Voodoo - Salamank

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

There used to be forests hereabouts, and farm country to some degree, but that was a long damn time ago. These days whatever grows expends a great deal of effort to do so and looks as unappealing as possible in an attempt to avoid being eaten. As for the farming, well... Voodoo may at some point catch sight of a few creatures in the distance that look familiar. There were critters like that down in Point Lookout. Not a whole lot of vegetable farming to be seen, though, not around here.

Maybe it's that it's October.

Maybe not.

Either way, this is a place where you have to work damned hard to get anything out of the land at all, and not everybody necessarily appreciates that. Some people would rather just take what other people raise up. There's always somebody like that.

It's been a mighty quiet journey south towards Salamank. That wisp of smoke up ahead in the distance has a nasty, heavy, greasy look to it that doesn't exactly promise more quiet.

Comments

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"About my daughter's height," says Thomas, indicating Antoinette's height with one hand. "Keeps half her head shaved, wears all the rest of her hair over to the right. Dark skin, and a lot of rings in her ears. She's a full-time guard at Peter Minner's general store."

[boston_bruiser]

"I'll go talk to her."

He stops in the doorway, leaning on the frame.

"One more thing. Teach your daughter how to shoot, or get someone who knows how to. It'll be the difference between her burying you and you burying her."

He looks at Thomas over the frames of his sunglasses.

"You get me?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"A-all right," says Thomas. "I don't think she'll argue much after everything that's just happened. Thank you, Voodoo."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo nods, once, then shoves off.

After collecting the allotted poundage of pork promised him from Penelope, the next stop is the south side of town. There's more people here than at the gates, and a few business-owner types, but only one of the women's got her head half-shaved and has an earful of rings.

He stops in front of her.

"Yinzerella?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

She's in the process of working up some more rings with a pair of pliers and some salvaged but clean scrap wire; she doesn't even look up as she says, "Who wants to know?"

[boston_bruiser]

"Someone who wants to know everything you do about the Long 80."

One of the raiders had a rifle similar to hers. He digs into his vest and procures a magazine, placing it on the table in front of her.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The mag gets an interested look; she sets the pliers aside, then glances up. "Heading south?" she says. "Planning on trying to grab someone on the other side, or is there a man who doesn't know he's dead yet?"

[boston_bruiser]

"Neither."

He crosses his arms.

"Tryin' to get to D.C. Got a friend with the Brotherhood of Steel."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Up go the eyebrows. "Is that right?" she says. "I'd ask who, but I only got maybe two names of theirs anyways. I don't know how many of 'em there are in the Capital, but it's gotta be a lot more than that. You're gonna have a hell of a time getting through Weed territory, let me tell you."

[boston_bruiser]

"Oh yeah?"

He inclines his head, listening closely.

"Tell me why."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"The Weeds," says Yinzerella, "they got everything between Treasure Lake and Clearfield. Gang that wants to be a tribe, that bunch. Half of them are Senecas who killed somebody or raped somebody or broke some other law here and ran before the Nation could hang 'em. They mob traders, run down caravans- any way they can get their hands on better guns and better chems. Not the kind that get them high, though. Shit like Buffout and Psycho, to keep them on their feet longer and fighting harder. You shoot one of them, he'll know it, but he won't give a shit about it. Won't even slow him down, not 'til he's dead."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo grunts. Intoxicated combatants. That's nothing new. Just means he'll have to watch his shots more closely.

"Tell me everything you know about 'em. Their territory, their leader, their tactics, whatever you remember."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"If it puts more of them in the ground, sure," says Yinzerella, shrugging. "Bastards used to sell prisoners to the Pitt. Then they lost their market, so if they take somebody alive, well, they ain't above keeping their own slaves an' all that. Mostly so's they have meat shields, since they give 'em machetes and the worst leather they got and make them the first wave in a fight. They don't get chems. The Weeds save that and the good armor for themselves. Real fond of shotguns, too, and explosives. Closest I came to dying on my way up here was one of them pitching some kind of bomb packed with shrapnel. I got scars so bad from that thing you could almost read 'em."

[boston_bruiser]

Another grunt and nod.

"So how'd you make it through?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"The whole area's full of old trees," says Yinzerella. "Not much to look at, and not much in the way of cover, but if you can snatch a couple of bags of boom off a dead man, you can drop a lot of branches between you and anybody trying to get a bead on you. Got me enough breathing room to find a lake not too far from what's left of a north-south road and swim for it. Kind of surprised I got out of the water alive, after seeing what happens if you fall in the river in the Pitt, but it didn't leave a mark on me, so I came out ahead."

[boston_bruiser]

"Yeah, I'd say you did."

He scratches his jaw.

"If you had to guess, what would you say about the size of their territory? Any particularly concentrated pockets of them?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Worst pocket I can think of is where the Eighty splits for a while," says Yinzerella. "The old road goes up into the air, two separate strips about a house's width apart. They've got that part fortified an' all that. That's heading east from Treasure Lake, a little before the terrain starts really rolling. But they're all through that twenty-mile area."

[boston_bruiser]

Looks like he'll tangle with these guys sooner or later, then. No two ways about it.

"Thanks." He nods and turns to leave.

Then he stops and looks over his shoulder.

"One more thing. There a way outta here 'sides the north gate?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Yeah, they got one in each direction," says Yinzerella. "Biggest gate's on the west side of town. They've got that one all painted up real pretty. But they all work."

[boston_bruiser]

"'preciate it."

He heads out the south gate, and another day passes in Salamank.