Everworld Dreams
Where did all the pagan deities go when the western world took over? They escaped into a world of... View more
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Setting Up Shop
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Setting Up Shop
On the corner of an otherwise deserted street a severely battered van pulls up. It lurches to a halt and the driver door is thrown open. Wombat staggers down, falling more than climbing, his thin arms pinwheeling desperately. He catches himself before he hits the ground completely and straightens up. He is tall and thin, with long, brown wiry hair probably in need of a wash and cut, which sticks out in every direction. He wears a suit that had seen better days 20 years ago. It is stretched tight over his bony frame, and almost completely covered by the enormous grey overcoat he wears on top. He stares about him, patting himself down and retrieving a heavily-dogeared pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes. He lights up, inhales, holds it in, then releases, a look of ecstasy on his face. He grins up at the sun above him, the cigarette clamped between his teeth. He strides around to the back of the van and tugs on the rear doors. They stay resolutely shut. He grabs the handle with both hands, plants his feet firm on the bumper and PULLS! They pop open, throwing his down onto the ground. He sighs, gets up, retrieves his smoldering dog-end and clambers into the back. He soon returns with a banner under one arm, a folding chair and a bright, battered purple top hat planted firmly on his head. He strides to the side of the van, drops the chair and hangs the banner from 2 nails drilled into the roof. It reads, in faded gold and green letters, “WOMBAT NIMBUS: OCCULT INVESTIGATOR”. He stares at it briefly then sits down contentedly in his chair, hat tipped to block the sun and a fresh cigarette already lit. Another grin stretches across his pointed features. Wombat Nimbus is open for business.
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