Lefty, Post Apocolyptic Gunslinger

April 11, 2008

Lefty leaned heavily into the wind as he trudged forward, sand scattering and sparking off of the shimmering air protecting him. Slung over his shoulder was a large bulging bag. He continued forward blindly, trusting his instinct to lead him to the nearest compound before something went wrong on the storm swallowed him. Normally he knew better then to leave the safety of his crawler. Normally the sand filters on the crawler didn’t explode inwards mid-storm. He carried some supplies in hopes of a trade for the part he needed to get the crawler inhabitable again. In the meantime he kept a piece of shredded cloth tied around the lower part of his face, just in case something went wrong with his shield. It didn’t take long trying to breath in one of the storms to have your lungs sandblasted into a gooey pulp. Gooey pulp wasn’t very good for breathing. And Lefty had grown awfully fond of breathing over the years.

Just as he was starting to wear down, his foot trudged forward onto nothing. He toppled down into the sand with a curse, taking the bag of supplies to the back of the head twice as he bounced down the slope and crashed into the door. He growled and untangled himself and examined it. It looked to be a double seal system, so if he could get through the outer door, it wouldn’t immediately allow sand to start flooding in. He gave it three solid pounds, hoping that someone inside might open up. No such luck though. He sighed. This was going to be an expensive trip. He focused on the annoyance at hiking clear out here and at the tumble he had taken and on just what he would do to the man who sold him the cheap filters the next time he saw him. The anger simmered up nicely while he pulled on the door and as he continued feeding that fire his grip tightened and finally the door opened with a screech of protesting locking mechanisms. He pulled it open just enough to fit himself and his bag through, slid in and forced it shut. Even in that brief amount of time, sand had flooded into the small chamber up to his ankles.

Lefty waded through it over to the other door and gave it three solid pounds as well. No answer. He pounded again and added a shout. “Hey, come on! Traveler in need! Help a guy out!”

He waited. Again no answer. Finally he set the pack in the corner and settled onto the ground with a heavy sigh, letting his shield flicker out of existence. Probably didn’t bother with guards during the storm. Everyone with half a brain was probably as far from where the storm might sneak in from as possible. He shut his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep. He’d give them some time before he broke another door. No sense pissing off people too much. It would be better to head back between storms anyway, give him time to clean the crawler out and make repairs without having to fight so hard.

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