The Krivbeknih

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The door opens onto a long, narrow spit of rock. Brackish water rises on both sides. "Sorry about this," Ellen says, "but this was the easiest door for me to bring you through without either trying to navigate the swamps alone or taking the chance of running into the other two Paladins. We're at the entrance to a lighthouse off the southern shoreline of the swamp area right now. I'll show you my Pip-Boy map as soon as we're on proper ground."

Comments

[boston_bruiser]

Ah, shit. This is where the tribal has the upper hand - he knows the land; Voodoo doesn't. Still, Voodoo's agile enough to dodge most of what the tribal sends his way, and what he isn't is deflected off his vest with PLINKs and PLUNKs.

(He's quick enough to throw some of it back.)

"Drop where you are and I will not beat the living shit out of you!"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"I fear no mortal man or mortal blade!" screams the tribal as he begins hopping from tussock to tussock and fallen log to fallen log. "Arise, o scaly ones, and grant me aid!"

Oh, look, that one particularly brown and unpleasant pool off to the right is swelling with the massive bulk of one of the catfish...

[boston_bruiser]

"OH MY GOD JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP."

Sorry, Mister Fish. You're gonna be on the wrong end of a frag grenade in a second or two.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The catfish are huge and mutated and ugly, but they're just that- catfish. They don't talk.

Unless it's to say "Blorp?" in a confused sort of fashion right before scattering themselves over a considerable radius of surrounding swamp.

(And, if we are being honest, over a considerable amount of very surprised tribal, who looks like Gilderoy Lockhart when the wand broke in his hand. But hey, at least he's quiet.)

[boston_bruiser]

(Which Voodoo will appreciate after everything's said and done.)

Voodoo executes his very best Ray Lewis impersonation on the tribal, and it produces a CRUMP that would make any linebacker shed a tear of joy. But Voodoo doesn't offer him a moment of respite - instead, he wrenches the tribal facedown into the mud, holding his head down with one hand as he pats him down with the other.

"You know how this goes, shithead. Hands where I can see them or I hurt you like this."

Betcha didn't know your ulnar could hurt that much, didja?

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

He's wearing what amounts to a well-loved and oft-repaired ghillie suit, albeit minus the sleeves and with some rather odd bits of artificial plant life woven into it. That said, he's carrying kind of an amazing number of knives, which becomes evident during the patdown.

"This insult you'll regret- so do I swear-" he manages to get out, and then the mud up his nose is a bit too much even for him. Sullenly, he puts his hands within Voodoo's line of sight and reach.

[boston_bruiser]

"That's more like it. Now shut the fuck up."

Voodoo takes out a pair of flexicuffs, wrenches the man's arms behind his back, and threads them onto the man's wrists, tightening the straps once he's satisfied with the positioning. Then begins the process of - sweet mother of Mary, how many knives does this guy have?

Voodoo shakes his head, tossing knife after knife out of the guy's reach. "Jeezus, pal," he says, dangling two choice ones in front of the man's eyes, "I'd direct you to a steakhouse, but I get a feeling it'd just be one'a those 'day late, dollar short' things."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The man tries to draw breath to declaim (you can't really call what he does 'speaking'), but thinks better of it. Especially since there's a clanking of Tesla armor coming from a direction he can't see.

"Found our hostage, Voodoo," Ellen's helmet-muffled voice says. "Looks like he couldn't round up another lobotomy tribal, so he went after one of his own. Ma'am, is there something you want to say to our friend here?"

The woman is a redhead somewhat taller than Ellen, dressed in a patched, faded blue dress that could have been sold at a Renaissance Faire at some point in time. At the sight of the man on the ground her eyes harden, and she nods. "To him indeed I'll speak, but not with words," she says. "His ribs, I think. I'll introduce my foot; and then a dozen times or more repeat. He never was the sort to listen well."

[boston_bruiser]

And that's pretty reasonable, as far as demands go.

So Voodoo shrugs and grabs the man by his arm. "Lady," he says, turning him over on his back, "be my guest."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The woman hitches up her muddy skirts and stalks over to the prone fellow. "You stinking wretch! You base-born spawn of swine!" she shouts, delivering a remarkably swift kick to his midsection. "You've failed in every part before you set; in this you somehow managed to succeed? Murdering fiend! I'll have your balls for this-"

"I think you'll not! I'll call upon that Power, the one whose- aigh! Fie! Fie! Lay off my spleen!"

"You know, if he hadn't been committing human sacrifice in the name of characters created for a two hundred year old comic book, this would be kind of hilarious," Ellen murmurs.

[boston_bruiser]

"I know, right?"

Voodoo's stood back to watch the proceedings with Ellen, arms crossed over his chest. (Talk about laser-guided karma.)

"I don't see any reason to break it up just yet. You?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"I was kind of thinking of telling him I could recite about half his sacred book from memory, but I'm pretty sure his would-be victim there can humiliate him enough that it would just be overkill," Ellen says. "Although now I'm wondering- hey, ma'am? Ma'am?"

The woman pauses mid-kick, looking up with fire in her eyes.

"My companion and I were wondering- considering what this man's done, what would happen to him if we left him to the justice of his own people?"

"A favor we would owe, no doubt of that," says the woman. "He brings disgrace and wrath upon us all, seeking to consort with powers dire and gain himself forbidden craft and art."

"So you're saying your people don't consider th- the book he was using-" She'd been about to say this book and thought better of it. "-particularly sacred?"

"Sacred, that filth? Oh, please- don't make me laugh," the woman says. "Our ancestors lay down the sacred scripts; they brought them here two centuries long hence, when trapped by fire from heaven they became. The book he sought is foreign filth and vile, and if you're wise you'll burn it into ash."

She turns back to eye the whimpering man on the ground.

"Methinks that same fate we might offer him."

[boston_bruiser]

It's a pity Voodoo doesn't have any willy pete to offer. It really is.

Instead, he taps Ellen on the shoulder and leans in to whisper in her ear.

(Well, as close as one can get to whispering in someone's ear when there's a gas mask and a power helmet in the way.)

"Dunno 'bout you? But I'm feelin' a mighty urge to beat feet and never look back."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Let's be fair," Ellen murmurs in reply. "She hasn't got any weapons on her, and this is a dangerous place. Leave his knives where she can find them and then we can beat feet."

The world is better off without him, but Ellen figures she doesn't always have to be the one to make it that way. Not when there are clearly other people willing to do so.

"Dogmeat, c'mon. Let's leave the nice lady alone, okay? I think she's going to be busy for a while."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo shrugs. "Fair 'nough."

And so he drops the knives at his feet, within easy view.

He'd call the woman's attention to it, but - she seems pretty occupied with the beatdown she's giving that dude. And he's cool with that.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The woman looks up and gives a fierce nod in reply. "You have my thanks, good sir and lady both," she says. "May all your journeys through this place be safe."

With that she goes back to her business. Ellen smiles a little, gestures to Dogmeat, and sets off through the trees again in the direction of Obadiah Blackhall's home.


[OOC: Fade here?]

OOC:

[boston_bruiser]

[Sounds good to me!]