Still numb after what happened at Villeinville. To Villeinville. No clue how I'm going to tell my parents that all their friends are gone. Fuck, man, my mom was BORN there. How do you tell somebody that their hometown has been wiped off the map? S'not easy, I'm sure.
Can't think about that now, though. Cannonbottom, Peter, Cybil, Denby… Gus, I guess… they're in the past. Gotta look to the future, and the future consists of getting across the border. Now.
We kept the Dauphine at full throttle after the attack. Kept it there, and maintained that speed until sundown, when everybody was too exhausted to keep working. It's difficult to remain fearful for over ten hours. Your body starts to fall apart. Especially when there doesn't appear to be anything to fear anymore. Everyone slept, save a few brave souls who volunteered to keep watch…
… and the next morning, it was Plato who clued us all in to what should have been obvious: we'd arrived at the border between the Indy Plains and the Imperium. We were all just too exhausted the previous night to realize it.
Similar to the Grand Chasm back home… home number two, I guess… the border between the two big sections of the world is a massive set of chasms. There are, however, a few differences:
- There are ways across these chasms. Lots of 'em.
- … but these paths have all been blocked off by Imperium checkpoints. You don't cross without going through customs first, and from what I've heard, customs have become a loooooot stricter in the last few months.
- The chasms aren't bottomless. I'd call them canyons, myself, as you can see what's lingering down there. Usually that's just a river or two, as well as some really, REALLY deep cliffs. If you manage to cross through these canyons, well, you deserve to get into the Imperium unharassed. Not an option for the Dauphine.
- Last, perhaps worst, these places have regular patrols beyond customs. Again, this is a new development, and the patrols consist of some heavy-duty troops. Their contingents would give Jeffrey's old army a good run.
The Dauphine was nowhere near a checkpoint when Plato realized where we were, so we continued on for half a day until we spotted one. Spent the whole trip wondering how we might get across, 'cause, let's face it, customs isn't likely to allow a massive community bristling with guns to enter its borders. Probably figure we're off to sack Rodentia or something.
Our plan? Plow through and hope for the best. There's a reason we put guns on this sucker, y'know. This is part of that reason. None of us are huge fans of the Imperium, so nobody cares if we mash our way in. But we'll only do that if there are no troops waiting. If there are… well… guess we'll come to that when we come to that.
Man. I don't have to be all diplomatic and shit again, do I? I'm not in the mood for diplomacy. I have a fierce effing headache, and Fynn's been keeping us up late while he's teething. Quite a set of lungs on the bugger, bless him. If I have to talk to people… well, maybe I can just foist my son at 'em and let his goofy smile get us across the border.
Yeah. Sure. That'll work.
Sincerely,
Dragomir the Wanderer
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