Thread: Destruction's Right Hand (Razgriz & WritingxDreamer)

The year was 9538 humanity and Earth had finally come to a balance with each other. Power to fuel the devices of the modern day was now almost one hundred percent efficient, trash production had all but dropped to zero, and nature had been restored largely to what it had been since the size and population of cities had been decreased, the latter largely in part to a well-organized committee of family planning to reduce population growth. Build up, not out, as some folks might call the philosophy roads too had decreased in number. They were still there, but only for mass transport of goods and of course, providing the people with a surface on which to walk. The cars that had once clogged the surface of the planet those few millennia ago were now replaced by efficient flying vehicles, using localized gravity inversion engines to take themselves off the surface and to the skies. However, one day it would go horribly awry, so awry that everything mankind had worked to achieve would be threatened. It was the year 9719, and the Chancellor of League of Nations - the head of the newly-formed international government where a representative of each country was granted a seat to help better deal with global issues, rather than the old system of national governments that had proven extremely flawed in the past - was addressing a television and attending audience about the state of the international union. The elderly-looking man stood in a crisp black suit, the knot of the red-black striped tie he wore just visible from under his sports jacket. The greyed-chocolate locks neatly combed, and his silver-blue eyes gazed among those in attendance as he stood behind the podium, a genuine expression of contentedness on his face the League's banner was hung up behind him, a way of showing his support and glee that people worked for the common good. He gave an extremely moving speech, one about how he - one forty-two-years-young Harry Feldser Hurman - was proud to be the leader of such a fine race of beings. Of how much they'd evolved to be this new, cooperative race that cast aside differences and worked with each to live as a truly advanced, united species. Then.....It all came crashing down A single bullet penetrated the dome of the building and traveled right through the skull of the charismatic, intelligent man the banner of the League was painted in a horrific spray of blood and grey matter, and the Chancellor's lifeless corpse fell to the ground, never again to offer inspiring words to help the people continue living as they had been all these years. Naturally his family was hit the hardest the son, one Samuel Ray Hurman - who was chosen to succeed his father when his term was up - at only twenty-three years of age, now held the responsibility of leading the world in his father's image. However, he was young and naive he had some experience in politics, as his father had tried to teach him about everything he learned. His advisors worked with the boy as best they could, but.....He wasn't his father. The unthinkable had happened An assassination on the League of Nations Chancellor - the head of the newly-formed international government where a representative of each country was granted a seat to help better deal with global issues, rather than the old system of national governments that had proven extremely flawed in the past - was performed. The crime was not claimed by anybody for a few years however, it was revealed that a conglomerate of rebels - ones who opposed the dictatorial ways of the League - had done so because they felt it was too powerful and limited the people's will to be truly free. Soon, the problem escalated into all-out war, the League trying to eradicate the Rebellion while the Rebellion tried to eradicate the League however, one small faction of the group took it too far and detonated a black market-acquired nuclear bomb in the League's building, completely wiping out every leader of the new world from the face of the planet in a single, violent flash of heat and light. With their symbol of order destroyed, countries struggled to regain control of order however, it all soon fell back to the finger-pointing ways of the old days. Charismatic, silver-tongued civilians rose up in each nation and led the soldiers to further war, each now trying to grab as many resources as it could. Super-bugs were created and unleashed, decimating populations as teams of scientists worked just as hard to counter them. Nukes seemed to go off like fireworks, erasing entire cities and even smaller nations from existence in the blink of an eye. For decades this went on as the bombs continued to fall and war raged on, the governments had shelters installed for those displaced by the constant fighting. Ones with every available commodity they could salvage large groups of civilians were herded into these safe havens, where they could live out their lives and hopefully re-emerge to rebuild society. Fast-forward 100 years Eventually, the warring died out as humanity's population dwindled by the year 9819, the planet was in bad shape Many areas were still uninhabitable because of the lethal radiation levels, and much of the serene landscape was all but destroyed. Many cities were actually filled with mutants, humans that had gained an increased life-span but at the same time lost their sanity and became nothing more than mindless killing machines. However, Mother Nature still showed her persistence, as did humanity trees began to flourish in what areas they could, and the surviving shelter people had long since crawled out of their holes in the ground, only to find that the world had changed quite a bit from what the stories had said it once looked like. But, they managed to rebuild, slowly but surely however, a new threat had arisen The Enforcers, a tyrannical group of very well-armed people that sought to impose their own brand of order on the remaining populace. To complicate matters more, groups of survivors had turned into nothing but raiders and bandits, attacking supply convoys and trying to salvage what scrap they could for their own goals and ways of life. It was an uneasy existence, but as long as the Enforcers were around, life seemed to be - at face value - pretty good considering it was supposed to have been the end of the world. Many towns had managed to scrounge up tech from the old days and re-purpose it into weapons, vehicles and other tools necessary for survival. However, there were those who saw past the good intentions of the Enforcers and like the Rebellion that sought to liberate the people, a band of Resistance Fighters had risen to challenge the despotic organization. Their motto was The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, so fight the Enforcer's Reaper and you'll live another day. Who the Resistance people were was unknown, but they fought the Enforcers every chance they could get. Some towns were in support of them, others condemned them because it brought back the same problem that had killed the Old World. For the most part though, the fighting was mostly behind the scenes Sabotage, intercepting supply lines, mostly things to cripple the various sources of life for each organization. But......the petty squabbles of the Resistance and the Enforcers didn't so much as faze Richard Redstone, Mayor of Central City. Standing at a mean 6'5, his blazing red locks reflected in the bright sun as he chewed on a lit cigar, an eyepatch covering his bad eye. The man, covered in a brown leather jacket and wearing nothing else but red pants and black combat boots, was built like a tank and looked like he could throw one too few ever bad-mouthed him, but in all honesty, he oversaw this town with a fair hand and a clear sense of justice. He had his people to protect, and he couldn't let himself get caught up in this same old song and dance shit. Now Central City was far from a metropolis, but it was one of the more developed settlements. From racing to strip clubs to businesses to plumbing, this town had it all hell, some places even had old-style wooden signs and neon to help advertise themselves. However, none of it came for free, as did all things in life. There were still the problems of price-gouging, business fraud, and general crime to deal with, not to mention sending prospecting parties out to find what they needed. Hell there was plenty of it to go around, not to mention the trade routes with the other settlements that brought in plenty of goods. The only trouble was being able to acquire these goods, as that sometimes entailed going into rather dangerous territory. Territory that often claimed the lives of more good people than most cared to admit. He then went back inside to get another trading party ready there were other duties as well, but getting supplies was a top priority. He walked back into this rather messy office, where stacks of forms sat at his desk, and pressed the intercom button, his gruff voice playing out in speakers over the city's PA system, Attention, Wellspring, this is your Mayor speaking. All Caravan personnel report to my office immediately. He then looked to his assistant Brian and said, See if you can't scrounge up some more people to act as guard detail we don't need the Gearheads or the Ghosts hitting us again. The short blonde man, dressed in a bright blue shirt and tan khakis, nodded and began trying to round people up, going from door to door of the more capable people in town. Redstone just hoped this would go better than last time too many people got killed and they damn near lost the cargo. I tried to leave it kind of open-ended so that I didn't place too many restrictions on your character. I figured she could be just about anything, so that you can build her from the ground up. She can be a civilian, one of the Caravan Guards, a merc currently residing there, etc.