[The Forever Tree]Rustdeity IC.
Posted: Mon May 06, 2019 2:46 pm
List of storylines:
Storyline One: /<The False Enginseer>\
Storyline Two: /<Dancer-upon-Oblivion>\
Storyline Three: /<Renewel, Prologue>\
Storyline Four: /<Renewel, Part 1: Defense of the Palace of Eternity>\
Storyline Five: /<Renewel, Part 2: Reclaiming the Winter Palace>\
Interlude One: /<Heavenpoint>\
Interlude Two: /<Corrosion\>
Bastion, Washer’s Ton District, Noram Bloc
Midnight
It has been a long, long time since men walked the stars like gods. Some mad conflict’d rendered all that effort ash on the wind. Rustdeity, once known by a different name, had been glorious: shining boulevards, miles-high towers, agricenters able to feed billions——even cultural landmarks so famous alien xenogen spoke of them!
That was a long, long time ago. Whatever the Catastrophe was has been forgotten. It was a war, the survivors whispered, a war that set the sky on fire and destroyed entire star systems. No one knew for sure. Literacy was rare, found mostly among untainted bioelites. Formal schooling was non-existent. Survival was too important a task to waste time on such frivolous matters.
Rustdeity’s ecosystems had vanished long before the Catastrophe, turning the entire planet into one massive city. Once the Catastrophe hit, there was suddenly no outside help coming or a way to escape into space, and definitely no arable land. This might have been fixable, had insurgents not made three gigastations go critical, triggering a nuclear winter that took generations to fade.
The air had become foul. Drinkable water was like gold, and eagerly fought over. The endless ‘sea’ of dilapidated, burned-our city blocs had become infested with mutated wildlife, escaped from various zoos. Biotwist humans also lurked in that feral urban mess, degenerate tribes feeding off whatever food they could catch or steal—-which, sadly, often meant other people.
During the day, the sky was smog-covered. Seeing the sun was a rare thing, but hardly a pleasure. The ozone layer had frayed considerably: too much direct sunlight often meant cancer...or worse.
At night, the stars were no longer visible. The moon, rarely seen, was an ill-omen, as robotic drones sometimes descended from the lunar surface to harvest human beings for some unknowable grisly purpose.
But life survived nonetheless. Food and drinkable water could still be found. Nano-assembler factories the size of small warehouses produced edible-if-flavorless foodstuffs, and purified water, making it safe to drink. These biocreches were fiercely fought over.
And, if you were lucky, you might find a greenhouse, fully automated and still miraculously running after all this time. With no one to maintenance them, plantlife within usually grew out of control, creating a botanical feast unimaginable to most of the peoples of Rustdeity.
And if the Nameless God was with you, you’d find a structure that was both. Such was the case with Bastion. Protected by the mighty hero Imperious, Bastion was a beacon of hope in a never ending industrial nightmare. With six thousand bioelites inside its walls, it had such luxuries as running water, flushing toilets and enough purified water to safely waste in normally frivolous things like hygiene.
Of course were it not for Imperious, Bastion would’ve fallen long ago. The god-monster Arcaninauts would’ve burned it to the ground, or the Iron Enginseers would’ve laid siege to it to contest for ownership, or even mutant hordes demanding access but not blessed with restraint enough to carefully husband Bastion’s resources.
But that was not all that made Bastion important, for it had access to the Locked Sea. Once 75% of Rustdeity had been covered in ocean. Pre-Catastrophe, this bounteous water source had been paved over and transformed into unimaginably vast aquacultural farms, zoos and cisterns. Bastion, with the Locked Sea to its right, had fish, a delicacy rarely had.
Life in Bastion was good. Oh, of course, outside forces would try and take it—-mutant gangs, reaver tribes, even the occasional lone Arcaninaut—-but mighty Imperious stood sentinel, and, under his careful watch, Bastion stood strong.
Bastion was not a single building. No, it was a massive complex of structures laid out in a cross pattern and surrounded by high walls, parts of which had been repaired by scavenged bits of metal from the outlying territory. In the dead center of it all was Homestead, a fortress-like cube where everyone slept each night.
It is now midnight, and Imperious has been on the walls for several hours, keeping watch. To his left was Mickey, an alopecia-suffering wastes-wanderer Imperious had rescued a little less than a year ago. Mickey was skilled with knifefighting and ambushes; Imperious suspected she’d been a reaver, at one point. But Mickey’d been ok’d by Mr. Ashcroft, and people learned quickly to accept her.
(Aside from Imperious, only one inhabitant of Bastion had powers: Mr. Ashcroft, a mutant, the only mutant in Bastion, who’d been blessed with telepathy.)
“Lovely night,” Mickey remarked. Her eyes turned eastwards. Far off in the distance, a massive tire fire had beers burning for weeks.
Storyline One: /<The False Enginseer>\
Storyline Two: /<Dancer-upon-Oblivion>\
Storyline Three: /<Renewel, Prologue>\
Storyline Four: /<Renewel, Part 1: Defense of the Palace of Eternity>\
Storyline Five: /<Renewel, Part 2: Reclaiming the Winter Palace>\
Interlude One: /<Heavenpoint>\
Interlude Two: /<Corrosion\>
Bastion, Washer’s Ton District, Noram Bloc
Midnight
It has been a long, long time since men walked the stars like gods. Some mad conflict’d rendered all that effort ash on the wind. Rustdeity, once known by a different name, had been glorious: shining boulevards, miles-high towers, agricenters able to feed billions——even cultural landmarks so famous alien xenogen spoke of them!
That was a long, long time ago. Whatever the Catastrophe was has been forgotten. It was a war, the survivors whispered, a war that set the sky on fire and destroyed entire star systems. No one knew for sure. Literacy was rare, found mostly among untainted bioelites. Formal schooling was non-existent. Survival was too important a task to waste time on such frivolous matters.
Rustdeity’s ecosystems had vanished long before the Catastrophe, turning the entire planet into one massive city. Once the Catastrophe hit, there was suddenly no outside help coming or a way to escape into space, and definitely no arable land. This might have been fixable, had insurgents not made three gigastations go critical, triggering a nuclear winter that took generations to fade.
The air had become foul. Drinkable water was like gold, and eagerly fought over. The endless ‘sea’ of dilapidated, burned-our city blocs had become infested with mutated wildlife, escaped from various zoos. Biotwist humans also lurked in that feral urban mess, degenerate tribes feeding off whatever food they could catch or steal—-which, sadly, often meant other people.
During the day, the sky was smog-covered. Seeing the sun was a rare thing, but hardly a pleasure. The ozone layer had frayed considerably: too much direct sunlight often meant cancer...or worse.
At night, the stars were no longer visible. The moon, rarely seen, was an ill-omen, as robotic drones sometimes descended from the lunar surface to harvest human beings for some unknowable grisly purpose.
But life survived nonetheless. Food and drinkable water could still be found. Nano-assembler factories the size of small warehouses produced edible-if-flavorless foodstuffs, and purified water, making it safe to drink. These biocreches were fiercely fought over.
And, if you were lucky, you might find a greenhouse, fully automated and still miraculously running after all this time. With no one to maintenance them, plantlife within usually grew out of control, creating a botanical feast unimaginable to most of the peoples of Rustdeity.
And if the Nameless God was with you, you’d find a structure that was both. Such was the case with Bastion. Protected by the mighty hero Imperious, Bastion was a beacon of hope in a never ending industrial nightmare. With six thousand bioelites inside its walls, it had such luxuries as running water, flushing toilets and enough purified water to safely waste in normally frivolous things like hygiene.
Of course were it not for Imperious, Bastion would’ve fallen long ago. The god-monster Arcaninauts would’ve burned it to the ground, or the Iron Enginseers would’ve laid siege to it to contest for ownership, or even mutant hordes demanding access but not blessed with restraint enough to carefully husband Bastion’s resources.
But that was not all that made Bastion important, for it had access to the Locked Sea. Once 75% of Rustdeity had been covered in ocean. Pre-Catastrophe, this bounteous water source had been paved over and transformed into unimaginably vast aquacultural farms, zoos and cisterns. Bastion, with the Locked Sea to its right, had fish, a delicacy rarely had.
Life in Bastion was good. Oh, of course, outside forces would try and take it—-mutant gangs, reaver tribes, even the occasional lone Arcaninaut—-but mighty Imperious stood sentinel, and, under his careful watch, Bastion stood strong.
Bastion was not a single building. No, it was a massive complex of structures laid out in a cross pattern and surrounded by high walls, parts of which had been repaired by scavenged bits of metal from the outlying territory. In the dead center of it all was Homestead, a fortress-like cube where everyone slept each night.
It is now midnight, and Imperious has been on the walls for several hours, keeping watch. To his left was Mickey, an alopecia-suffering wastes-wanderer Imperious had rescued a little less than a year ago. Mickey was skilled with knifefighting and ambushes; Imperious suspected she’d been a reaver, at one point. But Mickey’d been ok’d by Mr. Ashcroft, and people learned quickly to accept her.
(Aside from Imperious, only one inhabitant of Bastion had powers: Mr. Ashcroft, a mutant, the only mutant in Bastion, who’d been blessed with telepathy.)
“Lovely night,” Mickey remarked. Her eyes turned eastwards. Far off in the distance, a massive tire fire had beers burning for weeks.