*Hailstones and fireballs rain down outside as the bell of the town church peals wildly. A man dressed in a voluminous black deck coat suddenly is sitting at the table against the wall, a brick-sized black box studded with buttons, toggles, jewel lights and intriguing-looking dials and gauges sitting beside his hand as he leans back in his chair against the wall, sipping from a large glass mug of black beer. It is as if the bell has caused him to appear. He takes out a large gold turnip watch, opens the cover and three separate faces fold out as he glances toward the black bricklike object and mutters to himself*
Five PM, March fourteenth, eighteen...eighty....eight. Earth, Purgatory New Mexico, America, Anglo-Celtic Hegemony, Fourth Steam Revolution subspiral....
*glances outside as the last of many hailstones and fireballs fall to the street surface, and traffic resumes*
Weather is biblical, causality uncertain at this time, no sign of aberrant energy fluctuations or extre-dimensional phenomenae at present.
Barkeep, fill me back up, if'n ya please.
*walks over and puts the empty mug on the bar*
Now, which one o' you fellows saw the walkin' dead?
