User:Jäger Schenkkan/Jäger Schenkkan: Difference between revisions
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''Cluckcluckba-CLUCK!'' | ''Cluckcluckba-CLUCK!'' | ||
The sun peered over the horizon through the thick cloud cover and cast its rays on Jäger's face, and a chill wind blew across the | The sun peered over the horizon through the thick cloud cover and cast its rays on Jäger's face, and a chill wind blew across the rooftops of Downe Towers. Aside from the hunger-driven protests from the coop, the city was silent. No moans, no groans, no murder screams. No guttural churning of generators, no reports from the business ends of firearms. Silence. As it had been for many many years. | ||
The former soldier - if you could call him that - dragged his dirty hands across gunk-caked eyelids and wiped the sleep from his eyes. He sat up beneath a thick cover of salvaged duvets and shook them aside, the muscles in his back straining with every move. The chickens continued their incessant wake-up call, which Jäger no longer feared. In another time, their wild clucking would have been a death stroke, a beacon for the millions of shambling corpses that once roamed the streets of Dulston. But it had been a long, long time since Jäger had seen another body, living or dead. The chicken calls echoed through the husk of the once-bustling suburb of Malton, the only ears to perceive them those of their long-time caretaker. | |||
Jäger leaned over and ruffled through a plastic bag filled with jerky sticks and peeled one open, clenching it between his teeth as he stood and stretched. | |||
Latest revision as of 01:40, 11 November 2018
Cluckcluckba-CLUCK!
The sun peered over the horizon through the thick cloud cover and cast its rays on Jäger's face, and a chill wind blew across the rooftops of Downe Towers. Aside from the hunger-driven protests from the coop, the city was silent. No moans, no groans, no murder screams. No guttural churning of generators, no reports from the business ends of firearms. Silence. As it had been for many many years.
The former soldier - if you could call him that - dragged his dirty hands across gunk-caked eyelids and wiped the sleep from his eyes. He sat up beneath a thick cover of salvaged duvets and shook them aside, the muscles in his back straining with every move. The chickens continued their incessant wake-up call, which Jäger no longer feared. In another time, their wild clucking would have been a death stroke, a beacon for the millions of shambling corpses that once roamed the streets of Dulston. But it had been a long, long time since Jäger had seen another body, living or dead. The chicken calls echoed through the husk of the once-bustling suburb of Malton, the only ears to perceive them those of their long-time caretaker.
Jäger leaned over and ruffled through a plastic bag filled with jerky sticks and peeled one open, clenching it between his teeth as he stood and stretched.
