“As Brendon and I continued down the maintenance path to the mysterious forge, it gradually came into view. It was a moderately sized train repair house. It was maintained far better than the nearby warehouses and train depots, however it was still in disrepair. Brendon looked at me. I could see the doubt in his orange, glowing eyes. As we got closer, I saw a sign reading “Fire and Flames Forge.” It was a steel sign, which seemed to glow like an ember in the darkening sky. It seemed well made, like an expert craftsman had spent hours on it.
I walked up and knocked on the massive metal door. A deep voice came through a speaker above it. It asked who we were and what we wanted. We introduced ourselves, and Brendon said we searching for a place to spend the night and for transportation to Texas. The voice responded, ‘I am the Forger, and you are in luck.’
The sound of metal on metal and a hiss of air split the silence of the night as the metal door swung open. We stepped inside the poorly lit depot. The Forger was nowhere in sight. With weapons raised, we swept the room. Piles of scrap metal and tools filled to room. Two all-terrain vehicles hung from the ceiling. A fire raged in a furnace across the room.
The Forger called out, his voice echoing around the room so that I couldn’t pinpoint the source. He said, ‘Drop your weapons. I will not be coerced into helping you.’
We lowered our weapons and the Forger arose from the shadows.
‘So, how may I help you?’ he inquired.
I asked how much an ATV would cost. He asked what we had to give. Brendon and I gave him our backpacks to search through. He looked through them and took out the water filter.
‘I require this...
... and 200 dollars,’ he said.
Brendon sighed. ‘Fifty is the best we can do. That water filter wasn’t cheap.”
I dug out my wallet and held out the cash. The Forger snatched it, then retreated into the shadows. A few seconds later, one of the ATV’s dropped from the ceiling.
‘And you can sleep outside,’ the Forger added.”
(And by the way, the forger is BMatt, who will make his own wasteland comic some day.)
I walked up and knocked on the massive metal door. A deep voice came through a speaker above it. It asked who we were and what we wanted. We introduced ourselves, and Brendon said we searching for a place to spend the night and for transportation to Texas. The voice responded, ‘I am the Forger, and you are in luck.’
The sound of metal on metal and a hiss of air split the silence of the night as the metal door swung open. We stepped inside the poorly lit depot. The Forger was nowhere in sight. With weapons raised, we swept the room. Piles of scrap metal and tools filled to room. Two all-terrain vehicles hung from the ceiling. A fire raged in a furnace across the room.
The Forger called out, his voice echoing around the room so that I couldn’t pinpoint the source. He said, ‘Drop your weapons. I will not be coerced into helping you.’
We lowered our weapons and the Forger arose from the shadows.
‘So, how may I help you?’ he inquired.
I asked how much an ATV would cost. He asked what we had to give. Brendon and I gave him our backpacks to search through. He looked through them and took out the water filter.
‘I require this...
... and 200 dollars,’ he said.
Brendon sighed. ‘Fifty is the best we can do. That water filter wasn’t cheap.”
I dug out my wallet and held out the cash. The Forger snatched it, then retreated into the shadows. A few seconds later, one of the ATV’s dropped from the ceiling.
‘And you can sleep outside,’ the Forger added.”
(And by the way, the forger is BMatt, who will make his own wasteland comic some day.)