The Art of Looking For Trouble

Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it whether it exists or not, diagnosing it incorrectly, and applying the wrong remedy. ~Ernest Benn

I arrived in Dulston a little tired. I was assured that the Treaty would sit nicely around me after my last post. After a little rest in the mall, I found out that someone has a crush on me. Marriage is really not my bag but it made me smile none the less. I am not certain, but I believe it was a young professional. At least this way, his heart is not broken.

Apparently, bureaucrats are the professionals that never sleep. EvilRed tried to murder me. Thankfully, my lovely loyal manservent, GioV, was on hand to save me for another day. And yes, only one day passed before EvilRed found satisfaction. In any case I was up and alive again in next to no time. I searched a little for EvilRed but I wasn't all that anxious. And as I was searching, the treaty was broken.

Myself and members of the group Red Rum commenced slaying innocents. Most of the others took the flashy route, killing mall rats mercilessly. However I landed in a little police department by the name of Younghusband Square PD and found myself some lovely bloodied townies.



Of course, I couldn't do it without wearing myself out.

A little while later, I took a deep breath and my senses came flooding back. Before leaving I said "Oh dear...I bet that hurt." Yeah okay, it wasn't banterlicious like the lovely lovely Karloth Vois. Random quips never were my thing. But I found it amusing.

I ended up sleeping next door with that fabulous pirate, LeChuck. Unfortunately, the museum was over run by zombies before I awoke. LeChuck was still in good spirits, as usual. I think he had a bit too much brainROT rum.

Again, it wasn't long before I felt the sweet release of the MKII pulsing through my veins. I ended up in some dive of a tower. A couple Rummers joined me and I barely resisted the urge to kill them. But again, ZOMBIES! This time, a friend of a friend decided he wanted me all to himself. So I decided then was as good a time as any to leave the town of Dulston to the rest of the Rummers, the Big Bash and The Dead.

Tonight, I decided to rat on a fellow "killer," if one so lowly can be called such. An impostor, a zerger, a dirty cheat seem much more apposite names for such an individual. He has been cloning himself. As a favor to a friend, I reported him.
As a result my sleep was disturbed by some rather nasty screaming. Apparently, PrivateDamage is a whiney little pussy bitch and can't handle being on Malton's wanted list. I probably shouldn't have done it. Politics is a dirty business after all. I had absolutely no intention of getting involved from the start. But, I couldn't resist my friend's gentlemanly charms. I sighed, got up, wandered over to the church and got a revive inside from a lovely lady with an aversion to zombies. I stood up immediately and wandered back inside to find him not far away.


And with that, I prepared to kill his clone in the North West corner. Ahhh...The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. Yet another clone decided to take a shot. I could go back and kill the clone, and get shot by yet another clone, then go back, kill the other...But I'm more interested in new faces to kill.

I'll be speaking to a friend about this person, expect a list of his identities soon. In the mean time, my friends, feel free to take a few shots at them for me. I can guarentee you they'll be in Dowdney Mall or the Sweatman Motel.