


AloneTen paces forward.Alone
Silence.
Another six.
More silence.
Four more paces, and my foot connects with an object half buried in the dirt. Vaguely round in shape, closer inspection reveals it to be a statues head. Or at least, whats left of it. Time has not been kind to it, and the head has been split roughly down the center and eroded any features. For all purposes, it is simply a marker, one of many I search for in my daily trek through this area. I pick it up and, dusting it off, place it back on the ground.
Straightening up, I survey my surroundings. A bleak wasteland
--
+
--
90% of statistics, like this one, are completely made up on the spot.
Chaos is like a bad burrito: It always comes back to bite you in the ass.
In the name of the Emperor, bring me cake!
--
Amat victoria curam
Previous PageNext Page