Wandering Lost, Found Too Late

Wandering Lost

                When the world decided to put a stop to the disease known as homo sapien, it worked almost too well around the time the countries decided to go to war with each other. From what past records and papers all spoke of, something went off and blacked out the entire world. It wasn't supposed to go so far, but it worked worldwide and everything went mad. Just how bad? Cities became empty overnight, people rushed and went into the last walled city that somehow stayed all these years: Eden.

Controlled by the remnants of a powerful religion, people began to forget history, and only spoke of what the "Book" says, how the clergymen spoke of it, and how their Word became the Law. With the clergymen came the resurrection of their enforcement, their supposed "Angels of the Lord": dragon riders. Clad in armor made from the scales of their dragons, they patrol the city and its people, watching over for any and all lawbreakers and Heratics. These were considered the worst of all law-breaking people, ones that defied the religion to the face of both the Church and their Riders and kept to their ancestral magicks and religions far older. Rumors of the City spread throughout the wastes, drawing in lost, wandering souls to its gates but only a few stayed away from the danger it possessed. Only one has survived the test of time, one legend passed on from the ruins of Eden's ruins: the Wandering Heratic.

This is their story...

Every day started the same, not much changing if Salem managed to sleep the night away without a single incident. Stirring at first light, they grabbed their pack to sling over their back, rolling up their thin blankets, and standing up to watch the sunrise. At one time, it used to entice them, bringing a sense of peace and relaxation watching the colors erupt across the sky, but now it simply reminded them it was another day of scavenging and trying to survive. At this point, Salem wanted to survive, to outlast every last damned thing to prove nothing could take them out. They lived out of pure spite, no matter the gangs they came across, the beasts that tried to kill, or the strangers that would attempt to kidnap them in the middle of the night. Salem even long forgot their family, anything from a time before the Wastes they wandered every day. At some point, they were positive they had a mom and dad, had to- to be born, simple biology there, but no memory crept up. No faces or names came to their mind of what their parents might've been, or where they were born. Having survived and dredged the remnants of humanity, Salem almost believed they popped out of the ground like a weed.

Salem was an enigma, especially to many of the strangers who tried to find out more about the wandering scavenger. Long dark hair carefully twisted and pulled up behind a mess of scarves and tucked under their leather coat, pale skin marred by scars crisscrossing over their face but hardly softening the cold, gray eyes they held. Keeping most of their body hidden by tough work clothes and leather coat, only one detail stood out among the wanderers Salem came across: a silver chain connected to a tiny birdcage. Anyone that was allowed to see inside the birdcage were usually never seen or heard from again, but most figured out Salem from the studded jacket and matching mask over their mouth, and the telltale crow staff in their hands.

Salem tried to stay away from people, but sometimes, they found themselves drawn into the wandering tribes and roaming Nomads across the Wastes. Fires at night were dangerous, but with at least a party of people, it meant safety, possibly food, and a chance to learn more information about the so-called "City of God". Salem never put much stock into religion, choosing more to keep on their toes and survive by their wits and memory of weather patterns throughout the year, but often the elders couldn't resist telling of their gods and goddesses, giving them blessings and tokens to keep Salem safe from the outside forces. Salem would typically nod, give thanks to their patrons, as custom and courtesy, but kept the menagerie of necklaces under the coat and close to their heart, along with their biggest secret.