Realistic or Modern Life Drags On [Post-Apoc]

[SirDerpingtonIV]

Ash, smoke, and ruin. That was all that remained of Arden. Gheron, Elise, Argyle, Mars, and Tomi stood atop one of the hills to the East of town, looking down at their burnt out husk of a home. The place had been built out of scrap metal and emberwood, so it was no surprise that fire had ravaged it. It was a collection of over a dozen low, single-story buildings focused around the town's warehouse and the husk of an Old World temple. The locals maintained it, although they weren't a devout sort. It was more to keep some trace of the Old World, although a few of them prayed in its halls occasionally. It didn't mean too much though, they weren't sure exactly what the name of the deity the place was devoted to. Arden had been simple, undefended.

They'd been able to see the smoke for the past three hours, and had smelt it for the past thirty minutes as they approached town. Now, as they stood only about fifty feet away from the closest ruin of a building, they could smell the horrid stench of charred flesh. The small settlement of Arden was no more, and one could tell even from here, that there were no survivors. Corpses could be seen gathered around the doors of the warehouse, and judging by the unholy scent coming from within, more were inside. At least the town hadn't been so surprised they couldn't all gather in the warehouse for safety, as was the plan were the settlement ever raided.

Perhaps it was raiders, judging by the fact that the place had been burned. The old warehouse in the center of town where the survivors stored their food, ammunition, and the other necessities seemed to be only half standing, the Eastern wall having tumbled inward, and the whole of the ceiling gone. The farmhouses farther out from the center of town seemed unaffected, which meant whoever attacked was targeting people directly, who'd be hiding in the warehouse.

Any idea of this being a raider attack left the minds of the survivors as they approached the first carcass. The body was burnt, but large chunks of flesh had been torn from it, and the marks of sharp teeth were visible in the blackened flesh. This had been the work of mutants. Not just any mutants either, the smart kind that had been growing all too common as of late. Creatures big and small, creating their own twisted versions of our settlements, wielding primitive weaponry but coming in large numbers, and having enough brains to use a bit of tactics. They weren't all so dangerous though, some of them had enough brains to even be friendly. There were many kinds of mutant, and a few kinds of the smart ones, but the mountain-born Cragsmen, the ones that looks almost like us, but hunch-backed, with sharp ears and sharp faces, their needly teeth gleaming with blood, they were dangerous. Weak, but cunning, cunning enough to pick up weapons, but not make them. Least not yet. They had the folks in the shadow of the mountains quite afraid, as the threat slowly descended from the peaks. Now it seems, they've come as far as Arden looking for a meal.

 

[HighSanguinaryPriest]

Anger, Sorrow, Confusion, Failure; All these emotions boiled in the tumultuous soul that was Rusty. The young soldier shook as he tried to process the scene before him and the others. Indecision swirled in the mans mind for but a moment, before his training kicked in and a new emotion overtook him. Righteous Fury, burned within him, as he produced his blade. "Stay put. There could be more around. I'm going to check for survivors." He bit out, his tone saying that it wasn't up for debate.

Soaking his balaclava with the water from his canteen, Rusty quickly donned the garment covering his face to act as a filter for the smoke. Without another word, he carefully made his way into the town turned necropolis/funeral pyre. Stepping inside the warehouse, he could see the desiccated and mutilated remains of the people he once knew. Tears streamed down into his mask, but whether it have been from the loss, or the smoke was anyone's guess. Carefully, he crept, his senses on high alert for anyone or anything alive. As far as he could see though in the smoke filled warehouse, were corpses and what little remained of their stockpile. The more objective part of his mind making note to salvage anything that could be of use for their survival, already knowing that his home and family were gone.