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The Fury

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Red is what she saw.

Red is the color of Fury

She mounted blades and spikes on her vehicle as and named it Vengence.

Red is the color of Revenge.

 

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The same color that poured from between the young girls pale thighs and bare slit throat.

Blood mingled with mud and became black, like the sky.



A new storm swept to the unsuspecting camp of men, smug with their recent debauchery.

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The Warlords -Interview with the Cannibal King

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Sang sat at Reaver bridge in the same seat as always, her journal laying on her lap and open to the last entry.  She had felt the connection snap .. and it was gone.  Her face could have been made of stone for all the emotion it showed.

He was gone, yet in a way would always remain in the wastelands as the legend who roamed, raided and incited fear like few ever had.  Perhaps he slept deep within the womb of lifenet, as she never had.

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Journal of a CHOTA Queen- The Warlords part 1 - Kyotan

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We do what we must, excuses are nothing more then cop outs for the spineless that struggles to keep the illusion of strength.

So....I am yet again in the Enforcer dog and Tech sheep infested cesspit that is Flagstaff.  My loathing for this town is unchanged but still it is a place of gathering and I've more of our stories to write.

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Sara Miller

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What am I going to do?

Where can I go?

My family is dead now, killed by raiders and what little we had stolen or burned.

All I have is what I have on, a notebook and a pencil..oh and this shovel.

Nothing do to now but start walking and hope for the best.

Maybe I can find work somewhere .. maybe shoveling out stables.

*Sara wipes her brow with a faded bandana and ties it around a tanned, collar bare neck. Hours later she arrives exhausted in South Burb and rests beneath a tree.*

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Journal of a CHOTA Queen- Part three

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 I am losing track of who's story I had thought to write before my hand grows cold and stiff

The restless ones around me are as living moving air jostling each other as they vie for my pen and so

I read back and and realize..our lives consists almost entirely of other people.

There can be no "My Story", only Ours..

The Children of the Apocalypse.

They will always be part of me and nothing can change that. 

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Journal of a CHOTA Queen- Part two

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None of this will be a straight arrow from past to present but random jumps as memories push through to be first wanting to be heard, needing the stories to be told before my immortality melts into the darkness like shadows at sunset.   


Even in this I follow the ways of Chaos. 

 

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Journal of a CHOTA Queen- Part one

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The youthful face lifenet had so kindly provided 

 held a pair of very old eyes that would reflect a soul that

was fading under the advancing time she had been in

continuous existance.

 

She had stopped counting, but had been there for it all.  

End of the world they knew and amid burning cinderblock, the

rise of another, of a Fallen Earth.

 

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The Search for Home

((Testing to see if changing membership to moderated makes a difference per Reaper. It didn't work.. dammit to hell. 

Anyway just a short note on what Sang is currently doing IC.))

Sang felt her blight wolf shift restlessly beneath her as she stared out towards the horizon but instead gazed into the distant past. A place that called to her and was the source of her only guilt which had followed her well over a hundred years.

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Posters Removed

Post removed due to lack of interest

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The Monsters Within

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She sat on her bike staring at North Burb from the outskirts with empty eyes. The toxin laced conversation she had with the Enforcer Sheriff taking its turn playing through her mind. When he suspiciously asked why she would go look for his female to bring home, all she could say is that she wanted it all over for the sake of the CHOTA.   

 

He didn't believe her, but mostly it was true.  Perhaps the final closure of Angeleyes return would  end it all for her as well , allowing her to remove herself from all non-CHOTA presence and let her mind heal.

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Ghost of Karma's Past

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Brother, I hope this letter reaches you through vast wasteland that separates us and hope with all my being we can one day be together again. Until then I send a part of me within the confines of these pages.

 

Perhaps you will even read them some day.

 

  I knew he had been raising hell, it was one of the things I liked about Aiidoneus.  He didn't try to keep the peace with the Enforcers who call themselves Badgers. I had not seen him in about a week or two but heard about his ongoing bouts with the law. 

 

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by Dr. Radut