Open Apocalypse

[Echo_OfTheStorm]

Little Red's eyes snap to the hourse as soon as she hears the food beats. Vibrent, caucious pink eyes land on the hourse and its rider, immidiately taking note of all the weapons. Though when she looks the hourse slows, not meaning to be threatening. She glances at the other girl to her left, "ky?" she whispers, and the black hair woman with red eyes shifts her weight. "Let's see what they want . . ." She says and Little Red softly pets the wolf softly to calm the low growl that arises in his throat, and she looks up at the person as they peak.

"Hello traveler. What is your intentions in our hunting grounds?"

hunting grounds. So thats why they were here. "We're simply passing through, we have no desination, nor a home, but i can promise we won't be here more then seven sunrises."

Edited December 27, 2022 by Echo_OfTheStorm

[Gangsta Moll Deactivated]

@DoctoroMindbender

The pain through which he wades, in the telling - in the baring of his soull - is almost tangible, physical.

The slow weary crawl of ... humanity ... fully formed - 'civilised - but dragging itself ... ourself ... up from the dust, rebuilding only to destroy, nourishing only to starve, loving only to hate.... it is a tale told, so often and yet each time so raw and so different. My years are fewer than his, my trials less hard, but I see myself, reflected dimly - to follow someone: to worship, to obey, to respect and ...and yes, to love ... My instinct is to clasp my hands, to offer the bow of respect for truth told, for pain shared, for error confessed: but I cannot, my body almost shivers with the tension of dissonance. Sensei - the teacher followed, the wisdom gratefully received  the rules and rituals of ... respect ... the hero worship is so ... cultured, nurtured .. within me and yet - even before I met this ... man ... for just a man he is... I feel the doubt..the repudiation. The strong leader, the hero to worship, the desperate desire to ... serve ... to follow. And yes, our world, of chaos and confusion and fear and horror, yes our world 'needs' that ... the cult ...  something .... someone ... to live for ... to die for...

But it fails, doesn't it? The hero fails and falls, the deity deserves derision, the object of worship is worse than nothing.

My Sensei was strong, yes - and stood, at the end, for me. I ran, because running was ... is ... my skill .. to run away... and Sensei stood, not running, and fell so I would not, and stood so I could run. But migh is not right: strength alone is not strong. Sensei would have fallen to the feral fury that fires the strong: had done so,  I knew - and he had at least the grace to admit. Power corrupts.

This man who bares his soul - begins, tearing himself apart in doing so, to bare it: there is Sensei in him, and Seito in me - I could follow ... I could hero worship... this ... New Sensei.

But ... we don't need another hero...

Here, now, we ... we two ... stand as strangers, to the tribe that has ... accepted ... us: and strangers to each other. And this tribe ... this nascent Nation ... has a leader ... a Sensei... and we don't need another Sensei...

But this tribe's Sensei has said "For fuck's sake", the ancient ways are dead. Maybe we don't need another hero - we don't need another leader - but maybe, just maybe, we need to learn ... again ... how to lead without a leader...

I touch the scars he shows: I feel their import, the significance they signify. Everything in me wants ... desires ... longs... to follow...

But I don't. 

"Fuck it" I say, quietly...

Then, with more confidence:

"Everything is fucked up: let's fuck it up some more. We need to talk to Dragon Triad ... Leader."

[DoctoroMindbender]

@Echo_OfTheStorm
(Akashi, the Outrider NPC)

Akashi considers this woman's words carefully. Perhaps she can provide information about the world beyond where the tribe has traveled. Even if she can't, these are dangerous times, even by the standards of these blasted wastes. Besides, he was fascinated by the animal following her

"Please, follow me back to our camp. You can rest and resupply."

[DoctoroMindbender]

1 hour ago, Gangsta Moll said:

"Everything is fucked up: let's fuck it up some more. We need to talk to Dragon Triad ... Leader."

I slowly pull myself together, though Ruby's response is still shocking. I expected ... well a lot of things, but this was not one of them. I consider her words. I do not know what Dragon Triad is, but the world is indeed fucked. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see that. But the other part. That what really took me by shock. I look into Ruby's eyes, my own bloodshot, red, puffy but also starting reharden into mirrors reflecting her own visage back. I speak, "I've walked that path. I've been that man. It will destroy us both."

[Gangsta Moll Deactivated]

On 28/12/2022 at 22:52, DoctoroMindbender said:

"I've walked that path. I've been that man. It will destroy us both."

Talking has never been easy for me.

I find the words hard to come by, and when I do say them they don't mean to others what they meant to me.

In the weirdness of last night, I saw him clearly - fragments only but with a clarity that words could never convey. And yes, filtered through his own mind, his own view of himself and of others and of the world - but crystal clear nevertheless. Maybe an illusion, too - but isn't everything perhaps an illusion if we search too deeply?

I know he saw me too - and the others, the Tribe. And I saw them: Washakie and Kinimara and an old woman tending to an old man with a wounded leg, and the braves, men and women - The People - opening themselves up to me - and to him - in their own eagerness to see ... to share ... what we did .. the feelings, the passion... the baring of souls. No words could convey that limpid clarity: and words don't come easily to me - not the right words, anyway.

They do to him, though: rusty at first, and reluctant, but I saw that he was once a man of words and he could be again, had he not - like me - sealed off a part of him that made him who and what he is.

Words are all I have now though - there is no white smoke, and my mind could not face it if there were. And it is I who said we must talk - so talk I must.

It hurts - not just to remember the past and relate it in all its loveliness and horror, but also to face again the struggle to relate - not just to say but to communicate - to commune with - another. Everything in me wants to retreat into the stillness: the self-contained, self-sufficient, still silence where I can be me and me alone and the world and all its confusion and chaos - and its people - is just an object of contemplation, to be watched, observed, considered ... and shut off, distanced, hidden and hidden from behind barriers built of hurt and confusion.

But it is I who wanted to talk, so I do.

I tell him - share with him - the farm: an oasis, literally but also an oasis of calm in a world gone mad. Growing into a village - a community - as I, the strange quiet eerily still child, grew into a girl and then a young woman. Yes, violence and chaos surrounded us but was for the most part kept at bay - partly by luck at our isolated situation, partly by the care and caution - and fighting ability - of the farmers, and later the villagers, those who joined the farm and helped it to grow. It wasn't an easy life but as a child it was what I knew: and I had the books - hundreds of them, full of tales of fantasy and imagination that only slowly did I understand were often real, echoes and images of a lost world. Books, I think, were my salvation because I could bury myself in them, lose myself, and even though it wasn't the way of other children it was, I think, less ... odd.. than my eery stillness. And some helped me to learn how to ... well, to be human .. to relate, to others, to talk and laugh and play and later to work and .. fight ... by learning the rules, the ways of doing all those things, and even though I had to - still  do - think about them - I could become almost ...adept .. at being  ... normal. And the books made me useful, too, because I knew things from them and so others didn't have to read, they could ask, and I liked that, it was useful work, I was good at it.

The survivors were the problem. Coming from the west, in waves - singly or in small groups, as was their way. Survivalists, they styled themselves - dedicated to surviving, to living in a world hostile to human life. Accepted, too, for their skills, and their strength that our community needed. But they were selfish, and that is how our community destroyed itself - how we destroyed it - from within, through selfishness and greed and envy.

That is how I begin to find the words:

"We have destroyed ourselves, already: so now we have to fix it - to fix ourselves."

This ... tribe ... these .. People ... they have built something - become something. They have a purpose.

Didn't Elijah sense it - didn't he feel it, in the smoke dream: the tensions, the challenges lurking - that will tear it apart. The Triad leader - Wakashie - is weak, because he is weary of being strong:. Couldn't he see it, in him? Didn't he feel it, in the smoke dream? And when a Triad leader falls, the Triad may fall too.

But it doesn't have to be like this. The Tribes look to him - to Wakashie - to Red Dragon Triad leader - to lead. But who can he look to? The Tribes will only do what the Tribes do, follow the old way: he said himself, the old ways are dead - but they are not, not all of them - though they should be. There are other ways - other ways to lead, to decide leadership, to build - to fight ... to wage ... war ... war, not fights, not skirmishes ... war.

Sensei told me once: "Choose your enemies wisely: and sparingly. Your friends will choose themselves."

Here, at this pass - literal and figurative - we have met: Elijah and me, and us with the People, others too. From the west, we know, come those we might choose as enemies.

"I am tired of running. These People are not running, but they are not ready to stand and fight."

"You are not from the Tribes. Their ways are not yours.  We need to talk to Red Dragon Triad leader."

[DoctoroMindbender]

I listen to her story. I can't rightly say I understand the ways of these people fully. But I understand enough. I have met plenty of kings, be they Prophets, Warlords or Red Dragon Triad Leaders. At one point I had even trained to be a prophet myself, and served as an underboss leading scouting parties and raids. The truth is, regardless of fancy title or high minded ideals they are all the same. Leadership doesn't belong to the strong, it belongs to those who can feign strength, use their position to control others, bully them into submission. This world grinds strong men back into the dust from which they came. It's us cowardly bastards who refuse to die, the cockroaches, who run what's left of the world. For all of his sins, at least Wakashie gives a damn. I'd take my chances with him over a violent drunk protected by a pack of loyal hounds any day.

What I don't understand is what Ruby is planning, though I am still convinced it will destroy us both. I push that though aside. The future is tomorrow's problem. Today's problem is to survive until then. Just like every other day in the wastes.

"And say what?" I ask "What's the play?"

Edited December 30, 2022 by DoctoroMindbender

[Gangsta Moll Deactivated]

Washakie, Red Dragon Triad gang leader, and shepherd of The People, NPC

The pass is a nexus - as all passes are.

It's spring, of clear water, is a treasure: and the wild man had the right to protect it - though Washakie's own failure to foresee such a danger will cost, in time, if the young braves again become restless: a second unforced error - the shining machines surrounding the lake and dam being the first, and most costly, and perhaps responsible for this second, through forcing their hurry. The site of the wide water, beckoning so treacherously, still resides in his memory - a great prize, never now to be claimed.

And now strangers: as if the pass itself draws them - indeed it must, the road rising to it as the only passage.

The man and the girl - the woman - an enigma and a mystery. Such passion, unleashed to readily, exposed to the tribes: and yet so much withheld.

The man's mind burying a past to be guessed at and terrible but as yet unknowable: hidden by a resolve so firm, so strong, as to be unbreached even in the passion unleashed by the white smoke - the People see, relish, the  passion but Washakie sees beyond = at least, sees there is a beyond. A threat? A new challenge? Washakie is so tired, so weary, of leading, of challenge and fighting and leading.

The girl - the woman - unreadable: her mind so smooth, beneath the awesome raw animal passion, as to be almost a mirror - a reflection of the world, an observation of it. Nothing hidden here - no fierce resolve to bury a past - but almost as if, hiding nothing hides everything, in plain sight.

The wild man owes a reckoning, to be sure, for the lives and horses lost: but the cunning, the preparation, the skill and mad determination in the face of overwhelming force, has value if it can be .. channelled. Washakie smiles at the recollected vision of Godayisu, the Medicine Woman, tending the man's wounds: always wayward, none from the Tribes have won her, but if any can win the confidence of a wild outsider, she can. 

And now this wolf woman. It is not a pet that walks with her: something more?

Four paths that cross, at the pass: wild man, wolf woman, stranger couple, and Tribe. A nexus, to be unknotted.

Time for talk - if the restive young braves will allow it.

 

[Gangsta Moll Deactivated]

I stare at Elijah.

I don't know what to say.

"I don't have a plan."

I never have a plan.

I don't make plans. I follow my leader.

I do what I'm told.

Until Sensei told me to go: to run away.

And I did, and left him, all of them, and there was no one to follow so I just kept running, doing as I was told.

"But I have an idea."

"Wakashie is a Triad Leader - a dragon triad, the tattoo on his forehead is Red Dragon Triad."

I sketch the power pyramid of dragon triads - its shape reflecting the triangle of the tattoo.

I try to explain how Dragon Triads are ruled by strength: through power and challenge - by strong men and strong women. Dragon Triads are strong, but brittle: hard but not tough. They rest on leadership - on following the leader - and that is their weakness. Decapitate the Dragon Triad, and the Triad falls.A leader fails, the Triad fails.

And now I have to admit my part.

My own Triad - not a nascent Nation like Wakashie is forming, but a gang within a ... community ... a criminal gang, as Triads are supposed to be, exploiting society not leading it.

And my Triad was not - is not, though I may be its only surviving member now - is not a Dragon Triad. My Sensei was not a leader but a teacher. There was not - is not - a leader, only Sensei, the teachers, and Senpai the hierarchy of respect.

I am not a leader. Not even a Sensei. I follow.

I do not tell Elijah, but I say it silently, in my head: I recognise Elijah as my new Sensei - I want to follow him.

But I do tell him my idea - my unformed uninformed idea:

"The Tribes are hunters: they are brave, fighters, like me, but they cannot fight what is coming from the west: can't win by individual bravery and skill against overwhelming force."

"Wakashie is strong - a strong leader - but the Tribes need ... cunning ... deviousness ... plotting and planning ...that is alien to them - and to me. Alien to our honour code."

"The Tribes have a leader: but they maybe need a teacher - a Sensei - to take them beyond what a leader can know; to teach them to lead themselves, to think for themselves, to be cunning and devious and adaptable. And I think that Sensei could be ...you - my Sensei."

And, my face flaming red from embarrassment and humiliation, I clasp my hands and bow low, my eyes fixed on his implacable unreadable hard stare.

"I was hoping you had a plan, not me."

 

Edited December 31, 2022 by Gangsta Moll

[DoctoroMindbender]

I see the truth of her words. These men are brave, but they are naive. They are warriors. Warriors can not defeat the glassy eyed maniacs of the Watermaker. We need killers. There is no honor in fighting. There is no glory. There is only death. I hope that we can avoid it. In my heart, I know that hope is a lie. I may not be the best at reading a man's intentions, but I believe that Wakashie knows these truths too - he's just not ready to admit them, because they are not his way. We will also need a plan. I do not have one. Not yet. I lack what I need - information. I have seen the face the clan leaders put out to the world, but is it real? Is it a false front, hiding their true strength, or a bluff to scare away the wolves at the door that will fall away under stress? What I do know is that nothing is free. Monstrous machines from Before require Gaz, guns require bullets, and people require water. Those are weaknesses. But they are weaknesses we share with Watermaker. It's not enough to kill. You need to stop the other guy before you run out of bullets, and before your bodies water is spilled into the dirt.

Fuck.

For any of this to work I will need to tell the leaders the truth. Who I am. What kind of man I am. With luck, they won't crucify me, leave my bloated corpse out into the sun as a warning to others. Not that I don't fucking deserve it. If I am to die today, it won't be on an empty stomach.

After a long pause for thought, I answer "First, breakfast. Then we ask to gather the elders."

[Gangsta Moll Deactivated]

Washakie, Tribes Leader, NPC

Washakie smiles at Akashi's arrogance: "our hunting grounds"? The hunting grounds of the Tribes lie to the east, behind them, and the hunting there now offers lean pickings. These lands, here, are no hunting grounds either: parched outside this small oasis fed by the fabled spring - dust and sand  and desert: any real hunter would not make such an idle boast and stupid mistake. Nor would any with awareness of the Before Times toy so casually with claiming any land as property. Never mind: Akashi is young, an outrider, not yet a warrior - brave but naive, time enough for him to learn the bitter lessons of experience. 

But the wider expanses to the north west - ancient hunting grounds, and by stories of those fleeing from the west, still fertile and isolated, inaccessible - those lands are the prize: the goal - the hope. The hunting grounds of the future: if there is a future.

For now, the strangers' tales, relayed through Kinimara, tell of threats more numerous and more murderous more deadly, than any the Tribes have met. The zombies, yes: speed and skill can defeat them. Raiders too, can be outnumbered. Skirmishes are the very soul of braves of the Tribe. But this ... cult ...this ... Watermaker ... that is something from the past ... crusade ... campaign ... war. And gang fights, skirmishes, raids - these are not war: nor are the Tribes, with their loose societal structures, driven by the fanaticism of which the man Elijah speaks.

Elijah, yes: an Enigma hidden behind a mental wall. A man of ... war ... and with knowledge of fanaticism .. understanding of it ... that speaks of ... intimacy with it ... familiarity...

Elijah, yes: fanatic? or apostate? Danger, surely? Treacherous,  perhaps? Friend or foe - or neither? Enemy of Watermaker,  certainly - but is my enemy's enemy my friend or just another enemy?

And the wolf woman, here, with the girl. Passing through? Coming from the North west: from where the Tribes should be heading.

The wild man, too - cunning, ruthless, devious ... mad ...

Time to hold council. A nice dull and annoying task to remind an arrogant outsider of the privilege it is to ride with the warriors.

Washakie summons Akashi, despatches him to bring the elders - and all the strangers - to counsel.

Edited January 2, 2023 by Gangsta Moll

[DoctoroMindbender]

The long talk did some to ease the pain around my eyes, and pounding in my head, but how little became clear as I stepped into the bright morning sun. Breakfast is dry bread, and more of the hard bitter fruit from the night before. It is a filling breakfast, but I do not savior it, or even notice it. Indeed, I am lost in my own thoughts, trying to figure out what I will say to the elders, and how we can survive the coming storm.

A sound in the distance draws my attention. Hoof prints, hard and fast. I shake off the cobwebs, and slide my hand onto the pistol at my waist. Scanning the direction of the sound I see a lone rider, coming in hard and fast. They dismount, less urgent now, my muscles relax their stored tension. I return to breakfast, keeping an eye on the rider, it looks like they're gathering the elders. I had wished to choose the time and place, but now my hand was being forced.

[Gangsta Moll Deactivated]

Elijah is quiet after I talk: silent, withdrawn. I feel my confidence ebb: the long months alone distanced me from the hazards and confusion of being with people, of struggling to read them and situations - and my ebullient confidence collapses, slowly, in on itself. Have I pushed too far? Have I stepped out of line, presumed too much?

But these are the self doubts I have learnt to subdue, that Sensei taught me to challenge, to disect and examine coolly and to defuse.

I met this man but days ago: and I know nothing if him - not even what he has said, really says anything, and he says but little. Did I see in him, in my lonely despair, a new Sensei that is, or may be, a mirage, a forlorn hope born of desperation? And what chemistry led me to throw myself at him, to fuck like animals? No drug makes you do things, I know: only let's you do what you want to do. Was it just sexual? Well, yes, I admit, smiling inwardly, why yes it was, incredibly intensely fucking awesomely sexual. I hope he can't sense the heat that flushes my face - and elsewhere. But not just sex, surely? And not just my innate longing for someone to lead me - for someone to follow, someone to guide me through this mad world of chaos and the madder confusion of interacting with people?

My mood lifts, as it so often does: who cares, anyway - everything is shit, why not have fun?, as Sensei never ever said or ever would have.

I dare to interrupt his silent reverie:

"That was a seriously great fuck, by the way - thank you"

And I feel my face break into a grin.

And the rider approaches.

[DoctoroMindbender]

Akashi (NPC, Outrider), Kinimara (NPC, Clan Leader), Godayisu (NPC, Medicine Woman)

The outrider drives his horse fast, towards camp. He didn't know if it was necessary, but he was determined to make Wakashie proud. He pushes his steed into the inner perimeter of the camp, before dismounting it and tying it there. The smell of early morning camp reminds of lazier days, when he wasn't aiming to become a warrior of the clan, when he could start his early mornings with the other civilians. He tries to pick out familiar faces in a crowd of familiar faces.

He spots Godayisu, the healer and spiritual leader of the clan, and approaches. "Good morning, Respected Elder" Akashi starts. Godayisu does not like such formality, nor the double edge compliment that comes with such a title, but she knows that the young will never understand that and takes it in the spirit with which it was offered "And to you, Akashi. Are you not supposed to be on perimeter duty? Don't let Wakashi catch you slipping into camp for extra breakfast." she smiled. Akashi answered "It was Wakashi who sent me, Elder. He wishes to gather the Elders as well as the strangers." Godayisu understood that this was not some social call, it was not Wakshi's way to play political games. She also knew that whatever was coming, the young man would have plenty of time to his duty, he deserved what little respite she could offer

"Go, get some breakfast, young one, there should be some jam left and I know how much you love that. I will speak to the others. I have my own business to attend with them." she said, the last part was not wholly the truth but it was a mercy to spare the young "Do not worry. I will not tell Wakashi. Now go." Akashi, with the eagerness of his youth, ran off to take Godayisu up on her offer.

She found the leader in her tent, preparing for the day. The two exchanged brief pleasantries, before getting on with the business of the day. Kinmara pushes herself to her feet "Thank you, Godayisu. If the Mad Man is well enough, please bring him. I will talk to the other two new comers." She begins the journey across the open camp towards Ruby and Elijah, sharing the occasional nod or word in passing with the other members of the clan along her way.

[Gangsta Moll Deactivated]

I see the way Kinimara looks at Elijah: of which he is either unaware or chooses to ignore. His mood is dark, brooding. But mine is bright, excited: to be called to the Tribe council! I recognise it, the swing from isolated wallflower to hyper-social gadfly, and I struggle to hold the center ground, to find balance. I focus on Kinimara, following her as Elijah trails behind: my chatter seems to amuse her - and her graceful sensual beauty is tangible, to me if not to Elijah.

[DoctoroMindbender]

NPC's, Multiple:
Near the center of the camp, stands a yurt, not a giant structure but rising over the tents used for sleeping, fucking and other utilitarian functions. Inside, the elders meet, discussing amongst themselves what to do. The disagreements are the same as they always are, as they have been, for a while, though they have done well in hiding it from the clan. The subject, however, is new. Strangers, from outside of the tribe, who are now within the camp. Wakashie tells of a woman, with a wolf, though she is passing through and is moving far away from the camp to stay undetected. Godayisu talks of the wild man, still crazed from the sun and the desert, not in a state for questioning. Then the talk turns of the news for the West, another kind of Stranger: The Watermaker. Kinimara councils caution, prudence, but Wakashie stands firm that the threat must be treated as real - he has disturbing reports from the outriders, though Kinimara dismisses them as ghost stories told by young warriors jumping at shadows. They continue in this dance, for too long, as they always do, before Godayisu interrupts. She knows that a storm is coming. She has read the bones of the sacrificed goat, has seen the omens. She advises that they bring in the outsiders.

Wakashie calls out "Akashi. Come in here. Quickly." The young outrider scrambles into the yurt, and bows, to be in the present of the council. Kinimara laughs "Stand, as a man, and a warrior. Do not grovel as a boy" Wakashie chastises him, "Bring us the two strangers, the lovers. We have much to discuss with them. Now go."


Akashie exits back into the camp, scanning the crowd of faces for the newcomers, finishing their breakfasts. With haste, he walks through the dispersing crowd, tribe member's heading to their day's work, dodging and weaving. Until he stands over the strangers "Elijah. Ruby" he says, his tongue tripping over the foreign names, "The elders wish to speak with you"