She be constrictor, this Bliznarok. You can see her, plain as day, coming from the distance, yet she is upon you in a blink and you find yourself in her death grip. Mobility near impossible but your brain is still working while she slowly tightens her grasp. Soon she swallows you whole.
Going it alone during the storm can sound appealing but there is safety in numbers, so my travel companion and I venture out into the storm in search of a tribe.
The streets are empty as far as the eye can see. That which She allows us to see. We pass a lone worker shoveling snow outside the entrance to Peter's Restaurant. He's been at it a while, his face belying his lost cause. A brief "hello" and "good morning" and we are on the moving. His greeting more a chance to catch his breath than anything but else.
At the Expo Hall we find our tribe. They've emerged from the drifts and snow banks seeking our same goals; a group, knowledge, and sustenance. The latter being the first we will lose in the coming days.
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