Post by stramn on Oct 12, 2009 18:25:38 GMT -5
He had traveled the world for decades, fought monsters, humans, vampires, outsiders, and for what? To find his place in Valhalla? To end his Immortal life on the blade or by the bullet of some unknown foe? This wolf had seen the world move through the never-ending cycles of war, peace, catastrophe, and then back around again and again, and again. The system had become tiresome, and he was sick of it all. "Why?" That was the question the echoed through the broken factory, past the machines of a time that certainly wasn't his own. "Why have I come here to this land once again?" He questioned. Memories of the last time he was here, some decades ago when war was upon the world, when being an Immortal meant living a secret double life, one where people had no idea that things went bump in the night, and that a war was being fought in the shadows ran though his mind.
His hands in his pockets, the tattered rags of a long coat flowed behind him as he walked around the broken machines of man. His feet crushed the bones of dead mice was he turned to view a rather large machine at the corner of an aisle way. As his steel blue eyes moved over it, he could see the rust beginning to take over the yellow paint that once covered the large robotic arm of the assembly platform. What the machine used to put together, the Finn wasn't sure, but he did know that the metal it was made from could be melted down and used for a greater purpose in this new age of post apocalypse. That was an odd thing to think though, post apocalypse, had Ragnarok already come and passed? He let loose a small grin and a smaller yet chuckle, "I must be losing my mind." That being said the wolf turned and sought out the break room, "Maybe there is something to eat, it has only been a year or so since the power had been shut off, certain things couldn't of gone bad yet."
He moved to the door and gave it a slight push, entering the dank little corner of the factory where the peons could sit back and relax for fifteen or twenty minutes out of their shift. The room wasn't very big, only around thirty square feet with a few tables and some vending machines in the corner. One of these said machines was for cola, another for food, and the third which was much smaller, held a large sign above it "CAMEL." How long had it been since he had inhaled the disgusting smoke of a cigarette? A year? maybe 20? This was no time to begin that habit again though, but a Coke, that would be nice. The male moved over and with slight pull he was able to open the front of the machine. The cans were stacked inside, though all that was left was diet. "Just great, Diet." It seemed that beggars couldn't choose though. So the wolf was forced to settle for Diet Coke, once again.
His hands in his pockets, the tattered rags of a long coat flowed behind him as he walked around the broken machines of man. His feet crushed the bones of dead mice was he turned to view a rather large machine at the corner of an aisle way. As his steel blue eyes moved over it, he could see the rust beginning to take over the yellow paint that once covered the large robotic arm of the assembly platform. What the machine used to put together, the Finn wasn't sure, but he did know that the metal it was made from could be melted down and used for a greater purpose in this new age of post apocalypse. That was an odd thing to think though, post apocalypse, had Ragnarok already come and passed? He let loose a small grin and a smaller yet chuckle, "I must be losing my mind." That being said the wolf turned and sought out the break room, "Maybe there is something to eat, it has only been a year or so since the power had been shut off, certain things couldn't of gone bad yet."
He moved to the door and gave it a slight push, entering the dank little corner of the factory where the peons could sit back and relax for fifteen or twenty minutes out of their shift. The room wasn't very big, only around thirty square feet with a few tables and some vending machines in the corner. One of these said machines was for cola, another for food, and the third which was much smaller, held a large sign above it "CAMEL." How long had it been since he had inhaled the disgusting smoke of a cigarette? A year? maybe 20? This was no time to begin that habit again though, but a Coke, that would be nice. The male moved over and with slight pull he was able to open the front of the machine. The cans were stacked inside, though all that was left was diet. "Just great, Diet." It seemed that beggars couldn't choose though. So the wolf was forced to settle for Diet Coke, once again.