Tirolth

Fesimir dug his hands deeper into his worn pockets and ducked his head even further down into his dark green, hand-me-down jacket. Although patched several times already, it obviously needed some serious mending. The green dust was starting to irritate his eyes. A distant noise had momentarily startled him. He stopped walking to turn his head backwards, guiltily stealing a quick glance.
The dust was thick, and not much else could be seen beyond it. Although he was certain he was alone, it unsettled him when he heard any unwarranted noise. Still slightly distracted, he picked up his feet and trudged towards Newkeep. His trail of footprints was now fast fading under layers of new dust.
The world had turned, and when it did, thick green dust had settled everywhere. Everything in Fesimir’s surrounding was enveloped in a film of olive-green dust. The new appearance of the world in which he lived disgusted him. It made the world appear perpetually sick and diseased.
The city in which he walked now resembled a decaying museum; sadly neglected to be closed indefinitely. Only he, and a few others, would dare venture forth to the abandoned wasteland above to salvage some much needed material.
It was risky venture, but it enabled him to explore the surface. He and other survivors sought refuge in the complex underground tunnels. Slung across his chest was an iron rod, crudely sharpened to serve as a weapon.
There was no wind, nor movement. Everything was dry and brittle, caked in layers upon layers of green dust. No living thing could survive in the suffocating atmosphere. He knew what he had heard earlier was unnatural. There could have been nothing to have knocked it over.
Maybe, he thought to himself, something finally gave in to decay. The lame explanation didn’t placate his curiosity. The irritating dust and old gym bag full of precious junk metal were slowly taking its toll on him. His gloved hands took an even tighter grip around the bag as he shifted the weight to his other shoulder.
Throughout time, the universal creed adopted by all living things was that survival was key. Only the strongest, swiftest, or smartest were meant for survival. The dust, however, paid no attention to that logic and killed indiscriminately.
People, animals, and plants died within a matter of weeks. Dead bodies were left wherever they fell. Streets, stores, homes, and cars became engorged with decaying bodies. Surviving was an oddity. It seemed that even under such harsh conditions, the human race persisted in living. In the wake of the destruction, the only constant thing was the sickly yellow-green color and stench of rot.
As if mocking humanity’s progress, the green dust annihilated everything in one swift careless stroke.