#infernaliscor

It's, bluntly, textbook. Walk their way in, fight their way out - and, ever so conveniently, the two thralls they for some reason hadn't seen fit to kill when first they met were here as well. Rakatak, sporting several arrows sticking out of her at odd angles and a bloody-mouthed, malignant smile, is locked in melee with the brother of the pair.

He goes high with a desperate overhead, she steps back. The Tooth follows his weapon down. She traps it close to the ground with the haft, then, with a simple half-step forward...

He heaves a wet gasp, the hand-thick, viciously back-spiked blade stuck in his chest halfway down to the crossguard. She takes two steps forward and he's forced to stumble backwards with her, his heels to the cooking fire that still has chunks of dwarf roasting over it.

In her eyes there is no mercy, no acknowledgement that he is worthy to exist.

Then, she turns, coming in close to use the Tooth as a fulcrum and send him away. He stumbles to a hand and knee, probably already not going to make it to his feet with the vertical slice in his torso. Before he can make another sound, the blade falls. So does he.

Rakatak looks at the neatly separated head for a moment, then lifts her chin, turning to regard the bloodbath they've created.

Her eyes land on Karlach.

Bunker Hill was an easy stop. Despite the staring, the wariness, and the clutched weapons, no violence broke out-- between Karlach's intimidation and Hancock's charm they managed to get inside without a problem.

The ghoul's business seemed under the table-- first a conversation with an old barkeep that involved the exchange of holotapes and caps. Railroad business, which was kept quiet for their sake.

Next was another exchange for some written documents; deeds for shipments of supplies out to Goodneighbor. A couple 'who's your new girlfriend' shouts came from one of the drunks at the bar gumming his way through a plate of Brahmin jerkey, but Hancock seemed intent to take it as a missive for a genuine introduction.

The ghoul spoke about her as if they'd known each other for years, and he trusted her with his life. No better way to seed somebody's reputation, really.

The sun was setting, and Hancock seemed intent to stay the night. It looked like the local hospitality was spared for a couple mattresses under the tattered awning of a ragged shelter, the cold and starry sky visible through the cracks in the roof. Hancock had taken a moment alone to fetch supplies as he'd put it.

Which, unsurprisingly, was a bottle of vodka, an inhaler of jet, and a large bowl of what looked like stew and chips from the local cook. He set the bowl down in front of Karlach, then took a seat next to her. "Alright, Red Hot. Now that we've got the mood lighting of a nice night under the stars, lemme ask."

____

Right. He could do this. His training was very far away, but he could remember it. What to do in a situation where you were dropped in the middle of nowhere without memories of what dragged you there? Alright, well, it wasn't this exact wording, but there had to be something... Gather supplies, water, wood for a campfire, spot a place where you can see without being seen to camp at, and don't stay alone, don't stay alone, don't stay alone.

This part he knew. Hammered home by the sergeant.

Ashen removed his helmet for a brief moment, wiped at the sweat on his brow. Despite everything, he was gathered. Calm. Focused. This would not last for long.

As he made his way through the wilderness, he pushed the roots on his way with his boot, shoving them away. Enough of a lapse in concentration to find out that there was someone nearby, and that she had probably heard him before he noticed her.

A tiefling. Not an unusual sight, but something froze within him. For a moment, his rational mind shut off. His veins turned to ice. Something awoke within him that he had not felt in a long time, and he could not quite place it. His breathing quickened, his ribcage felt like an inescapable prison. Anxiety. Fear. Dread. Anger. All of this at the same time.

He felt like the best choice in that moment was to flee, but his body would not move despite giving the order repeatedly. Finally, he knew what was wrong. He could see them again in his mind. The inferno of Elturel, the smoking ruins, the snickering cambions.

@infernaliscor said: ❝ okay, rocky start. could’ve been worse, though. ❞

The old synth had been gently pulled aside on his latest trip to Goodneighbor. Usually he'd take it as a threat considering the town, but... well, it was hard to deny the mayor a favor when he asked for one.

Just a look at his new bodyguard. Nick figured it was a way to brag up until he laid eyes on her, blinked, and then squinted at the indicated... thing.

A pulsing heat where her heart should be. Nick grimaced and dropped his hands to his hips. "I, uh... I dunno. I've never seen anything like it. I'm just gobsmacked you're alive and talkin' to me, doll."