The long caravan of people was slowly moving northwards. The evacuation of the south was in progress. The cold weather was steadily creeping north and the council had ruled that the pople of Shaba would move north as well.
New temporary settlements had been established all over the northern parts of the steppes. Here the winters werent quite as cold, and the snow wasnt quite as deep. The Senate had ruled that all settlements should be fortified to a lesser degree to protect the people from the starving beasts of the wild.
This was the day of the usual mid-winter feast, but this year it was bleaker than usual. People were huddeling together to ward off the worst of the cold as they waited in line for soup and bread. This was usual buisness these days. The food was being rationed, to make it last through the winter. People were content with this as long as everybody had to. As the winters grew harsher even the nobles had to obey this decree. Everybody was small-talking about current events, domestical as international.
"Have you heard! The dead are walking !!! Horrible bodies, and they WALK!"
"I heard that a farm-wife got visited by her dead husband. She was cooking (not cocking) dinner as always, when he came through the door and sat down at the table demanding dinner as he used to do all those years ago. She freaked out and ran as fast as she could to the chapel of Chamdar. They say she was frothing at the mouth and her eyes were shaky. Now they keep her in a locked room in the basement. She keeps ranting about the dead walking."
"With all the wars going on, soon we will have an army of walking dead.!"
"The Triad is falling, we are winning the war."
"The battle was magnificent, scores of Wu'Di forces fell under the rain of arrows from the Shabows. Our adepts exploded the earth making the enemy army fall by the regiments."
"Our soup kitchens are a success, even the nobles has to succumb during these hard times."
People were terrified. Rumors were spreading and stories about the dead making cities and even nations of their own. It was not uncommon that people were sleeping at day and staying away all night with a cudgel ready to bash in the scull of a desceased husband, son or uncle.
Times come and go, and time becomes history, history becomes legend and lengends becomes myth. We will have to await the future to know the outcome of the present. May all luck be with us.
Oops, I think I revealed myself there...
I got #1000! I pwn you all!
WTH? Stop perverting my NES!
