[IC] SPIRITUM

Current Round: 6
The Barghests arrive at the site of the crashed ship. Wildly reacting mist permeates the area and Gerard has found the body of a member of the Vangar Diplomatic Honorguard

- as your characters begin to explore this area, feel free to send me a pm about what they intend to do, and I can feed you tidbits about what they might discover.

previous prompts

R. 5
The Barghests are spending the night outside doing- whatever it is they do. They are interrupted as they see the wreckage of a civilian airship falling out of the sky and crashing nearby.

R. 4
Justice manages to cool off the situation as some Marshalls arrive to confront them.

R. 3
The Barghests are getting settled in Sapple Springs, though far from smoothly. Tony's mere presence appears to have the locals riled up, and neither Silje nor Kalina seem to be making things better.

R. 2
The Barghest Squad has arrived in the town of Sapple Springs, a worn out old prospector's town with seemingly little to no through traffic

R. 1
The Barghest squad in their poorly maintained vehicle are on the High Road, an equally poorly maintained highway heading west. The closest town of Sapple Springs is half an hour away and the next stop on their journey.

[vietmyke]

Act 1: In Which Strange Occurrences are Begot.
_Music

A battered military cargo truck haphazardly painted a dull gray-blue, its paint chipping off in sections, shuddered along the patchy stretch of highway around the ass-end of Rassvet. The truck bumped and bobbed while barely maintaining its bearings as each wheel on a side fell a pothole. Sparse civilization gave way to rougher terrain, tweedy tan grass and short, shrubby trees that bowed lazily in the breeze, punctuated by the occasional outcropping of chalky stone. Here, there was no sign of the war, just as there was no sign of civilization- other than the rare road stop with its typical fixings. Just some kids piled into an old truck that frankly should've been decommissioned years ago with a roaring diesel engine held together by little more than a few loose bolts and hope, hanging on by straps tied to the rollbars and sitting on their field packs and cases of beer as they headed out for one last howl at the moon together- A road trip around Rassvet, to visit all the places they hadn’t had the chance to before.

Then, after that, they shipped off to the dangerous and very adult business of war. After a decade together, training, eating, fighting, annoying one another, it was almost strange to be apart, since they knew they were going to be broken up from Barghest Squad into replacements for various depleted WARDEN outfits on the front.

_Brrcaa^chh_nnkk

The truck lifted several inches off the ground and the radio scratched, throwing booze and bodies into the air for a brief moment as the truck collided with another pothole at approximately 70 miles per hour. There was another collective round of light-hearted groans as the truck bounced again for what must have been the fifth time in the last 15 minutes.

“For fucks sake, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were trying to hit every damn hole on the High Road.” Gerard grumbled irritably, his hand banging on the back of the more or less open cabin of the actual truck. Gerard was sat uncomfortably in the back of the truck with the rest of the squad, his dark hair whipping around his face as they had pulled off the tarp for some light and air-flow in lieu of air-conditioning. The sights of the countryside were beautiful to behold though, even for a city slicker like him, if a bit barren. Some passing Wyverns were viewable in the far distance, a flock of a dozen dark-green ones flying out west away from the more occupied lands of Rassvet.

In the center of the truck bed- acting as a makeshift table was a squat crate with a board nailed to it, a big radio in the holding down one corner of a alcohol-stained road map of Rassvet, the other corners held down by a knife, a half drunken bottle, and a few decks of cards that were each likely missing at least one or two cards. Glancing at the map, they were probably less than a half hour away from the nearest rest stop- a small town called Sapple Springs.

“Whose bright idea was it to let Kali drive?” Gerard remarked offhandedly, loud enough for the front of the truck to hear as well as he tossed a bottle of whiskey across the bed of the truck, telekinesis hitting it a moment later to guide it to the next open, waiting hand. Meanwhile, light rock and radio talk show phased in and out throughout the truck amidst crackling static, as the shaking shifted the already wobbly dials on the radio.

"-nd welcome back listeners of RPR and our continued coverage of the Vangar Conflict! There was hard fighting around the border town of Calty yesterday between Vangar and Rassvet forces in the current push to secure Fort Kelgrav. Brave Rassvet soldiers held out for several hours of fighting before making a tactical retreat to the neighboring town of Erret. On the Coastal Front: A supply carrier was sunk in the early hours of the morning a few miles off from Costa Del Sol by what appeared to be a Vangar Navy submarine. And in more hopeful news, Imperial Princess Colette Van Skymning, the youngest daughter of Emperor Léonard Van Skymning of Vangar arrives in Orestia late tomorrow as part of a peace delegation. Hostilities are set to temporarily cease at midnight tonight in preparation for said arrival. More on those talks within the hour."

”Don’t believe that for a second.” Gerard mocked the radio aloud, more to himself than anyone in particular, his hands already reaching for the radio dials. There was a sharp crack as he slapped the radio like one would a misbehaving child and the tune eventually shifted back to the light rock station. Gerard's sentiments weren’t new or uncommon- many, especially within the WARDENs, were rather skeptical about the idea of these peace talks having any particular effect, especially when up against a nation such as Vangar. As one of their own had so eloquently put it: Peace was a hard thing to work out when one country wanted complete and utter dominion over the other.

[Psyker Landshark]

Kalina Kovalic

She sat in the driver's seat, her expression impassive as the truck passed over another pothole. Hm. Judging by the sound, there still wasn't any structural damage. Beyond what was already there when Tony had acquired the truck, of course. Things were fine, then. No reason to slow down. Even in spite of the rest of Barghest Squad whining for no reason.

"Are you volunteering to drive?" Kalina called back in response to Gerard's complaints as she moved her right hand down to shift gears on the truck, keeping an eye on the police band scanner mounted on the dashboard in the corner of her eye. Driving efficiently also meant that they were breaking some speed limits, but they had a timetable to meet. "None of the rest of you are certified for defensive driving if we take fire on the road."

The radio was interrupted with a news broadcast, and Kalina strained her ears over the sound of the engine and the wind to listen in. Censored troop movements in civilian news was nothing new. Peace talks were a joke, but an Imperial Princess...? She raised an eyebrow in thought before the sound of the radio changing back to music interrupted her.

"I was listening to that, you know." Kalina called towards the back again. "Remind me why Command doesn't just assign some Firsts to take that girl hostage. She has to be worth some kind of leverage, doesn't she?"

[HeySeuss]

Tony wasn't precisely a prince, and the truck wasn't precisely a chariot, but he was certainly at his ease, up there in the passenger seat with a distinct air of ownership over the seat conveyed by his body language -- a loose posture, indolent and perhaps a tad insolent. Out in this part of Rassvet, he was down to a long-sleeved shirt, no collar, and a pair of jeans and workboots, looking mostly like a boondocker and a hinterlander, someone here to dig the post holes at the direction of bigger brains.

He kept one ear on the radio, but most of his focus was on a couple of small devices in a tray on his lap that he was messing with -- mostly by furrowing his brow and concentrating. Occasionally, a huff of breath out of frustration or a grunt of satisfaction came out of him, but it was worth noting that Tony had little to say to the gallery in the back.

Ever since the accident, about four years ago, Tony would slip into these moods as a defensive mechanism from boredom, a hyperfocus that allowed him to come out of that affair with less control or ability in Mist, but also a change in mentality and a certain degree of learned indifference to the things that other people puckered themselves over. Moody, sometimes remote and not necessarily communicative about what actually grinds him, Tony adopted a certain solitude even in a crowd, though if talked to about serious things like that, he'd inevitably fob it off with a joke. The concentration was evident, but practiced. Tony's Mist-use was unremarkable in a system that looked at raw power, but it was developing the sort of fine tuned control that allowed for a whole new system of options to occur.

But in a way, it was an improvement over the old Tony, who would bounce around in a situation like this, loudly and obviously unwilling to sit around when he could be doing pullups or something. This Tony was practicing with the Mist, doing 'reps' with the power to admittedly small parts and bits of wire, without an explanation as to his goal here.

So it might have been a surprise when he piped up on the Princess, "Might be worth offing her, but there might be things that make it more trouble than its worth, seeing as she's youngest. Killing one ups the security around the others. If she's being positioned to take the throne and she's smarter than the other chinless, jug-eared inbred sociopaths in charge, and knocking her off allows an idiot to inherit, it might be worth it or it might really backfire because stupidity in power is dynamic and volatile." he added, in a very bored sort of tone. It was typical Tony -- a skeptic's eye and a somewhat nonchalant delivery, but that goblin's brain of his churned around the concept and spat out the analysis. Mostly, Tony just liked committing lèse-majesté against the Vangar royal family. Funny enough, the Vangars invented that term.

He took the moment of situational awareness to look along the unrelieved vista of wadis and segarro scrub and other semi-arid flora, fauna and land features, matching it up against a map on the dash and checking time. It was so far away from the rest of the world that it almost felt like a moment of respite, of sand and wind and sunshine, of open terrain, the dun splashed with the vibrant sage green, all flashing past the truck as it barreled through the desert road. It let one pretend that this was all there was to it, at least for a time.

"It's nice to imagine a world without the fuckers, to be honest," Tony added, without specifying which fuckers, but it was probably aristocrats and the system alike. Tony harbored a casual disregard, but there was something deadly serious beneath the casualness. He was known for not particularly liking aristocracy, even if he, paradoxically, knew a few personally and somewhat liked them. But he was strange, off-putting and intense, and it was safe to say he didn't exactly have a pick of friends anyway. But Barghest, at least, at the very end now, was something similar to that. The strange thing about Tony was his bloody-minded fatalism and skepticism. He took a dark, bleak look at the world and seemed to draw an incongruous strength from its ambiguities, a carefully honed sense of grievance. Some got institutionalized and were already missing the Citadel, but Tony was breathing free air for the first and last time in ten years and he managed to make it while not turning into one of their little disciplined toy soldiers.

[OwO]

Justice

Justice was busy carving a hunk of wood with a knife. She liked keeping herself busy when Kalina was at the helm. Whether it was meditations or simple things to keep her hands busy, meaningless actions kept her senses dulled. Otherwise, she would feel everything: the rattling of every loose bolt, the movement of the asphalt underneath them, and every little thing in between.

Instead, she could focus on what was directly in front of her. The grains of wood being cut and peeled away. The sounds of the fibres breaking apart. The feeling of rough cut wood as she ran her thumb across the unfinished sculpture. Though, her sensitivity was quite useful at a time like this. Even with dulled senses, Justice braced herself and her knife before the truck would dip and bounce. It helped to not launch her knife at someone across the bed as she was whittling away.

The rough-cut bird was taking shape in her hand. Why she was carving a bird was of little significance beyond utility. It was a rounded lump with a tail and beak. In other words, it was simple to carve. Justice didn't have the patience to try to carve anything more complex.

Justice could feel the bottle of whiskey sail towards and past her. The vestiges of his telekinesis lingered on its surface like condensate. She didn't try to catch it. Not because she was busy carving, abstaining from drinking, or that she disliked the taste. She just thought it would be funny if Gerard flung the bottle out of the truck for no particular reason.

Her eyebrow rose as she heard Kalina and Tony speak about the princess. It was apparent that they were soldiers first and foremost. Or headcases. Probably both.

"Firsts? She's heading to the capital. You could kidnap her with a child that understands how zipties work." She answered Kalina before blowing loose splinters of wood off of her whittled bird. "Shitting up envoys only works once. We'd go back and forth sending every diplomats' head in a basket afterwards. Plus, seems to me that the princess isn't worth shit to them. I wouldn't put it past them to stab her in the back and leave a note saying 'Rassies did this' on her corpse. Or maybe they'd stick a bomb up her dress and blow it when they go to shake hands."

She paused for a brief moment before turning to face Kalina in the rear view mirror.

"Take that literally."

[Yankee]

La𝚗ce Bennett

It was a beautiful day. And sure, La𝚗ce had spent most of it in the back of a truck, but at least he was in good company.

The first part of their trip had gone so smoothly it was almost a dream now - and by smoothly, he really meant the road. The even pavement around the Citadel was like a gods' send compared to the rougher, dirt road they now found themselves on. Still, whenever the path in front of them stretched out flat for a while and the warm breeze passed over him, the chatter of his squad mate's drifting around him, La𝚗ce couldn't help but think that the team road trip was already the best idea they'd ever had.

...aaaaand then the potholes returned. A particularly nasty one drew complaints from the passengers, La𝚗ce among them. He winced as the truck landed back on the dirt. La𝚗ce didn't blame Kalina for the rough ride at all - it was a single, narrow stretch of shitty highway. Kind of hard to avoid anything.

As they continued rumbling down the path, La𝚗ce was quite content to listen to the others talk over the sound of staticky music and newscasters. Honestly, he'd gotten used to tuning out the public reports. In the barren, somewhat peaceful scrub-grass land they were passing through it would have been hard to believe there was a national conflict going on if he didn't know any better. Peace. It would be nice, but La𝚗ce was of the same mind as Gerard - he didn't think it was going to happen. Not any time soon at least, and definitely not due to these peace talks.

Music was much preferred, so he nodded in approval when Gerard happened to find them some tunes. Even without the broadcast going, some of the Barghest chimed in with their thoughts on it. It was to be expected. But it was also the same kind of stuff they talked about all the time (realistically, it was what had taken up so much of their lives), the kind of stuff La𝚗ce would rather put aside in favor of spending what little free time remained with the only people he could reasonably call friends.

"Hey, remind me, isn't a road trip like a vacation?" He asked, his tone good-natured, calling the rhetorical question to the group at large. "Y'know, like a break from everything? And you're all still- oh shit-"

In the middle of talking, La𝚗ce had snagged the whiskey Gerard had passed through the air, but another rough bump splashed part of the liquid out of the open top. He laughed, setting the bottle and what was left in it down onto the makeshift table. He glanced at the map as he did, poor thing accumulating more stains already. It was mostly unneeded, since they could see for miles ahead in the open landscape and the road was straight for as far as the eye could see, but it was good to check how close they were getting to any semblance of civilization. He was sure all of them would appreciate a chance to stretch out. Or he would, at the very least.

"Won't be too much longer!" He announced.

He wiped the alcohol off of him with his hand. He didn't sink so low as to taste it from his own skin, though the thought had crossed his mind. Instead he wiped it on his jeans while fishing a rag or something out for anyone else that had been in the splash zone.

A new song started from the radio, the notes striking familiar with La𝚗ce. His small grin grew wider before he reached over to turn the knob and raise the volume up.

[Vertigo]

__________________________________________________

Some complained about their speed, some seemed mostly indifferent to it, and then there was Silje, hooting in glee from her 'seat' atop the roof. She'd planted herself directly above the driver's seat, shouting words of encouragement and pleas of acceleration down at her friend. Most of it came out a muffled mess from the wind, though.

Of course, with the roof not meant to be seating a person — a shame if you asked her, it was only the best place to feel the wind ever — Silje'd had to get creative to stay on board. But with Mist at her fingertips, both figuratively and literally, she'd made-do well enough. There was a handle in the metal by her legs, moulded from the roof with fingers made hot by Mist. She'd held onto it for a while, letting the rest of her body swing any way the wind blew. When she'd grown tired of it and her back had ached for a respite, she'd created a wall of Mist behind her to lean against — the most she'd ever used her barrier magic so far.

Now, she'd literally glued her legs to the roof with Mist as the adhesive. It made her bare, usually colourless legs, sticking out from equally colourless shorts, glow a faint, pleasant blue.

Silje tipped her head back and emptied the rest of the can down her throat. Grape soda. Justice had forbidden her from touching alcohol for whatever reason, and considering how foul beer tasted to her, she didn't mind. It just meant she had her own personal stash of drinks that the others wouldn't touch! Not that she minded sharing her stuff. The shirt she was wearing, long enough to reach her thighs with ease, had been likewise 'borrowed' from one of her friends. She hadn't asked, but she'd also not been told no, and that's what really mattered.

The unfortunate thing about her seating arrangement was that Silje barely heard a thing from the wind. When a conversation broke out over something said in the radio, though, she sure did try to listen. She caught bits and pieces; a princess, the capital, vacation, kidnapping, offing, and—

"A bomb up a dress!" was the part she honed in on, loud and amused, a grin cracking her face. She wasn't sure how much the others heard from the wind, but she didn't mind talking to just herself, either. Before she'd met the others, before she'd met Kalina, she'd done that a lot. "That's such a good idea! Oh, but, hmm, it'd be more efficient to just turn the dress itself into a bomb, I think. Like this!"

Even with a warning, it happened fast. Silje ran a thumb across the empty soda can in her hands, leaving a streak of red in her finger's wake. A deep, beautiful colour that seemed to seep into the aluminium itself, to bring the entire can into life against the monochrome that surrounded it. She pulled her hand back and tossed it forward with as much strength as she could muster — except, at 70 miles an hour, it was yanked backwards instead, detonating right above the rest of the crew behind her.

Oh. Well, at least she'd made the thing more for demonstrative purposes rather than to harm!

Silje whipped her head around to catch the last of the explosion, the quickly withering fingers of colour in the air, then let her gaze drop down to her companions. The sheepishness of her smile was ruined by the laugh that almost slipped past it. "Oopsie!"

[vietmyke]

Gerard Biserus

“If I can go the entire war without having to engage in something as menial as driving a truck, I'll be happy." Gerard replied haughtily, "Besides, we're on a single lane, straight road in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Who is going to shoot at us? Don't answer that." Gerard added in quickly. Even after the radio had changed, the conversation quickly branched into what could be done about the incoming Vangar royal and whether or not she would be captured, killed, or turned into some hit piece against Rassvet. Much to Lance's displeasure, when everyone on the truck was WARDEN, after 10 years of nothing but, shop-talk was hard to avoid. At least for some of them- for others, the conversation seemed to just quite literally fly over their head, as their conversation was interrupted by an explosion, small bits and fragments bouncing off a shimmering barrier that Gerard had constructed around the bed of the truck when they first started the trip.

Perhaps being around Silje had numbed Gerard to random acts of violence or explosions- maybe such a hardened attitude would stop him from panicking on the field, or more likely he'd pay too little caution to the sounds of actual explosions from enemy ordnance when the time came. Gerard glanced up to the roof of the truck cab that their resident time bomb was currently sat. He'd long since asking pointless questions like 'why?'. Silje would do what Siljes did, and it wasn't Gerard's job to keep her on a leash. It was currently Justice's, and soon enough it would be someone else's issue entirely. It was a wonder they hadn't all been terribly maimed already. Reaching into the cooler beneath his seat, Gerard drew another can of soda, and with another burst of telekinesis sent it flying up out of the truck and towards Silje on the roof. The battlemage thankfully, had been banned from the booze, though keeping her fueled with teeth rotting sugar syrup wasn't exactly cheap either.

"They probably care about the Princess little enough to send her here, but enough that they'd use her death as an excuse to carpet bomb us back to maker." Gerard commented dryly, his voice raising over the volume dial of the radio Lance was actively manipulating. "Political machinations are an enigma. Trying to understand them just kills my buzz."

Looking out the side of the truck and at the stretch of dirt along road, Gerard watched as a bullet shark the size of a cow broke out of the ground with a rumble. The sleek, smoothed metal of its armored carapace curling up like a ball as it rolled alongside the truck for a short while- likely sizing them up to see if they were worth its time- before breaking away and diving back into the rough, craggy soil. It probably smelled the etherium-disel the truck was burning, but they were either moving too fast, or didn't look tasty enough for it to bother with them. "Which one of us do you think scares off the most wildlife? My vote is Justice."

---

By the loosest definition of the term, one could barely consider Sapple Springs a town anymore. It was once a prospector’s town, but nobody tried to make it more than that, so when the Levistone ran dry its was only a matter of time till folks went looking for greener pastures. In their place abandoned machines, houses, and other refuse remained, a destitute collection splayed atop a small crest in the topography that jutted outward from the otherwise flat countryside like a sore. Along the old main street clung the last few stubborn remnants of life: a cramped looking Marshall's office, the rare and peculiar type of dive-bar that could only be found in the middle of nowhere and combination convenience store and gas station, connected to a rustic- and rusty- single storied motel called the Cloudgazer, if the sputtering neon sign mounted to the roof was to be believed. A small but persistent ecology thriving upon the slow yet ever constant trickle of vehicles down the High Road.

The military truck broke the solemn air as it crested the hill roaring with life: music still blaring, wheels scraping against gravel, inebriated voices unfit to communicate in hushed tones, and the grumble and groan of an engine running on fumes. Puttering to a stop underneath the LED lined canopy of the gas station, the engine gave a sputtered sigh of relief as the vehicle finally slowed down for a break. It would appear that the WARDENs were the only traffic that had come through the town that day, and while a few nosy heads poked out of windows to watch them, no one bothered stepping out of their respective buildings to welcome the travelers.

“More or less in once piece, frankly shocking.” Gerard said aloud, as he climbed out the side of the truck bed, gravel crunching beneath his leather shoes. "Wonder if it'll hold until we get to Bracca, much less Aporia or Del Sol." He asked as he stretched his long limbs and began making his way towards the front desk. While not made of money, Gerard- or more specifically his family, was more or less bankrolling their trip across the country, at least as far as lodging, food and fuel went, Gerard wasn't necessarily planning on paying for anyone's bad habits but his own. "We're only staying here for the evening right? Dust and gravel aren't good for my shoes."

[Psyker Landshark]

Kalina Kovalic

Well, if the princess wasn't worth anything, there wasn't any point to her idea, then. Kalina nodded at Justice explaining the joke, though the idea of a suicide bomber didn't sound quite so far-fetched to her. She opened her mouth to respond before an explosion from above cut her off.

Her mind went towards the obvious, her hand already moving to draw the pistol holstered on her hip. Ambush. It clearly hadn't been from behind, considering she'd been keeping a constant eye on the rear view mirrors. So that only left above. Kalina leaned slightly out the window, aiming her handgun upward only to see...Silje just lounging up top. It had only been her then.

Kalina flattened her stare slightly, giving her friend what passed for an exasperated look from her.

"Do you mind? I'm driving." Was all she said before sitting back down and putting her gun away. With a shake of her head, she continued gunning the engine down the High Road, going straight over another pothole.

___

They finally arrived at the spot some of the others had planned where Barghest Squad would be staying the night. Kalina maneuvered the truck into the lot and parked, dismounting with the rest.

"Beer me." She held a hand out, waiting for someone to toss her a lager from the cooler in the back. A glance around the town, such as it was. Unimpressive, and on its last legs. Reminded her of some of the bombed-out shitholes the Marauders had passed through when she was a child.

"I hope so." Kalina said in response to Gerard. "I thought you helped plan our itinerary. Or was it all Justice and Lance?" Admittedly, she'd barely paid any attention to what plans they'd actually made, short of remembering where to drive towards. But this trip wasn't for Kalina. At least, not in her eyes.

She pulled her phone out, briefly checking her mail. Annnnd...nothing. Command still hadn't responded to her request to be deployed with her father and the rest of the Marauders after this approved leave. A slight frown crossed her face. How irritating.

[OwO]

Justice

A tinge of disappointment washed over Justice as she felt Lance catch the booze. She wanted it to fly out the back of the truck. She could at least agree with what he was saying. They weren't here to have a soldier's commentary on current events. This was time for their vacation before they'd all be shipped away to war. Though, the only real difference between their vacation and their future duty was the expectation of being shot at.

Justice didn't pay too much mind to Silje's antics. She did little to stop them. It was less out of trust and more that she didn't quite care to put the Barghests on a leash. She could tell if they were about to cross a line. If Silje was about to detonate the truck's engine to leave them stranded as a funny joke, she would have stepped in. Until then, it was easier to just let the others be mildly annoyed.

As the bullet shark breached, Justice paused her woodcarving and gripped her knife tightly. For a brief moment, she had a look on her face as though she were daring the beast to try. It had rolled back into the ground by its own volition and Justice resumed the shaping of her little wooden bird.

"Meh," she said with the enthusiasm of drywall, "having a face that scares off the wildlife is useful. The worms would probably love you."

---

Justice's legs were finally able to stretch now that they reached their resting spot. It was the simple comforts in life that were pleasant. Things like being on mostly solid ground. On her way out of the truckbed, she had lobbed a can of booze at Kalina.

She didn't think much of the motel or the rest of the town. It was certainly dilapidated. In fact, she wasn't certain how many people would ever rent out a room here. Sapple Springs didn't exactly scream tourist destination. It was probably closer to a murder-based economy that relied on tourists going missing, if anything.

"One night, unless you plan to go sightseeing here. Maybe look at a few mineshafts?" She told Gerard.

[HeySeuss]

"Place looks swell, definitely a destination adventure, if you like being hunted by cannibals."

Tony knew how to make friends. But he also had to buy beer to keep the cooler up. It was 'his' turn.

Wearing a long-sleeved base layer, a pair of faded out jeans and a pair of workboots, he didn't really, couldn't really, blend in around here, not with that sign that said 'OUT OF TOWNER' floating over his head for every provincial jackass to see. The accent was different out here -- this was an arid desert type spot and Tony was from the real rednecky fuckoff alpine parts of Rassvet, but that didn't mean the hinterlanders all got along.

In any case, Tony wasn't one to wait around for Gerard or Justice to tell him how do things, so he decided to mosey on his own toward a general store of some sort, one with 'BIER!' in neon lights in the window. More like, "B ER" but that was fine, he broke the code. The place had the same look as the sticky-floors motel they'd parked in -- window mounted AC that indicated a lack of central air, and a slightly yellowish film on the walls that came from generational, family-wide cigarette smoking habits. He could absolutely smell the fuckin' patina.

The crazy part was that the girl behind the counter seemed like she'd be nice to talk to except for the frown and the obvious wrinkling of the nose -- it wasn't like he actually stank either. Seeing as there were other dudes and they were watching Tony like roosters defending their hens, he kind of figured that these folks were all in a social circle together. Like school, but with less live ammo and being assigned a squad. But he knew a social unit when he saw one.

The problem was, there was no way to intimate to them that they should find someone else to fuck with. He didn't, as a policy, wear branded 'WARDEN' shit that screamed 'CITADEL!" out because it was the best way to avoid the inevitable press of schlubby adults ready to thank him for compulsory service. He just didn't like the attention.

In any case, keeping his head on a swivel while trying to stay casual, Tony eased past racks of rural corner store wares with copious spacing between the items, indicating a low inventory and tough times to go with the extremely high prices, toward the comforting neon light and electric hum of a refrigeration unit. Behind that finger-printed glass on rust-flecked metal shelves lay what he was looking for -- four packs, six packs, big bottles of farmer-style beer with corks, thirty packs of canned stuff. He grabbed a couple bags of pretzels and even something spicy and cheesy in a jar to dip them in, as an afterthought. He didn't look too closely at the expiration dates, but he already knew that those were cordially ignored in wartime anyway.

He made a selection, some cheap canned piss in a twenty four pack because he wasn't made of money, and headed toward the counter, only to get the girl's roll of the eyes as a customer had the temerity to interrupt the giggling and flirting. Tony was doing his best here, not to overly notice the one other girl that seemed to be taken with one of the guys, and like four other dudes that looked like varying degrees of potential trouble, going by the set of their mouths and the way they watched as if annoyed to be interrupted.

He kept it to business, "G'tag," and a performative, perfunctory smile that indicated no interest in long speeches. He even had his wallet out, indicating 'tick-tock'.

"Gonna need ID for that," came a sullen response that seemed to work its way past compressed lips.

"Yeah, sure." Tony told her as he placed the items on the counter and fished into the wallet for his ID, which regrettably did have not only his name and information, but also his service designation and rank. He handed it over after a moment of hesitation.

He didn't like the vibe with the dudes, but until one said something, he was just gonna get this cashout done.

It took a moment for her to run all the numbers, but she came out with the cost and it was amazing to Tony that she managed to keep a straight face when she said, "60 gils."

Tony burst out laughing, and that's when he knew he'd fucked up. One crack in the facade, just his luck.

"Something fuckin' funny there, stranger?" inquired a voice a little too close behind him for comfort. Local, and he knew which one was doing the talking -- the big number that had been the primary means of entertainment for the lady of the register, clearly a man about town given his height, shoulders and the look of someone used to fucking with people and getting away with it.

Tony, calmly, reached for one of the cans while handing the money over to the young woman, his face again straight. It didn't matter, he could just tell this was gonna go a certain way. He could respect bored, pissed and looking for adventure, but not when he was the adventure.

[Vertigo]

__________________________________________________

Once it became clear that no one was hurt by her little runaway explosive, Silje stopped trying to hide her amusement altogether and let herself break out into a giggle. She caught the soda Gerard sent her way, sticking her tongue out in gratitude. Before she could open her next dose of sugary goodness however, she noticed movement in her peripheral vision.

Silje turned, staring directly into the barrel of a gun. It was Kalina, serious as ever, ready to eliminate whatever threat she mistook her fireworks for. Silje waved her soda at her friend, but whatever feeling that was supposed to convey, if any, was left unclear.

The soda didn't make it far out of the can before they met another pothole.

-

As much as Silje had enjoyed their ride, getting to actually move her legs was a refreshing change of pace. She stretched every limb in every way she could think of, looking like a woman possessed as she furled and unfurled herself on repeat. Her legs itched from where she'd concentrated Mist on, and she kept scratching as she walked up to the others.

"Seems boring," she commented idly, taking in both their surroundings and her friends' comments. "Sleeping in a mineshaft would be cooler!"

Tony broke off from the rest and started towards a nearby store. Silje, with the contents of her last can still soaking through her shirt, followed suit. She needed to restock too, and maybe find some snacks.

She was browsing through a rack of magazines, sidetracked from her original quest, when she heard Tony's sudden burst of laughter from the counter. She raised her gaze from the upside-down magazine she didn't remember having picked up, and smiled. Oh, wow, Tony was making friends! And one of them was-- oh, she had to tell Kalina-!

Silje peeked back out of the store, looked around until she found who she was looking for, and started wildly gesturing behind her with a rolled up magazine. "Kali, Kali, come look, Tony's making friends! And one of them is just as clueless about jokes as you are. Look, that big one over there, the one that looks like he's been ran over by a buffalo!"

If she'd meant to make matters worse, her genuinely cheery tone gave none of it away.

[Psyker Landshark]

Kalina Kovalic

Silje's declaration had Kalina looking up from her phone. What was she talking about now? A glance over in the direction Silje was vaguely waving towards revealed a story very different from what she was painting it as. From the looks of it, Tony was being outright accosted by the locals. He could handle himself, sure. But the whole point of being a squad was that he wouldn't have to. Might as well go provide some backup.

"Even I can tell that's not friendly, you know." Kalina said dryly to Silje, already starting to march over. "Sit tight, don't escalate unless they do."

Kalina barged into the store, shoving the door aside. Unlike Tony, she hadn't quite bothered to make much of an effort to look like a civilian, her armorweave jacket obvious over her business casual wear. The pistol strapped to her thigh didn't help, either. She gave a dead-eyed stare towards every civvie in the store, her arms folded.

"There a problem?" She asked cooly, her voice even. Really, all these people were of age to enlist. There was a damn war on, what were they even doing just lazing about this hole in the middle of nowhere? Another one of those things she just didn't get.

[vietmyke]

Gerard Biserus

"A mineshaft does sound right up your alley." Gerard shot back at Justice drily, rolling his eyes as he walked off. "You'd feel right at home I bet. -and no, Silje, I still haven't forgot what happened last time we slept undergroud. You almost killed the lot of us- I think I still have ash in my lungs to this day."

The motel's equivalent to a front desk was little more than a counter facing the outside, faded paint and cracked walls surrounding a dingy windowsill with a rusty, weatherworn bell, and an equally weathered looking old man dozing off at his post. Seemingly used to the noises of the outdoors, the old man's leathery face didn't move an inch as Gerard approached, not that the young WARDEN could even see his eyes beneath the bushiest brows he'd ever seen. Pressing the button on the bell only garnered a dull thunk, and Gerard only tried it a few more times before he got fed up and rapped his knuckles on the wood in front of the man's face. Still, not a stir.

"I think the old-timer's dead." Gerard reported, tempted to just use his magic to pick up the keys from the back wall. He doubted the man would notice.

A few, agonizing minutes, and 180 Gil later, Gerard returned, a trio of keys on a ring and with considerably less patience than when he had left. The sooner they got out of this bumfuck desert the better, he decided. 180 Gil for three bedrooms was relatively cheap, but somehow still felt like highway robbery for a "town" like this. Returning to the others by the car, Gerard was about to open his mouth when he caught the commotion going on by the small equivalent of a convenience store. From what he could hear, Tony was making friends with the locals, and Silje and Kali were making things oh so much better.

"Oh that looks like it's going well." Gerard commented sarcastically as he began meandering his way over.

---

"I said, something fuckin' funny, stranger?" the local repeated, a meaty palm setting itself on the counter, putting an arm between Tony and the exit. The man was about Tony's height, maybe a half inch taller, and but with a broader build- not as defined and focused as a soldier's, but definitely of someone used to doing physical labor. His head was mostly clean shaven, making the popping vein clearly visible as Silje called out to her friends, her voice neither subtle nor tactful.

"What did you just fuckin' say?" the meathead of a civvie growled, turning to face the scrawny battlemage, face red and veins popping.

What tension there already was seemed to double as Kali stepped in. Not making a show of her gun, but not exactly hiding it either. Backs stood straighter, eyes narrowed, and at least one hand disappeared from view as eyes darted between the strangers and the apparent leader of the small band of civies. On the one hand, It was four big men to the WARDEN three. On the other hand, one of the three had a gun. Out of the corner of their eyes, the more perceptive of the WARDENs spotted the girl behind the register reach underneath the counter and push a button.

At basically the same time, the WARDENs could hear Gerard in their ear, making use of the squad's communication spells. "A reminder: I think homicide is illegal in most places- this one included. Just food for thought."

[OwO]

Justice

Perhaps Justice was in a good mood. Instead of snipping back at him, she just gave Gerard a slight chuckle. Maybe he was calling her an Olm.

Now that she was looking at it, such a place could definitely grow on her. There wasn't much going on. In fact, it was probably more accurate to say there was nothing going on. That, however, was part of the allure. The concrete seemed nice. The dirt and dust was adequate. If the war ended in her lifetime and she got to retire, would Justice return here and embrace a simple life? The answer to would be a resounding hell no. Even her current retirement plan of being KIA was better than being stuck here.

Her meaningless thoughts continued. Really, she was lucky that this place had nothing going for it. If it was a metropolitan city, Tony would probably be off fighting the homeless for their spare change. Silje would probably be on the verge of frying herself on a neon lights. Kali would have probably followed a stray cat and gotten lost. In such a place, surely none of the Barghest squad would get up to their usual delinquent antics.

Of course, she turned towards the general store after noticing that the squad truck had gotten notably quieter.

"Two minutes." She mumbled while pinching the bridge of her nose from exasperation.

---

Justice had entered the store rather calmly. While she wanted to kick the door off its hinges and drag the rest of the Barghests out by their ears, she had the cognizance to recognize that the act of kicking open a door at this point would probably start a fight. She had eyed up the goons as she entered. They were salt of the earth type people. Also known as people that Justice did not want to deal with.

"I'm the one who has to do all of the paperwork for an 'incident.' Do not start a fight in here. Go take it outside." She quickly stated to both sides before staring at the man who had obscured his hand from view. "Or, in fact, do start shit. Just take your gun, aim it right between my eyes, and pull the trigger. It would beat me having to deal with your sheriff and our military police."

Unlike the rest of the squad, Justice did have a level of threatening aura that the others didn't. Tony, as usual, was his hick self and hicks usually invited half-drunk brawls with a smile. Silje was, on all levels but cellular age, a small child who had spilled juice on themselves. Kalina, though she had a pistol, looked like she was halfway between gunfight and office work. Meanwhile, Justice had been wearing an old tank top given to all WARDENs in training that did nothing to hide any of her scars.

It didn't help that the look in her eyes was serious about being shot.

[Yankee]

La𝚗ce Bennett

The remainder of the ride (or this portion of it anyway, there was a lot more to go in general) was full of the squad's "normal" antics. It was kind of nice that they all could remain their usual selves - even the most unusual of them. After spending so long together, this being their last hurrah... no, bettering not to bring that up even just to himself. Like he'd said, this was a vacation. It was still much too early in to worry about things like that.

---

La𝚗ce hopped out of the back of the truck, glad to be able to stretch his legs. He raised his arms over his head and laced his fingers together, making a pleased noise when he finished unfolding himself. He fit right in alongside his peers in dusty jeans and a black tank top beneath a gray hoodie so threadbare that it was comfortable even in the heat. The slightly garish scarf he usually kept with him was pulled through the belt loops of his pants, and his orange hair was thoroughly windblown.

As they were speeding down the road, La𝚗ce could see Sapple Springs in all its by-gone glory. Actually being in it, well... "What do they call this kinda place again? ...'quaint'?"

That was probably a good word for it. Too good of a word maybe. La𝚗ce couldn't really hate places like this, stubbornly clinging to life while the world passed them by. That didn't mean he particularly liked them either though. He did roll his eyes at Gerard when he made the comment about it not being good for his shoes, making an exaggerated show out of it.

It had, in fact, been just he and Justice that had come up with their travel plans. No one else was interested, and so the route was focused more on efficiency than comfort. He had a feeling their squad leader might have slipped in one or two pit stops solely as a joke, but he hadn't called her on it.

"I'm sure there's all kinds of excitement here, like... playing is there a scorpion in my shoe? in the morning, and is a hillbilly gonna break into my room? at night." He said, glacing to Silje. He wiggled his fingers ominously as he spoke, but after a moment he seemed to realize that at least one of those things might happen for real. "Okay but actually, do check your shoes later."

While the others wandered away from the truck for the most part, La𝚗ce got to work unloading it. The WARDENs hadn't brought much in the first place - food and drink for the road, maybe a duffel filled with a couple changes of clothes (or more than a couple in Gerard's case). Still, wild animals or nosy humans could get into anything left in the bed overnight. Maybe one of the others could cast a barrier to keep them out now that he thought about it, but he'd already tossed a few bags over the side so might as well keep going.

When Silje had first called out to Kalina, La𝚗ce had just laughed and left them to it. He very much doubted Tony was actually making friends in there, but hopefully the thing about the buffalo didn't set anyone off. Then everyone had more or less made their way to the store and weren't coming back out of it.

Seeing as whatever situation was developing wasn't dying down, La𝚗ce jogged over to see what exactly was going on. He didn't enter the rundown store, instead coming up to stand by Gerard where they could see what was happening through the windows and run in if they were needed.

"Is this a new record?" he asked off-handedly, rubbing at his ear when Gerard's spell went off. He didn't actually think any of Barghest were going to kill these guys if a fight did break out. They were a ragtag bunch, yeah, but they were disciplined. La𝚗ce didn't know what set Tony off, or if Tony had set one of the locals off, but he was going to side with his friend and fellow squadmate even if it was the latter. Especially if it was the latter.

Then Justice stepped in to de-escalate... actually, that hardly sounded like de-escalating.

"I hate when she says shit like that," La𝚗ce sighed. Maybe "is a hillbilly gonna break into my room?" would actually be a real thing they'd have to worry about, along with the scorpions.

[Psyker Landshark]

Kalina Kovalic

Kalina was in full combat readiness mode when she'd walked through the door. Alright, so she was in that state at almost every point of time during the day. But it resulted in her easily noticing the disappearing hands on both the angry civilians and the girl behind the counter. Weapons, and a silent alarm. That cut her options significantly. Sure, Kalina wasn't going to have resorted to lethal force on civilians regardless, but local law enforcement showing up soon made it so that throwing the first punch wasn't a viable option. Not if she wanted to get out of this town without a night in the county jail, at least. Of course, if one of these yokels actually did manage to get a shot off against one of the squad, then all bets were off.

She started to open her mouth to respond to the sudden uptick in hostility, but Justice beat her to it. Huh. Was that how they were supposed to deal with civvies? Kalina was fairly certain the few civilian response courses they'd taken hadn't quite suggested this was the optimal method. Still, Justice would know better than her. That said...

"Girl behind the counter probably tripped a silent alarm. Expect police soon, boss." Kalina said flatly, but without much sense of urgency. She looked around at the various angry locals again, still not going for her gun just yet.

"I don't know what Tony said to rile you all up, and I honestly don't care. Grow a pair and get over it." Kalina said quietly, looking the leader straight in the eyes with an uncaring gaze.

[Vertigo]

__________________________________________________

Silje watched, magazine still clutched in one hand, as the situation... continued. It wasn't really escalating, considering no one was getting hurt, but everyone was too tense and on edge to say it was de-escalating either. Silje's own expression was locked into a faint smile, her eyes the only part of her that moved at all; a cat's gaze, flitting from one person to the next as they spoke.

Briefly, out of sheer reflex, her hand threatened to flick to her gun when Justice asked to be shot — that's how serious she sounded about it, and that's how eager Silje was to grant her friend's wishes. Justice always did tell her she should listen more, too. Thankfully conscious thought caught up with her before she could ever act on that reflex. It's not like she didn't understand what shooting someone meant, after all, even though some might assume otherwise. For some reason.

Besides, Gerard and Lance were doing a good job distracting her. The mere sight of the latter made her shudder with the memory of scorpions she hadn't yet even seen, a sudden prickling nibbling at her toes. The former, talking directly into her ear through their communications, well—

"A reminder: I think homicide is illegal in most places- this one included. Just food for thought."

He gave her an idea.

Silje's grin cracked wider. Though she addressed him back, she was very much speaking out loud to the entire room. "Hey, do you think... it counts as homicide if you don't have enough remains to tell it used to be a person? I'm kind of curious." she turned to the civilians, head tilting in thought. "Oh, but we can't just start a fight, right? That's the rules. They'd need to do it, and they don't even have proper weapons. Hm."

She tapped at her cheek, once, twice, and then she was off, scurrying over to the civilians with her own gun in hand. She offered it handle-first to the biggest of the bunch. "Here, I'll lend you mine! So that... if you wanna start shooting, you can."

"But, if you do," her eyes narrowed in tune with her widening smile, the air around her rippling and crackling with Mist. Through it, the man was already painted in various shades of red. "It'll be my turn next."

And she sounded very, very giddy about it.

[vietmyke]

Gerard Biserus

"Wow boss, you're real slick with this words stuff." Gerard snickered through their squad-wide communication spell, taking a spot outside the building, leaning against the door to prop it open against the wall. "I'm surrounded by sociopaths." Gerard chuckled and sighed, the jet black of his hair and reflection of his glasses partially showing as he poked his head in the building. To Justice's credit, the open invitation to violence did put a look of uneasy surprise on the faces of the locals. The mention of military also brought some measure of confusion to the faces of the toughs- evidently not expecting a pack of military hounds to look like- well, them. To top things off, Silje approaching the main aggressor with a gun and the air crackling around her quickly drained the blood from their faces. They stared at her in shock. For the WARDENs, magic was an everyday thing- even if they weren't dedicated battle mages, they could use magic and knew what it was. It was everywhere around them and a facet of everyday life. For the general populace of Rassvet though, magic- and mages were rare and dangerous at best, and extremely lethal and destructive at worst.

"What the fuck..." One of the men managed to croak out, his face pale, obviously overwhelmed with the sudden presence of military hounds and their magic pet. "They're fuckin' freaks!" another one cried out in a bit of a panic.

"They're WARDENs!" The girl behind the cashier hissed, a frightened arm grabbing at the large man to tug him away from Silje and Tony. The announcement quickly caught the attention of the remaining civvies, who quickly began to back off, the sounds of weapons- be they knives or bats, clattering as they hit the tile. One man threw his hands up, an old, beat up revolver dangling from his fingers for a moment before slipping off and clattering to the ground. The largest of them, in an attempt to keep his tough guy persona up, managed an uneasy cough before waving away the pistol, breaking eye contact with the Tony and the almost comically smaller battle mage. "F-fuckin' tourists, yall ain't w-worth my time. Just take your shit and fuck off."

"I suppose I stand corrected." Gerard commented dryly, pushing off of the door as he started the short walk back to the car, deciding the situation handled. The motel, gas station and convenience store all shared the same parking lot, making the short walk little more than a few steps in any direction. "So we done here? We drinking or are we gonna put the smack down on the locals? Either sounds like a good time to me." Without waiting for an answer, Gerard flicked his hands, crates and folding chairs slowly beginning to float out of the back of the truck so the lot of them could start setting up their 'camp'. Perhaps tailgate was a better word for it. One of the benefits to a telekinetic was the amount of time saved cutting out manual labor, though Gerard's eclectic tastes in placement often left something to be desired.

"Beer me!" Gerard demanded of no one in particular, even as in the distance he spotted a pair of individuals leaving what appeared to be the local Marshal's station.

[Psyker Landshark]

Kalina Kovalic

Well, that solved that. Kalina wordlessly offered Silje a high five after she'd managed to scare the pants off the civvies enough for the girl behind the counter to get the point. That was what one did in these situations, right? Once the high five was taken, because there wasn't a chance in hell Silje wasn't going to go for it, Kalina followed Gerard back out, opening the beer Justice had thrown at her earlier and taking a few swigs.

"Drinking, I suppose. Not exactly a reason to fight unless they give us one, and what the others did worked." Kali said in response to Gerard's inquiry before something did come to her mind.

"That said, the girl at the counter hit a silent alarm. Might have a problem in five."

Just then, she caught movement in the corner of her eye. Judging by the design, two figures were leaving what was supposed to be a local law enforcement station. Huh. And she'd just mentioned the silent alarm, too. Given the time between pressing it and their response in even leaving the station...the locals were rather slow, weren't they?

"Make that one. Two potential bogeys, ten o' clock." Kalina said, reaching into the cooler as she did so and tossing Gerard the beer he requested. With that stated, she quickly guzzled down the rest of her own brew, leaving it on top of a crate. No sense in leaving it undrank should the marshals prove hostile.

"How're we playing this?" She glanced around at those assembled, shrugging. "Didn't technically do anything, did we?"

[OwO]

Justice

In some ways, Justice was disappointed. She had truly wanted that gun to fire. She would have felt it all: the raising of an old revolver, the squeeze of a trigger, the ignition of gunpowder--only to meet a barrier of magic. That would have been enough to give Justice her personal casus belli. How she longed to crack heel against jaw and knuckle against liver. Unfortunately--or fortunately as her vague position of leader would expect her to think--Silje had offered her gun alongside crackling reprisal if they took it.

The cowardice--alternatively, self-preservation--of the hicks ended the bizarre confrontation. Without the conflict, there was little point in her remaining in the rustic little shop. She also wasn't about to pay for any overpriced, marked up items. Being 2nd Class came with its benefits--an increased pay was the largest one. It didn't mean that Justice wanted to spend her graduation stipend on booze and trite.

With the others, she left the general store, but not before patting Silje's head. "You'll mulch 'em on the battlefield."

Of course, it wasn't like she was going to do much else outside. With Gerard able to set up camp by himself and the rest of the squad actually putting chairs in human locations, Justice could only stand there menacingly. That gave her ample time to watch two figures begin to approach and hear Kalina's concerns about the matter.

"Just relax by the truck. I'll talk to them. Normally, this time." Justice was, in all honesty, much more inclined to have a fair conversation with actual law enforcement. There was a good chance that whatever sheriff, marshal, or deputy had been honestly elected. Though, in a town like this, it was just as likely that they would have a large bounty on their head. With that, she began to approach the two of them.