I’m going to try and tell a story with my new Kenshi Run
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Kenshi: The Holy Insurrection
I: The Most Dangerous Game
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Gostrand awoke to a horror, unlike anything he had known before. He was inside Blister Hill, at the heart of Okran’s Pride. Fate had a cruel plan for him, as if this was any normal day, he’d have been cut down in an instant, finally ending the depressive life-cycle that all skeletons endure. But this was not any normal day. The Holy Phoenix set out for the most dangerous game on the forsaken moon: he was to orchestrate a hunt within his city. And Gostrand’s head was the prize.

He was awoken by a blinding light. Unveiled in the middle of the city as an animal to be hunted. Holy Citizens gazed in pure amazed horror. This was of the same ilk as the unholy machines they were taught to fear, now bound like a beast. “SK- SKELETON!!!” one of them screamed in terror. “This minion of the dark demoness is bound like a slave! Glorious!” yelled another.

Gostrand was left speechless. There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do to convince these slaves to religion that he was no harm to them. But it was worthless to try. The phoenix had willed it so that a skeleton would be hunted on this Prayer Day, and the Holy Nation would have their prize.

His handler unbound him, and he was given a minute to run, to hide. But three overzealous fanatics followed him against the orders of the paladins and cornered Gostrand in a recently abandoned storm house.

To Gostrand’s surprise, this building hadn’t yet been picked clean by beggars and there was still a weapon in an old display case. A large, very heavy sword. Cornered, and without choices, Gostrand chose fight over flight and retaliated against his assailants using the sword. One by one they were cut down. But Gostrand did not make it out of the fight without an injury. His left leg had taken a heavy beating. So had his abdominal region. He scoured the house for a place to hide and to recuperate, until he finally discovered a crawlspace. By now the hunt was officially on, but still in this cramped space he hid.

He stayed put for what felt like hours until he could bear to walk again. He snuck out of the storm house, sticking to the alleys of the religious capital. But his sneaking would come to an end when he reached the city gate. Heavily guarded to prevent the skeleton’s escape during the event. Gostrand had no choice but to wait for an opportunity.

He weighed every choice, reminding himself that his life was on the line. The damage his chassis had suffered was not permanent, but it would be a detriment during this final leg of the escape. He had nearly lost his focus when finally a surgeon and her band of guards began moving past the gates. This was it. This was the opportunity Gostrand had been waiting for. He bolted past the gate sentinels and linked in with the crowd of surgeon’s guild guards. The holy sentinels pursued, but the guild, and Gostrand, was too fast for them.

Gostrand was gone and free.