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I promised you a story sister lupine, Here it is.
The breaking of the world... A cataclysm unspoken of in over a century, and the fires that arose from it formed the crucible that all children born upon the earth are tested, tried, and hopefully found worthy amidst the twisted metal landscape. There were still some who remembered what had happened on that day, the way fire and death plumed into the sky as 100 countries around the globe decided that diplomacy and reason were no longer sufficient to achieve their goals, and the political machinations turned into thoughts of war, betrayal, persecution, and insanity. Man had risen to it's pinnacle, one tiny, shining moment in it's history before greed and envy tore the world and all of mankinds workings down into the dust to be trampled on by the progression of time. It was said, that even after the fire claimed the world, that the land was poisoned, that the sky wept tears of black blood, and that for a time after, it was as if the planet itself raged against what humanity had dared to unleash in their neverending struggle for dominance over one another...
Were the wisdom of all to be considered, you'd assume simply that they had learned from this tragic mistake, that amidst the blood, and the steel, and charred bones, that mankind would look around and see what terrible things they had wrought. But you would be wrong. Indeed, after the cataclysm, Mankind never broke from it's sins and the survivors found that the old creed of Might makes Right, was truer now then it ever had been. Simple things like clean water, and food had become so scarce that warfare decided who got to eat at the end of the day, and out of this chaos rose the holdings of two distinct, but small nations.
Like a plague of locusts, humanity congregated to huddle around light and to consume what food they could find, but the world had not recovered from it's breaking, and sooner then later, starvation, dehydration, poisoning, disease, and all the riders of Hell's apocalypse claimed more then their fair share of lives. Now children, we live in this place, this amalgamation of steel and hope, a bulwark against such insanity. We must try to remember what caused our pain and the tribulations we endure everyday, lest we fall into madness. Outside these walls lies the great Sea of Caspian. And beyond that, the Marauders, thieves, cutthroats, and all manner of beast and monster that our twisted sins birthed in the days that followed the breaking of the world. But there is one such creature that is both varied in it's form, and in it's wickedness, and never should the last vestiges of humanity here heed their call. I speak children, of the witches, and the mutants that call them gods.
People, broken in the eyes of God and given power by the hatred and malice that created and scarred the world, to bring pain and suffering down upon the heads of all those true and just. Be wary my children... Be wary...
Excerpt from the "Holders of God" Primary religion of Nubila. Circa 165 A.S.
Nubila... Ahh, how many had heard that name, the telling of a floating country amidst the caspian sea, were food was available, shelter, and safety, all the simple things that a struggling family craved for there for the taking. And all they asked was that you work, you toil for what you were given as was good under the eyes of their God, and that twice a week, you attend worship and heed the words of Master Caller. Truly not a bad life, and there were many who lived there in this apparent beacon of safety, quite comfortably compared to the harsh world that lay just outside it's natural, watery walls.
To reach the city, and in reality compared to the scope of it, and the size of most settlements that could be found in the ashes, it was more of a country, you had to find the Ferryman. The mystical name given to a simple fisherman who handled the transport from mainland to Nubila in exchange for his solitude. His own sins were beyond question, you did not ask the Ferryman his name, nor did you question his methods or the laws upon his vessel. You simply gave what he asked of you, it was never much, but it was always significant, and he would take you across the waters to be accepted in the waiting arms of the Holders of God. They said that the Ferryman could always be found on the western shore, and that sailing to Nubila was best done in the early morning, so that you could see the sun rise behind your new life, and to do so was an omen of the best kind in the eyes of many. And if you watched carefully, you could see the slanting colors of the crystal and the metal and the wood that made up a city floating in the sea.
Between the bullshit rumors, the stories around broken fire rings and flaming barrels where beggars and families alike huddled for warmth on the twisted mainlands of europe, and the actual journey, the reality of Nubila was almost as beautiful as the myth to a starving child, a broken parent, a shattered man... To see it, to really see the possibility of safety for the next generation floating there amidst the waves, well, you wouldn't care that it was an aircraft carrier, a destroyer, and other large military and commercial vessels welded, tied, and banded together to form the land you would stay upon. You wouldn't mind listening to a sermon and doing a days work so your family could eat and be cared for, and after a week, you wouldn't mind walking into the chapel, to stand amidst the pews of the Holders, and swear fealty to God under panes of bulletproof glass and rust.
Nubila was, in myth, and reality, a bastion of safety and security for most of the people who could make the journey, and those that had never left, the mechanics, soldiers, doctors, and teachers, who had been aboard, or nearby when it was founded, to sit on the safety of deep water and watch as the chaos spread like a wildfire even after the cataclysm. And when Lindsay had found it for the first time, she had thought that all the pain, and the persecution was over... Until she'd heard her first sermon. brought there by the Ferryman, in exchange for the only thing she had to give, her story, Lindsay had revealed, in full truth, that she had grown different from the rest of her family, that through excertion of will alone, she could affect the world around her to a degree, and the Ferryman had listened, quietly and without judgement while she told of the slow death of her family, the member picked off by fire, fear, and death one by one, until she alone made it here, as her father had wanted for her.
The Ferryman said only one thing to her, before taking her to Nubila. "Care my child, your gift is a curse to those aboard the ship. Care." And she had. Taken to the ship, and hearing her first sermon before being assigned a job errecting buildings from scrap metal, Lindsay had learned that day that she must go out of her way to hide what she was, Witches were feared, unnatural creatures, and here, well... running away here would be difficult. So she worked, she said her oaths, and she learned. Forced to eschew her gift in entirety for so long, Lindsay became a capable fighter and brawler, having to look out for herself as she finished growing into maturity, and before long, she caught the eye of a good man, a mercenary.
It would seem odd to have men of war upon a ship that could not be assailed, but their primary job was to head ashore and clear the coasts of the creatures and the bandits who would prey upon those seeking the ferryman, and guide them to him. As well as to keep the peace upon Nubila as a kind of police force. His name was Derek, a kind and hardworking man, good at his trade and willing to teach her everything he knew. Simple respect turned into passion, and passion to love amidst the broken hulls, shantytowns, and residential districts of the floating city, and at 20, they were wed before the eyes of God in the Holder's embrace. Life was good, her husband kind, and the people respected the powerful pairing, thinking it all well, a blessing on Nubila that such a spirited pair would find each other, and under this affection, at 23, Lindsay concieved...
The timing could not have been worse. Derek's success had earned him enemies among rival groups, and he had finally caught the eye and attention of a company with far more control and influence then anyone who would protect him. And one night, their daughter still no more then a babe, armed men descended upon their home with the intent to kill, and well placed bribes turned the eyes of other groups, and on that day, a family was damaged.
It only grew more trying as time passed however, and forced to flee into the bowels of Nubila, into the hulls, and the metal shielding, and the darkness, eventually this proved too much for Derek, and Lindsay was left with nothing more then a note, a child, and the hanging corpse of a man she had loved. Whether from despair or cowardice, a combination of the two, or feelings of regret and failure, he had abandoned Lindsay and the child in the end and once more Lindsay found herself alone.
All was not lost, and Lindsay was strong, she had picked her way over miles and hardships to reach Nubila, she had suffered, alone, and in the darkness beneath the thriving remnants of humanity, she cared and tended to the child who would grow up in shadow. Only when she knew she could reenter Nubila proper, did she dare, and it was under a new name, but now she was forced to rely on old gifts and strange power to hide who she really was, to hide her daughter who shared her gifts from prying eyes, and to keep what little family she had left intact. But such things did not go unnoticed forever and she could smell a change in the air, a terrible and punishing wind was brewing and such thoughts filled a strong woman with dread for a child that could not fathom the cruelty of others in it's entirety.
Today was a special day, it was Recompense, Saturday, the day that all people of Nubila could go to the Holder's of God, in their scarlet robes, and recieve food, and fresh, clean water, and Lindsay made her way amidst the crowd, hidden beneath her shawl, hiding her face from those who could know her to get what she needed to feed the little girl below, hiding among the water vats and brewing still of level 8, far below the platforms and scrap metal buildings of Nubila above. She would have food today, she had promised, and now as she pressed through the people to look at the three men standing there, their robes spread around them and their arms open, she could see what she was after. All she had to do, was lie again, to fool them into thinking she was a woman long since dead, and that she had done her weeks labor...