The Lusty Adventures of Akantha; Scav-Hound!

Oasis North. Last outpost in the world before the great desert. Built on the remains of an old, pre-Cascade power station, it's got high walls made of sturdy concrete with plenty of guards, and within that a pretty bustling little trading post. That'll happen when you're the last source of water before the salvage-rich north desert; plenty of glory-seekers and salvage-hounds come through O.N to pick up supplies and stock up on H2O before they go get themselves killed in a variety of interesting and messy ways. I've lived here pretty much all my life; came here on a trade caravan and traded in a hard life sweating from shithole town to shithole town for a slightly less hard life working in the local watering hole of an establishment with guaranteed fresh, clean water.

Bet you're jealous, huh?

Before we go any further, I guess I'd better introduce myself. I'm Kara Deen; bartender, cynical wiseass and your resident unreliable narrator. But this story isn't really about me. I'm just a conveniently placed pair of eyes and ears. Everyone talks to the bartender, right? There's a lot of rumour flying around, a lot of wild stories. Hey, nobody has teevee anymore, so we've got to keep ourselves entertained somehow. And the thing that most gets the attention? Well, that's one thing that hasn't changed post-Cascade. If you really want a story that'll get people buying you drinks and hanging on your every word, it's gotta have violence, or sex. Preferably both.

That's pretty much as good a natural segue as I'm ever going to get to introducing the heroine of this tawdry little penny-dreadful you've got in your sweaty little hands. Striding out of the desert, wearing a dusty old beige jumpsuit and combat boots with her blonde head and held in place by a worn old rubber band and with a combat shotgun slung across her shoulders. This bombshell is a regular in my joint; Akantha is her name, or possibly her alias. She never has been clear on that score. But seeing as it means "Thorn" in pre-Cascade Greek, I'd guess it's an alias or a nickname. Really suits her, as you'll see later.

So, back on track; Akantha came strutting out of the desert with a great big wicked grin on her face. Those big, shapely hips of hers ticced back and forth with each heavy, gravel-crunching bootstep. It's easy to tell even in the jumpsuit, but the woman had curves. Serious, double-take in the street curves. Long, shapely legs toned from a whole lot of exercise, the aforementioned wide hips, and her rear? I've seen sober men almost break down and cry at the sight of that rump just wiggling on by, two gorgeous globes of firm-yet-soft flesh, generous in their size but incredibly perky. Her stomach's flat, muscular in a feminine way.. just the barest hint of some firm abs beneath a soft layer of padding. And if padding is what you want, you can't go far wrong with those two enormous tits standing high and proud on her chest. They're just... huge. Easily larger than her head with thick nipples and wide, tempting aereolae that almost always seem to be on the verge of peeking out of whatever she's wearing. Unless they just outright are. Which happens. It's a good guess that she's originally caucasian 'cuz of the blonde hair, but her skin is tanned a deep bronze from a whole lot of time spent outside.

Let me tell you, dear pervy reader, if every scav-hound looked like Akantha, I would leave my safe little hovel with it's sure water and go traipsing the desert for just a whiff of a partnership with one. I mean, I even jokingly floated i

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