What we left behind was wheezing when we last saw it. God knows how long we'd been running but we didn't seem to be any closer to the outposts than we'd been when we set off late last night which meant that we were either further away than we'd calculated or we were in the grasp of a Warper.
Old Grace is always saying that the crew of the Bilge-Brown Rats had chased the last of the Warpers back into the sea and rigged the beaches with enough Deterrents to keep them in the depths for generations and yet here we are eyeballing the same algae-smothered pool in the same back garden of the same bloody ruins that we've somehow been circling because Captain Helpful can't read a fucking map!
I'd say Old Grace is full of shit but in all honesty her mind's been pudding since before society crumbled. She's at that weird point in her old age where she's just coherent enough that we can keep her around but not quite with it enough that you can be sure that what she's saying is totally true.
Bless her dear little heart, she has no clue what a Warper actually looks like so for all we know we've stumbled head first into their nest. Which, as you can imagine, is just perfect. Absolutely wonderful and splendid and everything else that means we're completely screwed if we are indeed facing a Warper.
If it's just a regular Bio-Mutant then we'll be fine, or rather less likely to die. Radiation poisoning's only a worry when you're up close and personal which we've managed to mostly avoid so far, Greg aside (because of course he had to try and headbutt the bloody thing like the Glaswegian stereotype that he is).
We're camping out in the remains of a shed for the time being, just long enough that the wheezing abomination loses focus on us and we can regain our sense of direction for long enough to get well out of its range. The next outpost is apparently only five miles from here, wherever here is. Captain Helpful won't let anyone else see the map so we can only assume he's got us on the right track.
That or we're screwed and he's expecting us all to die soon.
From the stuttery breaths outside, I'd say the decisive moment is to bloody close for comfort.
Old Grace is always saying that the crew of the Bilge-Brown Rats had chased the last of the Warpers back into the sea and rigged the beaches with enough Deterrents to keep them in the depths for generations and yet here we are eyeballing the same algae-smothered pool in the same back garden of the same bloody ruins that we've somehow been circling because Captain Helpful can't read a fucking map!
I'd say Old Grace is full of shit but in all honesty her mind's been pudding since before society crumbled. She's at that weird point in her old age where she's just coherent enough that we can keep her around but not quite with it enough that you can be sure that what she's saying is totally true.
Bless her dear little heart, she has no clue what a Warper actually looks like so for all we know we've stumbled head first into their nest. Which, as you can imagine, is just perfect. Absolutely wonderful and splendid and everything else that means we're completely screwed if we are indeed facing a Warper.
If it's just a regular Bio-Mutant then we'll be fine, or rather less likely to die. Radiation poisoning's only a worry when you're up close and personal which we've managed to mostly avoid so far, Greg aside (because of course he had to try and headbutt the bloody thing like the Glaswegian stereotype that he is).
We're camping out in the remains of a shed for the time being, just long enough that the wheezing abomination loses focus on us and we can regain our sense of direction for long enough to get well out of its range. The next outpost is apparently only five miles from here, wherever here is. Captain Helpful won't let anyone else see the map so we can only assume he's got us on the right track.
That or we're screwed and he's expecting us all to die soon.
From the stuttery breaths outside, I'd say the decisive moment is to bloody close for comfort.
