Creatures & Inhabitants

Wulfen in Society

Wulfen are not treated well in Sokal. Maybe as a leftover from dogs' subservience in the time before the Fall or as a result of their rapid aging they tend to be regarded as gormless and childish. Being treated like this doesn't give them much reason to try to learn, however, so in most parts of Sokal it creates a self reinforcing cycle of Wulfen ending up on the bottom of the social pecking order.

In today's society, this would be unfair. After the Fall it becomes downright dangerous for Wulfen. In most cases, disrespectful behavior toward Wulfen is normal. Wulfen are typically the last to get their shares of food, ammo, and equipment in groups where they are accepted. If there's a Bandit raid or similar altercation Wulfen are typically shot rather then taken in. Even in progressive leaning settlements and organizations Wulfen aren't given the same respect as other races. If a settlement operates on a democracy Wulfen aren't allowed to vote, or vote at reduced capacity.

Wulfen on the outskirts of society are treated even worse. Seen as close to feral and uncontrollable, any outbursts or even the slightest bit of displayed anger from these Wulfen is met with almost immediate violence. Anything beyond this and they can expect to be executed in the street and no one would bat an eyelash.

Wulfen Physiology

Wulfen, being half dog and half human, age differently from humans and human adjacent creatures. Wulfen will age like a human until they hit late human puberty. Around sixteen or seventeen years of age they will begin to age at an accelerated rate. The average Wulfen lives to about thirty five with very few making it past forty. This accelerated aging also brings certain benefits however. Wulfen are physically stronger, faster, and more capable than their human counterparts.

Spirits are to be taken very seriously.

Poe sat in the burned out carcass of some strange hybrid of a car and a house. Maya called it a "camper" but Poe could never remember that. To most people it would look like Poe was staring pointlessly at the rotted out bed in the back of camper. But to those with The Sight, it would be a very different view.

In front of her, in the Astral but also enough, in reality, to be seen, sat the Spirit. She called it Rattlebones, for Spirits didn't typically communicate with speech as mortals perceived it and therefore didn't use names. Rattlebones was a powerful Spirit for sure. One that she had communicated with many times seeking advice and prophecy. Not all Spirits could provide these things, but Rattlebones could. It did though, ask a high price for such things.

In this instance, she had fasted for several days. Denied herself food and even sunlight before summoning the Spirit. Now that it was here she had locked gaze with it for several hours. Finally it gestures to her, grasping at her with it bony outstretched.... whatever passed for a hand. She reached into her satchel, careful not to break her gaze with it, and produced a rabbit skull. That had been hard to find for it was a perfect specimen free of mutations.

Vines and cables stretched from Rattlebones appendage and ensnared the perfect skull. Drawing it out of the physical plane and into Rattlebones "body". Soon Poe could see the little skull peaking out of Rattlebones' shoulder, staring at her, she could have sworn she could see eyes in the empty sockets.

A dry whisper croak from one of the skulls. "You may ask.... two.... questions."

This was unusual. It was is usually three questions, but that was okay, she only really needed two.

"Where can we go for safety from the ones under the Atom Banner?" She spoke, she had to phrase that carefully. Asking for absolute safety was always met with cryptic half answers that she could do nothing with.

The air, for once, didn't stink. Instead, it was full of that cloying, fatty scent of grilling meat. VictoryVille was easy to navigate by scent alone. The different parts of the market all had their unique stench. The lead pressers and pain dealers booths smelled like black powder and dried blood. The taverns reeked of whatever blindness inducing, throat scalding, radiator fluid they were calling hooch that day, also stale piss. The brothels smelled like sweaty sex and drying body fluids. The Pusher's tents sat in a miasma of analgesics and many going their elected to throw on their goggles and gas masks to avoid losing their teeth to a deep inhalation. But the nom-mongers, the nom-mongers booths smelled.... Well not appetizing, they could still smell the attempts to cook off the rot. But it definitely smelt better than the eye burning chemical haze. Also, Hahmbra was hungry and even the slightly putrid smell of barbecued.... meat, was making their mouth water.

A brief bit of haggling and Hahmbra slipped the nom-monger a baby food jar that containing a quarter of a dried mushroom cap. This was a Followers of M specialty. The Journey Shrooms were famous all over the wastes for their mind expanding properties. As valuable as it was, food was scarce in VictoryVille thanks to the Atom Bombz rolling through. It was enough to secure two sticks loaded with dripping meat from some sort of creature. Hahmbra pranced off with their bounty, colorful scarves flowing in the meaty breeze.

They loved it. All of it was gritty, dirty, real. Ojai Grahla was a special place for sure. While they would return their one day, they'd have a new appreciation of it after having spent some time in what had to be the asshole of Sokal. This was an experience.

Every part of Sokal has it's secret. Some of them can get you killed.

It was late afternoon. The sun peeked over the long NorKal horizon line casting it's last baleful rays over the baked clay of the valley like a broken microwave. A haze of irradiated heat caused a the burnt remains of telephone poles, trees, and the crucified remains Kingdom of Garlic serfs who had looked at the King funny to dance in the heat like they were on the stage of the FUBAR and it was 2 for 1 topless night. It was unpleasantly hot and muggy even by Norkal standards, like the inside of well worn leather assed chaps, also during 2 for 1 topless night.

Smoker sat on the rock out cropping. He found himself doing something he hated, once again, waiting. Waiting was something other people should be doing for *him* the way he saw it. He was the one with rep for miles and a list of deals long as a grizz-alope's barbed dick after all.

But for once, he didn't mind. He'd been asked a favor by a Follower. They always found ways to make his time worth it. Be it chems, smokes, the old "hot yoga", whatever. They found a way.

It wasn't an easy favor either. Visitors were allowed in and out of the Kingdom of Garlic at the King's discretion. But the serfs NEVER were allowed out. So getting a small handful out..... Well that was worth a lot of chems, smokes, and "hot yoga", details to be agreed upon.

Smoker pulled out his binocs and scanned the path out of the Kingdom he'd staked out. It was getting close to twilight and he was getting antsy. The timing had to be precise if his plan was going to work and he'd signalled them at just the right time. There, there they were, three of them approaching the guard point on foot just like they said. He glanced at the watch on his wrist. It's cracked but still priceless face matched up with his plan.

by Samuel Anthony Reilly Stark

We had been sitting in those damnable bushes for hours with our vision specs, and itched. My faced itched from the branches and my arm itched because we were about to do something monumentally dangerous.

"Alright Boss, those scouts we hired don't seem to have gone gringo on us. Those bandits are definitely prepping to go out on a large scale raid in a few hours. They shouldn't be back until tomorrow. Once they are gone we can get in there and free those people they took captive. Easy peasy." I didn't believe my own pep talk, and Max sure as Susan didn't either. Believe me, Susan was the cockiest most opinionated bastard I knew. He never backed down without a fight, and this was his plan.

The plan was simple really. Wait for an hour or two after they leave. Sneak or talk our way in. Start a fire wherever they go to take a crap. That will be the signal to take out the bandit guards up on the walls with arrows so fewer of the bandits are alerted. From there we would just need to find the captives and book it out of there. What could go wrong?

Sand.

Sand blowing around like a tornado that had no business being where it was is what went wrong. And I hate sand. It gets into everything. Your noms, your eyes, your mouth, your gear, and especially the delicate inner workings of machines. The sand storm must have been a spirit who summoned the wind, because it was a clear orange sky not an hour earlier. Then again what do I know about spirits?