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	A Rotting Eden 300 years after the Apocalypse came and went, the survivors join wandering gangs called Tribes in a bid for survival in a world without nations. This is the story of one man's struggle in one of the last remaining cities on Earth.

	My dreams are getting weirder and weirder.
	My dreams are getting weirder and weirder.


My brain is really messing with me. I smell something salty. And sometimes, I enjoy poking at the soft spot on my head where the bone is supposed to be growing in. Bleeding Apocalypse · Wed Nov 09, 2005 @ 11:42am · 2 Comments


Bleeding Apocalypse Community Member «Prev \| Next» Archive \| Home [05/04/12 02:12am] [04/11/12 04:40pm] [01/26/12 10:03pm] [12/27/11 09:32pm] [04/19/11 01:56am] [11/04/09 10:24pm] [08/20/09 03:39pm] [07/29/09 06:27pm] [08/13/07 03:06am] [04/07/07 05:21pm]

	User Comments: [2]
	User Comments: [2]


	Dun, stop poking it or I'll cut your damn fingers off. Offline Sir Schmerz · Community Member · Wed Nov 09, 2005 @ 04:26pm


	Nu.. don't poke it Aramis... o_O That... sounds slightly dangerous... Offline BallisticsJello · Community Member · Thu Nov 10, 2005 @ 12:10pm

	User Comments: [2]
	User Comments: [2]

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