Apres la Terre

[Coffinstuffer]

OOC: No out-of-character discussion is to be made in this thread; you can find the character profiles/discussion thread HERE

'Mr. Hastings, say us when bombs hit again, please.'

James crossed his arms tight against his sides for warmth and took another sip of the local brew. 'Shoumensko Rakia', they called it; supposedly a light honey-brandy of some kind.. it was far too sweet for his liking, but it stuck to your insides and the Bulgarians at least had the decency to serve it to him hot, like a proper cup of English ale. He set the cup aside, cleared his throat and tucked his bony, calloused hands into the folds of the sweater he was wearing. Even now, the stupid woolen thing was unbearably itchy to wear - but it kept him warm, so it wasn't his place to complain.

'Tell us, you mean.'

Undaunted, they corrected themselves and tried again. They must have heard this story a thousand times.

'Mr. Hastings, tell us when bombs hit again, please'

He smiled wryly at the half-dozen children sitting at the fire opposite him. He had been teaching them English with the help of a bilingual Serbian guitarist for a number of months now. To their credit, they were determined, ambitious pupils studying a difficult subject under an unprofessional - They were learning quickly, and he was proud.

He began, motioning for the Serb to strum along - a slow, sad and traditional tune on his balalaika - the closest eastern-european equivelant to the guitar. He almost felt an accordian wash should accompany the piece, but such as things were, it couldn't be helped.

'The skyline was beautiful on fire; all twisted metal stretching upwards, everything washed in a pale orange haze.

The streets were filled with the sounds of wounded steel; lurching and wrenching, the buildings tumbled in on themselves in agony.

The sewers were swamped with mud and tar, bubbling and cooking off of the pavement, oozing and smouldering downhill - and in the sky hung a most brilliant light, so blindingly, scaldinglybright that it seared your skin and eyes and you could not bear to be beneath it.

Airplanes fell from the clouds and crashed helpless to the countryside, and all the music and cars stopped at once.'

He paused for effect. He'd have been genuinely surprised if they understood even a third of the words he had just used, but as always, they seemed to enjoy just hearing him speak so fluently and impassioned. The music and hand gestures probably added to it as well.

'My legs became weak with the shaking of the earth, and there I fell, right there in the street, onto something soft and moving.

The road was flowing like a river - with rats. Up from the gutters and out into the sunlight. I fell into them and they rushed over me like a waterfall, chittering and shrieking as they fled the burning sky.

And then they were gone, and I was left alone.

I squinted up through my fingers into the burning light that still consumed the sky, and out onto the horizon, where several titanic columns of smoke unfolded like gigantic flowers in deadly bloom.

And finally, a terrible shattering swept the landscape out... and left me in darkness.'

The children stared at him in mortified silence, and he snorted to stop from laughing at their expense. In truth, if he had been close enough to witness such events as the ones he just described, he'd have been cooked from the inside by radiation long ago - but kids are kids, and all kids love a good horror story before bed.

'Gotta get my kicks somewhere...' he remarked quietly to the Serb as he ushered them back to their parents.

He returned to the fireside and fixed himself another warm cup of shoumensko. A shadow, cast against the wall of a corrugated shanty hut, flickered past him.

He tensed for a moment, eyes scanning the darkness, and reached blindly for his musketoon.

[stalkingwolf321]

Andrei walked slowly through the camp, head down, lost in thought, remembering the fateful day his family was killed. but now he was alone, except the commune on the mountain. that's all he had now, that and what little possessions he had on him. he was sharing a hut with a middle age man that he didn't trust at all, in fact he really didnt trust anyone.

children came running out of a hut laughing and murmuring to each other. Mr Hastings must have been telling them his story again. it was a wonderful story, full of horrific detail, but still unbelievable. Andrei liked Mr Hastings.

Andrei heard someone call his name down the lane and turned left to go see who it was and why they were calling him.

[zyphan]

Kesh had been alone for a long time, wandering from place to place, trying to scratch out a living in the harsh world that had become her home. Her steel treasures jingled as she moved, giving off an eerie but calm sound like small bells.

It had been some time since she had last made a kill, and now her rations of dried rabbit were getting low, as was her water supply. Kesh had wandered into unknown territory on a whim, wondering if perhaps she could find something new out here, like an untainted water hole or anything that would help her survive. She was now scrambling through scree, which proceeded to come loose under her combat boots, sending her slipping and sliding with every step she took.

Coming around a bend and finally finding solid ground atop the hill she had managed to scale, Kesh stopped to catch her breath. It was hard work, trying not to lose her footing amid the scree. Standing up again and leaning on her make-shift steel spear, Kesh spotted something down low in a shallow impression in the ground, and upon closer inspection realized it was a community of ramshackle buildings, with people milling about.

Although the site of houses and living space would normally have made anyone alone like Kesh giddy with the thought of no more loneliness, the young woman just stared at first, not sure what she should do. It had been a long time since she had seen anyone. The last time she had seen someone was when she met a man by the name of Andrei. They hadn't spent a lot of time around each other, but it was enough to remember him. Kesh crept closer to the community, keeping out of site of any sentries that may have been posted, and watching the people in the streets. She had run into a community not too long ago that was hostile to outsiders, and she had almost been killed. Thankfully, this group seemed harmless enough, and, carefully, the young woman slowly and skillfully made her way down the hillside.

Kesh was still keeping watch on the people milling about in the streets below, when a young man clad all in black stepped into her view. Instantly, she recognized him as Andrei, and though she hated to rush into places like this without scoping it out first, she was glad to see a familiar face again. Normally, those she met disappeared or she found them dead a few days after their departure from her presence.

Kesh broke into a jog and ran towards Andrei's dark retreating form, waving and trying not to trip over her heavy boots. "Andrei! Hey, Andrei!"

[Gromathar]

Bela took an arrow from the quiver-one with a stone arrowhead, don't want to potentially lose a machined one on a relatively meatless rabbit-and readied his bow. He rose from his position on the rise overlooking a valley, waiting for it to come closer.

When it was within 30 feet, he released the drawstring just as it snapped. He'll have to replace that after.
"Sh**," he muttered as the arrow flew wide, the hare bounding away, "There goes some new boots. "

Shouldering the bow, he retrieved the arrow as he headed in the direction of Ven Remeny, wondering if it was a mistake to come here. There was little vegetation here, just some grass, shrubs, and a pair of dead trees a few miles back. The rumours of the Byelorusan army coming in meant that this commune would probably be a pile of charred ashes in a month anyway, there's no way this town of a hundred people could be defended. Evacuation wouldn't be an option-most of these people can barely survive as is. Apparently Egypt wasn't as bad off as Europe was-sure, there was still fallout deposited in the area, but nowhere near as much as the northern latitudes received. No way to get there though.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bela saw a flicker of brown. A scrawny, almost hairless deer about 75 feet away. Not much a catch, but better than the rabbit. Quickly, he pulled out his atlatl and spear, waiting for the deer to move. It was searching for vegetation when it noticed his movement. With all his strength, he hurled the spear towards the deer, piercing it's chest. Staggering a few feet, it collapsed in a heap. Pulling out his KABAR, Bela slit it's throat, removed the spear, then hung the corpse over it's shoulder, resuming his trek.

"Looks like I'll have those new boots."

[thegiantmoa]

Acton rolled over in his bed, The children we're keeping him up. He hated children, always had. Acton though of them as too simple minded to be any use to him, or society. Even as a child, Acton preferred the company of adults over that of other children. He had always thought himself to be some sort of superior form of child when he was young, sort of an adult trapped in a child's body.

Acton's train of thought was broken when he heard about a dozen children shriek and start to giggle. "That f**king Hastings is telling them stories again," he thought to himself. "I swear, one of these days I'm going to leave because of him and his little stories."

Acton decided that sleeping was useless at this point and rose from underneath his bear pelt. Stretching, he put on his tattered leather jacket and walked towards the fire.

[Coffinstuffer]

Heavy, booted footfalls resounded through the night, breaking the treeline and making towards the camp.

'Hello?'

There was no answer.

James' veins coursed with animalistic dread. This wasn't just his imagination, someone had actually penetrated the camp's perimiter. Where were the sentries!? He scrambled on all fours through the dirt and ash towards his musketoon, clutching it like a drowning man would grip a rescue ladder. In the flickering glow of the fire, he snapped back the weapon's flintlock with his thumb. The familliar, metallic 'clack' cooled his nerves and restored his confidence.

Another swig of Bulgarian brandy helped as well.

'Is someone there?' He called after gathering his composure.

Wild-eyed, James cupped an ear with one hand, trying to scry the darkness for further sounds of intrusion. After a moment of some heated inner deliberation, he opted to leave the safety of the fire, musket first, inching into the darkness at a low crouch.

A stirring from the rear drew his attention - in a heartbeat, James pivotted and trained his musket on the figure there - he hesitated for a moment, finger wrapped around the trigger, before recognizing the man as Acton, the Manxman. He didn't look happy, but it could probably wait.

There were others he'd rather have seen, but such as it was, he breathed a sigh of relief and motioned for Acton to follow him as he rounded the corner, aiming the muzzle of his weapon down the lane at a pair of forms in the dark.

'Who's there!? Identify yourselves!'

[zyphan]

Kesh spun around mid stride, and tripped over her boots, landing face-first in the dirt. The shout had startled her, and as she fell, she saw a man holding a musket in her direction. Apparently this place wasn't as welcome as she had first thought.

The young woman stammered as she got up, gingerly standing on her left foot- her right was sore, maybe sprained from her fall. "I-I'm Steel, I-I don't mean any harm, I just- um..." Kesh didn't know what to stay. She was trapped, and the bullet from that musket would fly far faster than she could run, even if she hadn't hurt her leg. Apparently it was a mistake to come down the hill, even if she did recognize Andrei, and now Kesh was trapped with nowhere to go in a place she shouldn't have come to.

Her face was beginning to throb, and as the young woman brushed her fingers over her cheek, she realized she was bleeding, her fingers coming away bloody. This is the last thing I need in a place like this! She thought, staring through the dark at the advancing musket.

[stalkingwolf321]

Andrei saw that the person calling his name was steel, the girl he had met no more than 9 months ago. and now she was here. he walked toward her at a brisk pace, but then she fell. and now she was stamering trying to explain her presence.

Andrei walked into the light and raised his hands and said "its ok Hastings, this is steel, she is with me. just put the gun down. she mean noone any harm."

he then turned to her and said "faincy seeing you here, its been a while, you must be hungry, come on you can stay in my hut, i got some food there for you." and walked off towards his hut slowly allowing her to catch her thought and follow.

[brandoncrisp]

Brandon sat in a tree a on the outskirts of the camp staring off at what was left of the world. His body was numb from the cold, his callused clasped around his harmonica. His eyes scanned across the land before staring down at his harmonica. He looked it over before smiling and bringing it to his mouth. He began to play Joyful Girl, the gentle light sounds of his harmonica seemed to warm he up. He looked down at the children below him that were gazing up at him in interest. He chuckled and smiled at the children in a sinister way, almost as if he had some sick plan involving them.

‘You kiddies like my playing eh?’

He brought the harmonica up to his mouth and started to play Ode to Joy. The faces of the children lit up with joy as he played. A couple of other children walked over and began to listen as well. Still playing Brandon glanced around the camp to see if anyone else was watching him, he noticed a man glaring at him from the door of a hut. The man’s face sent shivers down his spine, he had a long mulberry coloured scar running from his right eyebrow to his lower left cheek.

[abattoirs]

Day 2918. 9. 2920?.

Whatever day it was, Belladonna was beginning to lose count. As far as she could guess by the changing of the seasons, it had been near eight years since this horrible ordeal had all begun - which, of course, meant it had taken her nearly three to make it from the Alps to what she hoped was a friendly commune in what the Swedes said was once Bulgaria. She could believe it - it was cold in the Balkans, and her glove-less fingers were shaking as they did their best to grasp the sharpened bit of charcoal to maintain her tiny script. Deep in thought, she bit at her lip, wincing as her teeth ground into the chapped skin, opening old wounds until she tasted iron. Shaking her head, she bent again to write.

I believe I have finally made it to the next camp. I sit now just below the crest of a hill, peeking over it and watching the goings on below. They are well-guarded, sentries posted at what I expect must be the entrances. I have considered shooting my way in, and have since decided against it - my fingers are near too frozen to grip a writing implement, I don't trust myself with a bow, and as Father used to say, you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. Though, the question still stands - who in yellow hell has ever tried to catch flies, and why? - No matter. Say on topic, Bella. Right-o. Maybe I can charm the sentries into letting me in. I have lost enough weight throughout my journey that Father's coat drapes over me like a tent, and my ribs are both visible and tangible through my shirt. I've not much to offer a man anymore, physically - but maybe, just maybe, Mother's wit will shine through and get me out of this.

She ended the entry and put her journal in her knapsack, wrapping the charcoal in a bit of stray cloth to protect it from the snow. With a deep breath (and a hand to her chest, painfully tight with the cold), she rose from her hiding spot, bow shouldered in a clear "white flag" sort of response, and began to make her way over the crest of the hill, sentries now in sight. She held her hands up in surrender, keeping her head level and eyes on the guards who were no doubt watching her - that is, until, the edge of her boot clipped a rock covered in frost, sending her arse over teakettle down the hill. She rolled until she hit flat land, moaning and well bruised from her trip, so to speak.

Nice one, Bella. You make it nearly 8 years without serious injury, and here you are, undone by a bloody snowdrift. Mum and Da would be proud.

She lay there for moment, staring up at the cold, black sky, hoping someone might see her. Judging from the pain in her noggin, she'd sustained a serious bump and a few cuts to her face, as well as - oh, no. A sharp crack sounded beneath her as she tried to shift, and she went still in dismay. Her bow had been damaged on the way down. Hopefully it was nothing that couldn't be fixed with a fire and some ingenuity, but now it was more than imperative that she make her way into the camp. After a few moments she struggled to her feet, tugging her gas mask off and pulling her spectacles into place, looking down and doing her best to survey the carnage. Not too bad - a clean crack down the heart of the bow, length-wise, easy enough to fix. With a sigh of relief, she limped over to where the sentries stood, squaring her shoulders and tossing her hair back as she spoke.

"Hello, I'm Belladonna... I don't... suppose you gentlemen..."

Perhaps she had bumped her head harder than she thought.The world went brown and hazy about the edges like a series of classic vignettes, and her legs crumpled beneath her as the blackness enveloped her.

[Coffinstuffer]

James hesitantly removed his finger from the trigger guard as the pair in the dark departed.

'Well, if she's alright with Andrei,' he muttered to no one in particular, 'Then I guess she probably isn't a threat of any grave measure.'

After slowly returning the flintlock hammer to the 'safe' position and decocking the trigger, James swung his musketoon up and across his shoulders, letting it rest on the back of his neck. He turned to address Acton at last, preparing himself for an earful.

'Sorry about the misunderstanding there, chum - now what was it that you're looking all cross about?'

Before Acton could answer, a pair of young sentries - an emaciated and unconscious woman dragged between them - came clamouring towards him, yelling for help in some Slavic dialect.

Grimacing at he way they were manhandling the lass, he tried to calm them, speaking soothingly and slowly.

'Boys, boys - sorry, Acton, looks like it's going to have to wait again - Boys, please, c a l m d o w n. Quit dragging her feet like that, that's hardly any way to treat a lady...'

He broke off, realizing they were still gibbering over him in Hungarian or Polish or something,

'What we've got here,' he mused to himself, 'is a failure... to communicate.'

He motioned for them to drop her off in the expedient 'hospital' tent. He'd have to deal with her later.

[Gromathar]

Trudging through the snow, Bela saw a grouping of shacks surrounded by a palisade mainly composed of wood, tables and corrugated steel. Walking on the main path, he hoped that there was still enough light that he could be identified as a solitary hunter with a deer hung over his shoulder, and not a raider scout. If it was too dark....well, if the town was desperate enough, he would probably feed a family for a day or two.

Getting to the main gate, thankfully without ventilated lungs, he saw a commotion in the camp. A woman was being dragged by two men yelling at each other.
"Szervsuz! Hogy vagy?" he called out, hoping they spoke Hungarian.
"What? Oh, not much. Just that this stinking whore came out of the snow with a bow, fell down a hill, smashed her head, then passed out in front of us, so of course we had to deal with her. Then that English bastard who doesn't have the decency to try and learn at least ONE other language even though he's been here for......sh**, I don't know how many months, comes up to us and starts to talk to us like we're bloody Pollacks. He didn't even bother finding a translator. Other than that, great. Even better once I give Hastings a noodle. Too bloody cold to be on sentry duty at this time." replied the first guard after taking a swig from a flask, passing it to his partner.
"Well, what are you going to do with her?"
"Ehh, probably throw her into a cell then interrogate her later-you can never trust the females. Bandits always use them to scout out communes, since most guards haven't gotten any in months."
Looking her over, Bela saw that she was almost as scrawny as the deer on his back. Not so clean, clothing wasn't too provocative.
"No, she hasn't been groomed to perfection. Raiders tend to keep them well fed and armed less-she has a bow which is too obvious. I recommend you give her medical attention. Now, do you know where I can find a merchant?"
"No sir, you'll have to talk to someone else-try that Hastings bastard. First you'll need to be processed by my friend here-good day."

[Coffinstuffer]

James watched the exchange between the sentries and the bearded newcomer in abject awe. This was the first and only time he had seen those guards speak in a pleasant tone in all retrievable memory. Ever since he'd tried to make the connection 'ME ENGLISH. ANGLIO. IN WORLD WAR TWO WE HELPED YOU POLISH BASTARDS. POLSKI? YEAH YOU, POLSKI, YOU'D HAVE BEEN ON STALIN AND HITLER'S DINNER PLATES IF IT WEREN'T FOR CHURCHILL'... well, they'd been nothing but sour towards; always leering, sizing him up, following him back to his shack.. the gall of some people. So ungrateful.

Towards the end of their ongoing discussion, he saw them motion rudely towards him - to which he waved and smiled warmly before addressing the bearded man with the deer.

'Hullo there, china' he began, extending a hand in greeting, 'Couldn't help but notice that you're able to communicate with these brusque Pollack ...peasant types. Do you happen to speak English? Maybe you could be my interpreter for a moment.'

He paused momentarily, shifting the musket from his shoulder to a more relaxed position across his chest, cradled and crossed between his arms before going on.

'The guards seem to like you - and they don't much like anyone, least of all me - so I'll take that as an endorsement of some distinction. Think you could get them to take a little better care of that pretty bird?'

He gestured with his head towards the woman.

'I think it might be prudent to see what she knows, where she's from, and maybe if there are any ulterior motives behind her little visit here.'

The Englishman smiled and waited, wishing for a moment that he hadn't decocked his musket - in the event that the guards had misread the man, well.. they might get him, but probably not before he had dealt with the most immediate armed threat - namely him.

Somewhere in the distance, he thought he heard a harmonica blow softly.

[zyphan]

Kesh was glad when Andrei told the guy to back down, she didn't want to get shot, especially when her face was already bloody. Catching up to the man in black, she limped by his side as they went to his hut, regretting dashing into the camp, but glad he recognized her.

"Hey, um, thanks, for telling him not to shoot me. I didn't see any sentries posted, so I thought it would be okay... I guess I should've been more careful." A commotion behind them caught her attention, and she turned back to see a few more people arrive, gesturing wildly and talking loudly. "Is this place normally this loud? Seems like there's a lot of people out..."

[Gromathar]

Bela glared at who was undoubtedly Hastings if what the sentries said was true.
".....Polski? I come into this camp intending to help improve it, help the people, and this man who takes it upon himself to be in charge because he's from the GREAT United Kingdom calls my countrymen peasants? Not only peasants, but POLISH peasants? Outrageous, if we were living back in my home we would have strung you up by the balls after tearing out your intestines. But yes, I can communicate with these Hungarian men, and yes, I already told them to take better care of her. They suspected she was a raider spy, but as I pointed out to them, she's too suspicious looking for that. They agreed to bring her to the medical centre already, the reason why they're so aggressive with her is because they're agitated. And why are they agitated? They're doing their job WITHOUT any pelts-I can see to that, with this," Bela shook the deer gently, "so they're freezing, and because you're constantly talking down to them. They don't understand your language yet, but they understand the tone of your voice. And Mr. Hastings, watch your back in this camp. If they're any indicator, with these men being moderates, you have dangerous enemies. We've gotten off on the wrong foot, but I'll work with you as long as you treat these people like human beings."

Finishing his tirade, Bela told the guards to continue with what he told them, walking behind them with Mr. Hastings. The processing was simply looking through his bag and a pat down, not as thorough or time-consuming as it is with other communes. That'll need to be addressed.