Post by 23skidoo on Jul 2, 2010 14:48:56 GMT -5
Well, I'm here, in the belly of the beast, dodging the carrion that is raining down from it's ever hungry mouth. The journey has been long, mostly in part due to the fact that I didn't know where I was going when I started out. After a pleasant stroll through an unsullied suburb it occured to me that the wake of the Bash should look a little more desolate than this.
I asked the locals "have you seen the hordes?", "where is the Bash?", "how old is your daughter?"
They seemed both ignorant and, in one case, hostile. Something was rotten in the state of Denmark. So, using my newsmans skills and nous I pulled in a couple of favors, shook down a couple of mooks and discovered I was way off the mark.
Scarletwood is where I needed to be, the home of the Malton Angels and Dr Killdare of the Garniss Border Control - a woman who can gatecrash the pants party any time she wants!!
So I traveled East, through Dartside and Kinch Heights, proud towns that have seen better days, then into the Graysides, always running, ignoring the screams and groans of the damned, and finally into Scarletwood. Not a building is standing, not a soul to be seen. The dead are everywhere and my time may well be limited. As I write this I am hiding in a filing cabinet with a zombie shuffling around outside. If he wasn't some kind of clerk in his previous existence I may well survive the night.
Tomorrow I look for familiar faces and scotch. Until then I'm F thru K!
I asked the locals "have you seen the hordes?", "where is the Bash?", "how old is your daughter?"
They seemed both ignorant and, in one case, hostile. Something was rotten in the state of Denmark. So, using my newsmans skills and nous I pulled in a couple of favors, shook down a couple of mooks and discovered I was way off the mark.
Scarletwood is where I needed to be, the home of the Malton Angels and Dr Killdare of the Garniss Border Control - a woman who can gatecrash the pants party any time she wants!!
So I traveled East, through Dartside and Kinch Heights, proud towns that have seen better days, then into the Graysides, always running, ignoring the screams and groans of the damned, and finally into Scarletwood. Not a building is standing, not a soul to be seen. The dead are everywhere and my time may well be limited. As I write this I am hiding in a filing cabinet with a zombie shuffling around outside. If he wasn't some kind of clerk in his previous existence I may well survive the night.
Tomorrow I look for familiar faces and scotch. Until then I'm F thru K!