freedomliveson

Promises left on the sand(megatrash/freedom)

Going to post the factions that we come up as we go so I don't forget xD:

Omega: Pretty conservative group that prides itself on effort, work and faith in higher powers

Wildcards: A horde of unstable and maniacal men and women who seek nothing but conquest and pleasure.

Promises left on the sand(megatrash/freedom)

Justin nodded his thanks and drank from the bottle, admiring the taste of the water. It was much better than what he was used to and was about to comment on said taste when her hair shook free of the bandanna that had sat on her head. That caught his attention. She was...well, a number of words came to mind, pretty being one of them, but it seemed to not give enough praise to those luscious locks. He looked away after a couple of moments, not wanting to appear as if he was ogling her body, and was about to speak up when she asked him questions about where "his people" were from. Good question. He wasn't wearing the normal scouting gear, which included a light cloak with the insignia of a rising sun on the sleeves. That normally gave it away, seeing as Omega had become quite the force over the past five years or so.
"Thankfully not alone, no." He slid the water bottle back to her before continuing:
"I'm with Omega. We've been in the area formerly known as Uptown for fifteen years, but we're just now starting to actually make a difference around here. I'm lead scout...or at least, I'm the one that does the most scouting, so my bosses gave me a fancy title to make me feel better about all the work I do." He rubbed the back of his neck absent-mindedly.
"I haven't really known any other life than being with a group, which is something that most don't know. I've seen so many people out there who are floating. Omega tries to give people a place to thrive in, you know?" He laughed before adding:
"Not trying to sell you on the place, just saying that the leadership there cares. They can be a bit too conservative sometimes, but hey, better than the Wildcards, right?" A flash of lightning shot through the dark sky, lighting up the ruins of New York in a vain attempt to gussy up the place. Thunder accompanied the lightning, as if the sky was disappointed in it's remodeling efforts. Justin watched as the darkness settled back into the city, vigilant for any oddities on the streets near their location. After he felt satisfied nothing was going to consume their lives in the next few minutes, he asked:
"What about you? I assume someone sent you here on some kind of mission. The way you gripped that box doesn't leave much to the imagination."

Promises left on the sand(megatrash/freedom)

"I can do that." He adjusted his pack before adding:
"And you're welcome. No one deserves to starve."

Every couple of minutes or so, Justin looked back, his stride quickening after the fifth time.
"Clouds are getting much darker. Here's hoping this freak storm doesn't last for too long." Thunder rolled through the sky, the sounds echoing off the remains of the desolate downtown streets that would have once held a city teeming with life. It was hard to swallow that New York had once been a thriving metropolis with almost ten million people occupying the island. To think it was only fifty years ago that-

The rain began to pound the pavement, drops assaulting his ash brown hair. Groaning, he quickly identified a building to their right with gaping holes for where windows would have been.
"In here, c'mon!" Cursing to himself for not bringing enough attire, he hurried through one of the former windows to find himself and his new-found guest companion in a medium sized space with rusted steel cabinets and rotting wood drawers. He walked around the perimeter of the space and found there were a couple of doors that led into the alley between this building and another taller one. He mumbled something incoherent as he grabbed a couple of drawers and placed them to the left of the makeshift entranceway they had utilized.
"Keep a lookout, alright? You see anything weird, let me know." He rummaged around the cabinets and floors, coming up with some dead leaves and scraps of faded paper that he placed on the bottom of the drawers. He withdrew a rock with a sharp edge from his pack and after a few hard strikes, sparks flew onto the paper and the comforting warmth of a fire began. Nodding in assurance of his fire-making ability, he planted himself a few feet away from the blaze.
"I've got a good vantage point now. Go ahead and sit." He chuckled slightly before adding:
"It looked like you were trying to rest before I interrupted you. Sorry about that...well, maybe I'm not. It's not a smart idea to rest in the open like that. Tried that once and almost got robbed of everything I had." He sidled up against the nearby wall to his left, blowing out a sigh before looking at her.
"I'm Justin. Justin Plance. Wish we could have met in better circumstances, Miss...?"

Promises left on the sand(megatrash/freedom)

Oh, no worries on that front. Thanks, though :)

Promises left on the sand(megatrash/freedom)

Sounds good on both fronts.

Promises left on the sand(megatrash/freedom)

@megatrash Should I let you know when I post via OOC or do you have a notification system set up already?

Promises left on the sand(megatrash/freedom)

"Woah, woah, no need for the aggression!" Justin chuckled, extending his arms out in front of him, hands up.
"See? Not drawing a weapon, not trying to advance towards you to take anything." He stood rooted to his spot on the main road, although a rumble of thunder from the south indicated that he would have to get off the main road soon. With so many buildings, it would be easy to find a place to wait it out, but this ebony haired vixen might be a rabid survivor of yet another raid. She had the frenzied look, the tattered clothing, the nervous stance, but something told him from the lockbox that this wasn't the normal "refugee-on-the-run" he encountered frequently in his travels. Why was she guarding it that closely? Might have had some family heirlooms, but in this age, why guard something that had only sentimental value? Hold onto the past? She didn't look much older than him, so there wasn't much past to grasp. In any case, she looked like she could use a place to call home for a few days. He motioned to the pack on his back as he told her:
"Ok, look, going to get out a packet of raisins...raisins. You know, the dried grapes. For you to eat." He slowly got on one knee and took his pack off, rummaging through it to find a small plastic bag that was tied. Zipping the pack shut, he placed the bag on the ground in front of him.
"Take them and eat. You're going to want the energy to get through the storm that's coming." The drizzle that had been descending picked up slightly in pace, as if on cue. Thunder rumbled once more, this time closer.
"We can get into a building nearby, out of the rain. You can eat, I can start a fire and we can have a friendly conversation instead of you waving a knife at me. That sound ok? Cause I know it sounds ok to me." He drew a bit closer, picking up the bag of raisins and extending it out to her.
"Come on, they're not poisoned." He waved the bag at her, his best smile coming across his face. Yes, it was dangerous to try and help, but more often than not he had learned that helping people in this world amounted to more good than evil. It was the optimist in him.

Promises left on the sand(megatrash/freedom)

Ha! No worries. It'll make things easier for our charries to get to New Jerusalem anyway :)

Besides, I'm much more familiar with New York than Newark, so I'll be able to get more location details right instead of improvising xD

Promises left on the sand(megatrash/freedom)

Hi there! Read your post and really enjoyed the detail you put into it :)

Also, I did notice that you placed Cameron in New York, so I edited my post...my bad on wrong location xD

Also also, I'll be getting to your reply today. Things are a bit calmer at work today than yesterday, so I'll have time. Yay!

Promises left on the sand(megatrash/freedom)

Poking through the pebbles and grit, he managed to find the object jutting out of the pile, a smile playing across his lips as he lifted it up, brushing off the remaining dust and debris. It was a long, serrated scabbard which still had the 14 inch knife inside. He gripped the grooved handle, withdrawing the blade for a moment, allowing the drizzle to wash off any impurities. It was of a good make and well-maintained, which surprised him. Most weapons like these were safeguarded by their owners with ferocity due to the lack of materials to craft something like this AND the people with the wherewithal to not kill themselves during the process. Of course, he WAS scavenging the site of the latest conflict between The Wildcards, a rogueish band of thugs who had an affinity for blades, and raiders who thought numbers could prevail over skilled warriors. In a sense, they were right; the crimson garbed Wildcards were scattered across the sand, their faces contorted in agony. Yet, there were a number of raider corpses haphazardly littered about as well, various gashes and cuts present on their bodies. The carnage brought the tenacity of the Wildcards to the fore of Justin's mind, but he didn't too much reminding. He and Malika went through three turbulent weeks of a "relationship", those memories serving as a way for him to never forget the motto of the Wildcards:

"Live to conquer. The rest sorts itself out."

Snorting at the thought, Justin sheathed the blade and placed the scabbard on a hook in his belt, securing it with a small bit of rope before standing up to his full height. He wasn't massive, but he was taller than others, his frame lithe and athletic, perfect for his job as scout for Omega.

This latest scouting trip complete, Justin's green irises scanned his surroundings one last time. The collapsed buildings, some crawling with verdant vines, others sprouting full on foliage, flanked his left and right sides, but there was no movement. Content, he started north back towards New Jerusalem, which would be no more than a days journey by foot if there weren't any complications.

But of course, there were always complications.

He snickered, looking up at the grey sky, feeling the light rain on his tanned face. Normally he would be covered from head to toe in his normal scouting attire, but with the day being so cool, he decided to lighten his load. On his body were cargo pants that had been cut off at the knee and a long sleeved navy shirt covered by a light jacket sewn together from shirts Kylie had found on her journeys(bless her heart). He carried a pack with him on his back and the scabbard dangled from his modified pants, said pack shifting every time he moved forward.

He started down the road, passing the shambles of what could have been Chinatown...or the Freedom Tower complex? His geography was sketchy at best. It was hard to remember what these places were called back in the old ti-

About one hundred yards away, tucked up against the entrance to an alleyway was what looked like a woman. He drew closer, eyes narrowing. It was indeed a woman and next to her was a steel lockbox.

Odd.

"Hey...hey, why on earth are you out here?"