Rolling Thunder

[Ithermoss]

((Closed to the-one-and-only Tankita Bananas))

It had been a hard week for Rakh. First, he’d been clubbed over the head and held to ransom by pirates. He’d been beaten, spit on, slapped, and mocked. If that wasn’t bad enough, once they realized he wasn’t the tribal chief they were looking for, they threw him overboard in the middle of the ocean. He survived being attacked by sea creatures, dehydration, starvation, countless injuries, and dangerous levels of fatigue. He woke the next morning with a face full of cold brine and a coarse grit between his teeth, gasping with a start, coughing and spluttering. His limbs refused to cooperate. He pawed at the sand with ragged, barely articulated effort.

Then another wave in the face, and further down the beach he was dragged. High tide was rolling in, and he knew he needed to get further inland or find himself back out in the ocean. The next wave he used to boost himself up and to his knees, yet still got tossed around like a sand crab. With considerable effort he stood, wiped the sand from his brow, and squared his shoulders at the sight ahead: a port town.

“A hive of scum and villainy,” he rasped. “Just great. Maybe somebody in this backwater toilet has a carrier pigeon or something.”

Despite having lived on Corone for his last two incarnations – the tribal detested sailing types. They’d come ashore, get smelly drunk on swill, and make a big mess of things. They’d roll into the bazaar district and just make a wholesale nuisance of themselves. When he’d led the Jihad for the Bazaar in his former life, confining the sailing rabble was a commitment he had to uphold. That, and carousing sailors were a spilled drink away from a huge riot-spasm.

Rakh stumped his way through the sand toward Noria well enough, getting his bearings and making his way to a town well for water. He knew the deal – sip, don’t gulp; a feat much more difficult in practice. He splashed a few buckets of water over his sun-burnt head to clear the bits of sand out of his hair and help gather his senses, checked his gear, and he blanched.

“Archus!?”

He checked again. Gone. His favorite dagger was missing, along with twin his ankh-hammers, even his shepherd’s crook – all of it was gone. They left him with his two prevalida spiked bucklers, mistaking them for armor. It made a certain amount of sense, then, why he sunk like a rock when they threw him overboard. But his dagger, above all, was one of a kind. It was just about all he could take today.

“Godsdamn, bloody sailors!”

[Tankita Bananas]

Tankita Bananas hated pirates.

The war machine preferred ninjas as a personal preference; they were easier to blow the fuck up whenever they tried to slit one's throat. Of course, the tank never really had that problem; throats are pretty hard to slice when they are made from metal. Still, pirates were cowards who hid behind their drink and their ships, both which, from her experience, was a way for them to overcompensate for something. Pirates were very high on the list of the few jobs she wishes she could create a higher unemployment rate for.

She was in Etheria Port today to shop for food. Many would question why a tank would need food, but the vehicle cleverly disguised herself today to not look so tank-ish. A red wig sat atop the hatch (roughly where her 'head' would be located' while a small wand with a plastic star adorned on it was duct taped to her side. Every carefully moved out of the way of 'the little girl' as she traversed the busy port town. The smell of fish was lost on the death dealer, as she had no sense of...anything. She was a tank.

She approached a small stand that displayed several mackerel and salmon cooled upon a bed of ice. The aquatic treats were hefty catches, roughly about four to five feet long each. They looked delicious, so she lowered her muzzle towards the shop keep, who was vastly overweight with a gray beard and bald head. His black apron was covered in fish guts and the muscles on his arms seemed better suited for chopping the heads off people rather than fish.

"Good evening sir," Tankita 'spoke' into the mind of the vendor, "I require some fish today. I will take two salmon and three mackerel, please."

"I have just thing for you!" the man spoke in a weird accent that was devoid of certain words like 'the', "it is underneath cooler, da?" He disappeared for a brief second and rose up, a ice box full of mackerel and salmon now in his hands. "Dat will be two-fifty little girl!"

The shop keep looked away for just a second and when he focused back on his customer, found himself with two hundred and fifty gold pieces, and his ice box and child customer gone. She traveled slowly out of the town with the ice chest resting just below her gun on her front like a smelly hood ornament. As she was leaving, she heard someone ranting over by the local well. She turned to see what the fuss was about and saw a human-ish looking man frisking himself as though he lost something important. She was intrigued.

"Excuse me Mister," Tankita slowly approached the panicked Rakh, "Is there something wrong?"

[Ithermoss]

How such a strange creature was able to move with such sultry allure astounded him, and Rakh could only blink. That, and the way she kept her hair was particularly becoming. He always felt that a real woman ought to have tracks. The silly shoes they make ladies wear nowadays baffled him. It took real feminine grace to work with tank treads. It’s not every day that you lose near everything, then a knockout of a woman steamrolls into your life.

Maybe it was a sign of his desperation, but she was cute in a way that only eight tons of steel could be. He’d hoped he wouldn’t be friendzoned this time. Gods, how he hated being friendzoned.

“Girls all just need someone to fix, ” he insisted to himself. “Just open up.”

“I don’t know how. My dad never taught me,” came that ever present voice of self-doubt. “I’ve got to be strong.”

“You can’t be strong all the time, bud. You need someone to save you. To fix all your bullshit. Don’t you realize? You’re alone in the world, desperate to be loved.”

“I don’t know. My parents are both Elder Thayne. My mom is an escape artist. I have commitment issues.”

“Cut the drama queen shit. She’ll like you.”

“Well, okay. But what kind of things do girls like?”

“Just be yourself.”

“I don’t know, man. I move way too fast when I’m myself.”

“How do you mean?”

“Like, I start wondering what she’s doing. Who she’s with, all that kinda stuff. Then, all of a sudden, I'm bringing an extra bone to put through my nose and I'm leaving it at her place.”

“Yeah, don’t be yourself. Be better than yourself. Be charming. Be someone she can fix, but still mysterious enough to be interesting.”

It was a big decision for him. He decided to let himself be weak for a change. He regarded her, did his best to smooth back his sea-tossed mohawk, and wiped the running war paint from his eyes. He didn't quite know how to do this, but he was doing it. He had to tell her he needed her. He had to tell her he was in pain. He had to let her in, to let her fix him. He breathed a sigh of defeat, and looked up at her chassis.

“I’ve been having a bit of a hard day,” gesturing toward the array of cuts, contusions, and scrapes adorning his trunk. It had seemed a sea-turtle had taken great issue with his presence while he had been afloat, evident in good three or four bites to his calf. “I was kidnapped, robbed, and then marooned by pirates.”

He scratched his head, gazed darkly up at the woman’s turret, and smiled.

“But I’m better now.”

[Tankita Bananas]

Tankita Bananas was a religious zealot. She believed God gave her sentience in order to purge the world of it's vile impurities. Tankita Bananas was a racist. She thought that anything not human was below said species, and even saw fauns of all things as filthy animals, and any human who was willing to have sex with them a practicioner of bestiality. Tankita Bananas was super violent. Only a living tank would be able to consistently blow things up and act as though they had found a gold piece on the side of the street.

But above all else, Tankita Bananas was a creature that knew sympathy.....and a tank. She was also totally a tank.

"I am quite sorry to hear that," Tankita lowered her muzzle to try and console the poor tribesman, "is there anything I can---wait a second. Did you say 'pirates'?" Tankita's 'eyes' would have seen red at the word, the only other word to enrage her more was 'fauns'. How she hated pirates and fauns, so no doubt a pirate faun would be the absolute worse thing to ever grace Althanas. The fact that those plundering piss poor excuses for people pilfered this polite person's precious keepsakes only drove to anger the war machine more.

"That is...inexcusable!" she declared, her 'shout' a bit further than she would have liked as several people around turned to look at the cute little girl with the strange little man. In fact, a particular faun approached the two, a middle aged goat-man with a long beard and enough lower body hair to complete someone's lawn. He seemed to have a scowl on his face as he looked to Tankita's new friend.

"Trying to lure little girl's is ...it's filthy!" The man shouted at Rakh, "I have half a mind----"

Before he could finish that thought, a thunderous boom echoed throughout the town, a shower of blood coated the new found friend on Tankitas, and what was left of the beast man laid upon a smoldering crater in the ground, the occasional twitch from the severed leg that remained. "Wish granted. Now you really do have half a mind...and a no everything else."

Her cannon still seeped smoke out of the muzzle as she turned to addressed the recently robbed Rakh. "So, any idea where we would find these pirates then?"

[Ithermoss]

“Dude. You’re getting cockblocked. By a faun.

“The hell I am. Just wait. I’m going to get in that guy’s face right now.”

“You need to get a move on. He’ll swoop in, man.”

“Okay. Deep breath, Rakh. Deep breath. Mind the horns, and deep breath.”

Rakh’s unimpressive wrestling with his self-confidence was greeted with a wave of pressure bearing down on his eardrums as his new friend made her own introduction – this one with a staggering concussive force like few he had ever seen. The earth flung into the air settled, a few pebbles and what may have been a finger pitter-pattering off his shoulders. Only his ability with sonic waves had ever produced something so destructive. He was quite impressed, if not turned on. Who didn't like a woman who could blow stuff up?

He was enchanted by her voice. It was a choir of angels. It was a glimmer against the murk. It was the flash of spice in a bland meal. Rakh could barely hear anything but her one singularly gorgeous voice. Well, yes; that may have been the tinnitus, and no doubt permanent damage to his eardrums. There was an oddly warm dribble down his neck. He put it out of mind, and simply made a mental note to see the “Ye Olde Otolaryngologist” in Radasanth when he gets back.

While his new friend got busy turning this new presence into a new hole in the ground, Rakh caught a sidelong glimpse of her undercarriage as she rolled back on her tracks from the force. He flushed, his cheeks now matching the deep crimson of his sunburnt back, and averted his eyes until she was done. It wasn't like a gentleman to steal a woman’s virtue, after all.

She swiveled back to him. He looked up into the tank’s soft, delicate cannon. She really was quite nice to sympathize for someone in his situation. "They’re out at sea. They mentioned a pirate base. Like a sea fortress of some kind further east and a column of smoke to find it,” he said, taking a somewhat less than subtle look at her armor. "How do you suggest we get there? I'm not much of a swimmer," he conceded.

He couldn't fathom the buoyancy of a beautiful woman like her. He knew that certain choice features of a lady would typically float in water, but he didn't want to seem presumptuous. Besides, he didn't mind if she wasn't "all natural." After all, it was strictly a woman's prerogative how to look her best. Don't feel like oiling the tracks? Don't feel like loading the heavy ordinance? Who was Rakh to comment? What was this, anyway, a tank ducking? He'd find out if it was sink-or-swim soon enough.

“Whoops. Don’t move. You've got some faun on you. I’ll get it.” Without flinching, he took another drawn bucket from the well and dabbed carefully at her treads. He was bordering on getting fresh, but decided against lingering there too long. He didn't want to seem like he was copping a feel or anything.

She took good care of her tracks though. Rakh was a tracks kind of guy, and he hoped he was in her sights*.



*Like in a good way - decidedly not like how the faun was a crater now. The author intends to impart a playful sexual overtone in the strictest sense, without overtly referencing coitus with a battletank.

[Tankita Bananas]

If the tank could have blushed, it totally would have. A new feeling welled up within Tankita as Faun leftovers were wiped away from her large girth by her new found friend. The gentle touch of a human (or what made for a half way compelling human at least) left shivers in her cockpit, which wasn't really good when you think about how much sensitive electronics were in the thing. Her muzzle somehow retracted a bit like a curious dog who got too far out of the yard and just watched its fellow dog be blown up by a sentient tank. In this analogy, the nameless faun was the other dog. Fuck fauns.

"Thank you, but I don't believe I caught your name yet, Mister....?" Why did she feel this way? As though another tank had fired a live load into her open hatch? She could see fireworks and for once they weren't the result of one of her shots blasting another living thing into tinier gorier little things.

"Rahk," he said, plain as day, his eyes mesmerized with her treads.

"Mr. Rahk, my eyes are up here, and thank you," of course, where 'up here' was would be a mystery better left unsolved for the ages, "But I am a strong, independent woman and I do not require a male counterpart for validation. I will get us across the sea and I will make sure we reacquire your stuff. Mark my words." She turned and began to roll towards the docks, the birds finally a little less scared of the giant metallic monster that stormed through the marketplace with all the gentleness of a bear that was punched in the dick. She paused for a brief second when she realized the bone thugs was not with her harmony.

"Quit looking at my exhaust," she said, though a smile would have been upon her face had she a face to start with, "And hop on, if you're willing."

[Ithermoss]

“I’m only looking at what you’re showing,” he grinned. He did try to look her in her eyes as best he could, his gaze quickly darted around to find something that resembled the orbs she claimed to have, but he looked like a cat attempting to track a housefly. He got sight of her viewport and gave it a wink as he clicked his teeth.

“Am I willing? Gee, lady. I thought you’d never ask!”

Gods above, did she have one fine-ass exhaust. He hadn’t seen a set of pipes like that since, well, ever. The tribal mounted her rear side skirt, careful to not have his bare feet caught in the chugging tracks below. The rear cupola was hot in the sun’s full gaze, but he had suffered worse adrift at sea. He rather liked giving his legs a rest though.

“You can call me Tankita. Tankita Bananas.”

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Bananas,” he fawned. He wondered for a moment about whether he’d have to charm both Mr. and Mrs. Bananas if he were to properly court the battletank. He had hoped in quiet desperation, for his own sake, that he wouldn’t have to do anything unfortunate with his mohawk. “I really appreciate you lending me your aid.”

"I wonder if she’s into lube jobs and machine stuff like that. ”

“Best not to mention lubricants this early, bud. That’s coming on way too strong.”

“Too forward?”

“Want to get blown the fuck up?”

"Yeah, you’re right. Something to keep in mind though. Y’know, if she needs to feel pampered.”

“It’s really personal. Please don’t say ‘lube job’ out loud. I won't talk to you anymore if you do.”

The two of them flattened everything on their way to the docks, the boardwalk groaning under their combined weight. It was then that the tribal’s faith in his new found friend began to waver, ever so slightly. He didn’t quite like the idea of plunging through the wooden boardwalk and back into the ocean – now with the added comforts of splintered wood and a rocky shoreline to contend with.

“They really don’t make these boardwalk things for two, do they?” he chuckled nervously. “Say, how do you propose we get out to sea? Do you want to find a boat?"

[Tankita Bananas]

"Don't worry about that, big guys," She said with the closest thing to a smile a sentient tank could muster, "I have that all figured out."

Planks of wood moaned, creaked, broke and tumbled into the shallow waters below. Splinters of wood and sea mist sprayed in the faces of the two kindred spirits as Tankita soldiered on to the edge of the pier. She could feel the shaky hands of Rakh as her treads caused the dock to lose more and more of it's foundation with each chug of her wheels. A few stray fishermen paid little attention to the steel behemoth and merely scooted down a few inches to make way for the large machine as though she were just another face in thr crowd. Fishing was just that Thayne damned serious.

"Tankita..." Rakh began as they arrived three feet from the end of the pier with no signs of pause from the vehicle.

"Tankita...?" Rakh asked again as the tank began to tilt downwards towards the drink.

"TANKITA!" He finally shouted as the end of the dock finally gave out and the two were dropped like a cinder block full of slightly smaller cinder blocks.

And yet, they were not submerged in total liquid. Instead, the treads of Tankita sprouted large rafts, which in and of themselves had sort-of tread like paddles. The logistics of the large yellow, rubber ship able to support such girth seemed out of this world, but such was the ingenuity and genius of the engineer known as Rayleigh. Several people gathered on what remained of the pier's end to look at the modern marvel as it paddled along the water as though it were a small tugboat. The dual fishermen mid-pier just kept focused on their lines.

"Yes Rakh?" Tankita finally responded, "Are you about to tell me which way the pirates that took your stuff went?"

[Tankita Bananas]

"Don't worry about that, big guys," She said with the closest thing to a smile a sentient tank could muster, "I have that all figured out."

Planks of wood moaned, creaked, broke and tumbled into the shallow waters below. Splinters of wood and sea mist sprayed in the faces of the two kindred spirits as Tankita soldiered on to the edge of the pier. She could feel the shaky hands of Rakh as her treads caused the dock to lose more and more of it's foundation with each chug of her wheels. A few stray fishermen paid little attention to the steel behemoth and merely scooted down a few inches to make way for the large machine as though she were just another face in thr crowd. Fishing was just that Thayne damned serious.

"Tankita..." Rakh began as they arrived three feet from the end of the pier with no signs of pause from the vehicle.

"Tankita...?" Rakh asked again as the tank began to tilt downwards towards the drink.

"TANKITA!" He finally shouted as the end of the dock finally gave out and the two were dropped like a cinder block full of slightly smaller cinder blocks.

And yet, they were not submerged in total liquid. Instead, the treads of Tankita sprouted large rafts, which in and of themselves had sort-of tread like paddles. The logistics of the large yellow, rubber ship able to support such girth seemed out of this world, but such was the ingenuity and genius of the engineer known as Rayleigh. Several people gathered on what remained of the pier's end to look at the modern marvel as it paddled along the water as though it were a small tugboat. The dual fishermen mid-pier just kept focused on their lines.

"Yes Rakh?" Tankita finally responded, "Are you about to tell me which way the pirates that took your stuff went?"