The ANZ Apotheosis - Prologue
There was a low buzz of conversation in the RSL accompanied by the discordant tintinnabulation of poker machines. He shuffled slowly up to the community notice board by the bar, giving the rack of bottles behind the bar a long, lascivious look as he did so. Each time he lifted a foot from the ancient obligatory muted toned carpet, his shoes made a sound like someone parting Velcro. In one corner, a gaggle of desperate looking punters were watching the inevitable sports broadcast. From the looks of it, Imp Fighting being broadcast out of the new pit they just finished building in Wollonwrong . Most seemed to be cheering for an emaciated yet wiry looking bucca with a trident the size of a slightly overly large salad fork - "Cousin Jack". A few desperadoes were barracking for a homonculus that looked like it had been slapped together from a few nails and the contents of a medical waste bin - "Toothy Hairy". Unsurprisingly, a vaguely humanoid mass of flesh covered i
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