Welcome to Rotting
"Hey Zudd, look, it's another one. Gates sure is busy this week, like a bloomin' bus station."
"Like a regular subway of the old days they is, Buxell."
The world is going to be a bit blurry and woozy at first, looking like old glass until the effects of what brought you here fade. The voices sound strangely echoing, but the tone behind them is good-natured and friendly. Did we mention that you're dizzy as well? Dizzy and weak as a newborn kitten. Someone - probably those who own the voices - draw you up into a sitting position against cool stone. They'll offer you a canteen of water with steady, gentle hands. Eventually your vision will start to clear, and you'll begin to see the dusty interior of an old church around you. The severe walls have been softened by the hanging of thousands of white Christmas lights, interspersed by a few strings of colored ones.
The faces that look concernedly down at you are not in the least bit human. Well, they are a bit human, or the remnants of human faces. The skin of the creatures are gray-ish green and waxy, melted looking so that the mouths hang and pucker at odd angles, the cheeks sagging slackly, the eye sockets drooping. They have hair, but it's irregular and tufted, an old mossy color that reminds one of the bottom of an old pond. Their clothes are in good repair but worn, (thankfully) covering most of their bodies except their arms, which show the same gruesome melting. One of the creatures' hands has become almost like a club due to the disfigurement.
Only their eyes recall humanity, one set being hazel, the other a bright friendly blue. The one with the blue eyes waves his club-like hand, making a smile that looks disturbing with his misshapen face. "'Ello there. I'm Zudd, and this is Buxell, we're your welcoming committee. Don't let our faces fool ya, we're as kind a pair of blokes as you'll find around these parts. The magic just didn't work right on us see - brought us back, but didn't control us - but I suppose you don't know about that yet, do ya?"
"See, I don't know where you're from, but this here is Earth. Used to be a grand ole' place to live, it did. Ever since Z-day though... well, I'm pretty sure you can see 'ow it went. It's all cause of those bloody Cultists..." Zudd trails off, as his companion makes a interrupting sort of noise.
Buxell shuffles forward a little now, holding out a patched together device that looks like a worn and dusty cell-phone. It's quality was probably very good at one time, but the years have faded it to an indistinct gray and its case is scratched and dented from wear. His voice is a bit more dessicated than Zudd's, more of a rasp than a real voice. "That'll get you on the Network, it's run by the Living as still free in Sweden and Norway. Gotta hand it ta those Scandinavians, they know how to run th' internet, even after th' Cult took most of it over. Been plenty useful for keeping track of those of us who're left."
Zudd speaks up again, offering you a hand and then leading the way to the entrance of the church. "Buxell an' I'll take ya to New Ashford now. That's th' closest Living town 'round these parts. Not much ta' look at, but the folks there get along pretty well. Buxell an' I, well... On Earth these days there's either th' Living or th' Rotting - th' ones as want to live free an' the ones as are dead or might as well be dead for servin' the Cult. Bux an' I aren't really either - we died a long time ago an' the magic brought us back, but we've never eaten no one nor felt like killin'. We stay out here an' watch the Gates, ta help folks like you who come through. Good fer the folks in New Ashford ta know someone's watchin', an' we don't have ta deal with all the looks an' stares."
Zudd gives you a sad smile that's mirrored in Buxell's face as well. "Well, let's get ya to your new home - I'm sure you've got some questions, but the Rotting smell th' Living like bloodhounds. Gotta get ya safe."
Current New Person Thread is HERE.
Buxell and Zudd (and other players) will be happy to interact with you there! :)
"Like a regular subway of the old days they is, Buxell."
The world is going to be a bit blurry and woozy at first, looking like old glass until the effects of what brought you here fade. The voices sound strangely echoing, but the tone behind them is good-natured and friendly. Did we mention that you're dizzy as well? Dizzy and weak as a newborn kitten. Someone - probably those who own the voices - draw you up into a sitting position against cool stone. They'll offer you a canteen of water with steady, gentle hands. Eventually your vision will start to clear, and you'll begin to see the dusty interior of an old church around you. The severe walls have been softened by the hanging of thousands of white Christmas lights, interspersed by a few strings of colored ones.
The faces that look concernedly down at you are not in the least bit human. Well, they are a bit human, or the remnants of human faces. The skin of the creatures are gray-ish green and waxy, melted looking so that the mouths hang and pucker at odd angles, the cheeks sagging slackly, the eye sockets drooping. They have hair, but it's irregular and tufted, an old mossy color that reminds one of the bottom of an old pond. Their clothes are in good repair but worn, (thankfully) covering most of their bodies except their arms, which show the same gruesome melting. One of the creatures' hands has become almost like a club due to the disfigurement.
Only their eyes recall humanity, one set being hazel, the other a bright friendly blue. The one with the blue eyes waves his club-like hand, making a smile that looks disturbing with his misshapen face. "'Ello there. I'm Zudd, and this is Buxell, we're your welcoming committee. Don't let our faces fool ya, we're as kind a pair of blokes as you'll find around these parts. The magic just didn't work right on us see - brought us back, but didn't control us - but I suppose you don't know about that yet, do ya?"
"See, I don't know where you're from, but this here is Earth. Used to be a grand ole' place to live, it did. Ever since Z-day though... well, I'm pretty sure you can see 'ow it went. It's all cause of those bloody Cultists..." Zudd trails off, as his companion makes a interrupting sort of noise.
Buxell shuffles forward a little now, holding out a patched together device that looks like a worn and dusty cell-phone. It's quality was probably very good at one time, but the years have faded it to an indistinct gray and its case is scratched and dented from wear. His voice is a bit more dessicated than Zudd's, more of a rasp than a real voice. "That'll get you on the Network, it's run by the Living as still free in Sweden and Norway. Gotta hand it ta those Scandinavians, they know how to run th' internet, even after th' Cult took most of it over. Been plenty useful for keeping track of those of us who're left."
Zudd speaks up again, offering you a hand and then leading the way to the entrance of the church. "Buxell an' I'll take ya to New Ashford now. That's th' closest Living town 'round these parts. Not much ta' look at, but the folks there get along pretty well. Buxell an' I, well... On Earth these days there's either th' Living or th' Rotting - th' ones as want to live free an' the ones as are dead or might as well be dead for servin' the Cult. Bux an' I aren't really either - we died a long time ago an' the magic brought us back, but we've never eaten no one nor felt like killin'. We stay out here an' watch the Gates, ta help folks like you who come through. Good fer the folks in New Ashford ta know someone's watchin', an' we don't have ta deal with all the looks an' stares."
Zudd gives you a sad smile that's mirrored in Buxell's face as well. "Well, let's get ya to your new home - I'm sure you've got some questions, but the Rotting smell th' Living like bloodhounds. Gotta get ya safe."
Current New Person Thread is HERE.
Buxell and Zudd (and other players) will be happy to interact with you there! :)