Post by BARON SAMEDI on Jan 18, 2010 21:04:15 GMT -5
"Twenty-three years ago, we stood with our backs to the West and felt the flames of the East flicker across our faces like sunrise as we watched our cities burn in one fell swoop. There is no God to blame for this, no unstoppable force of nature, this was the fault of man, a man-made virus unleashed by man. The Infected did not create themselves. The Infected did not drop the nuclear weapons that destroyed all life on well over half of our planet. The Infected have never been our biggest threat.
Welcome to the real world, the wasteland. For the past two decades, we have watched our population destroy itself. When the walking dead cut a bloody path across the country, the survivors left in their wake finished the job, killing instead of helping each other. Killing for the same petty reasons as always. Greed. Power. Territory. Sport. Add food to that list and who's left to trust? This is why we cannot rebuild, we are too busy killing each other, killing what managed to survive against all odds, to ever grow. We are our own biggest threat, we caused our own extinction.
America lies in ruins. To the East sprawls a charred wasteland, cracked and barren. When the bombs fell, they took every inch of life with them, leaving nothing but black trees reaching to a red sky like skeletal hands. To the West we have what amounts to a suicide mission. The major cities mostly abandoned and still crawling with the Infected and dotted with marauders that make Mad Max look like a family-friendly comedy. Sick and twisted motherfuckers. In the middle, the Infected remain scattered, still mostly centered around metropolitan areas. Their numbers have dwindled with the rest of the human race. A few other settlements are sprinkled across the country, just pockets of survivors trying to make a living in ruins and makeshift camps.
Included in that scattered number of survivors, you have us, refugees in a land with a soul of its own. Louisiana remains untouched by the worst of the bombs. If anything, the radiation has caused it to flourish in unpredictable ways, turning it into a sort of macabre oasis with murky swamplands, dark under the canopies of dark trees twisting skyward. We are unwelcome here, strangers and stragglers claiming land that is not ours to claim. These swamps feel alive, perhaps with more that we could ever hope to comprehend..."
SWAMPBLOOD
The more people die, the more things stay the same.
C O U G H I N G U P G H O S T S: V E R S I O N 4 . 0
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