User:Buda Hilton /The Travels of Buda
From The Urban Dead Wiki
19th January 2009.
Well, I've done it, I've left Stanbury Village on a grand adventure to spread the word of Rotter's Relief!
I'm a bit scared actually. Which is weird seeing as I've spent the last year and a half as the main target for every loonie and griefer in the Central area. Even Kyle the Feared fills me full of lead every time he passes through Stanbury...
...or is that the grandiosity and paranoia speaking?
Anyway, I think its got more to do with actually leaving Stanbury by choice. Of course I've been forced out a couple of times - that business with The Dead last year and LUE the year before (actually, its probably time for another super-dooper mega-horde, they tend to pop up about once a year...), but I've never actually chosen to leave for a long period of time. I mean, it took me ages to remember I started off in the Houldenbank office for God's sake, and before that... I can't even remember.
But anyway, I'm on my way, Semetairee and one of Natak's weird chums are coming too and I'm hoping for a nice, slightly ruined burb with not too much repair work and not too many Harmanz about (Note to self - drop the Zombeez. Its not big and its not clever and you're not in the ghetto any more).
As this is a travel book, I guess I should put some travel-type stuff in. Let's see. I was surprised that North Stanbury looked so alien, given its the burb I've been living in for a year or more. Passing through and into Ridleybank, I was surprised to see it all built up and caded - some of the buildings were even powered! When the RRF get home they're going to be pissed and no doubt won't confine their feelings to within the boundaries of RB. I'll drop Gaucho a line about that.
Now I'm holed up in Shearbank which I have just noticed is classed as a red suburb - not good, although it seems pretty secure with a vibrant local culture of cading every building mercilessly, interesting cuisine (mainly cat it seems) and native Shearbankians leaping across the roofs and scuttling across the streets ignoring each other whilst on their day to day chores. The place I'm staying in is caded nicely with a number of faces I actually remember vaguely. I think they remember me too as they have just offered me a leg of the cat they're roasting. We just need the amusingly eccentric hotelier now and everything would be perfect.
I should make Millen Hills tomorrow and for tonight I'll sign off with a little Buda wisdom if I may. Thank God daily for tinned corned beef and don't eat the food in Shearbank, particularly if it has ever worn a collar and licked its own backside. Buda Hilton
