<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">Maia looked at the stranger for a long time, her sharp pale blue eyes taking their time as she assessed the threat. Once satisfied with a look from afar, she threw a leg over and dismounted with agile ease. She crossed the distance to him, her eyes never leaving his; her rifle always at the ready. "Try telling them that. I'm sure they'd beg to differ when it comes to land claims and walls."<br/>
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Her friends had arrived and he'd taken quick notice of them as well. Atop their mounts they looked like some kind of post apocalyptic tribal warriors. They wore leather and denim decorated with marker, paint, and patches that depicted slogans of solidarity and symbols from deep within their culture. Their hair and skin  display styles and markings that were a fusion of ancient tribalism and new primitivism. When the world as everyone knew it stopped being anything anyone recognized, the people of Table Bluff Rancheria dug far back into their roots and pulled out the best of what was there in a bold show of cultural reclamation.<br/>
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When she'd closed the distance between them, she pat down his sides and pockets. "He's clean," she said and stepped back from the stranger. "What's your name?" She asked and the two men with her dismounted as stepped into proximity of the two. <br/>
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"Heading north?" Vass was the first of the two men to speak out. "You'll find nothing for you there except Angels and Mongols," he spoke of the infamous MCs that had footholds in the region before everything turned upside down. "Run into either one of them and you're likely to die."<br/>
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He looked to Maia briefly and then his friend who shrugged and nodded back him. "If you have something to trade, you can come back to the Table. Eat. Rest. Come up with a new plan." </span>