Braeden Mahoney & Sean King
Monday.
Day ten. My mind is ravaged by the absence of my fellow countrymen, replaced
instead by a rare zombified breed who see the practice of craic as an activity
worthy of recreation. We arose in the morning's wee hours to depart from the
alien stronghold and get a head start on the long road ahead of us. While
conditions remain bleak, my companions and I retain our resilience even in the
face of imminent and sure destruction. After many hours of travel in our secure
land vessel, we finally arrived at the rendezvous point where our rescue team
has agreed to airlift us out of this disease ridden land, known locally as
"The Cliffs of Moher." While staring into the face of death and
disease, the cliffs provide us with a glimpse of beauty that is rare to find in
this lonely land of darkness. We remain patient for hours until accepting the
undeniable truth: our team has not survived the land's torments and has surely
died at sea. We must find other means of escape.
After
a disappointing attempt at liberation, we return to the vessel and continue on
our path while we still possess the light of day. We take a short break at the
Burren whose unique landscape provides an opportunity to gauge the land and sea
to spot potential rescuers, but unfortunately, our efforts come to no avail. We
press forward and eventually come to a land unfamiliar to our party, the land
of Galway which may be the key to our freedom. We split up into separate and
elite search parties and scour the lands for assistance, until accepting defeat
and moving on down the road. But what luck! While traveling the unknown lands
of Galway we have found a rebel saloon, "The Galway Plate," where we
are able to fortify ourselves and replenish our nutrients after a long day of
striving for hope. Bellies full and minds redetermined, we accept that safety
shall not find us today, and we crawl our way back into the belly of the beast.
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