Death and Decay in the Dead Empire

[God Bebi Satan]

Nobody remembers what this nation was called. Nor does anyone know this nation's history; all the records were lost in the war.The civil war broke it up into two nameless states, and ultimately destroyed everything.



The Great Capital was where everything ended. The Acolytes of the New God made the final push against the Technocracy. Neither side won, leaving the city broken and decayed against the smog-filled sky.The remnants of the war are all still there- the twisted fighting machines and the strange magics of the acolytes still remain in that tremendous decayed city. The secrets of the empire died that day, leaving anything of value to deteriorate within the deepened recesses of the many buildings that used to be so full of life. And then came people searching for riches and purpose. Some have made fortunes from this.
You came searching for something; anything.

We are trapped in this pitiful machine and the machine is dying.

The cities of the fracture

Gold Gate Station: The train tunnels of The Fracture run over EVERY mile of what used to be the empire. People wander these tunnels now for pre-fracture supplies. Golden Gate Station is the largest settlement for these  looting folk.

Chemist's Row: The largest medical community in t̵̡͙̞̝̥̮͒͂̏́̈́h̛̪̠̓ě͈̻ͫ̉́͛͘ ̶̹̗͖͈̱͙̲͚͆ͥ͗ͫe̵̸͖̳̫̒̆ͮ́m͆̆ͬͪ̔ͤ̾҉̸̛̫p̬̩̠̙̝͖̩ͫͧͨͤ́i̢̯̯̲̣̙̲̭̮̾͒ͪͬͫ̂ͬ͋̈͝r̵̈́̀̏ͫ͐͐̐҉̷̹̪̩̻̞̰͙̫e̵̲͇͖̞̯̩̻̓̒̆͟ ̠͖̤̠̙͉̺͍̯͗ͯ̄̏̿ͥ̔ͧ́A̠͖̥̪̗̣ͯ͌A̶̭̲̹̳͈̿̒̾͗̈́ͤ͒̀̀̚Ả͙̦̲̼̯͋ͩ̍H̵̠͕̞̥̦̲̪̯̿̊͋̋Ǧ̲̻̭̥̪̲Ä̼̜̟͉́ͣͬ̀͛͞A͙̮̥͕̋̆ Is the [KEY:MEDICINE] working? I [ABSTRACT:FEAR] not. [KEY:MEDICINE] is the only
[ITEM:THING] keeping [ENTITY: US] [STATUS:HEALTHY]

Transiton: The bridge reaches from the great capital to the market district, making it the longest bridge in the nation. Following collapse, a town has formed in the center of the bridge, leading to a relatively populated settlement containing some of the empire's stranger examples of life.

Drown: The ocean is beautiful, we descend into its depths to witness the glories of the water. We bring the water into our lungs to become one with the ocean. We are all drowning. We are drowning.  Drowning. Drown.

The Market District: Money switches hands, the broken relics of The Fracture swap between broken shoppers. Cash is king and the king is angry. They've run out of the medicine.

The Great Capital: THE MACHINES HAVE CLAIMED WHAT LITTLE REMAINS. DO NOT RETURN TO HERE.

Mashina: Nobody knows what the machine was made for. It sprawls across the greater east of the Empire. They live within, attempting to complete something that will never be finished.

The Holyland: You've heard nothing of this so-spoken promised land. The native are all jumpy at any mention of it and all of the 'tourists' are just as afraid as the natives. You do not know the location of this place and looking for it will only lead you in the wrong direction.

Entropy: VISIONS. PULSATING THROBS. LOBE EXPANSION. IMMENSE PRESSURE. PAIN OF SUBMERSION. YOU WILL WATCH DEATH DIE.WHEN THE DESTRUCTION IS COMPLETE, WHEN WE HAVE FINALLY SWALLOWED ALL THERE IS, WE WILL CRAWL INTO THE RECESSES OF OUR DEAD TECHNOLOGY. THE SOUND OF CREAKING SKULL AGAINST RIPPING FLESH. THE SKYLINE TWISTS WITH THE DEATH OF ALL WHO SEE IT.

You are a tourist in a place that needs no tourism. It went like this.

In your travels you come across a pale being, twisted and wounded by the forces of this nation.
"I fear you don't understand. Nothing is left. When the Dedson Empire returns with aid, I'll make sure to send you a letter. What is your name?" he asks you, withdrawing a small notebook from the blood-soaked hide bag around his bone white sternum.

"You carry things with you, I know you do. I feel it in the back of my skull, describe them to me, would you? Detail them to me, describe."

"Describe to me what you look like; my eyesight isn't what is used to be. I removed my eyes for clarity some time ago. You sound strong, you are strong, no? I do hope you're not strong."

"You are heading somewhere, yes? You couldn't possibly be wanting to spend your time beside me, reminiscing, talking....cuddling. So tell me where you are leaving to. Perhaps our paths may cross again."




DEATH AND DECAY IN A DEAD NATION, AN ISRP ABOUT THE COLLAPSE OF SOCIETY AND THE MADNESS THEREAFTER
PRODUCED BY SOME PEOPLE

[vammy]

" I am Ivar Ragnarsson, a traveler like you."

" Don't ponder what I have, it's none of your business what I carry." (He has a map in reasonable condition and a steel shortsword at his hip)

" I am a short bulky man with long wavy red hair, my beard is great and wonderous, I have had it braided and cleaned before I came here. My eyes are brown and my teeth are yellow. I wear a large plaid sweatshirt on my chest and a wooden helm at head, on my feet there are leather boots for when I march."

"I'm starting a new life in Transition, and no I don't wish to see you once I get there. Nosy pale one."

[llama]

"I need not your letter, cur." I, Gracia Crude, answered this. Help will only put you in debt later and I'm sure someone of this man's type would request help upon my acceptance of his offer. 

"A shotgun to shove up your ass and a body bag to gather your remains." This is said with a smile. Excursion of the damned, those damned by madness, is always a pleasant thought for me. I did indeed have a shotgun and a body bag; the body bag filled with smaller bags of food, traveling tools, and other marauder necessities. The shotgun is filled with.. well.. shotgun shells.

I stared him down, not gracing him with a reply. My auburn bangs fell down upon my right eye, doubly concealed by the glasses a blind man would wear, while the other side of my hair is buzz cut. I have a nose ring, a little skull, and ringed spider bite piercings. I wear a long coat that conceals my feminine curves and other defining features of a woman. This coat also is the keep of my shotgun and hides a tight leather vest and pants, my other pieces of clothing. Military boots, steel toed, point out from the bottom of the coat.

With a spit onto the man's boot, I answer, "I have decided to take it upon myself to purge the insurgencies of madness within the Gold Gate Station. Any who I deem not fit for this world due to a lacking mental capacity will be granted salvation by means of a blast to the head."