Unattributed Conversation Extract from TD+22, 1 | loci.theduereturn.com
  








  









  
    

Unattributed Conversation Extract from TD+22, 1

Error message

  • Notice: Undefined index: field_related_artifacts in cck_blocks_block_view() (line 97 of /home/93967.cloudwaysapps.com/jauqmmtgea/public_html/modules/cck_blocks/cck_blocks.module).
  • Notice: Undefined index: field_artifacts_metadata in cck_blocks_block_view() (line 97 of /home/93967.cloudwaysapps.com/jauqmmtgea/public_html/modules/cck_blocks/cck_blocks.module).
  • Notice: Undefined index: field_artifact_related in cck_blocks_block_view() (line 97 of /home/93967.cloudwaysapps.com/jauqmmtgea/public_html/modules/cck_blocks/cck_blocks.module).

Crimean Peninsula
June 10, 1855
Right around 8 AM

a. So you got any ideas why the Captain ain’t saying anything? Think he’s got any more of an idea than us?
b. He sent out that party, didn’t he? Got to count for something.
a. Sure sure. But he puts a fucken 15 year old kid in charge of it? What the hell man. That don’t make sense. I mean, he’s a good kid, sure, but he’s a fucken kid. You get me, right? Something’s real off, innit?
b. Something’s off, but that ain’t it. I’ll tell you what: kid’s got more of a clue about this shit than most of us. And if the Captain wants to stick him in charge of a scout party, don’t see what the problem is. Shit, ain’t nothing wrong with that. But what’s off is this place. Not just being stuck on dry land, but the smell of it. You smell that in the air? Gunpowder, steel, blood and rot. And not the good kind of rot neither.
a. Fuck man, you let the Captain get away with too much fucken shit. My little bro? He act up like that? Get an old school arse-kicking he would.
b. How me and him get on’s no business of yours and you’d be advised to reconsider that last remark.
a. Sorry man, sorry. Just kinda speculating, No need to get all snarls, right?
b. Sorry. Place got me feeling a bit touchy. You smell that, don’t you? What I was talking about?
a. Shit yeah I do. Damn. That is not good. Feeling like we might be sorta fucked here. Smell like that means there is something seriously fucked out there. Hope the kid can handle it and don’t get all killed or something.
b. No disagreement there. Your brother’s out there with him, right?
a. Don’t even fucken remind me.
b. . . .
a. Fuck. Thinking we might be totally fucked here. War and kids and blood and all aside, we’re on a fucken hill, innit? You see anything floatable out there? Cause I sure as fuck don’t. How we gonna get ourselves out of this one?
b. Got me on that.
a. . . .
b. Too bad ‘bout old Anteas, isn’t it?
a. I’ll say. Shouldn’t have been hanging with that stuck up fuck St. James. Ends up getting fucked worse’n the rest of us. That fucker did a serious damage on us. Serious damage.
b. I’ll tell you what, you ever catch me getting on like old Anteas, walking ‘round and mumbling? You go right to the Captain and have him put a bullet in my head. Ain’t no way to live.
a. Know who’s getting a fucken bullet? St. James if I ever catch him.
b. There’s two things that ain’t never happening: me getting back into bed with crazy old Sincerity and any of us seeing St. James ever again.
a. Heehee. Not what I heard man. Not what I heard.
b. . . .
a. . . .
b. You shut your mouth.
a. . . .
b. . .
a. Heehee.