Zombicide: March of the All Flesh
Littleton, West Virginia is a small town. It has a papermill and a coal mine where the majority of it's male populace work, and the majority of it's female populace are homemakers. Most people drop out of school around sixteen to find a job. Some are pulled out by their parents before that. Not everyone in this town fits this cookie cutter stereotype of the blue collar family but those who don't are outsiders. News travels slowly to Littleton and nothing unusual ever happens here.
At least, that's always been true in the past. A truck driver drove into a wafflehouse in littleton at a quarter past ten telling an amazing story about the junky who bit a hole in his arm. That was on the other side of Littleton. Now it's aproaching one in the morning. You've been sitting in The Last Stop, a bara and diner on the edge of town that's open twenty four hours a day, every day but Sunday. What brought you to the diner is your business but what brought you together is a shared experience that involved collateral damage gunfire and the walking dead. It's a vague description, but then it all happened so fast...
Now most of the population of Littleton seems to have gone brain hungry. It was a short bloody battle to secure the bar, and even then it's only secure in the relative sense. You'll need to make the decision to secure th bar or get the hell out of Littleton. One thing's for sure. You'll have to move quickly and learn to trust each other along the way if you are to have any chance of survival. A quick search of the establishment turned up a fireaxe, a crowbar, a pistol, and enough pans for a cullinary cuircus. It will have to do.
