--The Poor Man’s Guide to Astoria
By Jack Alexin of Sarendale

"The world ain’t what it used to be."
Old Blood Saying

There used to be green grass in front of every house, trees lining every street, water falling from the sky in life-giving sheets…at least that’s what the picture books say. They also say that there were cities so massive they took days to cross and everybody had a home, two cars, three holovids (whatever the hell those are), and so much food they were throwing it out just because the bread got stale.

Well, that’s not the world I live in. I don’t have to worry about traffic jams or paychecks or free time. Instead, I get to deal with Slasher attacks, Zirech assassins, and the Unclean leaving disease behind in their footsteps. Not to mention the Forsaken from the Cursed Wastelands. I long for the days where I could lounge about in a chair and let the sun bathe me in its orange light. Of course, that was only for thirty seconds before my mother smacked my behind and put goggles on my face and a blanket over my body. “The sun kills, don’tcha know?” she used to say. She was always like that.

I don’t know what happened for sure. No one really does, to be honest. All we do know is that magic fire and nuclear war blanketed the world in a terrible glow. Entire cities were laid to waste, victims of their own technology. Then there was the Great Curse placed upon the lands, changing the very laws of nature.

What is generally accepted as the “true” story is this: it started with the awakening of a dark power known as Tor’man. You know, those super-powerful beings that can control and change the world with a thought? Anyway, he was awakened from his prison stasis by some fanatical cult. After awakening, he dedicated himself to taking over the world and destroying anyone that did not serve him. After an unknown time of battling with him, the Old Bloods, with the help of some previously slumbering Powers, defeated Tor’man and sent him back to his hole. They were, sadly, not quick enough to stop him from a devastating repost that cursed the land and tore this world apart.

Not much survived the Great Destruct, as the Scholars call it, but a few of us managed to crawl from the radioactive sludge and find refuge in “pockets.” These are small areas of habitable land where the rain isn’t acid, the grass isn’t poisonous, and the soil isn’t arid. We can grow food to eat and can raise families again. It’s from these “city-states” that we’ve carved a niche in this world.

With that said, let me introduce myself. I am a retired thief. I used to call myself a “resource adjuster,” but regardless of the label, I was always a thief. So then why hire a thief to write a book? It’s because I know the truth about everything that goes on here on our little island in the sun! So, pay attention. I’m only going to say this once.