Just the Fiction: Notorious Actual Play - Part 4
Still resolute, Malachi continued his search across the endless dunes of Talus. The desert heat had a way of sapping not only the Nomad's strength but also his spirit. Yet he was determined to find Kwame Devine.
As he navigated the undulating dunes, a flash of color caught his eye. Approaching cautiously, Malachi knelt down and examined the torn remnants of a backpack, its emblem bearing the unmistakable insignia of the Old Empire.
The poor soul who had once carried this pack had likely met a grisly fate at the jaws of some desert predator. Malachi scanned the area, his senses heightened, but there was no sign of the owner's remains.
Continuing on, Malachi soon came across another Murian Scrapcrawler, its treads churning up the sand as it moved slowly across the dunes. Malachi approached the vehicle, hoping to glean some information about Devine's whereabouts, but the Murians aboard seemed just as evasive as the others he had encountered.
Although no one asked, one Murian had no qualms expressing how they felt on the current status of Talus, "Yes, the Cartel have been growing stronger, that's for sure. Ever since the Old Empire and the New Uprising started their little war, the Targs have been taking advantage of the chaos."
He hacked and spat into the sand, his disgust palpable. "Now Talus is nothing but a open playground for those greedy, pig-faced scum. The people here suffer under them, but what can we do? They've got us all too scared to even speak up."
Malachi listened, his mind churning with the implications. The Targ Cartel's growing influence should not be an obstacle, since they are the faction that put the contract out on Devine.
"I see," Malachi said, his voice measured. "Maybe one day, Talus will find peace."
With a nod, he turned and headed back into the sands.
---
Malachi trudged through the endless sea of sand, his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, the vision imparted by the Murian acolyte weighing heavily upon him.
Suddenly, a soft chime emanated from his communication device, drawing his attention. Confused, he activated the device, his crystals twisting as he processed the information.
"A lifeform has been detected aboard my ship," he murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of concern. "That is impossible - I am leagues away from that canyon."
Without hesitation, Malachi activated the communication link, his grip tightening as he spoke sternly, "Intruder, identify yourself." His crystalline brow furrowed as he awaited a response.
After a moment, a static-laced voice crackled to life. "Who is this?" The voice was female, laced with a mixture of fear and defiance.
"The owner of the vessel in which you decided to trespass," he replied, his tone clipped and authoritative. "Identify yourself and explain your presence on my ship."
There was a brief pause, then the woman's voice returned, her words laced with venom. "Your ship!? Fuck your ship, you heartless murderer! You Nomad bastards took my husband, my life away from me."
Annoyance and anger arose in Malachi, "Stand down and leave the ship immediately, or face the consequences."
"Consequences?" the woman spat. "I'll show you consequences, you bounty-hunting son of a bitch. I'm going to blow this ship to hell, and there's nothing you can do about it."
Malachi's eyes narrowed as he rapidly accessed the ship's systems, his fingers flying over the controls. "I'm afraid that's not an option," he said sternly. "The ship is now on lockdown, and you are now sealed inside. If you attempt to destroy it, you will also succeed in destroying yourself. I hope you don't have anyone relying on your return."
The woman's voice wavered. "You... you can't do this. I won't let you."
"I can, and I have," Malachi replied, his tone unwavering. "Your husband's death was a tragedy, but it was not by my hand. Now, stand down."
There was a long, tense silence, and Malachi could almost feel the woman's anguish and desperation. Finally, her voice only a trembling whisper, came through the device.
"Empire authorities did nothing. My husband was considered collateral damage during legal Nomad operations. No one cared." There was some sobbing and then communications when silent for what seemed like an eternity before she continued, "Just... let me go."
Malachi's relaxed and lowered the communications device, and he released the lockdown, allowing the woman to depart. As the ship's systems registered her exit, he let out a sigh, the weight of the encounter settling heavily upon him.
"Forgive me," he muttered to himself, his voice tinged with regret. "But I cannot be held responsible for the actions of others."
---
By nightfall, Malachi made his way towards the familiar sight of Quan's Moisture Farm. The harsh desert heat had again taken its toll, leaving him longing for the respite and cool that the farm's humble dwelling promised.
Quan greeted Malachi with a warm smile as he entered the cool confines of her home. "Malachi," she said, inclining her head respectfully. "I was not expecting you again so soon… or ever again."
"Circumstances have brought me back," Malachi replied, his voice low and measured. "I find myself in need of your hospitality this evening."
Quan nodded, "Then hospitality you shall receive." She gestured towards the common room. "Make yourself comfortable. I will bring you some sustenance shortly."
Malachi nodded in gratitude and made his way to the room, sinking down onto a stool with a soft sigh of relief. As he leaned back against the cool wall, someone walking between him and the fireplace caught his attention. Turning his head, he found himself looking at a human female, her features etched with a mix of curiosity and concern.
"Excuse me," the woman said, her voice hesitant. "I do not mean to intrude. I am Erasma."
Malachi studied her for a moment, his crystalline features betraying no emotion. "Erasma," he acknowledged, his tone neutral. "You got a question or just want to stare at the Pellucid?"
Erasma took a step closer, her expression earnest. "I heard you were a Nomad on a hunt. I may have information about the smuggler you're searching for - Kwame Devine. I've met him a few times, back when I was working the spaceport docks. Rumor has it the Targ Cartel forced him to carry a shipment into Old Empire space, under threat of taking away his cargo ship."
Malachi's brow furrowed slightly and he leaned forward on the stool, his interest piqued. "Go on," he prompted, his voice low.
"Well, it's said that the shipment didn't go as planned," Erasma continued, her gaze dropping momentarily. "That Kwame jettisoned the cargo to avoid capture, and the Cartel has been hunting him ever since. They want him to pay for the lost goods."
Malachi nodded, hoping this woman had the information he needed. "And you know where I might find him?"
Erasma hesitated, her eyes darting around the room. "Well, no." she admitted. "Sorry, but I had hoped that maybe this information would grant Kwame some leniency when you find him. He really is not a bad person, just mixed up with the wrong people."
Malachi slumped back against the wall and considered her words, "Well that will be up to him. He can surrender peacefully to avoid any injury."
Erasma still looked concerned. "But won't the Cartel hurt him if you turn him in?"
Malachi spoke bluntly, his expression unreadable. "My only job is to complete the contract and bring him in, nothing more."
---
This fan fiction was generated from my playthrough of Notorious.
You can find my review of Notorious here.
You can find Notorious through this affiliate link if you want to force Drive Thru RPG to give me some pennies when you buy something.
Comments
Post a Comment