Category : Books-Fiction

Sub Category : Science Fiction

Even before the great war, travelling was dangerous. Foreign territory, unknown threats, vulnerability, uncertainties. Being somewhere unfamiliar was always something we took displeasure in, but at least society granted us some form of stability through law and order. It wasnt always the most fair of concepts but it held us together and suppressed our primal nature, seperating us from our former animalistic selves. However, it does not take much for a sentient lifeform to revert back to its lesser self, especially when it is forced into a new and stressful environment in which it must survive, to survive is to adapt and sometimes adapting can mean connecting with our primitive side.
And thus came The Great War, the catalyst of the fall of man. A war that despite only lasting 6 months, devastated and devoured mankind. Leaving us close to becoming just another extinct species  that has walked upon the earth. Nobody remembers why The Great War happened, some believe it was some kind of chemical attack, some believed it was God whilst others just believed it to be human error. Whatever the reason, billions died and those who were left were either alive or afflicted. Thats what we called them, the Afflicted. The hollow remains of those infected by the chemical parasite. The symptoms of which included bleeding at the eyes, physical decay, intense rage and cannibalism. Although, I guess it isnt cannibalism when you are no longer of that species. They were something the human race had never seen before; they were near impossible to kill, the parasite had some how manipulated the hosts body, taking over the spinal cord and nervous system, leaving the rest of the body to decay and die slowly. Even a bullet to the face wouldnt put one down, it had to be mutalation or destruction of the spine. Evidently, our bullets didnt do as much damage as we had hoped. They tore thorugh us like a blade thorugh skin, it wasnt long until they were outnumbering us. Humanity fell.
After a few years the pandemonium silenced and so did the world. No noise, just silence and the remnants of our former society. Regardless of the silence most of what was left of mankind banded together into small outposts to up their chances of survival, some kind and helpful, others not so much. 
Now, due to the dangers wandering the world, most people never stray far from home, in fear of running into the Afflicted or worse, however, there are still those out there who take the ultimate risk and wander the wastes, looking for answers or just looking for their own way. These people are called the Nomads, they drift from place to place surviving on their own, fighting the afflicted and those who would cross them. The very essence of being a Nomad is the risk and the danger involved. It is a path not many take because to be a Nomad is to be fearless and callous. To them it is just a dog-eat-dog world, although well behaved when visiting outposts, but not many of those who have crossed a Nomad in the wastes have lived to tell the tale. Like I said, its a dog-eat-dog world. 
Im telling you this because tales are all we have now, no books, no movies, no music. Its all about the legends you pass on from one to another and this is my legend. I am Blood Whisper and I am Nomad.