Scottie Erikson

Scottie's Story

An old man rummaging through the ruins of a great library looking for stories and artifacts from a more simple time. He’s almost hysterical, and he feels foreign to this new world. He does not know that there may be survivors at all, and he feels a sense of complete isolation.

 

A woman with her back against a wall, unable to run, is forced into a corner, because her leg is still bleeding from the chase the night before. She would normally love the fight, but her adrenaline has been depleted from hours of being hunted, and now she’s just left with fear.

 

A scholar and a wiseman, completely out of his element, steps carefully with grace through the jungle. He remains still on his branch, waiting patiently for passerby.

 

What do these people have in common? They were saved by Scottie Erikson.

 

Reginald Solborne lacked the foresight to save his own family, and has found himself immersed into a world completely unrecognizable.

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Carrie Ridley lacked strength in numbers, and found herself out-manned by a pack of dire birds, who loomed over with wicked talons, waiting for her to collapse.

 

Mateus Lazelai lacked strength, no matter his intellect or wisdom he could not carry his own weight.

 

Each of these people needed someone to depend on in some way.

 

A hero presented himself to them: Scottie Erikson.

 

People who encountered Scottie described him as a herculean figure, someone larger than life. Stories of wanderers tracing the outside of the jungle have had experiences with a mysterious benefactor who showered them with food and camouflaged rags.

 

Refugees fleeing the badlands and the fires have run into a man “of epic proportions” to quote a group of survivors, who had given them shelter and Goldberry wine.

 

When Reginald met Scottie in the library, he saw something in Scottie’s eyes. Before the calamity, the world was populated with people who carried with them great ambitions.

 

There were systems and resources in place to enable certain people to live out their dreams and pursue their passions. Predictably, when this system collapsed, and the wars broke out, this very special fire that existed in everyone around the world was extinguished.

 

Even before the calamity, existence was reduced to survival. But Reginald saw something inside of Scottie that he hadn’t seen in anyone else: That desire to live. They spent countless hours trading stories. Reginald would tell a story of the world before the calamity, filled with details and tangents about his family, and then Scottie would take his own turn telling Reginald about all of the wonderful people he’s met by travelling.

 

They’ve spent entire nights with laughter, tears, and antics. Reginald felt for the very first time like he met someone who shared the same dream he had: To have a family again.

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Carrie Ridley found herself completely cornered against a cliff-face in the jungle. She had been ambushed from her camp in the canopy, suspended in the air by ropes and vines. A pack of dire birds, these large vulture-like animals with crescent-shaped claws and beaks the length of a great-sword, had ambushed Carrie from her camp.

 

She was smart enough to know by now that she ought to sleep during the days when it was safe, spending her primary waking hours during dusk, nighttime, and a bit into the morning to replenish on food.

 

At night, she moved slowly across the treetops, staying silent and remaining aware of her surroundings. The birds weren’t supposed to be here during the cold season. They should be further South, somewhere past the channel. Either she’s been tracking her days wrong, which is impossible, or something is happening further South that’s driving them back to the jungle.

 

They clawed and tore at her camp. Her adrenaline and survival instinct were enough to get her to abandon camp and get on the ground. She ignited a fire behind her in the canopy and threw spears into the hearts of some of the birds; A perfect shot.

 

But as she ran and evaded the monsters through dawn and into the morning, she found herself completely spent. She hadn't eaten or drank anything in hours, and her leg was badly wounded from her escape from the tree. It’s a miracle in itself that she even made it this far. Five dire birds hovered closely above her, driving their claws into the rock.

 

She couldn’t sit here forever, and the avian creatures could smell her fear.

 

"Is this death? Is this what it all was for? Did I really kill all of those beasts, steal from all of those people, and drag myself over the burning coals of the craters just to die by the hands of fucking birds?"

 

"There has got to have been something greater…"

 

What she hadn’t expected was for a fireball to emerge from over the cliff above her and to strike the birds, incinerating a few, and scaring the rest away.

 

A man towered above her, with his own hands glowing a bright orange, as his robes flowed in the wind. Another hero came to his side and quickly scaled the 15 feet of cliff-face below him, coming to Carrie’s aid.

 

She was suspicious, and angry, that she had survived by these mysterious men's mercy. She could kill them, definitely kill them. Especially the old guy up top, not enough fireballs in the world could be fast enough to burn a cavern-root spear. But she was wounded, and she knew that if they wanted to kill her, they would’ve done so by now.

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The younger one explained to Carrie that they needed someone to help them navigate the jungle and keep away the birds. The older guy, Reginald, was foreign to this new world, and was inexperienced in evading its many dangers. The younger one, Scottie, seemed earnestly like he needed her assistance.

 

Scottie was always good at that, he was naturally inviting and comforting. Although fit for surviving this world, he seemed a little out of place. His cheeriness and altruism contrasted against the world’s background of overgrowth and Armageddon created a sharp image of someone who seemed completely unbothered by the world’s elements.

 

He promised Carrie medicine in exchange for her help. Reginald confided with Scottie that judging from her wounds, she might be out of fighting form for at least a month. They might be able to convince her to stay in that time.

 

After being invited back to camp, which was protected by a warding glyph created by Reginald and positioned in the mouth of a cave above the canopy, Carrie got her first real night’s of rest in years.

 

She awoke the next morning to the smell of roasted berries and herbs, waiting for her to prepare the dire birds they just killed, and felt an ease and peace she hasn’t felt her entire life

 

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Mateus washed himself ashore on the gulf coast of the Channel. He had two days before the eclipse, as he predicted, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the life he left behind. He had parents, elders, and a real community.

 

He had a sense of home, which is a luxury most survivors can't afford. He left it all behind to save himself, because he could not save the others. He thumbed a sharp rock around in his pocket, which reminded him of the sting of betrayal. He paced forward from the beach and past the dunes, deeper into the jungle.

 

He hadn’t been here before, and heard only tales of its beasts and carnivorous plants from wanderers up North. Nothing he ever heard had prepared him for this. It seemed like life in a dead zone would be safer than where he was right now, but he had to move forward. He needed food.

 

He sheepishly entered the jungle.

 

The canopy blocked out the sun, and in combination with the partial eclipse, he was almost engulfed in complete darkness. He needed to get to high ground. He suspected he was already being watched.

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He managed to climb a spiraling Elder Tree, fitting his worn shoes into the nooks and crevices of the sharp trunk. He fit himself into an awkward position in the tree line, but managed to secure himself from falling. He sat there, patiently, laying an ambush.

 

He laid a contractive net along the ground, made of vines such that it’d blend in with the jungle floor. Mateus scattered some berries and fruits along the trap, hoping to attract some lumbering beast of the jungle. He pulled his robe over his shoulders with its false eyes facing behind him, towards the treetops.

 

His mask now on his face, he fixed himself directly across from the trap. He waited. And waited. Slowly, now comfortable in his leafy cushion, Mateus drifted to sleep.

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His ill-timed nap was abruptly interrupted by thrashing and screaming. Weary and excited to feast, he looked down instead to find himself having captured a pair of wanderers. One of them was stout and bulky. He wore thin fabrics, had a large curly beard, and a bouldering frame.

 

The other was an older man with surreally long hair and an eyesore of an outfit. It was thick and decorative. He seemed oddly out of place here.

 

Mateus slowly crept down the side of the trunk. The men spotted him as he slid down. Mateus didn’t have any weapons, but felt confident here knowing the men were powerless, constrained in his thorny prison.

 

He reached out his hand to rummage through the older one’s leather sack, trying to snag some food. They tried to plead with him, but he didn’t bother to listen. It had been days since Mateus ate any real meat, and it was high time to finally treat himself.

 

Just as he began to lift the sack out (all the while the old man was thrashing and wriggling) a pole came cracking over his wrist. The wood splintered over his arm and the pain was unbearable.

 

Mateus recoiled back, taking a wide stance close to the floor. An Amazonian woman was standing over him, her spear having just slammed against his arm so blisteringly hard that he began to bleed. They stared each other down for a few moments. He scanned her.

 

She was taller than him, would probably make faster strides, and was definitely from the jungle. There’s no way he could outrun her, and she’d probably kill him before he’d get the chance to hide.

 

Mateus sighed and lifted his mask. He dropped the foodstuff onto the ground and gave a pathetic glance towards the woman. She scoffed at him, almost as if she was annoyed once she got behind his mask, and she promptly slashed through the net to let her friends go.

 

“You’ve got to do a much better job at this. That was pitiful.” She said to Mateus. She continued, “I’m shocked you haven’t been killed yet.” For the woman, this was both a statement of surprise and of irony. She would very well kill him now if she didn’t already know that the larger man would object.

 

He was guided carefully through the canopy, over to a cliff overlooking the shore by the beach, and was interrogated by his captor. She stood over him menacingly, and didn’t trust his intentions.

 

But he did have a warning to give them. The larger man, who seemed uncharacteristically serious, was the only one who would listen to him.

 

Mateus told the group of three about the eclipse, which only Reginald had ever heard of before. As the Moon went further through its motion passing the Sun, the creatures of the jungle would grow more aggressive than normally, and they would need to seal off their shelter.

 

This reminded the woman, Carrie, about the unusual patterns of the birds she fought just a few days ago. They remained in the cave together for a few days with the entrance sealed shut. They each took turns looking out their make-shift door to watch the beach and the jungle around them.

 

Mateus had been proven right, indeed the landscape outside was polluted with wandering monsters, swarming scavengers, and beasts of absurd proportions. It seems like the whole planet has just woken up. As footsteps of the heavy Taurus pounded on the rocks above their head, they stayed warm by the fire, and continued to exchange stories.

 

Mateus was fascinated with Reginald, whose wisdom and experience predated the world they lived in today. He was a living source of knowledge, and it was beautiful listening to him speak. The woman, Carrie, who had rescued him from awaking the vicious beast they’ve been hunting, roasted meat over the open fire.

 

But it was Scottie who really saved Mateus’ life. He spotted him scaling the tree, reaching towards what he thought were berries. Scottie saw, even from a distance, an ambition and a will to live that seemed admirable and contagious.

 

Carrie wouldn’t have saved him if she weren’t told to, and if it weren’t for the fact that she still depended on the others for medicine for her wound, she would have probably just refused.

 

Scottie had created a home for Mateus, he had recreated that sense of belonging that he thought he left behind in Teayo.

 

This is what Scottie did for people. He took care of them. And by taking care of them, and showing them altruism and kindness, he could earn their trust. He led people, he made people do the things that they’d never want to do, even if it’s something they needed.

 

They listened to them because they trusted him. Every machine needs a controller or some apparatus by which to operate. Every ecosystem needs its apex predator. Every group needs its leader.

 

And for this small group of four, who have just begun their journeys into this harsh overgrown world searching for meaning, they have been found by their leader: Scottie Erikson.