[b]Preacher[/b] :

[I]{Sunlit.}[/i]

A day bright, a day devoid of most life, and a path leading through a long abandoned brick and wood town told the man known as Preacher that somehow, someway, this’d be a day of battle. Immediately or eventually he did not know but his strolling pace was at least absorbing the brightness of the day. Gloved hands sat comfortably within front side pockets of a long somewhat faded black colored unbuttoned preachers coat (which was wound over a white button up dress shirt), dress pant clad legs and booted feet carried him forward and dark eyes, almost hidden behind a messy main of indistinguishable but dark unkempt head and facial hair, consistently peered forward past most things within range. Slung over his shoulder was what he called a ‘Beam Rifle’ with a bayonet attachment, through his coat, though hard to see, a little leather ‘pack’ seemingly jingled small but audible metal clacks as he moved. 

Days like these, despite his drab monotone somewhat melancholy personality, were things he quietly enjoyed. The area itself somewhat revived him of more rural areas of home and the day, well, that in itself was wonderful. Near the center of the abandoned town, our Preacher fellow stopped in his tracks. Abandoned oldish looking vehicles lined various chunks of what obviously was a small but stable main street. A particular building at this point in time, a two story thing that was probably a general store, had one of its older stuck out bricks finally break and plop on the ground with a soft thud, something our Preacher fellow bore witness to. Eyes trailed to various one story abandoned buildings of various makes, sizes, and heights and stopped once again somewhere on the road were ahead of him someone had made (a long abandoned one, like everything else) a makeshift barricade. It was an odd thing considering there didn’t appear to be a sign of a struggle anywhere, or skeletal remains for that matter and the barricade itself seemed strangely placed.

“…”

It made Preacher sniff a bit and, that was that really. Licks lipped quietly, our Preacher fellow adjusted himself were he stood but did just that, in a dull fashion; [i]stood[/i] in a seemingly aimless fashion. He was thirsty, an eagle cried out in the distance and…none of this is really relevant but, eh, little details while the impending sense of ‘threat’ would not leave our Preacher fellows mind.

[@Zyamasiel]