Thread: A Tale Of The Wastes (Celebstars x DeRe)

The sun hung high in the egg-blue sky, a burning disc of gold bleaching the yellow desert beneath. Little more than jagged, man-sized rocks and clumps of cacti dotted the hostile landscape. In this particular patch of the waste, two figures broke up the emptiness. One was a man bound naked and spreadeagled on the burning rock, scorched red by the relentless sun. The other stood over him, a hulking bulky figure clad entirely in black leather despite the heat. His face was hidden behind a mask, his piggish bright eyes the only thing visible. When he spoke, his already sepulchral voice was amplified by a crude vocoder, making him sound even more feral. Did you think, Svensen, you would get away with this? the masked figure asked in a cool but cruel growl. For months now you have been reporting on my activities to the Rangers, broadcasting from your wretched little shack. He gestured to a building a little way off, now totally enveloped in roaring flames. A column of thick black smoke rose high and slow above it, dodged deftly by vultures beginning to circle over the bound body. After all I did for you, the masked figure continued. I brought you supplies and even some nice things I took from the people on the borderlands. And yet, you repay my generosity with betrayal. He sighed, but it sounded more like the guttural hiss of a snake. Through cracked and bloody lips Svensen rasped out a few words. I b-beg you...B-Beast, please...please, kill me now...don't leave me like this...I'm begging you... The black figure, known throughout the Wastes as Beast, stared down dispassionately at the writhing figure. It is the most terrible shame you had no womenfolk, Svensen. I would have greatly enjoyed taking them to the men in the hills. The mainstay of Beast's trade was capturing healthy young women and selling them to the feral mutants who scratched out a living in the caves and mountains that overlooked the desert. There, these unfortunate girls would have their eyes and feet removed, enslaved for the rest of their short brutal lives as breeders to the mutants. Unable to sustain themselves from their own poisoned genes, these slaves provided a new generation that they could not. In return, they provided Beast with numerous items and relics from before the Great Collapse, including useful weapons and equipment he now employed on his hunts. Looking over thoughtfully at the burning remains of Svensen's shack, Beast considered his next moves. The wretched man had revealed - after Beast took most of the skin off his face - that he had tipped the Rangers off to the slaver's movements only yesterday, and they would have someone here in just a few days. Beast reflected carefully that this could work in his favour. He would leave a trail leading into the Broken Hills, an area swarming with a breed of mutants called Ghouls. Rumour had it they ate their victims, and Beast knew this rumour to be true - a careless pack of them had once tried to add him to their menu, but after he had dispatched a dozen or so with his repeater rifle they henceforth avoided him. Nonetheless he knew they would give any potential pursuer a hard time, and allow him to arrange a perfect ambush. Beast contemplated the idea of taking a Ranger alive. There was no relic or treasure the mutants could give him that would be worth such a trophy. It would send terror among the sheep who cowered in their fortified towns on the edges of the Waste, and boost his prestige immensely. It was dangerous prey, but he was not adverse to such a challenge - in fact, he felt his foot-long cock begin to swell in excitement at the thought. Leaving the agonized Svensen to his futile screams, Beast walked back to his wagon - an armoured steel box long ago an RV drawn by four tough, violent mountain ponies he had tamed in the local hills. With a satisfied glance over his afternoon's work, Beast mounted up and rode away, heading into the black rocks of the Broken Hills.