(( Foreword: Harsh language ensues. Jerhyn's a pretty vulgar guy. ))
Ok. This officially sucks.
My last days in the ol' Grand Duchy wasn't exactly my favorite time to be alive. Nouveau Bretagne had erupted into a veritable fireball, and wouldn't you know it that the closest one just had to happen when I was giving my girl something to remember me by?
"Mmm.. I love it when you do that, Jer," said she. Little thing had an eye for us pirate types. Granted, I didn't wear no big stupid hat, carry a sword, or say 'Gyaar!' and I was more into smuggling than pillaging, but in those last days, what was the difference?
Ok. Back to the story.
So, like, the stuffy government types decided to bomb the hell out of Nouveau Bretagne, and even dockside (where I stayed, obviously; I liked the seedy side of life) took a few shells. It really was terrible about Basil's dad and all, but when someone sticks a gun in your face then it's going to be either you or him. Alain chose himself. Gotta respect that.
Basil might be a little sore about his dad, but he should know how the game works. That's a D'Mourir for ya'. That's why I never bothered getting involved.
Maybe that's why they call me the black sheep.
Oy. Don't I ramble? Now, where we were? Oh, yes... a dainty little blonde was calling my name.
At about the same time, though, that's when the building shook from the force of the blast, and I'll be damned if one of the walls didn't fall down in a heaping pile of rising dust and smoke and ash. Those Grand Duchy dockside street rats were all alike, though. Pitiful little shack falling down around her, and all she wants to do is keep riding like some kind of prize-winning jockey.
I wasn't so much scared or startled by the blast, though. It just made me turn my head and see what time it was.
She wasn't too pleased when I pushed her off me, either. "Jer," says she, "you're such an asshole."
"Yea, yea'. Sorry, babe, I go's things ta' do." says I as I pull my pants up and don my tattered longcoat like ? well, screw the metaphor. I put the damn thing on, flip the lapels up, and grab my blaster.
"Call me?" she pleaded. These little tarts were so funny sometime. I gave her my best wolfish grin and turned without saying a word. At best she'd simply survive to eek out whatever life she could find for herself in this shattered and broken city. Most likely she'd die in a flaming inferno when the next wave of bombers made their pass. If she were lucky, maybe the shockwave would rip her apart and kill her instantly, and she'd be spared the suffering that goes along with oh.. say.. your skin melting.
Sucks to be her. God, this place has really gone to shit.
Today was the day, and I was gonna be late if I didn't hoof it down to one of the government districts where Basil's pops said the device was.
Should I have taken her with me? Some kind of grand romantic scheme where the two of us run off to another world, dancing off hand-in-hand into the sunset? Oh, hells no. She was just a bedwarmer, see, and not even half good at that.
Besides, there was Tiffana - my betrothed - who waited on the outskirts of the city for when I showed up like I said I would. And then there was Gwendi - my other betrothed - who was hiding in one of the resistance districts. Neither of them know about each other, and they certainly didn't know about Ysandra - my other, other betrothed - who was some high-nose bitch in the government military with an eye for 'dangerous types.'
God, I'm going to miss the Grand Duchy.
It wasn't pretty when we got there, but it was doable. Basil played screen for the girls which left me, Alain, Olinnar 'Bucktooth' Wirn, Joshin Hemrick, and a couple others I didn't know to go on point.
Y'know what sucks more than seeing where you grew up get turned into a pile of rubble? Seeing your best friend getting shot down by government troopers.
Joshin Hemrick never made it to the device, and that was just damn terrible because I think Ellyna had a thing for him, gross as an idea as my dear little cousin doing the nasty was. Guess we'll never know, now.
Bucktooth decided to get cold feet at the last second, but that was fine by me. He smelled funny and had a real mopey attitude about the whole 'getting the hell out of dodge' thing anyway. Still, fatass as he was, he could sling a blaster as well as he could sling a wrench, and some of those smuggling runs required a handy handyman, even if you needed a shoehorn to wedge him into the crawlspaces to work his mechanical magic.
He was almost as good as Basil. Almost.
Device activated, the portal opened and we moved on through. Near as I could tell after that, we ended up in some alleyway. At first I thought we were still in Nouveau Bretagne (because of the smell, you see), but there were no bombers overhead, no rubble-strewn streets, and nobody poking a blaster in our face demanding to know which side we supported.
Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad dig after all. Me and Alain butted heads a bit, and Basil didn't help, but Shannon and the twins stepped in with some words of wisdom. In the end, we all split up and went our own happy separate ways, but did say that we'd have to meet back up later. I'm guessing it's to share what we've learned or seen or some shit like that, but I go my own way. Always have.
Alain and Shannon took off together, and Basil stuck with his sisters. Guess we're back where we started, but now we're in this whole new world to play with. D'Mourirs weren't exactly known for being subtle when the shit hit the fan, but maybe we wouldn't make enemies too fast.
Maybe.
I always get to look on the bright side, though:
At least Solange 'I've- got- a- stick- shoved- so- far- up- my- ass- I- ought- to- be- paralyzed' LeClerc didn't come here with us. She might have some great stems, and I'd lie if I didn't say she was a real dish, but damn if that woman needs to learn how to unwind a little bit.
God knows what I'd do if I had to dealt with her high-and-mighty talks of 'greater roles in life' again.
Ok. This officially sucks.
My last days in the ol' Grand Duchy wasn't exactly my favorite time to be alive. Nouveau Bretagne had erupted into a veritable fireball, and wouldn't you know it that the closest one just had to happen when I was giving my girl something to remember me by?
"Mmm.. I love it when you do that, Jer," said she. Little thing had an eye for us pirate types. Granted, I didn't wear no big stupid hat, carry a sword, or say 'Gyaar!' and I was more into smuggling than pillaging, but in those last days, what was the difference?
Ok. Back to the story.
So, like, the stuffy government types decided to bomb the hell out of Nouveau Bretagne, and even dockside (where I stayed, obviously; I liked the seedy side of life) took a few shells. It really was terrible about Basil's dad and all, but when someone sticks a gun in your face then it's going to be either you or him. Alain chose himself. Gotta respect that.
Basil might be a little sore about his dad, but he should know how the game works. That's a D'Mourir for ya'. That's why I never bothered getting involved.
Maybe that's why they call me the black sheep.
Oy. Don't I ramble? Now, where we were? Oh, yes... a dainty little blonde was calling my name.
At about the same time, though, that's when the building shook from the force of the blast, and I'll be damned if one of the walls didn't fall down in a heaping pile of rising dust and smoke and ash. Those Grand Duchy dockside street rats were all alike, though. Pitiful little shack falling down around her, and all she wants to do is keep riding like some kind of prize-winning jockey.
I wasn't so much scared or startled by the blast, though. It just made me turn my head and see what time it was.
She wasn't too pleased when I pushed her off me, either. "Jer," says she, "you're such an asshole."
"Yea, yea'. Sorry, babe, I go's things ta' do." says I as I pull my pants up and don my tattered longcoat like ? well, screw the metaphor. I put the damn thing on, flip the lapels up, and grab my blaster.
"Call me?" she pleaded. These little tarts were so funny sometime. I gave her my best wolfish grin and turned without saying a word. At best she'd simply survive to eek out whatever life she could find for herself in this shattered and broken city. Most likely she'd die in a flaming inferno when the next wave of bombers made their pass. If she were lucky, maybe the shockwave would rip her apart and kill her instantly, and she'd be spared the suffering that goes along with oh.. say.. your skin melting.
Sucks to be her. God, this place has really gone to shit.
Today was the day, and I was gonna be late if I didn't hoof it down to one of the government districts where Basil's pops said the device was.
Should I have taken her with me? Some kind of grand romantic scheme where the two of us run off to another world, dancing off hand-in-hand into the sunset? Oh, hells no. She was just a bedwarmer, see, and not even half good at that.
Besides, there was Tiffana - my betrothed - who waited on the outskirts of the city for when I showed up like I said I would. And then there was Gwendi - my other betrothed - who was hiding in one of the resistance districts. Neither of them know about each other, and they certainly didn't know about Ysandra - my other, other betrothed - who was some high-nose bitch in the government military with an eye for 'dangerous types.'
God, I'm going to miss the Grand Duchy.
It wasn't pretty when we got there, but it was doable. Basil played screen for the girls which left me, Alain, Olinnar 'Bucktooth' Wirn, Joshin Hemrick, and a couple others I didn't know to go on point.
Y'know what sucks more than seeing where you grew up get turned into a pile of rubble? Seeing your best friend getting shot down by government troopers.
Joshin Hemrick never made it to the device, and that was just damn terrible because I think Ellyna had a thing for him, gross as an idea as my dear little cousin doing the nasty was. Guess we'll never know, now.
Bucktooth decided to get cold feet at the last second, but that was fine by me. He smelled funny and had a real mopey attitude about the whole 'getting the hell out of dodge' thing anyway. Still, fatass as he was, he could sling a blaster as well as he could sling a wrench, and some of those smuggling runs required a handy handyman, even if you needed a shoehorn to wedge him into the crawlspaces to work his mechanical magic.
He was almost as good as Basil. Almost.
Device activated, the portal opened and we moved on through. Near as I could tell after that, we ended up in some alleyway. At first I thought we were still in Nouveau Bretagne (because of the smell, you see), but there were no bombers overhead, no rubble-strewn streets, and nobody poking a blaster in our face demanding to know which side we supported.
Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad dig after all. Me and Alain butted heads a bit, and Basil didn't help, but Shannon and the twins stepped in with some words of wisdom. In the end, we all split up and went our own happy separate ways, but did say that we'd have to meet back up later. I'm guessing it's to share what we've learned or seen or some shit like that, but I go my own way. Always have.
Alain and Shannon took off together, and Basil stuck with his sisters. Guess we're back where we started, but now we're in this whole new world to play with. D'Mourirs weren't exactly known for being subtle when the shit hit the fan, but maybe we wouldn't make enemies too fast.
Maybe.
I always get to look on the bright side, though:
At least Solange 'I've- got- a- stick- shoved- so- far- up- my- ass- I- ought- to- be- paralyzed' LeClerc didn't come here with us. She might have some great stems, and I'd lie if I didn't say she was a real dish, but damn if that woman needs to learn how to unwind a little bit.
God knows what I'd do if I had to dealt with her high-and-mighty talks of 'greater roles in life' again.