• RECAP:
    In a desolate world of (as yet) unknown origins, the small village-like Glensville is approached by a mysterious woman, whose charisma and charm captivates them into following her lead to what she says will be a better life.



    A month had passed since the young woman had made her way into Glensville. Shortly after, she had introduced herself as Nova, and had begun new building projects and clean-up works. The trails of before had become respectable little streets. Starting with the north end of the small village, Nova had renovated every single one of the buildings.
    She had organized a system in which every single member of the community contributed to every single building project in one way or another, and shelters were rising rapidly. More than fifty real, structurally sound shelters had been built in less than a month under her supervision, which was enough to house half the population of Glensville.
    Well, the original population of Glensville. From the daily consensus that Nova had instituted, she had determined that there were 127 men, women, and children in Glensville when she first arrived. Since, several of the local rural families had migrated into town, swelling the population to 154.
    Everything Nova had done since taking control of Glensville had been positive, progressive, powerful... It was dazzling to the once simple-minded Jeff Pliffer. The man was a thirty-something old son of a man and woman who had been high-class businessmen before the Fall. It was his that had been the first house erected, for him, his wife, and his two daughters. Ever since, he had been one of Nova's most avid supporters and workers.
    "Mighty respec'ful o' tat Noovah gal ta volinteer ta be ta las' ta get 'er 'ome buil', eh?" Carl Weiss noted to Jeff.
    "Indeed, 'twas a charitable act." Jeff agreed stoically.
    "Don' you be "indeedin'" me, you Jeff Pliffah," Carl replied. His family had been from the deep south of the US, from all the stories his parents had recalled. Carl had never quite shaken the accent, even though he'd never truly experienced the deep South.
    'Perhaps accents could be inherited,' Jeff mused, as he hefted a heavy length of oak from one of the nearby forests through the strikingly clean streets of Glensville. He turned his head, ever so slightly, and spoke to Carl, behind him, " Hey, what do you think will happen if one of these catches fire? The whole town w-"
    He broke off as he stumbled over a makeshift hammer that had been left in the street near the construction site. His footing lost, the log slipped from his shoulder and slammed down on his calf. Shouting in surprise, Jeff fell back and clutched frantically at his bleeding leg. Almost immediately, a crowd materialized around him. Surprisingly, the first there wasn't Carl, who had been the obvious closest. Instead, the first to fall to her knees next to the wounded Jeff was a young black-haired leader named Nova.