A World Trapped In Winter

A young woman stood on a high hill, overlooking the makeshift ship landing. She was clad in tight fabric, layering many different bits of random clothing into a suit. On her chest embroided in, stood a single eye with a single tear perpetually falling out of the corner of the eye. She had pointed teeth, like all the FutureKind did. She wore a hood, but in the cold winds a few long strands of snow white hair fell, and were blown out of her observing eye.

Suddenly she leapt down, landing in an easy crouch she sprang down the ill-used path to the ship's landing site. The world was harsh and dead, but she alone remembered when trees used to be green. When flowers used to hold beauty. Now, the plants were shriveled and gray, as though they had turned to stone. Food was often scarce, prompting the FutureKind clans to resort to hunting small game or cannibalism.

Her name was unknown to her, having forgot it over the 9,000 years she had lived. The clans she wandered past called her The Reaper, believing her to be a bad omen. The servant of death itself. She never stayed in, or near a single clan for to long. She didn't have a home, nor desired one. Unknown to her, she was not the only one interested in the strange object, though she was the only one without food on her mind. Growling she turned just as a crazed woman shrieked and leapt from her hiding spot. Wielding a mace she swung it wide, unsure of how to use it.

The Reaper caught the mace by the handle and tore it out of her reluctant grip, and kicked the woman back. The Reaper swung, and the crazed woman fell to the ground, stone dead. Setting the bloody mace on her belt The Reaper ran down the path. Her footsteps were light, and rapid. She was quick, and silent as she made her was to the site.

Confused, she walked nearer to the fence that the refugees had put up so quickly. She had never seen things like those before, and she wanted to know what it was.
The word Kost, was not a human one. She had simply assumed that the strange creatures knew it meant she meant them no harm. The new creatures that looked some much like her kind, save for their teeth took out bent iron sticks and the loud snaps startled her. The ground beneath The Reaper suddenly had little explosions, kicking up long undisturbed ashes. Instincively she leapt back, the new creature's home was loud, having over 100 people speaking at once. The noise confused her, but she remained curious.
. It meant that she had had enough, that she meant no harm. In response another round of loud bangs, made her jump. She narrowed her eyes in defense and roared, holding the mace at ready to show she was in fact a threat. A sharp pain pushed it's way through her shoulder, and she growled ferally. She turned, and she ran from the strange new creatures. Ducking into a trench she looked up. They were strange, and painful, and she wanted to know more if it killed her.


*Note* this is not complete, so check in every once in a while.

The Reaper passed several clans, always asking about that strange base she knew so little about. Most could only tell her what she already knew, but every so often someone would give her some new information. They called themselves humans, the base was called Silo 16, they often killed the FutureKind that came, and their weapon of choice was called a gun. The Reaper believed you could tell a lot about a person, personally from their weapon. She herself dealt in everything from bows, to knives, to swords, to shields and even maces. Anything she could get her hands on. She did not belong to a clan, and was far older then the clans themselves. At the age of over 9,000 she had watched the stars go out, had watched whole worlds die.  And in time, had watched her own world die as well.

Several days later, she had gathered all the information the clans had to offer, which was very little. She wanted to know everything and they offered her only pieces. It was never enough, it never would be. She wanted something more, she didn't know how she was going to be able to sate her curiousity, but this was not it. Unsatisfied she shouldered a leather pack she had made herself. She only brought the most essential items. Losing the mace, instead arming herself with a crooked stone knife. It wasn't especially well made, in fact it was dull and cracked. But the Reaper set it to her belt never the less. Tying in the leather sheath The Reaper looked upwards. The only person left who would know about the humans was not pleasant. She was legendary for being insane and eccentric. She had resigned herself to living on a mountain top, building herself a home on the top of Vanek Hol.

Venak Hol was a wild and unpredictable mountain. Over time, it had grown sharp and cruel like the rest of Malcassairo. The name translated into "Wearying one" with rocky cliffs, and abundant dangers it frightened most sane FutureKind to leave The Ataashi to die in her own due time. Reaching up, The Reaper pulled herself up an edge that was as wide as her foot. Leaping she caught another ledge, similar to the first and swung herself. Releasing, she landed in a easy crouch on a larger cliff a little ways out. Feeling the ground shift and shake beneath her, she caught herself on a root poking out from the mountain. Feeling the entire part of the cliff give way beneath her she caught another side of the sharp cliff with her free hand. Forcing herself up she made her way up the side of Venak Hol.

Within a matter of hours The Reaper had arrived to the top. It was just as jagged, however a simple building stood out akwardly. It leaned against a nearby cliff, using it as support and as a wall. The building was small, no light came from it. Never did, The Ataashi long ago had thrown the wood and candles down the cliffs. Certain that they would cause her death. Looking down the cliffs The Reaper smiled a little at her progress. Unsurpringly a thick fog obstructed her veiw, she couldn't see the ground. Only rocky and steep cliffs, blinking for a second she looked to a ledge.

Gasping, she reached upwards. Almost making it to the next hand hold. Her entire body screamed in protest, she couldn't quite reach. Her arms were to short, she was to young. Only the age of 5 at the time. With a shout she leapt off the wall, reaching for the cliff desperatly.



The Reaper stepped back, recalling the memory in gruesome detail. Her white hair was mostly out of her hood, so she simply removed it. Watchin gher step she crept to the building. Her white hair shimmered, and fell into place down her back. Reaching no farther then her waist. Hesitantly, she pushed the slab of wood open, it was on the hinges so it simply swung inward.

The room was pitch black, ducking insticntively a pot flew over her head, smashing into the door with a crash. Shrieking a woman ran about in the shadows, like a rat. She moved aside strange objects that morphed their shapes as The Reaper got used to the dark, having spent so much time in the dark herself she had a better eye than others.

"It returns to me!!" she screeched, prowling the shadows. The Reaper bowed deeply in due respect.
"Hah!" She giggled madly skittering about
"It knows nothing. Women curtsy, men bow." She sang in a sing song voice. Quickly she burst out laughing, but stopped as soon as she started. She frowned growing serious.
"Be gone." She hissed. The Reaper looked up alarmed, she had traveled all this way, and only to be dismissed like a dog?

The Reaper was a clever woman, and a stubborn one. She had come all this way and she would not leave until she had what she had come for. The Reaper reached into her own pocket, taking hold of her tribute she pulled a shard of colored glass out and into the last remanants of the light. Since the door was closed behind her, the only light that trickled through came from cracks in the walls and rooftop, it refected off hanging shards of glass and shattered bottles that hung suspended from the rooftop. The glass was colored blue, it was wicked and long. The sides could easily slice through flesh but it caught the light in a beautifully enchanting way. In a world so cold and dismal, beauty was something that was prized. Instantly it caught The Ataashi's attention. Stepping out from her shadow and into the light the woman who stood bent over crookedly snatched the glass from The Reaper as one might for the last scrap of food.

The Ataashi had tire marks running down her cheek, cutting her face in half diagonally. The mark of the machine, the mark of a clan leader. Many scars decorated her once beautiful face, of the many one ran down her right eye, leaving it blind and cloudy. The woman was dressed in a long, tangled up raggidy and torn up dress that had once looked quite beautiful, but the end of time itself had turned the dress into a darker version of itself. The dress was held together by loosly tied knots, it hung off of her thin frame akwardly. The back of the dress touched the ground while the front did not. One of the sleeves hung off her shoulder, wrinkled and torn the back of the dress was far more open then it had been made to be. The dress at one point, had a corsete but now deep claw marks of a wild animal long ago extinct had left the corsete ripped in three wide places.

The dress used to be the purest white, but now held a sickening green from her so many years in the shadows. Her hair was tangled, and bright red as though fire ran through it. She wore it down, and it only reached to her chin in the back. The bangs nearly touched her waist, she often tied strands of hair to decorative objects, as she was doing now with the shard of glass. With experianced fingers, she wrapped her hair around the shard, releasing it the shard fell beside the other objects. Bottles, dead flowers, bits of glass and peices of metal all bumped into one another with a clink whenever she turned her head or moved.

"FoolishFoolishFoolishFoolish" She jittered, practically bouncing in her barefeet. Her words being said so quickly that they melded into one. Even then, her tone of insanity was clearly shown. The shard of glass clinked against the random and bright items hanging beside it as she bounced. On a dime, the woman lost interest and sprinted to the side of the room. Mumbling to herself she picked up some herbs from a chest beside her. From where The Reaper stood she could tell what the herbs were, InkBlood and Liar's Bane. Not satisfied, The Ataashi growled like an animal and scanned the room.

"Well?! Make yourself useful, Basra" She ordered, flicking a hand at The Reaper. Obediantly The Reaper came up beside The Ataashi, reaching above her head she pulled a rusted shut bottle from a bit of rope hanging from the roof. The word Basra was a cruel one. It meant 'thing' not a child, not a person. A thing. Handing a root from the inside of the bottle to The Ataashi The Reaper's long strands of hair fell into her face.

"Are you able to summon Ildas' spirit?" The Reaper asked, choosing her wording carefully and speaking as though it pained her Hearing this, The Ataashi lightly hummed to herself, chopping the InkBlood with a rhythimic dull thud.

"I do not speak to the spirits of useless things." The Ataashi taunted, not even bothering to stop in her chopping to look at The Reaper. As she finished her sentence, The Reaper drew her stone knife and held it against The Ataashi's throat. She had her pinned against one of the walls, The Reaper was willing to tear her throat out in her rage.

"You speak of my child!" The Reaper snarled between her bared teeth. With her bent and cracked stone knife, her teeth meant for tearing and ripping she was a fearsome sight to see. And to know, that she had nothing left to lose. It made her a fearsome force indeed. The Ataashi giggled, tilting her head daring The Reaper to cut her throat.

"Which makes her worse then you, Basra" She grinned wildly. Sheathing her knife, The Reaper stepped back from The Ataashi.

"Now, how does that work?" The Reaper asked, her tone was dull as though she expected the insult that came next.

"You are worse then me, there fore it must be true!" The Ataashi roared with laughter.

"You have a knife," The Reaper nodded towards the knife in The Ataashi's hand. "Why did you not use it?" She asked.

"I did not need to, you are far to cowardly to kill me, Basra" The Reaper looked to The Ataashi with distate.

"That is not the reason I have not killed you. I am proving a point." She glared, "I spared your life, the FutureKind don't have to kill their parents! I saved your life, I-" The Ataashi snarled angrily, interupting The Reaper's sentence.

"Have disgraced me. You prove nothing to a bunch of fools, you disgrace yourself. You disgrace me, you will forever be dishonored and excluded, Basra!" She hissed, her teeth plainly showing in her quite plain threat.