Unshaken

by The 24th Pegasus

Chapter 137

A few more minutes of walking brought Kestrel and Tumbleweed to the edge of the swamps, where the rocky high ground created a natural clearing in the middle of the trees, and drier ground to stand on. The two outlaws had located what looked to be the main trail the moonshiners used to bring their wagons in and out of the camp, and had shadowed it in parallel through the undergrowth to approach unseen and make their initial observations to assess what they might be dealing with. After all, the last thing they wanted was to stumble right into a business dealing with any potential customers. Both Kestrel and Tumbleweed agreed that would create a tense situation that would all but assure the meeting got off on the wrong hoof.

Hiding behind some plants and staying low and in the shadows, the two ponies surveyed the camp from a distance. “How’s it look compared to when you and Silvie was here?” Tumbleweed asked Kestrel in a low voice.

“Ain’t all that much different,” Kestrel said. There wasn’t any activity in the camp save for a quiet chatter of background conversation, and just as before, Kestrel spotted a unicorn mare sitting on a stump serving as the moonshiners’ lookout, her well-worn rifle kept by her side. Her demeanor was calm and relaxed, and she still had that same book from before in her magic. Obviously the moonshiners weren’t expecting trouble, and if they weren’t expecting trouble, then maybe they wouldn’t immediately assume Kestrel and Tumbleweed were.

“Looks calm enough,” Tumbleweed concluded alongside Kestrel. “Might be willin’ to hear us out, then.”

“We gonna do this the usual way then, Boss?” Kestrel asked him.

“Reckon so, unless you suddenly picked up a penchant for negotiations.”

“You and I both know that ain’t true,” Kestrel said with a frown. “You handle the talkin’, I’ll make sure nopony’s linin’ up a shot on us.”

“A plan if there ever was one, tried and true.” Tumbleweed nodded and backed away from the undergrowth, Kestrel mirroring him as well. “Let’s get back a ways and come up the road. Better than emergin’ outta our hidin’ spot and throwin’ off red flags in their sentry’s head.”

They did as Tumbleweed suggested, moving a fair bit down the road until they were out of sight, then stepping out from the wet ground and damp plants onto something a little more firm and dry. Kestrel relished the feeling of solid dirt under her hooves; she didn’t know how ponies lived out here in the hot and humid misery when even walking sometimes felt like swimming.

When they emerged out into the open in front of the camp, it took a second for the moonshiners’ sentry to notice them. Her expression turned from one of concentration on reading her book to shock at seeing strangers approaching to concern as she snapped the book shut with her magic and set it aside. Hopping to her hooves, she let out a short, shrill whistle and armed herself with a glow from her horn—though she kept the barrel of the rifle pointed toward the ground. “Afternoon,” she said, her eyes scanning Kestrel and Tumbleweed for any indication of hostility. “Can I help you?”

Are the moonshiners outright hostile to strangers? No

“I’d like to hope so,” Tumbleweed said, coming to a stop a respectful distance away from the sentry, far enough away to not make her uncomfortable or feel threatened by his approach. He looked over her shoulder and nodded his head toward the camp on the high ground, which Kestrel noticed had conjured up a few more pairs of eyes to look down at them from the unicorn’s whistle. “Am I right in assumin’ you and your compatriots out here in the middle of the bayou are shiners?”

“Distillers,” the mare corrected him, the tone in her voice making it evident that the word was chosen carefully and not without suspicion. “Who wants to know?”

Tumbleweed looked back at Kestrel for a moment, giving her a wink out of sight of the ‘distillers’ in the camp, then turned his head back around toward the sentry. “A pair of travelers with a mighty thirst who been on the road for some time and ain’t exactly lookin’ to set hoof in the fine city of New Oatleans, I suppose you’d call us.”

Tumbleweed uses Sweet Talker (9) to improve the shiners’ attitude toward him and Kestrel: Success

Kestrel tried to follow along with all the double-talk floating around and get a sense of what was being said without really being said, but the body language of the sentry was much easier to read. After a moment, she relaxed her shoulders, slung her rifle over one of them, and bobbed her head toward Tumbleweed, inviting the two outlaws to come closer. “Reckon we might be able to help with some of that. Have a taste on the house, and we’ll talk some.”

“That’s mighty kind of you,” Tumbleweed said, and when he and Kestrel came close enough to the other unicorn, he held his hoof out for a shake. “Call me Dustbowl. My compatriot goes by Raptor.”

“Those ain’t your real names, are they?” The mare asked as she took Tumbleweed’s hoof, and the slight smile Tumbleweed gave her told her everything. “Right. Well, call me Pinpoint, or just Pin if you want. Rest of these morons do so anyway.”

“You got a big operation?” Tumbleweed asked her. “Could be a lot of morons we’re talkin’ ‘bout.”

“Five of us, altogether,” Pinpoint said. “Tin Cup, Cricket, Gumbo, and Shortsight are the others. We split duties evenly. We’ve got a nice operation, and we’re better than the competition, I assure you.”

“You get much competition ‘round here?” Kestrel asked her.

Pinpoint grunted and nodded as she began to climb up the wooden stairs leading up to the camp on the high ground. “Competition we could do better without, I tell ya. They’re larger and make more’n us, but they cut their shine all the time. Normally, I’d say quality over quantity, but plenty of folks ain’t gonna try somethin’ new and more expensive when they’re used to the cheap swill they buy.”

As she grumbled on about her competition, Kestrel and Tumbleweed exchanged a look. Kestrel knew they were both thinking the same thing: there was a potential opening here, one that could open doors and earn favors. That could go a long way toward getting out of New Oatleans not only alive, but rich as well.

They’d just have to wait and see.

[NO POLL FOR THIS CHAPTER]

Author's Note:

Didn't want to end on two no-polls in a row, but the next chapter is probably going to be longer than average, since there'll be plenty to discuss with the moonshiners. There'll definitely be a poll there as well.

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This story is a CYOA comment-driven story, where you, the readers, decide the outcome of the story. Each poll contains several options, each with sub-optimal choices thrown into the mix, with nothing but the prose to clue the readers into what each option entails. The will of the masses, alongside a few unbiased dice rolls, will decide the outcome of the story.

You can find Kestrel's character sheet, along with some key information about her and the Gang, here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xAGDlcd5mlMTAHwexlsrXOffQMMLoQc12u9itAa-io0/edit?usp=sharing

If you want to see the dice rolls in action, check out my Discord server: https://discord.gg/RsVkdDP

Comments

[RoboRed]

A potential opening, but a potential way to make a lot of enemies in a hurry depending on what info Pinpoint has about shiner competition.

Them's the breaks, I guess.

[Jaro45]

Taking out the rival operation sounds like a great way to gain some fast friends.

[Sugarcoatl]

Hoh boy, wonder if we won't end up razing half of New Oatleans by the time this arc'll conclude.

[Quick Fix]

I have to admit, that went better than expected so far. Can't wait to see which dice roll screws it up this time xD

[djthomp]

We're going to get in a fight between moonshiner gangs, aren't we.