Chapter 1: Unforgiving

"Fucking hell."

Slumping back to the desert floor, Raze muttered a curse, half intended for the people who left him in his current situation, and half for the situation itsef.

Rifling through his clothes, Raze found the inevitable truth waiting for anyone jumped by bandits.

'Ahh shit, outta bandages and no grits to buy 'em with. Just as i thought my life couldnt get any fuckin' worse i get mobbed by a buncha starvers.'

Spitting out a mix of phlegm and blood, Raze found that there was nowhere on his body that wasn't cut, bruised or broken.

Letting out a laugh tinged with self-mockery, his bloodstained, dusty face twisted into what seemed like a bitter smile.

'Dead broke, half-dead and lost in the middle of fucking no-where. What a truly fantastic beginning to the new life i was supposed to start after ditchin' those collectors. Fuck am i gonna do now?'

He went through his clothes again, holding onto the vain hope that a horde of scavengers would somehow be stupid enough to miss something.

Unsuprisingly, there was nothing.

Anything left was obviously not worth taking.

'Least I survived though, good for me.'

Summoning up whatever scraps of strength he had, Raze managed to finally stagger to his feet, wiping away the blood smearing his eyes, he looked all around him.

In front, nothing.

Behind, Nothing.

Left, nothing.

Right, Nothing.

There was nothing in his sight except dull yellow sand, shimmering faintly under the glow of the twin suns.

Looking down at his clothes, he noted that his thin rag shirt was hanging by threads, offering no protection from neither man, beast nor elements.

'Can't imagine this'll be much help anymore'

Sitting back down, Raze stripped off the shirt.Tearing the already ragged shirt into scraps of fabric that he hoped could be used as makeshift bandages.

Stopping ocassionally to tie scraps of fabric together in order to make longer strips, or cut them in order to add knots, Raze was eventually able to bandage most of his wounds with the fabric scraps.

While bleeding out was no longer as major a concern, he did have to consider infections from his not-so clean garments.

Making up his mind, Raze stood up once again finally deciding to move. After choosing a direction, he began to hobble straight ahead, hoping that he could find a town, or at least someone to threaten for money or supplies.

'At least those scav fuckers didnt loot my club, probably wasn't even worth the effort takin' it back'

Calling it a club was an immense compliment. It was a chunk of rusted metal, with the "handle" part painstakingly ground down, so it could be swung easier. Of course, it did one thing well. It fucking hurt.

Limping across the barren desert, the vigor in Raze's legs began to wane, the numbness that distracted him from the pain slowly faded, and tingling pains, like his calves were being pierced by countless needles began to set in.

The only ways he could tell that time was actually passing, was through the motion of the suns crawling slowly across the afternoon sky, or the feeling of sweat pouring down his skin, a feeling that remined him of the most urgent reason to find some signs of life.

Water.

Raze needed a plan, and fast. If he didnt find a town, or someone to "borrow" water from, his prospects would be grim.

Supressing his anxiety, he re-doubled his efforts, trying to distract himself with anything in order to forget the pain in his legs.

Looking around, he saw nothing interesting.

He considered reminiscing, but most of his memories were either boring treks like this one, or hazed by liquor and drugs, being too faint to remember.

But there was one memory, a bloody and painful one at that.

Clubs beat down, bags were stolen, and sand turned crimson with sticky blood.

Raze shook his head, as though trying to scrub away a stain on his mind. He instead focused on the horizon, trying his best at emptying his thoughts, failing miserably.

'Fucking scavs, swear that when i find them i'll rip their hearts out and feed it to 'em'

Thinking up unimaginative curses, Raze quietly seethed as he trudged along the sand, the anger distracting from the pain slightly.

At first, he thought it was a mirage, or pehaps an odd pile of sand.

Not directly ahead, but positioned slightly to the left, a distant shadow on the horizon slowly grew larger. As both it and Raze seemed to move closer to another, Raze realised that after nearly a full day of walking, he may have finally found someone!

Swallowing the tiny amount of saliva left in his mouth, Raze prepared to call out before-

"HEYY!!!"

Instead, the shadow was first, turning from a brisk walk to a rapid sprint as it approached until Raze could finally make out what it was.

'A vagrant. Maybe an escaped slave?'

Clad in ragged pants, and a thin shirt that was barely intact, Raze realised that this person was unlikely to be much better off than himself. Approaching Raze, the vagrant's face had a mixture of relief and anxiety written on it- glad to see someone, but hesitant to approach.

They stared at each other until the vagrant, an emaciated man with his face caked in sand and dried blood, began to speak:

"H-Hey, you're... like me right? Lost in the desert? Why dont we work together? i have supplies, and you seem to have some kind of weapon... Im thinkin' it must be fate or something! So, whaddya think???"

Raze thought for a few moments before deciding on what he should do.

"Sure thing, lets go together."

Relief and joy once again bloomed on the man's face, the wrinkles twisting into a beaming smile.

"Great! You wont regret it, I swear! Oh, i'm Murk, well thats what they called me anyways- What about you?"

"Name's Raze."

Murk flapped his arms around, apparently excited by the prospects of making a friend.

"Great! Raze! A fine name! Once again Raze, i swear you wont regret teaming up with me, one day, we're gonna shake the world or something hahaha!!"

Murk had a talent for babbling if nothing else.

"Well, you know the way to the nearest town?"

Murk mumbled a little and seemed to ponder for a few moments before gathering his thoughts.

"Yeah! Nearest town isnt too far out from here, passed through just 2 days ago, we should get there quick if we hustle! This way, follow me!"

Murk continued to walk the same way Raze had.

'Least i was on the right path'

Now knowing which way to go, Raze moved quickly.

Rushing up behind him, Raze's club bit into the back of Murk's head, making a wet thud as he dropped noiselessly to the desert floor.

Stepping back a little to assess the scene, Raze heard Murk gurgling face-down in the rapidly reddening sand.

Stepping forwards once more, Raze launched a storm of innacurate blows onto his head, limbs and body.

It wasnt long before Murk was a battered corpse.

'At a glance, you can tell he couldn't have had much on 'im, but even still...'

Stripping off the bloodstained clothes, Raze shook the rags, hoping to find a hidden pocket or two, until a small purse, and a large metallic object eventually dropped to the floor with a muffled sound.

Raze smirked.

'Purse of grits, and a tube of water. Not bad at all. wouldn't have done us both though. Was he really as stupid as he looked?'

Satisfied at getting some money, Raze put on the new shirt he just happened to find, wiped the bloodstains as best he could, and then began to walk to his next destination.