Utterly Mad

"You're right, I am. So what's been going on since I've been... lost." He bubbles shyly as he shifted his goo.

Seb looked down at the young lad, eyebrows raised and a quizzical look across his features.  Skyler hadn't said anything about taking on an apprentice.  The wolf mutant's eyes darted over to the door leading out back as he scratched the underside of his muzzle and let out a reluctant sigh, not having the time to wait much longer.  Hopefully this kid was a quick study.  He looked directly back at the assistant.

"I'm Sebastian of Deliverance Company.  Skyler and I have a...special arrangement.  He may not have mentioned it to you yet."

He nudged the empty satchel across the counter with a claw, continuing with a deliberate tone. 

"What you're looking for is an herb with thin, long, leaves tapering to a point.  Dark red in color with a greyish underside.  They'll smell like turpentine, so don't breathe deep or you'll be out for a week or more."  His tone lightened, a hint of amusement crept in.  "Sky has probably put some already dried and prepared under a 'nice' label representing me."

[[I noticed that having to misspell cusses is affecting the rest of my typing. But don't worry, I'm hear right now.]]

The Morals of Scrambled Eggs



Drake: The eggs tasted great, they had a slight smokey tang to them with a hint of gaminess that gave it a real punch. But when Amy walked into the room, grabbing a plate and chowing down all you could think was the following: "Jeesus Christ! You're technically eating her own children... or period? You don't whats worse. Maybe are the mutant eggs from a non-sapient breed of mutant bird. What if its toxic or what if you're allergic, OH GOD! WHAT WILL SHE THINK OF YOU NOW! AHHHHH-*this continues on for a long while*"

But alas you show no emotion, congrats, you are now Birdie Hitler. Bask in your new title.

Amy: The bacon was perhaps the baconiest bacon, you've ever ba- you mean tasted. It was pretty good up until you see Drake eating what could be unhatched bird-people eggs. He's not even batting an eye, either they're pretty damn tasty, or he has an agenda against your people.

Dankest Kush



The small boy, wide-eyed, and mouth agape decides to ask why you'd need such a herb as he heads towards the counter, "Blood Weed? I think that's what its called, I heard its pretty strong. You have some terminal condition or something?" He leans down and pulls out two pill bottle-sized vials all with dried, crushed, and a pretty strong odor. On the label is a wolf, that vaguely resembles the tall, handsome, thick-furred, commander only known as Seb.

"Well here it is, all ready for consumption or what it is that you do with it. My master said it was, "On the house." So don't worry about payment."

Amy looks at Drake for a moment, wondering what the fück is wrong with him, then goes back to bacon.   Because bacon is the best.    "This is actually kinda good.   Could do with a bit more salt though."

[[Sorry for the lack of updates, been writing lore, getting the main quest plotted, but rest assured, no matter how delayed or "dead" it may seem. I'm not going to write any other thing until The Highway actually gets an ending.]]

Lets get on with it!

Seb: You head back into camp, as you enter into the base you're stopped a fellow soldier. "Hey, you're taking out those remnant fucks right? Boss told me to give you this permit, it'll let you leave the town without any hassle from the guards. On the back of the permit are your orders after you've dealt with the situation." As quickly as and plot conveniencey came, he just as quickly left to continue being irrelevant to the plot your life.

Seb committed the new orders to memory, then stowed the permit away in one of his pockets.  Striding across the yard, he caught sight of a portion of the group under his 'command' having a bite to eat.  Glossing over the fact that none of the weapons requisitioned last night had been loaded into the RV yet, he took a seat at the group's table, propping his muzzle up on one paw. 

"We've new orders, you lot." he announced in his resonant, growling tone, and waited to make sure those present were paying attention, looking directly at the joker in the gas mask who smelled of old cheese in particular. 

Zaweri sighs as he finishes his breakfast. He hops into the RV, as he examines if the XM8 operates correctly.