one ⚙ enter stage right ⚙ [open] ⚙ [in person]
And what rough beast slouches towards Castlewood, so as not to be eaten alive by zombies? Dr. Alex Morgenstern, looking far less prim and proper than usual. There is a slight stagger to the good doctor's trudging, as there should be. After all, walking for eleven hours when you're far more used to sitting at a desk or swinging from a work harness isn't exactly easy.
So, with normally tidy blonde hair all astraggle, and normally clean and pristine full-length labcoat looking decidedly less than white, Dr. Morgenstern has come to the conclusion that considering the appearance of the local population (hostile and/or diseased) and the area (ramshackle and deserted of normal people), it would be best to just keep moving. And keep moving. And keep moving.
Where to? Not a clue. Whoopdy-doo. Because wherever the hell this is, it's a long way from Paragon. But it's not such a long way from that little dense looking building in the distance, so maybe that's worth a look.
Here comes the doctor now, in fact. You do know it's Dr. Morgenstern, right? You do know that there's still a good, smart thinker working away up top there, right? That the shambling, dragging walk is exhaustion, a lack of energy, and not the T-virus liquifying the old grey matter?
Well, that's great. Because Alex would be mighty pissed if, on top of being strangely stranded somewhere very far from home and normality and all alone without sweet Juliet or Ophelia or even Pepper, you decided that the doctor looked a little too much like a zombie to live. Dr. Morgenstern might be some kind of genius, but sadly, not the kind that specializes in picking bullets and bone fragments out of what's left of their own head.
So, with normally tidy blonde hair all astraggle, and normally clean and pristine full-length labcoat looking decidedly less than white, Dr. Morgenstern has come to the conclusion that considering the appearance of the local population (hostile and/or diseased) and the area (ramshackle and deserted of normal people), it would be best to just keep moving. And keep moving. And keep moving.
Where to? Not a clue. Whoopdy-doo. Because wherever the hell this is, it's a long way from Paragon. But it's not such a long way from that little dense looking building in the distance, so maybe that's worth a look.
Here comes the doctor now, in fact. You do know it's Dr. Morgenstern, right? You do know that there's still a good, smart thinker working away up top there, right? That the shambling, dragging walk is exhaustion, a lack of energy, and not the T-virus liquifying the old grey matter?
Well, that's great. Because Alex would be mighty pissed if, on top of being strangely stranded somewhere very far from home and normality and all alone without sweet Juliet or Ophelia or even Pepper, you decided that the doctor looked a little too much like a zombie to live. Dr. Morgenstern might be some kind of genius, but sadly, not the kind that specializes in picking bullets and bone fragments out of what's left of their own head.