OOC: Wonder wheres pach....
Vink led his small squad around the Junk hill. There were many of these. Collected over the years. Most people like them, gives them some metal to work with, And, cover when two Bands meet, and there trading doesn't go well. Vink looked through the scope. Hills, a burned out harvester, a small fire left going, and a small tint of glass.
Oh Shit
The Rocket barley missed him, the junk pouring down.
"What the.."
Vink could barely finish his senctce before anthoer Rocket flew over his head. He quickly ran to some cover, and he tried looked for the shooter, and bullets were flying everywhere. He took small a unlucky soldier, his head was turned. He solwy began to turn his head. Then, Vink called up Xexveres on his Vox-Caster
"Damn it Xexres, what the hell are you doing? You almost got a rocket stuck inside my head@"
"That was you? God, im so sorry"
"Yeah, just make sure that that doesnt happen agian"
"Got it"
Vink and his platoon got up, and walked toawrs them. Nobody was hurt, they resumed there Combot Patrol. A few timkes, they saw some bands, and they lleft them alone. He climbed to the top of a hill. A small trading post, with a Tavern.
Perfect...
"Xexerves, I'm going inside that village for a few minutes. If i dont come back when the sun is midway, i want you to call in a air strike there."
Vink took him, and a few others into. His cloak was swriling about in the wind. He kept his kinfe on his back, and he held his shotgun. He walked through the village, and enterd the tavern. It was the best place to hire Mercines, and others. Milita fighters were there, always looking for more money. Gladiators, who fought for money, visted there often, maybe selling himself out to a passing band. Off Worlders, the ones who survied the wrecks, carrying there fancy wepons, that could pirece even the best armour.
"Anybody here want some extra Galacs?"
Almost everyone turned around and looked at Vink.
"I will pay each who joins us 25 Galacs"
Whispers were heard around. That wasnt chump change. It was 6 months pay for most workers. Then, 40 men stood up.
"We'll join."
"Good, you all will be paid every month."
They left the tavern. They crossed the hill, a motley lot. Some had Wastlerifles, others had Axes. Some had a bolter, and some had a Flamerthrower.
"Xexrves, where you want to go?"