Party Supplies: A Moral on Morale

“Dang it! Frickin’... hay-bailin’, flower-sniffin’, knee-knockin’, lolly-gaggin’, whipper-snapperin’...”

The owner of the Stableton weapon store – a creaky, wasteland-weathered, dust-coloured earth pony named Old Spur Legs – carried on in that manner for quite a few minutes, the unfortunate pair of earth ponies that were the targets of the stream of mild profanities powerless to do anything but flinch at each blunted curse and take it in stride. After a fashion, the tirade grew short on steam, and it puttered into a different, less directionless tack.

“I done told you, ya dang foals, them guns ain’t firin’ no more! Now where the hay are those dang supplies?”

“I’m sorry, Legs!” whimpered one of the ponies, a medium-blue stallion in a hideous tan vest. “There was some huge blasted metal door out front!”

The second pony, a pale yellow mare wearing a tattered ski hat, nervously cleared her throat. “Even with the guns offline, we couldn’t get a hoof inside.”

Old Spur Legs crumpled his face into a wrinkled picture of disgruntled disappointment. He snorted a small cloud of dust that drifted into the blue pony’s face. “Ya dang, good-fer-nothin’ layabouts! What kinda adventurers are ya, any-dang-ways? Get the dang hay outta here!” he said, waving a dismissive hoof at them before walking away. “Dang useless lazy dang youngsters, allergic to a bit o’ dang old elbow grease!”

The two earth ponies stared dumbfounded after him as the door to the weapon store slammed shut behind him. They turned and drifted off to some other part of town, faces downcast in the shadow of their somewhat public lambasting.

A few moments later, a large “Help Wanted” sign popped up in the window of the weapon store, “Dang Fine Guns n Tools,” staring out expectantly into the town square.

Pendant had not seen her friend in a long time...far too long. It had been weeks? months? since she last saw him, when he declared that he was going ahead of her regardless of her indecision. She had last seen him walking out of Manehattan, alone for the first time since...forever. They had been fellow caravaneers for just over two years, and the closest of friends long before that. The closest of friends. The closest. After that, Pendant had thought the world had nothing left to offer her; the caravan had left her depressed, though she didn't know why. She could blame one of her moods, or something, which was probably the case.

She had gone back to Manehattan after that. To sit in the ruins where she had grown up. She had a lot of time to think then, which was not something she usually took the time to do. Her friend had always chided her for it...

"Think! he had said. Think. That had been his thing; he thought it through. She had a habit of tossing it into the wind and letting the Fates guide her. She believed in luck.

At that thought she stopped in front of a store and touched the place where a pendant was concealed beneath her barding, her namesake. Luckiest thing in the world, she knew.

Regardless, she had gone after him again a week later, having made up her mind to adventure once again; yes, there was so much more to see, to do, to experience. Let it come as it may.

Now all she had to do was find him.

-----

She glanced at the window of the shop as a sign declaring "HELP WANTED" suddenly popped up next to her, behind the dusty glass. She looked the other way and saw two earth ponies walking away rejectedly. She took a few steps and looked through the open doorway.

"...anyone home?" she asked as she took a step in, slipping past the doorway and into the shop.

In truth, it had been a longer trip than he had expected. A trek from Manehattan to Stableton shouldn't have taken so long, had he been diligent, and had any sense of speed. Bah, the caravan had eroded his sense of purpose. He had trekked for two years in that blasted line of carts, with his closest companion, and even they had split up a while back. Two weeks, in fact! He had left her back in Manehattan...the ruined city it was.

He regretted it. She had been a good friend since their foalhood, the best of companions. It was strange adventuring out like this without her; that was her thing. She craved adventure, new experiences, and hardly had a care in the world when she was out exploring.

Must have been in one of her moods when he left, he supposed...otherwise he was sure as hell that she would have tagged along.

He couldn't help but wonder.

-----

It came as a great surprise to him when he arrived, to see the sea-green tail of the mare whisk into the shop, her head pop back out for a moment to look around, and duck back in. He stood a ways away for a moment, blinking once in confusion.

Yes, it had been a longer trip than he had thought, if she had gotten up and already gotten here. He slowly trotted towards the shop, the one with the sign blaring "HELP WANTED" from a sign in the window.

"Hey, Pendant!" he called out.

day dream had dune it for the 100th time, he was lost in some town.

"where am i now?...." he called outth himself looking up to see a sign 'HELP WANTED'

"eh might as well..." dream cooed to him self and trotted in.

It should have come as no surprise that Kestrel, upon reaching the closest town, would immediately seek out both the Tavern and the local Weapons store. He has just finished up his latest job and was in need of a quick resupply before moving on again.

Without so much as a sound or sideways glance the massive gryphon made his way down the dusty streets of Stableton towards his first destination. The Weapon store.

When he arrived he noticed two things. The first was a help wanted, sign; possible employment. The next was the smaller forms of two ponies standing out front.

Kes looked them over with his usual cold, predatory gaze. Analyzing them, making note of anything of interest, then moving along to push past them both and entering the store.

As always he did all of this without speaking a single word.

Once inside the building Kes would make his way up to the counter and then begin browsing the rather limited selection of gear and guns that the store had on offer.

Gollgath found himself in a different town. He was on a supply run to get some ammo, at least for his 9mm pistol. He was making his way to a store he was familiar with. A Weapon Store. Stableton was going to be Gollgath's re-stocking place. For Now.

Gollgath spotted the weapons store and spotted a "Help Wanted" sign, this could possibly yield him some extra caps for new hardware. The Gryphon thought to himself about what he would do with the pay.

Once inside, Gollgath briskly made his way to the shop's counter and started to browse the selection of guns and ammo.

Kes heard the door behind him swing open but did nothing. He just kept browsing for now. It was only when the newcomer walked up to the counter beside him that he let his attention waver over towards them.

It was another gryphon, and judging by his smaller build and stature he was a younger one at that; of course everything was small compared to Kes, so he did not put much into the guess.

Looking back to the gunracks after a few moments of study, the gryphon knocked on the counter with one of his talons. Hoping to get the attention of the store owner.

Gollgath CAREFULLY examined this giant Gryphon he was now standing beside. He was quick not to cut in line in front of the behemoth. That was asking for trouble.

The young Gryphon examined the room and saw metal cans of ammo and various firearms on the shelf behind the counter. Gollgath saw a Hunting Rifle on the back of the giant Gryphon beside him. Gollgath could not resist but to comment "Nice bolt-action, .308 Im'ma guessing"? He felt stupid for blatantly asking a "dumb" question.

After pondering his thoughts, the young Gryphon closed his pie-hole and starting staring off.

Kestrel didn't bother with a normal response. He just grunted and gave a nod. The old bolt action had served him well, but his new primary arm was the semi-auto Sniper Rifle that rested just beside the old hunting rifle.

It too was just as reliable, and slightly better in most cases. Especially with its extended magazines.

Gollgath, bewildered that he had recieved a nod, nodded back. People in Manehattan were not so forgiving and had very COLORFUL words to say as a reply.

Gollgath squinted his eyes and observed the Maple wood on the rifle, there was nothing like it. Sure, there were scars and blemishes from battle, but He knew that this Gryphon cared about his guns.

This trait made Gollgath respect the Gryphon even more. A Gryphon that can care for guns, is highly respected in his terms.

The young Gryphon patiently waited for the store owner to tend to the larger Gryphon beside him.

Pendant stopped just as she was looking at a shelf sparsely populated with various pieces of survival equipment, among other things, when she heard somepony call her name. It sounded familiar. She turned around just as Rough Sketch caught up with her, a big grin on her face.

"Hey, Sketch!" she said, cheerful. She had to admit, it hadn't taken that long to find him? Well, for him to find her. Unexpectedly.

It didn't matter.

"Pendant! Ah...heh, ha, what are you doing here? Thought you were back in Manehattan!" replied Rough Sketch, trotting up to the mare. In all honesty, he had entertained a notion that she would come around at some point and follow him...but not catch up with him, not here! It was a...pleasant surprise, he supposed.

"Catching up with you, of course! What else? I admit...I was wrong. I don't know what got into me back in the Outskirts. One of my moods, perhaps..." said Pendant, with a sheepish grin.

"Now, what have you been doing here since you left? Surely there's something worth saying."

Sketch chuckled nervously.

"Not much...I was a bit slow in getting here. Dragged my hooves quite a bit. After that caravan trip for those two years...eh, it felt different walking alone." he said as he nodded absently.

"I just got here, in fact...so, how far ahead of me were you?"

"Not by that much, apparently...you must have just come in, I arrived here not fifteen minutes ago..."

She looked around the shop for a moment, her gaze once again falling on the "HELP WANTED" sign. She set a hoof on his head and turned him to face the sign. Perhaps a little coin would go towards a bigger knife or something...she really didn't know. She'd look around a bit.

"Feel like using those hooves of yours? Because I feel there's caps in this for us. Go check on that - I'm going to look around for just a bit."

Old Spur Legs sauntered over lazily from behind the counter, a half-drained bottle of Sparkle Cola hanging from his lips. He gave the large black griffon a quick look, sizing the customer up before plonking the bottle down on the counter.

“Right, so whatcha want?” He leaned around the griffon, looking towards the others that had also come into the store. “Hey, keep yer dang hooves where I can see ’em! Don’t want noneya stealing anything.” He turned back to the large griffon, mumbling about how he should have closed the shop up and kept this buncha billy goats out.

“I got guns and ammo.” He pointed a weary hoof. “And shovels and picks, hammers... well, you know, tools and such over there.”

"Ammo. .44, .308. Also willing to work." Kes said simply without a drop of hesitation. His voice was gruff, intimidatingly calm, and bone chillingly cold. Kestrel was quite clearly a gryphon that did not mess around. He had no time for bullshit. He was here to get his ammo, maybe a job, then leave.

Stableton was just another settlement like so many others that have been built on the wasteland only to be destroyed a few years later and for the old ghoul this settlement would be nothing more then a memory in a few years. He had to be creative to enter the settlement without getting shot by guards who would only see a zombie walking strait to the city gates, it was getting routine for him at almost every settlement when he wanted to enter them this time he went with the lone wanderer which depended on the weather and light and he was luck when he had entered.

He had been here for a day now staying out of the inhabitant way just looking for some way to make caps. The help wanted sign caught his old eye as he walked the streets, maybe it could not hurt and easy job was something he needed now.

He made sure his hat covered most of his face so he would not get shot at first sight as most ponies seemed to have a problem with ghouls that he could never understand, but maybe he would get shot at second sight this time and he really hated getting shot. "Still hiring?" He asked with his low, gravely and rather raspy voice voice that was so iconic for ghouls, and to tell the though the smell did not hid it that well either.

The weathered shop owner regarded the griffon with a mildly disdainful squint. “Eh? Willin’ to work? And what now? Quitcher mumblin’, lad.” He turned away, ignoring any disapproving return glances, and looked over the group of interested wastelanders with a critical eye before giving a grunt of resigned approval.

“So I s’pose the rest of y’all are wondering about the job ad in the winder too, are ya? Well, so happens I need a group o’ ponies, or yerselves, pref’rably with some gumption in ‘em, to go an’ have a mosey down to the southeast and check out an old abandoned buildin’, see what they can find. So happens the buildin’ used to... Ey, ghoul! Yeah, I’m hirin’. Weren’cha listenin’ just now? And don’t touch anythin’. Don’t wantcher gettin’ any o’ that thar necrotisin’ flesh on the merchandise. It’s bad fer business.”

He shook his head with a throaty sigh before continuing. “Now where was I? Oh. That building used to belong to that Ministry o’ Mohrale; nopony’d go near it on account o’ the defences.” He waved his hooves dramatically. “Whoosh! Big, mean ol’ turrets would shoot outta the ground and blast anypony who done got close.

“Now a coupla days ago, this tall buck fella comes in and tells me that them turrets done gone dead or somethin’. So I hires a coupla ponies to investigate. They came back. Turrets are down, but there ain’t no one upstairs to get ‘em inside, if’n you catch my meanin’.” He frowned, his face wrinkling into some corrugated parody of itself. “So I needs a group ‘at’s got more smarts to scavenge the good stuff before some slippery buck gets his hooves in there first and takes the best stuff for himself.

“Now if’n you’re interested, I’ll give you the pipbuck coordinates, and I’ll buy anythin’ you bring back,” he said, suddenly narrowing his eyes, “provided you gimme first look at it, ya curs.

“So, we gots a deal?” he said, his voice like dried and dusty snake oil. “Or are ya just another buncha freewheelin’ scallywags come to waste s’more of my time?”

day dream steps forward to the old stallon placeing his pipbuck forleg on the conter "sonds like fun im in." dreams eyes shift to the two griffons he wached them with interest.

Gollgath pondered at the conditions of this mission. He thought to himself "Hmmmm, this is like a military operation, requiring squad work".

The young Gryphon loved the idea of scavenging ruins, much like his father taught him how to do so. "You can count me in sir!" he addressed the shop owner. After accepting the job, He looked at the others with an observant eye.

He would have to make due, for now. He observed the pony who placed the pipbuck on the counter with interest and analyzed the other Gryphon in the shop.

The introduction of a ghoul to the party had Kestrel on his guard again, that smell was easy enough to identify. As was the voice. The big gryphon could not say he honestly liked or trusted ghouls all that much. Then again, there were very few individuals that fell into either of those categories.

No matter. Work was work.

"I'm in." Kes said, voice just as cold and gravely as before, still backed by that invisible layer of unyielding metal.

"...if there's room for two more, we," Sketch indicated Pendant, who had trotted up next to him, "may be interested."

He wrinkled his nose at the sudden odor of death and decay emanating from the ghoul, suppressing the urge to cough and get the stench out of his lungs.

Other than that, he glanced at the others present. Two griffons, and an earth pony. One of the griffons - the black-feathered one - had an intimidating aura around him, seeming quite cold, in the emotional sense. The other griffon, he paid little attention to.

Ministry of Morale? Sounded Pre-War Equestrian, not something of the New Lunar Republic, or other such powers. Pre-War articles...valuable, to say the least. From what she knew, much of it had been lost and MAJOR caps would be paid for a pony to get his or her hooves on it.

Or she could just snag the best bits and give this old-timer second-hoof gear. It was a thought. Then again, there were caps involved.

"I'm with him so...we're in." she said, nodding her head in Sketch's direction as she said "him".

"Did somepony say something about a venture out to a Ministry building!?" A rather soft female voice said from a sky blue pegasus mare who had a lavender mane and tail, "Those frequently have advanced security systems and other pieces and banks of valueable data inside of them... If it's alright with you, perhaps I could come along and help with those?"