Jul. 5th, 2018

aaaaaaaagh_sky: (thoughtful)
[personal profile] aaaaaaaagh_sky
[Out of Milliways: the Castle is full of crabs. A judgment call must be made.]

Okay. So.

There were people at University Point. They'd been there a good few years, despite the crabs. They'd heard of the Capital Wasteland; there were, they'd said, traders who traded with people who traded with Capital traders. All they'd had was rumor, but the one bit of rumor that caught Ellen's attention was that the Brotherhood was apparently known among traders as the people with their hands on the water supply.

Well, it wasn't the worst reputation.

And it was, frankly, better than the reputation of the other organization that the University Point settlers mentioned. The castle, it seemed had been the headquarters of an attempted local militia calling themselves the Minutemen. Had been. Word was that a sea monster had attacked the castle and scattered the Minutemen to the winds, and now if you wanted to hear anything about them you had to find the last few left in Quincy, or go north and look for somebody named Wire. From the sound of things, nobody particularly cared for the prospect. There was no real love in University Point for defenders who fled the scene.

The people at University Point had no attachment to the castle themselves, and said that if the strangers from the south wanted to try to take it, they were more than welcome, but they'd better prepare for their own funerals first. However, if they managed to survive somehow, and hold off whatever the sea monster was, the mayor of University Point had indicated that he'd be willing to send food traders their way to take the crabmeat off their hands.

So.

Ellen's got some planning to do.
golden_lyre: (drinking)
[personal profile] golden_lyre
Orpheus is annoyed when he comes into the bar today (via the door, rather than the lake). His guitar is back to being a guitar, and he is wearing only a pair of very faded, very frayed cargo shorts, and a ring on a chain around his neck. He's had a haircut since he was last here, and his hair is sun-bleached, his skin sun-browned.

He stalks, barefoot, to the bar and sets his guitar to one side. He's greeted with a glass of water.

"Not today, sweetheart," he says. "Rum. Leave the bottle."

A generously filled tumbler and an open bottle of rum appear next to the water, which Orpheus ignores in favor of downing the glass of rum and pouring himself another.