Barclay had been wandering again. He was restless in this city. It was a bit cold to be hanging around outside so he began hunting through various buildings and abandoned shops. And there... he had found it. The treasure trove ( Read more... )

Barclay was outside in the snow, wandering seemingly aimlessly. he carried a flask with him that he drank from periodically. It was full of whiskey to he wasn't exactly cold. Or he was but he couldn't feel it ( Read more... )

Who' tha bleedin hell are these monsters!? Are we in some kinna fuckin' horror flick new?

BONNIE, WHERE ARE YE? Immur commin' tae git ye, these fucks cannae hold me back fer long. Are ye safe?

[There is growling as he can be seen and herd decapitating one of the zombies with a claymore]

Immur heddin' oot, be careful.

Well this was bizarre. The train, the city, the whole shebang ( Read more... )

 [ Hello, Ruby City. Remember that slightly intoxicated Scotsman that reported in a few days ago? Well, he's showing up on your feed again, pleased as ever-- and this time it wasn't about alcohol-- though he may be feeling a slight buzz from something he drank earlier.
ANYHOW, that is not the point! The point is, our ginger headed mad rocket has ( Read more... )

 [ Oh, it had been awhile since he had been seen around here. Scotland had been busy with so many things-- a lot of exploring on his own-- including a visit to the catacombs, which took awhile too. Needless to say, he seems alright, a few injuries on his forearms and his face. However, he's back in his room at the bath house-- he wasn't even sure ( Read more... )

--UCKIN' PIECE OF BOGGIN' SHITE.
DINNAE GIVE ME A FUCKIN' CLUE OF WHERE THE FUCKITY FUCK I AM.

[After fiddling around by pressing buttons and yelling like a neanderthal, the camera turns on and shows a particularly angered Scotsman in mid sentence of his second language: cursing. Wavy, bright red locks frame his rugged face, flecked with facial hair ( Read more... )