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About Eschen

Me fave bit? When they talk back—cheeky! “What’s it to ya?” one snapped at me. Feisty, like Malik spittin’ at fate. But ugh, the stink—sweat, cheap perfume, desperation. We hates it! Still, gotta say, they’re scrappers, survivin’ like us in them dark holes. Ever think, precious, how they’d smirk at us—two-faced Gollum judgin’ *them*? Hah! Fair play, maybe. Prossies and me, we’re both chasin’ somethin’—them, cash; me, that shiny Ring. “It’s ours!” we’d both cry, mad as hell. What a mess, eh?

What Really Happened Inside This Nazi Brothel?

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When I get there, the stone’s gone! I’m like, “No way!” I start asking around, and this kid points to a group of teenagers. They’re using it as a frisbee! I’m fuming, but I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity. I march over, and they’re like, “What’s this?” I’m like, “That’s my livelihood, you punks!” They just look at me, wide-eyed.

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