It was,
like, an alien invasion, machine uprising, nuclear war kind of thing - whatever. How many days was a year again? Aw, I don't know either, anyway, the apocalypse was,
like, 500 years ago or something. Oh, it was probably a plague. Yeah, you're right, who cares?
Look there the hoard aday, they'z be lookin dry to the bone out on the sands. Bettin they'z a wantin for a rainy day so they'z a be marchin here all deep in the hunger, they'z be waitin like the sands theysel'z.
Hi there! Welcome to The Sands, my name's Billion, I'll be your tour guide today. Are you crazy? Or is it just me? Hee-hee. Ah - but seriously, why you lookin' at me like that, y'creep. I gotta stop killin' tourists but you are really creepin' me out - hey, come here a second.
The Sands rest on top of a collapsed futuristic society, the ruins of which peak out through the dunes. Wraith-like zombies are pests that form thousand strong hoards. They're mostly an eye-sore, however, odd rainy days moisten their sun scorched muscles enabling them to become a deadly nuisance. The residents of this world are mostly apathetic about the apocalypse. Imagine a cataclysmic event wiped out all of the world's most intelligent, creative inhabitants and left it alone with caretakers that are weird psychopaths.
The Sands are a melting pot for superstitions and storytelling. Folk tales spread like jostling grains of sand in the whistling, dry desert breathe. The impermanent paths between settlements may impair a traverser of The Sands but nothing can stop their stories from spreading. Spells and rituals from a forgotten digital age can be used to manipulate the world itself should someone wish to magically open a door or turn on a light.
“I’m never lost a time me and pa went look around there old world. Me and pa see a great spirit livin out on there - Great Spirit Gupsberry.”“Welcome to Gupsberry, how may I help you today-ay-to?”
The friendly words ascended into a fearsome trembling,
“H O W M A Y I H E L P Y O U T O D A Y ? !”
The terrible, unintelligible words played glockenspiel on the ribcages of all who heard them.
A Dinner Date With the Witch of the ShoreThe witch of the shore held a drawstring bag full of broken keyboard keys with faded yet legible letters. She shook the bag and poured its contents onto the table with one rehearsed, sensual motion. The keys lay scattered, “QLAISUWENCMSPERUTNSMZXCNDHSJAKLQPWTHFGDBC” as the witch of shore practiced the ancient art of reading.
“They say right here, ‘your death is nigh…’ it means you’re gonna die soon but you needn't fret, I can protect you from the winged one - for a price.”
“The most powerful spell in The Sands is ‘PASSWORD ONE’ - you gotta say it like that, ‘PASSWORD ONE’ - sometimes it really does work.”
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