HQ ORB new home shivers - 1031
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Shivers: A brisk coastal wind still howls against the window of the shack. Occasionally the waves crawl in under the foundation, producing a low hum...
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Shivers: REVACHOL FOREVER
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Shivers: Overhead you hear the forlorn shriek of seagulls. Far below the birds -- a wooden boardwalk, filled with abandoned stands, tables and benches, echoes from a long lost time.
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Shivers: A middle-aged man stands in a run-down shack on the edge of a fishing village, listening to the heater hum on the wall.
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Shivers: You already were a part of their crew once. You can get drunk with them again. You're probably going to hang out there a lot, behind that cinder block house. It's where you belong.
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makinitcleanhub
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Shivers: Outside, the howl of the wind has picked up. The waves crash against the stilts again. It's as if you think the thought, but in someone else's voice...
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Variable["village.hq_found_ruby_bullet"]
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Shivers: A middle-aged man stands in a run-down shack on the edge of a fishing village. Nothing nods, no one salutes him. No sight of the fugitive.
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Shivers: Behind the half-built cinder block house at the other end of the village there are three people, drinking. Your *new crew*. You don't need the old crew, oh no, you have a new crew to get drunk with.
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You: Thank you, strange sensation, for a fair assessment of the current situation.
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Shivers: This could have been you. This could still be you. A down-on-his-luck nobody, trying to survive.
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You: Shake it off. [Discard thought.]
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You: Listen.
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Variable["village.hq_found_ruby_bullet"]
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!(Variable["village.hq_found_ruby_bullet"])
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Shivers: LOOK UNDER THE FLOORBOARDS
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You: My forward base for the coastal part of the operation.
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Kim Kitsuragi: "Mhm..." The lieutenant looks around.
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You: No, wait, I changed my mind, I want to choose again.
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You: "This feels like a cozy hideout."
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You: "This feels like a cozy hideout."
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Shivers: Waves crash unto the beach, drowning the reeds. Far to the south a congregation gathers to a soup kitchen in a shelter for the homeless. An old woman gives out knitted scarves for free.
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Shivers: Far to the southeast, two men and a woman dress themselves in ceramic armour. A shortwave radio hisses on the windowsill. One makes a salute. The other downs a drink. Weapons under the bed...
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Shivers: Who are you talking to? There is no one here. Not even cold.
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Shivers: Waves crash unto the beach, drowning the reeds. Far to the south a congregation gathers to a soup kitchen in a shelter for the homeless. An old woman gives out knitted scarves for free.
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You: A possible resting spot for my fugitive is what it is.
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Shivers: There is no going back.
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Shivers: Far away, on the corner of Perdition and Main, a nondescript building, obscured in a haze. It's vacant and lost, just like its tenant.
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Shivers: The room feels muffled, like you pulled your hat over your ears. Outside, it is cold and windy, but you're inside, and it feels safe and warm.
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Shivers: WHAT IS THIS PLACE TO YOU?
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You: It's free. That's good enough. I could live here.
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You: Looks like this is my new home -- wonder where the old one went?
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Shivers: Westward, across the canal, towers the Whirling-in-Rags. Door #1 on the second floor is locked, behind it lies a trashed room. One floor below, behind a counter, stands an irritable man.
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Shivers: In a small shack in the fishing village, a baroque heater hums quietly, emanating a sense of comforting warmth. A washbasin lies on the table, the water inside reflecting the sombre face of the world.
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WHATPLACE
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You: My new hangout, where I could silently sit, drink and die while looking at the waves roll in.
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