This is an excerpt from a short story set in the same universe as our main WiP. Set on a somewhat backward quarantined planet, this is not an action piece I'm afraid but a character piece. The protagonists are from a mercenary group who have just had to make a deal with the rather unsavory character Frederick 'Penlid' Shamely (the nickname is due to him collecting antique pens...) to transport him away from the town they are all in. I have edited out any swearing for posting here.
This is my first post for critiquing and to frank I am somewhat nervous. This piece is actually a couple of years old now. The style of this piece is however very different to the main WiP which is very much far future and hi-tech unlike the post apocalyptic setting here.
This is from around halfway through the story, I hope some of you enjoy the piece and I hope it isn't too painful for me.
***
At a quarter to eight Frederick ‘Penlid’ Shamely walked into the bar wearing a light sand coloured canvas suit, white shirt, a narrow brown tie with a battered black multi-pouched pilots case in hand. The one item missing was the pith helmet but Shamely had made up for that with the addition of a white, black banded fedora style hat that covered his severely greased back shoulder length black hair.
“Truth above, Shamely! You walk around in the daytime dressed like that?” Tork asked.
Shamely blanked him, but seethed inside
“Just the one case then?” Tork reopened.
“I travel light.” Replied the lawyer as he moved out of the way of Crock and Drey as the two huge augmented warriors went back upstairs to fetch the last of their gear.
“Sure, that and leaving half your stuff behind when you get run out of every town you stay in for more than forty eight hours!” Tork laughed.
“You aren’t funny.”
“Actually Penlid I think you’ll find I’m extremely funny, and very grown up,” Tork was clearly enjoying himself now.
“Don’t. Call. Me. That.” Stuttered Shamely, then as an afterthought added, “Please.”
Tork laughed again and swept his arm towards the back door, “Your carriage awaits.”
Once Shamely was out the door Domino stood up.
“You know, you shouldn’t be so mean to the guy, it isn’t his fault he was born such a gimp,” she said, smiling at Tork.
“I know, I know. You have to admit though; this is gonna be a boring trip if we don’t do something to otherwise entertain ourselves. Can’t we just shoot him, ditch him outside town and go home?”
Domino patted him on the shoulder, “You’re such a caring, honourable soul Tork. It’s a good thing we have you to keep us all in line and make sure we don’t do bad things,” with a grin she walked out the door to the others.
“Ahh, soul,” said Rae slowly, sidling around the door.
“Shut up, Rae,” Tork countered a little too grouchy.
Tork stopped at the bottom of the stairs and shouted, “Drey! Crock! Get down here, it’s time to go!” Crashing sounds and slammed doors from above signalled that the pair had heard.
Once everything was packed away the two vehicles left town without any issue. No one ran out and threw a grenade at them, no snipers took pot shots at anyone; all in all it was pretty boring thought Tork glumly, just like the rest of this trip was going to be. He only took solace in the fact that Penlid was travelling in the van behind them with Drey, Crock and Rae and not with him in the car. Sticking his head out of the window and looking back he noted that Rae had opted to get up top and man the sixty six, goggles down to protect her eyes from the stinging dust thrown up off the road. Tork waved back and smiled as Rae saw him and gave him the finger.
“Gotta love Rae, she’s so moody!” laughed Tork as he sat back into his seat.
“Fair play though,” laughed Domino, “I think I’d rather have a face full of dust for the next five hours than share breathing space with that idiot.”
Mike looked at Domino in one of the mirrors set into the driving compartment, “I may not like the guy either dudes but he pretty much stopped there being a blood bath in town. I mean, you would have come and busted me out all guns blazing if he hadn’t been there right?” Tork and Domino looked out of the window, suddenly finding the scrubby desert road really interesting.
“Right?” Mike asked again, doubling his volume.
Tork burst out laughing at Mikes worried face as Domino grabbed him in a headlock from the back causing him to swerve across the wide road.
“Course we would you daft durkey herder, we like you too much! Tork says your mouth sure is too purty to go getting yourself hanged!”
Tork stuffed his rolled up jacket against the armoured interior of the car and used it as a pillow, shuffling around to get comfortable, “I can’t wait to get home, I bet the rest of the crew are missing me like hell. Wake me up when it’s my turn to drive.”
“Uh huh. I’m good for a couple hours, and uh yeah, everyone misses you Tork. Their aim is getting better though,” replied Mike laughing and settled into the boring routine of driving across the repetitive landscape.
Shamely sat opposite Drey, the grey lizard-like giant of a man was heavily augmented for combat. Not as heavy set or muscular as Crock, though still a lot larger than a baseline human - Drey stood around six foot ten with toughened grey skin, black glistening eyes, two slits for nostrils and a wide lipless mouth full of teeth. Trying not to stare was hard and being in close proximity to the pair of combat augmented men was, to be quite frank, nerve wracking. Crock was driving the heavily armoured van and the woman called Rae was standing on a motorised turntable, manning the heavy machine gun on the roof, only her shapely hips, ass and legs visible to Shamely. Stuck between looking at Rae’s ass or Dreys dead eyed stare, either of which he was sure would get him seriously hurt, he decided to just close his eyes in an attempt to rest.
Of course, Drey chose that time to speak, “What you do Frogleys make them want you deaded?” Dreys voice was surprisingly quiet and sibilant but it added to his menace rather than sound wrong.
“That isn’t any of your business. Your business is simply to get me away from that town.” Shamely replied tersely.
Drey leaned forward just a little, “My business killing people small man. Best to no tempt me killing you, killing for free not profit,” Drey leaned a little closer and Shamely sank back a little more into his seat, “wondering how many pay it gets for accidentally kill you, pen man.” Sitting back and crossing his prodigiously muscled arms Drey simply waited.
Drey stared.
Shamely stared back.
To his credit Shamely lasted just over four seconds before looking away, longer than most men could look into those dead eyes without flinching. The trouble was, Shamely could well believe at least a couple of these people could just as happily bury him in a shallow grave and go on their merry way, untroubled by conscience.
“Okay, the Frogleys want to put a bullet in me because they blame me for a hit taken out on one of the younger brothers, one Benlon Frogley. Turns out Paradise Jones took the contract and nailed him in less than thirty six hours. One shot, pow, right in the forehead from over a klick away.”
“And was you that paid for killing him?” Drey asked.
“Yes.” This time Shamely held Dreys gaze. He was sure the man-thing smiled, though it was hard to tell.
A low rumble came from the giant and it took a moment to realise it was a laugh, “Drey thinks it likes you,” Drey said and settled into his seat more.
Well thought the lawyer, that’s better than wanting me dead and smiled to himself just a little.
*
A little over five hours later, and still twenty kilometres away, Verringrad stuck out of the scrubby land like a gigantic monolith. Even at this distance the archology dominated the landscape, like a great flat topped pyramid. So large that the varied protrusions, towers and outcrops lost their identity and just melded into the overall shape, the dark grey structure was daunting and stark, towering above the low hills and rock formations for hundreds of kilometres in any direction.
Archologies such as Verringrad became the last bastion for life after the great war, sealed against the nuclear, chemical and biological weapons that laid waste to the entire world centuries earlier. Almost a hundred years after the last bombs fell, the survivors began venturing out of the crowded archologies and back into the desolate wilds that remained of their world. A world with no centralized government; no law except what each archology imposed upon its territory. A world quarantined from the rest of the galaxy by a military blockade set up to contain the poisoned planet and its surviving inhabitants.
This is my first post for critiquing and to frank I am somewhat nervous. This piece is actually a couple of years old now. The style of this piece is however very different to the main WiP which is very much far future and hi-tech unlike the post apocalyptic setting here.
This is from around halfway through the story, I hope some of you enjoy the piece and I hope it isn't too painful for me.
***
At a quarter to eight Frederick ‘Penlid’ Shamely walked into the bar wearing a light sand coloured canvas suit, white shirt, a narrow brown tie with a battered black multi-pouched pilots case in hand. The one item missing was the pith helmet but Shamely had made up for that with the addition of a white, black banded fedora style hat that covered his severely greased back shoulder length black hair.
“Truth above, Shamely! You walk around in the daytime dressed like that?” Tork asked.
Shamely blanked him, but seethed inside
“Just the one case then?” Tork reopened.
“I travel light.” Replied the lawyer as he moved out of the way of Crock and Drey as the two huge augmented warriors went back upstairs to fetch the last of their gear.
“Sure, that and leaving half your stuff behind when you get run out of every town you stay in for more than forty eight hours!” Tork laughed.
“You aren’t funny.”
“Actually Penlid I think you’ll find I’m extremely funny, and very grown up,” Tork was clearly enjoying himself now.
“Don’t. Call. Me. That.” Stuttered Shamely, then as an afterthought added, “Please.”
Tork laughed again and swept his arm towards the back door, “Your carriage awaits.”
Once Shamely was out the door Domino stood up.
“You know, you shouldn’t be so mean to the guy, it isn’t his fault he was born such a gimp,” she said, smiling at Tork.
“I know, I know. You have to admit though; this is gonna be a boring trip if we don’t do something to otherwise entertain ourselves. Can’t we just shoot him, ditch him outside town and go home?”
Domino patted him on the shoulder, “You’re such a caring, honourable soul Tork. It’s a good thing we have you to keep us all in line and make sure we don’t do bad things,” with a grin she walked out the door to the others.
“Ahh, soul,” said Rae slowly, sidling around the door.
“Shut up, Rae,” Tork countered a little too grouchy.
Tork stopped at the bottom of the stairs and shouted, “Drey! Crock! Get down here, it’s time to go!” Crashing sounds and slammed doors from above signalled that the pair had heard.
Once everything was packed away the two vehicles left town without any issue. No one ran out and threw a grenade at them, no snipers took pot shots at anyone; all in all it was pretty boring thought Tork glumly, just like the rest of this trip was going to be. He only took solace in the fact that Penlid was travelling in the van behind them with Drey, Crock and Rae and not with him in the car. Sticking his head out of the window and looking back he noted that Rae had opted to get up top and man the sixty six, goggles down to protect her eyes from the stinging dust thrown up off the road. Tork waved back and smiled as Rae saw him and gave him the finger.
“Gotta love Rae, she’s so moody!” laughed Tork as he sat back into his seat.
“Fair play though,” laughed Domino, “I think I’d rather have a face full of dust for the next five hours than share breathing space with that idiot.”
Mike looked at Domino in one of the mirrors set into the driving compartment, “I may not like the guy either dudes but he pretty much stopped there being a blood bath in town. I mean, you would have come and busted me out all guns blazing if he hadn’t been there right?” Tork and Domino looked out of the window, suddenly finding the scrubby desert road really interesting.
“Right?” Mike asked again, doubling his volume.
Tork burst out laughing at Mikes worried face as Domino grabbed him in a headlock from the back causing him to swerve across the wide road.
“Course we would you daft durkey herder, we like you too much! Tork says your mouth sure is too purty to go getting yourself hanged!”
Tork stuffed his rolled up jacket against the armoured interior of the car and used it as a pillow, shuffling around to get comfortable, “I can’t wait to get home, I bet the rest of the crew are missing me like hell. Wake me up when it’s my turn to drive.”
“Uh huh. I’m good for a couple hours, and uh yeah, everyone misses you Tork. Their aim is getting better though,” replied Mike laughing and settled into the boring routine of driving across the repetitive landscape.
Shamely sat opposite Drey, the grey lizard-like giant of a man was heavily augmented for combat. Not as heavy set or muscular as Crock, though still a lot larger than a baseline human - Drey stood around six foot ten with toughened grey skin, black glistening eyes, two slits for nostrils and a wide lipless mouth full of teeth. Trying not to stare was hard and being in close proximity to the pair of combat augmented men was, to be quite frank, nerve wracking. Crock was driving the heavily armoured van and the woman called Rae was standing on a motorised turntable, manning the heavy machine gun on the roof, only her shapely hips, ass and legs visible to Shamely. Stuck between looking at Rae’s ass or Dreys dead eyed stare, either of which he was sure would get him seriously hurt, he decided to just close his eyes in an attempt to rest.
Of course, Drey chose that time to speak, “What you do Frogleys make them want you deaded?” Dreys voice was surprisingly quiet and sibilant but it added to his menace rather than sound wrong.
“That isn’t any of your business. Your business is simply to get me away from that town.” Shamely replied tersely.
Drey leaned forward just a little, “My business killing people small man. Best to no tempt me killing you, killing for free not profit,” Drey leaned a little closer and Shamely sank back a little more into his seat, “wondering how many pay it gets for accidentally kill you, pen man.” Sitting back and crossing his prodigiously muscled arms Drey simply waited.
Drey stared.
Shamely stared back.
To his credit Shamely lasted just over four seconds before looking away, longer than most men could look into those dead eyes without flinching. The trouble was, Shamely could well believe at least a couple of these people could just as happily bury him in a shallow grave and go on their merry way, untroubled by conscience.
“Okay, the Frogleys want to put a bullet in me because they blame me for a hit taken out on one of the younger brothers, one Benlon Frogley. Turns out Paradise Jones took the contract and nailed him in less than thirty six hours. One shot, pow, right in the forehead from over a klick away.”
“And was you that paid for killing him?” Drey asked.
“Yes.” This time Shamely held Dreys gaze. He was sure the man-thing smiled, though it was hard to tell.
A low rumble came from the giant and it took a moment to realise it was a laugh, “Drey thinks it likes you,” Drey said and settled into his seat more.
Well thought the lawyer, that’s better than wanting me dead and smiled to himself just a little.
*
A little over five hours later, and still twenty kilometres away, Verringrad stuck out of the scrubby land like a gigantic monolith. Even at this distance the archology dominated the landscape, like a great flat topped pyramid. So large that the varied protrusions, towers and outcrops lost their identity and just melded into the overall shape, the dark grey structure was daunting and stark, towering above the low hills and rock formations for hundreds of kilometres in any direction.
Archologies such as Verringrad became the last bastion for life after the great war, sealed against the nuclear, chemical and biological weapons that laid waste to the entire world centuries earlier. Almost a hundred years after the last bombs fell, the survivors began venturing out of the crowded archologies and back into the desolate wilds that remained of their world. A world with no centralized government; no law except what each archology imposed upon its territory. A world quarantined from the rest of the galaxy by a military blockade set up to contain the poisoned planet and its surviving inhabitants.
