Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20170222205200/@comment-5543592-20170222205721

And so the outsiders continued their journey northwest aroun the Lake, then west to Vault 253. They heard the shocked and startled cries as the owner of the roadside bar came out of the bathroom to find his windows in ruins and his pattio a graveyard.

They passed through the badlands, over rolling hills, which provided wonderful views of the lake's clean surface. At one point they could see a massive castle to the north, sitting among the mountains, like an ancient European fortress.

As they headed west, they saw smoke rising from one portion of the forest. William would know this was the Mt. Hood settlement.

They entered the evergreen forest, passing under the calm, soothing shade of the ancient trees, and followed the length of a rusted chainlink fence that formed the barrier of the Issaquah Nation. Finally, a they penetrated deeper, into the heart of the forest, nearing the pass that would take them beyond the mountains and out of the Royal Wasteland, they drew near to Vault 253.

And heard something large skulking through nearby foliage. Something was hunting them.

 The roadside bar of the Badlands lay in ruins, the Frumentarii slain among it. Their bodies were a mess, most of them maimed and in pieces, gore and organs strewn about. One poor sucker had been torn in half.

 A man in brown cloak wearing a titanium mask paced among the flattened tents and corpses, before crouching beside one Frumentarii. The man had a stake driven through his chest, and blood dribbled out from the corners of his mouth, but he was still alive.

 “You disturbed forces beyond your ken.”   Kheiro noted.

 The Frumentarii made a choking noise in response.

 “Attempting to harness a psyker. An admirable but ultimately… foolish endeavor.”   Kheiro set his hand on the stake. “And you paid for it.”   He grasped the stake and yanked it out of the man’s chest. The Frumentarii gave merely a grunt of pain as the stake was torn free, and then died.

 “Hm. I expected more from Caesar’s best.”   Kheiro muttered, tossing the stake aside. He rose again, and turned to face his ever silent soldiers.

 “Search the area for anything that might interest me. Leave no stone unturned.”   He kicked one of the legionnaires’ corpse and said. “The prophecy is not about these…” He searched for a word, “Cadavers.”

 Kheiro was turning to go, intending to follow his prey further, when a voice called out to him.

 “You…”

 He turned around, and found a man basically buried underneath a horse, only his head poking out. The skin of half his face was torn off, bloodying his eye and exposing slimy red flesh and yellow fat underneath that now slid about in the open air. The worst part of his wound was that it wasn’t initially fatal, but the following infection would undoubtedly kill him. The group would’ve recognized the remaining half of the man’s face as belonging to Praetorian Gracius Drucus.

 “I know you. The masked man and his Hundred Hands. Don’t think…” he wheezed and spat out blood that had spilled into his mouth. “Don’t think I don’t recognize you. We’ve been tracking your movements for months. You think you can hide from the Frumentarii… but no one is safe from Caesar’s eyes.”

 Kheiro slowly approached the Praetorian, curious at what the legionnaire was trying to accomplish. By drawing Kheiro’s attention he had only sealed his fate.

 “Who led you to think I’m hiding?”   Kheiro asked, standing over him. “This mask is for your protection, not mine.”

 “The Legion… the Legion will come to this land one day. And the standard of the bull will fly over the Emerald City. Nothing you or anyone else does will stop that.”   Gracius tried to make it sound like a threat of some sort, as if he was trying to intimidate or strong arm Kheiro.

 “If you think the armies of any mortal man are my concern, then you have mistaken my purpose here.”   He lifted his boot and set it down on Gracius’ facial wound, causing the Praetorian to let out a pained scream. “But I have no desire to share it with you.”

 He pressed his weight down onto Gracius’ face until there was a snap and more than blood wet the sand.