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.

Scenes from a Mall

It was Valentine's Day and I was feeling flirty. I'd been hanging around this mall for a few days, checking out the local stock of young, burley looking men and even finding a kindred spirit or two.

Saint Valentine was decapitated for refusing to deny christ. And what sort of god would christ be if he didn't enjoy a little head every now and then? So fittingly I've dubbed Valentine's day "Dead Priest Day," or "Give head for Jesus Day." I won't go into details, but head was had by all.

Oh fuck it. You are a sordid lot, let's turn the heat up in here.

Early on in the day I skipped over to the south western corner of Stickling Mall and bumped into Jim Braddock who you'll remember from my previous blog as the guy who seemed ignorant of revivification points. He seemed to be buying flowers or katanas or something. There were a lot of stalls open in the walk-way due to the holiday. Malls are fun places. I really enjoy watching people and going into the lanes less travelled. I watched Jim from a balcony as he sat on a bench eating a hotdog. Such a goofy looking guy. He got ketchup all over his face and down his shirt. Fitting since the colour of the day was red. And no one noticed the blood shooting out of his face when I shot him. The best lessons are memorable ones. I'm willing to bet that he won't forget me for a long time.

I turned my attention towards a young member of the Malton Civil Defense Unit by the name of Samuel 034, or at least, that's what his name tag said. A sweet looking man. I simply could not resist kissing him before wishing him a Happy Valentines Day and sending him off in a lovely flash of red. It was beautiful and he deserved it. After all, he and the rest of the "authorities" are why I do what I do. Unfortunately, my camera's batteries were flat. But you can rest assured that the lead and flesh met in glorious union in the spirit of the day.

And I with that I wandered off into the night. I passed Goopy on my way but I was too tired to tango with the troublesome sim.

Later that night I sipped a glass of Rum in the Duke Hotel. Hmm...That reminds me, I must seek out this D'oeuvre fellow. I'm told he exists and that his first name is Horatio.

I am disappointed though that I didn't get a photograph. I imagine Samual will have one, though whether he is the "kiss and tell" type is yet to be seen. Either way, I'm watching the Department of Emergency Management website for a report.

What the World Needs Now Is Love

Ahh what a night! Yesterday I had a lucid dream. But first, we should do a little catching up. I made it to Roftwood safe and sound. Found a nice little niche and even stalked some prey in the two hospitals there. Alas, the prey got away from me in St Ethelbert's Hospital as it was and probably still is under siege by a massive horde by the name of Ridleybank Resistance Front. This was quite exciting to watch. I even offered some help for the zombies at one point. They got a little fresh with me while I was trying to axe the barricades. So I went back inside.

Nothing happened for a day or so. I was starting to get kind of bored. Then I heard about some action happening at Hildebrand Mall. I had previously only passed through the mall some days back and decided it sounded like fun. So I hopped over and low and behold there were zombies inside! One of them tried to get me to join him at the food court. I escaped with another survivor by the name of Mike LeGrande, to the Wrench Hotel. Seconds later a zombie crashed through the barricades and swiped at me taking me to near death. I struggled through the pub's doors and fortunately there was a hospital next door to rest in.

Fortunately, I hadn't become infected which allowed me the strength to search for first aid kits. Mike then joined me in the hospital. I healed myself a couple times, then healed him a couple times and exhausted I collapsed on a couch in the waiting room. Some kind soul restored my health over night. If he or she is reading this, thank you.

But during my delirious state, I had a rather lucid dream. A serpent by the name of Duke D'oeuvre slithered out of a tree and stood before me as a man. He was dressed immaculately in a tri-quarter hat, a fine but tattered red coat with gold trimmings. Strangely, in spite of his title, he appeared to be a pirate. He whispered in my ear of things that caused me to become overwhelmed with desire. I would have swooned if I were not already taken with delirium. He offered me knowledge, power over others and scones. Graciously I accepted the scones, and sunk my teeth deep into the doughy and jam smeared bread. When I awoke I was compelled to move out of Roftwood. Strangely enough I headed north when I should have headed south. It mattered not. I found a fellow by the name of Jay Kindle sitting in the the Truell Museum. The mural was so lovely that he hardly noticed me. But I had the strangest feeling that I'd seen him before. It was only later on when I saw him again in Tollyton that I felt compelled to speak to him. I inivted him to call me so as we could have a nice drink together.

After a short nap in Tollyton I awoke with a clear head. A memory of the serpent whispering "Red Rum." I now feel compelled to seek this cryptic liquid out and discover where I've tasted it before. I'll be staying in Tollyton for a day or so before I move on. Something about this suburb seems to be rather enticing.