Darkwind
Encyclopaedia Evanis

Groove Champion


Posted Apr 27, 2011, 10:25 pm
S345074

Ka 'r' Warr wondered at David 'Player' Hayter's perplexed expression as he walked into Mezcal's. He slowly made his way to Warr's table while clearly lost in thought.

"Hey there Hayter... what's up?"

He sat down, leaned back in his chair and exhaled longly.

"The darndest thing just happened..." he began "I... I don't even know how to describe it - I've never seen it happen before."

Ka's interest was piqued, she put down her glass and leaned over the table, interested at Hayter's elusive statement. She waited for him to continue.

"I was out hunting with the boys and we got the drop on one of those golden boys" he said "You know the ones... Always rolling around in fancy cars and shooting up the local hicks?"

Warr nodded eagerly "Get to the point!"

"Well... ah... they didn't truce" Hayter added, scratching his head.

"What do you mean 'they didn't truce'?" Warr asked "They always truce!"

"I know... They fought back! They even got us on the CB and yelled at us while we shot them. They said they'd knock us out in the wild some day."

"What?!" Warr bellowed, tipping over her drink and rising to her feet. She stood there for a moment.

"Come with me, Hayter. I don't know what's going on but I think I know where we can find out."

They both exited Mezcal's and made their way to the Champion HQ. Once there, David watched on as Warr dug feverishly through the storage room, dodging crutches, soccer balls, dead puppies and wrenches as Warr threw them out of her way.

"Ah!" Warr exclaimed, "Here it is"

She groaned as she pulled a massive book out of the junk heap. She blew the dust off the moldy cover and brought it over to a table. It dropped with a loud thud, making the wooden table creak under its weight.

"My grand pappy gave me this book when I was a teenager... I've only ever used it to flatten crumpled dollar bills between the pages" Warr said, flipping through the pages, "But when you flatten 500 million of them over the years, you can't help but notice some of the strange words inside. It keeps me busy when I'm not polishing off our 75 CC Buzzers." she added with a snear, still flipping through the pages.

Her index finally came down on one of the pages.

"I knew it was in here somewhere... I think this might be it!" she said triumphantly, "I'm so friggin' smart"

Hayter smiled sycophantically, rolling his eyes as she turned back to the encyclopedia.

Squinting and slowly moving her finger down the word, Warr read: "Veee... Vendi... hurm... Vendit? Ven...detta! Vendetta!" she smiled and continued to read.

Hayter, who was well aware of Warr's limited reading skills, snuck in closer and read the definition himself:

A long-running argument or fight between parties—often, through association fallacy, groups of people, especially families or clans. Feuds begin because one party (correctly or incorrectly) perceives itself to have been attacked, insulted or wronged by another. Intense feelings of resentment trigger the initial retribution, which causes the other party to feel equally aggrieved and vengeful. The dispute is subsequently fuelled by a long-running cycle of retaliatory violence. This continual cycle of provocation and retaliation makes it extremely difficult to end the feud peacefully. Feuds frequently involve the original parties' family members and/or associates, can last for generations and may result in extreme acts of violence.

"Ofteen tro ass... ass... assokeyeashun fa... falakee? um... Grups oav pepple, espek..."

Hayter interrupted Warr's reading: "Yep... that's what it is! Well I'll be... Never heard of it before"

Warr's expression darkened at the interruption but Hayter was quick to bounce back. He grinned:

"We looted a Flail!"

An association fallacy is an inductive informal fallacy of the type hasty generalization or red herring which asserts that qualities of one thing are inherently qualities of another, merely by an irrelevant association. The two types are sometimes referred to as guilt by association and honor by association. Association fallacies are a special case of red herring, and can be based on an appeal to emotion.
*Burden*


Posted Apr 27, 2011, 10:46 pm
Roy Arterburn, recently promoted from his great performance in a recent Deathrace, overheard this conversation.

"Vendetta is right." He said with a grin, all swagger. "Did you see how I turned your poor racer into swiss cheese? They had to friggin' scrape her body out with a shovel. The poor bastard was still alive, too."

He gave the pair a cowboy stare. "That was one. Now I just need to take down another one of you, and then another for the flail. An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind... unless you're a mutant gang!"

Roy laughed at his own joke, slapping his knee. :)
Groove Champion


Posted Apr 27, 2011, 11:02 pm
Hayter grabs a shovel and throws it through the window Roy is peeking through. He misses.

"I won't miss you in the wild..."
*Burden*


Posted Apr 28, 2011, 12:35 am
Later that day, David Rachel heard about the small exchange that went between the three people. He sat in his table at Mezcal's, elbow resting on the worn-down wooden table. Light streaked in through small slits in the aluminum playing of the roof, and motes of dust danced in the air.
On the other side of that table was Roy Arterburn.

"Listen, Roy." David said sternly. "The Groove Champions have done a terrible thing, and they deserve what the gang leader said was coming for them, but you can't go prancing around and shoving your face at them. Stick to your training so that you can fight them well when the time comes. Or else you'll get yourself killed."

Roy agrees reluctantly, but he has something to say. "I understand what you're saying but... See those Champions over there?" He points in their general direction. "Look at them. They're discussing setups to use on their brand new flail. Do you really think we should just sit around doing nothing until the time comes, while they laugh at us? I don't think so. We should be making them miserable."

"Yeah, but--"

"I'm gonna go talk to them right now." Roy stands up. "We'll discuss a place and time to have a little 'meetup'. Maybe I'll be able to bag another one."

He walks to their table with a purpose in his step.
Fealty Lost


Posted Apr 28, 2011, 5:01 pm
Patricia "Pile On" Dalton, defacto default reluctant semi-new Leader of the SlaughterHouse crew, stood in front of the 40-odd members of her flock stuffed into Mezcals to honor the latest dead bastards.

She raised a mug. To "Spanners" and "Pollock," we're gonna miss ya. Everyone drank.

"And to those other two **BAD WORD! STOP BEING NAUGHTY** new guys. Screw 'em. They should have known better." She grinned.

Mugs went up again.

"Anyone see "Spanners" go?" asked Steve "Thud Thud" Hutchinson. "Man, that's the way I want to go out."

"I missed it man, we was too busy trying not to get our ass shot off. We couldn't see **BAD WORD! STOP BEING NAUGHTY!** through the smoke! What happened?"

Hutchinson looked across the tables to the questioner, Bill "Whodamanez" Fernandez, propped against the wall, crutches supporting him.

"Dude. It was epic! He got his ride shot out from under him, you know, "Pollock" took one right in the brain-pan next to him and the 'Runner rolls a couple times then slides to a stop right there in front of about 10 of those 3rd Avenue pricks!"

Everyone around leaned in to listen.

"Anyway, he kicks open what's left of the door, grabs his carbine and comes out blazing! Scared the hell out of them bastards! Then he takes off running backwards, carbine spittin' lead! I was escorting the Ammo Can outa that mess, looked back in time to see him crouch, rifle in his shoulder, bangin'!"

"And?" asked one of the newbs, Bonnie Manning. This was the stuff all of them lived for. Knowing your death was something that'll be talked about long after you're gone.

"I'm gettin' to it noob, cool your jets." he said, smiling. "So, anyways," he started, then stopped, hearing a chair scrape noisely on the rough-board floor.

Everyone looked over to see who was interrupting "Thud Thud's" story.

Some couple of mamsy-pansy looking jocks. One of them was standing up like he was going to start something. The other stopped him with a hand. Didn't make any sense to any of the SlaughterHouse crew.

They watched and waited. Obviously the guys they were pissed at were sitting just across the way at another table. And all it took to discourage them from settling things was; a hand?

"**BAD WORDS! STOP BEING NAUGHTY!**" Hutchinson said, shaking his head. Just another of those 2-crew out and back posers.

"Anyway," he continued, and the SlaughterHouse crew forgot about the wasteland-wannabes and settled in for a good story, each hoping someday that one of the SlaughterHouse vets would be telling one just like this for them.

Edited by Rev. V! because someone has a pottymouth....

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