Letters from the Quarantine Zone- A Through the Breach Story

[edonil]

So, here's the second of the Through the Breach stories from me. Hope you all enjoyed Lost Ways, it was fun to write. I know I mentioned The Most Dangerous Prey at the end of Lost Ways, but I'll be waiting on that one. Instead, this is another experiment for things, a bit more light-hearted than anything I've done before. This is a collection of letters from professional game hunter Sir Willoughby Toddhunter-Brown (known to friends as Nigel) to his wife on his first expedition into Malifaux, hunting Neverborn in the Quarantine Zone. These are going to be shorter segments, but odds are it'll be updated more often because of that. Hope you guys enjoy it, and feedback is welcome. Here goes:

Dear Fanny,

Breachside is a strange place. Malifaux city has a curious odd charm, even if it does make London look pleasant. Too dark by half, even during the day, and everyone seems to walk on edge. The travel through the Breach was a bit of an odd thing. So many of my fellow passengers complained about the trip, even one peasant who passed out, but I didn't notice anything. The superstitious talk about the Breach like it's alive, saying that it has fun trying to make people nuts. Silly old wives the lot of them.

I met my contact shortly after arrival. Horrible accent, reminds me of trying to deal with those pygmies on my last hunting outing. It took a while to make out what he was saying, but I finally understood him to be telling me that his name was Adrik Ivanov. A Russian, here in Malifaux! Strange and bizarre. Still, he finally started speaking proper English after a while, and we made arrangements to get on with the hunt.

I'm here with a few other hunters, apparently. The only one I've met so far is an American, thoroughly unpleasant fellow, rude and unkempt. Not a proper gentleman hunter at all. Named John Smith, and isn't that a generic name! You wouldn't like the man at all, Fanny. I think he must roll in the dirt, the way that it sticks to his clothes. He's been to Malifaux before, but hasn't gotten anything of note just yet.

Well, I need to wrap this up now. Apparently the others are showing up, and we're going to be heading out soon. Hopefully the others are easier to deal with than Smith, I don't know how I would put up with more like him. Give my love to the kids.

Sincerely Yours,

Sir Willoughby Toddhunter-Brown

[edonil]

Dear Fanny,

Americans. Every single one of the other hunters on this trip are Americans. And John Smith seems to be the best one out of all of them, sadly. Something needs to be done about that country, they have no sense of manners, and have no idea how to speak at all! But worse than that, none of them have a proper sense of what makes a hunt truly worthwhile. The lot of them, talking about all the money they'll make for whatever they find. It makes me so annoyed to think that they're here for such impure reasons. One of them even brought along some sort of an automatic rifle, and isn't that just unsporting!

We're on our fourth day here in Malifaux, and I spent the last two days arguing with them on what we should hunt. They tried to convince me to go out into the Wilds, hunting a Sabertooth Cerberus! Like anyone would be able to tell it was a three headed tiger after I hung the heads on the wall. Besides, we've already got those two tigers in the den, five heads like that would just be tacky.

No, I'm here for the exotic. I mean, this is Malifaux! A big game hunter's dream come true- all the most dangerous predators known to man in one convenient location. I'm not interested in hunting some sort of altered tiger, or a bear, we have those back home. Any idiot with a rifle can kill a bear, whether it has four limbs or six. I intend to get something worth the story, a Nephilim, or maybe even one of those Teddies we've heard the stories about.

I wasn't getting anywhere arguing with them, so I desperately made a bet with them- if I beat them in a drinking contest, we'd go into the Quarantine Zone instead of the Wilds. The idiots went along with it, and a quick bribe to the bartender meant that it wasn't long before the lot of them were under the table. Don't judge me for such an action, Fanny, I know it was hardly sporting, but they were just so insistent on wasting this opportunity. I couldn't let that happen, who knows when I'd have the time to come back?

Today we're heading into the Quarantine Zone, so I'm not sure when my next letter will go out. Somehow our guide managed to get together the permission for us to go in, but did charge us extra. I decided to not inquire further. Give my love to the kids, and tell George to mind his letters. Just because I'm not there to keep an eye on him is no excuse for slacking! We don't want him to end up like the Americans I have to deal with.

Sincerely Yours,

Sir Willoughby Toddhunter-Brown