Glenn, once again, leads the way. His broad paw falls on the first step, and the entire shack groans in agony. You follow him into the ancient shack. The light quickly dwindles; only the whispy, pale block of light behind you remains.
"Glen? The shit you do'n here?" A growl of a voice smacks you upside the head before you can see a thing. "An who else is with you thur?"
Glenn moves out of the way to reveal what appears to be a saloon. A musty bar stands in front of you, as well as countless destroyed chairs. Flames float in the air without any rhyme or reason. Above the bar hangs an enormous and ornate dreamcatcher, devoid of any apparent dust or cobwebs.
"Just a friend of mine. We came here because he"
"Used to be a human, right? There's too much junk in his mind for him to be anything else."
Amazed by the offhand comment, you totally ignore the included insult. "Well, yeah."
"Damn straight you were! Hop up here."
You approach the bar and hoist yourself onto one of the few remaining stools. Behind the counter stands a ghastly figure. What used to be a snow-white rabbit has decayed into a grey, shedding figure. His eyes are glazed over: he's probably blind. All sorts of talismans hang from the ancient creature. His short, grizzly ears still bother to stick straight up.
"Name's Plazzo, kid. You want som'm drink?"
"Uh, nice to meet you, sir." Eyeing the dusty bottles behind him, you decide to forgo the drink.
"Bullshit it is! You would'n be here if you didn'n have a problem, so I know its not 'nice to meet me'. And your havin a damn drink, kiddo. Pick yer poison."
Taken aback, you try to get on Plazzo's good side. "Surprise me."
"That means you don' know whats-a goin on right about know. All fuzzy in the head, ya know? You got a pair right now, Glenn?"
"Do your worst, old man."
"An I will!" The grizzled rabbit whips out a pair of highball glasses from under the counter and a pair of amber bottles from behind him. He uncorks each with his thumb and sloshes them over the top of both glasses. "This shi'll make ya see stars. Bottoms up, boys!"
You grab your glass by the edges and sip precariously. It hits you like a punch in the face. In the middle of your drinking, Plazo begins to talk.
"So, watcha itchin to do first, gettin outta that digi-body or gettin the hell out of Alcrux?"
Copyright 2000 - 2025 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.11 seconds at 10:42am on Apr 11, 2025 via server WEBX2.