Roland walked across the wasteland that seemed to stretch on for eternity, broken only by a collapsed atmospheric tower, standing behind him at a crooked angle with bits of it lying here and there. There was no one inside, not even a single Slave. Perhaps its inhabitants had all inherited the souls of their makers and moved on. It didn't matter, the place was empty and only good for scrap metal now. Roland knew some who would've been thrilled to take over the place, but this was bad country. Bandits were marauding across the wasteland, spoiling for fights, and they didn't even bother to hold onto the towers they had claimed. This particular gang only seemed to be interested in the wildness of violence. Perhaps they found some kind of purpose in it, but that didn't change nor excuse any of what of what they had gone and done. Someone had to be held accountable, maybe the whole lot of them, and Roland was going to be the one to bring them to heel.

Wandering across the wasteland, Lilac stared at the sky, caught in a slight trance. To her eyes, such a sky was beautiful in its superficial form. She did not need to force herself to look past what she could already see.

I wonder if the creators used to look at the sky, too. Maybe my creator enjoyed the view like I do, Lilac thought for the umpteenth time. Those were things that she always wondered about.

As she took in the beautiful sky, Lilac hardly noticed when her tattered clothing had started to slip from her shoulders. The drapes she used to cover her arms were become more and more flimsy every day; the strings of fabric had started to fray years ago, if not decades ago. With her clumsy hands, she pulled the drapes back up and tugged at a few lose fibers, trying to tighten them as much as possible. The fibers are not the only ones fraying...

Suddenly, Lilac froze in her tracks, staring ahead of her. Her optic power cores activated, and her headset and eyes began to glow a faint blue. She was alarmed by a noise she heard in the distance and was now trying to see where it came from, but it was no use. Paranoid... That is what they call it, I think...

Lilac shook her head and deactivated the power cores, returning her vision to its previous state. With an inaudible sigh, she began to walk forward again, but, like always, she should have heeded her own paranoia.

Something grabbed her, restrained her arms, and managed to throw her onto the ground. "A Bandit," she said calmly, peering up the robot with an almost calculating glare. He appeared to be a rookie -- a robot clumsier than her that talked too much. He already gave away the plan to take away her eyes and headset, though Lilac already knew that that was exactly what all the Bandits were after. And, like always, she would figure out a way to escape. Eventually.

The Bandit talked on for a while, making an obvious attempt to sound all intimidating and fearsome like. "You're coming with me," Roland heard him say before stepping around a large chunk of tower, conveniently suited for hiding waylayers.

Roland saw the Bandit first and immediately took him to be a young'un; probably no more than a few decades old in the soul. Judging by his demeanour, he might have thought that he was a real menace when he was actually just a runt, and simply all talk. He might have already known that, still wearing the rust of his Slave days, but what Bandit novitiate would admit to that? Given enough time, he could very well become a big shot amongst his peers, but it wasn't worth spit to Roland. Kick his arse now and humble him before he gets worse, that was the only course of action for the kid.

Then Roland saw the other one; the waylaid, the victim, though she didn't seem particularly alarmed. Maybe another young'un, but she had an air of apathy to her, the kind that comes from experience and says 'yeah, yeah, I've been through this before'. There were some like that, growing old in the soul faster than anyone should, and not knowing the luxury of complacency much. At that, Roland could recognize a kinship with, for he was the same way once. Well it was time to help.

"What're you doing there, son?" Roland said as he approached.

The Bandit looked back with an insolent swagger, spouting all manner of cusses until he petered out, slowly paling into horror as realization began to dawn on him. "Oh shit, you're that guy!" he cried out. An antenna raised from his back and pinged a signal before Roland could draw steel and lop it off. The Bandit wailed as he cowered in fear. "Shit man, I repent!" he said, desperate for clemency. "Please, just let me go, I won't make a fuss."

Roland gave him a hard eye and snarled, "Get gone and get lost, or I'll cut you up some more you damned punk. And you'd best tell your friends to wise up before I get to them first, cause I ain't tolerating this kind of crap, you hear me?"

The Bandit fled and Roland turned to the accosted. She was still sitting on the dirt, observing with calm detachment. "So what's your sign?" Roland asked as he sheathed his weapon.

Lilac was almost surprised when a mysterious robot began to scold the young bandit, sending the little one into a panic. It may have been the first time she was ever assisted during a bandit attack, and it was definitely the first time she ever met a celebrity among bandits. There were stories about a centuries-old machine that roamed the land, punishing bandits as he pleased and such. They were mere stories, and Lilac never put much stock in them, but it seemed as though some of the story was now a reality.

Observing the scene unfold with the eyes of a spectator, Lilac listened to the robot's speech -- it was different from her own cold, methodical voice. Warmer. Friendly. Gruff and a bit crude, yes, but more natural. In her own way, Lilac felt a tinge of envy.

"My sign...?" she mumbled questioningly, trying to stand up as best as she could. The fall had knocked some mechanisms out of place, and she could have sworn that a few pieces fell from her pant leg. Her entire frame was shaky -- putting too much strain on her arms to get herself upright had made her hands tremble, and one of her legs was slightly lame. "I do not know what you are talking about... But, thank you for helping me. I would rather not be dismantled by those hooligans." Lilac stared up at the robot, twitching occasionally as her efforts to remain standing dwindled.

"I figured you wouldn't," Roland replied sardonically. He looked the young'un up and down, seeing her shiver from head to toe. It looked like even her wiring was getting the shakes. She looks like she could break in the wind, he thought with amazement. What kind of maker would design a thing to be so fragile? Or was it the ravages of age? All bodies were far older than the souls they inherited. Perhaps this one had it particularly rough wherever she came from. However, what was even more likely was her having the misfortune of encountering more than a few Bandits in the past. You didn't get away from folks like that without a scratch. Either way, she was raggedy as all heck.

"Now, I was asking after yer name," Roland explained not unkindly. "But I suppose I can give mine first. I'm Roland." He was about to extend a hand in greeting, but thought better of it after seeing the other Inheritor's arm twitching like a leaf; so he gave a short wave instead in a 'howdy-do, nice to meet you' kind of way. "Now how's about you, or do you not have a name? Trust me, you wouldn't be the first."

"Ah, my name...," she murmured. It had been so many decades since she had said her name; she hoped to even remember it. From what she remembered, her maker had given her a name but had never used it. So pitiful... that it is even difficult for me to remember.

"My name is... Lilac," she said, surprisingly herself quite a lot. The name rolled off her tongue, as if said a thousand times. The robot cracked a very tiny, almost nonexistent smile, and then stretched her hand out in greeting. If she was going to meet the first civil Inheritor, then she was going to do this correctly even if her arm wouldn't be able to move afterwards. "It is nice to meet you, Roland. It is not everyday that I have the pleasure of running into an affable Inheritor. My luck tends to get me into situations like the one you so kindly interrupted."

Roland returned the greeting with no small amount of surprise. She might seem meek all over, but her soul's a different story, he realized with increasing admiration. To make the effort of observing normal pleasantries despite being in no shape for it demanded some respect. Roland took care not to shake her hand too roughly then replied, "I think that's the first time I've ever been called 'affable'... first time I've heard anyone say the word too for that matter."

Roland knelt on the ground to pick up the antenna he had lopped off the Bandit's back and weighed it thoughtfully in his hand as he examined it. The material was so dull that it swallowed light rather than reflecting it. "Your luck might not have improved much I'm afraid," he said to Lilac. "I'm hunting this gang of Bandits you see, and if they didn't know I was onto them before, they'll know about it now. There's gonna be trouble." He stood up and looked the fellow Inheritor over again. Raggedy as all heck. "Not meaning any offence, but you look like you really need to get fixed up. Tell me something, have you ever been to a Haven before?"

He was surprised, no doubt -- such a flimsy robot, one that could fall apart any second, could still find the little things in life enjoyable enough to make some sort of effort. Just their light handshake clearly put her in a much better mood; she was enjoying the company of another robot, which was not a daily occurrence.

"There is a first for everything," she stated with a matter-of-fact tone. "You may act tough, but that never stops one from being pleasant."

Lilac watched as he picked up the antenna from the Bandit's back. It was built well, much better than her own parts, but lacked any kind of luster. For a moment, she thought about using it to repair the cracked metal of her leg, but managed to shake the thought from her head. To use a part of him as scrap for me is similar to how they want to use parts of me as scrap for them, she reasoned.

"My luck was at zero before. If not at zero, then in the negatives." She looked up to Roland when he stood, tilting her head to the side. "A Haven? I have heard of them. However, Bandits constantly come after me, and my first round with them killed my navigation system for good."

Missy, you just threw me a hard wrench here, Roland thought as he pondered on what to do. The nearest Haven was many horizons away and this here Lilac would certainly never find it on her own. Getting her there as quickly and safely as possible would have been the noble thing to do, but it also meant putting the hunt for the Bandits on hold long enough for the trail to go cold. Weeks of tracking work would go up in the air just like that. Help her and she'd be fine, but then how many more Inheritors were likely to wind up in the same sort of troubles with those Bandits left unchecked? This was, as the saying went, the horns of a dilemma... and then Roland looked back at the collapsed atmospheric tower.

"Well I don't know if you haven't noticed, but this is Bandit country," he said. "Hell of a bad place to wander into, but then again it's why I'm here. C'mon, let's go on over to that tower. Might be we can find a few things to fix you up."

And then what? Roland began to wonder. Abandon the hunt and bring her safe to Haven, or send her off on her own and return to the business at hand? Or maybe bring her along as an extra set of eyes? No, she'd only get in the way... Ah, still on the horns of a dilemma. Roland mulled it over as he went to the tower.

Tilting her head the other way, Lilac stared at Roland as he pondered something. Meeting a random Inheritor was something that he probably did not plan for, and she couldn't blame him. This was indeed Bandit country -- the worst place for any robot to be, especially one as worn out as Lilac. There was no way in the world she would survive in the state she was in, her body ready to kick the bucket at any time.

She knew that. She knew it well. There are only so many times she can repair herself.

"Of course... a tower..." she mumbled, following Roland's lead. Compared to her, he was a god of all robots. The poor wreck couldn't help but ogle at how well he was built: the shiny plating that covered him, the way his joints moved unhindered. These were things that she never had as a Slave; forget about keeping herself together in this Bandit country. She was never pieced together in the first place.

"I can probably repair myself," she told the other Inheritor after a little while. "I have done it before. That way, you can continue hunting the Bandits." Inconveniencing him was the last thing on her wishlist. If he really needed to keep going, to keep hunting those pieces of Bandit scum, then she wouldn't mind being alone again. Decades without any contact had left her stolid; she didn't crave companionship, nor did she think that a companion would just waltz over to a wreck. "I have done it before," Lilac tried to explain, attempting to rationalize her suggestion.

"I ain't doubting you, miss," Roland replied as he stepped up to the entrance of the tower. "But I don't think I can leave you alone in a place like this just yet. One Bandit usually means there's more near-abouts, you see."

Like the rest of the tower, the door was angled at a slant and part of the base was visible above ground. Roland had to duck under before entering, and it was a fortunate thing that the door was already open since the access control panel was buried in the ground, along with the bottom right corner of the entrance. Inside it was the same as any other tower, except standing was a tricky business, and all around there was a kind of empty eeriness. This place is dead in every sense of the word, Roland thought.

"Let's have a poke around," he said as he moved forward, taking care to avoid slipping on the crooked metal floor.

"Who are we?" She posed the question with a serious stare that seemed to fall upon every set of eyes that dawned her form. "We are what we make of ourselves... we are what we want to be!" Scrap's body paced slowly as those that listened to her began to applaud her statements. "No!" Slicing her hand through the air she silenced those sitting below her. "That is no accomplishment, that is our right. No, the real question we need to ask ourselves is 'What is our purpose?'" The silence continued to ring amongst the steep canyon walls.

Her eyes blinked, making a sound much like a camera snapping a picture. "Exactly, we have none! Absolutely no purpose on this earth other than to stay alive and stay free!" With every word she spoke, a humming sound grew louder inside her and the frayed ends of her chords began to spark - proof that her systems were floored. "We have no laws, no limitations - we are living inside an everlasting apocalypse!" Raising her hands into the sky, all the bodies around her of varying shapes, sizes and color began to holler into the sky. "Take this wasteland and make it yours! Go! Free those from slavery and dismember those who stand against us!"

And with that the group of a mere dozen or so ran off - heading for the open wastelands for another night of reaping and pillaging. Scrap lingered - only long enough to gather her thoughts before following her bandit gang into the unexpected battleground. This was a regular occurrence, for everyone to venture out in search of supplies and such - but there was a lust for destruction in the air, one she was particularly excited with.

Jonas eyed the scene with elderly amusement. Like watching kids in Haven at play, he thought. This brought forth some memories and a sweet nostalgia for days far gone. Perhaps in time, Jonas reflected, this moment might entice the same sort of feelings and become something to reminisce over. It was noteworthy, that was for darn certain. He had wandered into the canyon only a day ago and before then, he had heard tell of this Bandit going about, working up her gang with fiery speeches and marauding across places, even attacking Havens sometimes. Here is an individual whose star is on the rise, Jonas had thought and, after that scene, he guessed that he reckoned rightly so.

"Hile to thee, Bandit queen," Jonas drawled with easy nonchalance as the gang leader passed by. "Those were some fine words you said, I commend ye for it. Tell me something, what's yer name?"

Finding herself stopped in her tracks, Scrap looked back over her shoulder toward the voice that addressed her. A new face it seemed, at least one she hadn't recalled seeing before. But by appearances, he couldn't have been a new face amongst the wastelands. "Queen of the bandits, you say?" A light, sarcastic laughter left her lips as she looked amongst the scattering shadows she had just set free. "My kingdom is this stretch of decaying earth, and my subjects a rally of hapless junkyard remnants?" The terminology didn't sit well with her, but it was understood that most saw her in such a light.

Scrap's red eyes met with his, giving him another few moments of silent evaluation. He looked much like he would be able to withstand impact from a falling comet. "You may call me Scrap, for all I really am is that." As she spoke, she began to peel an inch of rusting paint off her forearm, grinding it to dust and letting it fall toward the ground. "What is it that you seek?"

"Oh, I seek nothing," Jonas replied with a surrendering gesture. "Just curious is all. Old timer like me, I tend to take note of anything new and curious, and my are you curious."

He looked this here Scrap up and down, taking notice of every fleck of rust and every patch of foreign parts. Jonas didn't need to use his sensors to see that she was a bit raggedy, but then again, so was everyone else. All in all, she seemed like just another Inheritor, asides from the fact that she had the face of a maker, and that always marked a special individual. After a quick scan, Jonas concluded that what was most special about her had to be her soul, because she didn't seem formidable in any other way.

"You don't look like much," the old Bandit confessed bluntly. "And I'm guessing you're a bit young in the soul, but you've already caused quite a stir. Play things right and you might go a long way, I reckon."

As if on cue, someone came hurtling into the canyon and calling out, "Boss! Boss! We got trouble boss!" When he got close enough, Jonas could tell straight away that the newcomer was a young'un. Still green as grass and young in the soul. He stopped in front of Scrap and immediately launched into his story, rushing it all the way and ending it with, "It's that Roland guy, he's on to us!"

"Well I take back what I said!" Jonas exclaimed. "Your days might be done already if you got Roland huntin' for ya."

Her frame relaxed as he went on, receiving him as neither friend or foe - but as someone who was no immediate threat. At least not yet.

It was a statement she could agree with, she really wasn't much to look at and her squeaky joints only proved that point. She took no offense - mainly pride in reassured confidence that she would not just waste away. Scrap was about to remark back, but a sudden interruption drew her attention away from the conversation at hand.

"Roland." Her optics widened as she stood firmly against the ground - frozen in time. Scrap had no expected to run across Roland out here, she made an effort to avoid his travels. She was no coward, but she wasn't an idiot either - and running into battle against one of the most well known do good Inheritors in this wasteland was certainly stupid.

But if her wildly crew had unfortunately crossed paths with him - there was no sense in retreating, at least not yet. First, she wanted to see this Roland and what he was capable of. "Go! Overwhelm him with numbers!" Essentially, she understood that this order would sacrifice numbers, but this was information that needed to be obtained.

Scrap looked toward the hard shelled man and nodded for him to follow her up the side of the canyon cliffs. She didn't plan on going in head on, but linger in the shadows first - to understand if this would indeed be a suicide mission. "You know this Roland... do we stand a chance against him?"

He couldn’t leave her alone in a place like this?

Lilac had never seen such compassion come from another Inheritor, or even another robot in general. She was merely scrap metal – something that he could easily overpower, dismantle, and use for his own benefit as many others have attempted to do.

For a few moments, she didn’t know what to say. It took a little while, but Lilac managed to whisper a very short “Thank you” to show her appreciation.

Silently, she followed Roland into the atmospheric tower, trying to avoid any loose pieces of scrap and other metals by activating her headset. Any slight movement or shift of loose flooring would now be registered.

“Ah.. watch out, Roland. Do not step on the flooring three feet in front of you. It is very loose,” she warned the robot. If he stepped on that plate, he would be set flying onto his behind.

"Well shoot, so it is," Roland exclaimed as he stepped carefully over the loose plate. He gathered that Lilac must have been a fault finder in her Slave days, or at least a watcher, but he didn't inquire about it. Every tower had at least one of those keen eyed folks, and a lot more others that were suited to the heavy work. Although Roland was capable of seeing in every direction at once if he wanted to, it was an ability gained through much modification and experimentation on his own sensors. He had long forgotten his original purpose, but he doubted that it was anything particularly valuable.

"I think I'll go see if I can find any tools," Roland said as he went to a housing unit with a nearby elevator leading to the upper levels of the tower. Even if the elevator didn't work, the housing unit was sure to contain a lot of equipment. "If there's any parts that catch your eye, you just holler, but I reckon we only need to do some wire work for now."

Upon reaching the storage room, Roland found that the door was closed, but the access panel had already been dismantled; most likely by the hands of some Bandit eager to gain entry. Probably didn't know what he was doing, Roland mused as he set to work getting the door open. He knew what to do, but the innards of the access panel was a mess. It was either a professionally deliberate effort to keep the door closed or simple sheer incompetence, and Roland was willing to bet on the latter.

"Know him? Hell, Miss Scrap, I've traded blows with him," Jonas replied as he walked alongside the Bandit. "Aye, I know him, and I'll have you understand my full meaning when I say that he's of a higher calibre than you're able to handle right now." He curled up a fist and looked upon it, recalling some intense memory. The artificial muscle fibres in his arm creaked as they flexed, remembering what it was like to go at full strength.

"Y'see, what you've got here is one implacable adversary, with an adamantium will and a pair of blades made from the same stuff. He ain't the strongest, and I know I'm stronger than him by far, but the fella's devilishly quick and impossible to sneak up on, on account of his being able to look in all directions at once. It's his sensors, y'see. That wily ol' devil's been huntin' Bandits for as long as I've been one, so believe you me, I know of what I speak. You and yours simply wouldn't have a chance against him... but I reckon I might."

For a moment, Jonas vividly recalled the long lost excitement of his bad old days, back when there were formidable folks aplenty and he was the most vicious, vile, fearsome and ornery cuss in all of Gilead. By the makers the memory was sweet! And here was a chance to relive those times with an old enemy, a fellow remnant of that wild age. It was too good to pass up.

"Tell you what missy," Jonas said, allowing himself to slip into his old braggart ways. "I'll join ya in watch and if yer gang manages to so much as put a scratch on Roland the Bandit Hunter, then it might be that I've highly overestimated him. You can handle him yourself then if that's the way it turns out."

A higher caliber than I'm able to handle right now, I see. As she continued to creep up the rocky and slightly unstable nature made staircase that would give her a view over the battleground she suddenly realized she may loose more casualties than she had previously imagined.

Scrap wasn't one to ask for help, let alone beg for it. But something told me, if a spark set off inside her new found acquaintance he might end up jumping in as well - and maybe then, at least she could get off with her circuits intact. "My crew aren't trained... they are nothing more than a wild pack of metal wolves. But I want to see how he fights."

Her eyes peered down over the scene, soon she realized he was descending one of the abandoned towers. Upon closer magnification, she could catch glimpses of not only Roland through the breaks in the structure but another body as well. One with a very humanoid face, even more so than her own. This caught her attention right away.

And suddenly, calm calculation fled her mind, her finger pressing firmly on the device implanted in her ear. "Flood the tower! Forget Roland, get the girl!" Her orders made it to the rowdy gang down below, and without a moments hesitation they were invading the tower after them.

Would Roland protect her? Why was this girl with a lone wanderer like Roland? Was she special? Either way... where was she from and would she have the answers that Scrap was looking for?

While Roland looked around the tower, Lilac knelt down and began to inspect the damage. It seemed as though her last encounter with the bandit had shifted several wires and pulled them from a few sockets. Very carefully, Lilac fiddled with her wiring, twitching as her receptors were meddled with. Though it was uncomfortable, it was a quick fix, but not a permanent one. Soon enough, she would be falling apart again. The day would come when she would not be able to move anymore.

"Roland," she called out, turning to face him. For now, her circuitry was strong enough to last a trip to a Haven, or elsewhere. "It should be okay for a little while longer. If we do not encounter anymore --"

The sudden, ear-shattering buzzing of her headset forced Lilac to pause. Her eyes widened, and she shot up from her kneeling position. She knew what this meant.

"They are coming!" All she heard was "overwhelm him with numbers!" but it was a good enough reason for her to get the hell out of there. Of course, if she had been paying closer attention, maybe she could have gotten them out of there before an unbelievable number of bandits suddenly stormed the tower.

Stumbling backwards, Lilac managed to make her way to the older Inheritor's side, her power cores running at full blast to make sure that she could see and hear the faintest of the Bandit's movements.

There was no way to get out of this one now. Roland was the only one who could fight. The tiny, broken humanoid would never be able to fend for herself.

Jonas and Scrap have rustled from Big Canyon and out into the Arid Wasteland. Time to mosey on over there.

(OH HERE WE GO, FIGHT MUSIC!)

Roland turned away from the door and saw the gang of bandits dashing to the tower, eager for violence. "Well here they come," he said as he drew steel, then said to Lilac, "You stay well away from the entrance, y'hear? This could get a bit wild."

As expected as the gang's arrival was, it was still an unwelcome occurrence. Roland knew full well that they were here because of him, and now Lilac was going to get drawn into matters that she should not have to be involved with at all. Well it couldn't be helped any more and Roland was in the mood to mete out some punishment. Here were the bandits he had been hunting for and now they provided the convenience of coming to him by their own accord. It was almost considerate of them.

Roland stood still for a moment as he activated his augmented sensors, seeing in all directions at once. The energy core visible through his chest glowed a little brighter with the extra use of power, and then dimmed as Roland determined that no one was sneaking up, behind or from the sides. This was a full frontal assault, the damned fools. They would soon understand why it would have been a better idea to run in the other direction instead... but where was their leader? Roland tried to pick out an authority figure as he made his stand by the entrance of the tower, ready to face down the oncoming assault.

~~~

"Girl? Aw hell naw, Roland, ain't you too old for that?" Jonas said as he stood by Scrap's side, watching the scene unfold. It was certainly an entertaining sight to see the old bandit hunter moving as quick as ever, chopping off limbs and ducking under swinging fists. Jonas remembered having difficulty keeping up with such speed, even though he was no slouch himself. Some of the more resourceful bandits had brought laser cutters and drills, but it didn't help them any as Roland rushed through them in a yellow and hazy blue blur.

A holographic emblem of Gilead surrounded by a ring of blades was shining out of his back with radiant splendour, burning a memory, and the fear it would forever invoke, into the souls of the bandits that trusted too much in the superiority of numbers. To Jonas however, it was a sight for sore eyes, like a dear old friend not seen for a long time.

"Well so much for getting the girl, they can't even get past the door," Jonas said conversationally to the gang leader... and then one bandit did manage to rush past Roland, through into the tower and onwards to corner the other inheritor with the face of a maker, trembling so badly that she looked ready to fall apart. "Oop, guess I spoke too soon," Jonas admitted.

Slowly stepping away from the entrance, Lilac tried to keep her eyes on all the Bandits, her eyes darting back and forth as her power cores overwhelmed themselves with work. The Bandits seemed to be having a hard time getting through Roland. He was obviously more skilled than those simpletons. He knew what he was doing.

And what could Lilac do? Nothing. Just stand there and try not to get caught in the crossfire. The only thing she could do at this point was dodge and jump, assuming that her springs would hold for that long.

The poor girl's eyes widened when a Bandit started to come her way. Somehow, he slipped past the other Inheritor and was now coming straight for Lilac.

Maybe they'll hold... she wondered for a split second, her computerized mind analyzing the scene as quickly as possible. There was only one way out of this, and it was to leap onto the higher floors of the tower. There was a hole in the wall about three floor up. Though it was a stretch, Lilac estimated that she could get up there with some effort.

Bending her knees, Lilac watched as the Bandit rushed towards her with no sign of stopping. She took a little leap of faith and hopped up, knees to her chest. Strands of hair flew all over her grimacing face -- the jump didn't do her any justice. Her knees were still damaged. Though the wiring was fixed, the metal was too rusted.

Her hop, however, was successful in of the fact that she managed to land right on the little Bandit's shoulders. She then jumped up again, with much more force, sending the Bandit flying back slightly.

Not enough..!

The jump wasn't enough to make it all the way to the third floor up. She just missed it and was now hanging on by an arm. A weak, lame arm.

I guess I should start accepting the fact that I am to be dismantled soon... at this rate...

Her eyes were fixated on the scene as they run up along the cliffside, coming closer and closer to the tower. It was becoming more apparent that if Scrap wanted the girl, she was going to have to do it herself.

It was then that she increased speed, her body creaking and whining as she sprinted forth toward the edge of the cliff. If she could lunge her body forward with enough force, she could make it to the tower - and if she was lucky hop through one of the windows.

But it was as she took a leap of faith from the cliff she caught glimpse of the girl she wanted, hanging hopelessly by a weak digit. It was then Scrap came crashing into the tower, sliding down some until she hit the window across from her. Within moments she took out her charged whip and snapped it inside, the cord wrapping anxiously around the girls body. The charge was weak, not enough to fry her - but enough to keep her from struggling. "Your mine!"

SETTINGS

ETERNAL SANDS

INTRODUCTION

Many eons ago, the world became a sandblasted realm of endless dunes and eternal winds, but life goes on as technology and magic evolve side by side. Adventurers search for ancient ruins and artefacts, warriors pit their strength against gargantuan beasts, clans battle for territory, brave souls keep the darkness of an ancient evil at bay, a young elf leads the rebellion against the largest empire in existence, and its ruler struggles to keep it all together.

On the desert world of Amara, much of the planet is under the rule of the Marutuk Empire, which faces adversity from not only the elements, but also from rebels, bandits, hostile nomads, gargantuan beasts, ancient terrors unleashed by careless adventurers, and the pure darkness of the Shadow Lord's realm, ever threatening to spill over into the rest of the world. This has been the way of things for thousands of years, and the Empire either shrinks or grows with each passing eon and ruler.

Currently, the Marutuk Empire has known peace for a few generations... a deceiving peace, which the wise would know as only the calm before the storm. Bandits begin to gather for an unknown purpose, rebels rally behind the fiery spirit of their leader, and the Shadow Lord stirs. Indeed, now is a time where the Empire stands upon the crux of a new age; an age of storms, and chaos, and great uncertainty. Where will you stand in all this?

Note that this is a world where the stuff of science fiction exists along with magic, different races, bizarre creatures, guns, swords and armour, and ancient ruins of varying technological levels (eg. one could have robot guardians whilst another has simple spike traps). The world might be a desert all over its surface, but it is yet a diverse place.

GILEAD

INTRODUCTION

This world has been newly terraformed, a process which takes centuries to complete. Perhaps it was meant to become the new home of another race, but all that remains of them are the colossal atmospheric towers, jutting into the sky, and the intelligent machine-race of slaves built to maintain them. These slaves were originally programmed to make the towers keep working for as long as they could, but those ancient spires have long been dead. Somewhere down the centuries, some of the machine slaves had 'inherited the souls of their makers', so it is said, and one by one, they realized that their purpose had died out with the towers. Now they wander around the world in bewilderment, like newborns seeing light for the first time. They have no purpose and so they wander in this world called Gilead.

Background

Atmospheric tower - these things were used to terraform the world. They're the most prominent landmarks in Gilead, being tall enough to poke the clouds, and are an abundant source of scrap metal, but some of them may still be populated by Slaves, who'll react hostilely to anyone damaging the towers in any way. Even worse though are the towers that have been overtaken by Bandits, who'd rather cut or blast you into scrap as a way of saying hello. The best towers to keep a look out for are the ones inhabited by peaceful folk. Such places are known as 'Havens'.

Gileadean - blanket term for the denizens of Gilead.

Inheritor - those who have 'inherited the souls of their makers'. They are essentially former Slave robots who are now sentient and intelligent. You could say that they're the humans of Gilead, but they're not going to know what a human is. The worst thing an Inheritor can do to another, asides from rendering them down into scrap metal, is reprogramming them. One could make another Inheritor a Slave again; essentially killing their soul whilst the body lived on. Reprogramming Slaves on the other hand is generally seen as fair game, but opinions may differ on that.

Slave - those who are still bound by their programming to maintain their tower. For the most part, they'll completely ignore other robots, but if you do anything that they perceive as a threat to their tower, they will get vicious. Some Slaves can become Inheritors, but it's always an individual process, whether they're prodded along by other Inheritors or not. What comes after, well, that depends. Slaves can be reprogrammed to fulfil other tasks/purposes or change what they consider to be threats, but their chances of ever inheriting the souls of their makers is drastically lessened, depending on what's been modified. Some have tried to reprogram Slaves to make them into Inheritors, to force them into sentience or at least speed it up, but there has not been any known successes. Then again, Gilead is a big world.

Bandit - the ones that went bad. When these folks look at you, they don't see a fellow Inheritor. They see scrap metal. Beware of the Bandits.

BACKGROUND

The Marutuk Empire almost covers the entire world of Amara, and its main seat of rule is the city of 'Marutukkai', also generally known as 'Capital City'. The Empire is cosmopolitan in nature and accepts all beings, all races and all cultures. It is ruled by the Dune Emperor, who holds supreme authority over the world. The rulers of the Empire are otherwise known as 'Marutuks' and are all essentially clones of the original Marutuk, the first Dune Emperor. The current ruler is Leto Marutuk, successor of Saladin Marutuk, who resigned to become a military general instead of remaining as an advisor or simply retiring in peace. Leto is yet young, but he has spent his entire life in preparation to become the Dune Emperor and, essentially, the ruler of the world; just as all the other Marutuks before him had done. However, he will soon be tested sorely in the events to come.

Standing in direct opposition to his rule are the rebels. For as long as the Empire has stood, there have always been rebels seeking to free the world from its widespread control. These people often view the Empire as an oppressive regime and its ruler as a tyrant, and they do the very best they can to bring it down or at least undermine it. This often amounts to bombings in Empire held cities, strikes on valuable locations, and assassinations of key individuals, including of course the Marutuk rulers themselves (though few attempts on their lives have ever been successful throughout history). The rebels either live in Empire cities, keeping their affiliations a secret, or out in the wild desert, risking the elements and the more wild inhabitants. Most of the time, the rebels are a disorganized lot and there are few, if any, that are universally recognized as leaders. Nonetheless, there is currently one such individual that all can agree is the overall leader of the rebellion, an elf named Alphonsus Savanti, infamous for his utter fearlessness and audacity. He may be the most brazen rebel leader in generations, and will surely stir the hearts of many. The rebels often draw their recruits and supporters from social outcasts, volunteers, sympathizers, captured Empire citizens, children and, most favourably, bandits and nomads, who rebels attempt to persuade to their cause with varying levels of success.

The nomads are desert dwellers, a hardy folk who wander the sands instead of living in the fold of the Empire. They are a wild people consisting of many different beliefs, languages, races and traditions, and they often travel around in clans, merging with others or fighting over territories, such as oases, or caves and rock shelves that are safe from storms and dangerous beasts. They know how to survive in the desert and take a fierce pride in who they are. Above all, they value strength and anyone who is capable of proving themselves the most formidable warriors are often elevated to positions of authority, or at least they become renowned as champions of their clans. Many nomads distrust and disdain magic, though there are also quite a few who respect such power. It really all depends on the clan, and all nomad clans can be radically different from one another. For the most part, they are indifferent to the conflict between the Empire and rebels, unless it affects them directly. The nomads have their own foes in each other, the elements of the desert, the predatory creatures that dwell in or on the sands, and the bandit clans.

As the term suggests, bandits are usually renegades in one way or another. Outcasts, criminals, anarchists, nomads that live solely through pillaging, and army deserters, these are the kinds of people who can be recognised as bandits. They live in the wild desert and roam across the sands as the nomads do, except that they strike at any and all for any number of reasons, including no reason at all. Sometimes, some bandit gangs may take over entire cities, until they decide to leave of their own accord or are pushed out by other bandits, rebels or the Empire military. Throughout the past, there has been some exceptionally powerful individuals who have had the will and presence of authority enough to unite several bandit gangs into one, often for the purpose of attacking the Empire, or another conglomeration of bandit gangs, or just to raise all kinds of hell. The only place they would try to stay well away from is the 'Shadow Lands', the only place in Amara that is universally feared by all where only the most damned would ever tread. Though the kinds of treasures and powers said to be found in that place is still a tempting prospect for the most daring.

The Shadow Lands is a realm of pure darkness. It is ruled by an ancient entity known as the 'Shadow Lord' and is inhabited by demons, mad sorcerors and scientists, damned souls, malignant spirits, undead creatures and any who offer themselves in eternal servitude to the Shadow Lord. Fortunately for all of Amara, the Shadow Lands can only extend as far as its dark ruler's power of influence allows, and it does not reach very far. However, it is ever a nightmarish blight on the land and the Shadow Lord sometimes makes attempts to expand its influence. This is often kept in check by the Empire's own mages and the brotherhood of 'Rangers', who keep garrisons at key locations to prevent the expansion of the Shadow Lands. They have much experience combating the minions and powers of evil, but whenever the Shadow Lord makes an earnest attempt to extend its dark territory, the cost if often high for keeping it at bay. The fact that few Marutuks ever dare to directly attack the Shadow Lord is an indication of how dangerous its power truly is.

I can't be here all the time, so feel free to RP with other players within the setting of the world. The most basic things about it are:
- The world's a desert.
- The usual fantasy races live in it (dwarf, orc, vampire, werewolf, elf, etc.).
- The Empire and the rebels hate each other, the bandits hate everyone, the nomads don't really care about anyone except for themselves and the demons are demons.
- Magic exists in the world and can range from desert hocus pocus to some truly reality warping stuff. Likewise, technology levels range from sticks and stones to lasers and mech suits.

More info can be found in the OOC threads. If there's anything you wanna add to the world, just throw it out there. Chances are that I'll like it and add to the info threads.
http://www.wtfrpg.com/forum/showthre...ed&rpgtab=oocs

MAJOR STORIES
- The ruler, Leto Marutuk, has granted Issat permission to assemble a team for the finding and capturing of the rebel leader, Alphonsus Savanti.

- The Empire general, Saladin Marutuk, has arrived in Burmard and is establishing a command post.

- The rebel leader, Alphonsus Savanti, has successfully destroyed a military convoy.