Fantasy Remains of an Age

[Laeta]

I am a ghost, and you're an angel. We're one in the same. Both remains of an age.

Something happened. The world used to be beautiful, food was plentiful and the air used to taste as sweet as honey. No longer does it happen that way. Now people barely make it, most are forced to survive on their own.

They managed to clump into towns. The towns were usually poor and dysfunctional, but they manages. More people lived than died in the towns. Even so, death was something that always hung over every man, woman and child. After it happened, no one was safe.

Even when they knew if the dangers, a few stragglers still wandered the desert. The desert was probably the most dangerous place to be. No water for miles and nothing to eat, unless sand was part of your daily diet. The heat got to everyone.

What most people didn't know was that there was a way to end all the suffering. According to a prophecy, told by the man in black, there needed to be a sacrifice. A specific sacrifice. No one knew who this sacrifice was, but there was a never-ending search for them​

 

[Laeta]

The desert seemed to expand on for forever. The horizon held nothing except sand. It could have been a beautiful sight, but the beauty held nothing but death. No water for miles, food was just as scarce as water was. Any traveler with any sense would be sure to ration both. Granted, any traveler with any sense would not be walking this over sized graveyard.


Dana was the senseless traveler walking on top of the sandy death. Her thighs burned from walking, she didn't know if she was going in the right direction, but she continued on. A pink tongue poked from between her dry lips and wet them. No water could be used to wet then just yet, at the moment saliva would have to do.


She had gotten more food from a corpse. It was a man, well built with a homely face. He died from a stab to the heart. The body was still fresh when she found it, every coin and jewel that he had ever stole our of a man's pocket or a women's finger was still on him. That made sense to her. What is valuable changes when you have been dragging yourself across the desert for awhile. What confused her was that they left his water and food. It pleases her since that meant she had more supplies, but at the same time it made her alert.


There was someone else in the desert and they were close. Either they were idiots who didn't know the first thing about survival, or they were master minds that already had her pinned. She was betting on the latter. It made her fingers twitch for her weapons. There was still a chance to get out of his hold, his grip was probably unrelenting. His strategy, immaculate. He had to be swift if he was able to kill a man without attracting her attention.


It was believed that he had purposely left those supplies for her. Almost as if he was trying to send her a message. She was curious about what the message was. That was yet another thing that pushed her onwards. That and that turning back would mean certain death and she had many things to do before death pulled her to his peaceful home.


The sun was getting low in the sky, she was walking away from it, so it was not in her eyes. She would have to stop soon, due to the impending darkness. She wiped the sweat that had accumulated on her brow and lifted her stetson off her head. With a bit of grass she could set up a camp here.


The rest was greatly needed. She took out her water skin and brought it to her lips. The cool water felt nice against the desert in her throat. The grass was easy enough to find, she could now make a fire through muscle memory alone. The fire was lit just as the last few rays of sunshine disappeared under the horizon, the darkness beckoned for the moon and stars to join it now that the sun's burning gaze was gone.

 

[BauxiteMechanism]

In the vast expanse of the desert, laid a pile of silty dirt in between two desiccated shrubs. To the average observer, it was just an average pile of dirt. After all, it was the desert. The whole bloody thing is either cracked, dry soil, or dunes of sand. In this case, the average observer would be right! It was just a pile of dirt. But in the stillness of the evening, something began to shudder. The trees? No, there were no trees, only dead scrubby bushes and the occasional cactus. The wind? No, not that either, the air was still. No, It was the unassuming pile of dirt. Now, dirt isn't supposed to move on it's own, unless there's an earthquake or a particularly nasty sand worm.


"But I'm no sandworm."


At least that's what Aqualung was hoping he had said. The sand caked his mouth and he sounded like a muffled barkbiter trying to roar beneath the sands. Aqualung didn't quite like the heat of the desert, so at the apex of the day, he would bury himself beneath the sands to conserve water. But as soon as dusk touched the land, he left his lair to begin his daily prowl. With a mighty heft, he forced himself from his subterranean hiding place. He ran the back of his hand across his cracked lips and his eyes, clearing the caked sand from them both, and with a quick snort, he forced the rest of the sand from his nostrils. In his early days of his exile to the desert, he has used his prehensile tongue to wipe away the muck of the desert. After several cases of drymouth and tongue lacerations, he has learned not to do so since. Invigorated by a full day's rest, he leapt up to his feet and looked to the darkened horizon. A thin trail of smoke could be seen wafting over a dune in the distance. Someone fool lit an open fire in the desert.


And so he began to run. Dune over dune, hill over hill. The coarse sand shifted beneath his bare feet, and the occasional jagged stone tried to pierce his calloused soles to no effect. As the smell of burning foliage grew strong and the thing trail of smoke appeared to be dead ahead, Aqualung slowed his pace down to a slow creep. He slunk down to all fours and began to crawl forward, either doing his best snake impression, or sincerely wishing not to be seen. He crawled over the next dune, and lo and behold, it was another bloke in the desert.


As he scoped the figure out from his secluded hiding place, he began going down his great list of "is this a trap or not?". It appeared to be female, though he wasn't sure -- he hadn't seen a woman in a very long time, see? Well, not a human woman at least. Humans all looked the same to him. She seemed to be armed, as she was carrying a holster, and what might be a sheath. The biggest issue however, was that she was alone next to a campfire. No sane human being does that unless they either think they're strong enough to fend of an ambush, or have a serious deathwish. Aqualung decided he was going to ask her himself. With that brilliant idea in his head, he slunk around the outskirts of the ramshackle camp, until he was out of her field of view, and began his approach. When he was finally close enough, he stood up and began to creep towards her...


(Sorry for the delay! I only realized about 30 minutes ago that you had posted.)

 

[Laeta]

The fire was heat, and that was nice against the cool air of the dessert. Many people believed that it was the heat that killed you within a dessert. They were wrong, it was usually the lack of water and the cold. It got cold as hell in the dessert. Hell, it was probably the closest thing to hell that someone could find in this world. Then again this world had become hell.


The smell of cooking meat shafted across her small camp site. It had been cured so that it would last longer, but the it was quite salty now, the salt made get want water, but the water had to be saved. This was a dilemma that was faced by everyone out on this vast expanse. To starve or to dehydrate? That is the question. Whether 'tis easier to suffer the pains of hunger of the pains of the lack of water.


It didn't matter right now, she had enough water for at least two more weeks. However it was unknown how long it would be before another load of supplies was cast out to her. Perhaps it was bait, when she snapped it up she was simply getting hooked on his line. He was fishing in a desert. She had to give him props for that.


The sand moved in the corner of her eye. It wasn't wind, nor was it the Earth trembling. It was a creature. A creature that was approaching her. Her hands flew to her gun and in milliseconds she had aimed and fired. She didn't aim to kill this time, just to warn. The bullet would barely graze theto creature, letting it know that the next would end up between it's eyes. One was enough to get it to leave, if it didn't then it wouldn't be to hard to kill.


Upon closer inspection she saw that the creature seemed to be a humanoid. That shortened the list of possibilities by quite a bit. She had never seen a creature quite like it before. Whether it was male or female was hard to tell, being that the anatomy of said creatures was unknown. Even if it did resemble a human, the parts that did not could be the ones that made all the difference.


Her finger was still on the trigger, the barrel had smoke rising out of it. She kept the gun pointed at the creature as she lazily took the meat off the spit and bit into it. The juices ran down her chin as she chewed. After the swallow, a sleeve came up to wipe the chin and then she decided to speak to the creature.


"Who might you be that thinks sneaking up on me is a good idea? Why, I should fill you up with bullets right now, what say you?"

 

[BauxiteMechanism]

Aqualung saw the flash before he heard the bang, and shut his eyes as soon as the burning flash of white filled his retinas. He gritted his teeth as prepared for the end, but alas, it did not come. Instead he felt a white-hot sting in his left temple, and something cool began to run down the side of his head. Instinctively, his palm dove for the wound, perhaps to make sure that his head was still there. When he drew his hand back, he took a quick glance at it. Red, as expected. That was a relief. Would've been a bit of a shock if it had been any other color. Confirming that he was in fact still human, and more importantly, still alive, his smeared the blood onto his filthy tunic, and took a step back.


"That's not the proper way to greet a traveler, is it now?", he said with a slight snarl in his voice. "I just stopped by to ask some cursorly- cursora-" Aqualung stopped mid sentence and pinched the bridge of his nose with his clean hand, and flicked his snake-like tongue very briefly. It seemed that either the desert sands or his tongue had made it difficult for him to pronounce longer words. "-some basic questions. You know, name, age, sex. Oh yeah, and what the 'ell do you think you're doing making an open fire in this cutthroat desert?!"


Without breaking eye contact, Aqualung reached into his one-strapped rucksack, pulled out a dirty pink handkerchief, and began dabbing at the graze on the side of his head.


"That really bloody hurt, y'know. You don't have many friends, do you?" As he said this, he eyed her hand, particularly the one holding the the gun. He didn't know if she was quick to anger, and was ready to lash out if need be. He was hoping she was civil, at least as civil as him anyway.

 

[Laeta]

He bled red. It maybe a useless fact, it maybe the difference between life and death. He bled red, just like she did. What color was she expecting him to bleed? She didn't really now, but for some reasons she thought that he would bleed something other than red. He spoke too. He spoke a language that she could understand. His tongue was far from native though, it reminded her of a serphant. Those sneaky things that would wiggle up and bit you when your mind was someplace else.


"That ain't how I treat a traveler, that's how I treat a desert dwelled that decided that it was a good idea to come to my camp.". He asked a lot of questions. Too many for her liking. She wanted to put her stetson back on, it made her look more intimidating, but she would have to make due. The stetson would obscure her vision, even that brief moment was too much time, he could be on her by then. Nevertheless the gun began to lower, her pointer finger slowly lifted off of the trigger. The metal sparkles brilliantly, sending small rays of light across the sand as it moved.


"Basic questions? Even those could get you killed in these parts. You haven't gained my trust yet, serphant. I am afraid those questions will go unanswered until you do. The fire is for warmth, it gets kind of cold here if you haven't noticed already. Besides, if all the others in the desert are like you then they will have a bullet lodged in their heads before they could get close enough to do any damage".


The gun twirled around her calloused fingers. It held many memories and saved her life on my tills occasions. She wasn't planning on telling him her name anytime soon. The more in the dark he was about her, the better. Knowledge was power. He could easily use what he knew against her.


That wasn't the only thing she was worried about. At the moment, his intentions of killing her seemed to be zero to none. He was here out of pure curiousity. Her name went around a bit, it didn't exactly carry positive connotations with it. A few bounties had been put up for her head, a few people were dumb enough to try. They all failed, obviously.


He was right, she didn't have many friends. She didn't have any friends. It was her own fault, she knew that much. When you devote your life to one goal you leave little room for relationships whether they be Platonic or otherwise.

 

[Claera]

Within the darkness of a small, sandy overhang, a creature stirred from its slumber. Its many layers caused a waterfall of dirt and sand to flow to the ground as it stood, stretching its stiff muscles and shaking off any remaining debris. Finally, deciding it was finally time to get moving, Solara stepped into the open desert.


The night was still, but cold. Always cold in the desert nights. But, due to her many layers, it was a million times better than the scorching sun. Blue eyes scanned the horizon, attentive ears listened, and she took a deep breath. Smoke from a distant campfire curled up to the heavens, accompanied by a gunshot that echoed off the silent, empty dunes.


Easy pickin's.


Making sure her swords were strapped to her back, Solara darted into the night. Her feet barely made a sound on the hard-packed sand, moving in a perfect, steady rhythm. If she had to guess, it would only take her about five minutes to get there.


Hopefully something hadn't already killed them.

 

[BauxiteMechanism]

Aqualung relaxed as the Stranger lowered her weapon. It's a heavenly feeling knowing that your life has been prolonged, even if only by a few minutes. He was so relaxed in fact, that he decided to see how much he can get away with. "Well as it so happens, most of the things in the desert, two legged or otherwise, are not like me. They may think like me, act like me, and maybe even speak like me, but they're not quite me. Want to know the difference?" Without waiting for a response, he takes his bloodied hand, sticks out his thumb and fingers out in the shape of a pistol, and mimes blowing his own brains out. Some of the blood from his gash dribbled down his cheek as he did this, adding to the effect. "They all have guns, while I do not. I'm not sure if you can tell or not, but I'm not from around here. Where I'm from, guns simply do not work. Powder gets too wet, see?"


Aqualung pauses for a second and stares the Stranger in the eyes. She didn't seem perturbed, so that was a start, but he was unsure if she was tiring of his spiel. You have to be careful about boring someone with a gun. They my decide to make their own fun, starting by making six new holes in which there were none to begin with.


"Ah, where are my manners? I am Aqualung. I'm hoping that you haven't heard of me, otherwise I haven't been doing my job correctly." As he said this, he offered his bloodied hand for a handshake. An archaic gesture from a lost world.

 

[Laeta]

The gun stopped twirling, now it the smooth handled rested on her palm once again. She didn't holster it quite yet, although she let the hand holding it rest on her thigh rather than pointing it at Aqualung. So he was from the wetlands. The desert must have been hell for him then. "Oh, right. The other people with guns. Let's be honest. There are not that many people out here to begin with. Then there is the speed factor. They need to be able to draw faster than I can, and thenn comes the aim. If they miss they may as well grab that pretty little gun and shoot their own brains out. I am sure that God would love to see the desert decorated with their brains. There is a reason why I survived this long, . "


He was trying to push her. She could see that much. Whether he was doing it to be a nuisance or doing it to see what made he tick, something that he could easily use against her.


The bloodied hand confused her for a brief moment. It had been so long since she was offered a handshake that she nearly forgot how they work. Her hand slowly lifted from the sand and the she pressed her palm against his, letting her fingers curl like bones around his hand. A squeeze to show her strenghth. She pumped three times and then retracted the hand.

 

[Claera]

"Six minutes..." It had taken longer than she'd thought to reach the sand dune overlooking the campsite. Maybe, Solara thought, she needed a little work on her perception of distance.


From what she could tell, nobody was dead. In fact, the traveler seemed to be having a little chat with something that looked like it had crawled out of the ground. Then again, she doubted she looked much different. She must've been covered in at least five pounds of sand when she woke up...


The traveler was a girl. She didn't look like a mercenary or thug either, like Solara had hoped. Killing innocents weighed down on her conscience, but the female may have valuable supplies.


The other creature was a wild card. It didn't seem human, but it was humanoid. If she attacked the girl, she wasn't sure if he, it looked male to her, would defend her, or join in on the attack. All she knew was that she could wait. The girl's guard was down. She was as relaxed as she'd ever be. Time to move in.


With a near silent hiss, her swords came from of their sheaths. She crept down the dune, making sure to cause as little disturbance in the sand as possible, wondering if the creature would rat her out once she was spotted. Oh well, too late to turn around now.

 

[Oreo Cookie]

A sea of sand that stretched farther than the eye could see. Crossing it, an elven man who wondered whether he made a mistake in doing so. He crested a rather large sand dune just as the sun took its descent below the horizon. Behind him, his shadow lengthened. The sunset would have been a beautiful sight to behold, were it not for the fact that it signified the end of the harsh day and beginning of a long and cruel night.


He wiped his brow absentmindedly, although there was no sweat to wipe away. It was only a couple of days ago when his body stopped producing it in an effort to conserve water. He'd be surprised if he could spit more than a drop right now. His remaining canteen contained little more than a mouthful of water within it. At the start of his journey, he was adamant he had more than enough water to last two weeks. His predictions held true, but when the third week rolled around his hopes of crossing this hell hole waned.


Night fell, and the stars were now his company. Not wishing to rest just yet, he continued onward. He trudged down the dune, stumbling here and there, cursing mildly with each misstep he took. Dune after dune he crossed, his muscles burning in protest for a break. And then he heard it. The sharp crack of a gun. A sound barely recognizable for him, for he encountered only one gunslingers in his lifetime. But it only took one for him to memorize such a terrifying sound. He listened for more, but none followed. One was usually all it took afterall.


Investigating any noise at night was dangerous. Investigating a gunshot was an errand for either the desperate or the suicidal. Deciding he was the former, he moved toward the direction of the sound, and soon enough would come to see a firelight within the distance. In the night, it might as well have been a beacon. Even at this great distance, he could make out two figures within proximity of the fire, both apparently alive. He had no intention of getting closer, not without a little recon that is. He retrieved a spyglass from his person and focused on the figures once more.

 

[BauxiteMechanism]

Aqualung drew his hand back and inspected it. It seems his nail polish of choice, "sanguine brown", had dried nicely despite some smearing. Unsure of any other arcane hand gestures he could've made, he let his hand fall limp to his side. It brushed past his dagger on the way down, and for but a second, a flash a recognition crossed his eyes as his fingers touched the cool metal pommel of the dagger. But for once this wasn't the time for bloodshed. He relaxed his hand completely and proceeded to forget that he was even carrying a weapon.


"Stiff handshake, huh? Don't worry, we'll make a gentle-whatever out of you yet." Aqualung had to stifle a laugh as he said this. Not because it was funny, no, but because the concept was absolutely, without a doubt, the worst idea anyone could come up with. Manners? In the wasteland?! No, one would have to be crazy to even consider that a possibility. The only please and thank-you's necessary here are "please don't shoot" and "thank you for falling for that" as brain them with a shovel and take their boots.


"Anyway, are you alone out here, or do you have some cronies over beyond that hill?" As he said this, he pointed to the very dune that he crossed to get there. For but a second, he broke gaze with the Stranger and looked to where he was pointing. Unfortunately, the surroundings seemed different this time around. There was some sort of figure lying down on the fringes of the dune. Either that, or a particularly human-like shrub has sprouted within the minute they had spoke.


Acting entirely on instinct, Aqualung dropped straight to the ground, kicking up a small plume of silty sand in the process. "Hey, quit clowning for a second, I'd very much like to survive this!" As he said this, the facade of friendliness dropped completely. From this point forward, it had gone into business mode. That is to say, if your business was slicing people and taking their boots as their blood soaked into the sands. When he realized that he was still the only one crawling about on the ground, he called out to the Stranger, and his slithering voice wormed its way into her ears. "Hey, I said get down! Get down, or I'll cut you down! I'm not letting some low-life arsebandit do me in because they aimed at you, and hit me by mistake!"

 

[Laeta]

Dana watched Aqualung rather closely. She noticed the dagger hanging at his side. He hadn't even tried to threaten her with it. He was either planning something bigger or he really didn't mean her any harm. The only harm he would ever bring her was if he tried to force her to use manners in this hellhole. Only someone with a death wish would do that.


When the sand had created a cloud around her she thought that he was going in for an attack. When none came, she turned to look behind her. There was a figure that was getting ever so closer. Squealing was on the ground, it was probably a good idea for her to join him.


It was another humanoid, only this one seemed to be wrapped in bandages. She had never seen something like that alive. Both guns were sitting in her palms, idiot waiting for the moment that they would split the bullets out and into whomever Dana wished. She didn't even remember getting the out, they just ended up there.


Her brown eyes swept across the dunes once more, just to see if there was any other attacker that she should be wary of. Tonight all the creatures were unusually rowdy whether it was the location or the time of the year, she couldn't say that she knew.


Not finding anything else, she hit the ground sending up a brown plume into the sky. It filled her lungs, making her have to fight off the cough that was lodged in her throat. Her body's attempt at ridding itself of the intruding substance.


Both guns were now pointed at the figure, she didn't shoot, not quite yet. The creature wasn't quite in the range of her gun yet, she had to wait. The guns reflected the light from the fire, the creature probably knew she had guns by now.


"Well would you look at that? Perhaps the desert will get painted red today."