Chapter I- The Outset
The town of Little Twister hadn't changed at all since the criminals had last been there. It was still a crummy little town of dishonest men who were allegedly policed by an ineffectual sheriff who was as crooked as the rest of the inhabitants of town. If there was a place in all the world that would make the wasteland appear hospitable, it was this town.
It was the birthplace of the most notorious Drifter to ever take flight, Janus Cascade. A man who was driven by greed, power and fear of his own mortality, into surrendering his humanity and becoming one of the demons of legend. Of course, his life had ended by the very power he sought, and yet he remained a legend. Perhaps this would have pleased him, to know that his infamy had not dwindled with the passage of time.
Of course, these criminals were in those banks as well, nearing Janus in infamy. A group as obvious as them stood out in a crowd, and were reviled for being the murderers of Lamium, a man who represented not just an ideal of peace, but was the physical embodiment of the inquisitive nature of the human race. One does not martyr an innocent man and go without record or name, and such was the case with these criminals.
Although, they were innocent as well. Puppets in the final victory of the demon Beatrice. The humans who had, in fact, saved the world would go down in history as villains. They would be hunted, and know no rest. It made Virginia sick to her stomach every time she thought about it.
She sat across the table from the rest of her comrades, who had huddled together, wanting to give her room to vent. They had followed her diligently from the first time they met, even though they all knew she was less experienced and more delicate than the rest of them.
To her right was Gallows Carradine, a tall Baskar priest who was busy shoveling food into his mouth. Gallows had always been the least serious of the group, and had rarely lived up to his priestly title (albeit this was because for a good portion of his life he had denied his priesthood). However he was loyal, and did his best to keep the group in good spirits.
Across from her was Jet Enduro, the most impossible man Virginia had ever met. Although calling him a man was something she had to think about. He was technically not human. Created artificially, as a prototype to test a theory about Filgaia's life, could he be called human? Even if not, he was still hard to deal with. He was brash, cold, and introverted, not to mention a short-fuse.
To her left, was Clive Winslet. Clive was a family man, which made him an unusual Drifter. He had a beautiful wife and adorable little girl, who waited for him back in Humphrey's Peak, across the Dunes. However this did not slow him down at all, and when it came to contracts or negotiation, Clive was clearly the most experienced and professional. As a former archaeologist, he was also incredibly clever.
And there she sat, Virginia Maxwell. A silly little girl who had gotten them all into this mess. She couldn't even eat. She sat, cursing internally and fuming externally.
"So… where do we go now?" Virginia asked, trying to calm down.
Their options were limited. Lombardia, their dragon companion, had returned to her nest. Virginia had promised her that when their quest was over, she would never have to battle again. The dragon's nest was an area that was never visited by humans anymore, because of the rumors that the dragon there had been vanquished and all that remained were monsters.
They still had their Sandcraft, and they had modified it wonderfully, back when they were on good terms with the Arms Smith in Jolly Roger. Of course being a fugitive meant you were only welcome in a place like Little Twister. Of course even with the demise of the Balal Quo Naga by their hands, the Dunes were a dangerous place.
"Let's see. We're banned from the following locales: Gunner's Heaven, Claiborne, Jolly Roger, Ballack Rise, and Laxisland. We're welcome in Boot Hill, Humphrey's Peak and the Baskar Colony. And I grow sick of spending every waking minute in this seedy little town," Clive summed the situation up as squarely as he always did.
"We should head to Humphrey's Peak. It's a short distance across the dunes, and your wife and little girl are probably worried sick about you," Virginia suggested.
"Thank you," Clive nodded.
"My concern is how are we going to survive? Even with us being welcome in a few towns, nobody is going to hire infamous iconoclasts like us," Jet surmised.
"Well we still have quite a bit of funds. What's our bank like now, eh? 13,000 Gella? That'll last us a while," Gallows chimed in.
"Not if we have to continue staying at inns," Jet retorted.
"We should settle our own town," Virginia said, half-jokingly. "Let's just head to Humphrey's Peak for now, okay?"
Jet scoffed and leaned back in his chair, but nodded all the same. "Whatever."
--
The Sandcraft had remained undisturbed during their week in Little Twister. However being left to sit in the dunes instead of in the safety of Jolly Roger's dock had put some natural wear on the engines. Virginia had a little trouble starting the engines, but they finally kicked to life with the jump that Virginia felt she would never get used to.
Clive took his place at the harpoon, and Jet sat lazily next to the main gun. Gallows took his usual seat by the map and radar, just waiting to help out in case of an attack. Despite its small size, the interior of the Sandcraft was actually fairly roomy. It could seat eight and in the back there was a small living/dining/ bedroom combination that could house six. In the very back was a restroom.
They had long ago learned to stock plenty of supplies. One of their encounters with a dune creature had run them aground in the middle of nowhere and they went for three days without food or water while Clive and Jet made the necessary repairs. They had packed onboard a weeks worth of food and water; the nonperishable kind that they never ate unless they absolutely had to.
"So, you think this old girl will get us through the Dunes okay?" Gallows asked.
"We'll be fine," Clive said.
The Sandcraft roared off the coastline and plunged into the quicksand dunes that were once an ocean. The sound of sand grating against the hull, which almost sounded like nails scratching on a chalkboard, was an annoyance that they had learned to deal with.
The rising sun guided these criminals to their haunt.