((OOC: Short post in short))

Stephen had arrived at Bucket-town the day before, having being dropped off by Joshua the day prior. It had caused quite a site amongst the guards, with Joshua simply helping Stephen off the horse before speeding off into the wasteland again. The guards had their eyes on Stephen the rest of the day, with at least one following him around as he got acquainted with the town. Stephen had fallen asleep, propped up against the place they call “BoBo’s”. Stephen had spent most of this day trying to find a job, only to find that most of the places around here had already hired someone else. With night falling once again, Stephen looked for somewhere to sleep. Propping himself up against a smaller shack, Stephen curled up into a ball and attempted to go to sleep; if it wasn’t for the racket that emitted from the brothel.

In lieu of sleep, Stephen thought. He mostly thought about what went wrong during the battle against Duke Teach. What he could have done in order to prevent the needless waste of so many men. If he ever had the chance to, he would have to visit the LaValley hamlet in order to see what happened. And to apologize to the families who had lost a son, a father or a brother. Those few soldiers that managed to escape the slaughter are problay being sold off into slavery right now, or, dead. Either choice had a high chance of happening.

Jackson limped into Bucket Town, his dog Sapphire at his side. He looked around the town, and was reminded of the biblical stories of Sodom and Gomorrah. People lived in squalor, women were selling themselves to the highest bidder, people were laying on the ground drunk, or dead. Jackson was astonished at the way these people were living, and how this town had survived. Jack hadn't seen anything like Bucket Town, he was used to a much more civilized population, and had no idea how bad people had it in the wasteland. Families were starving, children crying, Jack wanted to help the people so much, but there was nothing that he could do.

Jackson had walked through the whole town, and he was disgusted by what he saw. He wondered how God had let the town go on like this. He began to feel woozy, and decided to find somewhere he could sleep, and try to forget about what he had seen. He saw a place that was well lit, and decided he would sleep there. "La Ranchero", a brothel in town. He laid up against a wall, and curled up with his dog, he heard a loud moaning noise, and tried to close it out. He said a prayer, for himself, and for the people of this town, and fell into the sweet relief that is sleep.

Two men and one woman walked through the night, quietly and carefully navigating the generally quiet night streets of Bucket Town. Although there was an occasional wandering drunk or other commotion on the street, it was generally calm. They where all three dressed rather planely, although oddly for the area. None of them seemed paticularly well dressed for the desert, although they all seemed capable enough.

The woman spoke up, stifling her own voice to avoid any listening in. The group was rather close to the warmly lit, and slightly noisey brothel of the outpost town. "Look, I know it isn't the best idea, but what else are we supposed to do? We have barely a day left and they could be hiding out anywhere in the great dunes."

One of the men, clearly the eldest of the three, replied in a rough voice. "I agree with her. Besides, if we take one of these chem-heads or bums, we're practically doing them a service. When I was in that place, I would've given anything for a few meals and a safe place to sleep."

The third, who seemed to be a young man, retorted half heartedly. "So the real debts get payed off by these guys and the others get off scott free? Just doesn't seem fair!" A harsh look from both of the others eventually made him relent, although not all the way. "Well, how will we get them to pass off anyways? I see one guy here by the brothel, and I saw one at the small house just back there. I'm no expert, but neither one looks asian to me, and it'll be some trick passing one of them off as some sort of prize pitfighter. Besides, how do we convince them to join without making a fuss? This is a horrible plan!"

The woman spoke up again, this time firmer. "We'll just give them some bogus stories about their debts. Figure out who they are and claim that they lost confederate goods or something, and tell them they can pay immediately to join. Nobody gets hurt, and everything works smoothly. Besides, we're the only ones who got these debt claims, so nobody will be any wiser."

The older man nodded, as did the younger one (although less enthusiatically) and they prepared to carry out the plan.

Jack woke up to the sound of Sapphire growling. "Whats wrong girl? Someone out there?" Jack sat up and looked at his watch "4 in the morning Sapphire? This had better not be some rat or something." He stood up and looked around, Sapphire was still growling in the dark behind him. "Hello? Anyone there? My dog can hear you." Jack looked around for a few minutes, and decided that his dog was just imagining something, or maybe a rat had scurried by, but nothing for him to worry about. He turned around and faced his dog "See Sapphire, there was nothing to worry abou-" Jack was hit hard in the head, and fell to the floor, unconscious. Sapphire lept at the man responsible for the blow, and was knocked out too.

"Where am I?" Jack looked around his surroundings, he was in a small room with his dog, and another man lying in the corner. The room had a table with a few chairs pulled up next to it. Jack looked around for his belongings, but didn't see them anywhere. "Hello? Is anybody out there!? Where have you taken me!? Why have you taken me!?" Jack began to break down in tears. Why did this have to happen to him. He wiped the tears away from his eyes, and began to put his trust in god. He was sure that good had a plan for him, and that if this was what he planned to happen, this is what would happen. He began to pray for himself, his dog, and the strange man lying in the corner.

Stephen was on the verge of sleep when he felt someone's foot kick him in the side. Stephen was jolted awake, forcing his still-sleepy eyes over in the direction of the kick. Another kick found it's way onto Stephen, this time striking him in the leg. He could hear hushed murmurs, before another solid kick was delivered.

"WHAT?!?!" Stephen shouted, standing up to his two feet. "CAN'T YOU SEE THAT I'M TRYING TO FUCKING SLEEP?!?!" Stephen shouted again, waving his hands in the direction of where he was propped up. "GOD-FUCKING-DAMNIT! I WAS NEARLY FUCKING ASLEEP TOO." Stephen said, continuing his verbal outpour on the man and the women who had kicked him awake.

Turning away from them for a moment, Stephen saw someone getting clubbed on the back of the head. Turning back towards the man and the women, he was about to say something when he saw the man raise a club upwards to strike him on the head as well. Shooting towards his legs, Stephen wrapped his arms around that man's legs and drove him down to the ground.

Pulling out his engraved field knife, the same one that his family originally used in order to become Blue blood knights, Stephen held it to the man's throat. The man who had attempted to club him stopped resisting for a moment, before looking behind Stephen with a degree of happiness.

"Whats so fun-" Stephen attempted to say before a club fell down on the back of his head. This was quickly becoming a routine.

[x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x][x]

Stephen woke up to find a canvas sack overtop his head, his legs bound together and his hands handcuffed behind his back. That, and somebody would not stop crying at all. Shifting his head around, Stephen attempted to wiggle around a little in an attempt to be sitting up against the wall.

Breathing slowly and calmly, Stephen simply just waited. Considering that he wasn't dead yet meant that he would either be sold off as a slave. For all Stephen knew, this could be some of Duke Teach's hired goons after him. Either way, Stephen just waited for something to happen. And for this kid to stop goddamn crying all the time.

Jackson dried up his tears and stopped crying, he knew that God had a plan, and that if God allowed this to happen, there was a reason. He saw the man in the corner stir. The man was about an inch shorter than Jack, by the looks of it, and was quite pale. He decided that he would try to speak with him. "Hey, you over there. Do you know where we are? Why they took us?" Jackson stopped talking when a man entered the room. He was wearing some kind of uniform, and had a sword on his side. He looked a lot like an officer of some sort. "Who are you? Why have you taken us? Where are we?"

((OOC) Really short post is really short)

"Just go in there and do it. You're the most authoritive looking of us. This is another order." The woman was stern and focused. The older gentlemen from before was weary looking, although he complied. "It's funny I'm the one playing the superior, huh boss?" The woman didn't appreciate the joke and nearly pushed the man into the closed room.

"We don't have time for this right now. It's nearly morning, and Walter's is supposed to leave soon. We have to get them to go along with the story, get out of this ruined ass house, and wash our hands of this." The younger man was half asleep and just seemed to watch the events in a daze from a chair not far away.

"This sword is wood! How the hell am I supposed to play it like I'm some big timer? They'll notice it, easily." The woman didn't speak anymore, instead just pushing him into the room. He stumbled in in a panic, although he quickly regained his composure and his balance. The plan was half baked at best, although it was the only idea they could come up with that didn't involve any strongarming or other terribly unscrupulous practices. His job was to attempt to somehow trick the two of them into joining up and offering service.

"So, just to confirm-" he removed the hood off of one of the two men. "who are you two? What's your status?"

Stephen heard a door open and a moment later he felt the sack ripped off his head. Blinking in the sudden adjustment to the well-lit room (compared to the sack that he just had on his head), Stephen was greeted by the sight of an older fellow peering down at him. Glancing around the room, Stephen's attention was brought back to the older man when he heard him speak.

"Well." Stephen said, stretching his arms slighty. During that brief moment of stretching, Stephen tested the bonds that held his hands behind his back. They were heavy rope, and the more Stephen squirmed in them the tighter they clenched around his wrist. Stephen quickly gave up messing with his bonds. "I'm Stephen LaValley. My father is Claude LaValley. I'm a Knight in service of Baron Horton up in Northern Texas on a very important mission." Stephen said, making up a lie as he went along. Stephen assumed that the man gripping a wooden sword was a slaver. If Stephen could convince him that Baron Horton could pay for his release, maybe then he could figure out a way to escape.

"Now, listen. Baron Horton would hate to see one of his men getting banged up like this, yeah? He'd be willing to pay for my release." Stephen contiuned. Of course, he wasn't even sure if Baron Horton was still alive for that matter. For all Stephen knew, he could be the last surviving Knight that formerly served Barton Horton. Which wouldn't be good, considering that he would need someone to send money along to pay for his ransom.

Or, what if these weren't slavers? What if these were Duke Teach's men and they nabbed the crying kid to make it seem like a slave raid or they didn't want a witness? What if these were just town guards wondering what two guys were out sleeping on their streets were doing? Or, or, what if these were just a bunch of raiders who want to play with their foes before finishing them off? Stephen's head swam with possibilities, with each one getting worse and worse.

The man thought quickly - he'd never moved far through the Confederate rank, constantly under some younger recruit, like he was currently with the shrewd woman. He'd imagined she'd risen to captain so quickly through more 'hands on' methods then most. His lack of rank, however, didn't mean he wasn't clever, and that he wasn't experienced. Nearly eight years of loan sharking in Georgia had more then helped his skills with the spoken word.

"Well, " he acted as though he was thinking back, "that means we at least got one of the right people. Whether you've realized it or not," the man drew from bits of rumors he'd heard on the way west. Although he mostly ignored the chatter of locals, it was hard not to pick up at least some news, and he new that wherever or whatever the hell Northern Texas was, it was full of all the old feudal warlords, like the ones he'd heard formed the original confederacy.

"your little fiefdom borrowed more then a small amount of old weaponry from the Confederate Remnant. With the debt already incurred, well, and the alive-or-dead status of your patriarch unknown, we're over a barrel. You can have this Baron you talk about pay it off, but until then you're looking at service in the Western Confederate Debt army."

The man smiled smugly to himself. It had been a long time since he'd had the chance to work his brain that way. He moved on to the next target, hoping he would be able to work off of his first lie, or at least wrap another one. He turned to the formerly sobbing man.

"Well? What about you?"

Jack was still drying the tears off of his face when the man walked over to Jack. He was an old man, and had white hair and a lot of wrinkles. Jack looked up at the man asking him the question. "Me, I'm nobody, there's no way I could be in debt to you. I'm no solidier, and I don't work for anybody, I'm just a repairman from a small town to the south called Cherryltown. Both of my parents are dead, and I have no ties to anyone in the wasteland. I'm alone out here, except for my dog here."

Jack looked the man over again, and noticed that the sword that the man had on his side, was made of wood and couldn't do him much harm. He tried to squirm out of his bonds, but to no avail, the rope was to strong. "Look, there is no way I can help your army, I have no prior experience, and I don't owe you any debts. Please, just let me go."

Jack began to think of ways to bargain with the man. "Look, if you want anything, just take it out of my rucksack, I'm sure something in there is worth a sum of money to someone." He began to think of what the man had said about being a" Confederate". Jack had heard that name before, somewhere. Jack thought back to when he was taught history, and remembered that the Confederacy was a group of states that seceded from the United States, because they wanted to keep slaves. Jack wondered if this man was going to force him to work as a slave.

Jack began to pray once more, and waited for the man's response. He thought about Cherryltown, and was beginning to regret ever leaving. He began to sob once more, but quickly held the tears back and calmed down. He put his trust in god once again, after all, it had never failed him before.

The man felt uncomfortable in the trapped heat of what he guessed had once been a cellar. The jacket of his uniform, like many confederate pieces, was a quickly and simply modified grey charcoal suit, stripped of most confining elements. Anybody terribly knowledgable in the confederacy would've called his bluff, seeing as how the ends of his sleeves hadn't had large embellishments added.

The younger man was clearly far less stable, and he immediately recognized his subtle expression and body language as some form of praying. Unlike the feudalist, this man was clearly not the type for battle, although his dog looked as though it'd seen fights before. He attacked the man from all three angles.

"Well, I'm afraid your debt is likely larger then anything your equipment would pay, and besides, the Confederacy has a warrent out for your arrest. Someone matching your description's dog killed multiple head of homesteader livestock to the east."

It was another lie, on both counts. The confederacy rarely interfeared in the everyday lives of it's citizens, and even so, it would take far more proof to do anything if it was an actual government warrent. The story was layed, although shakily, and now it was time to try and soften the reality of it.

"I wouldn't worry about combat, though son. You know a third of the army is people like you and me. Repairmen, diplomats, training officers, are just important to us as anything else. If you proove yourself as a mechanic, you'll likely never even see combat. And if you do, you'll know you'll be fighting for God and man's personal freedom."

Stephen leaned back against the wall when the soldier had told him about how Baron Horton had borrowed some old weaponry from the Confederacy. He was wondering how he had managed to get so many lever-actions in such a short period of time without talking to any major trader. And now Stephen, the good soldier, got to pay the price. Stephen thought back to what his dad said, about how he shouldn't have gone on the campaign. As it turns out, it has some far reaching consequences.

Breathing in through his nose, Stephen simply just looked over to the formely crying man. Looks like his dog had been causing some trouble and now he was in the Confederate army as well. Both of them had just been pressganged. Stephen had never imagined that he would be the one press ganged into the army, although Stephen had press ganged plenty of people into Baron Horton's forces over the years. Biting his lower lip in an attempt to think of an escape, he couldn't. He was Baron Hortons man. He represented him. If he tried to weasel himself out of this, what would they think of Baron Horton?

"So. Where are we going to be assigned then?" Stephen asked quietly, looking up to the older man.

((I guess close the RP? Seems like we have everything we need done here))

((OOC)Yeah, go ahead and close it. I wont be able to start the next one until about the 16th though, so see you then.)

"We'll depart and arrive at Walter's camp shortly. Until then, get fitted in these uniforms. They're some extras we found lying around - so they might not fit perfectly, but shit, they're supposed to be made so that one size fits all anyways." The man grunted as he lead both of you out to met both the woman and the younger man.

The woman helped distribute this relatively simple clothes, although she was careful to warn both of you.

"Don't lose these, or rip them up, either. Because you will be charged for them."