The Warren – Rustbunnies
Arizona sun beating down on the rusted hulks of a near-abandoned auto-wrecker’s, all silent save for the creaks and pings of metal expanding and contracting in the changing heat. A silence shattered by the vicious barks of the chained Dog the Man keeps near his shack. Hot, dry, and dusty, no real place for life… a graveyard… but the crumpled metal bones and shells of the Man’s dead monsters offer shelter to the ragged survivors of a warren savaged by Dark Choking Clouds of Death.
It was only supposed to be a brief stop, a shelter from the sun as Hemlock, the great, but dying, leader, found us a new home… but Hemlock died… and a new generation has been born and know only this flaking, crumbling home… a home with no leader… with no one to guide us.
A star-spangled night, our ancestors a-watch over us. A sliver moon, yet to grow fat with light. Cool air. Four bucks, young, old, and in-between, out alone in the dry gullies, searching… searching for what was stolen from the warren… out of sight of home… a long way from safety…
Ran another session of The Warren this weekend… wow… the above was how it started. Big thanks to Marshall Miller for letting me have a chance to explore that world. Really looking forward to how it ends… and begins!
I had so much fun with this, and it’s been hopping around in my mind all night, that I think I’m going to make it into a playset.
Jump to it!
Hot!