Post by Tristan White on Feb 14, 2018 10:13:58 GMT -5
It was a horror story. Nothing could have prepared the Gotei for the horrors that awaited them and even though they were prepared for an attack from any known enemy they were defeated by an enemy they never saw coming. The Seritei had been made to crumble and surrender to become a withered husk of its former glory. Where whitewashed pillars once stood now lay broken, algae-ridden towers which still lay stamped with the bloody handprints of the victims. Blood stained pool spots still show where men and women, friends and family had been slumped up against walls as their loved ones tried desperately to keep them alive, the stone paved floors were cracked and had fresh life trying to grow between the unmaintained stone. The whole Seritei looked as though it belonged in a post-apocalyptic warzone but in truth, the enemy had been so subtle they never knew it was there until it was too late. Plague.
Tristan shuddered as he heard his footfalls echo along the long stone pathways leading towards the fifth Division headquarters, the sound made for an eerie companion as he still even now, five years on could hear the coughing and groaning of those inflicted as he among others tried desperately to find a cure or remedy. Through his fifty years of being with the Gotei he had never seen anything like this nor read of any such incident ever having such an affect on the once indomitable power that was the Gotei, but now those who remain are few and far between, desperately scrabbling like rats to maintain patrols, clear the broken streets and try to rebuild their shattered lives. It had all come so suddenly and without warning with a shinigami's memory fading first, subtle signs of not knowing where they were quickly turned to pandemonium with people simply forgetting a name were locked away in quarantine whilst others were hunted like witches. Once the deaths started that was the point that everything began to fall apart as thousands died, those who were unaffected or immune were left with the clean up of an entire city.
All divisions were forced into constant work as building were left overflowing with the bodies of the deceased. Tristan felt the hair on his arms and back of his neck rise as he passed one of the "quarantine body containment" buildings. It was the crudest way of looking at the place but it was to him no more than a mass grave, he knew several of the people in that one building alone who now were little more than a fond memory tarnished by the disaster. He approached the fifth barracks with a feeling of relief as it was one of any a handful of places that still had a feeling of normality still to them, even though it still had shown signs of disrepair the overall facility was in better condition than most places and it was still home and a safe place in these dark times. He made his way to the briefing room where he believed there was to be a meeting for those who wished to attend to express their concerns and overall thoughts on what can be done to attempt to reclaim some of the sanity as well as viewing some of the more severely damaged areas to begin rebuilding.
He tapped his knuckles lightly on the shutter door before having to fight to get the slider to move; "Even the damn doors are broken..." He thought to himself dismally before addressing the room; "Apologies for my late arrival I've just got back from patrol..."
OOC:
595 words
Tristan shuddered as he heard his footfalls echo along the long stone pathways leading towards the fifth Division headquarters, the sound made for an eerie companion as he still even now, five years on could hear the coughing and groaning of those inflicted as he among others tried desperately to find a cure or remedy. Through his fifty years of being with the Gotei he had never seen anything like this nor read of any such incident ever having such an affect on the once indomitable power that was the Gotei, but now those who remain are few and far between, desperately scrabbling like rats to maintain patrols, clear the broken streets and try to rebuild their shattered lives. It had all come so suddenly and without warning with a shinigami's memory fading first, subtle signs of not knowing where they were quickly turned to pandemonium with people simply forgetting a name were locked away in quarantine whilst others were hunted like witches. Once the deaths started that was the point that everything began to fall apart as thousands died, those who were unaffected or immune were left with the clean up of an entire city.
All divisions were forced into constant work as building were left overflowing with the bodies of the deceased. Tristan felt the hair on his arms and back of his neck rise as he passed one of the "quarantine body containment" buildings. It was the crudest way of looking at the place but it was to him no more than a mass grave, he knew several of the people in that one building alone who now were little more than a fond memory tarnished by the disaster. He approached the fifth barracks with a feeling of relief as it was one of any a handful of places that still had a feeling of normality still to them, even though it still had shown signs of disrepair the overall facility was in better condition than most places and it was still home and a safe place in these dark times. He made his way to the briefing room where he believed there was to be a meeting for those who wished to attend to express their concerns and overall thoughts on what can be done to attempt to reclaim some of the sanity as well as viewing some of the more severely damaged areas to begin rebuilding.
He tapped his knuckles lightly on the shutter door before having to fight to get the slider to move; "Even the damn doors are broken..." He thought to himself dismally before addressing the room; "Apologies for my late arrival I've just got back from patrol..."
OOC:
595 words