Jump to content

[Contest] Tales from survivors - Topic for contest entries

Recommended Posts

Best answer

Survivors! Please, do not forget that your story should be no longer than 1 000 characters including spaces!

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

The Haunted Truck

Me and my team went to find loot in the wastes and we found an abandoned truck. We approached it slowly to make sure no one was there. We investigated and it had weapons inside it. "Jackpot" said one of my teammates inside the truck. "Ok let's loot it and get out of here" I said. But it was too late. My teammate got trapped inside the truck with the weapons... the truck "came alive" and attacked us. It almost ran me over. We got into our vehicles and started shooting it. We shot cannons,grenades,missiles at it... nothing... It was invincible. We had no choice but to leave. It chased us until the garage.We locked ourselves in. Tomorrow we went back to the place. It was there,not moving. We approache slowly,out of our vehicles. I got into the driver seat and I got goosebumps. "Get out! It could be dangerous!" They said. "You're right." I said. I tried to get out but the seatbelt pulled me back. I don't remember anything else only that after it I had a really bad headache.

Link to post
Share on other sites
  • Replies 69
  • Created
  • Last Reply

Top Posters In This Topic

Top Posters In This Topic

Popular Posts

Survivors! This topic is for the "Tales from survivors" contest entries only. Any other comments, posts and discussions will be deleted; The entries should be submitted until 20:5

The Uprising. The drones were rebelling because of another strike from Crossout, the last survivor reached a tall office building, at the top floor there was an old-age computer, dusty and barely

BAD DAY WHEN PLAYING CROSSOUT    Hi I am a kid who likes to play online games, even often I play games in the middle of the night I often feel the strange things I always feel at the ti

An Elm Street Decor

"Hey M, these faces give me the heebie-jeebies" blurts Stone Def as he clangs shut the breach on his executioner. Stone kicks a glass of whiskey out of the way as he grabs another round to load. "These faces in founders canyon ain't nothin... BURP!" slurs M.

"M, hate to sound like your mom... CONTACT RIGHT!" exclaimed Stone. "Line me up!" "I've been seeing a face in my, hiccup, sleep that's worse than these" M jerked the car violently to the right. WHOOSH... a shell glances the left side of the car.

M shrieks! A splattering of sticky liquid covered Stones' legs while lining up his latest victim. "M!" silence... Then with a whoosh, Stone felt a tug at his waist. "M, what the F@#!" all that came out was silence. A liquid gushing down his legs followed by his innards. As his eyes closed he heard. "1, 2, Freddy's coming for you. 3, 4, better.."

"BOOM!" The car explodes and in the rubble, all that is left is a street sign that M placed on his car a week ago, Elm Street.

Edited by mbalrog6
Constructive Feedback to make it more readible
Link to post
Share on other sites

The Demons We Face

The match has just begun, foul acid in the air. The map is Factory. Driving through the industrial buildings, to avoid the eerie acid pool. Thirsty for blood to wet the dry grounds of this wasteland, I proceed. Nearly around the last bend, when 2 YOLO WASP BOTS COME OUT OF NO WHERE!!!! Heart skips a beat, panic and trembling in my figures. 2 bots straight out of hell, like grim reapers ready to take my soul!

Frantically firing and aiming for their guns, one slams into me; I stop breathing. SWOOSH SWOOSH, the sound of the rockets, depleted my health and armor. Two guns gone. I turn with trembling hands and manage to remove their weapons of death! VICTORY! I thought, until... ANOTHER YOLO WASP BOT rounds the corner! SWOOSH SWOOSH, KABOOM! I am dead, I am nothing, I have been defeated.... The demons have won... My worst nightmare!


  • Like 1
Link to post
Share on other sites

"Nobody likes you, they hate your fuze drones, i can hear the tears of salt dripping into the bloodstained wastes from here" 

whispered from the darkness was the last thing he heard.

Little Jonny looks up from his expensive workbench, his pudgy face stained forever Orange in a mix of paint & Pumpkin juice, his eyes widen, bulging as he realizes its to late to react, then poof, his head explodes violently as the sidekicks of his arch enemy fires from the shadows.

"well that done it, Side kick you're fired, wound him I said, make him suffer I said, oh well can't let these little sweeties go to waste, it is Halloween eve after all"

On a hill overlooking the wastes a short while later, many bright Orange Pumpkins speed off towards the enemy's encampments festivities, their explosiveness hidden inside Brightly lit glowing smiling faces. Pumpkins of doom full of BOOM fly over the walls, through cracks & water straight down the enemies throats, nothing could stop them, they had only one job to do & delivering their sweet pumpkany goodness was it! The looks on their faces said it all, clinging desperately to their ill gotten sweets they saw death coming & knew it to be the end, nothing could be done except to accept the inevitable...

Lolly scramble BOOM! hamburger BOOM! thanks mister for the lollipops BOOM! BOOM!! BOOM!!! BOOM!!!!

Fuze drones dressed up as Pumpkins, lol who could think of such a terrible thing?

based on a trews story......

Edited by SpeedLocked
Link to post
Share on other sites
Scrap fishing is fine, but you should take care. You may meet a guy who does not understand the words. For example, even now that you are interacting with you, the development of translation equipment is incomplete and the world has ended. Even if there is no linguistic problem, some people can not communicate. For example, a man with a head. A man without a head. The story goes back unless the word goes through, but the problem is whether it is a demon or a ghost. Were you treated the same in your country, or was it in my country? In any case, you should take care. It's not a case of being frightened by a guy like me who has only a head. It is the body that adds harm.
  • Confused 2
Link to post
Share on other sites

Apocaplypse then

Alomoran looked out across the wasteland wondering how they would survive the next few months. Raiders had been hiting them hard leaving them low on supplies and people. They needed an edge and the only place he could get that was to go see the Old Man.

He made the best gear living in an old mine full of traps and sentry guns. The only safe way in was to walk his line. It was a long journey but there was no other choice. So he loaded his rig with everything they could afford to trade and set out.

The place was a massive junkyard piles of scrap and old wrecks lay everywhere. The turret all turned to target him so he pulled to a stop grabbed his gear and stepped out his spine crawling with the feel of those guns pointing a him. He hauled his gear up to the camera at the gate and hollered "I am lookin' to trade Old Man" and laid out his gear then dropped his coat and slowly turned around. "Oh its you." he replied in his raspy old voice, "come on in follow the line or ... well you know what happens otherwise."

As Al approached the gate he saw a wire crate full of what looked like good fresh metal worked into spindly legs and spheres with wires hanging out and a smell of burnt electronics was evident as he passed it and went into the mine. It was blessedly cool in the mine and he walked down the white line marked for visitors and came to what must be the most heavily armed reception room in the wasteland a line of mini-guns pointed down the corridor but the Old man sat in his chair his dog at his feet and smiled, "Ain't seen you in sometime whacha after?".

I told him I needed an edge something to turn the tide, the raiders were getting worse, suicidal in thier attempts to dislodge us from the pump jacks and refinery.

"Well I might have something," He said "Been working on some drones, little mini drones that can get into a cab and overpower the driver leaving a nice shiny rig to be taken, problem is they ain't talking to each other. I leave em to do a task and they fry. I need some high class chips and I see you have some to trade. So you give me those chip and the spare fuel you bought and I will give you a cannon turret to defend you pump jacks and the first batch of these new drones."

"What are these drones like?" I asked, "Well you saw the spindly legs an' bodies at the door. I saw you eyeing the scrap they are designed to talk to each other to make decision how to overpower the occupants of a rig. Got electrodes for spinal injections to paralyse a person and take over their nervous system. The launcher fires then in sets of 4 and they magnetise to latch onto a rig then search and decide best way to take it over. I just need the good chips to get em working properly." he replied obviously enthusiastic about his new creation

"All the readings indicate they are talking to each other, but they don't do anything till they overheat and fry. Come back in a month I will have em done." He smiled as he leaned down and gave his dog a treat, "This old fella feels a bad as I do I, I reckon! Now get gone, I will send a bot with the turret."

Once back Al set up the turret and it proved it worth several times, he reckoned it was worth the chips alone but still the new drones would be a true advantage

Next month he went back, at the mine entrance he noticed all the previous failures had been removed from the crate he hoped that was a good sign and the new weapon was working. He buzzed the intercom and it crackled into life but no sound came out then the gate opened, strange that he Old man would leave something like that broken.

The lights flickered on and off and the usual silence was broken by quiet scraping sounds and and the scurrying tick tack of what must be rats. Maybe that's what had broken the intercom, Al thought, they must have chewed a wire.

Al walked into the reception room and the old man sitting in his chair his dog at his feet. He didn't look up as Al came into the room and all the mini-gun turrets were shut down by the look of it. Al stopped for a moment but the old man didn't move so he coughed thinking maybe he had fallen asleep. At the sound of his cough the dog moved it skin seemed to shift around unnaturally and with a faint clicking noise its head slowly lifted up. Its dead eyes were looking at him all dried and misted over when a mechanical "woof" came from it.

"Hey old man," he said nervously "Sorry your dog died!" The old man just sat there slumped so Al slowly approached him. "Did you get those drones working?" he asked as he stopped in front of him.  A raspy voice responded "yes, we fixed the drones fixed them all!" as the old mans head slumped back his hat slid off revealing a spider like bot clamped to his head with wires and cables pushed into his skull the old man looked at me with blank eyes and said "we are better now we understand we need to make everything like us". Al started to back away, as the shadows came alive with movement and the scurrying tip tapping sound of tiny feet,  they swarmed towards him and Al turned and ran.

Edited by AgentOrange63563
minor grammar
Link to post
Share on other sites

The Story Goes Something Like This: True Story By The Way

There was once a game, a game of building vehicles in the leftovers of the world, but a group of men who had previous careers of military units and bounty hunters decided to join in...

They had a group called the Steppenwolfs,  and they brought there own types of weapons and parts into the wasteland, but one weapon which was said to be created with the darkest of magic and with the evilest of intents, was the, dare I say its name, the Sidekick Drone...

This weapon was feared among all who saw it, some surviviors say they where as if packs of wolves, who would hunt you down until your were nothing but dead and forgotten. But after a long while, survivors became equipped to fight this fire, with the same exact fire, then the Game of Drones Era began, but soon, another even darker magic would appear...

A group called the Knight Riders saw this devastating power, and saw an opportunity to seize it for even greater destruction, and with even more evil intent, they manifested, the Fuze Drone, this drone was welded with the fires of hell, and was not to be messed with, this vehicle could be seen for miles, but was so fast, that most men could not even scratch it, and was so scary, most men stood there giving it the '1000 yard stare' helpless to there own fear, this weapon had the chassis of the Sidekick Drone, but had a bomb built right on top of it, and could easily destroy anything that had contact with the ground...

The story ends here, for this story is still developing, because all of this is real....


Edited by Dengar_
Link to post
Share on other sites

Rain Singer

By Jesse Rexroad. [aka rexroad33 or JJDRexroad on Steam, just another PC Player] 13 October 2017


The old man stood quietly behind the saloon’s bar. He could see activity in the small town through the open door. Typically, the trade route has seen normal traffic from the Engineer and Scavenger factions. Occasionally someone from the Steppenwolves would frequent his old tin shack of a bar. Unfortunately, things have been quiet, and he had no regular patrons.

Today, he watched an unusual sleek car park out front, and then its driver stepping out onto the broken asphalt. They both looked familiar while out of place at the same time. The breeze outside picked up a little, and it looked to carry the usual oily dust from the road.

The barman’s attention went back to the driver as he entered through the battered batwing doors that hung in the doorway. They gently swung close as the stranger removed his sunglasses. The driver was too clean for these parts. Too clean for any region of the world. Manicured. The driver saddled himself on the rusty barstool.

“What will it be?” The barkeep asked as he strolled up near the new face.

“Anything with high octane.”

The bartender didn’t hesitate. In one deft motion, he pulled a clear bottle with a crystal-clear liquid inside. A shot glass sat ready to receive a finger worth. Once filled, it was pushed across the bar top to the visitor. The driver picked the alcoholic drink up and tilted his head back. Draining the content in a single gulp. Appearing satisfied, he slapped the small glass cup, top rim down, on the counter with one hand. His other hand followed as it slapped down a coin.

The old man was close enough to see that the coin was minted. Even with poor eyesight, he could tell it was from a different century. From a different nationality that is no longer around. It was dated with the barman’s birth year. 1970. That made him physically uncomfortable.

He forced his scrutiny back onto the stranger. Too clean for certain. The clothes seemed freshly laundered. A luxury that is no longer available. Then there is the car to consider. It gleamed in the dull sunlight. It was manufactured. Not scrounged together and then welded into a wheeled junkpile. Any man of resource and wealth wouldn’t have anything as nice as that parked out front.

If he sorted through his memory long enough, the old man might remember which logo it was on the stranger’s jacket that matched the badge on the driver’s car. This is something else that is out of place to current affairs of today’s world climate.

“What brings you to these parts?” The barkeep asked.

“The coming rain.”

The barman heard something hollow in the stranger’s voice. Rain? That hasn’t been seen nor talked about on this part of the trade route. There is still a morning dew that collects and can make the ground muddy. Rain? Nothing as familiar as what the old man might remember.

“Rain?” The barkeep asked.

“When the clouds appear to glow bright blue and the air smells of sulfur, the grey rain is going to bring a lot of misery and pain.”

“Acid Rain!?!” The barkeep became fearful at the prospect.

The driver fitted his sunglasses across his face, smiled, and then turned to face the bar entrance. He didn’t say anything. He did stay and wait. Expecting. The back of his jacket had two colorful crossed flags embroidered into the dark silky fabric. They appeared like large angelic wings.

“We haven’t seen the likes of that since…”

“Since the factories died.” The stranger interrupted. “Since the last flames of civilization.”

The stranger turned his head to face the old man. Something devilish appeared in the driver’s smirk. The bartender could see himself reflected in the stranger’s dark lenses. Despite failing vision, the barkeep could see everything clearly. Even the fog that clouded his mind lifted. He could recall more.

Outside on the horizon, the dull sunlight started to wink out. The brown hazy sky was eclipsed by billowing clouds. The coming storm rolled down the rocky hillside and through high spires and cliffs. A stray glare of sunlight clawed in through the bar’s partially open doorway. In a flash of sizzling steam, the stranger, his car, and the old man were gone.

Among the broken still standing wreckage of buildings in the small crossroad town, people were caught unaware by the sudden rain. At first, the small population welcomed the cool wetness. Then, they began to scream as their bodies melt. A few souls that slept in sound and secure shelter were startled awake.

These few folks would soon find out that many townspeople didn’t survive.



Edited by rexroad33
Even some things get missed by Grammarly.
Link to post
Share on other sites

Stone Water

October, in the desert, sun, wrecks, no water. The survivors fight without standstill, one of them get further over the great iron dune. A field of pumpkins with a great fountain to the center. Gaart, its name, goes down from its vehicle and begins to drink, immediately sees its hands turn into stone! Few instants and he is petrified, but he sees and feels everything. The pumpkins go out of underground, they have long legs and deep yellow eyes. One of them lean the forehead to his and it steal the semblances of it, it puts the helmet and it gets further. He returns with the whole team of Gaart, amazed they begin to drink. All petrify! The pumpkins have stolen identity to everybody, they drink and dance around the fire, it is the night of Halloween. Morning, begins to rain, the statues are bathed and return human, the pumpkins are again underground, immovable. The fountain is there, nobody will drink, but that evening the survivors ate for the whole night pumpkins.

Link to post
Share on other sites

The Lunatics tell a story around Halloween - The legend of Khankenstein. It speaks of one very crazy survivor of the apocalypse, one of the first of the faction, on who the disaster impacted greatly.

He was indeed an inventor, but he lacked mechanical parts and other resources as well and started to think of alternative. First he came up with using human hair weaved together into strong ropes.

He was so successful with this, soon he came up with more ideas using human resources for his crafts. With each effective part his sanity faded more. He became obsessed with gaining human parts for his monstrous Leviathan made entirely of bodies. The “machine”, bone made chassis, human trophies scattered over the skin covered surface - was so repulsive that even other Lunatics feared it. It was mostly because it was them who he targeted in his night harvest raids.

That is why Lunatics decorate their vehicles such way, to make Khankenstein leave them be, because he would think he sees his own work.

Link to post
Share on other sites

The Surgeon


Derek Carter had everything before the crossout came by; qualifications, medical degrees and the loving support of his family. After society fell to its knees, it meant nothing to others except from himself. He started a way to help everyone reunite again by finding a cure.

But over the years of research, he came to a conclusion that there was a no cure for the crossout. Instead he decided to do some 'other' experiments. He decided to use his enemies as a tool and a source of intel through brutal torture techniques, this made him seen as an asset to his group. However the few sights of guts and blood, the screams of torture and combined with isolation, Derek lost his sanity, evil motivated him and Torture ended up being his main entertainment. his peers were concerned and only known him as "The Surgeon" from his enjoyment of dirty and gory work.

it was only a few weeks later, when everyone discovered the demise of all his victims. As for The Surgeon, him and his vehicle were gone.

Edited by Ashdebruin_99
Updating the story from the visuals of it
Link to post
Share on other sites
Egor was logged on as PwnzU2 playing Crossout with Fedor on Halloween. They were farming the Steel Tyrant in Invasion Mode.
PwnzU2: Steel too easy
Fedor00: We got this
PwnzU2: I could beat Steel in my KIA
Fedor00: LOLZ, Steel is a Punk

Suddenly there was a loud knocking at Egor's door. He had the lights off but trick or treaters still came. More knocking at the door. "Go away there is no candy" yelled Egor. "Egor come out and face me in your KIA" yelled a loud booming voice. Egor heard large motors running close. He ran to the nearest window and looked outside. A gigantic vehicle was on his street with large cannons pointed at his door. There was a loud sound as every cannon boomed. Egor screamed and ran. It was too late. Meanwhile Fedor was waiting for Egor to return from AFK. He looked at his screen.
Fedor heard a loud knock at his door.
  • Haha 1
  • Confused 2
Link to post
Share on other sites

Waking after the Night of the Full Blood Moon. My mind full of visions our Goddess Brigid had sent to me thru the night. Our Festival and Prayers focused on the much-needed water we have been lacking over the last year.


 Walking into the shop to find a Monster Machine no one had seen before. Blended of Power and in the Symbol of our Goddess. Screams of Joy ringing from our roof lookouts! water Water WATER.!..!!!


 Opening the bay doors to see what is causing such a charge of Joy in our camp. The Monster Machine comes alive and heads outside. Shredding the captured machine of our enemy in the yard. Heading to . . . Oh the Love of our Goddess WATER it is spinning above the Water so needed by our people which our Goddess has brought to us this year of such need.


 I wish you; well We wish you a Blessed Be year of your own. But understand Our Goddess Brigid shall protect us and shred any and ALL! who threaten her Children.


https://1drv.ms/v/s!AhX2qiQXcPQWhWgap3QCbrvg6k0R   Visual of part of the story... 

Link to post
Share on other sites

The Wasted Days

As darkness falls over October 31st, children would pretend to have blotched arms, glowing eyes, and painful sores. They would go prowling in the dark for cheap and sticky sweets, scaring passers-by. Little did they know that those would be the last few months of their long-forgotten existence, pretending to be what they really are now. Now they are the glowing eyes hiding behind ramparts, fighting for a world they once loved, but wasted away. The blotched arms that brandish the axe, ready to clobber down anyone who tries to put the world back the way it was. The painful sores, of which the owners could show how far they had come, only to throw themselves back into the flame of battle, never to return home. The beasts we all loved pretending to be now cloak round ourselves in reality. We keep our creativity by making the most dangerous of armoured vehicles, and conceal our fear behind the protection of the steering wheel. Those days wasted should have been the ones most cherished...

Link to post
Share on other sites

4 neue Crossout-Spieler beschließen, nicht zu schlafen und die ganze Nacht an Halloween zu spielen. Alle 8 Spieler gehen frei für alle und sie sehen, dass 4 gruselige Wahnsinnige mit blutigen Sägen Feinde sind, s! sie haben nicht bemerkt, dass nur 1 überleben kann, also versuchen sie sich zu verstecken, aber die Feinde haben cameleon, s Boom! Mit einem blutigen Treffer starb der erste Spieler, das Blut geht über die Karte, es sind nur noch 3 übrig. 2 Spieler, die versuchen zu fliehen, sahen aber nicht, dass sich 1 im Inneren des Busches versteckt, Spieler starb an seinen Wunden.

Link to post
Share on other sites

The Book

by NamelesxKing

Sweat and fear. Max was sweating from the heat in Terminal as he scavenges and pries open containers found in the waste. Fear for his life as nightfall approaches and the road home becomes more perilous. All five containers he opened contained nothing more than scraps of no value.  One more container he whispered to himself while wiping the sweat raining down his face, hoping his luck to change and to land on something of epic value. Breaking the final container opened, his hope was dashed, as inside of it contained just a single book. Without time to waste, he packed up his gathered scraps, the book and sped off on his ride.

Misha, Max’s girlfriend, was waiting anxiously for him to return. Waiting at home in one of derelict buildings in the Old Town, amid the ruined wastes was the best they could do for now. She embraces him with joy that he’s still alive and unhurt. He’s looks at her with guilt and failure as he shares his latest findings of the day. He promises her their luck will change. But she doesn’t care as she only wants him to be safe by her side.

While Misha goes to prepare them dinner, Max was in his room, calculating on how many coins he could get from the scraps. His gaze falls upon the book he found. He didn’t have a good look at it before due to the darkness and the rush. Picking it up and he realizes the book looks very old but well preserved, almost new. It has the look of grandiose as if from an ancient and forgotten age. He’s face brightening with hope and excitement as he thinks he may have just come upon an ancient relic. This valuable book could change his and Misha’s fate in this horrible world.

Max took a sit on the floor as he was trembling with excitement. There was no title or any form of writing on the cover of the book. With trembling fingers he begins to flip open the cover to the first page. On that slightly tinged yellow page were hand written words in black ink. Looks like a diary of some sort. Max collects his composure as he begins to read. “December 13, 1799”. That can’t be right Max thought as he continues reading. “I woke up alone in this wide green field. The sun is blazing above me. How did I get here I wondered to myself. I feel so hungry. A herd of cows are grazing nearby. Why do I feel so hungry? I can’t control my hunger. Those cows do look appetizing, maybe I’ll eat them. Yes they do taste so good, each and every one of them. My hunger’s gone now and I feel so sleepy. Maybe I’ll take a quick nap now.” 

Max was confused at what he just read. Hoping to make sense of what the author is writing, he flips to the next page and begins reading. “May 13, 1879”. Max reread the dates again; the author must be fooling around he thinks as he continues. “I woke up and this time I’m lying on a dirt road in the dark. How did I get here this time. I can’t remember anything. The hunger is back. I need to eat. What’s this coming down the road? Are those lights from lanterns? A horse carriage I see. The hunger, I need to eat. Come closer. Come closer to me and let me eat. They taste so delicious; I’ve never tried horses and humans before. They have made me quite sleepy now though. I think I’ll nap once more”

Max feels a chill going down his spine. Something feels wrong reading this book. His years after the Crossout have made his senses sharp and awareness to danger very acute. His instincts are telling him to stop reading and get rid of the book. But then he remembers the coins he could get from selling it. He turned to the next page and continues reading. “August 13, 1989. I woke up and find myself on a weird road. I’ve never seen this kind of road before. Made from wood and steel. There’s a loud noise coming closer to me. It looks like a long caterpillar but made from metal. Hunger. The hunger is back. The caterpillar is coming right for me. The caterpillar is hurting me! Why does it hurt me by trampling over me? Stop it! Let me eat you! As I was eating to my surprise there were humans inside this caterpillar. How they screamed as I ate them all. How they all screamed and taste so good.”

Max screamed in fear and threw the book across the room. He feels himself in danger. He feels uncontrollable fear gripping him. He can hear Misha asking him what’s wrong from the kitchen. But he couldn’t answer her as he was gasping for air. He made up his mind to get this book as far away from his girlfriend and himself. He took a deep breath and slowly goes over to the book. He noticed it was flipped open to an empty page but just as he was about to pick it up, he screamed.

Misha ran over to the room wondering what the screaming was all about. She calls out to Max but there was no answer from inside. She slowly opens the door. Inside the room was all but dark except for the light coming from the hallway. She couldn’t see Max. Misha suddenly notices the book laying on the ground in the middle of the room. Laying in a puddle of red liquid. The book was opened and she reads what’s written. “October 31, 2025. Somebody woke me up from my nap. I’m very hungry. Who is this human in this room with me? Come here. Yes he does tastes so good. I think his name was Max. You do taste so good Max. So good.”

Word count: 1000

Edited by NamelesxKing
  • Like 1
Link to post
Share on other sites


Gent grunts at the price of the Vector. It used to be he could take Jess’ homemade machine guns and turn a profit at the market. Nowadays he could get more for the scrap he spent hours collecting but he wasn’t about to tell her that, especially since it was the first thing she found peace in since her mom was taken 2 years ago by raiders.

A loud cackle freezes Gent. A knot forms in his stomach and he can feel his hands start to shake. Again, the cackle pierces the air of the market and Gent identifies the source; a garish clown head mounted on a spring. It’s a car horn that he hasn’t heard in 2 years.

Hoarsely he asks where it came from. “Th’maker of em goes by ‘Whyso’ an’ he live o’er in Gullytown but he only be sellin’ to dat gang,” says one of the owners, “…the one dat runs outta Spark. Tis safer to jus’ pay me!”  

“Gullytown. Two days travel up the dry riverbed?” The owner nods.

Gent opens an ammo pack and smiles at the 88mm shells inside. “I’ll take this. I’m going hunting.”


Link to post
Share on other sites

It was the evening of 31st Octobre and Sarah was happy that she had finally found a group of survivors with equal ambitions as her. Things started to settle down again and she even found a partner, Jake, with whom she could even imagine to have a family, she thougt while sitting on a trunk in his arms right next to the campfires burning down from the party, which was in its last breaths. "Jake, have you already seen Geralt this evening?" "No but I would be surprised if we did. He never goes to parties especially not in the night, you know. He reached us half dead almost 3 Years ago, telling us his whole group was violently murdered, while they had a big fest and that he was the only survivor. He just survived because he went to bad earlier because of some headache and hid under his bed. All he can remember was a big black hearse. His folks got quickly murderd by some AI controlled disgusting weapons. From a gap between the planks of his cabins wall he could observe how some guys in black coats went up to the dead bodies with some kind of medical instrument. When he heard  how the car drove away he crawled out just to find the dead bodies with empty cracked open skulls of his people. Terrible,..."

Sarah went to bad with Jake, but haunted by the story she just heard it was a restless sleep. She was in her car but it was smaller than usual and it went round and round in circles around those gigantic seeming other cars. She quickly got sick and had to avert her eyes from the front window down to the steering wheel and her knees should be. But they werent there. Just an axle with a pair of wheels.

Bleep, bleep, bleep.


Link to post
Share on other sites

Title is Doctor Burkenstein. An Ex Steppenwolf Scientist, who got expelled because some crazy experiments. Peopel say hes working with the Lunatics now but even they think hes carzy as xxxx. I made a build but sadly its not finished yet. But you get the Idea Huntsman. Drones. Youll find it under the stories title.

Link to post
Share on other sites
  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    No registered users viewing this page.

  • Create New...