Mitheral

Dragon Tale

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Not If You Were the Last (MxF)

Duncan only caught her gestures in his peripheral vision, locking his eyes there only once for an instant before discreetly avoiding staring.

“I don’t really know mechanics really great. I’m more like one of those guys that always ends up with spare parts. I probably should have tried a regular hybrid car. But now you know why I used a hybrid. At least I had juice to get back. All the cars I have set aside are diesel - which lasts twice as long as gasoline before it degrades and eats up the fuel lines. I flushed those with stabilized fuel. Stabilized fuel is good for 2-3 years. But if you didn’t stabilize it back when all this started, it is too late.”

He paused. “I know. I am talking a lot.

“I’m a workaholic. Anyways, I have only had a couple weeks back. To be fair, some of these ideas were the result of a hobby before the Plague. I used to collect Used books about how to do just about everything to rebuild civilization from Stone Age tech and up. My foster father did a lot more. They took lessons from the Mormons and prepared for an apocalypse. As soon as they realized they were getting sick - and I wasn’t- they made the decision to send me away. The Millers were good people - closest thing I had to a family since I was 6.” He face turned a little serious, but he didn’t explain himself.

He moved over and quickly closed lab notebooks filled with scribbled advanced calculus. There were some printed papers with the name Sabrina Gonzalez Pasterski. The title of the papers were something about gravitational something and supersymmetry. More of the same scribblings were on the laptop screen. It was Duncan’s ‘homework.’ He gave another poker face. “Light reading. Dr Paterski. She was touted as the world’s next Einstein. She might have been if she wasn’t distracted from her work so much by dinners and cruises. I read her early work. Definitely not an Einstein level of work. Math written for mathematicians. No layman was ever going to understand it. I call it a work in progress.”

“My foster father had all sorts of stuff in digital format, backed up on external hard drives. It is MIT stuff. My mother worked at UNM Medical Center. She included a lot of basics about first aid - I had some already, but she and my foster father organized it better. And she taught me a little about cooking - like how to make a simple stew, gravy, and such. I have made butter before - and ice cream. Grandparents on every side of my family had farms. Mr Miller was an engineer. He showed me the stuff about converting a car to alcohol, recipes for making diesel substitutes, and more. A lot he just wrote down. Like where to get Zeolite to make a molecular sieve. I know half a dozen ways to start a fire from scratch. I took a paleolithic anthropology seminar - think of a humanities class about stone age people. I learned primitive skills there. It is actually a standard part of 7th grade classes in New Mexico - but my seminar actually made us go through the motions.

“Now I did figure out how to do a lot of the stuff on my own. But I have always been good at that. I just made a list back before last winter. Mr Miller helped. But I spent the winter refining my list and planning. Then I came out and started my search. Along the way I picked up maps and phone books - the paper kind that have addresses. I learned to read maps in detail when I was 6 or 7. I collected maps starting at 8. I’m not some John Connor though. I was just thinking about running away from home.” He smiled. “I like to plan. I hate having to change plans though. Anyways, on my search I swapped up for an 18 wheeler. I found myself some working bobcats. To make a long story short … I stocked up.

“I have half a truck load of solar panels. And I can get more, but they were back in Arizona. I have plexiglass sheeting to build greenhouses. And seeds. And some hydroponics supplies. I tried to grab everything I could get, plus fertilizer. I still have a lot to collect up. I have only just got started. Problem is, it is really too late in the year to plant. So for the winter I am stuck with canned food again.” He finally paused.

“It is still early. I tell you what. If you have something to change into you can grab a shower. Or we can run by Tanger Outlets and you can clean up later. When you do, use up ALL the HOT water. One time offer. I will eventually need to ration. But there is nothing like a shower to make you feel human again. While you shop at Tanger, I’ll run grab another 5th wheel RV like this one. I have several set up, just not here. But that will give you more privacy. Then we can run by my garden and harvest some fresh food. Then I need to get back and feed the animals. Patches is probably feeling neglected. Horse. No, can’t ride him. He’s in really bad shape

“If you have question, feel free to ask.” He flushed a bit. “I haven’t spoken to anyone in about a year. I’m normally a hermit, but … even I have my limits.”

Not If You Were the Last (MxF)

Duncan still seemed to try to mentally help her carry her pack over. And even after Darlene had tossed her gear into the car, he stood there as if he could get the door for her. It was a gull wing door that he had already opened. He still seemed to insist on closing it for her. Perhaps he was just being polite. He did measure most of his words. He offered a warning to avoid bumping her on the head or side before closing the door. Then he jogged around and hopped in. There was a boyish smile on his face that was priceless.

Duncan had one of those faces that spent far too much time being serious. When he smiled his eyes would fill with energy. They practically blazed. They were doing that now as he looked over and practically leered. Then he paused, stiffened and slowed himself down becoming serious. He had been about to show off. Slowly he forced his body to relax a little.

Then he put the car in gear and started forward. The car went all of about 30 feet, sputtered and died. He looked confused. He shut the car down and tried to restart. Nothing. Again. Nothing. He made a growling noise. He looked over at Darlene. Uhm …” He was clearly embarrassed. He cleared his throat and looked thoughtful. “I can’t be out of fuel. No way. Well … unless something popped loose and there was a leak. Excuse me.”

He got out, clearly looking frustrated. He fiddled with things, but mainly he just inspected for a leak. He was more than a little disappointed to find none. That meant he had no clue what was wrong. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had probably done something when he gunned the engine to get to Darlene faster. He dropped the hood looking grim and got back in.

“Well, it’s a hybrid. Should have enough power to get back to my base - one of them. I sort of have one main base - a place that I am starting to build up. But I will probably move closer to the Rio Grande. That won’t be until Spring though. I got back too late to start up any real crops. The place I have is stocked for getting me - us if you like - through the winter. And there is a garage there with a backup generator - one of those big military ones. I set up at the base motor pool.

“I actually have more than one ‘base’. I have a spot set up at the University - not the medical center. You don’t want to go anywhere near there. My Mom worked there. Foster Mom. My real mother died before the Plague.” His face hardened, he shook his head slightly as if it would make bad memories go away. “I also have a warehouse I am setting up - good reinforced concrete design, docks, offices, forklifts - propane and electric … and eventually a military generator. The truck stop where I-25 crosses had a backup diesel generator. I got it going and every now and then I run it to keep a walk in freezer cool. I plan to replace that eventually. But I cleaned it out and am keeping a couple deer in there. I am hoping they don’t thaw in between visits. I need to get a small freezer. I know where two are, but I haven’t decided how to move them - and they are filled with spoiled meat and vegetables.

“Really I am too spread out. That is what the ranch by the river will replace next Spring. The downside will be the loss of the base Motor Pool. It will still be there, but again still a drive to get there.” He sighed. Just talking about his plans made him tired.

The McLaren had an electric backup. Its top speed under all pure electric was 78 mph. And had a 50 km range. He was already looking worried by the time they got to the motor pool base. He pulled the car over by a child’s playhouse. He got out and opened the door for Darlene. Then he walk over to the playhouse and reached in, pulling out cables and stretching them to the car. Then he went back and cranked up the generator inside the playhouse. He was using the playhouse to suppress the noise. Then he hooked up the car to recharge.

“I have solar, but haven’t set it up yet. Well, I suppose I should give you the grand tour.”

For a 16 year old male, Duncan was almost obscenely organized. Oh his place was cluttered, but it was clearly organized. He started with the garage. Power was out - until he cranked up the main generator. But the playhouses he had filled with generators were hooked to LOTS of marine grade car batteries. So he had enough lighting to work with. He had a number of construction solar panels he had collected from the side of the road. They also offered light.

His kitchen and pantry were well stocked. He had multiple cabinets and book shelves filled with food, all organized with an OCD level of order. Canned hams, canned vegetables, canned fruit, fruit in plastic, sugar in tubes, honey, dry cereals, powdered milk, pet milk. He had a whole short truck filled with 20 gallon jugs of drinking water. Some of his supplies were still on pallets. He had Coleman stoves, a propane grill. There was a port-a-potty available - with a whole pallet of toilet paper.

Not merely organized, but industrious. He didn’t think small. He could take care of himself and maybe a dozen or more people through the winter easily.

There were other vehicles. The ones that seemed to get the most use were a NM state patrol SUV K9 unit and an F350 pickup rigged with racks, extra fuel tank and pump and aluminum storage boxes. It was probably one used by a small construction crew. There was also a burnt cinnamon lamborghini veneno, a military mobile command post, a tow truck, military humvees, golf carts.

“I have more cars - diesel. And I took care of them. I’ll let you pick one out and set you up with a go bag. The go bag isn’t a hint. It is a safety thing. I cleared out most of the big predators around here. But now and then I get a mountain lion straying in. Plus there are packs of wild dogs in the NE Heights area. I used to live up there. You can have the Lambo, but I don’t recommend it. Gas powered means that odds are the fuel lines are a mess. I can TRY to fix it, but I’m not the greatest mechanic. Diesel lasts longer - about a year.”

There was also another kennel like pen with another child’s playhouse set up on it. Bleating at the edge of the pen was a baby goat. There was a kids soccer ball in the pen with it. It started pushing the ball around with its head almost as soon as they arrived.

“Oh yeah, we have a kid,” he chuckled at the joke and walked over to pet the goat. “His name is Pele, world’s greatest soccer playing goat. He’s a natural. He made a fist and raised it in the direction of the goat. The goat reared up and butted the fist with his head. “He’s probably starving. Still not weaned. My guess is his nanny fell victim to a big cat. I also have a small farm. That I have got to get to later today. Not much of a farm, but I am doing my best to keep the animals alive.”

Then he took her into the 5th wheel RV he had parked next to the garage. “This thing was designed for extreme cold weather - far worse than anything we’ll see around here. 5.5 kW LP generator. LP doesn’t go bad. Washer, dryer, stove, oven, full bath - and … the water is heated.” He blushed at that as the bathroom he was indicating was beyond the bedroom - in which there was a king sized bed - unmade. It was the first sign that Duncan didn’t manage perfect upkeep. In fact he had let the RV go a little. There were books here and there, DVD’s, CD’s near the big screen. There were stacks of notebooks and lab books near a few laptops on the dining room table. There was a soccer ball, an electric and an acoustic guitar, and a professional keyboard. And there was a crate full of ammunition and a few assault rifles, plus a case of grenades and a dozen rocket launchers.

THIS was Duncan’s base. This was where he called home.

Not If You Were the Last (MxF)

McLaren P1 (375 ever made)
drive.google.com/open?id=1Rf-AjHBOVAE…

Duncan also has a lamborghini, but he started with the McLaren because it as a hybrid. At least if he broke down he could get back.

The only stuff Duncan has in the car is his Go Bag MRE's, water, basic tools, weapons. There isn't much space, but if she is travelling light she ought to be okay.

Not If You Were the Last (MxF)

Duncan pulled the car to a hard stop - nearly skidding - on the far side of the freeway and opened one of the gull wing doors, grabbing a set of military grade binoculars.

The movement Duncan had seen came from a girl standing next to a car with black smoke billowing out. He knew every inch of the highway for about 20 miles in either direction by now and that car had not been there yesterday. But it wasn’t the car that was moving. It was … it was … a … girl. There was no mistaking the shape even at this distance. He brought up his binoculars just to be sure. And despite himself a slow wolfish smile tugged at his lips.

Now Duncan had never really noticed girls much that way. Truth to tell he had mostly homeschooled himself. Then his parents had decided he needed to mainstream so he could be with kids his own age. And even though he had technically graduated already, he had been forced to go back to school. He had learned one thing from kids his own age. They were complete idiots most of the time. They usually drove him nuts. There was one thing that he had failed to learn to deal with.

And he was looking at one right now.

Girls had been one mystery he hadn’t figured out. Most of the girls who spoke to him wanted one thing - better grades. Or rather someone to get the better grades for them. There had been that cheerleader. She’d been clueless. But what geek in his right mind says no to sitting next to the prettiest damned girl in class?

He watched as the girl cupped her hand to shield her eyes from the sun to the East. She was sort of short he guessed - not that he was much taller. He had noticed his height starting to change. He already wore size 12 shoes, his feet being first to sprout in size. He had gone through a new pair of shoes every couple months in the past year. He had yet to notice that his pants were starting to get a little short. He would have been entering his senior year and about to grow a full foot if the Plague hadn’t hit. Most teenage boys finish the biggest growth spurt by around age 16. Duncan had only just started and was nearly 17.

Duncan realized he was busy reflecting on his size while the first living human being he had seen in nearly a year was standing there looking at him - a very pretty human being at that. He tried to fight down the hormones that even now were making it hard to think straight. Instead he tapped his horn a couple times, made a few wild arm gestures, and revved the engine. Then he gunned the engine and took off like a shot … westbound to the next exit … where he pulled a U turn. If he had timed himself he might have realized that he had approached 0 -100kmh in just a little over 3 seconds. He got to the girl and car in about 2 minutes flat and actually skidded - unintentionally - to a halt when he arrived.

His face reddened a little. He hadn’t meant to nearly overshoot the girl or be so obvious in his excitement. For nearly half a minute he just sat there trying to get up the nerve to get out. Finally he worked up the courage, opened the gull wing door and stepped out.

“Hi,” he said awkwardly. “I’m .. uhm .. Duncan. Uhm … broke down?” He could have kicked himself. Of course she was. “Uhm … gas? I mean does it run on gas? Gasoline is starting to go bad by now.” He blinked as he realized he had a working car behind him. “Mine is a hybrid. And I figured out how to make pure ethanol and my own E85. I was just testing out the new fuel mix.”

Part of him just wanted to offer her a ride. Mostly he saw someone to talk to - a smoking hot someone. But the pragmatic side of him took over and he decided to see what she wanted first. “If it is the fuel, I can’t really fix it with what I have on hand. But I could convert it to run on alcohol maybe. Problem is you can’t use regular alcohol. You have to purify if with a molecular sieve. It isn’t that hard. Just have to know what you are doing and how pure the alcohol is you are starting with. Anything under 190 proof and you are wasting your time. I heard there was a way to make 194 proof, but I don’t have the equipment for that.

He looked back at her car. “Well, I can’t fix that here. But I can get a tow truck. Diesel is even going to go bad. Most fuels are mixtures. The volatile parts evaporate. Other parts autooxidize. I can check real quick to see if it is obviously the fuel. Just a minute.” He walked over and struggled with the gas cap before getting it off. He then went into his trunk to pull out a hose and a baby food jar. Then he walked back over to her truck to draw a sample with the hose.

“I tried searching for people. Drove all over the US. But … nothing. You are the first person I have seen since … “ his voice dropped away for a minute before starting over. “I missed most of the Plague. My foster parents sent me to live in a cabin when they got sick. When I finally came out … the world was pretty much a void. Part of me is wondering if you are real or just some dream.” He glanced over and tried not to smile, but failed. His jaw worked but all that came out was a short laugh.

“Sorry … but this is like …,” he stopped. Then his voice jumped up an octave and in volume for an instant before settling down. “SO! How to recognize bad fuel 101.” He paused. “You know why guys like cars? Because it is easier to talk about them than people.” He shrugged. “Bad gasoline smells sour. And I hate to say this, but this car probably isn’t worth fixing - at least not with my skills. The bad fuel has probably damaged the fuel lines. And adding good fuel won’t help as the lines are going to be clogged. Think of all the fuel as food that is turning into bad cholesterol in a body. Plaque forms and you get clogged arteries. You can do more harm draining the tanks and lines than good.” He paused and drained some of the fuel into the baby jar. “Yep … see how the fuel is dark? That’s the result of what I was talking about.

”The black smoke isn’t good either. My guess is bad oil, or no oil. Not worth fixing. That would mean the rubber in the transmission is gone. That’s a soft rebuild by itself.

“Tell you what, grab your vital supplies and I’ll give you a lift back.” He grinned and flushed a little. “I have a repair facility for a base of operations. If I am weirding you out, I can probably fix you up some way to continue on your journey. But I also have plenty of space. I’ve stocked up a little over the past year.”

He ran over and moved his military assault rifle (AR15) and spare clips out of the way. The Barrett Light 50 (50 cal sniper rifle) he pushed to behind the passenger seat, but pointed away. There was a hiker’s backpack in the back - probably his go bag. Even for a test run the guy took no chances of being stranded without supplies. He had covered the seats with plastic - probably trying to keep grease off them.

He adjusted his Ray Bans a grin breaking out on his face. Then he stopped, realizing he was being rude. Subconsciously his muscles flexed. He didn’t even realize he had any muscles. He still thought of himself as the 98 pound weakling. “Anything you need help with? Not much space. It isn’t likely that someone is going to steal anything. And if they do, we should count that as a good thing. It means more people.”

Duncan seemed unaffected by solitude. Perhaps he was a little overeager. But then any average teenage boy might be. Definitely a geek, and not shy about it or even defensive. He clearly accepted that role. But he also seemed a bit athletic. He showed signs of being accustomed to very strenuous work. He walked with a slight limp in his right leg, suggesting an old injury.

Not If You Were the Last (MxF)

google.com/maps/@35.1006169,-106.5761…

That is the Google Maps street view spot where Duncan spotted you. He was headed west. You'd have just come from I-25 a few miles back headed east. This is about a mile before the end of the straight away ... and an exit. It's a bit far to yell at one another. But Duncan's car is still running...

Don't worry about a rewrite. I can work around it.

Dragon Tale

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Dragon Tale

roleplayerguild.com/topics/165231-dra…

Link to the Interest Check

Dragon Tale

roleplayerguild.com/topics/165230-dra…

Once upon a time, there was a lonely knight. I mean the kind they wields a sword, not the one you look up and see the Moon. Pay attention! Save the questions for later. Where was I? Right … knight. Anyways he was lonely and wanted a lady to marry. Now he wasn’t just any knight, but a mighty knight. Mighty? Yeah, I guess that would have made things clearer the first time.

Now this knight was - mighty knight - was also a prince, the second son of a great King. The kingdom had long been a bitter enemy of a rival kingdom … What? Kandor. I aid hold the questions. The Knight was a prince of Kandor. Kandor’s bitter enemy was Grymm. No, not forbidding or uninviting. Grymm … like the Fairy Tale. The Lord of Grymm -- What? No, not the Grim Reaper. Totally different kind of grim. Crap, where was I? Oh! Right there was a Grymm Lady - and before you ask, not that kind of grim either. She was the third daughter of Lord Grymm.

Now to end a long era of bitter hatred a marriage was arranged. But the Princess wanted nothing to do with a hated scum like a knight of Kandor - handsome or not. Neither did she care to have her fate ordained by her father. So she hatched a plan to avoid the union. You see the Lady was also an alchemist. She decided to use her knowledge to stage her abduction - by a Dragon. She used her arcane lore to restore life to a fossilized talon of a dragon. She slew a cow for its blood, ripped her dress, with the talon … and fled into the mountains. She was very, very clever about misleading any search party. One of her best tricks was to use a kite to carry blood away and downwind in a waterskin. Then she waded upstream to where she had a cave filled with supplies for a week - and of course different clothes - commoner clothing.

Now the Dragon had no idea he was being used for a scapegoat. The very notion that a great dragon such as himself would ravage a … human … was ludicrous. The notion of eating a sapient creature might have appealed to his ancestors, but he liked to think they his great race had come a ways since those days. Well they had come a long ways - even helped the two legged race known as Man achieve a measure of knowledge and civilization - before they turned on the dragons and began to hunt them. Oh how far his kind had fallen. But their fall had begun with their own greed. And perhaps they did slay a few humans in their rage when their hordes were sought by human lords looking for the funds to build armies. Where once the dragon was friend to Men, they became natural enemies.

Finally we have the Other Woman, or the Lady of the Lake. She is the friend to the Dragon, his protector and champion. Okay … let’s be real about this. To her the Dragon is like a father. He raised her for as long as she can remember. (She even calls him Father at times.) She spent many a stormy night sleeping in the safety of his coils. Dragons are NOT slimy evil creatures of some dark hell. They are filled with wonder and awe. Perhaps it is her long life with the dragon that has imbued her with draconic powers.

Learning that humans seek to harm the Dragon certainly did not land them on her good side. But she can understand how they would be angered by a dragon harming one of their people - except that he didn’t. So it is her duty to protect the dragon - but also protect the Knight. For an angry dragon is a very, very dangerous thing. There is a reason that the tales of slaying dragons are legends. If anyone is to blame for this whole mess, it is the Grymm Lady who has framed the Dragon.

Lastly, there is Stygea? Did I forget them? Many have. They are the lands to the south. Urulchai, Uruk, Drow, and others. They worship the darker powers. They raise demons. And they are coming. When they get here it will take the combined might of both kingdoms to stand a chance against the hordes.

Please note: I intend to roleplay the dragon.

The link to the RP is at the top.
Note that Advanced and Casual are both tagged. I prefer Advanced, but I do expect more posts than usual to be casual in a group RP like this. They can't all be long posts.