simonmaxhill Posted Nov 10, 2008, 5:03 pm

"EARTHQWAKE!" screeched one of the Dongs. "VOLCANO!" shouted Else Mannaker of the Firelight Rats. "THE BADGER! THE BADGER" babbled Poor Steve. Whether it was earthquake, volcano, rain of sludge or the mythical Badger of Starvados, the patrons of the Firelight Tavern were quick to move. They dropped their drinks, discarded their darts, left their knives dangling and bloody in their knife-fight opponents.  Even the Klingon lurking by the WC abandoned her "free food, $4" sign and took cover. The room rattled.  It shook.  Bottles rolled.  Mutant prayers were murmured and human oaths sworn. And the shaking stopped, and the noisy rumble ended, and the only sound was a sharp hiss and the slamming of car doors from outside the tavern. "Mopey" Jeffery Hassler of the BFF's kicked the taverns door open, and spotting the assembly of terrorized terrors, lifted his sock puppet to speak. His voice was like a dead cat's fingernails being drawn across a chalkboard. "Get used to that, kids and druids!  The Badlands Firelight trade route is officially up and running! Lorries every week!  Fresh seafood from the coasts!  Water - real water! Not someone's blood, or motor oil, or radioactive goo mixed with bleach.  Actual water.  Weekly.  The route's open." Outside the tavern doors sit two BFF lorries.  The rear doors are open and all manner of wondrous trade good is being unloaded. The home-guard BFFs at the back table squeak the chant, "Open." "Open." "Open." [OOC note: during this trade run I actually ran into TRADERS on the Firelight roads.  It was Impala, Inc. a gang based out of Badlands.  Who woulda thought it possible? Not me.] [more OOC note: this post was to announce that I'd driven two lorries down to FL.] [even more OOC note: "Mopey" Jeffrey Hassler just bled to death in the wilderness.  What a chump!]