Wotz

IC: Dune Wolf (Red Star Inn) "Yesterday, ideally." Dune leaned back, sizing her up. Serrat, was it? He might've heard of such a tribe, if the gin weren't already beginning to cloud his memory. But it seemed the Glatorian and he had some common ground. Maybe they could stroke some kind of a... Strike some kinda... He eyed the glass. The black stuff was stronger than he remembered. He swallowed some more. "You help me help me my people, and your... people will be helped." He cleared his throat forcefully. "As in, the Bone Hunters. Have money." OOC: @a goose

IC: Dune Wolf (Red Star Inn) "Responsibilities?" OOC: @a goose

IC: Dune Wolf "Well, whaddya know, me too." Gin. He rememberd she had asked him a question. "Slaves. Brothers and sisters of mine, you know how it is. Last I heard, the ice tribe have close ties with the Bone Hunters. And those aßholes killed my family, all my families. So I got an appetite for vengeance." Gin. "Care to join a fellow wolf hunting his prey?" OOC: @a goose

IC: Dune Wolf (Red Star Inn) "No, I never made it that far." He chuckled, then suddenly his face was grim. "Too busy in the pits. No, west isn't where I'm from. It's where I wanna go." Gin. "What am I supposed to call you, then, wolf head? Or shall we not bother?" OOC: @a goose

IC: Dune Wolf (Red Star Inn) Dune nodded and looked around at the patrons. "A motley bunch, aren't they? Yet still... civilised. Way too civilised." Another glug of the gin. He made a face. "What about Iconox, you every been up there? Seems like a cold place." OOC: @a goose

IC: Dune Wolf "I'm no merc." Dune half-scoffed, and his black eyes drifted. "I could use the coin, though." He sipped the blackthorn, his eyes now suspicious and trained on the wolf-helmed merc before him. "'Sorta stuff you do? Run into a lotta Bone Hunters?" OOC: @a goose

IC: Dune Wolf (Red Star Inn) He popped the nut into his mouth and flashed a victorious smirk at the barman, who rolled his eyes and busied himself with another customer. Dune took a swig of the gin--not bad, he was surprised to discover. Then, without really knowing why, he took a seat at the mercenary's table and slid her drink across. "I owe you my company. It's less overpriced than the drinks here." OOC: @a goose

IC: (Atero) To a desert dweller, Atero was a place rich in rare commodities. Foremost among these was shade. Under a canopy not far from the city's entrance, a lone figure spat out a shard of fireroot and uncorked his flask. His narrow eyes scanned the street, analysing. As he sipped, he wondered how long it had been since he had last been here. Months. Years? The Chain Gang had become almost self-sustaining in that time. But they had lacked shade. Protection. And they had enemies. The civilised peoples of Bara Magna made a good call when they agreed not to just kill each other. Across the street, a woman was carrying a basket on her head. A group of children of varied ages suddenly darted from an alleyway, playing some game or other. Not seeing them in time, the woman stumbled, and the basket nearly fell to the ground, a red object slipping out from under the lid. The fruit split open on a small stone, revealing its innards, spilling crimson in a fractal pattern in the sand, and the skin deflated feebly, defeated in its only purpose. Dune Wolf turned away. He needed a drink. (Red Star Inn) "You'll have to do better than that, Outrider," said the barman with his arms folded. "I have a family, you know." Dune bit harder on the fireroot and glared at the yam he had offered as payment. "Can't you just give me whatever this is worth?" The barman poured the smallest possible droplet of Blackthorn Gin into a thimble-sized cup, and laid on the bar next to it a small nut. "This. This is what it's worth." Dune cursed under his breath and looked around the room. His eyes fell on a purple-skinned Glatorian with silver armour. Fittingly, her helmet was in the shape of a wolf's head. A mercenary, he hoped. Or at least a paid fighter. "Hey, you," he called, gesturing to indicate his predicament. "Spare a coin?" OOC: @a goose

Out of a whirling sandstorm, to the sound of crashing cymbals and chugging power chords, rides a desert warrior: Once a slave, now a crusader for vengeance! To those he fights for, he is... D U N E W O L F To those he fights against, he is... C H A I N S Species: Glatorian Age: Unknown, but roughly in his early 30s Gender: Male Appearance: Rugged, thickly-built. Square jawed, iron-toothed. His burnt orange skin is covered in scars, especially his back, which bears layers upon layers of whip lashes. He wears these scars as a badge of honour. Also worn as a badge of honour are the piercings, numerous rings, studs and nails that adorn his face and body, once used by the bone hunters to 'tag' slaves. See 'Cybernetics' for mechanical parts. His garments are sparse, consisting of a form of lightly-armoured black leather jerkin, loose-fitting brown trousers with a large number of pockets, plus a pair of gauntlets and boots, both requisitioned from Bone Hunter raids. Equipment: Chains: The very same chains from his time as a slave, weaved with barbed wire. The iconic primary weapon of the Chain Ganger. Cybernetics: Right Arm: Unsophisticated, constructed from vehicle parts in mimicry of a more advanced appendage that his body rejected. Telescopic Left Eye: Allows him to see over greater distances. Built into the upper corner of his face. The lens is red. Vehicle: Hahli: Dune's motorbike, a jet black Kaxium V19. Subject to extensive modifications and repairs over the years, Hahli is his closest and oldest friend. Although not much of the original bike is left at this point, Hahli was his escape vehicle, once being ridden by the Bone Hunter Gutbleed, until the cruel slaver met a violent demise at the hands of his own bike's wheels. Personality: Emotionally guarded and gravely sincere, Dune Wolf is the ultimate Tough Guy. He chews fireroot, kicks Bone Hunter backside and, sometimes, he wonders what he might have been if his life had never been destroyed by those cruel monsters. Biography: Once a member of the iron tribe, Dune was kidnapped by Bone Hunters at the age of six and exploited as a slave for twenty years. After countless attempts, he and a number of his fellow slaves killed their masters and escaped. Realising they would never assimilate into Agori society, they kept to the road, wreaking their terrible vengeance on the Bone Hunters, and freeing more slaves to join their crusade. They were the Chain Gang, and they operated in this fashion for four years. Now, however, thanks to a betrayal, the Chain Gang have been all but wiped out, except for Dune Wolf, who now continues the crusade alone, ever looking to rebuild the Chain Gang. Weaknesses: Dune is tortured by his traumatic life, having deep psychological and emotional scars. Although he doesn't know it, he also has a rare condition that is slowly killing him, but the effects have yet to be seen.

IC: Pukipuki (The Unfortunate Fikou, Onu-Koro) This was also a dream. In the dream, I was there, but I wasn't me. I could see myself from a darkened passage, and I was tall like a Toa with a great axe, rapping on the door of my destiny. How long had I been standing here? It was impossible to tell the time of day in Onu-Koro without knowing it. I found myself yearning for the d̶͖̈́e̸̱͝ĕ̷͉p̸͚̓ crisp air of my home b̶̡̝̱̝̯̳̖̟͌͊̆ͅȩ̷̡̢͍͓̤̱̯̜̫͍̩͂̓̽̈́̏̔̈́̓̆͒͊͗ͅl̸͙̫̖̞̝̫̪̖̉̈̓̍̄͆̓̆̂̈́̒̃̕͝ó̴̧̨̧͉̦͈̲̯͍̦͚̍̓͋̈́̊̈̆͒̓̓͊͂͘̚͜͜ͅw̶̧͕̥̯̗͐̈́̌͐̓̈́̐̉̈́̋͝͝ in the mountains. I wanted to say something to the stranger, it seemed only right, but my mouth was so dry I could barely open it, and my tongue stuck to the back of my throat when I tried to flex it. The w̵̷̧a̴͞t͏̷͝e̵̛͝r. Need to Drink More.

IC: Pukipuki (Onu-Koro) When I get up in the morning, I feel heavy. It's cold in Ko-Koro. That makes it harder to get up in the morning. That, and in my dreams, I'm always swimming. Swimming feels so natural until I wake up. It's like breathing. You never stop breathing unless you try. I don't know why I would ever want to stop swimming. "...Puki...?" Tupi's pale blue Ruru reminded me of swimming. "...Onu-Koro to Puki, you in there?" "Hmm? Yes." "I was telling you about my new Ussal. Were you listening?" "Yeah, sure." My lips barely separated. They were visibly parched. "Long-In-The-Tooth, right?" "No, his name is George, and he is a bit long in the tooth, that's what I was saying. Pay attention." She turned back to the tea. "Anyway, so I said to the salesman..." Tupi carried on talking. I heard the tea pouring. It sounded like water, which reminded me of swimming. I looked into the teacup and I pictured myself plunging d̶͖̈́e̸̱͝ĕ̷͉p̸͚̓ into its dark depths, watching the spoon's entire gigantic form looming in the shadows as it passed by all the way down to the tea leaves at the bottom; then I pass b̶̡̝̱̝̯̳̖̟͌͊̆ͅȩ̷̡̢͍͓̤̱̯̜̫͍̩͂̓̽̈́̏̔̈́̓̆͒͊͗ͅl̸͙̫̖̞̝̫̪̖̉̈̓̍̄͆̓̆̂̈́̒̃̕͝ó̴̧̨̧͉̦͈̲̯͍̦͚̍̓͋̈́̊̈̆͒̓̓͊͂͘̚͜͜ͅw̶̧͕̥̯̗͐̈́̌͐̓̈́̐̉̈́̋͝͝ the tea leaves, and I'm surrounded by nothing; the nothingness speaks to me, tells me what it said to the Ussal salesman and how Long-In-The-Tooth has too many pink spots on his belly; then the nothingness' voice transforms into a language I can't understand, it stops just a sound being just sound a being just a sound it becomes something else. ... "...Hey, Puki?" My head snapped up. I hadn't realised it was drooping. "You been sleeping okay, my guy?" "Yeah, swimmi- swimmingly." Swimmingly? "I don't think that's- never mind. You should have a nap. My bed's free." She sipped her tea. "Also, I have to go to work this evening, so I probably won't be here when you get up." - - - - - When I got up, I wasn't swimming. I wasn't in Tupi's bed, either. I was lying against the town sundial. It worked with artificial light yadaydayda, said Tupi in my memory. Someone walked past and tutted. Someone else asked me if I knew Mata Nui loved me. I said yes to make him go away. Hauling myself up, I gazed at the sundial. My eyes were still focusing, but I managed to decipher that it had been 4 hours. Tupi was at work. I had nowhere to go. ... Another hour. The bartender at The Unfortunate Fikou asked me how much I'd had to drink. I ordered some water and drank it, then I ordered some more, and drank that, then I ordered more water and drank it. Then, I asked the bartender if I could have a bucket of water and a room to sleep in. He stared at me for a long time, then gave me the bucket of water and sent me upstairs with the room key. He would have shown me to the room but hmfrmbmmf (this part was mumbled as he bent down to do something behind the bar). I couldn't remember which room it was that I was meant to stay in. I stopped outside one of them and stood there for a long time, holding the water in my right hand and the outstretched key in my left.

IC: Grolasch (Fort Garsi Courtyard) Grolasch was stunned by his leader's move - usually it took a few more seconds for her to get round to flooring him. Maybe it was the hangover. "Alright then." Ipsudir had placed her foot in a very uncomfortable position on his neck. It didn't exactly stop him from getting up, but he knew the next flooring would be singificantly more painful if he simply rose. He was supposed to fight his way up. He made a fist with both hands above his head and, with a grunt, swung at her midsection.

IC: Grolasch (Fort Garsi Courtyard) "'Legendary'?" Grolasch pondered this for a moment. Obviously the answer was already 'yes', Ipsudir must've known that already. But 'legendary'? Either it was a genuinely legendary contest, and Grolasch would win... or it was a suicide mission, and Grolasch would still win. "...Just tell me I don't have to sign anything this time."

IC: Grolasch (Fort Garsi Courtyard) Instinctively, Grolasch whirled around violently at the squeeze on his shoulder - but when his swinging backhand flew just over the head of Ipsudir, he realised who he was facing. "Leader... I didn't-" “As it happens, I have a proposal just for you.” A pause, as his desiccated brain caught up to what she had said. "...A proposal...?"

IC: Grolasch (Fort Garsi Courtyard) Dumping the bucket on the side of the well, Grolasch stepped back over to Kirik, and leaned in close enough that the gestalt stench of their breath became a violent force in its own right. "I don't have any secrets." He took the cup, and threw it down the well. "There. Now it has refilled. Probably."