“It looks like a good place to spend the night. Let’s get down here, if you find some asshole around keeping it under fire. If someone even raises a finger just let him skip his head. We do not look for problems, but I do not trust this area. It seems too quiet to be so empty … “
– Reka, a scout of Verbena
“Once everything had to be simpler. When I was a little girl I remember going through an old city of the World Gone. There were these shops with broken glasses, all rocketed for years. But I saw one of these showcases still untouched, on a dummy there was this beautiful light dress, lightweight, with a short skirt and shoulders uncovered … it was beautiful. It was then that I realized what the World was: It was a place where women went around with beautiful clothes, without having to worry about finishing at the first corner or starving into nothing. Must she be really wonderful indeed? But you do not live with little memories, you live out of what we have or die. Then Adelaide, get that fuck out of white shawl. It will be as good as you want and I know that it has cost you an eye, but it makes you a fucking target my little girl. You will put it when you will really need it, maybe at the next village “
– Mama Adena, of the Doughters of Tears
“But you mister … I know why you did it. I talked to your friends … think that it was enough to tear a pair of nails to know everything. What lion’s hearts uhm? So I know, friend. Was that girl trying to cause you said so no? She with her rags too short and with that tone with which she gave you a hook in front of everyone. And a real big man like you, of course, could not restore his honor to the whole camp. You almost killed her after having fun. How did you tell the other night about Al’s hole? You taught that bastard the respect for rank men. Why are you a man of true rank? That girl is three days just to shake. Just as you are now shaking your own. What’s up? Do you scare these scissors? You do not have to worry about these. You have to worry more about the welder that my sister is attaching to that battery, you have to worry more about the van we’ve brought. After. Only after. When we have started the game… when we bring you to the center of the camp where everyone can see a big man and TRUE, while he cries and begs hopping under, then and only then you will have to worry about my scissors … “
– Katya of the Breakchains
The Brides are a small group of nomads composed exclusively of women and their possible offspring. Born by a group of slaves, they chose that in a world now dominated by violent and increasingly beastly men, the best alternative was to organize a small female society in which men were not admitted.
Among them are widows, refugees, women who have seen the horrors of the Postworld, and also the mothers and young girls who joined the group to escape the squalor and the terror of the camps.
Even though it is a small group, they are recognized for their efficiency and speed and their services are often required by camps as stocks or to quickly bring messages along wild lands. Their base is a complex of armored campers in which elderly brides live, taking care of the group’s offspring.
Given their nomadic but not aggressive nature they are also appreciated as merchants in the places they visit, but many men who considered them foolish fools easy to fool with a compliment or a nice dress were disappointed and aching.
NAMES: The Prouds, The Silk Knives, The Valkyries, The Toothy Figs (Disgusting)
The first nucleus of the Brides was formed by the escape of seven slaves from a camp of the Children of Hyena; with great difficulty in achieving freedom, the three survivors swore allegiance and fidelity to not end up again in the horror of other bands of men. Over time, other women joined them, increasing the size of their nomad camp and their strength.
Since then more and more people have seen the Brides come as a blessing, for the news they bring, for the goods they trade, for the wild beauty of the young Valkyries and because they often release the prisoners of other groups. But more than a father hides his daughters, fearing that adolescent anger will lead them away from camp security to follow these nomads from dangerous lives.
“I grew up like a peasant, as my dad took the earth sick and prayed for something decent. One day comes this bunch of motorcyclists, ‘The Astrolion’ or stuff of that kind … what a hoarse name. They cut the throat to my old papa and try to put chains around my neck; but at that moment my brain told me ‘Hey bitch! If there is a good time to start running I would say that’s just this. So why do not you stop staying like a broken doll and do not start using those long legs you have? And so I ran and hid myself until they got tired of looking for me. I dragged myself to the first camp and then? Only with nothing, nothing but the skin I had attached to the bones. I did the only thing that a single, stupid girl with only her beauty can do. And so I survived, but nothing more. I was hooked by these smelly pigs of gas and sand for a piece of bread full of larvae. Was that the matter? No, it was just survival, I was little more than an animal who wandered every day among the scrap and wondering why she was attached to life as a bug in the shit. Then came the Brides. Then Mother Maryanne gave me a drink and cleaned my face. ‘With us you can crack tomorrow, but with us you can live until tomorrow. To live, do not survive’ this said to me that old woman with no teeth. Now I swore. I will not be a Bride of Man, I’ll be Bride for myself, Bride of my bike, Bride of my rifle, Bride of my sisters. Now I really live, now I do something good, now I’m aiming for who I want and at the price I decide if I want money. Now I am mother, sister and daughter. I do not know if you can be happy in this cock of shit … but for sure it’s fine for me “
– Zaira “the smiling”
“Come here, girl, accompany a little this old woman to the well. Lately I see you nervous, you often look around. Why are you afraid of a little girl? Here are some of your friends, do you really think someone can hurt the creature you put into your lap? But of course I know. I’m old and I know the signals. The problem is the real father? The big beast you talked about the other night at Fletown I bet. It looked like a headache with a head full of rays. Is this what you’re worried about? What else can you judge because you wanted to spend the night with him? You are still a young girl and you are just with brides. But we will think about it. Here nobody judges none, because each of us has done questionable things for survival or pleasure. I do not care who the father of that child or who you were before joining us. I know who you are now girl … now you are my granddaughter. And this old stupid still has good intent and a shocker always ready to defend the little ones “
– Grandma Gaia of Verbena
“But look at what mess you have combined? Hey … and who could know you got so much blood in your body eh? No one could know it … except the Mother of Tears obviously, she always knows. She and Miss Rosemary next to me. What? Do not you see Miss Rosemary? But it’s OBVIOUS My bloody … you’re just a fucking ass that kept those girls in the cages. Now you are telling me to put in one of those small crayons and fill it with gasoline …. I like the gas you know Bloody? “
– Jenny “The Robin” of the Broken Circle Dancers
The rules for the Brides are simple: absolute sisterhood for the group and ban on men in their ranks. This obviously does not mean that the Brides have no relationship with men simply do not accept them in their caravan considering them destabilizing.
Pregnancy is accepted, especially the healthy ones and the offspring raised by the entire matriarchal group. Even male children are kept, a problem that the Brides do not discuss (but many people think) and what to do when they grow up. At present, the older baby is eleven and some people think that they should be abandoned or left behind.
Brides have no effective hierarchy, making their decisions in the community. However, old age or road experience are parameters that define the influence of a particular sister. The eldest are usually termed Grandmothers (though they have entered the Old Brides) and are treated with respect, taking care of the resource management and education of children. The most respected women are appealed to with the term “Mama”.
Some fools think that the Brides are just one of the many motorized bands in the Second World, but that would be a bad mistake: the Brides are a kaleidoscopic group formed by different tribes as they are defined, all in keeping with the precepts of the faction.
According to a precise calendar and little known outside, the various bands meet periodically at their main outpost: the Field of Verbena; Here are remembers the stories of the Silk Knives and the oldest precepts, while many are fabulous about what really happens in these meetings. Some of the most famous tribes are here:
– THE KEEPERS OF THE VERBENA
This great tribe is home to the Field of the Verbena, the first and the main Outpost of the Brides. The Field is often the first place visited by a young Bride, where she learns to respect the traditions of the group and understand the importance that every woman brings with it. The Keepers are wise, reflective and protect knowledge about the breeding and cultivation that many have lost in the Postworld. The few outsiders who visited their outpost describe lush and fertile fields that make the Field one of the few paradises remaining in the Postworld.
– THE BREAKCHAINS
Strong militarized tribe. Limanera commands and orders this group of modern soldiers who have quickly taught the various flocks of the Postworld what it means to be trained. Letting in combat, armed with heavy shockers and armor, have become famous as the terror of the bands that enslave their prisoners, especially women. The stories about what the Breakchains are capable of doing to a slave or a violent are whispered with terror around the fires in the night.
– THE DOUGHTERS OF TEARS
A small group of bizarre religious beliefs, which contrast with the most celebrated ideals of Saint Curie or the Church of the Inner Self Combustion. The Daughters worship a Unidentified Mother of Wounds, personification of the whole world and female force; the Mother is sick, corrupt and disfigured by the actions of men and their songs her Daughters weep the suffering of her sores, but at the same time act to bring the earth back to prosper and their Mother to flourish again with fruits, such as it took place in the World gone. Bands that exploit the earth excessively or burn earth without curing green remain in the world are the target of their famous brutal revenge not to leave any survivors.
– ROTARY CIRCLE DANCERS
In the Postworld there are not only violence and illness, there is also madness: the world’s brutality, struggles and hunger are pushing people increasingly towards mental instability. Dancers are a bizarre tribe that gathers all those who have the “Running View” as they call mentally ill women who join them. Violent in combat as fury, but also deadly assassin in the dark, they never leave their madness overcoming the precepts of the Brides. However, more than one man has crapped in his pants hearing their laugh laced in the night before an attack or release.
RELATIONS WITH OTHER
Brides always prefer to entertain peaceful relationships with settlements or with other groups. This, however, is not to be seen as their molestation, given the ease with which they become ruthless to those who betray the agreements with them. Relationships are, however, very difficult with the most violent group or slavery, there is a real fate with the Children of Hyena.
ARCHETYPES: Motorcycle Valkyrie, Wise Mother, Amazons of the Machine Gun, Male well armored.
SYMBOL: A moon overlays three armor cases representing the first three Brides
THE OTHER THOUGHT:
“Those girls are bombs, but if I was in you I’ll be careful about how I move. They have the charm of a dangerous animal, say the wrong word and I will have to write a funeral ode for you “
– Micheal “Elvis” of the Rhapsody of Scream
“They do not look good like those of me. I bang the fuck of their bike and hard faces. If you approach the cage of my slaves, you will feel those creepy shades like crawling pigs “
– Ghana of the Children of Hyena
“They are blinded by empty pride, they make their own existence sacred. Silly fools that raise false myths instead of purifying their spirit. But one of these days will help us understand the light, thanks to the help of our prayers, our faith, and a potion of kerosene “
– Sister Celine, Preacher of the Church of Inner Self Combustion
“You’re not here to make a doll for someone or to be a slave. You are here to be yourself in a totally crazy world. Take your Bride rifle, and show your sisters who you are. “
– Mama Malena