#indrid webb

Moving out of what remains of Oregon, things only get stranger. Arizona and Texas and deserts -like before- only now pits have appeared, revealing only darkness below. Rock juts out in odd formations, and several pieces are defying gravity all together. Sand running down to the mainland below, like a never ending hourglass. Often viewers will find themselves lost staring at the running sand, wondering where it’s coming from, where it goes, and why it hasn't stopped. When they finally look away the sun is almost set, their mouths are dry, and their legs are shaky. Who knows how long they had been standing there.

Even hotter are the wastelands. The ground ashen and devoid of all but the harshest of vegetation. The earth cracked and warbled, a glow of fire between the cracks. The earth itself is uncomfortably warm to the touch, heated from the magma below. Anyone who attempts to traverse the terrain must watch their step, lest they lose their footing and burn themselves. However they must also keep their eyes towards the sky, in case the winged beasts above decide that they are prey.

(Concept art of the wastelands below)

The great plains have cracked, crashed, and rose, affected by some cataclysmic earthquake. Leaving steep thousand foot drop offs into pools of purple liquid that the new creatures of this world drink from. It’s gorgeous, and breathtaking, and almost seems peaceful, until someone spots the large lumbering creatures below. No one wants to get close enough to find out if they’re peaceful or not.

(Concept art of the plains below)

Not everyone is gone from the world before. Pockets of safety, settlements and stragglers exist. Those that can adapt quickly survive. Those who've ended up alone struggle their way through wastelands or fallen cities, devoid of other human connection. Scavenging in abandoned shops for supplies, while avoiding the monsters that lurk. Those in small colonies lend much better social lives to say the least, but they're terrified to wander outside the walls. And their scrambled together hierarchy system is bound to crumble soon if nothing is done.

New things are changing everyday, humans are shifting and morphing in ways that their body and mind wishes to reject, sprouting new limbs, fur, gaining strange elemental powers that they have no clue how to control, or if they even can. They all just want it to stop, and the fates would agree with them, if someone wasn’t meddling in the background…

THE WANDERERS

The gods aren’t supposed to step in, they’re supposed to set things up, sit back and watch it all play out. They’re supposed to be the directors of the play, not act in it. But when a mortal tries to rise to the status of the gods, and becomes power hungry in the process, their hands are forced. But there are rules for this sort of thing. A council is brought together, and each of them choose one being. One individual with the qualities they deem fit to save the world from total ruin.

Two unsure boys.

One timid, and doomed to death before the adventure even begins, but bright and clever. Daemen

The other hot headed, angry at the world, (and rightly so), but strong willed, and charismatic when need be. Max

One excited girl.

Naive and loud, but friendly, loyal, and has a damn good right hook. Juniper

And one terrified individual

Stubborn, and a little selfish, but quick, honest, and learning how to care again. Indrid Webb

They’re finding their footing, scared and stumbling. However, the gods have faith that they will complete their task in time. They have to. It’s not like saving the world come with a backup plan.

(The Wanderers, first image, from left to right, Juniper, Indrid, Daemen, Max)