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[Ddynamo]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Chapter 2.
One week earlier.
City of Free Market

“Ah…I am, terribly sorry for such a disturbance, but I am afraid that I am in need of your services,” Dan Canter had been here before. He was a man of business, a very successful man of business, who succeeded in charging insanely high prices on common necessities, like weapons, or bullets. He simply made sure his competition…disappeared.

The dirt-covered man in front of him was a hired gun, he’d kill anyone you ask him to, usually for a cost. Dan Canter was the exception, so long as he provided protection from the law. Though Dan didn’t need the free service. He was the richest man in the east.

“Don’t waste m’ time with small talk, Canter. Who’re yuh wantin’ killed” He spoke, with a long, crooked drawl, and a voice that would scream evil to any sane person.

Canter forcefully slammed a picture in front of the killer. “This is Riley Rollis, a raider that is getting increasingly powerful. Normally, I would encourage this, it scares people into buying guns…but he’s becoming too strong. Scared people buy guns, not dead ones”

“I’m gonna’ need more information. Where’s he a hidin’ at. Where’s his general location?”

“From what I hear, he lives in the west, somewhere near Keystone”

“That’s awfully far away…what do yuh say we sweeten the deal, Canter?” The assassin asked.

“Sweeten the deal? Alright, if you do it, I don’t turn you in. Are you aware that I own this town, the east, and everyone on this side of the wasteland, including you. You will do whatever I tell you to. I am the only reason you remain a free man.”

The assassin sighs angrily, and speaks. “Fine…I’ll do it”

Later that day, one of Free Market’s many orphans was walking the streets, when he happened to cross by the path of Dan Canter, the richest man in the east.

“Excuse me sir, but may you spare some money,” the child asked, sweetly and innocently, as the adults at the orphanage had told him.
“No,” he said sharply, “then you would not have earned it.  And what good is money that you have not earned, child?”

“None, Mr. Canter. There is no value in money not earned,”  the child said solemnly.

Yesterday Canter had received a note. It read:
71 111 108 100 44 32 97 110 100 32 98 121 32 116 104 101 32 108 111 111 107 115 32 111 102 32 105 116 44 32 116 111 110 115 32 111 102 32 105 116 46 32 77 101 101 116 32 109 101 32 117 112 32 110 101 97 114 32 78 111 114 116 104 32 97 110 100 32 98 114 105 110 103 32 119 101 97 112 111 110 115 46 32 73 39 109 32 110 111 116 32 116 104 101 32 102 105 114 115 116 32 112 101 114 115 111 110 32 116 111 32 100 105 115 99 111 118 101 114 32 116 104 105 115 46 71 111 108 100 44 32 97 110 100 32 98 121 32 116 104 101 32 108 111 111 107 115 32 111 102 32 105 116 44 32 116 111 110 115 32 111 102 32 105 116 46 32 77 101 101 116 32 109 101 32 117 112 32 110 101 97 114 32 78 111 114 116 104 32 97 110 100 32 98 114 105 110 103 32 119 101 97 112 111 110 115 46 32 73 39 109 32 110 111 116 32 116 104 101 32 102 105 114 115 116 32 112 101 114 115 111 110 32 116 111 32 100 105 115 99 111 118 101 114 32 116 104 105 115 46 71 111 108 100 44 32 97 110 100 32 98 121 32 116 104 101 32 108 111 111 107 115 32 111 102 32 105 116 44 32 116 111 110 115 32 111 102 32 105 116 46 32 77 101 101 116 32 109 101 32 117 112 32 110 101 97 114 32 78 111 114 116 104 32 97 110 100 32 98 114 105 110 103 32 119 101 97 112 111 110 115 46 32 73 39 109 32 110 111 116 32 116 104 101 32 102 105 114 115 116 32 112 101 114 115 111 110 32 116 111 32 100 105 115 99 111 118 101 114 32 116 104 105 115 46 71 111 108 100 44 32 97 110 100 32 98 121 32 116 104 101 32 108 111 111 107 115 32 111 102 32 105 116 44 32 116 111 110 115 32 111 102 32 105 116 46 32 77 101 101 116 32 109 101 32 117 112 32 110 101 97 114 32 78 111 114 116 104 32 97 110 100 32 98 114 105 110 103 32 119 101 97 112 111 110 115 46 32 73 39 109 32 110 111 116 32 116 104 101 32 102 105 114 115 116 32 112 101 114 115 111 110 32 116 111 32 100 105 115 99 111 118 101 114 32 116 104 105 115 46 71 111 108 100 44 32 97 110 100 32 98 121 32 116 104 101 32 108 111 111 107 115 32 111 102 32 105 116 44 32 116 111 110 115 32 111 102 32 105 116 46 32 77 101 101 116 32 109 101 32 117 112 32 110 101 97 114 32 78 111 114 116 104 32 97 110 100 32 98 114 105 110 103 32 119 101 97 112 111 110 115 46 32 73 39 109 32 110 111 116 32 116 104 101 32 102 105 114 115 116 32 112 101 114 115 111 110 32 116 111 32 100 105 115 99 111 118 101 114 32 116 104 105 115 46

Admittedly, the code was just filler to cover 1,000 words. It even repeats itself, multiple times.

[Lord Shonus]

Your turn only started 3 days ago. You still have time to write more, so there's no need to hurry.


As for what you have, there's a confusing passage.

"The dirt-covered man in front of him was a hired gun, he’d kill anyone you ask him to, usually for a cost. Dan Canter was the exception, so long as he provided protection from the law. Though Dan didn’t need the free service. He was the richest man in the east."

It isn't clear if Canter's the exception in that he doesn't need to pay for killings, or that the hired gun won't go after him for pay. (it would also be nice to know why the assassin makes the exception, but that isn't crucial to establish right now.)

Also, as you've neglected to give the assassin a name, or much of a description, it will be hard for others to use him subtly.

[Ddynamo]

Yeah, I'm not much of a writer.

And yes, I meant Canter didn't need to pay,

[Lord Shonus]

Well, if your done, then I suppose Nirur Torir is up.

[Nirur Torir]

Alright, I think I'll throw in the "interdimensional" part of this "postapocalyptic interdimensional action-adventure." Should it be because of the apocalypse (A few portals, perhaps), or because of extradimensional interlopers?

[Fniff]

Combination of the two?

[Nirur Torir]

1000 words of story is harder than I thought. Seems to be about four scenes, but I probably shouldn't be writing in distinct small scenes. Next time will be better. You'll see, you'll all see.

Spoiler: Chapter 3 (click to show/hide)

   After a day of thinking it over, and mourning, Rebecca had decided that they couldn't keep the ranch. Aside from being too much work for two people, Rebecca was a poor shot, and refused to allow her twelve-year-old daughter to defend it. Hiring ranch hands was tempting, but her husband's friends had other responsibilities, and she couldn't accept the risk of hiring unknown men.


   Their best option, as Rebecca had decided, was to get what they could from selling the cattle all at once sell the ranch to the highest bidder, and find work in town. Maria was upset at the prospect of losing everything she'd grown up with, and continued to insist that they could handle the work. She was blown off as being too young and inexperienced.


   Now she sat on the house's roof, watching through tears as her mother returned, leading six of her father's friends. She stared blankly as they began herding most of the cattle away, and disappearing towards the town. They would return later, to drive the rest to the independent ranchers.


   Maria flopped back to stare at the clouds, her gun a comforting presence at her side. She thought about her father, how much her life would change, and how unfair everything was. She was startled by a gunshot, and noticed a house-mounted figure off in the distance. She clutched her gun nervously as he approached, then relaxed when she realized it was old Joel. He must have stayed behind to patrol the ranch.


   She waved to him, then noticed the sun was getting low in the sky. They should return soon. She climbed down from the roof easily, and went inside to prepare dinner.




   They were in good spirits when they returned, and spent the night so they could get an early start selling the rest of the cattle. Maria watched them leave at first light, feeling oddly at peace. Everything would turn out well. The money was safe in town, and the men had joked about how much she now had. She would miss her father, but life would go on. She went inside to finish repairing her jacket, humming an upbeat tune.


   That night, they still hadn't returned.




   “Pour the powder. Insert the bullet, then the wadding. Pack it with the ramrod.” Lawrence shook as he mechanically followed the directions, trying to focus on the droning voice instead of them. “Now aim, hold .. and pull the trigger.” Three shots rang out as one; a cloud of smoke trailed behind them. No effect.


   “Take a charge. Bite the charge.” Nothing could stop them. “Pour the powder.” He was going to die. He knew. “Insert the bullet.” They were too fast. He lost himself in the voice. They fired again. No effect. He reached for another charge, barely noticing that the voice had stopped. He felt arms grabbing his waist and lifting him as he brought the paper cartridge to his mouth. “Get to Keystsone. Find the sheriff. Warn him of - Warn him of bandits. No-one would believe this.”


   He barely registered the instructions, losing the gun as he was flung, and felt something beneath him. He shifted to get a better grip. “You're free, now go! Go!”


   He found himself on a horse, bolting away. He clung tighter as he turned his head, watching the wagon turn and slow. The things were on it in moments, and had jumped onto the people in the next instant. All fell beneath the rim of the wagon. His mind shut down completely.




   When Lawrence could think again, the horse was breathing heavily and slowly walking towards a stream. Miraculously, he had held on. He jerked his head around to look behind, and saw nothing but a rough dirt trail. Grass bent in a faint breeze, but there was no sign of any pursuit. Noticing his own parched throat, he carefully dismounted, still clutching the reins.


   Bending down to drink, he winced as he noticed new aches from his ride. He carefully looked around the horizon. “Maybe just a short rest.” He checked the horse for saddlebags, then himself, but found no food. All he had was his clothes, a pouch of paper cartridges, a folding knife, and his leather medical kit.


   He frowned at that, then thought back to the attackers. So many legs - ten? The spider/crab things had each been the size of a small dog, and surprisingly fast, despite a bulky shell .. armor? Carapace. That was the word. Their bullets had done nothing, if they had even hit. When The Rider had tried to get close to use his sword - blood, so much blood. They were all dead. His father, the friendly postal workers he'd known for three years.


   He shook his head. He had to focus on something else, anything else. He counted his cartridges . There were sixteen. He had no gun. Should he drop them? They were light. He kept them. His medical kit had bandages, matches, a few needles, thread, scissors, a container of booze, and a small vial of herbal salve. He took the alcohol and closed his kit.


   A loud noise squawked behind him. He threw himself back onto the horse and was already moving before his mind caught up and realized it was just a bird. He considered his alcohol for a long moment, then returned it. Showing up in a new town reeking of drink and on a 'stolen' postal horse wouldn't be worth it. He rode on, towards where he hoped Keystone was, trying to ignore that he hadn't had any water.




   Hive Node 71526 broadcast *relief* as the quartet of scouts returned. It reviewed their memories as they drew near at a fraction of their expected rate. Each was heavily burdened with biomass and uninjured. It noted that this area had adequate food with poor defenses. It broadcast *gratitude / Hive will thrive.*


   Each scout relayed its *joy* at the praise, and piled their loads near a mouth. Two skittered off to chase each other, still transmitting *happiness.* One quickly scampered up the side of the Hive Node and snuggled into it while watching the horizon. The fourth chittered as it was left alone to feed the Hive Node, and began moving the biomass while announcing its *mild annoyance.*


   Hive Node 71526 analyzed the food while digesting, and was pleased by the compatibility. It began charging for the heavy psionic burst required to communicate across dimensions, and back to the rest of the Hive: *Potential world / probing for Slayers.*


   If this world continued to prove suitable, it would call for more Hive Nodes. The Hive would continue to grow.

Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)

I couldn't figure out any reason for a twelve-year-old girl to participate in any action-adventure-y stuff if her mother was still around, particularly with a good deal of wealth from a ranch on prime real estate. Sorry for resorting to the sort of cliche.

Lawrence is a doctor-in-training, somewhere around 16-20. That is probably not an accurate depiction of post-battle shock.

I had trouble figuring out a dimension traveler that wouldn't just overpower everything with technology and easily accomplish whatever goals they have. So .. Not-Zerg scouting force. (As with most things in life, they are completely immune to smoothbore musket fire from the back of a horse-drawn wagon.)

[Lord Shonus]

Baffler should be next. I have pm'd Baffler.

[Lord Shonus]

Don't look like Baffler's going to manage it, so Fniff is about to be up.

[Fniff]

Hundred words over the halfway mark.

[Lord Shonus]

You're a little overdue. Are you finished?

[Fniff]

I am, but I'm not entirely satisfied with it. Give me a day or two.

[Lord Shonus]

Well, we really need it posted, because we're well past your due date now.

[Fniff]

Sorry, I'm afraid you're going to have to skip my turn. I just don't have it down right and it'd be inappropriate methinks.

[Lord Shonus]

We're not exactly expecting Shakespeare here.