Notes

Рио Повстанец
#4400
Putting the Sexy in Sexialism


genard the bardToday at 2:48 AM
This are the chronicles of the I.B.F., as told by the scribe Andrew The Deceiver in a forgotten age, on a forgotten planet and on a ravaged continent known only as Kenshi.
From left to right:
Andrew The Deceiver
Keegan The Vile
Genaro The Bastard
Ahmed The Brute
Kevin The Mistake
Taylor The Eboy

Their adventure begins in the southern region of the continent, in a small Tech Hunter waystation, south of the United Cities town of Clownsteady.
With a determination formed only by their comradery, the I.B.F. sets foot to what became a legend worthy of an epic.

Lacking a home, the group found it necessary to make camp in a safe zone where the United Cities slaver parties would not stumble upon them in their sleep, that is when they settled on a small hill, overlooking the endless ocean and accompanied by a group of Mercenaries who had made an equal but temporary decision.
Within minutes of arriving, the comrades began gathering resources.

With the need of shelter and having just left the safety of a well guarded waystation, they saw no issue with overseeing the necessity of sleep.

It was during this time when Taylor The Eboy was sent on a scouting mission to the previously neighboring town of Clownsteady.

The town had been strategically placed on a small elevation surrounded by water for the exception of 2 narrow passages divided by a mountain., creating a natural defense in the form of a moat. with only 2 bridges allowing passage into the stronghold.

During his recon op, Taylor found nothing that would make this town different from others, it had a jail that would always be open for slavers to come and pick any poor devil they pleased, a general store, a tech store and a bar, where drifters met with retired soldiers and peasants drank their problems away.

genard the bardToday at 3:17 AM
But one of the three towers was not owned by the United Cities, nor one of it's citizens, but instead it was guarded by a single hiver, a very particular one, this hiver wore rags around his shoulders, exposing it's naked chest and stomach, the only form of protection came in the shape of a couple of plates covering it's right arm, a rag tied around it's head occulted it's identity and a pair of pitch black pants partially hid it's narrow stick legs, but what made this hiver unique was that unlike it's golden or pink relatives, this one was black, it's antenna was black, it's hands were black, in fact, the only non black thing was it's white belly, which alongside it's choice of armor made it seem like a deliberate target, one it hoped you would aim for.

the hiver offered a deal to Taylor, for 10 thousand cattan credits, he would welcome him and the I.B.F. into their ranks, this included the benefit of using their training equipment and a 50% discount on their apparel and weapons.
Taylor said he would discuss it with the rest and, saying goodbye, he made his track back to the hill they had chosen to call home for now.
During his time at Clownsteady, the group had managed to start a campfire, build multiple beds out of dead leaves and construct a woodworking station, but Andrew was excused from this rough labor as he deemed researching future technologies more valuable than immediate shelter.

At some point, Keegan's feeble bones began to ache, and he decided to take a couple of the logs the others had work so hard to gather and turn them into seats for him and his feet.

But one of the Mercs, a Shek, saw the second seat as an invitation to gather around the campfire and share the company provided by the Vile Keegan.

Uncapable of standing for his greedy ways against a fully cladded warrior, he decided, through humps and puffs, that the Shek could have the seat he had intended for his feet to take.
As the night continued, Andrew decided he could take a break from the arduous task that is reading survival books and took to the leave pile, hoping to awake to another day of unbearable labor while the others played with axes and hacksaws.
But when he awoke, he saw none of his fellow comrades, but only a badly written note, stained by the horrid handwriting of the bastard Genaro that attempted to communicate their decision to scout for a better location, where they had access to water and thus food in the form of small critters they could catch with the help of traps.
Andrew sat there, overhearing the chatter between the mercenaries, the distant waves in the ocean and the salted breeze it was accompanied of, but as the minutes passed a fourth sound introduced itself.

genard the bardToday at 3:43 AM
Sneakily, like the legendary Luquin, it kept creeping in, getting closer and closer until Andrew was able to decipher what it entailed, the stomping of boots, the shaking of bolts against each other in the inside of a quiver, the clacking of a mace against the leg plates of it's wilder.
Slavers.
Andrew jumped to his feet and quickly began disassembling the woodworking station, gathering the irreplaceable and scattering the leaves with one foot while the other gave him support as he peed on the campfire out of fear, in hopes it would eliminate all traces the slavers could use to find him and his fellow comrades.
The horror became a reality when he saw them.

Coming closer.
There was only one thing left on the once camp, one thing he could not take.
The seat for Keegan's feet.
And with absolute terror in his chest, which in return was pushing his heart out of it
He left.

The attack caught the mercenaries by surprise, and the same thing could be said about the slavers, they were expecting a small group of unskilled vagrants that would make for ideal slaves, not a brigade of armor cladded mercenaries who would make perfect slaves.

Within seconds of the first contact, bodies were already hitting the ground.

Some covered in worn, scarred armor.

Others, covered in rags and weighed down by eager slave collars.

But the last body to hit the ground would be one covered in armor
But weighed down by said collars.

The mercenaries had won, although some were badly wounded, their bruises and cuts were more than worth their freedom.

When Andrew returned, he was heavily relieved to see his cowardice had not costed the brave soldiers of fortune their freedom. And so, he shamelessly began to gather as many supplies as he could from the dying slavers. At least those that would not put a giant target on his head unlike Genaro.

One of the slavers took this opportunity to crawl it's way to safety, leaving behind a trail of yellow blood in a mix with sand.

But it was at this time that the I.B.F. had just finished their reconnaissance trip. And Kevin The Mistake decided to demonstrate why he was not named Merciful.



The Slaver attempted to defend itself.

But Kevin was able to doge the attack.

The battle continued for hours.
An evening was sacrificed until, through valor, determination and a courage that would send Gutters running in fear.
The Slaver fended off Kevin.

But it's victory is not long lived, as once the mistake awoke and alerted the rest of the group of the rogue slaver it learned that the collective power of the I.B.F. was more than capable of defeating a cripple.



genard the bardToday at 5:18 PM
Chapter 2: Running With Broken Legs
Shortly After Kevin's triumphant defeat of the slaver scum, he decided to celebrate it by taking a day off at the nearest Waystation, where grog ran in rivers and the dried gristles were always available.

But downstairs, the party mourned over the loss of their short lived camp, their home. Due to a lack of funds and the pending danger a party of slavers would stop by for a refresher with the bonus of their intended target, the decision was made that Genaro would scout for a new home while the rest stayed back and made sure no boogeyman crept from the shadows and snatched Kevin in his sleep. Once Kevin was in walking shape, they would follow the Bastard's track and join him.

It took the Bastard a day of roaming, sneaking by slaver parties and swimming across rivers until he came across a suitable site for their new center of operations.
It wasn't until a golden path was laid for him when he laid eyes upon the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

Hidden in plain sight by the vast of rivers, oasis and hills, laid the most peaceful and tranquil spot of land his warped feet had laid upon.
A minuscule peninsula at the very edge of the continent gave the sense of a boat following a frigate by a simple cord of rope, one that at any second could detach itself, leaving the boat to carry it's own destiny, under it's own rules and by it's own merits.
At the very edge of the coast was a tree which, alongside a smaller one, formed an arc penetrated by the rising sun, a signal of hope and new beginnings. It was a soothing experienced that filled Genaro with vigor, so much that he began construction faster than a deadcat could scream Cannibal.


genard the bardToday at 6:15 PM
But the Bastard was not alone, not far from him was a mercenary camp, from it emanated a sense of humbleness, a melancholy that, combined with the euphoric high finding a new home had brought him, reminded him of his loss while also making sure his chin was up and ready for the difficulties ahead, for even the darkest nights are followed by the brightest mornings.

Two days had passed since the Bastard had left and Kevin was fueled by a need to go out and snap another pair of legs, wanting not to bother explaining to him that he had far from won his last encounter to a fighter weaker than him, the rest of the party agreed that it was time to leave and follow Genaro's tracks, quickly too, as the rain presented a risk of erasing any mark of them.

But as soon as the muscles of their legs tensed and their frowns formed, the rain stopped, almost as if the world understood how much they needed the slightest glimpse of hope.

Along their journey they saw what seemed to be a mountain surrounded by a multitude of sharp rock formations, the likes of which the mountain was formed of too. But taking a longer look they noticed they were way too shiny to be simple stone.
This thought's were interrupted by the slaver party moving by their west. They decided that staying low and rushing in the opposite direction was the best course of action.

Through their travels they saw many things that are only possible to be witnessed outside the gates of the United Cities.
They saw a free Southern Hiver who wore pants, a rare sight as they are usually too busy killing drifters in the name of their king.

They saw the town of Drifter's last, the furthest south United Cities town.

They saw towering grasslands that could hide an entire battalion of fully fitted samurai.

They saw what remained of a party of Rebel Farmers who though they could take on seasoned mercenaries.

But as the party continued to close distance to Genaro, Taylor was stopped by a familiar sight.

Just like the Shinobi Thieve boss he had talked to, this Hiver was black too, it's hands were black, it's stick legs were black, even it's eyes were black. But unlike the thieve, this one kept it's soft, white belly hidden from sight.
But Taylor's study of this new Hiver race was interrupted by the loud cheers coming from his comrades as they reunited with the Bastard.
Between all the progress Genaro had made, the beautiful setting of the sun and the celebrating, laid the Eboy's curiosity surrounding this new race of Hiver's.
He couldn't help but wonder where they came from, who their queen was and how long ago they had begun incorporating themselves amongst the numerous faction's of Kenshi.
He tried to let this thoughts take their leave by looking to his new surroundings, the beauty of their peninsula was sadly stained by the bodies of the Rebel Farmer party the mercenaries had given rest.

He noticed a shine amongst them, something was reflecting the sun's light. As he approached it, he noticed the body of one of the farmers had a heart protector, a light if unreliable armor that covered half of the chest but was better than nothing, he took it and noticed it's previous owner.

andrew yang 三日月・オーガス pinned a message to this channel. See all the pins.Today at 6:52 PM
andrew yang 三日月・オーガス pinned a message to this channel. See all the pins.Today at 6:52 PM

genard the bardToday at 6:57 PM
The flood of questions was stopped by the bark coming from the Brute ordering him to start working. And so he did, But the landscape of tasks were not enough to push the previous questions out, he still had enough curiosity in his mind to kill 3 generations of lizard birds.
For the next couple of days, the I.B.F. would work under the scorching sun for hours on end. The Brute, the Bastard and the Mistake worked on the wood gathered off the tree, turning it into lumber and sticks while the Deceiver researched ways to turn this into weapon's, eventually creating a hunter's crossbow. Alongside learning how to turn leather into apparel.

The Vile and the Eboy constructed traps to catch small critters they could then butcher for meat to ensure the woodworkers never went hungry.

Genaro The BastardToday at 7:08 PM
But the deceiver's research was not cheap, for every new technology he looked into, the price for translating it from paper to a reality rose, eventually the cats ran dry and the Bastard was forced to scavenge the nearby ruins for materials.
His first target laid to the northwest of the station, on an abandoned city previously owned by the United Cities. He hopped to encounter steel bars, for those were the most expensive items required for research that had caused the to run dry.
As he climbed the last hill overseeing the now abandoned town, the Bastard quickly dropped to his knees, for his eyes had ordered to do so.

Ahead of him walked the three most warped, horrid creatures he had ever seen. Their body laid suspended in air, supported by 4 long, narrow legs, to their front hanged a pair of claws used to carry flesh from their victims to their face, which was home of 2 black eyes, void of life.


The Bastard attempted to sneak by the monstrosities, but these took notice of him and rushed towards him, he jumped into the river and began flailing his arms and legs in the hopes this would boost him to the other side of it, away from these rotten disgraces of life.

When he reached the other side, he rushed towards the town, hoping he could loose them between the ruins.

Eventually, the Bastard's plan worked and the monstrosities left him to search for a slower form of food.

As the Bastard scavenged the town with the fear a horde of those spits in the face of mother nature arrived, a Shek arrived to town, but unlike him, he was not there to scavenge any remains of a once thriving city, whatever it's purpose was, it was made clear when him and the Bastard made eye contact that one of them was not planning on leaving alive.

As the Bastard left, he pondered on what the purpose of that Shek was, why would one such as him roam a land littered by such monstrosities protected only by cloth and a katana, what could cause such a dead wish?
It was a question he asked himself as he left the town and until he arrived to camp.

As the Bastard arrived home, he noticed he was not the only one. An imposing combination of metal alloys and hydraulic presses made it's way to town, accompanied by a pair of cladded samurai.

The Hydraulic Samurai demanded the attention of all of those in camp, as the Bastard was the only one awake, he decided to respond to the call.

The Samurai presented itself as a tax collector and demanded a payment of 3000 cats, he claimed it was in return of clearing the land and allowing the vagrant's, the I.B.F., to use the land they had secured. When the Bastard explained they were not able to pay the amount demanded the Samurai barked back.

It carefully explained the Bastard that they had 3 days to gather the quantity demanded, otherwise they would know firsthand the United Cities were not a charitable government.