My Gear, lend me a pencil?✔️

Gorasnians, Orange Crush and Doodles.

The Rusty Nail. One of the toughest taverns located in one of the darkest parts of the city. A dirty place filled with rough, disgusting vagabonds. Bright orange neon lights blink on and off, again and again, almost ensuring someone would have a seizure. All around the old, well-lit tavern sat grizzled battle worn soldiers, spurred stranded, aging coalition officials... They all hate each other in one way or another. And yet they all had one thing in common.

Lives. They all had lives once. Before Emergence Day.

It had started out simple enough. A normal day really. People got up, got dressed, got ready for work or school. People complained about traffic, helpless to do anything about it. They rolled about their day, boring and melancholy as ever. Someone complains about wanting something more, "Something exciting to happen" in there life. A friend orders lunch at a nearby coffee shop, busy flirting with an older gentleman. Everything was normal.

And then they came.

The Locusts.

Huge hulking beasts, killing and slaughtering everything in there path. Creatures so huge and enormous they towered over the buildings. They came out of the ground. Without warning.

Pure. Genocidal. Monsters.

It seemed that all innocence in the world died that day. Along with the hope. Every little child, every happy couple, every poor unsuspecting human...

A life... Waisted.

Joey sighed as he looked over the crowd of people. He had owned the Rusty nail almost all of his adult life, and this is the most business his tavern has ever had. It would be great if it wasn't because of a damn war. No one comes here to hang out anymore, or to meet a nice girl. Just to drown their sorrows. By killing their liver.

"They can drink all they want," Joey thought, looking back to his book, "it won't change a damn thing."

He was now probably the richest man all the way from here to Halvo Bay. And he was miserable.

"HEEEEYYY!" A rough voice rang out over the noise of the pub. The balding man looked up from his beloved book, slightly annoyed. His mood dampened even more when he saw who was approaching the bar.

"What you want now, Honda?" Joey groaned as the sleazy blonde slid his way back to him, obviously drunk off his rocker.

"Eeeyy mann! Do me a sholid and shlide me another one my wayyy!" Honda spoke in a slurred manner, his body swaying from side to side.

Joey rolled his eyes. He trusted his Gorasnian comrade, yes, but the man just wasn't the best person to rely on drunk like this. (And if he drank anymore, who knows what the man would do.)

'Besides,' Joey noted as he eyed the clock on the wall, 'it's almost time for her to stop by. I don't want him around here when she comes.' He watched as the drunk lashed out at a passing prostitute.

'...Ugh. 'Specially not like that.'

The bartender rolled his eyes as Honda began to go on and on about some guy that 'insulted his ma' or something like that. Typical drunk guy stuff.

"Comrade Joey, can you believe theshe hoes? So dishgusting. Aaaaaanyways, how'sh about another round?" The cherry blonde cheerful sang as he waves his empty bottle in the air.