LOCATION: Sulphur, Louisiana
STATUS: Cautious, Observant
After a good week or so on the old highway, I found myself in Sulphur, Louisiana. The name alone carries weight—volatile and sharp. The air is thick with chemical stench that clings to skin and clothes, a warning before the encounter.
The town is eerily quiet. Crumbling factories haunt the horizon, ghosts of industry long dead. Movement nearby, raiders, scavengers, silent and watchful, none willing to make the first move. The ground is stained with yellow crystals. Sand fused into jagged formations, earth pushing unnatural things upward.
These sulfur deposits aren’t like the others I’ve seen. There’s a pulse to them, especially near bubbling sulfur pools that still hiss their ancient, acrid warning. Resource or trap. I’ll treat it as both. The wasteland’s silent killers hide beneath familiar surfaces.
Scavenged what I could: gas stations, homes, a mostly intact library. A few holotapes and a toolkit—small prizes in a quiet tomb.
Sulphur is a ghost, but I feel a heartbeat beneath the dust. The Sulphur Supermarket lies just ahead. Answers—or danger—await. I’ll meet them prepared.
—Big Chief
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