Post by Coconut on Jan 24, 2009 3:38:57 GMT -5
[shadow=red,left,300]Isla Dakana[/shadow]
Name: Isla Dakana
Age: 19
Race/Affiliation: American.
Weaponry: Rifle, pistol.
Biography: A dead, dead, continent. That is all that remains of America. New York, Washington, Las Vegas, Los Angeles - all gone. All dead and buried deep into the ground to remain as so much twisted scrap metal, glassy sand and chrome, peeking from the barren wasteland all around like the skeletons of some trapped creature, weighed down beneath the black, dusty, sand. The American 'race' is a rare one now, with very few members surviving. There's tell heard of a few in Boston - Canada is the place to flee to, although most in Canada are dead too, yet there are no others if you travel Southwards. A travesty indeed; the Americans stood strong and proud in their day yet, like China, they were brought to their very knees.
Yet I would prefer the fate of America to that of China; although America was ravaged and had it's inhabitants killed, the inhabitants of China suffered a far worse fate. A mutant half life in the desert that was once their nation, they stumble around with little more purpose or coherence than the living dead. Which, in a way, they pretty much are. Whereas America is a sad, empty continent, China reeks only of death and decay. One could survive in America for some time, yet in China they'd suffer a fate worse than death. However let us turn our minds away from such dark matters and now onto the small gem of life within America. Slightly further north than where Detroit used to stand, what do we see now? A small gem of life, a small valley from which humans could survive.
On the shores of one of the Great Lakes - it's name forgotten since the events of the War - mountains caused by the force of nuclear missiles rear up, shielding the small valley and what's inside it. Of course, the temperature in such an area has risen, and the water of the lake is warm and tepid. No animals live within it now; it's an empty lake, clear and warm, with just the plants and fungi in it now. Rearing up the slopes of this valley are a variety of plants and trees, providing all the sustenance needed for a human to thrive, whilst a deer herd inhabit the western sides, amongst the trees there. In the flat valley bottom, green and fresh, a small river winds it's way down to the lake to form a small, sandy delta at the edge. It's a small, surviving spot of beauty, the desert wasteland all around this oasis.
And in the flat bottomed base of this valley stands a small hut, inhabited now by only a young woman, of about nineteen years of age. Yet who is she? Isla Dakana, daughter of an American pilot and a British immigrant to the country. Her father, dead in the war, and her mother, dead in this wilderness, this small babe was raised in this volatile atmosphere, this wasteland in the middle of nowhere, with little knowledge of the outside world. Her grandparents raised her as they were raised themselves, in the hope that she'd one day escape to the main world, to Europe, to build a life of her own in the 'real' world. Nineteen years old, and never yet been kissed. Well, to be quite fair, she's never yet met a man apart from her Grandfather, poor girl. Of course, that's all about to change...
When her grandfather first died, some five years ago, Isla faced the first death of one she loved. It was a new experience to her. Of course, she'd heard all about her parents, yet she'd never met her father and her mother had died when she was very, very, small. When her grandmother died, a few weeks before she turned nineteen, Isla was left alone in this wasteland, to fend for herself. Of course, the area she lived in was pleasant enough, yet who wants to live, alone, anywhere? No one, of course. A pursuit of a different life is something that now calls to Isla; she's an adventurous type. For now, she remains alone in this atmosphere. For now, it's just her and the graves of her mother and grandparents. Yet all that's about to change...