M - Darling I want to... destroy you.

Nuki Rakezael · 01-16-2011, 03:05 PM

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WARNING This thread contains: drug usage, starting with the 9th post. Reader discretion is advised.

WC 654

The monster was not impressed with what she saw.

She wasted her time. All this time and delicate panning to follow a fool's rumor only to be sorely disappointed once her work came to fruition. She wondered how she could even reasonably be surprised. The freaks and the drunks and the junkies in the dilapidated saloons of End-World could never really have known what Nova Scotia was like. If they did they certainly would not be rotting away, breathing in the toxic air of the crippled city. No one who came from a place like this could survive in End-World, nor would they want to. If the radiation did not kill them in a week then they would have fled that ghastly place. Anyone normal enough to come from a continent like this would have surely recoiled in horror upon first sight of the mutated children of End-World. Perhaps the sight would send one of these normal weaklings into convulsions and seize their heart right there on the spot. The woman could not hold back a grim grin at this image...

Although she never wanted to go back, part of her yearned to return to that wretched place and annihilate every last one of those vermin who swore up and down on their life that this place was a paradise. Swore that this place was free. Nobody was free, not anymore. They were freer before, when their nature was far more feral. But now no one was free after the apocalypse. Don't turn your back on the trees, for even they will rise up in a gang behind you and force you to assimilate.

Scowling, the woman peered over her shoulder, but the snow laden foliage behind her only twitched at the mercy of the undulating zephyr. She turned back around and crouched down on her perch. The snow around her had softened on the rock and occasionally small bits would break from the rest to slide over the rock face and drop to the powder below. She slung one hand into the belt that crisscrossed her breast and her fingers toyed with the ties on one of the many pouches she carried there, though she did not retrieve any items.

There was not supposed to be any packs in Nova Scotia. It was supposed to be a forested paradise for the rogues. A place Nuki might have found herself at home at. She could handle fellow rogues and the culture amongst thieves, but she detested the organizations of the mafias and gangs that riddled this dead world. Why couldn't they just accept it? The world was dead now, and soon they all would be too. What were they achieving? What was the glory in banding together as they did? Oh, surely, the leaders of these mobs had the right idea... brainwash your followers and earn fame, power, and wealth. But what the fuck did everyone else think they were doing? Most of them were dead by their comrades hands within six months anyway. (At least they were in Nuki's point of reference, in End-World.) Oh well, it was a befitting fate for those so daft.

There were a lot of packs in this place that was free of packs. Nuki snorted in disgust. She had detected the first trace of an organization the moment her ship docked. They docked in a claimed territory for Christ's sake! Of course, it has been on the outskirts and the sailors led them away from the borders quickly. Nuki scowled at the memory... My first day here and already I was on the run. Even if she would not return to End-World, she would seek her revenge for this.

“There are no packs in 'Souls,” she grumbled mockingly. “Then why the fuck have I smelled two, and am looking right at the borders of another? They're full of more shit than a five legged sow.”

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