was indeed a very strange group, one of the likes she’d never seen before. The amount of devastation that lied in their wake was frightening Who were these ponies, and why were they so important? After all, who would send two airships after a seemingly random group of adventurers without good reason? Just a moment ago, she’d been watching from a great distance, lying down on one of the hills in the area. The sheer force and power of the minotaur, the bravery and accuracy of the unicorn and zebra. The flying ability of the power armour-clad mare. And then the giant explosions. The fire! It was perplexing that warfare was still a thing in the wasteland. She was even more impressed that this group had held their ground and survived the attack of some of the most technologically advanced marauders she had ever seen. She had to constantly keep her jaw from dropping to the ground as she watched, the one surprise being followed by the next. But it didn’t take long. As quickly as the ships had approached, they had also left the area. After that, Virtue had decided she wanted to take a closer look at these ponies. She wouldn’t come to close until she was certain they weren’t hostile towards her, but she was convinced she could take her advantage of these ponies. Following them closely, watching from the skies, she waited to see what they were going to do next.

Greshken looked at Dashia and frowned, as I'd he was making an estimation in his head. He then came to a conclusion and his expression brightened up. "Dashia, if you hand over your heavy equipment to the others, I could simply carry you." He proposed. He was completely oblivious to the fact that Chip might be uncomfortable with that, seeing it simply as the most efficient way of moving forward as quickly as possible. Looking at Chip, he could his his reasoning. "It would be better to use a health potion right now. We need to get moving quickly, so fixing your leg is worth the potion."

Greshken gladly accepted the radaway that was being handed to him, but refused to take the health potions, saying he wouldn't need them. He smiled lightly, and sincerely at these ponies' kindness, and decided not to ask himself what he'd done to deserve such gifts after he had treated them so poorly. He immediately used the Radway on himself, instantly lowering the amount of rads in his system. He knew it would slowly begin to decay over time and in a matter of days it would be mostly gone, but the radaway drastically improved his condition. He felt a lot better after using then. His wounds began to regenerate more slowly now, but he'd still be healthy again in a short time. He nodded at the zebra, who introduced himself along with some flattery. This Zebra had caused him some pain just hours ago, but one Greshken had fought alongside someone in battle, he was a lot more quick to trust them. His voice was almost nonexistent, raucously whispering what he was trying to say to the others. "Whatever that fight was all about, I believe we are all far too wounded and should try to find a town or at least set up camp somewhere safe." He voiced his idea rather calmly, much less demanding than usual. "We... I can't go on like this." He added, the weight of shame pressing down on him heavily.

Limping towards the group of ponies that had somehow survived the onslaught, Greshken groaned. He had dissapointed himself. Not a single enemy had been felled by his hammer. And they had gotten away with whatever the heck they had intended to do here. He couldn't really care right now though, he had gotten out of the irradiated area just in time, as he could almost feel his body falling apart because of radiation. Everything hurt, his eyes felt like they could pop out of his head at any time, and a few of his long hairs were falling out. As he neared the other survivors, he grinned at them. "You didn't think I had died did you? I never die..." He joked, but trough his laughter the others could see the pain he was going through. The wound on his arm, which was almost an entire chunk out of his flesh, was visibly growing back, as if his body was actively rebuilding itself. His left hoof had taken a blow and was seriously injured, but a moment ago it had almost been torn off entirely. Now it was just limping slightly. Everypony with a pip-buck would notice their geiger tellers registering 1 rad per second coming off of Greshken in radiation, and he was still standing at a distance right now. "I could use some radaway..." He said, his voice raucous, barely capable of producing coherent speech because of his swollen throat and painfully torn lips. A wound on his forehead covered his right eye in blood. He was constantly wiping it away, but it prevented him from seeing properly. One of his fingers had been completely blast off, but it seemed to be slowly regrowing as they watched. Suddendly, he started to puke, looking away from the others. The radiation sickness had gotten to his immune system. "I need some help..." He then grunted, wincing in pain.

With a grin Greshken felt the recoil of the giant weapon in his arms. The Shell was fired at the ship, and he knew it was going to hit target. Then the other ship blocked the shot. He groaned. The shields would be far too difficult to penetrate. There was no way those ships were going down. Looking at the gun, he got an idea. Then the missile was fired. Chip made a run for it. Greshken tossed the cannon away, making sure the weapon wouldn't be destroyed by the blast. He turned his face to the sky and screamed. At first it seemed like a cry, but soon the soldiers would realise it was actually laughter. He spread his arms and welcomed the missile with open arms. 540 Damage, 800 rads over 16 seconds] The missile hasn't directly got Greshken. If it had, he would've been killed. He was engulfed in a mushroom cloud that filled the air next to the barn with smoke. He had disappeared from sight, but he wasn't dead quite yet. The radiation hit him hard, and he could feel himself being weakened. With a crippled leg he stumbled away from where he had been smashed into the ground, nearly crawling. He tried to remain hidden for as long as possible (sneak 65). He knew that in a matter of seconds he'd be at fighting capacity again. His fleshwounds were slowly closing. Broken bones were mending. He could feel the regenerative powers of the radiation strengthen him. (Rad child, 8hp per second regen) He was gasping for air. Everything hurt. His body had been torn to pieces, but regenerating it all back hurt even more. He tried not to scream, making sure that his enemies didn't notice him so he could regenerate for as long as possible. He made his way to the shed and his there for a moment, sitting, gasping and recovering. He had to get back to fighting as soon as possible, but he could only win with the advantage of surprise.

Greshken had been holding up the giant weapon for Chip when the ships arrived. Immeditaley, he knew they were in trouble. He was thankful that he had eaten and slept enough to be at full capacity today, because as it seemed now, he'd have to tank a whole lot of bullets to make sure they survived this attack. His guess was that he, standing out in the open outside the barn, would immediately become the primary target. Their advantage was the cannon, powerful weapon of which their enemy had no knowledge. Greshken kept awkwardly holding the heavy weapon in his hands to make sure Chip was under enough cover, making sure he wouldn't get hit once the shooting started. "STAY BACK? FIGHT... Fight YOU COWARDS!" He screamed to the others when Crackshot ordered everyone to stay put. They couldn't afford to live under the mercy of anyone else. If they were to be captured, they would most likely be killed soon afterwards. It was either fighting for survival now, or dying. Losing ones freedom was even worse than dying in Greshkens opinion. "I will not lose my freedom now that I've just broken the chains that held me back." He grumbled, groaning slightly under the weight of the weapon that he was continiously holding up. The Zebra was the first to act, charging forwards to their opponents without hesitation. Immediately, a rain of bullets hailed down upon Greshken. He screamed. Many of the bullets were of fairly high caliber. He could hold ground against them for a while, but not too long. He looked down at Chip to see how far he was. He aimed at the airships on beforehand, waiting for Chip to get the firing mechanism to work. All the while, he was tanking the bullets of the airship. "WHY DO WE FIGHT!?" He started, trying to encourage both himself and the others, attempting to boost their morale. "WHY DO WE CHOOSE TO LIVE!?" He screamed out from under the ever lasting raging sound of bullets being fired from several machine guns. In his head he imagined all his previous fights. All his suffering in pain. How he had fought for his life. How he had fought to keep his sanity. How he had quenched his thirst for blood time and time again. Years upon years with the wasteland throwing everything it had at him, from it's worst mutant monsters to it's worst sentient monsters, monsters in the mind and soul. "BECAUSE WHEN WE FIGHT, AND WE WIN..." He screamed, trying to regain his breath as he was bracing himself against the hail of bullets. "WE GET TO SPIT THE DEMONS OF THE WASTELAND IN THE FACE!" He changed his foothold, giving chip more room to move, hoping he was soon ready to fire the cannon. "AND EVEN THOUGH THIS WOLRD THREW EVERYTHING IT HAD AT US..." Fire. Blood. Pain. Anger. Anticipation. Fear. Courage. Everything was released from his mind as he screamed on the top of his lungs. Every living being in the area of a few miles would be able to hear it. "WE. FUCKING. SURVIVED!" [Roar, speech check of 75, intimidate on all enemies (they will be frightened and run away unless they surpass Greshkens speech check) . Boost morale on all allies]

Not realising that the weapon hadn’t been finished yet, Greshken walked off into an empty field to give it a test-run. To his disappointment, when he aimed it at a dead tree in the distance, there was only a ‘click’. Greshken groaned. Clearly he had been a little bit too eager to test the weapon, and should’ve asked Chip first. He felt awfully stupid now, and decided to walk back to the barn later, testing out the balance and weight of the weapon now that it was in his hands anyway. He imagined the arc of the weapon being fairly small, since it was a relatively high-speed projectile fired from the long barrel. It would deal devastating damage, but aiming it at high distances would pose to be a problem, most definitely because he had a very limited supply of ammo. The cannon shells looked a lot like normal missiles, but they had a slightly different size and tip. Hopefully they’d be able to convert normal missiles into ammo for his cannon, otherwise it wouldn’t be useful for a very long time. Walking back to the barn, looking for chip to tell him that he had been too stupid to realise that the weapon hadn’t been operational yet, but he didn’t seem to be around. Probably headed off with Dashia again. He placed the gun down near the tank again, making sure that Chip would be able to find it if he was going to work on it again. Greshken felt like he was quite heavily in debt to Chip now. He’d been working on his weapon for him for quite a while. Though he looked like a cunning fellow, Greshken knew he would be able to trust Chip in time. But he still had his doubts about the entire group. Most especially about himself. He wasn’t sure if he was going to do any good by staying with them. Then again, it was them who asked him to help getting vengeance on the monsters that had created the virus in the first place. He decided he’d stay with these ponies for now. After all, they helped him recreate one of the most prized artifacts in the history of his people. It meant more to him than they realised. Taking a moment to sit down and reflect, Greshken let himself fall back and sat with his back against the wall of the barn, looking out across the vast land around them. Crackshot and the zebra were talking with each other, but he couldn’t really be bothered about what. He still didn’t understand what the zebra was even doing here, but the others seemed to trust him. Greshken didn’t. And he wouldn’t for a long time.

"That's right, you don't get to threaten me." He donned his armour again and picked up his hammer, fastening it in its usual place on his back. "And don't think resisting me shows strength. It just means the wastes haven't beaten you down enough yet." He concluded, and he felt his anger subsiding. Now that his head was clearer he realised that he was never going to be accepted in a group like this if he kept being so condescending and knuckle headed all the time. He had asserted his dominance over the others, but had lost their trust. "I do respect you, Crackshot, and in a way I am sorry for my behaviour, but it is what I have become. You can still redeem yourself, but I know that I am lost forever." He mumbled as Crackshot faced away from him. "You should just stop ordering me around." [speech 70] With that, he walked around the tank to see the weapon that the shaman had supposedly summoned for him. There were a total of 8 shells to fire. "Chip, I'm going to take this for a spin. I'll be back in a while." He said as he lifted the humongous gun of the ground. Even he had trouble walking straight with that weapon in his hands. He walked off a short distance into the planes, inspecting the weapon and its ammunition there.

Greshken turned around entirely towards Crackshot now, who had his weapon aimed at him. He grinned, threw his hammer to the ground and opened his arms wide. "Shoot me." He said, with full confidence. He had a point to prove, so he even began to undo his metal armour chestpiece and exposed his brown, hairy chest. "Go ahead, shoot me right here, I dare you." He was starting to realise things were getting out of hand. Again he reminded himself that the psycho had ran out and he was suffering limited mental capacity, but he didn't really care. Chip was saying something about his collar. About finding the frequency. Greshken ignored him. He would have to have a slave collar frequency emitter, otherwise simply finding the right frequency would still not be sufficient to detonate it. He was quite surprised that out of all ponies, it was chip that attempted to strike lowest below the belt of all. Staring Crackshot in the eyes, he kept grinning at him. "Come on, it will help me calm down. Shoot me. Try to 'put me down' like you so eloquently put it." He dared the stallion.

Greshken was very tempted to just start punching things. "That shaman made a spirit intrude my mind!" He said as he pointed towards Ezekiel. "He messed with my head and made me see things I locked away and hid from myself." He explained in a voice that was shivering with barely controlled anger. "You better tell me you didn't see any of that." He said towards Ezekiel. Chip was foolish enough to jump in between them. "Stop trying to sacrifice yourself, it's not like there's a greater good to do it for." He grumbled, and he turned around to snap at Crackshot. "And you should stop ordering me around." Then Ezekiel feel unconscious to the ground. He put his hands to his head and sighed. "What the fuck is happening." His head was still spinning with what had just happened, but he would not give in to this emotion

Greshken could feel the spirit take hold of his mind. It was intruding privacy. He wanted to yell at the Zebra, hit him with his hammer, but it was already too late. With a surge of pain going through his head, he fell to his knees and put his right hand to his forehead, frowning and groaning slightly. He was fighting for every inch that the spirit was trying to gain on him. Emotions flashed before him. Old memories and strange thoughts dawned to him. (What the spirit sees in Greshkens soul) Only moments had passed when Greshken regained control. He stood up and punched the ground in anger. He stood up, his face twisted with rage. He was starting at the Zebra with wide-open, bloodshot eyes. "Give me one reason not to murder you RIGHT NOW!" he yelled, controlling his anger as far as he could. His fists were clenched and sweaty, and he was breezing out of his nose heavily.

@@Steel Accord "Spirit? My purpose?" Greshken stammered, thinknig this entire situation was nonesense. "What are you talking about. Why is this zebra asking for my purpose. My purpose belongs to me and me only!" he snarled, confused by the entire situation, though perhaps it was the psycho that was starting to wear off. "Why would I share such personal aspects of my being?" Greshken clearly wasn't keen on giving away anything about himself.

Greshken looked back at Chip, who had already begun working on the cannon for him. Even though he had lost some respect because of the fit he threw a moment ago, he couldn't help but feel sympathy for the guy. He was so keen on helping him out, it surprised him. He quickly did as asked and smashed the disperser to bits with his hammer, and continued to walk towards the tank to assist Chip with lifting out the heavy machinery. Then, suddendly, a zebra who he had never seen before, started chanting a strange drivel that made no sense to him whatsoever. It sounded, looked and smelled an awful lot like magic, and he couldn't be far off because for some reason the entire tank began creaking. He had no idea who this pony was, and regarded him as a threat. He grabbed his hammer and looked at Chip, who seemed to recognise the zebra. "Chip, who the fuck is this guy and what is he doing!" He shouted, not panicking, but demanding an answer immediately.

Simply observing the situation that developed before him, Greshken frowned. He didn’t approve of this dramatic nonsense and sugary crap. “Oh how broken we all are…” He mumbled grumpily as he started patrolling around the tank, inspecting it, trying to figure out how the one he’d seen in the past was made. “So irreversibly torn apart by our past…” He said, sarcastically being overly melodramatic. His hoofstomps were heavy, almost as if he was trying to punch his anger into the ground, making it leave is body. “Terribly scarred by the harsh environment of the waste, unable to pick ourselves up and fix ourselves…” Greshken stood still. If the ponies had been listening to him, they would’ve heard him. He wasn’t exactly trying to hide his thoughts either. “Weak…” He grumbled. “Weak in the mind and spirit, and weak in the body. How could I have ever thought otherwise.” he continued talking to himself, his eyes beaming his pure loathing and hatred. “But they will be forgiven. Some roads are only to be walked by a few, and others are blind to what lies ahead. What they have to become.” He watched Crackshot solemnly declare vengeance after making a scene about killing Chip because of his indirect involvement in the death of a few. Strange that Chip seems worried about his influence in spreading the virus, while his crafting of weaponry and tools have spread death across the wasteland far more significantly than he’d realise. Why did he only feel the guilt now, while he has been the salesman of murder since he started creating arms? Why did he feel guilt at all? “Everything withers and dies eventually anyway.” He mumbled, and he faced away from the group of ponies to close the distance between him and the tank, and take a closer look.

Crackshot was curious, and Greshken saw no reason to hide his plan from him. "The idea is simple, but the execution is difficult. There was once a great minotaur, whose name is unimportant, who wielded a repurposed cannon of a tank loose from it's veichle in his very own hands." He explained. He remembered several glorious battles won with that weapon. "Granted that he wasn't as accurate as a tank would've been, it still made quite an effective and intimidation weapon." He elaborated further. He gestured towards the tank. "To make the weapon is not very difficult. To wield and use it properly will be a challenge, but that is something I can practice on." He stood still a short distance away from the tank after he had been warned of the virus, even though he was still sceptical it could harm him than easily.

Without looking up from his work, Greshken replied to Dashia: "What I am making now is not a work of science or mechanics, but one of tribal wisdom and survival. You cannot assist me with this." He explained, as he took a final look at his improved suit of armour. The different coloured Gecko hides didn't exactly make it look more fashionable, but it would help him resist the dangers of the wastes. "However." He said to Dashia, as he stood up and began to equip his armour again. "You can help me and chip with a weapon we're attempting to construct." As he fastened his bracers around his forearms, he inspected it's new layer, checking if it would stay put properly. "That is quite a difficult task. It is of complexity I'm unfamiliar with. If you help me, and we succeed in creating the weapon, I'll consider us..." he paused for a moment. He was about to use a word he barely ever used. He looked Dashia in the eyes. "Friends..." Greshken seemed surprised with him making this remark himself, and shook his head while quickly walking off to meet up with Chip. He had already begun to work on the tank. "If we start with cutting out the parts we need, we can continue from there." He said. He imagined that after roughly ccutting out the barrel and it's loading and firing mechanism, a lot of work would have to be done to make it lighter and wieldable. Cut off as much unnescesary plating as possible, make proper handgrips and a counterweight to balance the barrel up more easily. Of course, he was confident that together they were competent to make this legendary weapon, one of his childhood dreams, a reality.

@@Windbreaker To Poppy's approvement, he gave a simple nod, and Scribblegroove silently accompanied her down to the docks. She didn't seem like she wanted to talk at the moment. He himself enjoyed the silence as well. Just listening to the environment. It made him feel a little more calm. He had the tendency to let things get to him quite quickly, but walking outside like this, even though he felt a little sick, made him feel a lot better. The sound of the waters clashing with the stones, rushing down the mountain in the distance slowly became louder as they approached the lake. It was a vague background rustle, like white-noise, but closer to the water, where the soundwaves didn't have any obstructions, it became a lot clearer. This made Scribblegroove think. if there were rapids downstream, the town couldn't possibly send boats away from the town, and quite obviously other boats couldn't enter through it. It felt like yet another barrier around the isolated Bloodwell. But his attention was distracted from the noise by a pony working with fishing nets, attempting to pull them out of the lake. She seemed to have some trouble with it, but Scribblegroove was more curious than worried. Looking around, he noticed the docks weren't exactly very well-preserved, like many other places in the town. He nodded towards Poppy. "Well, at least it all looks quite rustic..." he joked, looking a bit sorrowful at the fair share of rotting wood and rusing metal rims, broken equipment and unused piers.

Light. Blinding, burning light fell into the small slids between Greshken's eyelids. He grunted in pain. Something was most definitely wrong with his head. He remembered little of last night. He remembered the startling realisation that Drinking alcohol and taking Psycho was a very bad idea, and just about passing out right afterwards. He remembered the fire blazing high above him, growls and screams, strange jibbering and colourful lights everywhere. He remembered not being able to speak, move or even think clearly. Everything was a blur, and now that the effects of the alcohol were gone, only the side effects of the Psycho remained... Slowly, he sat up, putting his hands to his head and grunting again. This time it was almost a beastly growl. [intelligence -2 because of Psycho addiction] His head was dull, and chaos reigned in his mind. Even seeing straight was a problem. All he could think of was releasing his mind from this numbing prison with another sweet dose of the envigorating drug. He got on his hooves, stumbled, almost crashed into the door post, and walked outside. He remembered the small concrete shed, probably a place for storage, where he had been held captive the day before. He might find more of his old Psycho there. Otherwise, his old equipment would be in the other barn... which had burned down together with the virus. Stumbling, having trouble walking in a straight line because of a strange buzzing in his head that doubled his sight, he eventually reached the small building, or more walked into it. With his hands against the wall, he walked inside, and started with going through a small duffle bag. He almost moaned in relief when he found the familiar looking blue syringe in the leather satchel. Without a moment of hesitation he injected into his bloodstream. Immediately his head cleared the mist of chaos and flashes of colour, and his sight returned to normal. He gasped, and then grinned, feeling the strange, adrenaline inducing drug empower his body. But he quickly regained control of himself. He didn't want the others to notice his weakness. Hopefully they'd come across some fixer sometime soon, otherwise he'd be dull as a bone when he ran out of Psycho doses. He returned to remained of the pyre of yesterday. Buried in the ashes were the gecko hides he had worked on yesterday. They seemed to be more tough than usual (side effect of the fire spirit). For some reason the fire had been more powerful than usual, because Gecko hides only became this strong when they were heated in very powerful forges. Retrieving them from the ashes, he tested how far they could bend. Not very far, which would make it difficult to work with them. But he would manage. He started to undo his armour, revealing the strange vault-suit underneath it. It did not bear a number on it's back, but instead had a yellow 0 with two horns sticking out of it as symbol. It looked like an official vault jumpsuit, but it was made for minotaurs like him. He then sat down, his legs crossed, and began to attach the hides to the back, shoulders and bracers of the reïnforced metal armour, using bolts, screws and pieces of metal wire to keep them in place. It wasn't a very lengthy job, but it required a lot of force to bend the hides into shape. Luckily, Greshken had more than enough of that. It felt calming to work like this, alone for a moment. He was still contemplating his doubts on joining this group in their endeavour to stop the strange, unknown virus. That was when he realised that he didn't fell asleep inside the house. They must've dragged him there... "These ponies do seem... compassionate. That is a first." He thought, staring at the tracks that his heavy body had left in the dirt as they had dragged him inside the building.

Greshken frowned. He seemed disgruntled by what Dashia had said. "What you ask of me is a thing of my past, yet you say we should let it rest. You say you decline my offer, but proceed to make advances on it anyway." As confused as he was, he decided to let it rest, blaming his knuckleheadedness that he did not understand. "You speak in strange circles, but I will tell you what you ask of me." He declared. Looking at the others, who were listening as well, he took his Super Sledge from his back and helt it over the fire for a few seconds, so it could bask in the light. It was an advanced piece of technology, but weathered and old. "Sasha was the prized posession of champion Thar'seer the Withered once. He gave it up one day, claiming to have become too old and weak to deserve to wield it." He explained the legend of the weapons past as if it were a fairytale to him. "A contest was held. The young fought each other ferociously to prove that they were worthy of wielding Sasha in battle. Some fought with weapons, others with their bare hands and horns." He sighed, but there was excitement in his eyes. "Four young ones died that day, blood shed in the name of the weapon's glory. Two of them were slain by me. I was the strongest of the pack, and Sasha was handed down to me by Thar'seer himself." He stared at his hammer, glowing in the flames, taking in it's aura of death and destruction. Basking in it's glory. For the first time a genuine smile appeared on his face. "Thar'seer died not long afterwards. People claim he had gone insane and tried to battle a deathclaw without a single weapon, and dissapeared into their breeding caves." Childlike wonder and amazement lit up Greshkens eyes, but his face remained vacant of emotion. "But I know better. He befriended them, and learned of their ways until the end of his days..." The hammer was placed back where it had came from. On his back. "Thar'seer had been the one to choose Sasha from the great armoury when the vaults first opened. I'm it's second owner since it's creation." And with that, his story had come to an end. "I hope you are content with my story. I feel it has sufficed my debt to you." He said to Dashia. He grabbed another one of his steaks out of the fire. They were medium at this point, and he didn't like them any more cooked than that, so if he didn't take it out now he'd have to throw it away. He chewed it absent-mindedly, and asked: "Any of you got more heavy drinks for me?"

@@Midnight_Aurora "He ran?" Greshken whispered, clearly upset by this unexpected news. "That must be Voldar Ravensgreed. He always used to wear shiny things and wield shining weapons... And he was always a coward." he didn't tell her this however. Ravensgreed was a sneaky and coy fellow. He had the tendency to use others, and convince them of his well-doing using his impeccable charisma. But Greshken had enough emapthy to realise that he shouldn't tell the mare this, otherwise he could perhaps upset her. "I've heard enough. Thank you for sharing me this story of yours." He grunted. He straightened his back and looked at the stars. He felt like he owed this mare something now. Even though he wasn't quick to pay ponies back like this, he decided this time it would be appropriate. "If you wish, you may ask me a question about my past in return. That is a fair trade." He spoke as if it were goods they were trading. Stories and history were as valuable as ammo, guns and other tradeware to him.

@@Midnight_Aurora Greshken sunk back into his usual, emotionless attitude. "Appleoosa" he thought. "Never thought we'd stray apart as far as that..." he looked at Dashia, the light casting shadows on his face. He looked grim and dark, but his voice wasn't unfriendly. "Do you remember what he looked like?" he asked her. As far as he understood it, he had been a forced form of entertainment, like he had been. Having to do things... Insane things... to entertain insane ponies. Many of them had ended up like that. Like exotic attractions. "Do you remember how the people who forced him to do what he did. How they came to their end? Was it painful?" What he said next, he said slowly, and the full force of his grimness was loaded on those words. (Karma -25) "Did they burn... end them in the height of their agony? Did he make them suffer?"