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The two of you spend most of the next morning hiking. Clarice expertly clears the path with her machete while you keep your eyes peeled for anything useful things -- a mushroom patch, a berry bush, an abandoned car-you know-- that kind of thing.
A little before lunchtime your aunt stops.
“Here we are” she announces.
A pretty valley spreads out below you, all green and brown like the trees and brush you have hiked through all day. But there is also the grey of pavement, the fading paint of derelict houses and the outrageous colors of cars and billboards. Its an empty town, and you and your aunt have come to explore and scavenge it, bringing back whatever you can find to your families back home. It looks exciting. Fun. Delicious even. You can taste the canned goods already.
“Where should we start?” you ask eagerly, but Clarice is strangely quiet. With a short gesture and a raised eyebrow she silences you. You both freeze, listening.
From the town below you can hear the muffled sounds of growling motors, clanking metal and people shouting. Someone else is here already.
Clarice has become suddenly very serious, although also very calm. Using only looks and gestures, she instructs you to keep absolutely quiet and then the two of you begin to slink through the town, hoping to get a look at your unexpected company.
You stalk past a row of rotting houses, stopping behind some brush surrounding an abandoned gas station. Six or seven leather clad men and women have run some kind of hose underground, trying to siphon up fuel for their pack of motorcycles. They are all loud and dirty, as well as angry and rude. There are no children with them, and they all have their greasy hair tied in colorful rags. Every one single one of them are carrying large knives or clubs. From each of their motorcycles flies a black flag with white letters:
“The Rode Pie Rats!"
You’ve been warned many times about hooligan gangs like this. They spend all their time marauding across the ancient highways, searching for more fuel for their vehicles, looting, kidnapping, slave trading, and spray painting everything on the way.
“This is bad!” You can't help but whisper. Clarice puts a finger to her mouth, but nods her agreement.
Then she does the unthinkable.
Your Aunt sneezes!
Do you stay hidden and hope the gang didn’t notice the noise? (sorry! this option is still being written! try back later!)
Or do you step boldly out in the open try to act unafraid? Click here.
A little before lunchtime your aunt stops.
“Here we are” she announces.
A pretty valley spreads out below you, all green and brown like the trees and brush you have hiked through all day. But there is also the grey of pavement, the fading paint of derelict houses and the outrageous colors of cars and billboards. Its an empty town, and you and your aunt have come to explore and scavenge it, bringing back whatever you can find to your families back home. It looks exciting. Fun. Delicious even. You can taste the canned goods already.
“Where should we start?” you ask eagerly, but Clarice is strangely quiet. With a short gesture and a raised eyebrow she silences you. You both freeze, listening.
From the town below you can hear the muffled sounds of growling motors, clanking metal and people shouting. Someone else is here already.
Clarice has become suddenly very serious, although also very calm. Using only looks and gestures, she instructs you to keep absolutely quiet and then the two of you begin to slink through the town, hoping to get a look at your unexpected company.
You stalk past a row of rotting houses, stopping behind some brush surrounding an abandoned gas station. Six or seven leather clad men and women have run some kind of hose underground, trying to siphon up fuel for their pack of motorcycles. They are all loud and dirty, as well as angry and rude. There are no children with them, and they all have their greasy hair tied in colorful rags. Every one single one of them are carrying large knives or clubs. From each of their motorcycles flies a black flag with white letters:
“The Rode Pie Rats!"
You’ve been warned many times about hooligan gangs like this. They spend all their time marauding across the ancient highways, searching for more fuel for their vehicles, looting, kidnapping, slave trading, and spray painting everything on the way.
“This is bad!” You can't help but whisper. Clarice puts a finger to her mouth, but nods her agreement.
Then she does the unthinkable.
Your Aunt sneezes!
Do you stay hidden and hope the gang didn’t notice the noise? (sorry! this option is still being written! try back later!)
Or do you step boldly out in the open try to act unafraid? Click here.
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