ON THE ROAD AGAIN (War Tourist by Dan Wool)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k0o0Nffz8GkYour Crawler emerges from the darkness under Psydonia to its surface with the blood-red skies alight and shining.
On the horizon, you hear the sharp reports of 7.77 and the sustained booms of mortar fire. Sure signs of a good neighborhood.
The Impure soul next to you barely reacts to the change in scenery and keeps quietly breathing. The Captain tilts his head upwards and takes in a deep breath. He hasn't let out a single hacking cough since the kerfuffle in the tunnel. The engie has nothing to report. Your mask doesn't even itch as much today. For a moment, everything in the BUGCHUD just seems dandy the way it is.
A quiet peace reigns.
Why, the only thing that you have to complain about is-
*stomach growling*
Hunger:
LIMEY -> Peckish
IRON LUNG -> Starving
NUMBERS -> Starving
MUNCH -> Starving
FAMINE!
"We need something to eat, Captain," Numbers mutters, more to himself than to the man behind him.
[ACERBITY] The Captain turns his helmet downwards and immediately starts hacking, tar-like spittle leaking from the holes in his face and coalescing to the tip of his "beak." "Now don't we all?" He coughs and splatters the back of the engie's coat with that hateful bile.
"We've had nothing but MONSTER MEAT and MAGGOTY BREAD for THREE STINKING DAYS," Munch gnashes, reviving from his apparent stupor. "We, we could, we could, you KNOW, DEVOUR his other leg. He could always grow it back later..."
Numbers turns back to face the wizard. "Another word about my leg and I swerve this bike into the next horde of deadites. How about you chew on that, motherfucker?"
As the Captain's personal doctor, you have some authority over these motley bunch. You think you do, at least. "Oi. Belay that cannibal prattle. We still need Numbers in one piece."
"We haven't seen a mutant for days much less a zad," MUNCH whines as he wrings his hands together. Is that saliva or tears staining his collar? "I'd give up all my mojo for even a single BITE of half-eaten mook!"
"Hold fast, you godless motherfuckers. We're not in dire straits just yet." The Captain pats down his pockets for a moment. "Who's got the map? The good one, not the one with the hexes."
"We don't got that map anymore," Dusty says dejectedly. "That 'dog' ate it, remember?"
The disappointment silences everyone.
