Seven x Seven x Seven

Things Can Only Get Better

You… show me prejudice and greed
You show me how
I must learn to deal with this disease
I look at things now
In a different light than I did before
I found the cause

So I think I’m almost getting the hang of things, well, except for the hunger. Gawddamn but I’m hungry all of the time now.
I seem to run a whole lot of more pick-ups an drops now than I ever did before. I can’t tell if that is because my uncle trusts me more or if he trusts that I’m less likely to be fucked with than before.
Whatever the reason, there is no problem for me collecting what’s due; but as easy as it could be for me to rake in some serious graff, I’d give all to a fucking nunnery if it would stop the hunger.
In the meantime, here I am again, in the laundry room of another apartment building, checking the dryers for the drop… and maybe a few pairs of panties… just for shits and giggles, of course… and because I can.
This time I manage to score a nice a pair; clean even.
Making my way back to the lobby I see Marty, who may have always been here (even before there was ever a building here) and he is blankly staring out at the main door. I follow his gaze and all I can see is a dark parking lot; big deal.
But it is more than that.
The lot is not just dark, it’s darkness. I mean there really is nothing out there.
I see a small crowd has gathered and is beginning to panic as each person tries to get the door open.
Not one of these clowns can open a fucking glass door?
Ah fer fucks sake.
Given my new outlook on life (or should that be unlife?), I figure it’ll be dead easy (heh-heh) to impress these lame-wads and open the door.
Only I can’t.
Now that is fucked up.
I can’t do it. I should be able to bend the metal frame like it is made out of playdough, but this mother fucker’s not even close to buckling.
I feel even hungrier as I stop trying to rip this door open.
Then I get a little uneasy.
Not because the door refuses to budge. I mean that alone is worth me losing my shit over, but I realize I’m being stared at.
A college type.
He’s giving me the hairy eyeball, like he just caught a fox in the hen-house.
I’d give a better look-see but there is that smell, that nice clean smell.
I look around and then I see her, joining the growing number here in the lobby, the owner of the panties.
She is shower fresh and wearing wonderfully clean clothes; that’s how I know the panties are hers – that scent is going to haunt me. Of course, it’ll be my fault that it does because I keep breathing deeply from the panties. I’m holding on to them like a hanky and covering up my compulsion with a little nose wiping for good measure.
It may not take away the hunger, but is helping maintain my calm.
Looks like she’s got Marty willing to help her look up on the floors, the college type seems to be tagging along too.
Well fuck it, I’m not staying down here with the little sheep, I’m going to keep an eye on this crew.
So now here I am checking rooms with Marty and Co., and I’m in one of the renos.
This bunch sure seem a little on edge with the whole thing.
You’ll never guess who I find – Joan fuck-me-now Severance, or her gawddamn twin!
Oh sweet Jesus those tits!
But instead of sporting wood, all I want to do is eat; I’m not talking downtown either. I actually want to eat her up like the best porterhouse after a forced medical test fast.
Then all of sudden, it’s like I should be chowing down, but I’m not gaining any strength… and I don’t to be any less hungry. But I can’t stop.
I am determined to make a meal out this woman.

And I think that you could be my cure
And you say

Walk your path
Wear your shoes
Talk like that
I’ll be an angel too

Things can only get, can only get
Things can only get, can only get
Things can only get, can only get
Things can only get, can only get


What is Love? Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more.

Another goddamned Friday night in the city of Sydney and here I am trying to score some scratch at the Tim’s on Townsend and Charlotte. Gotta time my drop ins between fresh pots or keep running into the constabulary. It’s a busy night and I have not been lucky in collecting as much as I should be. On any other Friday I’d just hit Herman’s and do a little business, but I know for fact that I got some muscle looking to collect on my less than existing collection tonight. My only hope is to drum up some sales at Tim’s.
Gotta a problem though; not only are my regulars not around tonight, Chastity is not behind the counter. She must be out with her new guy, what’s his name, Dobbs? Unlucky for me the new girl taking her shift has been way to quick with the fresh pots and there has been a steady stream of blue and white Crown Vics. I could be wrong, but I might stand out in my fine rayon suit.
What’s a guy to do?
No other options; gotta lay low at the Wheelhouse above the City Lodge. Pretty sure any muscle would not be looking for me there.
I gotta say, things are looking up as I can already hear the Haddaway pumping before I even open the door.
The drinks go down as easy as the beats as I get into my groove. I love the bass cracking in my chest, it’s almost the only thing I feel until I realize there is a very large hand squeezing my shoulder.
I almost don’t hear it over the beat.
Scotch and Players light laced hot breath moves over my face.
“Your uncle wants a sit down!”
So much for evading the muscle.
Before I can blink I’m down the stairs and shoved into the back of an all too familiar Suburban. It’s not a surprise as the ride turns out to be a very short one up to Kingswood.
Anyone else might be pissing themselves right now, but my uncle really is family, so how bad can it be? I’m not likely to be offed, right? Just a talking to.
Uh-oh, Uncle looks more pissed than usual.
Heart is pounding, I can barely hear what he telling me.
I’m being given a choice here.
Door number one seems to have a lot to do with legs and other appendages being downgraded in operating condition.
I think door number two lets me keep earning and living the night life.
This is one of them “No Shit Sherlock” moments.
One is the loneliest number so two it is.
Uncle seems surprised.
That’s right, old man, I can play. Work for another outfit? Pffft, fuckin’ eh! Might even land a pad in Cabot House!
Gotta stay cool; keep the old man impressed by my, whatcha call, thee-mean-or?
What ever. Keep my eyes straight and meet my new boss.
The boys sure cleared out of the office in a hurry.
Fuck them if they don’t have the balls to swim in the deep end.
Someone is behind me now; it’s a chick, right on.
I can handle a chick. I’m going to be running things soon if my new boss is a bitch piece.
This is turning out to be a right on night after all.
She is staying behind me.
Kinda kinky, but I can dig.
Her hands are on me now; kinda cold. She must be strung out on some freaky product.
The fuck?!
Okay, that fuckin’ hurts! A lot!
That is going to leave a mark; freaky kinky bitch!
Fr-e-eh K-in- kin fuh fuh fuh.
Red light, everywhere.
Something on my lips.
Tastes odd; metallic. No. Not right. Tastes good; real good.
Feels good, no, goddamn great!
What ever the fuck this product is I know I can sell it for top dollar; but not until I get a stash of this shit for myself.
Don’t hurt me no more, awesome.

Prelude... gone all Witchblade!!!

Most fucked up day… ever.

So my day started out like most days… shitty. I ran late all day, my caffeine levels were running low. I arrived at Vic just in time to have my CO drill me like a lousy recruit still wet behind the ears. After I was dragging my damned ass I started the damned course… have you ever felt like all you do is run? Well today that is ALL I did. So two minutes into my hideous run the freaking heavens opened up and proceeded to soak my sad self. What did I do… kept running. There are times when I regret being so stubborn. I know my CO just wants to see me crack. I don’t know what his problem is.. the man has a serious steel poker up his regimented ass. I can’t tell if it is me personally he hates or just the fact that I am the only female officer in this backwards island. Ahhh, to be home— good ol’ Cape Breton Island. Everywhere else people see this shit hole as quaint but I suppose they are non female military officers in a craptacular militia who don’t have a completely messed up family who all have— how shall I say— supernatural skills. Damn, did I mention the fact that I have a fun filled day planned in the near future with my darling family. Another celebration ushering in one of my dear cousins into the fold. Another opportunity for the family to look down at me pitying and my lack of “awareness”— it’s like being the thirty-something who still sits at the kiddie table. I wonder if things would have been different if my mother had lived or even if my twin sister hadn’t been killed following her own awakening. My brother, Michael, had the right of things… avoid the Guillemette family at all cost— I have no idea why I can’t do that myself. Sometimes I think everyone speaks a secret code and my damned decoder ring is on the fritz.

The mundaneness of the PT run was driving my mind into overdrive. My legs are beginning to feel like lead but I refuse to stop— I WILL NOT GIVE THAT ASS-HAT THE PLEASURE. I keep plodding on in the torrential rain— my vision begins to have shadows on the edge… I blink, wipe the rain from my eyes and keep going. Another lap. MY C.O. is standing under the eaves of a shed gloating at me. That’s when I start to hear whispering. I glance around as my legs keep moving— one leg then the next. I shake my head ignoring the sibilant whispering and keep plodding. I blink again, wipe the cool rain out of my eyes and when I look out again the PT course is gone. The rain is gone. Metal armor replaces my soaked fatigues. The landscape is something out of my worst nightmare. There are hoards of shadow creatures— abysmal shadows. I begin to panic, my hand reaches down for my sidearm— not that I was wearing it— but instead my hand touches the hilt of— a sword? WTF? I wrap my hand around the hilt and pull it out. The horrors seem to surround me— I rush towards the nearest group of creatures and begin swinging the unfamiliar sword. I swang the weapon like I trained with it daily— it was more comfortable than even my familiar old friend, my handgun. I look around and all the creatures are around me are dead. I glimpse into the distance and see some kind of tower. It reminds me of something. It beckons me and makes me NEED to get to it. I continue on the road towards the tower when I hear something from above me. “WTF? That’s new.” The creatures swoop down to attack me from above and I begin to swing the sword as if it were an extension to my arm. Before long the flying mass is gone but in their place stood a tentacled horror that was at least 8 freaking feet tall. I look past the creature out of the darkest Lovecraftian tale and see the tower. I feel a compulsion running through me, knowing I have to get there. This entire scenario feels almost familiar. I attack the tentacled beast with everything I was. I was feeling very witchbladey. What’s not to like about a chick kicking the ass of some extra-dimensional big bad. I don’t stop until I am looking down at the severed head of Big Bad. The compulsion tugs at me and I jog towards the tower where I swing the door open and enter. I look around— it feels so right. I understand THIS. I was meant for this— I sign the key. I have awakened.
Welcome to your Adventure Log!
A blog for your campaign

Every campaign gets an Adventure Log, a blog for your adventures!

While the wiki is great for organizing your campaign world, it’s not the best way to chronicle your adventures. For that purpose, you need a blog!

The Adventure Log will allow you to chronologically order the happenings of your campaign. It serves as the record of what has passed. After each gaming session, come to the Adventure Log and write up what happened. In time, it will grow into a great story!

Best of all, each Adventure Log post is also a wiki page! You can link back and forth with your wiki, characters, and so forth as you wish.

One final tip: Before you jump in and try to write up the entire history for your campaign, take a deep breath. Rather than spending days writing and getting exhausted, I would suggest writing a quick “Story So Far” with only a summary. Then, get back to gaming! Grow your Adventure Log over time, rather than all at once.


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