2235…
You’d think it would be a world flourishing with abundance of life and technology. A pure Science Fiction setting where synthetics, AIs and clones would have replaced the majority of population.
Jet packs, rocket boots, flying cars and personal flight drones would have taken control of the skies.
Or that some goody two shoes of a hero would have saved humanity and brought about world peace?
No it wasn’t...
There were no continents, no countries. No nations. There were no borders.
After an unforeseen event, the whole planet had become a wasteland.
Oceans and lakes were gone. Trees were no more. The sun was abnormally hot—If not anything you could clearly see the heatwaves seeping out from the ground and rising up.
Basically, the whole planet had become one enormous desert, unsuitable for survival.
There was nothing but sand as far as the eye could see, baked by the flaring sun. If it wasn’t the shade of sand you’d confuse it for an ocean at a standstill. Small and large dunes were similar to waves that any person in constant motion would definitely think they moved.
To think something like this could happen.
What could have brought such destruction to this beautiful planet we call home?
From above, even if it was without coloration from the pinkish glow of the ready to set sun the serpentine dunes which spreads across the plane were… breathtaking.
Not a single structure in sight…
“Aarh… aarh…aarh”
The only recognizable sound was that of vultures (?), who had been circling, screaming as they descended for a carcass on the desert floor, their first catch of the day.
Clearly one could see the yield was rotten, but not a single fly or worm had laid claim to it. The abnormality of the sun’s heat was enough to kill any insect and hinder any further decomposition. It was so dry the only conclusion one could give was the predator(s) which took down the beast left it in such conditions, before.
Perching around the carcass of the unfamiliar beast it would quickly escalate to becoming a battle field.
Survival of the most savage.
The committee of six; three which were vultures and the other three vulturelike carnivorous birds— red eyes, dark gray beaks, the top on the beak lumped, had rows of the sharp pointy tiny teeth, the colour of its feathers wasn’t perfect jet black like that of a crow rather they reflected dark purple as the sun shone on it. They had short sturdy tails covered in tiny feathers and at the tip bushy long feathers. They looked like something from prehistoric times—were about to have a battled so brutal to determine who would keep what little meat that was still stuck to the ribcage of the decayed beast.
Ambassadors from the two parties hopped on the carcass, their eyes set ablaze with fury when they laid sights on each other.
Two predators had come in contact and it was a must that only one, the stronger, be the only one to claim the bounty.
They spread their wings, waving their claws on the bones of the beast, readying for war.
They leaped into the air claws aimed at each other, at charge.
Clash and locked in talons, the overwhelming power from the vulture propelled the other bird back. Its opponent falling back first to the sandy floor the vulture let go landing safely and targeting its next prey, another of the other bird. The battle had ensued, to find the victor. The vultures attacked the other birds.
Quickly and without hesitation the other ambassador stood and pounced for revenge, catching the vulture off guard and landed a clean cut at the vulture just below its eye. Every party member was now matched with their counterparts.
It was obvious the monstrous birds called carnecomedor would win.
Sand was kicked into the air in wake of the brawl. The vultures battered and chomped at them and they in return tried to sink their tiny pointy teeth into the vultures.
They had placed the carcass aside… seemed rather to have forgotten about it. It wasn’t just a bout to determine the victor who would claim the reward anymore but a fight to the death. Either way, when it was over the victor would not only have the meat on the carcass, but the spoils of their battle as well—the flesh of the fallen.
Feathers flew about, carried by the breeze as the brawl raged on.
Keh… Keh. Splat-splatter… chiiiii. That was the sound of meat being ripped, blood splattered and being boiled dry by the hot desert sand.
Thud. A monster’s body falls to the sand.
Plat. A boot punches into the dirt. Another joined in and walked.
The figure in all black moved by, scaring the birds as he walked pass. Those unable to fly due to the blood bath dashed to give way and the others going off on a short flight before returning to the carcass and now setting their sights to a new food source for the time being.
Thanks to whoever it was they had enough to share—that is if they were willing to.
He looks like he’s human… very human at best. Correction, he is human (!?), in the very least.
To think a human would survive in this condition? Well, was he really human?
Conclusion:
He wasn’t your average human.
The black trench jacket on his back loosely swayed with the dry desert winds as they pressed on towards their unknown destination.
The 170cm tall Sixteen year old was thin and had slightly toned muscles. He’s been living on these barren lands long since he could remember.
His night black undercut hair absorbed the light from the sun and harshly swayed to the fierce desert winds. Even though the strands waved roughly and impaired his sight it didn’t bother him.
His half closed light blue eyes were void of any life and any emotion. He had a ‘cold’ to his already blank expression. The course of time had eroded his expressions, sense of emotions and belong.
This mysterious boy who had been walking under this intense heat showed not a single sign that he was weary, maybe that would be thanks to his jacket—No! Such a thing should bring nothing but more heat considering it was leather. It was light, flexible and strong, but maybe with the open flaps breeze would flow in and cool him.
He had no bag or purse which would give the impression of him carrying rations to survive. Not even his jacket looked like it carried anything of that sort. So how could he have survived? What did he eat? What did he drink to quench his thirst? Any person would be dead considering the variables presented.
Even from the looks of it, since there was no such thing as a structure in sight, apart from the row of large decrepit satellite dishes half buried in the sand, it would seem he had been walking longer than what he appeared to have, but not even a single drop of sweat was on his face.
No food, no water on his person and not to mention he was walking under that harsh, intense heat from the sun! Who or what is this boy? No ordinary human should be able to survive this long on this and any desert without sustenance. So how could he?
He may have been walking slowly but he was making quick pace.
Where might he be going if the world is in ruins? Is he the only survivor on this planet…? Or would it be safe to assume there are others that did survive too? Come to think of it, looking at him he doesn’t look like one; a survivor.
The overall description of one that should be called a survivor in such a situation: would be one who’s cloth and boots are worn out and in tatters, had a head covering to block the sun but still walks like he was drunk from all the heat from the sun and the sand; but he looked like one in perfect health except for the fact that he was slightly pale. And he walked all poised and firm like one who didn’t care for anything in the slightest, but also not in a way which would mean he was carefree. It was stern, yet subtle. Simply put, he was bold and confident.
Caution:
This new earth was a treacherous place, filled with monsters and uncertainty. Be careful not to be misled, mirages, illusions and others lest you lose your life.
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How long has it been? Hundred and fifty. Hundred and sixty. Hundred and eighty. Ninety? No…! it’s been long. Too long. Two hundred years and over has passed since that day. At least I think that’s how long it’s been. The sense of time was lost to me long ago. It’s been so long I’ve lost the actual count of days. The event: an unforeseen cataclysm which wiped out all of life leaving but a fraction… So they say, but I know the truth, even though I’m uncertain of how or why it really happened. Three months wandering on this ocean of sand, searching. I’m searching for something I did not know. Rather someone. It’s clear that I have no sense of direction and I may have been walking in circles all this while… but deep down I feel something drawing me in. Where I’m being called to, I have no clue. Not like something like this has ever happened to me before. Should this be possible, even in my current state? How I survived this long on a wasteland of a planet is still a mystery to me no
The sun was still setting in the western sky. It took me a couple of hours to walk over quite the distance—what would have probably taken an average person half a full day’s walk. Not that I was in haste but I needed to. Entrance: Something about this place is familiarly unsettling… As I walk underneath the sleeping building, a breeze spins around me when its thick shadow begins to mask over me. It’s like I just entered into another world. The buildings are tall and run-down. The tallest, way back, being the one at the end of the town with twenty eight floors and the smallest, ten floors. A trading post? Clip, clop… Thump… Kriii… clank. The sounds of boots and hard-on soles walking on the makeshift stone street; hammer pounding on anvil and the squeaks of moving carts made the desert town alive. The street isn’t too wide but enough for some stalls to be set up and still have way for a crowd. Yes. There are shops and stalls here and there: weapon smith, fruit stand, cloth shop
A step over the threshold and inside the Inn the first to greet my sight was the girl standing behind the counter: immediately everything comes to a standstill. I can feel the intense glares of the angry and concerned customers and that of the sad looking little girl’s. “What’s with the kid?” “Is he one of them?” “Even more mess.” “One more problem having a go at it.” “Is the half-pint also here for the same thing?” I hear their whispers. What are they talking about? The room is large. It had boards for floor, round and square tables that could house a maximum of four customers and barrels that sat to the walls. Beside the counter there was a small dual door suspended to the sides of the doorframe. Magic stone lanterns hung on the walls and one on the first of the three pillars that held the room up. The ineluctable stench of booze is enough to intoxicate anyone that walked in. A young half elf-orcette, a tiger eared and tail demihuman girl, a fox, and a cat demihumans and two
Ruins: A group of broken buildings which provided shelter to its inhabitants. It very well hid people from the harsh desert sun. Thanks to the height of the buildings that towered the little town there had been an almost everlasting shadow which also cooled the hot desert winds. It was also a place where lowlife thugs go to find second chance or hide from bounty hunters—for how long though? The remaining human population on the planet, now less than a fraction compared to what existed also found ways to thrive in desert havens like this, but no matter where they went they were belittled, bullied and sometimes eaten by predators, a prejudice stemmed from before this era. From memory, I remember the world was filled with lots of people. I remember watching it from the box which showed moving people. They lived in all sorts of places, some so beautiful and others a ways different than the situation this new world is in. Down below a human girl is being chased and it would seem by a
My sight slowly shifts attention back into the street, to the passersby. I wonder. What does it mean to live? Is what I’m doing also termed as living? Am I even really what you call being alive? This world doesn’t have that much to offer but people make due of what they have, but I only go where the wind carries. I wonder. Do I have a purpose? What would have become of me? What would I have done to truly live? Even now I wonder, do I have a true purpose aside from my current goals? What would become of me if I did complete my goal? Would I fade into the nothingness……? ○●○ It didn’t take long for her to return with a plate of mashed grub; corn and bits of roaches sprinkled on it—something which is eaten almost anywhere—a piece of bread to the side, a piece of meat—from a monster—and a mug of ale. If it were back in the past nearly every person would be disgusted with the bits of roaches. The food just looks squishy and had a nice smell to it but the smell from the roaches w
It was a joyous day. A Party… As the DJ in one corner of the room rocked the joint with a blend of Techno and rock the young hunter welcomed his guests. “Welcome… welcome everyone” “Nice to see you” said one guest. “Yoo, s’up dude? Been’a’while” said another. He welcomed the guests who joined him in his quaint home with the biggest smile he could muster. “What you been up to bro?” “The usual I guess.” “Seeing everyone back here is so awesome” “Totally. It’s been like forever since we did something like this.” “Welcome guys.” “Missed you like bunch.” “Likewise.” They were happy for they were oblivious of everything that happened to him. People congratulated him as he thread through the crowd out onto the porch outside. He leaned his elbow to the wooden rail taking in the fresh air. He was content with what he saw. Everything was back to normal. Everyone and everything was back to the way they were. The Hunter was finally home, his real home, in 2017. A gentle breeze fl
Rays of daylight slowly creeps into the inn. It took two hours for the sun to rise and an hour for my 'sleep' after I went back into my room… Immediately the sun started to rise my eyes were open. Allora is before me, still in her human form. She has her head down facing the floor, bowing as low as her upper body could. "… T-Thank you…! I, I am really sorry to have bothered you. You just came in and I put my burden on you. I'm sorry for that." I came down earlier to return my plate and mug from the night before. I didn't think I'd meet anyone since I wasn't sure the time they opened, but when I got into the inn Allora and the other waitresses were up and busy preparing for the day, Allora wiping down the tables. At the sound of my steps close by she turned and assumed this pose, thanking me although she's somewhat nervous. She had woken up and rushed down to come finish the chores she wasn't able to complete last night but when she got there everything had already been taken car
Night couldn't have come any quicker! And so far… nothing! The little girl left a couple of hours after following me when a few merchants and civilians shooed her away. I returned to the inn that evening to find the one who called himself Pyson Taro sitting at the counter where he was yesterday with a mug of ale in his hand. "Over here kid." The inn isn't as busy as yesterday but it's got a good haul. "..." Walk over to the counter. I need something in my belly, now! "Have a drink with me." What does he want now? Was his warning supposed to put fear in me or something, to give enough an incentive for me to leave? "Sit!" his expression suddenly takes a turn and he whispered sternly. What should I do? Ignore and just head up stairs… after I get some food. Or listen to what he has to say…? … Might as well hear what he has to say if I'm going to wait to get something to eat. Take the stool beside him. "Barkeep, another over here!" "Coming right up!" Allora responds and disapp