[center][h1][b][i][color=82ca9d]Astri[/color][color=orangered]dgette[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://media.giphy.com/media/9MTgZhSSFTTkQ/giphy.gif[/img][/center] [hr][hr] Cresting the low hill came a sight not commonly seen in this part of the world, or any really under common expectation. But it was a new world, or rather, the New Dark Age of the same old world. Looking at it from that point of view, the sight really shouldn’t have been that unexpected.    Two women on horseback made their way down Smokey Rd, south and west of Newnan proper. They were armored and garbed like time travelers who hit the wrong number on the dial, mistakenly showing up a millennium or so late for one of the many Scandinavian incursions onto Saxon lands. One of the women rode point, if only slightly, eyes bright and searching for anything of note in the scenery before them. She wore a long hauberk of heavy gauge chain mail, matte of color with impressive coverage, and bore a large Viking roundshield on her back. One hand grasped a winged spear, taller than herself, the other hand controlling the reins of her destrier. Were one to look closely, they would notice more modern clothing peeking from underneath her armor.    The other woman’s horse was hitched to a wagon, pulling goods of some kind, not discernible to any outside of the transport. She looked like a relic from a former era, even more so than her counter part. Each bit of leather on her corset and her pauldrons reeked old world craftsmanship and endless battles. Her cornflower blue tunic which lay beneath her seemingly restrictive binds was stained in blood and mended several times over. Blonde hair was intricately braided back out of her face and flowed halfway down her back; partially covering the round shield secured there. The sheath of her sword bounced against the top of her boots with each stride of the pearl white draft horse on which she was mounted. The cart rolled steadily behind her with each clack of her steeds shoes against the concrete.    Off in the distance just ahead of them a single Walker shambled down the street as if it was following something that had passed long before they arrived; only to finally divert his attention towards the women as he heard one of the horses ninny behind him. [color=82ca9d]”Bri, got a live one,”[/color] she called out as she glanced towards her lone companion of the last year.    [color=orangered]”Yeah, Astrid. I see him. Gimmie a sec.”[/color]        Bridgette nudged her horse forward, unslinging her steel reinforced roundshield from her back. She slid her grip farther back on her spear, nearer to the spiked counterbalance on the butt end of the weapon. As the horse picked up speed, her blonde braids trailed behind her like a tournament favor. For a brief moment, she looked much more like her companion - a product of a simpler (and only slightly less horrifying) era.        Astrid pulled back on the reins and sat there, resting her hand over the hilt of her blade as she waited. Just because there was only one in sight currently did not mean there weren’t more. These things always seemed to travel in packs; like damn locusts just waiting for a fresh meal. They had survived this long by playing it smart about how they handled matters outside of their walls; they weren’t about to make some stupid mistake, like taking things for granted.        She closed the distance between their cart and the lone Biter in narrow seconds, her spear angled ahead of her like a light lance. The application of classically trained precision found the speartip deftly penetrating the eye socket of the shambling bastard, removing it from the unpleasant state of animation in which it resided. Bridgette angled her horse hard to the right and relaxed her arm, turning the animal about and freeing her blade from the undead skull without incident.        Trotting back to the wagon, the mounted anachronism took stock of their situation, really feeling out the events of the past couple of hours. Whenever they got to where they were going, she still wasn’t sure whether she wanted to help them or kill them. [center][h3]Four Hours Earlier[/h3][/center]    Astrid pulled on the leather straps of her horses pack, tightening things down. The night before hadn’t been too bad and they had been able to take a couple of shifts of sleep. It was time to get moving before the sun got too high in the sky and the heat of Hell, I mean Georgia, started to make itself known. Patting down Edgar, she rubbed his neck a bit before glancing over towards Bridgette. [color=82ca9d]”We need to move out soon.”[/color]            Then the sound hit, like a tornado only diesel fueled and Astrid’s brow arced slowly above one eye as her head turned. Stepping towards the tree line she picked up her shield and drew her long sword. Then she saw it, this monstrosity of a machine roaring down the street with some woman perched on top of the cab like a damned owl. [color=82ca9d]”What the hell was that?”[/color] she asked more to the air than actually to Bridgette but she figured her companion would answer her anyways in a very colorful manner.        [color=orangered]”It looks like a train grudge fucked a dump truck and put the kid through Catholic school.”[/color] Bridgette answered. [color=orangered]”Someone must have worked goddamn hard to make a truck that ugly. ”[/color] Astrid smirked slightly at Bri’s description, the woman had a way with words, especially when it came to cursing. She half wondered at times if the woman had some celt blood in her.        As much as Bridgette made fun of the vehicle, it was impressive. The machining alone that must have gone into it piqued her interest. Hell, just overcoming the road vibration factor when attaching the monster cowcatcher in the front must have taken weeks to figure out without electronics or internet research time. And unless she was mistaken, was that the scent of homemade liquor wafting faintly toward them? Yeah, if she ever ran across them again, she’d have questions.        But whatever asshole welded that thing together could have spent [i]some[/i] time prettying it up. Seriously.        Bridgette readied her own gear, checking and double checking. It was a morning ritual, just as upkeep was the prescribed ritual for the evenings. Her forge gear, hammers and tongs and whatnot, were all accounted for and carefully stashed away. Weapons were present and in perfect condition, melee and otherwise. Spear, axe, seax. In any Apocalypse, a girl that could make her own weapons was always one step ahead of the competition. Contrasting her partner, the younger Shield Maiden found use in the limited application of firearms. A double barreled Remington, sawed off and pistol gripped, was a girl’s best friend sometimes. That, and it hid nicely behind her shield.        Food was always a slippery commodity. She had a few cans of things, maybe some crackers. It was a halcyon month, a while back, when they came across a stash of Campbell’s Chunky Soup, but that eventually dwindled, as all supplies do. Well, they had enough for now. However long [i]now[/i] was.    While Astrid readied the wagon, and her Clydesdale to it, Bridgette saddled up her destrier mount, a young charger she pulled from a jousting stable named Cadence. The horse’s original owner wasn’t going to need it anymore, having succumbed to whatever flu killed off half of her people what seemed like ages ago. Saddlebags and tack, saddle, brushes, etc. All accounted for. Ok, morning ritual done, ready to ride out. Astrid finished hooking Edgar up to the cart and double checking that everything was in place. It would be another long day most likely, days were always long now. There was never just a day to relax and enjoy the world around you. If you took a break, you ended up dead; or worse. Stepping over to Edgar she placed her foot in the stirrup and pushed off the ground; swinging her leg over and resting down in the saddle as she took a hold of the reins. Giving Bridgette a slight nod that she was ready for her to go ahead and take point.        As per the norm, the lady with the more agile horse NOT attached to a wagon scouted out to make sure the path was clear. Being able to see the road from their concealed vantage was not quite the same as being able to see [i]up[/i] the road. Being on horseback had some significant advantages, but one disadvantage was a lack of ability to outrun most internal combustion engine vehicles on flat, open blacktop, if the driver chose to be an ass.        Everything looked clear, but there was a strange stillness in the woods around Bridgette that made her uneasy. She returned to their site, eager to be underway. [color=orangered]”Hey, girl. Looks clear. Let’s make with the fucking off, huh?[/color] Bridgette tied a pink bandanna over her braids, pulled the hood to her chain coat up, and reined Cadence back toward the road. Astrid nodded and gave a quick kick of her heel to her horses flanks; edging him forward until he was on the road and turning to ensure the wagon was settling right before continuing forward and down the road. [color=82ca9d]”Another day towards who the hell knows,”[/color] she muttered under her breath.        They were on the road for a good while afterwards, traveling at a leisurely pace. When you have no where specific to be, getting there on time just doesn’t have the same priority. The conversations varied throughout the morning.        [color=orangered]”Why the ass do you wear that leather all the time? Honestly, this is Georgia. You’ve going to smell like a foot wrapped in bacon by four o’clock.”[/color]     [color=82ca9d]”One, you would kill for some bacon right about now. And Two, like that damn chainmail of yours is any better. Keep wearing that shit and you’re gonna have a permanent hunch back.”[/color]    [color=orangered]”Hell no. Long coat of twelve gauge titanium wire mail. Twice as strong as steel, half the weight. Best part - AIR GETS THROUGH.[/color] ...        [color=orangered]”Hey, do these bracers make my ass look big?[/color] [color=82ca9d]”No, your ass makes those bracers look small.”[/color] [color=orangered]"Yeah. Go fuck a doorknob."[/color] ...        [color=orangered]”...and then the one Biter says to the other one, “Hey, does this taste [i]funny[/i] to you?” HA! Can’t remember where I heard it...”[/color] [color=82ca9d]”I think we need to find a joke book, you are really running out of material.”[/color] ...        Nearing the top of a rounded hill, Bridgette looked around to get a good lay of the land. What she saw behind her gave her pause. A horde. An honest to God wall of bodies lumbering up behind them; not close enough to have noticed them yet, but close enough that the warrior women could estimate numbers, speed, and make a quick prediction on survival chances if they stayed anywhere near it.        [color=orangered]”Wait. Hva faen? Fucking hell. We need to go.”[/color] Astrid shifted in her saddle and glanced over her shoulder. Well that wasn’t good at all. Grumbling a bit she glanced over towards Bridgette. [color=82ca9d]”I bet that damn machine that roared by earlier got their attention. They might want to work on making that thing a little quieter,”[/color] she snipped in annoyance. [center][h3]Back to Present[/h3][/center]        For now, as long as they kept moving forward, they were ok. Bridgette thought about that strange truck they passed them earlier. It was the kind of vehicle scrapyarded together by people with the means to do so. That meant walls, that meant tools. Probably meant food. Sure as hell meant people.        [color=orangered]”Hey, didn’t we pass some hole in the wall settlement up the road, like, a long-ass time ago?”[/color] Astrid nodded as they continued on their way. Luckily they had a bit of a lead on the hoard behind them and didn’t have to push their horses too much more to keep putting more distance between them but they would need to find one heck of a place to hold up over night if they didn’t want to end up a victory meal.        [color=orangered]”Think they may have built the place up some? I mean, that dump truck had to come from somewhere, right?” [/color] [color=82ca9d]”Oh, you mean Newnan? There wasn’t much there when the outbreak began but I guess they could have built it up more. ”[/color]        [color=orangered]”Well, that means the Horde back there’s headed right for them. That’s going to fuck with their weekend.”[/color] [color=82ca9d]”Well maybe if they didn’t build something that was basically ringing the dinner bell they wouldn’t have to worry about that damn hoard. It’s like they were asking for trouble.”[/color]        [color=orangered]”You think they’re following the truck? So those twatwaffles lured them onto us?[/color] [color=82ca9d]”Doubt they meant to, but seems like they aren’t thinking about what consequences come with a rig like that. I mean seriously. Rule one, keep quiet.”[/color]        [color=orangered]”Oh, I would love to shit in a box and mail it to those guys. Let’s go say hi to Newnan, then.”[/color] [color=82ca9d]”Yeah, about time we did I would say,”[/color] Astrid smirked as she nudged Edgar forward some more.        They had continued for some time like this, just ahead of the perception of the Horde, traveling up Smokey Rd at a constant pace, moving northeast. If the once small reclaimed portion of Newnan still stood, there would be walls to hide behind. Their fault or not, they had no idea an army of dead people were marching on their location. At least they could give advance warning. Astrid would glance back every so often to check on the progression of the hoard. She really did not like having so many within eye sight but it was better than not knowing where they were. If Newnan had standing walls, they better fucking let them in or it was going to be time for a good old fashion Viking Raid. Like hell she was going to get eaten because of someone else’s mistake. Whether they meant it or not she didn’t care at that point. It put her and her partner in danger.        If worse came to worst, their old home was a handful of miles in the same direction, anyway. If it still stood.               There were few people in the world nowadays, and even fewer before the outbreak, that could deal with the anxiety of riding horseback along a road at a moderate canter with a small army of soulless flesh-eating former people snarling up behind them. For women like these, it was part and parcel with being on the road for the past year. Not an everyday thing, mind you, but it wasn’t the first time they had to lead a slow chase against Biters while carrying precious cargo. [color=orangered]”Yeah, I remember this area now. Couple more miles, this road turns into Lagrange and takes us into Newnan proper. Almost there... Let’s put this into a higher gear.”[/color]