Firstborn of the Frontier

"So yeah, Chrissy, I won't be heading west solo no more. Ain't that great? No need to worry about little old Howie no more."

It's a fine line I'm walking here. Gotta appear all nonchalant so as not to hurt Chrissy's feelings while doing my best to convince her to stay home instead of tagging along. Much as I love her, I don't relish the idea of bringing her out to the Deadlands. If Tina or Aunty Ray came along with, then things would be different, but they both much too busy to be going out on a lark. While Aunty Ray ain't wholly against Chrissy stretching her wings, I still don't think it's a great idea to bring her out without another woman I trust to help look after her.

Not because I'm super worried about Chrissy's safety, though I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. What I'm really concerned about is lady issues, whether it be Aunty Flow or getting it in her head that I should wash her hair. She's asked before, and both me and Aunty Ray both shut it down right quick, but you never know when whimsy might strike and what form it'll take.

Granted, I got some options to fall back on if Chrissy decides she still wants to come with. Not great options if I'm being honest, because while Astrid is a real gem, she's got impulse control issues and a real temper at times. Granted, I ain't seen her fly off the handle in years now, but it's plain to see how easily she gets riled up when her skin literally glows with emotion. I trust Elodie too, mostly to be herself. Which means she's likely to go along with whatever suggestions Chrissy makes just to see how it goes. The green-haired girlie is sweet as can be, but she got a strange way of thinking which I can't always follow. Like when she got spooked by the Mindspire and went a swimming out into the lake. Ended up going from her home, to Mueller's Quay, and then most the way to New Hope before getting lost in the forest while running from Abby. Granted, for most problems we'll run into, turning into a baby diamondclaw would probably solve them right quick, especially if she's tough enough to tank a Bolt or three. Least that's what Miss Amelie claims, that small arms fire won't do much to Elodie unless they're Armour Penetrating, but I'd rather not test that theory out firsthand.

So best case scenario? I convince Chrissy that I got plenty of backup on my trip out to the Deadlands, and she decides that she don't want to come with. That's why I spend the next little bit going on and on about how rough it's gonna be on the choppy waters with all of us crammed into tight quarters, how there won't be nothing to eat besides hardtack and pemmican because there ain't no time to cook, or how it'll be all business and no play since we got so much work to get through. The Princess ain't necessarily lazy, as she got no problems keeping me company and even helping out while I do chores. Course she got her limits same as anyone else, so eventually she'll head off to do something on her own or tell me it's time for a quick break, so I'm trying to impress upon her that there ain't gonna be no breaks on this trip.

There's also the fact that I'm putting her to work today. Convinced her to wear an armoured plate carrier because she sure as shooting gonna be wearing one if she wants to come west. Which ain't as easy as it sounds, seeing how it's 16 pounds in Darksteel plates alone, and hardly comfy to wear. Especially given the early Spring weather we're having. Still cold, but not bone-numbing cold on any exposed skin, so Chrissy's really feeling the weight of her protective gear and the bundle of canned goods I got her lugging around. Sweet bull that he is, Cowie keeps trying to take her burden from her, but the Princess is a stubborn one and hugs her package like it's the most precious thing in the world while I tell her all about how boring and arduous this trip is gonna be.

I know Aunty Ray said she didn't want me making things hard on Chrissy so she quits, but I gotta put a little pressure on to make sure she don't crumble right quick while we out in the field. Hurts to do it, yet at the same time it warms my heart to see her put so much effort into this just so she can watch my back. I guess she might've also been bitten by the travel bug too, and our tumultuous trip out the mesa didn't dissuade her none, so I'm thinking we gonna be a party of six heading downriver to the Deadlands.

Ain't the worst thing in the world, if I'm being honest. Especially now that we got an effective means of communication in ASL. She don't even really need to see my gestures to get the gist of what I'm saying. All she gotta do is feel the flows and that's enough to get her to listen to what I'm saying. Put them both together, and she's picking up a good 90% of what I'm putting down. That's huge, as I used to have to sit her down and make sure she's really paying attention when I got something important to say. Plus, I'll have Elodie and Astrid along for this trial run, so I can ask them to let me know what sort of help Chrissy needs in private. If it ain't nothing too too personal, then might be I could bring her out on more trips.

Not every trip of course, as I wouldn't want to bring her out bounty hunting if it was just me and her. A trade run though? That's fair game, assuming I find a new route to replace my customary run up to the Muskari Steppes by way of Meadowbrook and Wabasca. Don't rightly know if I want to cross paths with all of Marcus' former subordinates, a good portion of whom were also Wayne's subordinates and Connor's friends. Most rightly blame me for all three deaths, though they don't know the whole of it, and I'd rather not answer any uncomfortable questions regarding what went down under dark or in the Vanguard National bunker.

That's why I'm headed west after all, and from the set of Chrissy's jaw as she carries her package through the busy streets of New Hope, it looks like she'll be coming along with. Unable to bear it any longer, I gently take the package from her and drape it over big Cowie's shoulders in spite of her protests, as she gets to signing that she can handle it. Also gets me a shrill 'Kee' from Frowny who don't much like this new package invading his personal space, but Stella and Terrance settle down atop it like it's all a big game and Frowny follows suit when he sees there's nothing to worry about.

That's why I got them extra birds with me, even though Frowny's the only one who's gotta stay close. Kiccaws are a social bunch, and Stella and Terrance make great emotional ballast for Frowny as he struggles to come to terms with his new world view. Got no idea what it is he's seeing, but chances are he's sensing Aether Flows for the first time ever and it's got him all out of sorts. Once I see he's calm and settled, I turn to Chrissy to say and sign, "I know you can handle it Princess, but I'm feelin' lonely walking all by myself." Offering her my arm, I smile and say, "Come on now. We still got things to do and places to be."

Sweet girl that she is, Chrissy gives the round bird a gentle pat on the head before taking my arm, and I gotta say, I much prefer this. So much nicer having her at my side as opposed to trailing a step or two behind because she's hyper focused on her task. It's a rare treat to go shopping with Chrissy, so I might as well make the most of it while I can. Puts a bounce in my step it does, enough to let me ignore all the unfriendly eyes turned my way as we head on to our next destination.

Which just so happens to be one of my favourite stores in New Hope: the military surplus store. While Mr. Kalthoff is my first choice for guns and other mundane gear, and Gunnar's always been my go-to for alchemical goods, the military surplus store is usually my first stop whenever I need to pick up any cheap or mass produced Imbued or Augmented goods. Darksteel plates, Ward posts, trail marker chalk, Stabilizing tourniquets, and more, there's plenty of stuff I could use hidden in the seemingly endless shelves of the poorly lit store.

One run by a former Ranger by the name of Miles who done lost both his legs beneath the knee and most of his left arm to an Ankhrav ambush. My daddy and Uncle Raleigh kept the Feral from eating the rest of Miles, so he always been good to me and Chrissy as he greets us with a big, bright smile. "Well look who the cat dragged in," he says, chortling as he rolls out from behind the counter to greet us proper. "Good to see you Howie. Princess." The latter is accompanied by a small bow at the waist, which Chrissy returns with a curtsey. Earns her a wide-eyed look and a full-on chuckle because he ain't used to seeing her so responsive.

"Good to see you too Miles," I say, extending my prosthetic for a shake because that's the only hand he's got. "How's the Etching lessons going?"

"Slow man, slow." Shaking his head as he clasps my hand, Miles says, "It's some complicated stuff, and I was never all that good at studying. Danny's a great teacher though, so I'll get there eventually." Still holding my hand, he flips it back and forth for a better look at the Runes and construction showing from under my glove. "Man, the more I learn, the more impressive this gets. I don't think I'll ever make a full-on prosthetic that can do what you do, but even a regular Automaton would go a long way to helping me out around the shop, or at the very least propel my wheelchair until I can get a small engine on it. Wish I pushed myself to learn this sooner."

"The prosthetic ain't as impressive as you think," I say. "It's pretty bare bones, and I still get more use outta my Mage Hands." On cue, our glowing blue Mage Hands bump fists in mid air before doing a quick game of rock paper scissors. He loses of course, because he always picks rock, while I always pick paper, and we get a little laugh outta it. "You ever get to the point where you wanna see my notes on Crafting and Scripting, I'll bring them out for you. Hopefully, they'll even make sense once I figure out what works and what doesn't."

"Might take you up on it," he says with a smile, before gesturing at the stacks. "Plenty of new product you could use out West. Like a Dewbane charm for your wagon. The swampy Deadlands are gonna get real muggy and humid in a few weeks time, enough so that anything that gets wet won't dry without one close by."

I knew it was all swampy marshland up in the Deadlands, but I didn't know about the moisture thing. Goes to show that there ain't no substitute for experience, so I thank him for the input and head right on over to have a look-see. Turns out a Dewbane charm is a length of copper tubing that done had a simple circuit Etched into it. When powered on, it draws in air from the bottom and cools it right quick using a combination of Gust and Freeze Cantrips. The condensation then drips down into a reservoir underneath the tube which I'm supposed to empty every now and then, so I pick up a half dozen to stash around the boat and wagon. I could probably make one with a little bit of research and elbow grease, but I've made enough hunting bounties these last few weeks to spend a bit more freely.

With my cash burning a hole in my pocket, and seeing how Miles probably knows more about what I'd need in the Deadlands, I ask, "Any other suggestions?"

"Lip balm," he says with a grin. "Those Dewbane Charms work pretty well, so your lips'll crack like a desert rock. Also, it'll be pricy, but a set of Sanctuary Stakes might save your life out there, or at least give you time enough to rest and recuperate." Wheeling over a few rows, he heads down the stacks to bring me right to the stakes he's recommending as I ain't ever heard of them. "The Mindspire kicked off a whole chain reaction as the Feds don't wanna be caught flatfooted again," Miles explains, tossing me a leather pouch filled with six metal stakes with a silvery sheen. "That's how we got new gadgets like these."

Knowing better than to touch an unfamiliar piece of Magical gear, I give Miles a look who gestures for me to proceed. The Appraisal Cantrip is a strange one that I ain't ever been able to really explain. Most folks think I touch an object and bunch of words pop into my head to tell me its material composition. It'd be much more useful if it did, but it's more of a… smell. There's no visual, auditory, or tactile aids, no colours or shimmers or numbers and letters, just a general vibe that washes over me. It's like walking into a bakery and getting hit by the scent of fresh bread. You might catch a hint of cinnamon and think there gonna be some sweet rolls, or a waft of aromatic sourdough that could almost be called pungent without spilling over into unpleasant. Thing is, that cinnamon could be bapple pie, and the sourdough could come in rolls, biscuits, or even English Muffins, so you still gotta know your stuff, but the smell alone is enough to get an inkling of what the bakery got to offer.

And this Sanctuary Stake? It's got a clean scent, like laundry right out of the dryer or the kitchen after a vinegar scrub. Not necessarily pleasant, mind you, but most certainly fresh and spotless. That's the 'smell' I typically get from Mithril, a metal that's more-pure than any other, but there are notes of copper, tin, and iron mixed in. There's only a hint of Mithril, but it's so powerful and overwhelming that it's the first thing I notice. Probably less than percent of a percent of each stake is Mithril, but that's how in your face the metal be. Largely because it resonates with Aether so well, which is the biggest reason as why it's such a hot commodity. Other reasons include its light weight and high strength, making it great for armour if you've got enough cash to buy… well, a whole village.

Maybe I should buy myself a Mithril chain vest. Doubt I could afford a breast place, but simple chain-link vest should be well within my means, and might well save my life if a Bolt gets through my Darksteel plates.

Something to consider after I sell off every house in my village, and a real good argument for not donating the proceeds. We'll see how things go, but for now, I'm more interested in this Sanctuary Stake. Knowing the game well, Miles don't say nothing and just grins as I break out my wand and set up for a Detect Magic Ritual to see what's what. Doesn't take me long, but by the time I've figured out the flows, Chrissy has already lost interest in the stakes and is looking over the shelves for anything new and interesting.

"This a Protection from Abby Ward?" I ask, even though I'm fairly certain of the answer, and Miles slaps his thigh to hear it.

"Got it in one, kid," Miles says, which I don't mind because he's an old friend and says it with affection. "A mobile one that's good for 8 hours of use in six separate instances. Meaning you can put them down, sleep a full eight, then pull them up and put them away to save the juice for the next night, or reactivate them and keep the Ward going."

"Rechargeable?"

"Not in the traditional sense." Grimacing, Miles shakes his head and explains, "There's no Spell Core or Aether tank to top up. Instead, the stakes got a set number of 'charges', or instances of Protection From Abby stored inside. Highly efficient instances of the Spell that no manual Spellslinger could manage thanks to some clever construction that's beyond me, but that's for eggheads to debate about. For you and me, it's best to think about it like an Artifact that will cast Protection from Aberration on the area encompassed within the stakes. It can do this six times, with each instance lasting eight hours a piece, and after that, you gotta recharge it manually by casting an upcasted, Third Order Protection from Aberration without Metamagic on the leather casing while the stakes are inside. Each Cast of the Spell will only give you half a charge though, so best to wait until you somewhere safe to juice it up since that's twelve Third Order Spells if they're totally spent."

There are a few more wrinkles, like how the Spell will shut off as soon as 8 hours are up and won't automatically refresh itself, but otherwise, these Sanctuary Stakes are perfect for warding off the Soulless. Aside from Bolt, Protection From Aberration might well be the most overengineered Spell available to humanity as a whole, and one we created ourselves. Most Spells are reverse engineered from Spell Cores, but much like Detect Magic, Protection From Aberration has roots predating even the Qin Immortal Monarch. It's a real doozy of a Spell too, because even though it's only First Order, it does a whole lot of different things that can come in handy in a pinch.

First and foremost by acting as a buffer against Enchantment Spells. Not just ones cast by Abby, Proggies, or amplified by Mindspires either. I'm talking all Enchantment Spells in general, which is why banks and high-end jewellery stores always make it a priority to install Protection From Abby Wards in key areas. Keeps unscrupulous Enchanters from walking in and mind-whammying the employees to hand over the goods. Thing is, them Wards be expensive to place and maintain, so the price scales exponentially with volume of coverage. Hell, doing a whole house might well have emptied out my bank account and then some, but it would've been well worth it.

Granted, most of the money would be the cost of hiring an Abjurer with the know-how to lay a Ward that large, as it ain't as simple as an Alarm Ward. The best way I've heard it explained is that an Alarm Ward is like building a wall, whereas a Protection From Abby Ward is more like building a giant domed structure with no central supports. Do it wrong and the whole thing will collapse under its own Metaphysical weight, and it's a whole lot harder than you'd think. Add in the fact that Wards can't be moved once they're placed and you can see why I pushed Tina, Chrissy, and Aunty Ray to take shelter in the church when the Mindspire was in full-effect.

Looks like someone went the extra mile though, because these Sanctuary Stakes seem like new tech. Or old tech that no one thought to make until a demand for it popped up. I guess that big brain tank Uncle Teddy gathered up uncovered some good ideas, and I stand to benefit from it. The biggest downside is the fact that it'll take 12 Third Order Spell casts to charge the stakes back to full. I can do 4 in a day if I don't cast anything else, meaning it would take 3 sleep cycles for me to completely charge it after the fact. Chrissy can't help either, because she don't know the Spell, and I doubt Elodie does either. Maybe Gunnar knows it, and he might even have the reserves to charge it more than 4 times in a day, but I wouldn't bet on it. Man's an Alchemist, not a Spellslinger, meaning his focus is on creating and researching Potions as opposed to expanding his Aether Tank to sling as many Spells as he can.

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Not every old timer is as accomplished a Spellslinger as Aunty Ray after all. She's an exceptional woman she is, so I can't be expecting too too much from Gunnar.

That said, I got my suspicions regarding Harald and Astrid, who might well be heavy hitters in their own right. Even if they don't got any Third Order Spells just yet, which I doubt is the case, they're still Innates with a bloodline heavily focused on Evocation. While they might not have the gas to go eight rounds with Abby, they could probably clear out a sizeable swarm all by their lonesome, and they'd do it right quick. There are plenty of good Second Order Evocation Spells that could help them along. Scorching Beam is a penetrating Spell that can pierce through multiple targets for a through and through, and like I mentioned before, they probably got control enough to make it ricochet off of whoever they please. Then there's Elemental Aura, or more specifically Scorching Aura considering their predilection for fire-based magics. That'll burn anyone and anything within a set range around them, a Spell I seen Captain Jung use to great effect under dark in Pleasant Dunes.

Bolt Salvo. Lance. Moonbeam. Shatter. All great Second Order Evocation offerings, and if their bloodline got a toehold in Conjuration, that opens up a whole slew of Flame-based Spells for them to use. Flamethrower is the big one, a Second Order Spell so efficient and effective they banned it's use in warfare against humans. Elemental Orb, Flame Cloud, Shardburst, and more, there's plenty of dangerous Spells that Harald and Astrid might well have access to and would come in real handy against Abby, but it'd be a faux paux to ask them about it even though we travelling together. They've revealed a little, but Scorching Beam aside, no illegal or restricted Spells, and that's where all the real juice be, so I'm eager to find out more.

Then again, might be there's no need for the Askefjord siblings to step up in a big way, not with Chrissy coming along to watch my back. She's already a proper Magus with not three, not four, but five Big Spells to her name, two of which are heavy hitters. Not many Spellslingers out there who'd prep Psychic Scream and Phantasmal Force, because one or the other is good enough, but Chrissy got both. She's also got Catnap, which is useful as all heck, and Mental Fortress which will come in real handy against Mimics and their wide array of Mental Attacks. Last but far from least, she's got Major Illusion, which might well be the most versatile Third Order Spell around so long as you ain't trying to kill something. The only hitch would be explaining to Chrissy what Illusion to throw up, but she did damn good in the badlands when she threw up an Illusion of herself, her mama, and her sister standing in place while Tina used the Invisibility Spells stored in her bracers to get everyone out of dodge safely.

Yeah, forget potential. Chrissy is a heavy hitter as she is, and still got plenty of room to grow. Maybe she picks up Hypnotic Pattern next, or Shadow Clone which is like Tina's Echo on steroids, except it's a Third Order Spell that requires Concentration and only lasts an hour per cast. Then again, seeing how she already got Psychic Scream, it wouldn't come as no surprise for her to get Fear too. Even though they're similar Spells in different Schools, like I said before, them Schools are a label we use to try and organize what we know about magic, while magic don't care one whit about fitting in all them boxes.

So with this perspective in mind, I ask Miles, "You got any gear you can recommend for Chrissy?" Man only raises an eyebrow, but he don't second guess me about whether Chrissy's ready for this or not, especially since he sees she's already wearing an armoured plate carrier. Instead, he listens as I list out a few possibilities that come to mind, with the first and foremost being a Selective Metamagic Rod so she can throw out her Big Spells without hitting friendlies in the area of effect.

"I think I got just the thing," Miles says, grinning from ear to ear as he heads on back behind the counter where the pricey stuff is stored. Rummages around for just a bit, then pulls out a wooden jewellery box. Nothing fancy like the velvet lined boxes that came with the engagement rings I bought, just simple and functional wood that's been polished to a shine. "Here it is," he says with a grin. "Made to order a few months back for a boot who was expected to sign on, but ended up getting poached instead." Horse-faced Sally would be my guess, as she was a fairly promising boot who bowed out after learning the truth of what was waiting for us in Pleasant Dunes.

Guess someone was a poor judge of character then, because I could've told them Sally wasn't ever gonna be Ranger material. At best, she'd squeak through because the Rangers need all the help they could get, and they'd be worse off for it. There ain't ever been a more self-involved girl than Sally, so asking her to make the hard choice and put her own life at risk for others is like asking hogs to fly.

Suppose it's to my benefit now though, as Miles cracks open the box and shows me a pair of big, hoopy earings. I ain't talking about little rings. I'm talking full on hoops, ones too small to fit on a wrist, but not far from it. Josie had herself a pair just like these, made out in bronze that paired so well with a red or yellow ribbon. Wore it when I ran into her and Noora outside the bakery during the Mindspire, before I succumbed to temptation at the gun range and changed my life forevermore. These ones in particular are coloured in silver, though not because they got some Mithril like the Sanctuary Stakes. No, it's just plain old silver, which ain't exactly cheap, but nowhere close in value to Mithril. Still a pretty good Aetheric Conductor though, and I don't need no Appraisal or Detect Magic to know what I'm looking at.

"Metamagic hoop earrings?" I ask, making a face like I don't like it much. Truth is, I don't, because who in their right mind would order something like this? They're too obvious, right there in your face every time you look at whoever wearing them, meaning there's next to no chance of missing out on seeing what they really are. Hard not to spot the Etches carved into the earrings, which are fairly thick for what they are and probably weigh more than you'd like to hang off your ears. Not that I know much about earrings, as my daddy said a piercing is just another handhold for whoever you fighting, one that could tear you up right quick. Following along with the Etches, I quickly discover the first is Selective like I requested, but I can't make heads or tails of the second. Mostly because I was looking for Selective, and got no idea where to start with the other.

Luckily, Miles don't keep me hanging. "Selective and Heighten," he says with a grin, and it takes me a second to remember what Heighten does. Seeing the face I make, Miles guffaws and nods in agreement. "Yeah, I got no idea what they was thinking either. It's a pretty niche Metamagic, making Spells that can be resisted harder to shake off. Useful yeah, but not useful enough to need on you at all times." Gesturing at Chrissy, who's got both eyes locked on the earrings and is clutching her hands to keep from reaching out to grab them, Miles grins and pushes the box closer to her. "Perfect for the Princess here though, and she'll look lovely as a rose wearing them."

Not to mention there won't be no fumbling around for Metamagic Rods, forgetting to use them in the heat of the moment, or borrowing my mama's bead bracelet all the time. If Chrissy's wearing them earrings, she'll know they're there because they'll be active every time she slings a Spell. It's a little like walking up a steep incline. You might get used to it after a time, but you won't ever forget that you're moving uphill. It'll be the same with them Metamagic earrings, as you gotta conscientiously keep the Metamagic from affecting your Spell, like an opt-out option rather than opt in. "You like them Chrissy?" I ask, before repeating the question twice more with ASL until she finally notices because she's enraptured by the earrings. Then and only then does she nod like a kiccaw pecking grains, and I ain't sure how much of my explanation she gets when I tell her she gotta wear them earrings and be careful not to overuse them.

Reason being a Metamagic Rod is a little like a finger on the end of a hose. Turn the water on, and it flows naturally. Stick your finger over the end, and you change the flow. Could slow it down to a trickle, send it jetting out in a spray, or just get in the way and do little to nothing at all. Either way, your finger is in there, and if the water is cold or hot, then it might well freeze or burn you.

Or you know… build up so much pressure from the blockage that the hose eventually explodes and takes you out with it. Because it ain't water you stopping. It's Aether, and that can have some real disastrous outcomes if you overdo it with a Metamagic aide.

Here's hoping Chrissy listens well enough, or at the very least, will be able to sense when it's too dangerous to keep using them. There's no helping it, because Chrissy ain't about to walk out of Miles' shop without them earrings on, so I spend a good chunk of change to pay for them and everything else I done picked out. Without letting him give me a discount either, because I know he paying Danny for them lessons too. Though might be I should've accepted a tiny discount, as I won't have enough to pick up a gift for Tina, which means she's gonna get sour and sulk about it. Always claims I play favourites, but it ain't true. I love Chrissy to bits, and I love Tina just as much. I'm no good at showing it is all, but she ought to know better by now.

The worst part? I won't even get to see her pout about it, as she ain't here in town. Was supposed to have the weekend off and join me on this shopping trip, as it might well be the last time I'm in town for a while. Thing is, Catfish Kairi showed up early this morning to drag Tina out on yet another Badlands patrol and robbed us of our little get together. A shame that, but hopefully I'll get to see her before I set sail for the west coast, even if it's only from the docks.

At least I don't gotta worry about Tina's gear, as she can pretty much get whatever she needs so long as she puts in a request. Might take awhile if it's something rare or expensive, but they could get a Selective Metamagic Rod in her hand within hours of making a request, if not faster. This here is the surplus store after all, meaning all Miles got is what the Rangers don't want.

Feeling a touch maudlin over Tina's absence, I bid Miles farewell and head out with Chrissy on my arm, Cowie on my heels, and the kiccaws chirping up a storm as they greet or threaten every person we pass. Hard to stay sour in the face of all this, especially with Chrissy feeling over the moon, as she got her hoop earrings on and a bounce in her step as she strolls alongside me. Wish I could say the same, because even though I'm doing all that I can to appear calm and cordial, all the sideways glances and outright glares got my hackles up, and Cowie don't much like it either. Most I shake off as we head back onto the main thoroughfare to pick up a few more things for cheap on Miles' suggestion. An oilskin poncho for Chrissy, extra filter cloths for filling canteens, rock salt for Rituals and drawing out leeches, and plenty of other miscellaneous items that could come in handy.

Would be real nice to get some Mire-Walker boots, which is what they call boots Imbued with Water Walking. Doesn't let you skate overtop water like the Spell would, but you can walk over mud like its firm ground without having to worry too too much about your footing. Most folks never even think about it, but in a fight, footwork is everything. Unless you hunkered down behind good, unassailable cover, there's gonna come a time when you gotta move. And when you gotta move, you wanna really move, not be slipping and sliding all about while trying to find your footing. Imbued items ain't cheap though, so I ain't about to invest the cash into something like that until I know I'll be going back often enough to make my money's worth.

Fact is, you could give me 10 grand and I could spend it all on gear in a heartbeat. Life in general is pay to win, as money can be turned in an unassailable advantage. That's how the U.F.A stays winning after all, by having all the best gear and gadgets money can buy alongside more planes, boats, tanks, and missiles than the next three biggest armies combined. That said, the best gear won't guarantee you'll make it home alive, though it'll give you a better chance than the schmuck beside you who don't got nothing but the clothes on his back. Either way, I done spent most of what I earned already, save for $100 I'm saving for incidentals on the trip. With nothing left to buy, I set course for Miss Dawson's to pick up my order of bulk candies, because I can only eat so many honey drops before they lose their appeal. After that, it's home to spend some time with Aunty Ray and see what she thinks about actually letting Chrissy come with.

Least that's the plan, but halfway there, I spot a somewhat familiar face that pops out from the crowd to stand in our path, though I can't quite remember his name. Kid's got a rat face only his mother could love, and while he hyped himself up to come bar my path, he shirks back like the coward he is when he meets my eyes. He got himself a pistol on his hip, but not the Squire I seen him with before, as well as a plinker of hunting rifle slung over his shoulder. Got a good seven other friends who are also armed. Four with only pistols, one with another plinker, while the last two got themselves a pair of matching Blastguns. Double barrelled, breech loading Blastguns like my Dresden Forzares, only these ones ain't been cut down or Metamagicked for a full load. Civilian hunting guns most like, with only 20 Grain of Aether instead of the standard 40 for military rounds. Not only that, them Blastguns are slow to reload and not all that accurate, but I know better than most that you don't really need them to be. All you gotta do is point them in the right direction, give 'em both barrels, and you'll shred most anything within 5 meters even at half-Grainage.

For now, their Blastguns are slung over shoulders and pointed skywards, but that can change right quick. As for the kid who stepped up, he keeps his hand on his pistol because it makes him feel like a big man, never mind how he done already broke the law by brandishing an Aetherarm at me. Even under Federal Law, I got the right to defend myself already, but these fools here ain't smart enough to know that. Course, the juice ain't worth the squeeze, especially not with Chrissy here, so I move to step around only for the kid to move to block my path again while his buddies forming a semi-circle around us.

Luckily I got all this on Video already, so there's no need to fuss about with my Stetson. Instead, I move Chrissy to stand behind me alongside Cowie and the birds as I glance from face to face and show how I ain't impressed. All the while, I use this time to funnel the start of a Spell through my Metamagic bead bracelet to Eschew Verbal Components. Still requires some finger waggles and a pinch of powdered gemstone, but having faced down against so many outlaws of late, I decided it'd be best to glue a couple pinches of the stuff into the hem of my glove, the one I always wear over my prosthetic. Since it's close enough to my skin, the Spell is able to sublimate one patch of powdered gemstone as I clench my non-existent right hand into a fist and ready a Force Barrier.

The ghost of my hand screams with pain to have to do it, and that puts a grimace on my face these fools don't much like the look of. With my preparations made, my patience runs thin as these idiots continue to bar my path, and I'm done trying to walk away. "Well?" I ask, fixing my gaze on the rat-faced kid who's name I forgot. "If you got somethin' to say, then say it."

Then it strikes me, who this snivelling little shit is. He's the fella who was sniffing after Noora's skirts when they was in Basic together, but she never gave him the time of day. This is the same little shit who done pointed his gun at me when Dave drew on me without cause, the one who didn't have the courage to pull the trigger even though I wasn't armed with nothing but a hatchet.

Could've killed him then, and I could kill him here and now even with all his friends here to help him. He don't believe it though, because he's a fool and a coward with something to prove. Puffs up his chest he does, but not without glancing around to make sure his friends are still standing firm. "You got me washed out of the Rangers," he snarls, sounding whiny as all hell complete with a voice crack to remind us all he still ain't done with puberty.

"Oh?" Raising an eyebrow and cocking my head, I drawl, "Way I see it, you got yourself washed out by actin' a fool and drawin' on a civilian. Never point your weapon at somethin' you don't intend to shoot. Ain't that the first thing they teach you in Basic?" If it isn't, it should be. If this rat-faced fuck had shot me, then he'd still have been in the wrong, but at least it would've shown conviction. Instead, he balked and showed his true colours; yellow, spineless, and brainless to boot, because he done drew his weapon in a panic and pointed it at a non-target for no reason besides he was spooked.

Not the sort you want beside you in a firefight, and nowhere close to Ranger ready. Rat-Face here thinks different though, because he's the sort who can't accept his own faults. Maybe his mama was too sweet and spoiled him silly, or maybe he just got a self-inflated sense of self worth, but whatever the reason, he don't think the consequences of his own actions are his fault. No, I must've done something to screw him over, and his next statement even says as much. "That's bullshit and you know it," he hisses, getting right up in my face and stopping short when I don't flinch and he finds himself too close for comfort. Backing off, he scowls and declares, "I know you pulled some strings to get me bounced over a technicality. I was near the top of the class and a few weeks from finishing up, but then you fucked me over."

"Drawing on an unarmed civilian is hardly a technicality," I say, before nodding at the hand he still got clamped around his pistol and making sure my bull's head medallion gets a good look at it. "Neither is brandishing a deadly weapon, which is what each and every one of you with a hand on a pistol is currently doing. Under Federal Law, this can either be a misdemeanour or a felony. The former gets you a minimum of three months hard labour; the latter, three years." Leaning in, I look the rat-faced fuck dead in the eyes and say, "So which you prefer? Three months, or three years?" Seeing how he don't get it, I bare my teeth in a feral smile and clarify, "You already got the misdemeanour. Care to try for three years? Or would you rather step aside and wait for the Sheriff to come a callin'?"

Because if I gotta toe the line and follow all the rules, you can bet your bottom dollar I ain't about to let this slide. Not here with Chrissy by my side. A few months ago, I'd've happily beat them bloody because I got proper justification to defend myself, but I'm a changed man. Not all that changed, because I'd love nothing more than to stomp this little bitch into the ground. Least I ain't egging him on, so you can't say I haven't improved.

Unfortunately, Rat-face here don't see it that way. No, he sees my attempts to de-escalate as weakness, and like any coward, he jumps on it to make himself feel better about his fear. "Look at you," he sneers, still gripping his pistol in a white knuckled grip. "The big bad Firstborn is gonna go running to the Sheriff." He spits at my boots and I almost deck him on reflex, but he don't even catch the twitch of my shoulder because he's too busying scowling and squinting. "Don't even see why the law applies to a fucking Exiled Qink. We might as well be at war with you and yours, so you ought to be shot on sight." Eyes flicking over to Chrissy, he licks his lips, curls his lip, and opens his mouth to spew some sort of filth, but I done had enough.

All it takes is a thought to activate my prosthetic, one which clamps down around the rat-faced fuck's mouth and squeezes tight. At the same time, my left hand pins his right hand in place overtop his pistol to keep him from drawing as I pull him in close. Then and only then do I unleash my Spell, throwing up a Force Barrier between us and this snivelling little shit's friends, all of whom jump in place but lack the stones to actually draw.

Giving each a wide-eyed stare brimming with the promise of death, I make sure they ain't about to start nothing before turning my attention back to the rat-faced fuck. "Do not," I begin, having to force myself to breathe between words to get it all out without screaming, "Mistake my civility. For fear." The force of my prosthetic clamped around his jaw is easily enough to crush rocks, but most my fingers are pressing against soft tissue as opposed to hard bone. Fact is, he could probably wiggle free if he was willing to lose a bit of skin, but soon as he realizes he can't draw his gun, he froze in fear like the coward he is, unable to even look me in the eye as I tell him how it is. "You think I care enough about you to get you washed out? Even if I could I wouldn't bother, because you are nothing to me. You drew a gun on me sure, but I saw you tremblin' like a leaf and I knew you for the coward you are. So I wrote you off. Don't even remember your name if I'm bein' honest. All I remember is you a lily-livered milksop who ain't worth the air he breathin'. You thought you was gonna be a Ranger? Nah. You a waste of space is what you are, but ain't my job to take out the trash."

By now, our little exchange has gathered a crowd, one that ain't likely to come down on my side. With nothing else for it, I shove the rat-faced fuck into my Force Barrier and watch him slide down until he seated as his legs done gone turned to jelly on it. Eyeing him and his friends, I back away from them all keeping Chrissy, Cowie, and the kiccaws behind me while casting a Shield Spell. Don't no one go to help the little instigator of all this, but don't no one move to draw either, with three of his buddies even taking their hands off their weapons while the others are too stupid and dazed to do anything but stare. That's fine by me, because I've turned a new leaf and am now a live and let live sorta fella.

The low-whir of the winding sirens takes me by surprise, but I don't take my eyes off of rat-face and friends as that pitchy wail gets up to speed alerting any and all townsfolk of an oncoming Abby attack. Too early for a full-on siege out of the Badlands, so Harpies most likely. Ain't got nothing to do with me though, as I keep my Shield in between me and the greatest threat while bringing Chrissy away to seek shelter. Time was, I'd drop her off and see what I can do about Abby, but them times are long behind me. Didn't see no one on them streets stepping up to stop 8 armed men from menacing me and Chrissy while we was just going about our day. Fact is, I saw the opposite, as they didn't get up in arms until I made a move to defend myself, so I don't see no reason why I should risk my neck to keep any of them safe.

I know it ain't right, that I shouldn't wish harm on anyone, but there's a small, dark, hidden part inside me that hopes this attack goes horribly for the people of New Hope. Terrible I know, and even as I think it, I wish I hadn't, because now I'm gonna feel lower than a snake's belly if someone do get hurt. To make matters worse, this time last year, I fought off the Harpy attack with some help from Errol, Sarah Jay, and a couple good townies who been around long enough to know what's what, and if I had my guns I know I could do it again.

Just another reminder of how far I've fallen in less than a year's time, and how much I wish things were otherwise.