The Scotessy

[Sivin]

@Ser Scot A Ellison 

@Nasty LongRider

@Manhole Eunuchsbane

@Martell Spy

@James Arryn

 

 

Writers note: With all of the doom and gloom about at the moment, I thought I would make an effort at injecting a bit of levity into the lives of as many of my favorite boarders as possible. I don't know what any of you look like or your profession other than what you may have hinted at over the years. I hope you all get a smile or maybe a chuckle out of my effort. I give you Chapter One of 

 

 

THE SCOTESSY 

 

 

 

 

An air of tense desperation hung about the air belting the whimsical description of the cantina I had drifted into. It was a garish place, full of clashing colors and decorated in the fashion of a stereotypical sixties disco. I knew as I hung my hat by the door that the locals had founded it, no doubt at great expense to scarce remaining resources, as something of a final act of defiance against The Fall.

I'd seen similar displays in my travels. 'Better to celebrate while we still can than turn against each other and live as worms' the arguments often went. Perhaps I stayed because I felt I had nothing left, perhaps it was fate. Once I might have thought it was an exertion of Christ. But that was before the plane...

Regardless of the reason, I stayed. And the events of that day in the sixties cantina would change everything.

Leaving the doorway I made my way to the bar. There was no attendant in sight for the moment, but I was sure one would turn up soon as I took a stool from where I could see the door and the center of the room. To my eye there might have been twenty souls roaming between the hideously lit dance floor and tables clustered against the walls. Every other patron wore garments as mismatched and outdated as the decor, leaving me conscious of standing out in my simple clothes. Nowhere else might a stained white shirt, brown vest, and tan pants have marked me an outsider.

In short order a barmaid emerged from a door that bisected the tall, mostly barren, liquor shelves carrying two bowls containing a surprisingly generous amount of gruel that might have been rice based. Of average height, her short hair was feathered to frame a face almost entirely devoted to the oversized glasses that nested defensively in her pert nose. Combined with the smart pale blue suit she wore, there was no way I wouldn't have marked her as a nasty woman. She set the bowls down and shouted "order up"in a decidedly unshrill voice over the music. A handsome black man dressed in a pinstriped frilled suit and sporting an intimidating blond afro hustled out of the crowd.

"Lovely Ridah!" The man beamed as he set down a pack of cigarettes.

"You still owe for your drinks the other night" she admonished, seeming amused.

"Oh damn. I forgot. Can you put it on my tab?  I got a copy of Half Blood Prince."

"What!?!" She gasped. "You don't owe that much. That'd cover you for a month."

"No I want you to have it. But I'll take two weeks worth if you insist." After she leaned over to say something I could not hear he bounded away with the bowls.

I was absolutely floored. I hadn't seen anything like that since before The Fall. Not only had she extended him credit (more than once!), he'd argued down on the price of his own good! Out here on the edge of Colorado had I found a new world with old values?

"Hey! I'm talking at you." 

The irritated voice snapped me back to the world. The barmaid was looking at me warily. "Sorry" I smiled, "I don't suppose you have tequila?" Juding by her glare I doubted I'd get as friendly a price as the other guy no matter what I ordered.

Her glowering look turned smoothly into a smirk "tequila ain't cheap" she told me almost triumphantly.

I nodded wordlessly and slid a one-hundred dollar American note onto the table. 

She laughed in my face. "Not on your life pal. Sure, it's enough today. But tomorrow?" She began to turn away.

"Wait! I called. "I have this." From my pocket I withdrew an old I-pod and set it on the counter. I had a feeling in this place.

Her eyes narrowed severely "on it?"

Gesturing her close I leaned forward, one hand on my holster. "Springsteen" I whispered. "Greatest hits. You can play it until I leave."

A smile immediately broke across her face, quickly replaced by a combination of apprehension and greed. As if she'd just spied a feast surrounded by a swarm of venomous snakes. "Let us copy it and your night is paid for."

I smiled back and extended my hand. She grasped it firmly, though I did not fail to notice hers had been under the counter during the bargain."You have a safe device?"

"Of course" she breathed, scooping up the little music square. "Tequila was it?" At my nod she produced a tumbler and after a few seconds of rummaging a half-full bottle of Jose Cuervo Gold.

Following her signal I poured myself a few fingers as she disappeared into the back again. I'd only just taken a sip when she returned with a decidedly friendlier posture. As the delicious drink sent it's so long forgotten shiver of friendship through my body she began polishing a filthy glass with an even filthier rag. To my concerned look she winked "water isn't cheap either. But don't worry, any man brings Springsteen he gets a fresh rag."

I raised the glass to her on the way to my second sip. "So..." she said, drawing the word out. "What brings you to our dusty refuge Sir?" 

The drink caught in my throat and I almost sputtered, "Scot, please."

She further relaxed, no longer polishing the glass as if she meant to use it as a missile. "We don't use given names here friend" she told me "for reasons you might guess."

I gave an understanding shrug. "So you go by Rider?"

That smirk again, though this time a lot more friendly, "Long Rider" the nasty woman corrected.

Laughing, I raised the glass again as the entrance door swung open. Looking over her shoulder, Long Rider's grin slipped away when she saw the men enter. "These two..." I heard her mutter.

The duo could not have been more out of place there if they had been, well, me. The taller of the two was a severe looking gentleman wearing a fine black suit complete with black vest and hat, which he did not remove. The other was quite plain, sporting cargo shorts and a collared shirt. Oddly, I noted, looking as his balding head, he had no hat at all. They both smiled insincerely at Long Rider and made for the dance floor. "What's their deal?" I asked the once again frosty woman.

"Radicals" she told me angrily "even more than us. The tall one was a linker, the short a meme-er."

"Whoa" I couldn't help but be impressed at her courage "you have some clientele."

"Like you?" Here tone was lighter again "a man carrying The Bruce? Who were you?"

"A lawyer" I told her. "In another life." That had been before The Fall. Before the plane. Unbidden the memories of the plane came back, punching me in the gut as I felt the overwhelming longing for my family. Their absense tore at my stomach like a pack of Wolves and once again I thought in vain about how I would do anything to see them again. Once I would never have doubted I would see them in the next life at least. But now... I wasn't sure I could believe such things.

Raised voices broke my trance of despair and I looked up to see the newcomers engaged in a heated conversation with a woman wearing a Leopard spotted onsie. I stood automatically, but a hand on my arm stayed my feet. "Don't" Long Rider warned "these men are not to be taken lightly. Whatever you were before, you're no lawman now."

"I have to do something" I said as I walked towards the argument. People were still dancing around the confrontation as I approached.

"We're not all so reckless, Manhole!" The woman said to the short man, who scoffed.

"You've more courage than you know." He said, pulling from his pocket a labeled picture of what looked like an aggressive cat. "Spy, tell her."

Spy, who could only be the taller man, patted his friend on the shoulder and nodded towards me as I made their triangle a square. "Can we help you friend?" He asked in a smooth voice that might have once belonged to used car dealer.

"Just wanted to make sure the lady wasn't feeling harassed." I explained coldly.

"Well thanks for the concern" Leopard prints said dismissively "but I can handle this, Sir." The look she gave me suggested that a stranger dressed as I was an unwelcome ally.

"Sorry, it's just Scot." As I said the words she visibly relaxed as the bar keep had earlier.

"Well, Scot" the tall man interjected. "You can  me Martell, and my associate here is one Eunuchsbane. You look like a man..." He broke off suddenly as the handsome man who'd approached the bar earlier appeared on the scene.

"You..." The newcomers said accusingly.

"Me."

The tension had been ratcheted up to eleven as the Leopard woman dematerialized into the dancing crowd. Hands began drifting towards pistols when Long Rider rushed forward clutching my I-pod. "Here!" She said breathlessly as she put it into my hand. "Please, come back tomorrow and your food and drink are still on the house."

"I won't be here tomorrow, but I'll leave if I know we're all going to be gentlemen." I offered to the group.

"Oh he's no man!" Accused the handsome man, looking at the one called Eunuchsbane.

Before I could unpack that statement, he'd punched the short plain man full in the face. Martell and I both had our guns drawn before he hit the floor, each pointing one at the other and one at the handsome man.

"James..." Martell began.

"It's Arryn here" the handsome man cut him off as he knelt over the dazed Manhole. "And he's" Arryn placed his hand under the chin of his fallen foe and ripped his face clean off. "A velociraptor, baby... yeah!"

Before my own two eyes a velociraptor's head -looking exactly like in the first Jurassic Park movie with no feathers or goddamn beak- emerged from the mans body of Eunuchsbane. I stared transfixed as Arryn smoothly danced away from its snapping jaws.

As the creature regained its feet amid the panicked screams of disco dancers suddenly rushing rushing for the exit, the clothes and human body seemed to split and fall away revealing a six foot rough skinned lizard that looked EXACTLY LIKE THE MOVIE.

"You'll pay for that" it snarled at Arryn before spreading its jaws and arms wide and lunging.

As I brought my gun to bear on the beast I heard a crack and the world began to spin as pain crackled across my temple.

The world went dark.

 

 

As sensation returned, I first felt the pain in my head. Slowly, from far away, I heard a woman's voice. After what felt like hours I could dimly see Long Rider. My vision returned quickly as I heard her repeating "are you ok?"

I groaned in response and she moved on to where Arryn was leaned against the bar nursing a savaged leg. "Where'd they go?" I growled.

"I scared them off" Long Rider told me, brandishing a mean looking assault weapon.

"Is he going to be ok?"

"I'll live. You?" Arryn said through gritted teeth.

I grunted in response as I picked up my I-pod from where I had dropped it earlier. I felt at my bleeding head as I stumbled to retrieve my pistols before heading to the bar. The tequila was tucked under my arm and I was making for the door when Long Rider called out. "Where are you going?"

"After them." I growled.

"Are you insane?" She demanded from where she knelt with Arryn. They'll kill you. Just let them go."

Memories of the plane flashed across my mind, and memories of a thousand other injustices since The Fall.

"Whatever I am now, I'm still a lawman." I said as I donned my hat.

When I opened the door it was easy to see in the harsh sunlight which prints in the dust I needed to follow. One pair of bootprint and a monster's claws led east into the open sands and scrub of Colorado.

A man in black and a velociraptor fled across the desert.

I followed.

 

[Manhole Eunuchsbane]

 Lulz. You nailed the cargo shorts and balding part, but I'm not short and a t-shirt would be more likely. Fun stuff, WinterFox. 

[Ser Scot A Ellison]

Wow.  I'm blushing.

[LongRider]

    Well done.  Watch out though, the eastern plains of Colorado lead to Kansas and well, yanno, Kansas. 

 

[DireWolfSpirit]

Wait........Sixties disco??

[Manhole Eunuchsbane]

1 hour ago, DireWolfSpirit said:

Wait........Sixties disco??

It's an Elseworlds story.

[all swedes are racist]

12 hours ago, DireWolfSpirit said:

Wait........Sixties disco??

what, you don't think they had dance clubs in the 60s?

[Martell Spy]

Quote

what, you don't think they had dance clubs in the 60s?

 

 I think Dire means that disco clubs were in the 70's, or so TV tells us.

Hahah, yeah I'm actually short irl, so me and Manhole got switched somehow. I might wear black suits though.

[Sivin]

@Ser Scot A Ellison

@Martell Spy

@Manhole Eunuchsbane

@Nasty LongRider

@James Arryn

 

 

Writers Note: In this installment our stalwart protagonist discovers himself during the chase. Chapter two of

 

THE SCOTESSY

 

 

There is nothing in the desert. And no man needs nothing.

The line came to me a bare hour into my chase of the black clad Martell Spy and his treacherous velociraptor ally Manhole Eunuchsbane. Their tracks were easy to follow in the harsh light, heading determinedly east.

All rudimentary signs of civilization had been left behind the moment I'd left the sixties cantina where the nasty woman Long Rider had remained to treat the injured James Arryn. Out here the world might not have changed at all. After night fell I could even see the stars clearly, shining brightly from the heavens I almost might have reached out and touched from this high on the earth. The toxins of the new world had not spoiled these elevated skies, a fact for which I was imminently grateful. In the lowlands near the sea I still remembered as home it was an unending battle for the lungs to separate the oxygen from pollutants with every gasped breath.

The moon was hours old in the night sky when I stopped next to a boulder for rest. The temperature had been plummeting for some time and I dug myself a shallow depression against the rock to pass the night. Quickly I activated my I-pod and inserted the earpiece. The sweet lyrics of Lady Gaga brought a tear to my eye as memories of a better life returned. A swig of my prize tequila settled my emotions and I closed my eyes to swim in the waters of reflection.

My last waking thought was that I should have brought my family to a place like this when there was still time.

 

I was walking down wide marble corridors, once ornate doors on each side beyond count. I was fleeing. Or was I chasing? The halls had clearly been grand, once. But the lighting was poor and neglect had allowed air scum to coat every surface.Every step stuck to the ground and sent an odd popping sound echoing through the building.

I did not like this place, I quickened my pace to be free of it. Behind me I heard something. I dared not look back, instead breaking into a run. It kept pace, how I perceived this I do not know, but there was not a doubt in my mind that if I looked back I would see the crushing weight of eternity rushing towards me.

The floor was covered in debris now and I was forced to avoid tripping over nameplates and water damaged stacks of paper. In moments I had come to a thin layer of water setting over the floor. I could not have said there was a slope to this hall, but as I ran the water deepened. By the time it was ankle deep I could feel the eternal presence against my neck.

With a wordless cry, I forced myself to keep my previous speed despite the water being at my knees. I threw aside flotsam and rotten furniture in my path. The water was filthy, its odor choking me as I splashed on past my waist. I slipped.

Only for a moment, the briefest loss of footing, but my existential terror arrested any fall and onward I continued all but swimming now. The poisons in the water burned my skin and eyes, and I desperately tried to keep it out of my mouth. I was fully submerged now, flailing in an uncontrolled dash for the end of this nightmarish hall. The eternal void followed me still.

My heart was beating wildly, my lungs burning when I saw a light ahead. I kicked desperately as the water turned to ice around me. The Void was freezing and getting closer. The door, how I must reach that door! It was a light at the end of this sunken tunnel, a promise of deliverance from this most unbearable hell! The water around my legs no longer allowed a force against which to propel as before, it was heavy and weighing. I waved my arms frantically, so close! The cold was permeating every part of my being. How easy it would be to let it take me, I was already feeling warmer. There were worse ways to die than drowning.

No! My legs kicked with a titanic effort, forcing me into and through the door.

The escaping tide of water carried me out of the hall, spilling me onto the ground. I gasped, never more thankful for such acrid air. I lay there panting as the cold gave way slowly to an uncomfortably smothering heat, like the most humid Carolinian day.

Before long I was unbearably hot and a burnt taste had filled my mouth. I opened my eyes and got unsteadily to my feet. Glancing around I could see no door through which I must have come. In fact, there was no sign of all the water that had spilled me here.

I looked around, dimly realizing that I stood at the edge of a massive columned Pantheon-style temple. Ahead of me a sweeping stair led to a broad yard overblown in refuse. A wide and incredibly long shallow pool extended into the distance, filled not with water but instead a coarse rusty soot that fell from the raging orange clouds to cover everything exposed. Those clouds cast their shadow over everything, turning the entire world the sickly color of a grapefruit. At the end of the pool a crumbling black stained spire thrust rudely towards the heavens, as if warning them away. I turned to see what lay behind me, afraid of what I might find. My eyes were drawn to a series of words, overrun by a deadly looking black mold. 'In...Hearts...of...People...He...Is Enshrined Forever'

My eyes lowered to a dusty oversized marble chair, my knees buckling and my vision tunneling into nothingness as I beheld the place where a great leader of men might have sat.

It was empty.

 

I sucked in air quickly as I started awake. Day was breaking and my breath froze in front of me. Wanting to warm myself I quickly gathered my few effects and set off again following the still clear tracks. The tequila was thick and smooth from the cold, but I was careful to drink only a sip. Less than a quarter of the bottle remained and I had brought no more supplies.

Last nights haunting dream followed me through the morning. I occupied my mind with wondering what it meant. The icy terror had been so real as to leave me shivering in the sweltering heat of that desert at the mere memory, and the empty chair where there should have been an icon? No thought that occurred to me alleviated the dread I had felt to look upon it.

The sun was at its highest when I first thought of turning back, but I could not. After all of the wrongs since The Fall, I was taking a stand. I would find Manhole and Spy. And I would bring them to justice, whatever form it was required. I could no longer be a bystander to evil. Not after what had happened on the plane.

By the time the sun was behind me I was more staggering more than walking. My eyes were burning, my throat raw. Only a precious little tequila remained to me and it took an effort equal to continuing not to finish it off. The tracks continued into that arid hell, I focused on them exclusively. One more mile. I kept telling myself. One more mile, then I'll be on them.

There was no telling how long I'd been walking in darkness when I finally stumbled to a stop. There was no boulder, nor did I dig another depression. My head was swimming, my throat burning, and my belly ached painfully. No, I simply collapsed on my side and descended into a restless sleep.

No dreams disturbed me that night, nor did I truly sleep. As black night gave way to purple dawn I swallowed the last of my precious drink. It soothed my ragged throat but set my empty belly on end almost causing me to retch.

Knowing I would not last another twenty-four hours in these conditions, I stuffed the empty bottle in my belt and continued. It was not long before the sun was high and hot. The desert did not want me here, I knew that now. It opened itself to passage for my foes, but some evil had caused it to be closed to me. Before long my eyes were swollen, attempting to weep in spite of my moisture starved state.

I had allowed myself to think of the life I'd had before the plane. My family, my home. The Fall had robbed us of so much joy, but at least we'd had each other. That plane! Why had I allowed myself to board? Their loss drove me to my knees. How could I go on? I would never see them again, I was going to die here.

Just as I began to lower myself to a resting position I saw it. There, out past the shimmering heat. Something... green?

Possessed of a newfound urgency I staggered forward, praying it was not a hallucination. In minutes I had reached it. A shock of chest high growths. Devils Grass, my children would have been taught to call it in the new world.

They said that consumption of the bud lead to irreparable madness. To treat with it was to invite death.

I did not care. I lunged forward, tearing open and licking at the damp stalks before devouring the grainy buds at the top. It did not matter to me what was said of the plants or how they had come to be here. I was a dying man, this was life.

The world was spinning by the time I stumbled back to the tracks. Onward they took me. As noon came and went I was seized by an unbridled euphoria bordering on mania. At times I burst into laughter at the thoughts of unjust things I would do to my quarry in the name of justice before being overwhelmed with guilt at what I had come to.

Unlike my children had been taught, the effects of the Devils Grass had faded while the sun was still looming over the baked ground. I was still weak, but it had sustained me for now. When perhaps two hours of light remained, I found the end of the desert.

I stood now at the edge of a miles long slope downwards. From my elevation I felt as if half the world was open to me. The slope was significant, though not dangerously steep.

Laid out before me the dust and scrub gave way to poor quality farmland. I could see houses and roughly tended fields where survivors eked out a mean living. Down in the denser air the clean skies gave way to horribly bloated black and yellow clouds that lurked low to the ground.

This was not the weather of the world. I had reached Kansas.

[LongRider]

12 hours ago, Martell Spy said:

 

 I think Dire means that disco clubs were in the 70's, or so TV tells us.

Hahah, yeah I'm actually short irl, so me and Manhole got switched somehow. I might wear black suits though.

You might be short but your avatar is tall!

[Sivin]

On 2/5/2017 at 4:47 PM, Manhole Eunuchsbane said:

 Lulz. You nailed the cargo shorts and balding part, but I'm not short and a t-shirt would be more likely. Fun stuff, WinterFox. 

 

16 hours ago, Martell Spy said:

 

 I think Dire means that disco clubs were in the 70's, or so TV tells us.

Hahah, yeah I'm actually short irl, so me and Manhole got switched somehow. I might wear black suits though.

I based your initial character descriptions partly on avatars.

On 2/5/2017 at 11:13 PM, Manhole Eunuchsbane said:

It's an Elseworlds story.

What does this mean?

On 2/5/2017 at 7:56 PM, Nasty LongRider said:

    Well done.  Watch out though, the eastern plains of Colorado lead to Kansas and well, yanno, Kansas. 

 

I always have trouble with fans guessing where the story is going. Sometimes I see something and I'm like "ohh! Why didn't I think of that!?!"

Other times I'm like "You know directions."  

On 2/5/2017 at 5:49 PM, Ser Scot A Ellison said:

Wow.  I'm blushing.

Positively I hope.

[Martell Spy]

Quote

I based your initial character descriptions partly on avatars.

Oh well, then make me a sentient giraffe, LOL.

[Manhole Eunuchsbane]

11 hours ago, WinterFox said:

What does this mean?

Elseworlds is a Detective Comics imprint wherein the stories take place outside of the normal continuity. Like say Red Son for example, which is a Superman story where his spaceship lands in Soviet Russia instead of rural Kansas.  

[James Arryn]

Lol. Reduced to eye again, SOML.  But anything that leads with a Lawrence of Arabia quote gets my vote.

 

Honestly, though, nicely done.