A campfire had illuminated the night sky, and creatures similar to crickets filled the air with sound it could easily make someone fall asleep, something he could not afford, not out here, if it were up to him he would be walking straight to next settlement or safe haven and rest there, but as the night invites cover, it also invites creatures, as an experienced huntsman, he could drive off the occasional Beowulf pack or lone Ursa on his own, but Giant Scorpions? Fire Breathing Ants? And 'Super Mutants'? He wished, engaging in Melee combat against these natural wildlife? It would actually be better if you just bought a gun and shot yourself with it if the stories are to be believed, his first few days were... Interesting, he almost lost his head by Bandits they were at a disadvantage, little combat experience, improper weapon maintenance gave him the edge against them, Cannibals, Zombie-like creatures that roamed the ruins of once great cities, the aforementioned Dangerous wildlife, and to top it all off, He was illiterate and he couldn't communicate with the locals to trade or to ask questions, but he knew that if these people were smart enough or really lucky to survive the end of the world, and then... Someone came into his life her, taught him everything he now knew about the world, language, culture (or what's left of it), literature, first aid, science, and history, until something happened.
His travels throughout the area, gave him curiosity and fear.
Fear if this would happen to Remnant, he could find a way to delay or if possible stop it.
He was still unsure of what he did, as he took out an old battered canteen and stared into the faded bright yellow Thirteen.
_____
A stranger covered in cloth, wearing a hat that had holes in it's shade, which he used to protect himself from the blistering heat of the Death Ray that is the sun, he was thirsty, his makeshift waterskin made from a cleaned skin of a two headed-cow was almost empty, he didn't know where the next town was going to be or how far it was, the map he had scavenged from the ruins of a small city was useless, it was outdated, and he sure as hell couldn't ask anyone.
He was afraid that he was going to die soon, if not of a stray bullet in a shootout that barely started or a wild animal, it's definitely because of dehydration but then... Hope. A town it reminded him of the frontier towns back home multiple buildings side by side on the side of a road that goes through the middle of the town.
He hoped that it was populated atleast.
He entered the saloon, thank God.
The person behind the counter, who cleaned one a large mug with a rag.
The bartender had worn the usual dusty old hand-me-downs from their long dead ancestors not like you could make new clothes in this post apocalyptic world, who knows? The technology might have been lost to time.
"We don't get many travelers 'round these parts, only some caravans and travelin' merchants, and you don't look like neither, but business is business, what can I get ya?" Said the Bartender as he put the mug under the counter and placed both his hands on the table as if to prop himself up.
The Stranger only said nothing as he walked to the counter and placed his waterskin on the counter and pointed to the bottles of clean water on the shelf.
The bartender nodded as he understood what he wanted him to do, he took the waterskin from the counter over to a still which had the words 'Water'(or what he had assumed was he didn't bother) on a piece of wood that was tacked on the previous word, which had the distinguishable letters of B and E
"Not much of a talker are ya?" The bartender tried to start a conversation with him.
Still no answer.
