I just woke up from a fucking nasty-creepy dream. Remember that promise I made about posting every dream I could remember? Oh yeah.
Okay, the dream started out like an opening cut scene from your average survival horror/post-apocalyptic game. Showing a little of the terrain and some of the beasties off. Imagine a forest road with lush green trees, that have these putrid pussy strips of foulness hanging from the branches. Now imagine that these bloated strips of tissue are actually organ of a creature that separates itself intentionally to hunt. Then imagine these organs wrapping themselves around a passer-by and infect them, this infection turning them into sentient beasts of extreme intelligence and strength. Sinew-wrapped giant creatures of extreme endurance and wisdom. A race of mutants with their own technology and religion. Then, there’s the poisoned zombies, which retained all of their human intelligence and problem solving skills. They can use guns, open doors, drive vehicles and overcome obstacles just as good as they ever could. Hunting and hungry, they eat just like normal, but driven mostly mad by the poison and radiation. Radiation from the humans defending themselves from an alien invasion of epic proportion. The aliens, a cybernetically enhanced race of humanoid animals, fought with devious tactics and interesting particle weapons, but they were not immune to kinetic weapons and died pretty good.
Now, all of this, in a slightly irradiated world, three hundred years after the invasion. A world not wracked with strife, but overgrown with vegetation and lacking in any development. A world returned mostly to nature. A world similar to Fallout; just not brown, green.
The Ephemeral : These corrupted creatures of great wisdom came about due to mutation just after the end of the war. The festering corpses were eaten by leeches or something, and they mutated under the radiation, and formed a cognitive hive-mind. This hive mind figured out it could pass on it’s “gift” by enough of these mutated leeches latching onto a host and basically embedding themselves into it’s tissues. A process known to the non-ephemerals as corruption. They call it “Convalescence”. Their technology is mostly tribal and runic, leading more to the supernatural than to anything else. Certain individuals within their tribes can create ethereal way-gates that link the tribes physically, just as they are linked mentally. The convalescing process turns the victim into either a larger version of itself with over-scaled limbs, or it shreds them into a smaller version of themselves. These smaller ones call themselves the Topric chosen, as they are not exactly built for combat. They run the society’s framework, do all the harvesting, the chasing, the researching. Their numbers large, they form the peaceful aspect of each tribe. Often trading with the humans or ferals for goods and food. The Ephemerals do not seek combat, but they also do not shrink from defense.
The Zombies (Ooooh Spooky): The poisoned zombies are a side-effect from the nerve agents the ferals used, and the radiation the nuclear weapons the humans used. Talk about one hell of a nasty cocktail. These nasty, aggressive and relentless creatures lend their combat tactics to the derelict, as they are not particularly good at organized combat, but their smaller squads can do some serious damage. Perfectly capable of doing everything they could before, they are further enhanced to a resistance to radiation, toxic and caustic agents and their skin has toughened greatly. Other than a leather textured skin and a nasty green or yellow complexion, they look perfectly normal from a distance. Up close, they’re ugly and angry freaks with no desire to talk. All they want is what you got and they’ll do no less than kill you to get it.
The Ferals : SPACE INVADERS! They came in on their big tree-like ships, putting the gun before the pen. Most of the ferals are predator animals, like large felines and canines. Very few prey animals make up their ranks due to their aggressive nature. Their post-war outlook is that they won, and the humans are their slaves. Their technology is more natural and bases itself around stealth and hit and run tactics, supporting their hunting instincts. Their weaponry consists of particle weapons that have seen better days. The ferals on Earth are stranded and cannot get supplies, so they use what they find.
The Humans : Well, we survived the war, and are STILL developing weapons to defeat the invaders, it’s just now that we have the poisoned zombies and the Ephemerals to deal with. The mutated Ephemerals aren’t high on the list, but they’re high enough for them to know about it. The humans trade with them when it’s beneficial, slowly building tolerance for them, and some of the lead thinkers think the zombies can be convinced that they’re still normal humans and some believe it could work. Their post-war outlook is that they defended themselves staunchly, and are willing to make peace with the ferals if they will surrender unconditionally.
The events I saw were for what I take as about half-way through the war, these heavy MI-25 lookin’ helicopters were saturation bombing areas with small nuclear charges. It could’ve been who I was in the dream, or I was just watching some guy, but he was protecting his little sister by carrying her through some trees, on their way to a small abandoned warehouse. He got her inside, and they hid in a wrecked van for a few hours until the bombing stopped. After a few minutes of silence, he stood up and looked around. An eerie quiet had set in, and he picked up a nearby tire iron and went to look around. He told his sister to stay in the van, under the bench seat. He slowly walked around the building, closing windows and locking them, checking door locks, anything to close the place up quietly. He walked up to two offices, and saw a trail of red blood. He followed it up to a door and he slowly opened it, his heart beating out of his chest. He held the tire iron ready as the light from the open door spilled into the room, illuminating the body of a female feral cat, which appeared to be mortally wounded, blood pouring out of a wound on her left side. He slowly walked up on her, the sharp end of the tire iron ready. She coughed, and blood spurted from her mouth. She looked to be dying, but he didn’t care. He saw her weapon a few inches from her hand and he kicked it away. She opened her eyes slowly, focusing on the shadowy figure. He remained silent, watching her as she slowly lifted herself as best she could. She spoke in her tongue, raspy and with great fatigue. He shook his head and said “I’m not on your side, but I’m not going to hurt you.” She slumped back on the floor, expecting to receive a death blow. She waived a hand in the air, beckoning her end. He slid the tire iron into his waist and scooped her up off of the ground and carried her to the wrecked van, where he began dressing her wounds. She swiped at him a few times, and he did his best to stay out of the way of her claws. She eventually just gave up on it and lied there, shortly going to sleep. A few days pass, and she wakes up. She panics a bit, then winces as the throbbing pain in her side. She looks about as she notices the blanket covering her. The man walks up to her slowly. “I didn’t think it was safe to move you, so I gave you that blanket to keep you warm.” He stops just short of the bumper. “I also brought you some food. Hell I don’t know why I’m talking to you, you probably don’t understand a word.” He offers her a styrofoam plate with a sandwich on it. She sits up slowly and takes it. “I understand you fine. Why are you helping me?” He shrugs and sits down on the bumper. “Well, your people may have invaded us.” He sighs and rubs his face slowly, having not been awake long. “But I don’t think you’re doing it because you want to. You’re just following orders.” She slowly took a bite of the sandwich. It wasn’t much, just bologna. “Sorry that’s not too good, but it’s the best we have.” She ate slowly and looked him over. “I’m..I was Sergent Jack Hargrave. That little girl hiding by that machine over there is Jessica, my sister.” He waives to Jessica, who didn’t move. The feral woman looks at the half-eaten sandwich and she sits it down. “I am Officer Arista. I am a strike co-ordination spotter.” Jack nodded and stood up, that’s when Arista noticed the pistol belt he had on. She looked at it, then at him quickly. He looked at her expression, then down at his waist. “Oh! This. Sorry about that. I got it from a passing squad. Told them I had my family held up in here, and we needed some guns. He let me have his pistol.” Uneasily, she searched her garments for hers and Jack pulled it out of his waist. “Looking for this?” He looked at it for a second, and offered it to her. Arista slowly grabbed it and Jack let go. “It wouldn’t be fair if I had a means to defend myself and you didn’t.” He folded his arms across his chest. “We’ve got to–” He was cut off by a crashing sound from outside. He turned quickly and reached for his pistol. Arista pointed hers at the back of his head. “That would be my recovery.” Jack turned to her quickly and saw the very gun he just gave back to her, pointed at him. With a sigh he said “Well, go ahead then.” Jessica ran up to him and hugged his leg, crying. Arista slowly lowered it. “It wouldn’t be sporting to shoot you in the face like that.” She slid the pistol under her shit, into it’s holster. “I spared you. Remember that.” Jack grinned. “Well well well. Don’t I feel special?” As he finished his sentence, the warehouse door opened and dozens of U.S. Soldiers poured in, each pointing their rifles at the feral. Jack pointed his finger at Arista. “And I spared you.” He made a motion in the air with his hands, and the soldiers lowered their weapons, and walked up to the machine that Jessica was hiding behind. Arista stared at Jack, anger and fear mounting. One of the soldiers pressed a few buttons on the machine, and the floor opened up a few feet from it, revealing a stairwell. “Well Arista, let’s go.” He offered her a hand and she took it. “You need better treatment than I can offer out here.”
And that’s all that I recovered. Not bad eh?
