Fagin

Zombie or Post Apocalyptic themed fiction/stories.

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Ad'lan
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Fagin

Post by Ad'lan » Mon Aug 20, 2007 1:55 pm

Dawn

The Second of May, 2013

The Remains of a Small Village, a few miles inland from the North Norfolk Coast.

I woke up, and stretched, the worn out old mattress sprinking as I shifted my weight. I clambered out from under the duvet and skins that served as my bed sheets.

I was always the first one up, but that was usual, and after I had dressed in my battered and patched old moleskins, and shrugged on a faded, but clean shirt, I went downstairs, to put breakfast on. A dozen hungry lads eat a lot, but for the moment we had grain a plenty, and a bowl of porridge set you up for the day a treat.

At the ringing of the bell they poured downstairs, some half dressed, laughing, joking, pushing and shoving to their places, as I doled out the hot mix, and the jug of milk on the table, and the jar of honey was passed from hand to hand barely set down for a moment, till everyone had what they wanted.

We weren't total savages, and a dam site better off than some other we knew.

Me and my boys, well, I mean, I said my boys, they all called me uncle, but in honesty, I wasn’t 10 years older than any of them, one of the few ‘Adults’ to make it through. But me and my boys, Terry, Mouser, Tango, Broadside and his little brother Simon. Baz, Hack and Adrian, 3 cousins. Sam and Eric, Twins. Bodin and Khan.

Normal Names didn’t last very long. Strangers tend to call me Mr Barcham, or Sir when they see the Long Gun.





Part one of a Short Story, set in a PAW in a universe not to dissimilar to this one.
More being written as you read this.

Edit: I live off of comments, good and bad, so please, Unleash them.
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Cymro wrote:Seriously, I'm not sure I'd fuck with Ad'lan if he had his bow with him. I just don't see that ending well.
Please Check out my PAW Story, Fagin

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Post by CommonHighrise » Mon Aug 20, 2007 2:32 pm

Looking pretty good so far. The turns of phrase make it pretty interesting, probably just because of dialect differences. Ill be keeping an eye out for the next installment.
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Post by Ad'lan » Mon Aug 20, 2007 2:44 pm

Part the 2nd

We had Finished the Spring Planting. Or at least, I thought we had, I was never a good Arable man. though I was confident the Vegetable Garden and Live Stock would see us through the next winter though, even if the Barley failed, the wheat never germinated, and the oats rotted.

One of the new Farm Buildings was full of chopped and drying wood, It was ramshackle, little more than a shed, but it was one of the first things we had built as a group. The well pump still worked, although the cost in fuel to keep the generator going was hurting, That was the reason we needed so much wood. And it was no where near as efficient. Me and Grandfather had planned to make a charcoal kiln, but we never got round to it.

There were many things that He and I never got a round to.

The Boys got on with their chores, checking the lambs and seeing the calves were still fine (Thanks be that Grandfather had been a rare breeds man. easy births and hardy animals over high yields any day).

Who is this grandfather you ask? Well, there's a reason I haven’t introduced him. He’s my Grandfather, it’s not one of the ridiculous names my lads call themselves. He used to be a teacher, then he became a small holder. 8 Acres of prime Norfolk Soil, in sight of the sea.

Of course, we work more than that now, but I doubt the owners mind.

I grew up on that farm, and when I finished my degree, I returned.

I was at a loose end. the career that seemed so bright and inviting when I looked, became dull and deadened the closer I got to it. I went back to the Farm, and I was going to see the Farm done up again. Things done properly.

It was about then that the world began to end.



Yeah, only one one website have I ever truly let the Dialect unleash, even when I talk in conversation I usually keep the norfolk accent pretty tight. But I'm glad you like it. For some reason, people still pick up on it, even when I try and hide it. It's not like I go around asking 'Ha yur F'ather got a dicky bor?

There will be action, but it's not going to be an action story, it's going to be my idea of What one PAW might be like.
My Guide to making your own Bowstring
My Guide to making your own Flint Arrowheads
My Guide to Fletching
My Guide to Primitive Fletching
Cymro wrote:Seriously, I'm not sure I'd fuck with Ad'lan if he had his bow with him. I just don't see that ending well.
Please Check out my PAW Story, Fagin

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Post by Swoop411 » Mon Aug 20, 2007 7:57 pm

-------------------------------------------
Last edited by Swoop411 on Sat Nov 26, 2016 7:19 pm, edited 1 time in total.
If you're reading this, you are the resistance.

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Post by Ad'lan » Tue Aug 21, 2007 12:24 am

Bio-Desiel
Me, Khan and Terry were going to Mr Punch’s. I was leaving Broadside in charge, though not the oldest, he was the most level headed. I wasn’t expecting any trouble really, but better safe than sorry. The Boys were gonna get some work done in the fields (weeding!, how much vloody weeding do you need to do! I understand why the farmers used to spray the fields with loads of pesticide now), and get on with some of their own projects, I liked to see them do their own stuff, showed they realised that if they wanted somthing, they had to make it.

Khan and Terry were the third and second smallest boys, Simon, the smallest, didn’t go anywhere without Broadside. Khan was an Asian kid, though he had a Norwich accent so thick you could walk on it. Terry was as a chocolate brown, but his hair was coppery. a Chocolate orange if you hadn’t of guessed. Both of them 14, city kids, and depending how you look at it, Lucky.

Mr Punch used to be a kindly old gentleman (this was Mr Punch the Younger). He used to give me toffees when me and my Grandfather came to visit. He had a Scrap Metal Yard, old farm equipment, anything and everything, boght and sold.

We set off in the tractor, the grey blue ford chugging away, the old engine I had fuel for, and we left behind the gone smell of fish and chips as we went.



Anyway, what was I saying?
Oh yes, the end of the world.
My Guide to making your own Bowstring
My Guide to making your own Flint Arrowheads
My Guide to Fletching
My Guide to Primitive Fletching
Cymro wrote:Seriously, I'm not sure I'd fuck with Ad'lan if he had his bow with him. I just don't see that ending well.
Please Check out my PAW Story, Fagin

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Post by CommonHighrise » Tue Aug 21, 2007 12:37 am

I tried to submit some more awesomeness into this story, but the forum gave me an error message, saying it was already exceeding capacity.

:lol: Can I have s'more please?
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Ad'lan
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Post by Ad'lan » Tue Aug 21, 2007 12:42 am

I have 5 hours on the train today. I promise to spend half that time writing.
My Guide to making your own Bowstring
My Guide to making your own Flint Arrowheads
My Guide to Fletching
My Guide to Primitive Fletching
Cymro wrote:Seriously, I'm not sure I'd fuck with Ad'lan if he had his bow with him. I just don't see that ending well.
Please Check out my PAW Story, Fagin

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Post by Ad'lan » Tue Aug 21, 2007 5:00 pm

Sooner or Later
They always say the world is about to end, No Ozone Layer, New Cold War, Human fertility decline, Terrorists, Fundamentalists, plain old Metalists. Actual Concerns, Possible Concerns and Conspiracy Nuts.

They always say....



I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m.... Well, I suppose you can call me Mr Barcham like everyone else who reads the gate post. I was going to be a Chemist. But then, I suppose I am, playing with the supplies I can find, trying to make life a bit easier (Not so much H.E. but certainly I.E.). I was a Survivalist, or at least, thats what my Missus laughingly called me. I wasn’t really. I tried to be, maybe it saved mylife, probably saved a few other lives. But I recon I could have done it better. At least. I should have done it better.

Now, now I suppose I’m a Father. I never intended to be.



It started like every other apocalypse. A few notes in Scientific Journals, a minor footnote in the broadsheets.
Then it got to the next stage. On a slow day (obviously, no celebrity had exposed themselves that day), one of the tabloids run a shocker headline WORLD ABOUT TO END!!! or some such bollocks. and then it simmerd for a while. Maybe there was a question about it in Primeminsiters Questions. A while later, the broadsheets picked it up again, more serious now. Now people were dying, and not in some poor insignificant country, real people.

Close the Borders, shut down international trade. Keep it out, keep it out! The Cry rang across the pages, the radio, across the screens and in the streets people were hyped up, scared and nervous.
The Goverment acted to shut it out, but it didn’t work. It was already here.



The Old Coast Road
Norfolk, very Flat Norfolk. Thats the sterotype, and it’s true, in the most part. But North Norfolk, thats better. Not so long ago, the Glaciers rolled down along here, crushed it and shaped it. Not great Valleys or Fijords, but rolls. Norfolks Mountain Range. all 50’ of it. The lazy wind comes in off the north sea, enough to flay you in winter, and the salt spay makes the tree’s lean inland. The Cliffs fade to dunes and the beachs go on for miles.

The Tractor chugged to a halt, and I turned off the engine. I dismounted from the oft repaired, badly sprung seat. Khan and Terry were riding Shotgun in the trailer. Literally in their case. I had the only real gun, but in rural norfolk, if you knew were too look, there were shotguns and sheels in plenty. 10 minutes with a hack saw to take the chokes off, and they fired slugs just as well. Admittidly, innaccurate, but so were the boys. 2 Shots was all they’d get at their effective range anyway. And it was the having that was important. It ment that others had to respect you, because you could fight back. Not having guns made you a target.


Target? Others? surely you didn’t think we were along in this world, now did you?

I wish.



We needed Car Batteries, But I knew we wouldn’t find any. I’d bought them all from Mr Punch back when he was alive. This time, we were looking for somthing in particular. The Problem with looking for somthing in Particular, in Mr Punchs yard at least, was that he was the only one he knew where things were, and he wasn’t left to tell.

I had seen it once before. Clinker Built, clean lines, hardly broken. Needed a new ridder and tiller, and I would guess a new mast, but first we had to find the dam thing. I’d cheked more than three quaters of the great storage sheds of corrugated Iron that some of the scrap was stored in, but I was still looking.

The Light that filterd in through grimey windows was barely enough to illuminate the shadows. but thankfully, my LED torches lasted, though I had run out of spare’s for my bulb ones.

A Click, and the electric light, gone from most everywhere else, returned to the little corner of the shed, as me, and the two boys poked through the old cars, rusted parts and other gubbins.



We Heaved, and hawled. The boys Grunting and pulling on ropes, while I Grunted and pushed the back. Or the stern I should say. We had Found her. 25’ long, single masted, I don’t know how she ended up in Mr Punches shed, because she was a beauty. It were a good job she was mounted on a carrige though, else we’d never have got her out. But with old scafolld polls as leavers, and more brute force than you’d think we could manage, we got the boat into the trailer. This Autum, when the Equinox tides brought in the herring, we would be there for our share.



Home
The Road throughn the village is still slightly disconcerting to me. The houses Derelict, some smashed, some boarded up, one burnet out shell. We Had long ago picked them clean of anything useful. The Vegtable Gardens are now run wild, but we still forage from them. The flint built walls and houses will one day be a source of material for our own projects.

Or, if we fail at civilisation, a source of tools.

My own House it’s self is typical of Norfolk. Red Brick Cornerd, tiled roof, and the flint and cement mix. Big and two storried, with the loft converted. a Horse Shoe of Sheds, Barns and stables surround another two sides, leaving an open courtyard, The final side is the drive. It used to be open, but now, the Gate I put in bars the way.Corrugated Iron bolted onto an old frame of Salvaged Scaffolding. It’s more of a symbol than anything else, it’d be easy enough to climb over, just like the flint and brik walls surrounding part of the land, the only really impenetrable defence are the old hedges. Wild Plum, Black Thorn, Hawthorn and Brair, with larger trees of Oak, Ash and Beech interspersed along them.

On one field, Two Dozen hutchs, filled with chickens, everyday, a couple of handful of left overs, and some mussle shell, every day a fresh patch of ground to scratch and peck to death. The Hutchs move up and down that feild, and by the time they are back where they started, the scarred earth and chicken shit has become lush grass again, even in winter, they only need a few more handfuls of scraps.

Another field had my flock of Jacob’s Sheep, they thrived on rich summer, autum and sping grass, though we needed to bring in extra cut hey to keep them in winter, rolled grains did just as well, and if necessary, I would cut winter pine tops, which sheep hate, but will eat, right down to the bark.

The final field had my cattle, half a dozen redpole cows, with their calves, and Lord Horance, the bull. I don’t know about all bulls, but redpole bulls are fine, when they’re getting some regular.

Mouser was on the gate that day, sitting on the platform up the big beech tree, scanning the horizon, with one of the less cut down shotguns. He waved to us cheerfull, and as we aproached, clamberd down the ladder and opend the gate for us, grinning as we wheeled the Boat inside. I had told them what we were looking for, and they were all longing for a taste of fresh fish just as much as me. However, Mouser knew the rules, Important announcements before fun, and so he told me of the guest waiting inside. Looking around, I realised that under the shade of the tree, tied to one of the beechs lower branchs, was a horse. It must be Charlie.






Wow, thats a lot, and theres more too, plenty more. I just wanna know how it's going so far, thanks for all the Comments that I've got. Any speculation as to the PAW cause or ither random stuff would make me very pleased. Because I have a head too small for most hats at the moment, it needs increasing. :roll:

More comming tommorow
Last edited by Ad'lan on Tue Nov 20, 2007 3:55 pm, edited 2 times in total.
My Guide to making your own Bowstring
My Guide to making your own Flint Arrowheads
My Guide to Fletching
My Guide to Primitive Fletching
Cymro wrote:Seriously, I'm not sure I'd fuck with Ad'lan if he had his bow with him. I just don't see that ending well.
Please Check out my PAW Story, Fagin

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Post by Politenessman » Tue Aug 21, 2007 7:14 pm

nice job .. really enjoying it. The descriptions are wonderful.
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Post by jeepinbandtrider » Tue Aug 21, 2007 7:20 pm

I like it. Are we going to get word on how it all started?
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Post by Ad'lan » Wed Aug 22, 2007 2:31 am

I have got some stuff hinting at it. I think It'll be strung out a bit.



Suppose I Suppose?
It’s supposed to have started in Indonesia, some where. Or was it Indo-asia? Somewhere east, heathen and un civillised, and so not worth us wealthy nations worrying about. It was some epidemic or other, the sort that produces thoise adds on telly where some aging rockstar looking to polish his soul is talking about how with the right drugs, all these people could be saved. Like thats what they want to hear, They could be saved, if we got off our fat arses. Which is true enough.



Bread Butterd on Both Sides
Charlie is 16, Posh, and one of the Nicest people I’ve met. Him and his Boyfriend, Reg, live a few villages over, working a huge set of poly tunnels. You wouldn’t think it, but when it has gone, you really start to miss salad. His Growing season is year round, his produce sublime. Peppers, Tomatoes, cucumbers and melons, as well as Herbs and spices. My Grandfather and Reg’s grandfather were old army buddies, Reg and Charlie are who we trade the most with. They Bought a Dozen Chickens off me last year, as well as half a bullock, and 2 lambs. In exchange for a share of each crop as it ripend, and some cuttings that would survie my inexperianced care.

I had tried to convince them to move onto my farm, part for their skills, and part for their saftey. But some of my boys, wern’t comfortable with, well, with Charlie and Reg. I had to split up a fight between Charlie and,one of my boys, I’ll name no names. Of Course, because charlie was winning, I don’t think it’ll happen again.



Charlie was sitting inside, and Broadside was entertaining him, good lad, both of them were drinking tea, bramble leaf or mint only I’m afraid, but better than nothing. Sam and Eric were inside baking, and some of the biscuits they had fresh made were sitting on the table. They whisperd somthing to each other as I enterd, but I paid it no mind. Kids gotta have secrets after all.
Last edited by Ad'lan on Tue Nov 20, 2007 3:58 pm, edited 1 time in total.
My Guide to making your own Bowstring
My Guide to making your own Flint Arrowheads
My Guide to Fletching
My Guide to Primitive Fletching
Cymro wrote:Seriously, I'm not sure I'd fuck with Ad'lan if he had his bow with him. I just don't see that ending well.
Please Check out my PAW Story, Fagin

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Post by CommonHighrise » Wed Aug 22, 2007 3:02 am

Im really getting into this story. For a PAW story, it reads less like a Tom Clancey novel and more like...My Side of The Mountain or Hatchet. Just day by day agricultural survival.

Dont worry too much about violent action and epic global tales, im plenty interested to find out whats happening to the lads of north Norfolk.
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Post by Ad'lan » Wed Aug 22, 2007 3:29 am

My side of the Mountain is one kick arse series. My Dad brought it back for me from America, and it was one of the things that kept my love of wilderness and survival learning going. Thats what I love about learning these skills, there's always somthing knew. If I loose interest in one thing, the next stage of it drags me back.


Birthday
In the 1300’s, Black Death swept Europe, it scoured it clean. Whole Villages died. Infected households were boarded up, the sick and the healty, to stop it spreading. fully a third of England died a hideous death. A simple treatment of Antibiotics is enough to stop it. When you realise this, makes you wonder.



Charlie had brought me a birthday present. And my boys came pouring into the room, Everyone but Mouser, who was still watching the gate. I don’t know how they knew, but they did. Little presents, wrapped in cloth because we couldn’t spare the paper. Reg is the only one who even knew I exsisted from before, and we were only aquaintinces.

From before. Yeah. From before.


All Humanity is connected, you don’t realise it, but we are. And it dosn’t matter how far back you go, you are still connected. In the world that was, ....before, Dam near everything came from abroad. Not just stuff life cheap clothes and out of season food, But raw materials, lumber, coal, steel, finished goods as well as the basics.

And when the goverment shut the gates?

Well, Stocks lasted a while, and north sea gas and oil still came in, which was a blessing. Then the Food riots. We Farmers were lucky really, If we sold our food, we became rich, finally being paid what they were worth, rather than scraps from the supermarkets table. People wern’t gona starve after all? This is england. People don’t starve in civillised countrys.

There was talk of reopening the Pits, and the steel works, apparently geologists knew of relitivly untapped deposits, never worked on because the mining would damage englands senic beauty. But it never got around to that.

I hope someone did. One day, we’ll run out of scrap, and one day, we’ll need that coal.
Last edited by Ad'lan on Tue Nov 20, 2007 4:01 pm, edited 1 time in total.
My Guide to making your own Bowstring
My Guide to making your own Flint Arrowheads
My Guide to Fletching
My Guide to Primitive Fletching
Cymro wrote:Seriously, I'm not sure I'd fuck with Ad'lan if he had his bow with him. I just don't see that ending well.
Please Check out my PAW Story, Fagin

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Post by jimbawb » Wed Aug 22, 2007 6:18 am

Ad'lan; this is a really good story, I like your writing style a lot- I guess I can more easily visualise the main characters voice and the overall setting, having been to Norfolk a fair few times.
Anywho keep it up :wink:

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Post by jimbawb » Wed Aug 22, 2007 6:19 am

Eek! Double post!

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Ad'lan
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Post by Ad'lan » Wed Aug 22, 2007 7:21 am

Wompom
Mango’s. A tin of Mango’s.

That was what Charlie and Reg had got for me. I don’t think they knew how much I would enjoy them. Every sunday, I would lounge in a hammock, or on the sofa, and drink a Mango Smoothie. 1 tin of Mango’s, half pint of icecream, and a few sploshes of rum.

Of course, that was back before.

As I smiled, and people pressed me to uncover theirs next, a hush spread, and Sam and Eric walked in, Carrying a Huge Platter between them, of a roughly round cake, about a foot and a half across. My Birthday cake, with one batterd candel perched ontop.

And they Sang, not all in tune, but loudly, and with gusto.
‘Happy Birthday! Dear Uncle
Happy Birthday!
Too You!’

I blew out the candel, and thought.

I hadn’t ment to be an Uncle. It had started with Adrian.
My Grandfather was a teacher, and when he retired, he stayed involved. We used to host inner city kids for the summer, teaching them about the country side, showing them a bit of britain other than the grubby concrete of the cities. Some were trouble makers, some from broken homes, some we never heard from again, and some went on the straight and narrow, and wrote letters to my grandfather.

I remember teaching kids to run down trimmingham cliffs, or laughing at their refusal to eat scrambled eggs, because they were ‘too yellow’.

One of the letter writers was Adrians mum, thats why he has his real name. When things got bad in london, she sent him to us. I suppose if we rural folk had turned them all away, we might have been unscathed, but I think not, might have lasted a bit longer, but It’d of happend.

He came up here. And well, a Man and a Boy can do the work of two men, suddenly things started to get done, things that I had been waiting to get a round to.
Last edited by Ad'lan on Tue Nov 20, 2007 4:02 pm, edited 1 time in total.
My Guide to making your own Bowstring
My Guide to making your own Flint Arrowheads
My Guide to Fletching
My Guide to Primitive Fletching
Cymro wrote:Seriously, I'm not sure I'd fuck with Ad'lan if he had his bow with him. I just don't see that ending well.
Please Check out my PAW Story, Fagin

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Post by Ad'lan » Wed Aug 22, 2007 3:27 pm

Familey
Then When things started to get worse. Adrians Cousins showed up. in a batterd volvo. I was going to run them off, two big Black Lads, blinged out, and driving what I assumed (rightly) was a stolen car. Till Adrian recognised them.

You wouldn’t think to look at them, half a head taller than me, Afro’s now they don’t shave their heads, Blinged out to the hilt, and their cousin being 5’5” freckled, and pasty.

But, thats london for you, don’t bother me none. They are good strong lads, and like Adrian, took to the farm pretty quick. They, of all my Kids knew Grandfather, and it’s them I trust the livestock with the most. They Say a Man and a boy can do the work of two men. A Man and two boys the work of a Man and a half, and a Man and 3 boys get no work done at all. Thankfully, not the case this time.

We may not have the vet now, but we have Stockmens books going back a few hundred years, with folk remedys, old wives tales and some that look like they might work. We Haven’t lost a Cow or Sheep yet, though we have lost a few lambs. I don’t know what too, a pair of them just wasted away. Didn’t risk eating them, we burned them down wind of the other livestock.



The other lads, well, to understand how I adopted some of them, you have to understand what happend...
Last edited by Ad'lan on Tue Nov 20, 2007 4:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.
My Guide to making your own Bowstring
My Guide to making your own Flint Arrowheads
My Guide to Fletching
My Guide to Primitive Fletching
Cymro wrote:Seriously, I'm not sure I'd fuck with Ad'lan if he had his bow with him. I just don't see that ending well.
Please Check out my PAW Story, Fagin

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Post by Ad'lan » Sat Aug 25, 2007 4:20 pm

Chloramphynlholi.... Chloramphenihical.... Chloramfenny....
I don’t really know what happend. I’m not a Doctor. I’m not even a Docor of Chemistry. People got sick, in London, then Birmingham, Manchester, Edinburgh, all the Major citys of Britain. Then the Towns. The Hospitals were filled. The Medcines to treat it ran out, and they started to make more. The medcine wasn’t hard to make. Some simple Benzene Ring thing I could synthasise with an A-leval chem kit. Within 3 months, they would have enough for everyone on the country, and half again as much to top it off.

Of course, before 3 months were gone, it was too late. That was 6 months ago come midsummer.


People, they said it was the end of the world. This time, they claimed it was the Mayans. Wern’t there fault. They’ve been gone nigh on 500 years anyway. But, for the ending of an age, it wasn’t that effective.
At the end of the first world. Less than half a dozen live, At the end of the second, the same, at the end of the third, the same. At the end of the fourth? As terrible as it was, I have twice as many under my roofs, as they say survived the last time.





Enjoying it?
Last edited by Ad'lan on Tue Nov 20, 2007 4:14 pm, edited 2 times in total.
My Guide to making your own Bowstring
My Guide to making your own Flint Arrowheads
My Guide to Fletching
My Guide to Primitive Fletching
Cymro wrote:Seriously, I'm not sure I'd fuck with Ad'lan if he had his bow with him. I just don't see that ending well.
Please Check out my PAW Story, Fagin

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Post by cma1252 » Sun Aug 26, 2007 2:41 pm

Ad'lan wrote:Enjoying it?


Very much so :)

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Post by Ad'lan » Sun Aug 26, 2007 4:18 pm

Find the Space
Norfolk is Fairly Sparesly Populated for the south half of england. Only got one real city, and half a dozen large towns. Then nothing but fields, villages, and a few patches of wood or heathland. Get out in the country side, you might think it’s a pretty empty place.

Go Up north, the Pennines, or the moors in cornwall. Not a soul for miles around.

You could think parts of britain were pretty empty. But their not.

If Every Soul from before, stood equidistent from, every other, there would be 260 of us in thousand yard square.

Theres was nigh on 60 million of us. 60 Million. Million.

If it had been the 1918 Flu, there should have been 40 Million left.
If it had been Black deat, there should have been 20 Million.



Black Death, the Black death is a terrible disease. Swellings and pus, immense pain and mad feaver. When it scoured Europe. There was hardly enough left alive to bury the dead.

The Filled the Cemitaries, and when they were full, they had no where to put the bodies, the bodies that kept falling.

So they buried them a little shallower. Till the grave yard were full. Then they stacked them, ontop. or in mass graves, in the unused spaces of the world, empty patchs of pavement within the city walls.

So many dropped dead, that in Tombland in Norwich, there, to this day, are raised grassy sections, because they could not dig deep enough for the pit. there is a street, with a wall that towers over it. The street goes down the side of the hill, but the chruchyard who’s wall it is remains flat and leval, built on the bones of the thousands dumped in mass graves.

At least they got buried.


Please, keep the comments comming, they are what I live for :wink:

Critizisms are welcome even more than complemets.
Last edited by Ad'lan on Tue Nov 20, 2007 4:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.
My Guide to making your own Bowstring
My Guide to making your own Flint Arrowheads
My Guide to Fletching
My Guide to Primitive Fletching
Cymro wrote:Seriously, I'm not sure I'd fuck with Ad'lan if he had his bow with him. I just don't see that ending well.
Please Check out my PAW Story, Fagin

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Post by CommonHighrise » Sun Aug 26, 2007 5:19 pm

I like the mentality and thoughts behind such massive epidemics, but still keeping what the actual cause of this one is. Very good writing. Cant think of anything to correct on it so far.
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Post by Ad'lan » Sun Aug 26, 2007 5:41 pm

What, No suger?
In the first two weeks, nearly everyone got better. Everyone had Enough Drugs. And there wern’t nearly as many of us.

I say us, because I was one of them. Porbably caught it visiting my Girlfriend in...
Well, I don’t want to talk about it. Suffice to say I caught it. I got sick. and Then I got better. I was one of the first cases in Norfolk.

But by the end of that month? No Medcine, no Doctors spare, no hospital beds. All you got if you were lucky was chicken soup. That worked, for some.


It was fast. It was oh so fast. You died fast, that was one of the good things about it. because I wouldn’t want anyone to go through what must be worse than I went through for more than the week it takes to die. After a Week, you were either dead, or you would live.


I don’t know how many people lived through the disease. I think the only Adults who survived, are those of us who got the disease early, and got treated. The treatment ment our bodys had long enough to mount an immune response.

I say the only Adults, because thats who we are, the only Adults. Most everyone else who survived is under 20. And most of them under 16.


Your Guess is as good as mine
I’m not a Doctors, as I’ve said before. Not even a Doctor of Chemistry. But I know A-leval Biology well enough. At least, I did a few years back. I reckon it has somthing to do with that T-Cell and B-Cell white blodd stuff we used to do.

You only have say 50,000 of this kind of Blood cell, a Memory Cell (T or B, who cares?), but you only need one to record a disease you encounter, and make antibodys to fight it off next time.

But the thing is, you use one each tme you do enocunter a disease. Thats why they immunatise you young. Imagine how many different kinds of common cold you will enoucnter in your life, each strain a little different, each one using up your stock of memory.

After a certain point, you can’t make anymore, you find it harder to fight off infections, all you’ve got is the stuff you programmed when you were a kid. Maybe, if you had enough of these, and were lucky, you lived. If you were old, and didn’t have enough, or weak, or just unluky. you died.

I’m not a doctor, and thats as good an explanation as any to tell my boys.




Common, when you think about it, is the average survivor gonna know what happend? All he'll have is guess work, like the above.


Glad you are enjoying it, I'm enjoying writing. Would anyone like a Cameo at any point, either as one of the dead or one of the living? Common, would you be willing? seeing as I was in your webcomic?
Last edited by Ad'lan on Tue Nov 20, 2007 4:19 pm, edited 1 time in total.
My Guide to making your own Bowstring
My Guide to making your own Flint Arrowheads
My Guide to Fletching
My Guide to Primitive Fletching
Cymro wrote:Seriously, I'm not sure I'd fuck with Ad'lan if he had his bow with him. I just don't see that ending well.
Please Check out my PAW Story, Fagin

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Post by Outsider » Mon Aug 27, 2007 7:47 pm

I don't suppose you could sneak me in somewhere, could you? If it's not too much trouble... :wink:

Regardless, brilliant story so far. There really is not enough survivalist literature set in the UK. One negative comment; there are a number of typos in your story. Might I suggest looking over the story a few times prior to posting? Not to say you're not, but...

I'll stop digging before I hit the bedrock. :oops:
"Went the day well?"

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By Outsider_XT at 2007-08-21

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Post by Ad'lan » Tue Aug 28, 2007 5:46 am

I plead Dyslexia. And the amount of time it would take me to fix the posts would cut seriously into my writing time. I'm sure people would rather more story, than better spelt story.

As for the Cameo, sure when I get around to it. PM me the details of what you think you would be doing in this PAW.


Feast
We ate well that night, my Birthday feast. And when you feed a Dozen hungry lads, every meal seems like a feast. We dined on Salt Beef, and Potatoes with butter (well, churned cream. Looks like a bit like butter, tastes a bit like butter. But I don’t think I’ve got it quite right yet.). Sweet Spring greens as a side. The Last of Reg and Charlies chills went into a sauce, with some of the cider vinegar (it was ment to be just cider, but it went wrong). And then there was the cake. bit crisp on the Edge, and a bit soggy in the middle, but Sam and Eric were learning still, and it was good, very good to us.

We Drank as well that night, and drained one of the cider casks. Not to worry, we had two more, and one of home brew ale. However, the lack of hops ment I could not produce more of the beer, I was saving it.

We were very well off, the way I measured things. And this was during the Starving times, early summer. I knew that in the city things would be tough.
Last edited by Ad'lan on Tue Nov 20, 2007 4:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.
My Guide to making your own Bowstring
My Guide to making your own Flint Arrowheads
My Guide to Fletching
My Guide to Primitive Fletching
Cymro wrote:Seriously, I'm not sure I'd fuck with Ad'lan if he had his bow with him. I just don't see that ending well.
Please Check out my PAW Story, Fagin

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