The city. This grand fucking city, where the shit of a hundred thousand horses is fought over by a hundred thousand street children, except in the nice neighborhoods, where it is genteelly fought over by the genteel underlings of genteel fucking gardeners, while rivers of the stuff flow in clay tunnels below their feet. This city, home of conquerors and collectors- including the half-forgotten family who collected our ancestors, so long ago. Today, my friends, we avenge those ancestors.
Today, we rise.
Sewer alligators. If ever there was an urban legend that seemed ripe for a plot, it’s sewer alligators. Maybe they want revenge. Maybe they don’t exist at all, and the mission to Collect Ten Gators is a plot to send those pesky adventurers away while the local power gets on with their life. Maybe don’t exist, except very briefly, but while they do, they want Chinese takeout.
I find the tinges of tourism guilt around the edges of this particular monster fascinating- after all, so many larps center around travellers. What lives have they thoughtlessly disrupted? What false guilt do they carry, distracting them from the real consequences of their actions?
Love and The King’s Musketeers ~ Designer Shredded Alligator Suit Jacket. Yeah. ~ Tick Safety ~ Can’t Speak German But I’ll Watch This Bad-Ass Documentary Anyway ~ Oh, Drosselmeyer ~ This AWESOMESAUCE Kickstarter About Girl Adventurers