I know it’s a bad idea to hop around on stories like this, but this one I know the plot, right out of the box! Also, it’s not real involved or anything. Which is good, because I want to write the whole thing this weekend.
The lich ran away. That little undead sonuvabitch actually ran away. It was even lifting up the hem of its robe as it fled up the stairs, looking for all the world like some kind of demented hell-nun — and not the fun kind, either. Toledo Pete was so surprised he almost didn’t eye-stake the zombie he was currently fighting, and he barely paid attention to the next three zombies he took down while considering his options.
A cowardly lich? This was not a scenario Toledo Pete had really considered when putting together his field kit that morning. Your average would-be king of the undead, well, they weren’t runners. They liked to get stuck in with the fleshies, getting all blackened knives and fucked up chanting and blue- flamed eye sockets in your face before they tried to melt your face. Toledo Pete had esoteric crap, all ready and at hand, for the face-melting. What he didn’t have was a god-damned mystic woogie that could stop the fucker from bailing the scene.
Toledo Pete sighed, and yanked his coach gun out from its over-the-shoulder holster. Only cowboys snap-shot, so he took a moment to aim (and another moment to brain a zombie with the butt of his gun). Christ, he thought, it’s about to get expensive out.
I like it.
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There’s almost no world building needed, we got undead, we got magic, we got an adventurer, and either Spain or Ohio exist r existed in some form.
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Run with it, see where it goes.
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Mew
Of course you have to have Fleuter design Pete’s patch.
Who do you think I got the idea from in the first place? (I cleared it with him ahead of time, it’s cool.) 🙂