Gathered Storm Ch.1: God's moving furniture again

[RangerAidan]

Though it was written that the great evil would come to power with the approval of the great nations, widespread resistance to his dominance emerged immediately, being more concentrated in those parts of the world that held tightly to moral traditions and religions. Upon his followers assuming control of the great militaries, wide swaths of resistors were wiped out. The cetral plains of the U.S. including Texas and a fair half of the southeast were the targets of concentrated bombing campaigns that left more than half of the nation's breadbasket charred, cratered wasteland. LIfe did not arise from the nutrient-rich ashes, and instead was steadily snuffed out entirely by the permeating evil of the influence of the Demon-lords. The ground became corrupted and will not bear grass nor tree. The few survivors subsist off crops grown on holy land near churches and cemetaries that have not yet been defiled. Even they are fading into the mountains as the numbers of demons in the wastes grow. As such, the Central Wastes are home only to abominations of flesh and spirit that ceaselessly roam in search of those without the mark (and to be honest, a lot who do have it as well). As well as the plague of evil, the wastes are often blanketed by powerful dust storms lasting for days. The single benefit of living there? Anonymity. Nobody goes there. No marked citizens to report resistance to the authorities and no regular flyovers by demon-controlled spy satellites and planes. It's the perfect place for the unmarked to travel...if they can avoid the demons. Moreso, it's a great place for a warband to prove its mettle in seclusion and unnter inconsequence to the rest of the world.

-March 5th, 2025
-Kansas City (ruins), Central Wastes, Former U.S.A.

There was a joke in the past that you'd say when someone else made a remark that was particularly trite, youd say "that was cornier than Kansas in summer." That kind of humor doesn't really work around these parts anymore. Nope, the cornfields and parking lots alike are all just a blackened husk of what used to be the definition of Middle America. But it's home now. home for a brand-spanking-right-out-of-mom band of fighters with nothing to either lose or prove. They are out for justice, they are out for vengeance, they are out for blood. And their chances are to be ample.

The reddish, dusty sky kept the air cool. A welcome breath to the passengers in the cramped, speeding train heading due west across the Wastes. It was a dangerous trek, and everyone on the train knew it. Maybe not the kids, too young to get any of it anyways, and too likely to be firghtened out of their wits if they were. This is not to say that the nerves of the engineer or the parents looking out the windows at the barren city on the horizon were entirely steady, either. Bad things happened there, and they knew that, too. The city was crawling with horrors that never slept. It was a risk worth taking for the 3 hundred unmarked refugees heading for the Utah mountain Enclaves.

The plume of smoke on the horizon signaled the approach of something alive. Something with meat on its bones, maybe even lots of somethings that scream and cry and run. The demons knew this, and they left their stalking and gnawing on birds and cats to lie in wait by the tracks for opportunity to present itself. Though they felt omnipotent here, the evil of Kansas City didn't know jack shit about the eyes that were watching them. The smoke signaled these friendlier eyes as well.

"They're coming"




ooc:-Alright, now get to it! Intro your character with a monlogue as he waits in the burned out train station. We are to lie in wait for the train to appear, thus forcing the evil to show itself out of the shadows.