Disclaimer: I don't own any of it. Mr. Knight is just kind enough to let me play in his world.
o:o:o
2022: The reign of man has ended. Natural disasters on an unprecedented scale rock the world. Add to this devastation the maddening Ravies virus, a global plague that wiped out billions in only a few days and left only a shell of an already-teetering world structure.
Into this hell came the Reapers. Heavily hooded and cloaked figures that seized control without mercy, killing all those who would oppose the new order. In other places Grog armies marched into the cities, quickly crushing any and all resistance.
Last to fall were the nuclear strikes, only to be employed as a last resort, reducing the major cities of the United States to nothing more than a shambles. Washington burned, the Vice President fled, and the President himself committed suicide when his family succumbed to Ravies.
The world has been thrown back into the Dark Ages. Kurian Lords use their Reapers to feed on the lives of the humans under their control. They resemble the great Medici and Borgia families of Italy in that they are always squabbling and traitorous. Nothing is sacred to them.
Technology has degraded to a nineteenth century levels. Though there are radios, phones, and vehicles, they are rare reasons to stop and stare. It is as common to see a horseman galloping along the road as a courier, as it once was to see a car driving down the same stretch of highway.
Most of humanity is depressed and miserable. Some have sold themselves out to their new Lords in exchange for protection, but that is a fleeting thing. Other peoples still oppose them. In the Ozark Free Territory, they are called the Hunters.
A specially-created group of people, the Hunters are divided into three castes, the Wolves, the Cats, and the Bears. Working from Southern Command, high in the Ozark Plateau, it is their duty to protect the Free Territory and oppose Kurian rule with all that they are.
o:o:o
The Smokey Mountains Strongholds, October of the forty-first year of the Kurian Order: Miles and miles of unbroken timber stretch out in all directions, covering the remains of the few homesteads now being reclaimed by the wilderness. Only wildlife trails cross these mountains, separating the coast from the rest of the continent. Land once belonging to the poorest Appalachian peoples now belongs to the animals that roam the hills.
Small glades still bear the evidence of farming attempts. A few pockets of tall corn or piles of vegetables ready for the fall harvest wait patiently for no one's return. But mostly, it's no-mans-land. Life in the mountains is too difficult for most, and they've moved off to be collected into some Quisling's labor camp. Rusted pickup trucks and abandoned two-room houses are decrepit and overgrown with plants. Nature is slowly recovering what was once hers.
A small figure wends her way through the trees and overgrowth as though she was a deer. Moving quickly, she darts through the trees and rocks, scaling the mountain at unnatural speed.. Despite her speed, she moves with supple grace gained from years of traveling long distances on foot. A herd of deer don't even notice her and scatter only after she's past. She blends so well into her surroundings, it's hard to see her. Dark haired with light copper skin, she looks like an ancestor on the Apache side of her father's ancestry, except for her icy-blue eyes which are constantly moving and wary.
o:o:o