Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.
ShortQuests -- individual adventure modules! An all-new collection of digest-sized D&D adventures designed to plug in to your game.

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Mystic Eye" data-source="post: 1159423" data-attributes="member: 711">FoM fictionHere is a bit of fiction that one of the authors did for fun. This is not "official" just a fun little piece.The West Wind blew the tattered newspapers across the street. The yellowed paper struck and clung to the shattered window of the gas station. Mauricio flinched at the sudden movement against the window. His M-14 swung around to meet a new threat, ratcheting a round from the magazine. He squinted; trying to peer beyond the spider-web cracks of the glass and the grime and soot that coated the windows. Nothing moved on Pecos and Jackson. With a long breath, he realized that the movement was from the newspaper. The fragment of the sports section caught his eye…how long ago…Green Bay had won another Super Bowl and the NBA was reeling from the Mafia Scandals…how long ago since Satan’s Maul had blasted Earth and thrown the whole world upside down? How long had the Spawn walked and slithered and crept among the decent? Mauricio remembered his old Nana telling him stories of when she was young and the sky blue. He remembered laughing at her stories of clean water flowing from the pipes and fresh food, just waiting on the shelves of the local stores. He remembered…A sudden wail brought Mauricio from out of his reverie. The sound had come from across the street, somewhere behind the over-turned eighteen wheeler. Mauricio swung his scarf over his wrinkled, dirty face and walked to the door. He crossed himself, asking for Barticus’s protection, and opened the door. The heat and the dusty smell of the dead city assaulted his nostrils as he walked away from the convenience store, the fading smile of the lusty cigarette girl mutely bidding him good-bye.Mauricio quickly checked to his left and right, anticipating danger from some unseen source. He made his way passed the ruin of the Peterbuilt and stopped. He waited; the streets were quiet, too quiet. Normally the rats and cockroaches would at least be scurrying about in search of a meal. But nothing moved; only the gentle breeze, bringing the dry heat from the South.The sound had come from the old apartment buildings on the south side of Jackson. Mauricio was about to shoulder his weapon and head back to Sector when the wail came again, this time further into the apartment complex and more frantic. “¡Madre Dios!” Mauricio exclaimed as his began to run towards the pitiful cry. He kicked open the door to the courtyard and ran to the center of the complex. The weeds and rubble diminished the elegant history of the courtyard that had, at one time, been manicured, and the pride of many of the tenants. Mauricio scanned the balconies and the recesses near the ruins of the swimming pool. He saw nothing.He waited, hoping to hear the voice once again to judge the direction of the poor soul. He heard nothing. Runnels of sweat streaked his dirt-covered face as he stood in the stifling heat of the courtyard, the harsh rays of the unforgiving sun beating down on him. He waited.Out of the corner of his eye he caught a flighty movement, but as he swung around, all he saw was the bleak, empty doorways of the second-story apartments that faced the courtyard.Mauricio sighed and lowered his rifle. He would head back to Sector with an empty story and no survivors. At least, maybe Sector would designate this part of the city beyond recovery and stop sending patrols on pointless missions.He turned and began to walk back to the doorway of the courtyard when he heard the wails, this time closer and coming from different sources. He spun, ready to send the Spawn to Midnar, but paused his trigger finger. The children were begging for help, their thin, emaciated arms reaching for his gentle caresses; their sallow faces and pleading eyes hoping for tender mercies. Mauricio stood and smiled at the huerfanos, the poor orphans of the city. He continued to smile even as the children began to rend and tear at his flesh, feeding on his blood and his love.The next day, at Sector, the flags were raised to half-staff and the Bishop said a prayer commending the soul of a fallen comrade to the Judgement of Barticus, as the quartermaster prepared the bunk for a new recruit.The City of Los Angeles would not be given up; the Pantheon would claim this city at any cost.</blockquote>

Verification