Alba - HL Truslove

Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Acknowledgments
Contents
What is an Open World Adventure Book?
How it Works
Half Title
Map of Alba
Chapter 1
The Voyage
1.0
1.1
1.2
1.3
1.4
1.5
1.6
1.7
1.8
1.9
1.10
1.11
1.12
1.13
1.14
Chapter 2
The Storm
2.1
2.2
2.3
2.4
2.5
2.6
2.7
2.8
2.9
2.10
2.11
2.12
2.13
2.14
2.15
2.16
2.17
2.18
2.19
2.20
Chapter 3
The Powerplant
3.1
3.2
3.3
3.4
3.5
3.6
3.7
3.8
3.9
3.10
3.11
3.12
3.13
3.14
3.15
3.16
3.17
3.18
Chapter 4
Return to the Powerplant
4.1
4.2
4.3
4.4
4.5
4.6
4.7
4.8
4.9
4.10
4.11
4.12
4.13
Chapter 5
The Ship
5.1
5.2
5.3
5.4
5.5
5.6
5.7
5.8
5.9
5.10
5.11
Chapter 6
Return to the Ship
6.1
6.2
6.2a
6.3
6.4
6.5
6.6
6.7
6.8
6.9
6.10
6.11
6.12
6.13
6.14
6.15
6.16
6.17
6.18
6.19
6.20
6.21
6.22
6.23
6.24
6.25
6.26
Chapter 7
The Raid
7.0
7.1
7.1a
7.2
7.3
7.4
7.5
7.6
7.7
7.8
7.9
7.10
7.10a
7.11
7.12
7.13
7.14
7.15
7.16
7.17
7.18
7.19
7.20
7.21
7.22
Chapter 8
The Great Migration
8.1
8.2
8.2a
8.3
8.4
8.5
8.6
8.7
8.8
8.9
8.10
8.11
8.12
8.13
8.14
Chapter 9
The Scavenger Village
9.1
9.2
9.3
9.4
9.5
9.6
9.7
9.8
9.9
9.10
9.11
9.12
9.13
9.14
Chapter 10
Return to the Scavenger Village
10.1
10.2
10.3
10.4
10.5
10.6
10.7
10.8
10.9
10.10
10.11
10.12
Chapter 11
The Bridge
11.1
11.2
11.3
11.4
11.5
11.6
11.7
11.8
11.9
11.10
11.11
11.12
11.13
11.14
11.15
11.16
11.17
11.18
11.19
11.20
11.21
11.22
11.23
11.24
11.25
11.26
11.27
11.28
11.29
11.30
Chapter 12
The Zoo
12.1
12.2
12.3
12.4
12.5
12.6
12.7
12.8
12.9
12.10
12.11
12.12
12.13
12.14
12.15
12.16
12.17
12.18
12.19
Chapter 13
The City Centre
13.1
13.2
13.3
13.4
13.5
13.6
13.7
Chapter 14
The Church
14.0
14.1
14.1a
14.2
14.3
14.4
14.5
14.6
14.7
14.8
14.9
14.10
14.11
14.12
14.13
14.14
14.15
14.16
14.17
14.18
14.19
14.20
14.21
Chapter 15
The Uranium Heist
15.1
15.2
15.3
15.4
15.5
15.6
15.7
15.8
15.9
15.10
15.11
15.12
15.13
15.14
15.15
15.16
15.17
15.18
15.19
15.20
15.21
15.22
15.23
15.24
15.25
15.26
15.27
15.28
15.29
15.30
Chapter 16
The Cell
16.0
16.1a
16.1
16.2
16.3
16.4
16.5
16.6
16.6a
16.7
16.8
16.9
16.10
16.11
16.12
16.13
16.14
16.15
16.16
16.17
16.18
16.19
16.20
16.21
16.22
16.23
16.24
16.25
Chapter 17
The Library
17.0
17.1
17.1a
17.2
17.3
17.4
17.5
17.6
17.7
17.8
17.9
17.10
17.11
17.12
17.13
17.14
17.15
17.16a
17.16
17.17
17.18
17.19
17.20
17.21
Chapter 18
The Base/The Offer
18.1
18.2
18.3
18.4
18.5
18.6
18.7
18.8
18.9
18.10
18.11
18.12
18.13
18.14
18.15
18.16
18.17
18.18
18.19
Chapter 19
Return to the Base
19.1
19.2
19.3
19.4
19.5
19.6
19.7
19.8
19.9a
19.9b
19.9
19.10
19.11
19.11a
19.12
19.13
19.14
19.15
19.16
19.17
19.18
19.19
Chapter 20
The Push
20.1
20.2
20.3
20.4
20.5
20.5a
20.6
20.7
20.8
20.9
20.10
20.11
20.12
20.13
20.14
20.15
20.16
20.17
20.18
20.19
20.20
20.21
20.22
20.23
20.24
20.25
Chapter 21
The Open Fields
21.1
21.2
21.3
21.4
21.5
21.6
21.6a
21.7
21.8
21.8a
21.8b
21.9
21.10
21.11
21.12
21.13
21.14
Chapter 22
The Metro
22.1
22.2
22.3
22.4
22.5
22.6
22.7
22.8
22.9
22.10
22.11
22.12
22.13
22.14
22.15
22.16
Chapter 23
The Windmill
23.1
23.2
23.3
23.4
23.5
23.6
23.6a
23.7
23.8
23.9
23.10
23.10a
23.11
23.12
23.13
23.14
23.15
23.16
23.17
23.17a
23.18
23.19
23.20
23.21
23.22
23.23
23.24
23.25
Chapter 24
The Caravans
24.1
24.2
24.3
24.4
24.5
24.6
24.7
24.8
24.9
24.10
24.11
24.12
24.13
24.14
24.15
24.16
Chapter 25
The Radio Tower
25
25.0
25.1
25.1G
25.1a
25.2
25.3
25.4
25.4G
25.5
25.6
25.6G
25.7
25.8
25.9
25.10
25.11
25.12
25.13
25.14
25.15
Chapter 26
The Battlefield
26.1
26.2
26.3
26.4
26.5
26.6
26.7
26.8
26.8a
26.9
26.10
26.10a
26.11
26.12
26.13
26.14
26.15
26.16
26.17
26.18
26.18a
26.19
26.20
26.21
26.22
26.23
Chapter 27
The Aftermath
27.1
27.2
27.3
27.4
27.5
27.6
27.7
27.8
27.9
27.10
27.11
27.12
27.13
27.14
27.15
Chapter 28
The Streets
28.1
28.2
28.3
28.4
28.5
28.6
28.7
28.8
28.9
28.10
28.11
28.12
Chapter 29
The Reunion
29.0
29.1
29.1G
29.2
29.3
29.4
29.5
29.6
29.7
29.8
29.9
29.10
S.1
The Seaside Farm
S.1.1
S.1.2
S.1.3
S.1.4
S.1.5
S.1.5a
S.1.6
S.1.7
S.1.8
S.1.9
S.1.10
S.1.11
S.1.12
S.1.13
S.1.14
S.1.15
S.1.16
S.1.17
S.1.18
S.1.19
S.1.20
S.1.21
S.1.21a
S.2
The Cult
S.2.1
S.2.2
S.2.3
S.2.4
S.2.5
S.2.5a
S.2.6
S.2.7
S.2.8
S.2.9
S.2.10
S.2.11
S.2.12
S.2.13
S.2.14
S.2.15
S.2.16
S.2.17
S.2.18
S.2.19
S.2.20
S.2.21
S.2.22
S.2.23
S.2.24
Chapter 30
30.0
30.A
30.B
Chapter 31
31.0
31.A
31.B
Chapter 32
32.0
32.A
32.B
32.C
Chapter 33
33.0
33.A
33.B
Chapter 34
34.0
34.A
34.B
34.C
Chapter 35
35.0
35.A
35.B
Chapter 36
36.0
Lost Ending One
36.A
Lost Ending Two
36.B
Lost Ending Three
36.C
Lost Ending Four
36.D
Lost Ending Five
36.E
Lost Ending Six
36.F
Alba Quickstart Guide
About the Author
About Inside the Box
ALBA
HL TRUSLOVE
Copyright © Inside the Box Game Studio Ltd. 2021, All Rights
Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any
electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and
retrieval systems, without written permission from the copyright
holder, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Author: H L Truslove
Chief Editor: Linda Canton
Additional Editing: Rose Atkinson
Producer: Peter Blenkharn
Illustration: Marco Luna
Design & Art Direction: Liam Relph
Alba Special Edition eBook 1.1
ISBN: 978-1-913921-02-6
itbboardgames.com
@itbboardgames
support@itbboardgames.com
For commercial orders relating to physical paperback and/or
hardback copies, please
contact operations@itbboardgames.com
For media enquiries, advance copies of future publications and
press information, please
contact comms@itbboardgames.com
“Open World Adventure Books”, the Open World Adventure Books
logo, the ITB Cube, the ITB Logo and the Alba title are all trademarks
of Inside the Box Game Studio Ltd.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
either are the products of the authors imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
For my mum – for always believing in me, even when I didn't believe
in myself.
For Shazleen – because I made you dedicate your first book to me.
CONTENTS
What is an Open World Adventure Book?
How it Works
Chapter 1
The Voyage
1.0
1.1
1.2
1.3
1.4
1.5
1.6
1.7
1.8
1.9
1.10
1.11
1.12
1.13
1.14
Chapter 2
The Storm
2.1
2.2
2.3
2.4
2.5
2.6
2.7
2.8
2.9
2.10
2.11
2.12
2.13
2.14
2.15
2.16
2.17
2.18
2.19
2.20
Chapter 3
The Powerplant
3.1
3.2
3.3
3.4
3.5
3.6
3.7
3.8
3.9
3.10
3.11
3.12
3.13
3.14
3.15
3.16
3.17
3.18
Chapter 4
Return to the Powerplant
4.1
4.2
4.3
4.4
4.5
4.6
4.7
4.8
4.9
4.10
4.11
4.12
4.13
Chapter 5
The Ship
5.1
5.2
5.3
5.4
5.5
5.6
5.7
5.8
5.9
5.10
5.11
Chapter 6
Return to the Ship
6.1
6.2
6.2a
6.3
6.4
6.5
6.6
6.7
6.8
6.9
6.10
6.11
6.12
6.13
6.14
6.15
6.16
6.17
6.18
6.19
6.20
6.21
6.22
6.23
6.24
6.25
6.26
Chapter 7
The Raid
7.0
7.1
7.1a
7.2
7.3
7.4
7.5
7.6
7.7
7.8
7.9
7.10
7.10a
7.11
7.12
7.13
7.14
7.15
7.16
7.17
7.18
7.19
7.20
7.21
7.22
Chapter 8
The Great Migration
8.1
8.2
8.2a
8.3
8.4
8.5
8.6
8.7
8.8
8.9
8.10
8.11
8.12
8.13
8.14
Chapter 9
The Scavenger Village
9.1
9.2
9.3
9.4
9.5
9.6
9.7
9.8
9.9
9.10
9.11
9.12
9.13
9.14
Chapter 10
Return to the Scavenger Village
10.1
10.2
10.3
10.4
10.5
10.6
10.7
10.8
10.9
10.10
10.11
10.12
Chapter 11
The Bridge
11.1
11.2
11.3
11.4
11.5
11.6
11.7
11.8
11.9
11.10
11.11
11.12
11.13
11.14
11.15
11.16
11.17
11.18
11.19
11.20
11.21
11.22
11.23
11.24
11.25
11.26
11.27
11.28
11.29
11.30
Chapter 12
The Zoo
12.1
12.2
12.3
12.4
12.5
12.6
12.7
12.8
12.9
12.10
12.11
12.12
12.13
12.14
12.15
12.16
12.17
12.18
12.19
Chapter 13
The City Centre
13.1
13.2
13.3
13.4
13.5
13.6
13.7
Chapter 14
The Church
14.0
14.1
14.1a
14.2
14.3
14.4
14.5
14.6
14.7
14.8
14.9
14.10
14.11
14.12
14.13
14.14
14.15
14.16
14.17
14.18
14.19
14.20
14.21
Chapter 15
The Uranium Heist
15.1
15.2
15.3
15.4
15.5
15.6
15.7
15.8
15.9
15.10
15.11
15.12
15.13
15.14
15.15
15.16
15.17
15.18
15.19
15.20
15.21
15.22
15.23
15.24
15.25
15.26
15.27
15.28
15.29
15.30
Chapter 16
The Cell
16.0
16.1a
16.1
16.2
16.3
16.4
16.5
16.6
16.6a
16.7
16.8
16.9
16.10
16.11
16.12
16.13
16.14
16.15
16.16
16.17
16.18
16.19
16.20
16.21
16.22
16.23
16.24
16.25
Chapter 17
The Library
17.0
17.1
17.1a
17.2
17.3
17.4
17.5
17.6
17.7
17.8
17.9
17.10
17.11
17.12
17.13
17.14
17.15
17.16a
17.16
17.17
17.18
17.19
17.20
17.21
Chapter 18
The Base/The Offer
18.1
18.2
18.3
18.4
18.5
18.6
18.7
18.8
18.9
18.10
18.11
18.12
18.13
18.14
18.15
18.16
18.17
18.18
18.19
Chapter 19
Return to the Base
19.1
19.2
19.3
19.4
19.5
19.6
19.7
19.8
19.9a
19.9b
19.9
19.10
19.11
19.11a
19.12
19.13
19.14
19.15
19.16
19.17
19.18
19.19
Chapter 20
The Push
20.1
20.2
20.3
20.4
20.5
20.5a
20.6
20.7
20.8
20.9
20.10
20.11
20.12
20.13
20.14
20.15
20.16
20.17
20.18
20.19
20.20
20.21
20.22
20.23
20.24
20.25
Chapter 21
The Open Fields
21.1
21.2
21.3
21.4
21.5
21.6
21.6a
21.7
21.8
21.8a
21.8b
21.9
21.10
21.11
21.12
21.13
21.14
Chapter 22
The Metro
22.1
22.2
22.3
22.4
22.5
22.6
22.7
22.8
22.9
22.10
22.11
22.12
22.13
22.14
22.15
22.16
Chapter 23
The Windmill
23.1
23.2
23.3
23.4
23.5
23.6
23.6a
23.7
23.8
23.9
23.10
23.10a
23.11
23.12
23.13
23.14
23.15
23.16
23.17
23.17a
23.18
23.19
23.20
23.21
23.22
23.23
23.24
23.25
Chapter 24
The Caravans
24.1
24.2
24.3
24.4
24.5
24.6
24.7
24.8
24.9
24.10
24.11
24.12
24.13
24.14
24.15
24.16
Chapter 25
The Radio Tower
25
25.0
25.1
25.1G
25.1a
25.2
25.3
25.4
25.4G
25.5
25.6
25.6G
25.7
25.8
25.9
25.10
25.11
25.12
25.13
25.14
25.15
Chapter 26
The Battlefield
26.1
26.2
26.3
26.4
26.5
26.6
26.7
26.8
26.8a
26.9
26.10
26.10a
26.11
26.12
26.13
26.14
26.15
26.16
26.17
26.18
26.18a
26.19
26.20
26.21
26.22
26.23
Chapter 27
The Aftermath
27.1
27.2
27.3
27.4
27.5
27.6
27.7
27.8
27.9
27.10
27.11
27.12
27.13
27.14
27.15
Chapter 28
The Streets
28.1
28.2
28.3
28.4
28.5
28.6
28.7
28.8
28.9
28.10
28.11
28.12
Chapter 29
The Reunion
29.0
29.1
29.1G
29.2
29.3
29.4
29.5
29.6
29.7
29.8
29.9
29.10
S.1
The Seaside Farm
S.1.1
S.1.2
S.1.3
S.1.4
S.1.5
S.1.5a
S.1.6
S.1.7
S.1.8
S.1.9
S.1.10
S.1.11
S.1.12
S.1.13
S.1.14
S.1.15
S.1.16
S.1.17
S.1.18
S.1.19
S.1.20
S.1.21
S.1.21a
S.2
The Cult
S.2.1
S.2.2
S.2.3
S.2.4
S.2.5
S.2.5a
S.2.6
S.2.7
S.2.8
S.2.9
S.2.10
S.2.11
S.2.12
S.2.13
S.2.14
S.2.15
S.2.16
S.2.17
S.2.18
S.2.19
S.2.20
S.2.21
S.2.22
S.2.23
S.2.24
Chapter 30
Ending One
30.0
30.A
30.B
Chapter 31
Ending Two
31.0
31.A
31.B
Chapter 32
Ending Three
32.0
32.A
32.B
32.C
Chapter 33
Ending four
33.0
33.A
33.B
Chapter 34
Ending Five
34.0
34.A
34.B
34.C
Chapter 35
Ending Six
35.0
35.A
35.B
Chapter 36
Lost Endings
36.0
36.A
36.B
36.C
36.D
36.E
36.F
Alba Quickstart Guide
About the Author
About Inside the Box
WHAT IS AN OPEN WORLD ADVENTURE BOOK?
Gamebooks have been around for a long time; novels where YOU
are the protagonist, making choices at points in the narrative where
going left or right will make a substantial difference to how the story
progresses. Our team grew up exploring castles, dungeons and
houses of horror, navigating these little worlds bound up in a single
book – nestled into a corner of a library or a classroom or a cluttered
bedroom, imagining ourselves as mighty warriors, devious rogues
or plucky detectives.
Taking inspiration from those fabulously immersive stories, as well
as more recent immersive board games and video games – we
wanted to create something more expansive, more immersive and
more engaging than what has come before. No dead-ends, no dice
rolling
– a modern, mature and deep experience you will return to time and
time again.
Open World Adventure Books will give you an experience where
you make choices at each juncture in the narrative, the effects of
which will ripple through your story. Each chapter of the book is an
‘act’ of the narrative, a particular location at a particular time, where
you
make successive choices to determine what happens in that place, at
that time. At the end of each chapter, you’ll then choose where to go
next – which chapter to progress to. Depending on your choices,
different chapters will be unlocked, and some may even remain a
mystery after you’ve completed your journey!
Open World Adventure Books offer a non-linear branching narrative
style that allows for an organic, natural journey through these novel
worlds.
HOW IT WORKS
Open World Adventure Books aren’t like regular books. Instead of
going from paragraph to paragraph, chapter to chapter, until you hit
the end of the story, YOU choose how the story ends.
You’ll start at Chapter 1, Section 0.
At the end of that section, it’ll tell you what to do next. You’ll go from
section to section, not necessarily in numerical order, following
instructions and making choices until you reach the end of a
chapter.
Then, you’ll choose which chapter to read next, based on what
you’ve unlocked.
See Locations for more on chapter selection.
Choices
Some sections will end by telling you to read the next section by
saying something like:
Turn to 10.
Others might give you a couple of options on how to respond. This is
how you choose how you want the story to proceed. At the end of a
section where there’s a choice, it’ll look something like this: Go left –
Turn to 5.
Go right – Turn to 6.
Depending on which option you choose, you’ll have a different
section to read, and possibly different options again from the other
path you didn’t choose. Sometimes, these options may only have a
small impact on the overall story, others are pivotal moments that
radically alter your character’s experience.
Choose wisely.
Although different choices will lead you down different paths, you
cannot ‘lose’ an Open World Adventure Book. There is no point
where you get told your character died or suddenly got lost – you
will always progress. Don’t underestimate how differently, though...
Traits
In Alba, one way you track your experience of different events,
encounters and other aspects of your adventure is through traits.
These are Compassion, Cruelty, Resolve, and Instability. As you
make your choices, sections may instruct you to amend one of these
traits like:
Add Resolve to your character sheet.
To do this, turn to your character sheet in the back of the book and
circle one of the pips next to that trait.
If you’re asked to remove one, cross one out that’s already been
circled.
Sometimes an option may be restricted based on your traits, for
example:
Go left – Turn to 5.
Go straight ahead – Turn to 7,
Needs Resolve >=3
In this case, you need to have at least 3 Resolve (circled pips, not
including crossed out ones) to choose the third option. You can still
choose the other ones if you like, but if you meet the criteria where
it says ‘Needs x’ that option is also open to you, otherwise, you must
pick from the ones that don’t have a requirement. There will usually
be more than one option available to you, but occasionally there
may only be one available option.
These traits have a lasting impact on your character, and can
ultimately determine your fate.
Locations
In Alba, each chapter represents a particular location at a particular
time. As you progress, you’ll be instructed to add some locations to
your map, like this:
Add The House (CH 10) to map.
To do this, find the location sticker with the matching number. Add
the sticker to the map so that the chapter number lines up with the
outline of the number printed on the map. This sticker will add a
visual reference for that chapter, as well as the number of the
chapter, to that position on the map.
When you complete a chapter, place one of the black circle markers
from the sticker sheet around the number on the map, to show that
you’ve completed that section. You can no longer choose that
chapter when progressing to the next one. If you’re ever instructed
to
‘remove’ a location, you also do this by covering the number with a
black circle sticker.
If you are in a situation where you must choose a new chapter
and you do not have any unexplored chapters to choose from,
from those that have been revealed, go directly to Chapter 36.
This is a fairly unlikely outcome!
Specialities
You start your journey into Alba on a boat, entering the Old World
and talking to other members of your expedition. This is where you
determine what skills and expertise you have accumulated before
your adventure. You’ll pick your first by choosing a narrative option,
reading the appropriate section, and then following the instruction
to add that speciality sticker to your character sheet, like this: Add
Engineering to your character sheet.
To add your speciality to your character sheet, select the matching
sticker from the sticker sheet and place it in the area marked
‘Specialities’.
Specialities, like traits, may be necessary to progress through certain
paths, like this:
Build a shelter – Turn to 7, Needs Engineering.
By the end of Chapter 1, you’ll have two of these specialities. In rare
cases, you may be able to add additional specialities during the
course of your adventure.
The different specialities you can get for your character are:
• Engineering
• Old World Language
• Hand-to-Hand Combat
• Knowledge, Chemistry
• Medicine
• Survival
• Sharpshooter
Encounters
Encounters are Alba’s way of tracking specific interactions or events
within the narrative that come to have greater meaning later, based
on your choices. These encounters, like traits and specialities, may
be needed to progress down particular paths. At the end of a section,
you may be instructed to add an encounter to your character sheet
like this:
Add Encounter with Bob to your character sheet.
Like the other stickers, encounters could be needed for options, for
example:
Call Bob – Turn to 7, Needs Encounter
with Bob.
Generally speaking, encounters are added to your character sheet
for interactions with named characters or particularly pivotal
moments that don’t result in you picking up a ‘thing’. Not all of them
will be useful for the plot.
Items
Items work similarly to encounters, in that you get them at the end
of a section to let the book know that you’ve gone down a particular
path. Later on, these may be needed to choose a particular option.
To add an item, when instructed, take the matching sticker and add
it to your ‘inventory’ section of your character sheet. The instruction
will look like this:
Add Ladder to your inventory.
You may be instructed to remove an item from your inventory. If this
happens, cross out that item in your inventory to mark it as used and
no longer available. You may not choose options that need a removed
item unless you get a new one.
Requiring an item to do an action will not always result in the
item being removed.
Just like before, items may be a requirement for a particular branch:
Climb wall – Turn to 7, Needs Ladder.
If you’re ever instructed to add an item to your inventory that you
already have gained previously, and there isn’t an additional sticker
available to use, simply ignore that instruction (i.e. there may be
multiple opportunities to gain a specific item, but there’s only one of
them in the game world and just a few ways of getting it). The
stickers represent the actual number of each of these items available
to you during the course of the story.
Perks
Perks are unusual, abstract items that allow you to do certain things
relating to your traits. For example, if you went through a branch of
the story where you got a hot meal, you could be able to avoid
adding an instance of instability later on.
Each perk is unique, and will have a description of exactly how it
functions.
When instructed to add a perk to your character sheet, take the
matching sticker and add it to the ‘Perks’ section of your character
sheet.
Field Notes
In addition to all of the above types of stickers and marks, which
have a substantive effect on your path through the story, you may
also be instructed to add something to your ‘notebook’. These are
stickers that represent memories of your adventure; they do not
have an effect on the narrative choices.
To add one of these, take the matching sticker from the sticker sheet
and add it to the ‘Notebook’ section of your character sheet.
ALBA
CHAPTER 1
THE VOYAGE
1.0
Don’t be afraid of the Old World, Vola had told you back in the vault,
it’s where we’re all from, after all.
The boat gives a subtle groan as you furl the mainsail and finally
ease up the pace you’ve been putting her through. The boards creak
beneath your feet – a speeding bullet, the hull cuts through the
waves on momentum alone. The motion reminds you of skinning a
beast, a knife neatly parting flesh and bone.
You take a moment to look to the horizon and smile as you bask in
the reassuring sight of land. A long, grey strip sitting on the top of
dark water. The wind picks up a little and whips your coat at your
back. With it behind you, it feels like nature herself is encouraging
you onwards safely to your destination.
You crouch beneath the boom as it swings loose from the mast and
signal to Viktor at the tiller. He nods silently and turns the boat in
toward the coast.
Twenty-four days.
For twenty-four days the three of you have scanned the horizon,
read sea charts, and done little else save for a fleeting game of
cards by lamplight, squashed in between the narrow bunks of the

crew cabin. The work of sailing the ship itself has been steady and
kept you on your toes, though the journey has been reasonably
quiet. While you knew you should be glad of it, you somehow
couldn’t help but have wished for a little more excitement, rather
than just days upon days of endless chopping waters. With all things
considered you’re happy to finally see land again.
Your mind meanders back to some time after the first week, when
Gaia, your other companion, suggested naming the boat. With little
else to do the pair of you had discussed the idea for almost the
entire day, batting suggestions back and forth, happy to distract
from the monotony that had thus far defined the mission. Viktor had
endured the squabbling in contemplative silence, spending his time
on the deck and staring out to the horizon for hours. It was only as
the night settled across your little vessel that he spoke a single
word, his voice sending out a tiny puff of frost that was soon eaten
by the darkness.
“Marlin.” Turn to 1.1.
“Ark.” Turn to 1. 2.
“Speedwell.” Turn to 1. 3.
1.1
The sound of his voice had made Gaia jump a bit, and she’d furrowed
her heavy brow.
“Merlin?” she asked. “Like the wizard in the stories?”
“Marlin,” Viktor replied, not looking at either of you, “like the fish.”
“Marlin it is,” Gaia said, perhaps swayed by Viktor bothering to join
in the conversation. “Marlin like the fish.”
Viktor never mentioned the name again, but judging by how little
the roughly bearded man spoke, you could only imagine that it had
some significance for him. You’d made a mental note at the time to
find out more about this creature.
Your curiosity was satisfied a couple of days after when, on a
particularly quiet day on the open ocean, you had some free time to
yourself. You found yourself thumbing through the handful of old
books stored in the cabin, an eclectic collection brought by the three
of you to try and provide some entertainment. Between an
instruction manual for basic sailing and a never-used recipe book
you came across a weighty tome bound in blue canvas. Along the
spine faded gold lettering read: Beasts of the Sea.
The book was old, the pages were cracked and stiff with age. As you
gingerly turned them they resisted your touch, splintering at the
brittle edges where they had lost the flexibility they’d had when they
were first pressed. You couldn’t help but think it was probably
falling apart before it was on board – and being exposed to the salty
ocean can’t have helped.
Muttering the chapter headings under your breath as you went, you
delicately scanned the book, until you discovered the page labelled
Marlin. Beneath two paragraphs of text, an illustration showed a
long fish flying from the water in a mighty splash. Like a dart, the
fish’s body was long and pointed, its head coming to a sharp end a
few feet beyond its glassy black eyes. The body was a dark blue and
decorated along the spine with a tall fin, much like the sails of your
ship, carving its journey through the sky.
You turned to continue reading the entry when something fell out
and landed on your lap. For a moment you were terrified that your
clumsy touch had broken something, until you saw the paper was
far fresher than that of the book itself. You unfolded it to see
someone’s handwriting scribbled in black ink. It was a letter written
to Viktor. You read a couple of sentences before realising this must
be from his father, a goodbye note with the gift of the book to help
him along his way, wishing him luck and expressing his pride.
Faltering for a moment, you fold it back to its original shape and
returned it to where it was nestled between the pages. It felt too
invasive to keep reading, and given Viktor’s solemn demeanour you
couldn’t imagine he’d appreciate your continued snooping. You
placed the book back on the shelf, hesitating only to take a quick
look at the first page. Published 2019. It seemed the book was
brought out nearly a hundred years ago, before the war. You
wondered just how long it had been in Viktor’s family.
The old book said that the marlin lives in warm waters around the
belt of the Earth, far from where your boat is heading and further
still
from where your journey began. You wondered if Viktor had ever
seen one of these fish for himself, but you never found yourself
asking him, just as you never found yourself asking about the letter
folded away in his book.
Add Marlin (N.1) to your character sheet.
Turn to 1.4.
1.2
‘Ark’.The word hung in the air for a moment; your eyes involuntarily
flicking to Gaia and then back to Viktor.
Viktor was – is – a private man, saying little and sharing even less,
but you never thought him religious. Perhaps this is why he signed
up for the mission, you thought.
Perhaps he truly believed.
Growing up in the vault you were surrounded with tales of rebirth.
Stories of a chosen people that would rise from the dust of the world
to rebuild anew. A hundred years had passed since the War, a
hundred years you and your people had lived below the earth.
Waiting. Biding your time. Weathering the storm. In the great metal
walls of your home which sealed you off from the wasteland outside,
it was these stories that nourished hope.
Your vault sent out its first expedition when you were just a child,
but you knew they held far more significance for the older
generations. The ones who had grown up when everything first
turned to rubble and death. The ones who had seen the world before
it consumed itself.
When you signed up to leave your home, the idea of rebirth wasn’t
on your mind. All you had wanted was an excuse to leave the place
that had kept you confined for the first twenty-five years of your life.
Perhaps you were alone in that...
As the days rolled on there was a tension in the air that grew with
each moment of silence. When it seemed like the pressure was too
much, you would try and cautiously raise it with Gaia.
“I went for the same reason everyone does,” was the only answer
she ever gave, her face always turned pointedly away from you. “I
couldn’t spend the rest of my life in that place.”
You mulled over those words for a while. On the sixteenth day you
found yourself with Gaia once again, securing cargo that had come
loose in a night of heavy winds. As you packed the crates and barrels
back in with tight ropes and examined them for damage, you saw
the crew in a new light. Perhaps this mission was more than a
simple supply run. Perhaps to the old world it spelled hope. A
chance to start again.
You mustered the courage one time to turn to her and ask,
“Do you believe in the Ark?”
For the first time in your conversations, she turned and looked at
you directly, the cold blueness of her eyes coinciding with a wind
that made you shiver.
“I don’t know. Do you?” she responded. You paused for a moment,
taken aback by the sudden reversal. You weren’t sure how to reply,
but by then she had turned back to her work.
The subject wasn’t brought up again.
Add Ark (N.2) to your character sheet.
Turn to 1.4.
1.3
Not wanting to offend Viktor, you attempted to hide your
amusement by covering your mouth with a fist, trying to stifle a
laugh with a cough.
“Speed… well…?” replied Gaia, more confused than entertained.
A wide grin split your face as you were no longer able to cover it up.
You suddenly noticed Viktor looking incredibly stone-faced, and you
felt a bit guilty at your reaction.
“I like it!” you announced. By this time Gaia was smiling too, and she
clapped Viktor heavily on the shoulder with one of her calloused
hands.
“The good ship Speedwell it is!” she said, perhaps a little too
patronisingly.
“The faster we get there the faster we return,” Viktor replied, his
gruff tone setting an icy edge to the conversation. The laughter came
to an abrupt end and he shook off Gaia’s hand, going to continue
with his work.
In the awkward silence, you’d shared a look of concern with Gaia.
Although Viktor had never expressed any enthusiasm for the
mission, he’d never spoken of it begrudgingly in front of you.
You had assumed, perhaps foolishly, that your view of the mission
was shared by your crewmates. It was an opportunity, a chance to
escape the suffocating metal walls of the home you had never left
and see the world beyond. Of course, as a child you lived in a world
filled with stories of the war. A world plagued with terrible
destruction. Entire civilisations wiped out if not by the damage the
bombs caused when they fell, then by the ravaging fires they left
behind. Wild beasts stalked the wasteland now, preying on the
helpless, while the cannibals who were left on the surface after the
fighting destroyed themselves in drug-fuelled orgies of violence and
horror.
But as you grew older, you began to take these tales less seriously.
And as you reached your teenage years you realised what they were:
fear-mongering ghost stories meant to keep you inside.
The walls that had once felt like protection were really a prison.
Every safe and sanitised thing your home gave you left behind a
bitter taste. Like ash in your mouth, it left you devoid of joy, taste,
and feeling. There was nothing but a numb, bland shell to keep you
going, and it never made you feel alive.
When you encountered Viktor’s cynicism for the first time, it left you
with a strange feeling you were unable to shift. You had, admittedly,
no real knowledge of the old world. Nothing beyond the books and
lectures you’d endured in your youth. You were left with the
horrifying possibility that perhaps, just perhaps, the stories you
were told as a child weren’t quite as exaggerated as you were led to
believe.
Add Speedwell (N.3) to your character sheet.
Turn to 1.4.
1.4
You feel that you should be doing more to help your
crewmates, but you find it incredibly difficult to tear your gaze from
the approaching land. You’re almost worried, foolish as it is, that if
you turn away, you’d look round again to find it gone and replaced
by yet more stretches of dark, dull ocean. But it does not disappear,
not even when your eyes are ripped away as Gaia yells some…
choice words at you to stop being so lazy and help the two of them
out.
Your little ship stays her course and guides the three of you into the
makeshift harbour, which is really no more than a few recycled
crates bound together. You jolt to a sudden stop for the first time in
weeks as the keel drives into the soft silt of the beach. You jump
from the bow, barely able to contain your enthusiasm, into the icy
waters. From the deck, Viktor throws a bundle of rope and you begin
securing the boat.
The coldness of the sea shocks you for a moment, but it isn’t enough
to make you regret throwing yourself in. The land beneath your feet
is firm and reassuring and it helps you hone into the moment. You
notice the softness of the wind, the sound of the waves lapping
against the shore, the gentle warmth of the sun on your face.
A barrage of sensations which all seem to have been absent in the
last twenty-four days overwhelm you. It feels as though you are
experiencing all of this for the first time.
Your daze breaks with a splash as Gaia lands in the water beside
you, spraying you with even more chilly water. You can’t bring
yourself to mind, though, as she slaps you on the shoulder and
wades past you to the land. Following her, you tread over the
greying sand to the dunes, where patches of dry grass begin to
sprout. Gaia nimbly ascends the bank, offering a hand to help haul
you up next to her, and for the first time you look and see the old
world.
Ground stretches out as far as your eye can see, every inch of it
covered with grass. It isn’t as bleached as your home country. In fact,
it’s even beginning to ripen into greenness. Tiny purple wildflowers
are forcing their way out of the tough dirt, specks of brightness in
the open land. Wispy white clouds hang in the sky overhead but are
clearing to let pale sunlight brighten the scene around you. A breath
catches in your throat.
About a kilometre away you catch a glimpse of a base. It sits oddly
against the rest of the old world, almost intruding on all of this
nature. There is no more than a handful of tents centred round a
gently smouldering fire, and between them you can see figures
flitting around, busily engaging themselves with running their little
camp.
“Look, there they are!” Gaia exclaims, elbowing you in her
excitement with such force that you almost lose your footing and
end up arse first back on the beach. Not seeming to notice she sticks
her fingers in her mouth, ripping her gloves off and letting them fall
to the floor, and lets out a sharp, shrill whistle.
The group in the camp all pause and look towards you, cueing Gaia
to start waving wildly. A couple of them appear to point and
wave back, and begin to cross the vast space to come and greet you.
The two of you carefully make your way down the bank trying to be
sure the dirt will take your weight successfully. You meet the two of
them about halfway – both men in green overalls, one small and
smiling broadly, the other taller and solemn.
“We expected you tomorrow!” says the shorter man, reaching out
and enthusiastically pumping your arm in a handshake. His tall
accomplice follows his suit and you can’t help but notice he has the
tip of a finger missing. Did that happen before or after the old world,
you wonder?
“We made good time past Faroe,” Gaia explains. “Strong headwind
most of the way.”
“Just as well,” the taller man mutters, “expeditions past the camp
have been delayed until we can start on permanent construction.
We’ve been waiting on the tools since we arrived.”
“Aye, well, that’s not their fault, is it Friis?” asks the smaller man,
with thinly veiled impatience. Friis merely sniffs in reply, and his
companion opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted by
a shout high on the bank.
“If you don’t mind!” Viktor calls, gesturing sarcastically in the
direction of the boat. Gaia rolls her eyes as she turns back to the
welcoming party.
“Do you have hands to spare?”
“Of course!” says the smaller man. “We’ll send them over
immediately.”
Time seems to go by quickly from then, and within an hour the ship
is unloaded. The supplies lay in a pile at the centre of the camp while
Viktor and the tall man take stock. A few excited settlers mill around
the area, eager of an eyeful of the bounty sent from home.
You sit with Gaia on the edge of a crate, the two of you taking in the
sights, allowing yourselves a moment to appreciate the old world.

The short man comes over and joins you, oblivious to your moment
of quiet.
“Didn’t get a chance to properly introduce myself earlier,” he says,
the smile not having left his face yet, “I’m Jan.”
“It’s nice to meet you Jan,” you say, because after nearly a month
stuck with the same two people, it’s nice to meet anyone.
“So, I read that you aren’t scheduled to return with these two,”
Jan remarks, gesturing to your colleagues. “We didn’t request
another body in the last comms relay. So… why are you staying
here?”
“Not many are qualified to install these.” Turn to 1.5.
“I was desperate to live in the old world.” Turn to 1.6.
“I suppose to get me out of the way, there were complaints.” Turn to
1.7.
“I requested myself. It was the only way to further my studies.” Turn
to 1.8.
1.5
You kick your heel against the box you’re sitting on,
indicating to the stencilled words across the side. Jan tilts his head
and reads them aloud.
“Solar,” he says with a smile. He shakes his head and chuckles,
pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “What’s that old
phrase? ‘Every cloud has a silver lining’?”
“I think so,” you reply, looking up to where the sunshine has been
taken over by clouds which are pregnant with the possibility of rain.
Jan snorts.
“Well then I suppose we have an awful lot to look forward to, eh?”
He stands up from where he was perching on a barrel of dried
herring and heads towards the large barracks tent behind you. You
watch as he leaves, and you catch him muttering to himself under
his breath.
“Two hundred days of rain and wind a year and they send us solar
panels…”
Add Engineering (S.1) to your character sheet.
Turn to 1.9.
1.6
With stunned silence Jan turns to face you directly. His eyes dart to
your face, then across your body. As you shift your weight and cross
your arms you move deliberately, suddenly aware of his careful gaze
inspecting every aspect of your behaviour. When he speaks, the
curiosity in his words is palpable – though the excitement is
definitely laced with fear.
“You want to live here?”
You nod enthusiastically. Ever since you heard the first call to
adventure when the vault was trying to find new explorers you
knew where you wanted to go. Somewhere new. Somewhere
exciting.
Somewhere outside of the bland monotony of the vault.
In a moment you’re transported back, back to the classes you
elected to take to learn more about the old world. The hours you
logged learning about the environment and history, but more
importantly about the people.
“They’re all savages.”
Perhaps a dozen times you heard those words stated as fact.
Your teacher was a harsh, fierce man who’d been on expeditions
before. He made his opinion of the old world very clear. It wasn’t
something to be trusted, it was to be held at arms’ length and feared.
And for a while you had agreed with him, curious to start your
mission but worried about what it might bring.
But then you started doing your own studies. Fascination with the
old world had swept you up like a rainstorm. Suddenly, you were
spending every moment you had reading everything you could find.
It seemed like your tutor was wrong. A lot of the people who had
been encountered weren’t wily savages. They were humans,
surviving in a harsh climate.
You wanted to go out there and help them. You wanted to start
taking a step in the right direction. And the only way to do it was to
put down roots here yourself.
Add Old World Language (S.2) to your character sheet.
Turn to 1.9.
1.7
Jan chuckles.
“Another young ruffian sent to learn some discipline?”
he replies, raising his eyebrows in amusement. “Don’t worry - we’re
not here to break you. This place will do worse to you than we ever
could.”
As he laughs again you turn to face him, a fixed glare at the side of
his head. As his laughter ceases he looks into your eyes, then looks
away nervously. For a moment you stare him down silently.
“Of course I’m not saying you are a ruffian… I just… erm…” he trails
off, looking down at his feet.
The silence continues for a moment more. You can see Gaia suppress
a smile in the corner of your vision. As his awkwardness increases
he folds and unfolds his arms, looking in every direction attempting
to avoid your gaze.
“Well,” he says finally, “best get back to work!”
He stands and leaves swiftly, once again avoiding your stare.
Your eyes follow him as he walks across the camp to a large tent. As
he bends to duck under the half-opened flap you notice just how
small he seems; at least a foot shorter than you. He could easily be
half your weight too.
You watch people busying themselves with work, dashing between

tents and down the impromptu streets amidst temporary structures.
Those around you are a mixed bunch. Most are young, though a
handful of older individuals also occupy the camp. People of all
genders and backgrounds – a collection of misfits and outcasts, hard
to lump into a single group.
It must be an instinct, you think. An inner quality that they, like you,
draw upon in their daily work. A need to survive outside of the
confines of the life you were presented at birth.
In your former life you grew used to being the meanest and the
toughest of all the people you knew. You never felt a part of the
lifestyle you were surrounded by. In the times when you felt most ill
at ease with your life you imagined yourself as a caged animal,
trapped by a society built to stifle your potential. Perhaps that
wasn’t so far from the truth.
All around you, you see people walk with the same swaggering
confidence you always prided yourself in. Harsh scowls and frowns
set in stone. Clenched jaws and scraped knuckles. You feel, for
perhaps the first time in your life, as though you are surrounded by
people that share your hatred for the gentle softness of the world
that coddled you and held you back for years.
You allow yourself a small smile.
Add Hand-to-Hand Combat (S.3) to your character sheet.
Turn to 1.9.
1.8
“Oh, I see!” he remarks, in poorly veiled surprise. “I don’t think
we’ve had any academics stay with us yet…”
As he speaks, you feel a sense of apprehension in
his voice. He squints and scans you up and down, as if looking for
some indication of your usefulness to the colony.
“Have you been a researcher all your life?” he asks, attempting once
again to hide his scepticism.
You nod silently at him, uncomfortable from the suspicion that
seems to emanate through his words. Jan hums for a while,
seemingly having run out of conversation to have with someone
who doesn’t prove themselves.
“Well,” he says as he stands to leave. “You pull your weight and
we’re happy to have all sorts!” He speaks to you the way someone
might speak to a child, pandering and pitiful. As he turns to leave
you feel a sense of awkwardness overcome you as you realise you
are blushing.
Although you were used to reactions like his, in this world it feels
more intense than it ever has. All of your life you felt a need to prove
your worth around those that ran the vault. The teamsters,
engineers and builders that you were always taught kept you alive,
always
occupied a special position of respect that you had never gained and
wanted so desperately.
No matter the breakthroughs you made in your work you were
always made to feel like a spare part. Whenever you attempted to
talk to anyone about your discoveries you were met with the same
reactions: confused, narrowed eyes, and the slow head-nodding of
someone who doesn’t really believe what you’re doing is important.
You spent your life hidden from the working world in archives and
labs, slowly plodding away at your research beneath artificial
lighting while the rest of the world fed and protected you. You never
had the confidence to cite the depth of your knowledge; never knew
how to make the callous-handed and muscle-bound appreciate the
brilliance of your mind.
You knew more, on paper, about the old world than anyone you’d
ever met. While every expedition reported back findings and
recordings, you were the only one to collect that knowledge
together, tie it into some sort of semblance of understanding of the
old world.
You grew to love it, this place of danger and wonder and adventure
outside of the walls of your home.
But the longer you spent there the more… tedious it became. Not the
stories of the old world itself but the same reports of weather, flora
and fauna which went by in cycles, never revealing anything you
hadn’t already read in a book or a report from the past. You wanted
more. You needed more.
It seemed like an ordinary night, the night you changed your life, but
you remembered it as if it were yesterday. You had added the most
recent audio log into your official archives and looked around your
office. The walls were covered with sketches and photos all
depicting a world you had never actually stepped foot into. Even
though the place was crowded, it seemed hollow and empty. You sat
in silent contemplation for a moment – while a world of possibilities

darted across your mind. In an instant a plan was formulated. You
picked up a pen and wrote your letter of resignation.
You count the days in your head.
94.
Just three months ago.
Add Knowledge (S.4) to your character sheet.
Turn to 1.9.
1.9
Sleep doesn’t come easily that night. It’s odd to be on terra firma for
the first time in nearly a month. The ground beneath you feels
wrong without the gentle sway of the ocean to rock you to sleep.
You remember what Vola had told you, to trust in yourself. Vola was
in her eighties and had taken a shine to you in the vault as a child.
You spent a lot of time around her, listening to her stories and songs.
You wish she were here right now to believe in you when you
couldn’t.
The next day you wake early. Stepping out from your tent you are
met with a biting coldness that stings at your face; at least it helps to
wake you up. You pull your jacket tight, placing your boot onto an
untouched carpet of frost that sparkles in the early morning sun,
and you’re quietly reminded just how beautiful this place really is.
The only other company out here for you is at the centre of the camp
where a young woman is crouched at the fire pit. Her hands tremble
and quake as she struggles to light the pile of tinder and sticks
collected there. She doesn’t bother looking at you, either too
engrossed in her work or simply not interested.
With your hands tucked into your armpits you wander out in search
of something to do, and find yourself drawn to the only source of
noise at the edge of the camp, where the mess tent stands. As you
approach you hear the busy clatter of breakfast preparations. The
smell of cooked food drifts on the breeze and you breathe in deep,
the cold biting at your nose. You exhale, and a cloud of steam billows
from you in two thick streams, reminding you of the stories of fire-
breathing dragons you were read as a child.
You stand still for a moment and from the edge of the camp you look
out to the old world. Beyond your position stretches a vast open
plain of small hills and tall grass. The grasslands sway gently in the
wind. Under the rising sun, the frost on every blade shines orange
and yellow. As you stare out to the horizon, the land before you rises
and falls like the ocean. The earth reverberates gently with the
thawing touch of the new day.
Behind you a bell rings. Not fast and anxious like a fire alarm, it rings
in slow deliberate chimes that echo throughout the camp.
You’re not sure how long you’ve been looking out across the sunlit
sea of grass, but when you turn to head back to the mess tent, a
handful of other settlers are beginning to gather.
You eat in silence at the end of a long table where six other quiet
types solemnly chew their porridge and dried fruit. The food, you
notice, is much like the rations you ate on the ship and you feel
disappointed. You had quietly dreamed all those nights you lay in
your ship bunk of what delicacies would await you, meat thick with
fat, rich ripe berries bursting juice down your chin as you bit into
them. Instead you chew another handful of dry, tough raisins and
force them down.
As you eat, you watch the activity around you, the growing
humdrum of life as more and more people stream into the tent.
Bleary-eyed individuals yawn, rubbing their eyes as they stand in

line. To the far end of the tent a pair of cooks work away at a
makeshift kitchen. Twenty, or maybe thirty, settlers are gathered
together to start their various day’s activities. The collected heat of
their bodies warms the cold air and a small steady blanket of steam
rises off of the group of you. Chatter begins to break out and you
even hear laughter occasionally. As they eat, the shabby canvas tent
feels cosy, almost homely.
As you scrape at the last remnants of food from your wooden bowl
Gaia enters the tent. She looks around for a second until you make
eye contact, acknowledging her with a small wave. She crosses the
mess, awkwardly knocking people out of the way to get to you. She
doesn’t notice the glowers she receives in return. As she sits beside
you she leans in close.
“You have a briefing in twenty minutes,” she says right in your ear in
order to be heard over the noise. “Sounds like Viktor and I are
scheduled to head back to the vault in a couple of days. Is there
anything you left on the boat?”
Add Mess Tent (F.1) to map near Location 1 (The Voyage).
“My chemistry set.” Turn to 1.10.
“The first aid kit.” Turn to 1.11.
“My flint and steel.” Turn to 1.12.
“My gun.” Turn to 1.13.
1.10
“Iknew you would say that,” she says, reaching into her pocket.
From it she pulls out a small roll of canvas about the size of a
newspaper and places it on the table in front of you. You undo the
straps and roll it out, inspecting the vials, tinctures, pipettes and
powders brought with you from the vault –
some which you had to sneak out from under the noses of the city’s
officials. It catches the attention of some diners around you,
elbowing each other to point out the strange trinkets.
“Don’t worry, it’s all there,” Gaia says proudly. “I checked it myself.”
Although you trust Gaia you cannot help but continue to inspect
your equipment, staring at what appears to be a crack on the lens of
your miniature microscope, and furrowing your brow.
“It’s just glass, you can fix it,” she says. You simply let out a huff in
response before rolling your kit back up and tucking it away into the
inner pocket of your jacket.
“I’ll never understand you boffin types,” she says with a roll of her
eyes, and takes a bite out of an apple she’s managed to swipe. Gaia
can be abrasive sometimes but you have to admit you’ll miss her
when she leaves in a couple of days. Until then, you’ll enjoy what
company of hers you have left.
Add Chemistry (S.5) to character sheet.
Turn to 1.14.
1.11
She lifts the hem of her heavy coat to her chest, revealing a utility
belt and first aid kit around her waist. Reaching back, she unclips it,
then lifts it from her hips, fastening the two ends together again, and
like a medal drapes it around your neck.
For a tender moment her hands linger at your neck and the pair of
you resemble a couple dancing slowly in the sterile, awkward
dances you went to as a teenager. You look into her eyes and say
nothing. She looks back and smiles, sliding her hands away from
around your neck.
“You look like a proper doctor now,” she says with a grin.
“I’m pretty sure doctors look a bit better than this,” you laugh and
gesture to yourself.
“Well, next supply run I’ll bring you a white coat, eh? Help seal the
deal.”
You smile as she leaves, and try to ignore the fact she’ll be gone in a
couple of days.
Add Medicine (S.6) to your character sheet.
Turn to 1.14.
1.12
“Feeling the cold already?” she asks with a wry smile, the rosiness in
her cheeks giving away the chill she’s feeling too.
She reaches into her pocket and pulls from it a pair of silver sticks,
like two toothless keys, joined on a short chain. She twirls them
around her finger for a moment and then throws them to you.
You catch them and stuff them into your pocket as you smile in
return.
“They tell me it gets better in the summer months.” As she talks, a
thin cloud of steam rises from her mouth and curls into the cold air.
“I don’t envy you staying here till then.”
“Hopefully I’ll be too busy to notice the cold,” you say hopefully, but
even as the words leave your mouth you know they’re a lie. With a
sad smile she turns and leaves the tent without another word, and
as you watch her go you slide your hand back into your pocket,
fingering the cold metal that lies there.
Add Survival (S.7) to your character sheet.
Turn to 1.14.
1.13
You indicate the rifle at her shoulder. With her arm across her chest
she supports its heavy weight. Where the metal of the gun pulls
down at the strap, her whole body leans inwards, encumbered by
the mass of it. She isn’t used to carrying the thing around like you
are.
“Of course,” she says, lifting it from her shoulder. She places your
weapon in front of you with a heavy thud. A handful of people look
up from their breakfast – some eye the gun nervously, others seem
indifferent. Maybe they’ve no need for these weapons here.
Gaia takes a seat beside you. She reaches into her pocket and pulls
out a fistful of bullets. One by one she counts them out onto the
table, placing each one in a line that stretches across the table.
When she’s done the effect looks like they’re the spines of some
great sea monster rising from the water. She leans in close to speak
in your ear.
“Jan told me they haven’t used a gun in ages,” she mutters quietly.
“‘Nothing that deadly,' he says. I don’t know if he was bluffing
though.”
You nod your head slowly, continuing to look down at your bowl.
“I could always take it back home…” she says. Before she continues,
you look up and into her eyes. You feel most comfortable with it by
your side. Relenting, she sighs and says, “Of course, if you want it...”
The pair of you sit for a moment. Nearby, a couple of settlers look in
your direction. As you scan the room, you make eye contact. Each
one meets your eyes, then looks away quickly, unwilling to attract
your attention. You stand to leave, hoisting the gun to your shoulder.
As you exit the tent you look back to Gaia, who lifts her hand in a
half-hearted wave.
Add Sharpshooter (S.8) to your character sheet.
Turn to 1.14.
1.14
After breakfast, you make your way to the makeshift control centre,
a small tent no bigger than the mess room. Its only distinguishing
feature is that, next to it, a portable radio tower has been erected,
standing strong and true in the cold wind.
Inside the tent a couple of people you haven’t met yet look over a
map, talking to each other about minutiae that you assume must
only be known by the heads of the camp.
As you enter, the one facing the doorway looks up. He is tall, with a
shaved head and clean-cut beard. His dark skin seems dry and ashy
from the cold climate. His lips are cracked and rough and his eyelids
are dusty with flakes of skin.
“Good to see you,” he says in a loud and confident voice. “My name is
Fanon, this is Mari. Sorry we couldn’t meet with you yesterday, but
it was important we started getting supplies sorted.
How was your journey?”
Behind him the girl looks up from the table. She has the man’s nose
and chin but is much younger than him – clearly his daughter.
Her eyes are dark and when she extends a hand for you to shake you
find it cold and dry. She remains passive as you tell her and Fanon
about your journey.
Fanon listens intently, nodding every now and then and occasionally
interjecting with a question. After a moment he beckons you to the
table, where a hand-drawn map is laid out, pinned at the corners
with small silver tacks. Around the map a host of cartography tools
lie in wait, muddled with pre-war photographs, which appear to
have been studied and marked on their map.
“The old satellite images give us a rough idea of the landscape,”
says Mari, her voice just as dour as her countenance, “but we rely on
scouting parties to make the majority of our reports. That will be
your job.”
“Here,” says Fanon, indicating a point on the map, “is where the
camp is now. And here is where we hope to establish the first
settlement…” As he speaks he draws his finger slowly across the
map, moving the tip with the contours and geography of the land. It
skims across fields, between hills and over streams to an open patch
of land a few kilometres from where the three of you currently
stand.
He stabs his finger down once again as if to drive the point home.
“We’re very excited about this project!”
“You’re very excited,” mutters Mari.
You follow the line he draws and take in the details of the map.
Your mind can’t help but begin to wonder about what dangers there
are here. It is the old world after all. There’s no telling what could be
waiting just around the corner, ready to pick you off at any time.
“The problem is,” Mari continues, “there are too many unknowns for
me to sign off on this in full confidence. We’re being told to move
inland by Control but I cannot risk a full stage settlement if the land
is not... tenable.” The final word hangs in the air for a moment,
exuding an awkwardness that you notice immediately.
You look up from the map to her face, but see no indication in her
expression of the true meaning of her words. A brief moment of
silence passes before Fanon speaks up, jabbing his finger at the map
again as he does.
“Two weeks ago we sent a party out here to investigate a pre-war
site we think may still be standing. They didn’t have much to report
back but we want a follow up.” He points towards an area on the
map which is mostly blank. You take a moment to run your eyes
across the map again, and this time you notice that as the land
moves further from the coast it becomes sparser. The details of the
land that have been filled in seem to fade from reality into blank
paper. And, beyond the boundaries of the map, nothing at all exists.
No markings. Simply an unknown blend of mystery and historical
conjecture. Nothing real. Nothing ‘tenable’.
“But more pressingly than that,” interrupts Mari, “is the survivor
settlement.”
“Suspected settlement,” Fanon interjects, looking at you as if he’s
worried her words will scare you off.
“Yes, yes, suspected settlement.” She indicates a blank section of the
map somewhere along the coastline, where the vague outlines of the
shore have been sketched out as disjointed fragments resembling
cracks in the earth. Some join together into long, unbroken lines.
Some are fractured and disparate, floating disconnected from
anything else. On one side the endless sea stretches across the map,
from the table and far off into the distance.
Beyond the barrier of these lines lies a total unknown.
“We’ve had mixed reports of survivors gathering in this area. We
suspect a fishing village. Perhaps even some trade. But we can’t
confirm anything.”
“I refuse to send this expedition anywhere near those savages until
we know they’re no threat,” says Mari. Her tone is calm and
measured. Her language does not seem hateful, or even fearful, but
she speaks as if every word is an objective fact.
“We have some time before the camp is ready to move,” says Fanon.
“We’re sending you out tomorrow morning. We expect you back
within a week with your findings. Oh, and one more thing.”
He reaches over and attaches something to the front of your coat.
It’s a badge, one you recognise – the official sigil of the vault marking
you as an explorer for them.
And with those words, he’s sealed your fate.
END.
Add The Powerplant (CH3, L.3), The Ship (CH5, L.5), The
Seaside Farm (S.1, L.S1) and The Storm (CH2, L.2) to map.
Turn to Chapter 2.
CHAPTER 2
THE STORM
2.1
It feels odd to wake up on solid ground. Over the past three weeks
you got used to the feeling of the ocean beneath you; it had gradually
grown to become comforting, like a mother rocking her child. The
firm ground disorientates you with its stillness, as if you’ve been run
aground.
Knowing you won’t be able to get any more sleep, you sit up in your
bedroll and run your hands over your face, trying to massage heat
into it with stiff fingertips. At least that’s one thing which hasn’t
changed. It’s just as cold in the mornings here as it was on the open
ocean. You miss the comfort of the artificial heat of the vault, electric
generators chugging out warmth into the little living abodes.
Nowadays, you’re lucky to wake up with any feeling in your toes.
You unzip the door to your tent and stick your head out. There’s
frost settling on the grass and you can see your breath leave your
mouth in little silver puffs. The camp is already quite busy, the
inhabitants bustling about and attending to their morning business.
You feel nervous and excited about what’s to come. You’re about to
become a legend. Maybe you’ll find something of such worth that
they’ll add your findings to the history books, write your name in
print
for children to learn about in lessons. Either way, this is the most
adventure that you’ve ever had.
The frost crunches beneath the tread of your boot as you head out
for the day. You collapse your tent in a few quick expert movements
and attach it to your pack. Nobody pays you any mind or offers to
help – you suppose they’re too caught up in their own lives to
bother.
With everything assembled you decide to seek out a familiar face.
There’s still a pile of crates from a couple of days prior - they’re
being dismantled, with camp inhabitants hauling them in various
directions. Overseeing the whole operation is Jan. He smiles at you
warmly as you approach him.
“How did you sleep?” he asks. You’re taken aback by the question
and clearly show it on your face because he laughs. It’s not
something you’re used to being asked – on the ship you, Gaia and
Viktor rarely bothered with pleasantries like that, most of your time
being used to keeping yourselves afloat or occasionally reminiscing
about your childhood in the vault.
“Fine,” you say, omitting the part where you found it difficult to
sleep without the odd but reassuring lullaby of gulls.
“Good to hear. You’ll be needing all your strength I reckon, eh?
Heading off for your big adventure?” he smiles even brighter and
you try to ignore the fact his constant cheerfulness is mildly
irritating.
“You know where the breakfast tent is. You’ll probably want to get
something to eat before you head out. Before you go though, would
you like a shower?”
A shower? Your eyes widen in surprise. You’ve been washing with
cold water from buckets. A shower seems like a luxury, one you
never thought you’d get in the new world.
“Yes” – Turn to 2.19.

“No” – Turn to 2.20.
2.2
You find Gaia and Viktor by the ship. Viktor and a couple of other
men from camp are loading empty crates back on board. Gaia stands
with her hands on her hips overseeing the whole operation – or,
perhaps more accurately, giving the illusion of overseeing it, and in
fact just trying to do as little work as possible.
She waves at you as she sees you cresting a hill and walking over to
her.
“We reckon we’re heading back out today. Maybe tomorrow
morning, depending how long it takes these lazy dogs to pack the
ship back up!”
Viktor shoots her a rude gesture and she throws her head back and
laughs. When that dries up, she turns back to you, an unfamiliar look
of sincerity on her face.
“So you’re really doing it, eh? Taking on the old world?”
“I suppose so,” you reply. She nods, slowly, looking back over
towards the sea.
“You’re much braver than I could ever be, you know. You’ll be fine.
You’re resourceful and you’re smart. But,” she looks like she’s not
sure whether to say the next part or not, “you could always come
back with us. I don’t think anyone would judge you, you know.”
You consider this. Your family would probably be glad to have you
back, knowing you weren’t disappearing into the unknown without
support. But you could imagine the looks of pity from Mari and
Fanon and your stomach churns. You can’t. You can’t go back now.
You’ve come too far.
“I thought you’d say that,” sighs Gaia when you tell her. “You’re also
a stubborn ass. Just be careful, all right?”
She looks like she wants to tell you more, but you both turn when
you hear her name. One of the crates has come loose and Viktor is
desperately scrambling to re-secure it; he needs help. Gaia curses
and jogs over, leaving you standing alone on the hillock, watching
your travelling companions try and solve their problems without
you.
It’s strange. It makes you feel a bit lonely.
Turn to 2.5.
2.3
You hear Mari before you see her, barking orders to the group
around her. She speaks too quickly and too gruffly for you to
actually make out any of her words, but her posse seems to be well
versed in her particular language and are running off to different
areas of the camp at her behest. She raises an eyebrow when she
sees you.
“I thought you’d be off,” she says.
“I was. I am. I just… I’m not sure where to go first,” you confess.
She rolls her eyes at you and it makes you feel about a foot tall.
“Didn’t we discuss this yesterday? I told you where you should go. I
even marked it out on your map.”
Clearly you must look upset because she goes on to sigh and rub her
eyes.
“Look,” she says, her voice softer now, “I know you’re nervous.
But you have to rely on your own judgement. In the field, you’re not
always going to have someone to help you. Make a decision and stick
with it. You were sent out here for a reason, right? Now go and live
up to it.”
It’s a short and strange pep talk, but there is truth in it. They
wouldn’t have put you on the boat to the old world if they didn’t
think
you had the courage to explore it. It’s time to start listening to your
gut.
“Thank you,” you say, and Mari gives you a smile, something which
you’re not sure you’ve actually seen her do before.
“All right, now off you go, before the day runs away with you.”
You don’t need telling twice, newly full of resolve, ready to take on
whatever the old world has to throw at you.
Turn to 2.5.
2.4
You find Fanon tucked away in the corner of the camp, sitting on a
bench and fiddling with something in his hands. It’s still quite early
in the morning, not much past dawn, but he already looks tired.
Then again you suppose he and Mari do run this camp. They have a
lot more responsibility on their shoulders than everyone else and
part of that probably involved being the earliest risers. Despite this,
he still smiles at you as you make your way over to him.
“Our new scout. How does the morning find you?” he asks.
“Fine... nervous,” you confess. He shuffles over and pats the now
freed-up seat next to him. You accept the invitation and feel glad
that he’s already warmed it up for you.
“I was one of the first ones to come here, you know. Go exploring in
this world. Mari was only a child back then. Her mother had passed
and I wanted a new life for us… and as you know, the options in the
vault aren’t exactly varied.” He sighs and you see what’s in his hands
now – it’s a little wood figurine which he’s carving with a sharp
knife. “Let me tell you, the first time? It’s always terrifying. But you
were sent out here for a reason. They must have
thought you could stomach it. And so do I. Have faith in yourself,

kid.”
When he smiles, the wrinkles around his mouth become more
pronounced. You imagine him as a young man with a baby daughter
in tow, coming to this world with no information whatsoever. He
must have been so brave.
Now it’s your turn to find that bravery too.
“All right,” you tell him, nodding firmly. He claps you on the shoulder
with a large hand.
“You’ll be fine, young one. I know it.”
It’s a reassuring thing to hear.
Turn to 2.5.
2.5
Compass. Map. Tent. Bedroll. Food. Water.
Reasonably, you know there’s no way they can’t all be
there. Nobody’s been in your pack except you. Also, you checked
only thirty seconds ago.
But it’s reassuring, the repetition. It brings you comfort each time
that you know you’re ready for whatever is going to come your way.
You say your goodbyes. Fanon shakes your hand firmly and wishes
you luck. Even Mari manages a couple of words of reassurance. Gaia
gives you a bear hug and a kiss on the cheek.
Viktor waves which, knowing him, is his equivalent of a bear hug
and a kiss on the cheek.
You tighten the straps of your pack firmly onto your back and head
out.
Your footsteps are firm and steady, not giving away the shaking in
your hands. You’re incredibly nervous. Scared, even. But with words
of encouragement ringing in your ears you keep going with your
head held high.
By midday you’re alone. The camp is long behind you, you’re neither
able to see it nor hear the bustling sounds of everyday life.
You’re truly on your own. It’s fine, you knew this would happen.
Expected it. But somehow you didn’t think it would be this quiet.
There’s the sound of the wind, obviously, you had that on the ocean
too – but apart from the odd squawk of a bird flying overhead on its
own journey there really is nothing. You try and hum to yourself,
little songs from your childhood, but they sound eerie against the
silence of the landscape. It’s better to just walk in silence than
attempt to fill the air with artificial noise.
It’s hard to tell how long has passed. You have no way of tracking
the hours precisely. But the sun rises and dips back, your shadow
echoing its decline and stretching far behind you. The world goes
from being bathed in a pale silver to a hearty orange. Just as you’re
beginning to think about when you should bunk down for the night,
you see a shape in the distance. You continue onwards, your
curiosity piqued.
The more distance you cover, the clearer it becomes. Silhouetted on
the horizon is a squat little building. It’s a sort of cottage, only one
storey, and absolutely isolated. The closer you get, the odder it
becomes. Why is this building here, of all places? In the middle of
nowhere? As far as you’re aware there aren’t any towns around. It’s
strange to find this place completely on its own.
Soon you’re close enough to get a good look at it. It’s a rundown
little place with its only company being a little copse of trees nearby.
A truly bizarre sight – and almost certainly worth investigating.
Look at the flora – Turn to 2.6.

Look at the fauna – Turn to 2.7.
Look for people – Turn to 2.8, Needs Survival.
Inspect the house – Turn to 2.9, Needs Knowledge.
2.6
You’re interested in the tiny forest the building sits next to. It looks
like it was planted here on purpose; up to this point trees have
appeared only sporadically and all seemed to be oaks or hazels.
These seem to be a different type altogether. They’re a pretty silver
colour and they reach into the sky like spindly fingers, only leafing a
good halfway up.
You spend a bit of time investigating them. The bark is brittle
beneath your fingers and flakes away easily, though it’s difficult to
say if that’s because of how they are naturally or if it’s to do with the
radiation having an adverse effect on them over the years. You
scribble some notes down into your book about the trees and decide
it might be worth asking someone about them when you get back to
camp in a couple of days’ time.
Looking around the base of the trunks you decide that they can’t
have grown naturally. Each tree seems to be a specific distance from
its neighbours. Like it was planted intentionally all in one go.
Stepping back you try to take in the whole picture. The wind picks
up and whips around you, fiercely chilling your ears. You clamp your
hands over them for warmth when an idea occurs to you… what if
the trees are protection? A natural wall to stop the wind from
buffeting the inhabitants of the house? It’s an interesting idea,
certainly, and not one you were sure that the people of the old world
knew about. You make some more notes and then decide to test the
theory yourself, ducking behind them and out of the way of the
wind.
You hear a little crack under your foot and look down. You’ve
probably only stepped on a twig or something but you can’t see the
culprit as your foot is surrounded by a patch of wildflowers. They’re
pretty purple things and despite the harsh weather seem to be
thriving. You find yourself smiling. It’s nice to see a little slice of
beauty out here, you think. Gently you snap one off of its stem and
pop it between the pages of your journal, closing it and pressing it to
look back on later. Maybe you could give it to someone as a gift.
Add Sketch of Tree (F.5), Pressed Flower (F.6), and Berries (F.14)
to your notebook.
Head on from the cottage – Turn to 2.10.
Inspect further – Turn to 2.11.
2.7
Though the air was full of bird’s cries as you approached the cottage,
they’ve now all fallen strangely silent, leaving you alone with
nothing but the soft sound of the wind. Shielding your eyes from the
sun you cast your gaze upwards and see if you can spot any
silhouetted against the clouds. There appear to be a few riding the
updrafts and heading on their various journeys but from this far
away it’s impossible to tell what species they are.
You sigh and are about to resign yourself when you see movement
in the branches of one of the silver trees that surround you. You wait
a moment for the action to repeat and see that in amongst the fresh
green leaves, something is darting about. It’s carefully shrouded by
the foliage and is doing quite a good job at hiding, but cautiously you
approach to see if you can get a better look – making sure your
heavy boots aren’t causing too much of a ruckus in the undergrowth
to scare the creature off.
You’re about two feet from the tree when a little orange head pokes
out from amongst the leaves. It makes you jump but you manage to
suppress a yelp, opting to instead catch your breath in your throat to
silence yourself.
The animal is rodent-like and scurries head first down the bark. It
darts through the patches of flowers on the floor and sits for a
moment within touching distance. Its huge bushy tail twitches as it
sniffs the air with a tiny nervous nose. Its eyes are completely black
and it’s difficult to tell where exactly it’s looking but it must be
aware of you – you want to reach out to it but it darts off,
disappearing into the tall grass back towards the trees.
The memory still fresh, you take out your notepad and do some
rough, quick sketches of the curious animal. Perhaps someone back
in the camp will know something more about it.
Add Curious Animal (F.7) to your notebook.
2.8
You spend some time rooting through the grass around the area,
looking for any blades that might have been crushed underfoot, or
any footprints left where it’s been weathered through into dirt.
Nobody has trodden around the outside, you decide
– apart from you of course.
The dirt and grime on the windows of the cottage is thick and
layered from years of neglect, suggesting that it’s unlikely anyone is
inside, but you suppose there’s always a chance you’re wrong. You
grab a handful of leaves and use them as a makeshift cloth to wipe
some of the gunk away before peeping inside.
The house is dark, lit only from the inside by whatever sunlight is
filtering through from the dilapidated roof. You’re surprised by the
amount of furniture that’s inside. It’s not dissimilar to your home in
the vault – a little kitchenette, a worn sofa in one corner with once-
colourful pillows thrown haphazardly on it, and a table which has
had the chairs placed upside down on it. As if the owners were
trying to keep it clean and expected to come back.
You wonder if they were evacuated, but you can’t imagine getting
any more out of the way of danger than all the way out here.
Whatever happened to the previous owners will forever be a

mystery, you suppose, sadly.
2.9
The cottage is definitely old, and not just ‘old’ in the sense it was
built pre-war. Well it was, obviously, but it seems like it was made
even further back than you thought at first glance.
Looking at the architecture of the roof, the support beams inside…
this might even have been constructed in the 1900s.
It’s an astounding thought that something over two hundred years
old could have survived the dropping bombs. Then again, you’re
probably far enough away out here that none of the actual
explosions caused any damage, there was probably only the
lingering impact of the radiation to worry about. The single thing the
structure has had to weather was the actual weather. Then again
with nobody to look after it since god knows when it really has
begun to fall apart, you think, noting the way the whole building is
beginning to slope to the side.
Nevertheless it’s an incredibly interesting piece of history. You make
a note of it on your map and decide to check in with someone about
it back at camp.
Add Cottage Sketch (F.2) to map near Location 2 (The Storm).
2.10
Satisfied with your research for the day, you tuck your notepad back
into the side pocket of your pack. You think you’ve wrung as much
information as you can out of this site for the moment, and you’re
excited to see what else the world has to throw at you.
The sun is setting but if you start moving now you think you can
probably get a couple more miles under your belt before the day is
out. Yes, you decide, the best thing to do is to get a bit more
travelling done and then bunk down for the night. You can decide
which way to head tomorrow morning.
You set off in high spirits towards the horizon, making sure to keep
yourself on track with steady footing and your compass. About
twenty minutes go by uninterrupted when you feel the first drop on
your cheek. It makes you jump; you weren’t expecting it and it’s
shockingly cold. You put out a hand to feel if there’s a deluge on the
way. A few more spatter onto your hand and leave shiny little circles
in their wake. So far, it doesn’t seem to be too bad, but weeks of
sailing have taught you that it’s foolish to underestimate the
flightiness of weather.
Try to check the weather – Turn to 2.12.

Keep going – Turn to 2.13.
2.11
You think there’s probably more that’s worth exploring here.
It’s your first trip out after all, and you want to make sure that
you’re researching the area as thoroughly as you can.
Look at the flora – Turn to 2.6.
Look at the fauna – Turn to 2.7.
Look for people – Turn to 2.8, Needs Survival.
Inspect the house – Turn to 2.9, Needs Knowledge.
If you have exhausted all of the above possible options – Turn to
2.10.
2.12
You scan the sky, using a hand to protect you from the orange glare
of the low sun. Inland the sky is clear, but as soon as you turn and
look back the way you came, the sky’s story is different.
Heavy storm clouds are coming in from over the sea, swallowing the
horizon with their breadth. They’re a thick, dark grey, pregnant with
the promise of torrential rain and thunder. Even from here you can
see where they streak from the underside, already letting a
downpour loose – it’s probably beginning to soak the camp given
how close to the coast it is. Rain like that will wash away everything
in its path with destructive and unforgiving force, and the lightning
will crack down into the land, scorching whatever it hits.
It’s not something you want to get caught up in.
You could try and hope it will be lighter by the time it gets to you
and push on, or you can make an expeditious retreat. There’s no way
you’re going to be able to get all the way to camp before the storm
gets to you proper… but you might be able to get back to the cottage
you passed on the way here. It’s not ideal but at least it’ll be
better to wait out the storm in a solid structure rather than your
flimsy tent, which could blow away with you still inside it.
Turn back – Turn to 2.14.
Head on – Turn to 2.13.
2.13
You keep going for a while, putting one foot surely in front of the
other, but the weather only gets worse. Soon not only is the rain
heavy enough to stick your hair to your forehead but the wind is
also desperately trying to buffet your pack off of you.
All around you the grass is turning into thick mud which tries to
keep your shoes sunk down inside it, almost as if it wants to keep
you prisoner, locked here forever to be left as a victim of the storm.
Each step is getting harder.
You think back earlier to Jan offering you a shower. Maybe your
answer would have been different if you’d known you’d be stuck in
this weather, your clothes getting rained through and you soaked to
the bone.
There’s no point. You’ve tried to brave it but if you stay out in this
weather you’re going to suffer, and that’s the very least that will
happen. You don’t want your first expedition to be your last.
With an irritated sigh because already the old world has got the
better of you, you turn around awkwardly in the mud and start the
long trek back to the cottage.
Turn to 2.14.
2.14
You’re fighting against the wind, and every moment you stay out in
the weather you’re only opening yourself up to more battering. It’s
approaching gale force now, sweeping your legs out from under you
and making you land face first in the rapidly rising mud. With effort
you pull yourself along but it’s gruelling, tiring work. It’s you, just a
single human against the rhapsody of nature.
You can’t even tell how close you are to the cottage; any effort to
look forward is thwarted by the sting of the wind. All you can do is
clutch your trusty compass in your gloved hand and hope you
stumble across your destination if you keep going.
Someone must be looking out for you, you think, because soon
you’re passing those silver trees you recognise from only a couple of
hours ago. Before they were enchanting, a little mysterious, but now
that the clouds have overtaken the sunlight, they look dark and
eerie, like gnarled broken fingers desperately reaching up towards
the bleak sky, a traveller fallen.
You shake your head to clear the thought from your mind and use
the last crumb of strength you have to hurry to the door. You try the
handle and find it sticks. That’s not good enough for you. Stepping
back as far as the wind will allow, you take a run at the door,
shoulder first. Thankfully, it gives way on the first attempt and you
find yourself tumbling into the dank interior of the little squat
house.
You’re met with a cloud of dust that has you choking wildly. This
place has clearly not been touched for years. You’re an invader here
and that has unsettled something fierce. The wind rushing in doesn’t
help, with gusts blowing up everything around inside. You clamber
to your feet and shove the door back into its frame, cutting off the
wind and shoving a chair under the handle to make sure it stays
closed. It still rattles fiercely but at least it isn’t letting the weather
in.
Finally safe you take a moment to observe your surroundings.
The cottage is quite dark and cold, but even though there’s a few
gaps where the walls have given way it’s still a heck of a lot better
than outside. You cup your hands over your mouth and blow into
them, desperately trying to force the heat back into your
extremities, with only the sound of the storm outside to keep you
company.
Set up for the night – Turn to 2.15.
Inspect the cottage – Turn to 2.16.
2.15
You tread carefully over the worn wooden floor and try to find a dry
spot to hitch your tent up in. It might seem excessive but you’re not
sure how well this place will hold up in the storm and you don’t
want to risk going to bed in just your bedroll only to wake up
completely drenched anyway.
Eventually you find a little cupboard door which opens without any
resistance. The inside of the tiny room is lined with shelves, perhaps
suggesting it was once for food. It sits empty now, save for a few
cobwebs of long-dead spiders. You erect your tent in the space and
take off your wet clothes, laying them across the back of the sofa to
try and dry them out before the next day. You consider lighting a fire
but decide against it, instead opting to turn in for an early night.
You’re incredibly tired and just want to get some sleep.
You tuck yourself away in your makeshift bed, watching the way the
lightning starts to light up outside. It’s hard to ignore the horrid clap
of thunder – at least last time you weathered a storm you had Viktor
and Gaia to give you support, to make jokes and get through it
together. Now you’re completely alone, hidden from the outside
world. You snuggle down and think of the warmth of the vault
before you close your eyes and fall asleep out of sheer exhaustion.
You’re lucky that you don’t wake during the night, instead sleeping
straight through the cacophony. At the very least the house has
provided a bit of a sound barrier between you and the storm.
You wake up the next day feeling surprisingly well rested and a lot
warmer than you would have, had you tried to stay out during the
night.
Sunlight is trickling in through the grubby windows. At least it
appears the storm has passed. You thankfully find your clothes
mostly dry – the wind blowing through the building must have
helped them along. You dress and gather your things before
stepping out into the day.
The storm has left its mark. The ground is still viscous with mud.
The crisp grass you saw yesterday has been all but drowned in the
downpour. In fact, it looks like a couple of trees have been uprooted
too. You’re incredibly lucky you got here, you think. You wonder if
the others were as lucky – you’d better go back and check on them,
as well as making sure they know you’re alive.
Inspect the damage to the cottage – Turn to 2.17.
Go back to camp – Turn to 2.18.
2.16
The cottage shows all the signs that a family once lived here.
There are photographs hung on the wall, and even though the
pictures in them have faded you can still see repeated smiling faces
staring back out at you. Inspecting further reveals two bedrooms,
one with a double bed, and one with two beds stacked on top of each
other. There’s a dollhouse in the latter room, and a dusty box of toys
tucked into the corner. Teddy bears and plastic people stare up at
you with sad, forgotten eyes. You don’t linger in that room for too
long; you feel a pang of sadness in your chest.
In the main room your eyes are drawn to a table. It has chairs
stacked on it, their seats faced downwards and legs in the air. Like
the people who once lived here only put them that way temporarily,
to keep the dust off, and had every plan to return. You wonder what
happened to them. Then again there’s no point going down that road
– what happened to them was probably what happened to most of
the people during the war.
Turn to 2.15.
2.17
The cottage has well and truly taken a beating. The roof shingles
that had stood the test of time now lie around the perimeter of the
cottage, a strange wall now separating it from the rest of the world.
A window has been blown through, something you’re surprised you
didn’t hear happening last night.
You’re thankful it didn’t impact your sleep.
One, two… three trees have been uprooted, taking a few chunks of
others with them. Their roots are bared sadly to the sky. Those that
stayed in the ground still lost branches in the storm – you can see
them trailed up to thirty feet away and you’re certain there will be
more even further.
You tug your pack on and leave behind the wreckage of the site, glad
that the cottage could help at least one more person before it
inevitably falls to time. For now though, you can’t afford to wax
poetic on it. You need to get back to camp and check on everyone.
Your pace is more hurried than it was yesterday. You don’t have the
excitement of adventure fuelling you, rather the stomach-clench of
anxiousness. You hope nobody was hurt in the storm. Gods, you
hope Viktor and Gaia didn’t cast off last night! There’s no way your
little boat could have survived that maelstrom. You go from a walk
to
a trot to a run as you clamber over the hill that should overlook your
camp…
…to find nothing.
There’s nothing there.
You scramble down to where the camp was. It’s hard to tell because
of the way the rain beat the ground but you can tell where the tents
used to sit. Over there was the breakfast hall, and that was the
command tent – but now they’re all gone.
Were they blown away? No, you think. Surely you’d see evidence of
that. And then you see the cart tracks, almost invisible, full up with
muddy water – the only indication of what happened.
They left. They ran away from the storm.
Without you.
You fall to your knees, not caring about the muck that gets on your
trousers. You’re alone. They ran and you’re alone. They forgot about
you.
Panic swells in your breast. What if they don’t come back? What if
you’re stuck here forever in this strange land? What if you never go
home again?
No. There’s no point going down this path. You squeeze your eyes
shut and force your breathing to calm. They had to get away from
the storm. They were so close to the coast they’d have been
drowned otherwise. All you have to do is track them down. And you
still have your assignment, to explore the old world.
You’ll be fine, you tell yourself. People have faith in you.
So why won’t your hands stop shaking?

END.
To show that you’ve completed this chapter, place one of the black
circle stickers around this chapter's location sticker on the map. You
may not return to locations marked in this way (though you may be
instructed to).
You may now start exploring new locations. More locations will be
added through exploration. Pick an available location from those
revealed on the map and turn to the start of that chapter.
2.18
You don’t turn back to look at the cottage as you leave. You don’t
want to see what state it’s in, you don’t want to relive last night. You
just want to get back to camp and let everyone know you’re all right.
You had tried to prepare yourself for a lot of things but taking a
beating by the weather on the first night wasn’t what you had
primed yourself for.
Your pace is more hurried than it was yesterday. You don’t have the
excitement of adventure fuelling you, rather the stomach-clench of
anxiousness. You hope nobody was hurt in the storm. Gods, you
hope Viktor and Gaia didn’t cast off last night! There’s no way your
little boat could have survived that maelstrom.
It seems to take ages to cross the land. A disgustingly long time; you
feel sick from the exertion and also from the worry. You go from a
walk to a trot to a run as you clamber over the hill that should
overlook your camp…
…to find nothing.
There’s nothing there.
You scramble down to where the camp used to be. It’s hard to tell
because of the way the rain beat the ground but you can tell where
the tents used to sit. Over there was the breakfast hall, and that was
the command tent – but now they’re all gone.
Were they blown away? No, you think. Surely you’d see evidence of
that, a wrecked tent or a blown-down block. The storm couldn’t
have swept them away completely, off into the sea with no
remains…
could it? Your heart pounds ferociously in your chest as you
desperately scan the sea for anything (or anyone, you grimly muse)
bobbing around on the surface.
You don’t see anything. But you do see the cart tracks, almost
invisible, full up with muddy water – the only indication of what
happened.
They left. They ran away from the storm.
Without you.
You fall to your knees, not caring about the muck that gets on your
trousers. You’re alone. They ran and you’re alone. They forgot about
you.
Panic swells in your breast. What if they don’t come back? What if
you’re stuck here forever in this strange land? What if you never go
home again?
No. There’s no point going down this path. You squeeze your eyes
shut and force your breathing to calm. They had to get away from
the storm. They were so close to the coast they’d have been
drowned otherwise. All you have to do is track them down. And you
still have your assignment, to explore the old world.
You’ll be fine, you tell yourself. People have faith in you.
So why won’t your hands stop shaking?

END.
To show that you’ve completed this chapter, place one of the black
circle stickers around this chapter's location sticker on the map. You
may not return to locations marked in this way (though you may be
instructed to).
You may now start exploring new locations. More locations will be
added through exploration. Pick an available location from those
revealed on that map and turn to the start of that chapter.
2.19
“Yes! I mean, yes please,” you tell him. Jan grins even wider, if that
was even possible.
“I thought you might want one. Not to say that you need it!” he
corrects himself quickly, and decides to end his sentence before he
gets in any deeper. He leads you over to one of the sturdiest blocks
in the camp, one that appears to have had effort put into its
construction rather than just being some form of tent.
“Do you have a towel?” Jan asks. You rummage in your pack until
you bring it out, a weathered, blue thing. “Right, pick a cubicle then –
hopefully there should be some warm water left.”
It seems this building has been divided into small rooms. There are
half a dozen doors all in a line, behind some of which you can hear
the sound of rushing water. You try a door handle, find it opens, and
walk through.
You’re met with a small washroom. A single bulb tries to illuminate
the place but is dim enough that it fails spectacularly. You can see
enough to tell that the floor is cheap linoleum and still wet from the
person who showered in here before you. The only items are a
showerhead with a basic on/off switch and a bench for your
belongings. Locking the door you strip down and stand in front of
the
nozzle, making sure to grab a bar of soap from your pack before you
start the water.
You jump at the feeling of it hitting your skin. It’s… refreshing. Jan
was right, you’re lucky enough that there’s still hot water. The
warmth of it sings over you and steam begins to fill up the little
room, obscuring your vision, but it’s a small price to pay for the
wonderful sensation. Bit by bit your numb extremities come back to
life from the cold. You wiggle your toes in the run-off and the splash
tickles.
Rubbing the soap between your hands you feel the lather build up
before you work it over your body and into your hair. A fresh
chemical scent fills up the area as you scratch the dirt away from
your skin with chipped nails, nearly rubbing yourself raw with the
effort of cleaning, but relishing being properly free from grime for
the first time since you left shore.
You want to luxuriate in the shower but know it isn’t fair to the
other members of the camp, for you to come in out of nowhere and
steal all their hot water away. Reluctantly you wash away the last
suds still clinging on and then switch the stream off, drying yourself
roughly and putting on a fresh lot of clothes from your pack. You’ll
need to wash the old ones, you think. They’re beginning to get a bit
ripe.
You step back out into the cold weather, but feel far more refreshed
than you did this morning. You’re glad you got to take this chance,
be warm and comfortable again. You head to the breakfast tent, still
happy in the feeling of being clean, and fill up a bowl with thick
milky porridge and dried fruit. It’s only when you’re actually eating
that the thought resurfaces, you’re probably going to want to head
out after this.
Add the Shower Perk (P.1) to your character sheet – once, any time,
if you are told to add +1 Instability, you may choose to ignore it.
Find Gaia – Turn to 2.2.
Find Mari – Turn to 2.3.
Find Fanon – Turn to 2.4.
Head out into the Old World – Turn to 2.5.
2.20
You shake your head.
“No, I want to get going. I don’t want to waste any sunlight,” you say.
Jan shrugs.
“Suit yourself. Offer’s on the table if you change your mind,” he tells
you. You wish him well and head to the breakfast tent.
It’s busy, just like it was yesterday. You stand in a queue before a
middle-aged woman who spoons out a bowl of porridge to you and
hands you a small pile of dried berries. You tuck yourself away on
the end of a dining bench and dig into the meal. It’s not bad; the
porridge is thick and milky and the berries explode with flavour on
your tongue.
It’s that thought that makes you realise: after you’ve eaten, you’re
probably going to want to head out. Into the remnants of the old
world for the first time. Absolutely on your own.
Find Gaia – Turn to 2.2.
Find Mari – Turn to 2.3.
Find Fanon – Turn to 2.4.
Head out into the Old World – Turn to 2.5.
CHAPTER 3
THE POWERPLANT
3.1
You wake up early the next day. Dawn is creeping over the horizon
and sneaks in through the gap in your tent’s door.
There’s a mist which has risen with the morning, giving everything
in this new land a strange, ethereal glow. This world really is so far
from the cold, clinical walls of your old home.
Fingers numb with the cold that had also crept in, you gather your
pack together, rolling up your bedroll and dismantling your tent. It’s
so quiet out here. Back at home you’d be surrounded by the hum of
activity, of people going about their lives. But here it’s almost
entirely silent, save for the sound of the wind and occasional bird
call. It’s eerie, but pleasant – you’ve never heard wild birds so clearly
before.
You check your map while you make yourself a small breakfast from
the rations you took with you. Not too far from here is marked with
an old symbol that you recognise from your briefing to be some sort
of power facility. It seems like somewhere your group may have
gone to for safety, depending on what sort of condition it’s in. And
even if not, it’s definitely worth checking out for your original
mission.
Somewhat relieved to have decided on a plan, you roll up your map
and begin to head out.
The ground is hilly but, apart from the scrubs of pale green grass
desperately searching out the sunlight, it’s barren. It’s difficult to tell
how much time passes as you make your way there, your only
indicator is the sun desperately trying to light up the landscape. The
mist lifts as time passes and soon you’re able to spot the outline of a
building on the horizon, its shape strange and angular against the
curves of the natural land. With a renewed sense of purpose, you
walk towards it, excited at the possibility of finding your team.
The building is vast and grey – weather hasn’t been kind to it, it
looks weathered and worn. Several large windows have been
broken leaving only gaping holes with jagged glass ringing them.
Tall towers line the place – you remember seeing a book with an
illustration of a place like this once, smoke billowing out of them,
but now they sit neglected and barren. The metal framework that
seemed to help hold the place together is rusting through.
Search inside building – Turn to 3.2.
Explore perimeter – Turn to 3.3.
3.2
You carefully walk under the rusted scaffolding, keeping an eye for
any beams that may be prone to falling through and crushing you.
You consider calling out to see if anyone answers but you decide
against it, worrying that too loud a noise may startle anyone – or
anything – that’s nearby.
The main entrance to the plant might once have had some sort of
lock on it, a passcode even, to prevent the unwanted from getting in,
but it’s long since been bashed in. Now the doors are wide open with
a heavy dent in the middle. You wonder how much is going to be
salvageable if it’s already been raided, but decide it’s still worth a
look and you carefully make your way inside the building.
The room you walk into is simply vast. It must be at least five
storeys tall. Abandoned machinery sits all around the sides of the
room, complicated and mysterious in its nature. Apart from you and
a few spiders the place seems utterly, utterly empty.
Test the soil – Turn to 3.4, Needs Chemistry.
Try to pull apart the machinery – Turn to 3.5.
Look for written records – Turn to 3.6.
3.3
You decide not to push your luck by going into the main building.
Given the state of the outside you can only imagine how neglected
and dangerous the inside must be –
you allow yourself a moment to indulge in morbid fantasy, of you
walking along a platform inside and stepping on a loose bit of floor,
your leg going through rusted metal and cutting you into ribbons.
You shake the idea from your head, your toes curled, and instead
decide to inspect the rest of the grounds.
The place is just as vast on the outside but not complicated, so you
stick to the building’s wall as you walk around the perimeter.
After a few minutes of walking you spot a smaller structure – only
two levels, and though in just as much disrepair, far safer looking
than the main plant.
The wooden door leading into this second place seems to have
mostly rotted away and doesn’t put up a fight as you swing it open.
The room is full of worn desks and what appear to be some sort of
old computers, big blocks of things compared to what you used back
at the vault. You stand in front of one and attempt to switch it on –
unsurprisingly nothing happens. It would be a miracle if this sort of
technology had survived this amount of time.
Scanning the room once again, only a couple more things catch your
eye – in the back of the room there seems to be some heavier
machinery that may have once been important to the running of the
plant, and, even more interestingly, what seems to be a recent
footprint pressed into the dust of the moth-eaten carpet.
Inspect machinery – Turn to 3.5.
Try to follow human activity – Turn to 3.6.
Go back and try to scale the scaffolding – Turn to 3.7.
3.4
You squat down near the door where the floor is worn
through to bare soil and bring out your kit. In a matter of moments
you’ve taken a sample and are testing it for anything strange, or
anything that might be able to give you more information about this
place. You have a little machine you keep with you that can analyse
soil deposits and feed data back to you – it’s incredibly precious and
was parted with much reluctance from the science centre back
home.
You take a moment to observe the plant a bit further. There seem to
be plenty of doors in the place with an offer to spirit you away to do
more exploration. You can see on the ground floor what seems to be
a little room full of desks and cupboards – perhaps some sort of
place to do administration?
The machine pings loudly and knocks you out of your observations,
the strange mechanical noise echoing out through the chamber as
the machine spits out a small pile of printed results. You read them,
then clench your brow and read them again. They’re telling you that
there are signs of radioactivity here.
Perhaps that’s to be expected. They had to produce power some way
around here, and nuclear was a favoured method of the old
world.
Search for the source of the radiation – Turn to 3.8.
Inspect the offices – Turn to 3.6.
Inspect heavy machinery – Turn to 3.5.
3.5
The heavy machinery is well worn by the passage of time.
Any tiny lights that once may have lit the front panels up have long
since burst or burned out and the dials have been firmly rusted in
place. Nevertheless, you grip the sides and give it a strong pull. You
hear the groan of metal and a creak as it begins to come loose, and
you readjust your grip and pull it again. It comes away in your hands
and you take a look at the inside of the machinery.
Your face falls as you study it. The machine is mostly empty, just a
hollowed-out shell now. Any circuitry has been picked away –
clearly, people have been here before, but it’s impossible to tell how
long ago just by looking at this scavenging.
Inspect further – Turn to 3.9, Needs Engineering.
Explore offices – Turn to 3.6.
Go outside and scale the scaffolding – Turn to 3.7.
3.6
The office is full of sturdy filing cabinets and old desks, each with a
heavy layer of dust on them, and lined with old machines that you
remember seeing once in a history book but you can’t quite recall
the use of. Next to one of the workstations is a poster that’s almost
crumbled away, but in the faint light filtering in you can see it holds
a picture of a kitten on a tree and a motivational message. It makes
you wonder about the people who used to work here in this strange
old world.
If they had any idea they would play some sort of role in the war.
If they cared.
You head deeper into the room and something catches your eye.
Tucked away in the shadows is a door – a heavy one. It seems to be
in much better condition than anything you’ve seen so far in this
place, almost as if it was put in recently. What is most interesting,
however, is that there’s a huge padlock on the handle, with
something scribbled desperately next to it in the language of the old
world.
Read the writing – Turn to 3.10, Needs Old World Language.

Smash the door down – Turn to 3.11, Needs Hand-to-Hand
Combat.
Go through the filing cabinets for documents – Turn to 3.12.
Look upstairs – Turn to 3.13.
3.7
The air has warmed up by the time you make it back to the front of
the building, not that that’s saying much – it’s still incredibly cold.
You take a moment to look over the scaffolding to find where it
appears to be the sturdiest and begin to climb. The railings are
incredibly chilly to touch and you regret not wearing gloves. Still,
you’re glad to have the firm grip a bare palm allows and you scale
the place.
You’re about halfway up when you feel your foot slip. You let out a
loud yelp as panic floods your body and you almost fall. You take a
moment to breathe in and steady yourself – panic won’t help, it will
just make your reactions worse. Squeezing your eyes shut you take
in lungfuls of cold, harsh air, before bringing your foot back up and
placing it down carefully. You take your time, and the rest of the
climb is easy.
The view is incredible. You’re quite high up and by now the mist has
lifted almost completely, allowing you a good view of the
surrounding area. Not that there’s particularly much to see apart
from great empty plains. You do, however, take note of what
appears to be some sort of settlement in the distance to the west. It’s
difficult
to make out its exact purpose from here, but perhaps it will help you
find your group again.
Add Scavenger Village (Chapter 9, L.9) to map.
Head back – Turn to 3.18.
Inspect office building – Turn to 3.6.
3.8
You search your pack desperately, digging around in the depths
before you find what you were looking for – a Geiger counter. It was
something you hoped you weren’t going to have to use while you
were out here, but perhaps that was naïve optimism on your part.
This whole land is no doubt full of radiation.
You turn it on and it clicks to life, lighting up with a beep.
The little device acts as your guide as you follow its ticking, letting
your feet take you to where it says the radiation is the strongest. It
leads you deeper into the building, through that first cavernous
room and down a dark corridor. Soon you’re in another chamber,
smaller and far more densely packed than the last. This place is
absolutely crowded with machinery, perhaps once the epicentre of
this whole place.
Inspect machinery – Turn to 3.9.
Go back and search the offices – Turn to 3.6.
3.9
Whatever these machines were before the war, they’ll
never function now. The longer you inspect the panel, the more
obvious it becomes that they’ve been
completely gutted. Someone with some sort of expertise has been
here and ripped out whatever useful circuitry that may have once
sat here. You wish you knew who ransacked this place. One of the
tribes out in the wasteland, or people from the new world before
you?
You’ll never know now.
Leave – Turn to 3.18.
Search the offices – Turn to 3.6.
3.10
You’ve spent hours studying this language, and you’ll be damned if
you’re not going to put it to good use. You bend down in order to see
the writing better, using your sleeve to wipe away some of the dust
which has settled there. Written in the local script, in large, red
letters, is the word ‘demon’.
You don’t know what it could mean. It might be a warning to
outsiders, perhaps a way to scare off people who might want to
encroach on territory. Or it could be a sign of something far more
sinister.
Heed the warning and leave – Turn to 3.18.
Look through papers on the desks – Turn to 3.12.
Head upstairs – Turn to 3.13.
3.11
You take a few steps back before running shoulder first into the
door. It groans under the impact and budges slightly.
You rub the pain out of your arm before you step back and run
again, throwing your whole force into it. Clearly the lock is not as
strong as you anticipated it to be because it breaks on your second
go, skittering loudly to the floor as the door bursts open.
The dust that explodes outwards makes you cough wildly and blinds
you for a second. Rubbing your eyes vigorously helps and you
manage to blink away any residue with tears. You take in the scene
before you with a cough.
There’s a moth-eaten sleeping mat rolled out in the small room
you’re met with. It’s difficult to tell if it’s been recently used; there’s
a layer of dust that may have settled naturally or been from where
you broke the door down. There’s a little kerosene lamp that’s
sitting unlit on a table, but a small can of fuel for it sits to the side. In
the corner of the room there’s a backpack holding what appears to
be a first aid kit, and a stack of worn metal cans which have not yet
rusted.
Inspect the medical equipment – Turn to 3.14, Needs Medicine.
Inspect the cans – Turn to 3.15, Needs Survival.
Inspect the lamp – Turn to 3.16.
Leave the site and exit the building – Turn to 3.18.
3.12
The paper almost crumbles in your hands. The years of being left to
sit in the sunlight that’s trickled in through the now grime-covered
windows have not been kind to them.
They’ve been yellowed to the point of illegibility. You squint and try
to make out some of the words on them, but from what little you can
gather it seems to be discussions about number outputs. Nothing
that you can use right now, nothing that you’re able to decipher.
Decide to take the papers for a later date – Turn to 3.17.
Check upstairs in the building – Turn to 3.13.
Leave the papers and leave the plant – Turn to 3.18.
3.13
The stairs creak worryingly under your weight as you ascend them.
You hope that the combination of age and weathering won’t mean
they aren’t strong enough to hold you. You reach out to steady
yourself with the bannister but a layer of wood crumbles off in your
hand and you see something skittering inside, so you wipe it on your
clothes with a shudder and continue your walk upwards.
You couldn’t see on the floor below, but the ceiling to this place has
been completely worn away. Only the shell of the wood is left, old
support beams long lost to the annals of time. The sunlight filters in
from a grey sky to give light to the room.
There are more desks mostly pressed to the edges of the room.
Chairs with fewer legs than they’re meant to have are dotted around
as well, and drawers from small cabinets lay abandoned. This place
has been raided, though what it could have held beforehand that
would make it worth ransacking is a mystery to you.
The most interesting thing in the room is the hole in the ground.
You gingerly cross the floor, spacing your footsteps out far so it
doesn’t give out underneath you, and peer into it. You can see into
the floor beneath – a little living space, apparently what the locked
door from below was protecting. You could probably climb in and
out again; there’s a little table in the room below that could give you
the leverage to clamber out again. You drop down into the room and
inspect it.
There’s a moth-eaten sleeping mat rolled out in the small room
you’re met with. It’s difficult to tell if it’s been recently used; there’s
a layer of dust that may have settled naturally or from where you
dropped down and stirred up the air. There’s a little kerosene lamp
that’s sitting unlit on the table you saw, but a small can of fuel for it
sits to the side. In the corner of the room there’s a backpack holding
what appears to be a first aid kit, and a stack of worn metal cans
which have not yet rusted.
Inspect the medical equipment – Turn to 3.14, Needs Medicine.
Inspect the cans – Turn to 3.15, Needs Survival.
Leave the site alone and exit the building – Turn to 3.18.
3.14
You turn the first aid kit over in your hands. It’s a faded green box
with a white ‘+’ on it. It creaks with resistance as you open it, and its
inventory is pretty sparse.
There are a couple of rolls of bandages there, along with some safety
pins – but most interestingly there’s a little glass vial. You pick it up
and wipe your thumb over the label to make it more legible.
Morphine.
Your eyebrows raise. Morphine is rare in the vault, let alone out
here in the old world. There’s an unused syringe sitting in the box
next to it. The bottle isn’t huge – perhaps enough for one dose, if
applied correctly. This is too rare of a find to pass, and you put the
whole of the first aid kit into your pack.
Add Morphine (O.1) to your inventory.
Leave the power plant – Turn to 3.18.
3.15
The cans are ring pull, and the lettering on them is faded but you’re
able to make it out. They seem to be meat products.
You recall your training before you came out here, what they told
you about scavenging in the old world – things that are canned can
last a long, long time. They will probably be helpful in the future if
you’re ever hungry and need rations.
You tuck the food into your pack. Waste not, want not.
Add Good Quality Rations (O.2) to your inventory.
3.16
The lamp appears to be in working order, or at least shows no
outward signs of being broken. Even the glass which would
surround the little flame hasn’t got a crack in it. You imagine this
could be incredibly useful if your torch should ever fail you.
You attach the lamp to your pack and take the little kerosene can.
The liquid sloshes around inside – it doesn’t sound like there’s much
in there, but it could probably keep the flame going for a little while.
Add Lamp and Kerosene (O.3) to your inventory.
3.17
Just because you can’t read them now, doesn’t mean
they’re completely useless. There may be someone in the camp
when you meet back up with your group who can read into them,
give you some more insight into this place.
Maybe it can even be used to help rebuild this place one day,
assimilate it into the old world, and provide power once again.
You tuck the paper carefully into your pack, set on solving this.
Add Power Plant Files (O.5) to your inventory.
3.18
By the time you leave the power plant, the sun is high in the sky and
the landscape is illuminated with a pale light. It makes the whole
building seem less eerie. You tighten your pack onto your back and
head away from the abandoned place, happy with your findings, and
out into this world with a renewed sense of purpose.
END.
Add Return to Power Plant (Chapter 4, L.4) to map.
CHAPTER 4
RETURN TO THE POWERPLANT
4.1
The plant looks far different in the light of the sunset. It’s bathed in
oranges and soft yellows this time, rather than the harsh and eerie
silvers of your first visit. It doesn’t look welcoming, not exactly, but
it doesn’t seem as hostile as when you first came here. Perhaps that
can be attributed to the fact you’re on a returning visit; you’ve
already been here, you should know what to expect.
That’s why it’s so surprising when you see a small trail of smoke
rising up from the collection of buildings and into the warm sky. You
squint to try and make it out – its source doesn’t appear to be from
the plant itself, rather from a small fire that’s been made outside of
the main entrance doors. You can see a figure crouched by the fire,
wrapped in layers of clothing in order to shield themselves from the
elements. They’ve set up a little spit and were turning some sort of
meat over the open flame. As you approach, you can smell the
delicious scent and your mouth starts to water – it’s been far too
long since you had anything other than dry rations to eat.
The hermit looks up at you as you approach, the sound of your
footsteps echoing off the metal walkway that leads to the main
doors. Their face is weathered and they look very sick – their skin
pale and almost scaly. Patches of their hair have fallen out in clumps;
what little is left is wan and silk-thin. The hermit reaches down to a
hatchet buried in the ground by them and grips the handle, watching
you closely.
Attempt to treat their wounds – Turn to 4.2, Needs Medicine.
Ask to sit – Turn to 4.3.
Attack the hermit – Turn to 4.4, Needs Hand-to-Hand Combat.
Ask for help – Turn to 4.5.
4.2
Carefully, you put your pack on the floor and go through it, raising
your hands to show you don’t mean any harm. The hermit still has
careful eyes trained on you as you rifle through your things and
bring out your first aid kit, and when you show them the white cross
on green their eyebrows raise.
“Not seen one o’ them for a long time,” they laugh, but their voice
cracks and their words turn into a violent cough.
You approach them as they steady themselves. After taking their
temperature using what you have with you – hot, far too hot – you
try to make a visual assessment. It’s something you’ve read about
but never seen.
Radiation poisoning.
There’s not a lot you can do for them, apart from try to make them
more comfortable. You ask if there’s anything minor you can assist
them with. The hermit laughs again, before opening their mouth and
pointing to one rotten front tooth in their mouth – the last one they
have. Their breath is rancid and you have to brace yourself for a
moment to not gag.
“It’s going to hurt,” you say, looking for some sort of pliers to
attempt to perform the operation. The only thing you have is a set of
wire-cutters.
“Life hurts,” chuckles the hermit.
You hold open their mouth with one hand and grip the tooth with
the wire-cutters in the other. When you clamp down and pull you
expect the tooth to give up more resistance, but instead it glides out
with surprising cleanness, the hermit only wincing a little. They run
their tongue experimentally over their now empty gum and spit
some blood on the floor.
“That was very kind o’ you,” they admit, with the utmost sincerity.
You pass them their rotten tooth and they tuck it into one of the
many pockets in their padded coat – you’re not sure what they plan
to do with it and you don’t want to ask.
Add Compassion to your character sheet.
Ask the hermit about themselves – Turn to 4.6.
Ask for directions – Turn to 4.7.
Ask to share the food – Turn to 4.8.
4.3
Still eying you warily, the hermit gestures to the other side of the
fire. You take a seat a distance across from them so hopefully they
decide you aren’t going to jump them. You take in each other for a
moment – them noting your outsider’s badge and large pack, and
you their layers of thick clothing. Given the gauntness of their face,
they must be quite thin. You can imagine they’re glad for the added
warmth the coats give.
“So,” says the hermit at length, in a voice crackling as much as the
firewood, “you don’t look like you’re from ’round here.”
“No,” you confess, “I came to this place from across the sea. On a
boat.”
On a boat. How stupid. Of course you crossed the sea on a boat.
How else does one cross the sea?
“A boat, eh?” The hermit pokes the fire with a stick. “And what
brought your boat to this land, eh?”
“We came to learn.” – Turn to 4.9.
“We’re escaping a great danger.” – Turn to 4.10.
“We came to take this land back.” – Turn to 4.11.
4.4
Your eyes fall to the hatchet once again. You don’t like the look of it,
not one bit, and the hermit’s grip tightens on the handle further,
pulling it out of the ground – you see blood on the blade.
Before they have a chance to attack, you run and jump at them.
There’s a wild crackle of fire as something falls into the flame; the
two of you tumble backwards. Their weapon goes flying out of their
hand and they attempt to scratch across your face with dirt-
encrusted, yellowed nails – but you can feel how thin they are even
through their layers of clothing, and when you take their shoulders
in your hands and slam them into the ground they give up no
resistance. They lie beneath you, watching you carefully, chest
heaving from exhaustion.
Finish them off – Turn to 4.12.
Demand answers – Turn to 4.13.
4.5
The hermit draws their hatchet out of the ground and points it
towards you, the blade glinting dully in the setting sun. You raise
your hands in a universal sign of peace, and they allow you to come
closer.
“I’m no threat, I promise,” you tell them.
“Hmph. We’ll see about that, outsider,” they spit. Silence fills the air
between you, taken up only by the sound of a crackling flame,
lighting up the hermit’s pallid skin in its harsh colours.
Ask for directions – Turn to 4.7.
Ask to share the meal – Turn to 4.8.
4.6
“Iused to live here,” they say, pulling the meat off of the fire and into
their lap. “Back before the raiders started being such a problem. Few
months back some warlord and her party chased me away from my
own home so they could strip the place bare.”
“What did they take?”
“Anything they reckoned might be important. Bits of machines.
Rations they could salvage. Some sort of power thing too, I think.
Used to be a new-clear reactor back in the day you know. Cleaned
out anything that might be useful for making energy.”
During this time they’ve been pulling meat off the carcass and
sucking it down, painting their face with grease. They offer you a
strip.
“What is it?”
“Not human, if that’s what you’re worried about,” chuckles the
hermit, and you share the rest of the meal gratefully. It’s one of the
tastiest things you’ve eaten for a while (not that there’d be much
competition from your dried jerky and tough biscuits).
“It’s a shame. Seems like maybe everything’d be better if we just
worked together. But there’s always those bastards who want to
take, take, take. Think they’re more entitled to things because
they’re stronger. Disgusting.” They spit out some gristle into the fire
and it flicks embers into the air.
“I could try and get your things back,” you offer. Once again the
hermit laughs and looks at you with something akin to pity in their
eyes.
“Nah, you don’t stand a chance, darlin’. But if you’re that interested
in trying to track ’em down, I can point you in the right direction.
You got a map?”
You take it out of your pack as the hermit grabs a piece of charcoal
from the edge of the fire. They carefully take the map from you and
look at it with scrupulous eyes, before scribbling a couple of words
onto it.
“Here’s a bridge. Used to trade a lot. That’s a big part of the old
world. I’ve also put where the scavengers hole up, though if I were
you I’d stay away. Crafty bunch.”
You thank them gratefully and fold it back into your pack. They
stretch in the firelight, looking at the setting sun.
“You’re more than welcome to share the fire for the night, but I’ll be
heading off early,” they warn. You can think of worse ways to camp,
and bring out your bedroll for the evening, using your pack as a
pillow, before falling into an easy sleep.
The next morning the fire is out and the sky is grey once again.
All that’s left of the hermit is the animal carcass from their meal the
night before.
You hope they live a happy life, no matter how much is left of it.
END.
Add The Hermit (E.1) to your character sheet.
Add Scavenger Village (Chapter 9, L.9) and The Bridge (Chapter
11, L.11) to map.
4.7
“Directions, eh? Where to?”
Of course, you’re really looking for your group you
were separated from in the storm, but you don’t want to admit that.
You don’t know them and don’t know how favourably they’d react to
the news that you were with a party from the new world.
“Anywhere interesting. Somewhere with people, I suppose.”
“You got a map?”
look at it with scrupulous eyes before scribbling a couple of words
onto it.
you I’d stay away. Crafty bunch.”
They pass it back and you inspect it. Looks like there’s a lot of
promise in these places, though that will always come tinged with
peril.
You thank them and they make a non-committal noise of acceptance
and shoo you away. Sensing you’ve outstayed your
welcome, you turn on your heel and leave the power plant for good.
END.
11, L.11) to map.
4.8
The hermit balks at you, letting out a splutter of laughter at your
bluntness. They take another moment to eye you up and down,
assessing you, before waving you over.
“All right, ya cheeky bastard. Have a seat by the fire.”
You sit cross-legged by the flame as the hermit turns the meat over
the spit one last time before placing it in front of them.
“Heads or tails?” they ask.
“Erm, tails?”
“Suit yourself,” they say, mysteriously, before bringing up the
hatchet and cutting the carcass in half. They hand you what you
guess is the back end of the beast before digging into their own
portion. They eat sloppily, grease covering their mouth, barely
giving the food time to cool. You use your teeth to peel off a strip of
meat and taste it – you have no idea what kind of food it is, but it’s
delicious, and soon you’re down to the bone.
When it’s picked bare you drop what’s left onto the ground in front
of you, replete, and lean back against your pack. You notice the
hermit is watching you with an amused expression.
“Yes?”
“Not seen anyone tuck into squirrel so heartily for a long time.
You must’ve been hungry.”
“Not had a cooked meal for a while,” you confess, leaning back and
watching the clouds float in the slowly darkening sky. Your
companion hums a note as they consider what you’ve said, then ask,
“You don’t look like you’re from ’round here.”
“I’m not.”
“Where ya fer, then?”
“Far away.” You don’t want to give up too much information to this
stranger. You don’t know how they’ll react if you tell them too much.
“Fair ’nough,” they concede. “You wanna at least tell me where
you’re going?”
“I don’t know,” you sit up and study them. “What’s around here?”
look at it with scrupulous eyes, before scribbling a couple of words
onto it.
you I’d stay away. Crafty buggers.”
“Thanks,” you say, and pack it away, getting to your feet.
“You’re welcome to stay the night, you know. I won’t rob you.
Probably,” they add slyly. It makes you chuckle in spite of yourself.
“Nah. I gotta get going. Take care of yourself.”
“You too, kid. You too.”
END.
11, L.11) to map.
4.9
“You came to learn? To learn?” the hermit throws their head back
and howls with laughter, such raucous laughter that it seems to fill
the whole site of the plant.
You look around anxiously, worried that the outbreak of noise will
attract unwanted attention. At last they calm down from their
hysterics, wiping a tear away with one long bony finger.
“Learn what, eh? You outsiders know everything.” They’re still
chuckling, and they pick up a stick and poke their fire, the flames
reflecting on their tear-stained cheeks. You feel a bit annoyed at
their off-the-cuff reaction. What does this hermit know about you?
Who are they to judge?
“To understand then. How about that?”
The hermit looks at you with even more pity than before, a sad little
smile on their face. As if they know a secret they want to share with
you but they can’t.
“You outsiders will never understand us. You come back into this
world from your safe, clean little vaults and expect it to bow and
bend to you simply because you’re here. We’ve grown with this
place. Suffered with it. This land’s strife is our own. Tell me, traveller
– how can a warm man understand a cold man?”
You open your mouth to reply, but their eloquence has knocked you
off balance. You have no answer for them. They sigh and put their
stick down, looking at you with disappointment you somehow feel
you deserve, and hold out a hand to you.
“Have you got a map?”
You rummage around in your pack, offering them the folded piece of
paper. They take some charcoal from their fire and scribble on it for
you before passing it back.
“I’ve put down a couple of places near here. A bridge that used to be
part of the old world. And the scavenger village.” They sigh.
“Maybe, if you visit these places and see this world, one day you’ll
understand.”
You kick the dirt under your shoe and feel… small. They don’t look
back to you, instead going back to turning their meal on the spit.
You get the sense you’ve outstayed your welcome, and leave them to
their thoughts and food.
END.
11, L.11) to map.
4.10
“Agreat danger?” they scoff. “What do you have to be
afraid of, outsider? Wind which chills you to the bone that blows
every night, no matter how hard you try and get away from it?
Warlords deciding they want what you have and taking it from you,
and there’s nothing you can do to stop them?
What danger do you know?”
The hermit seems angry, and you step back, holding your hands up
to show you don’t mean any harm. The tight grip they have around
their hatchet slackens and they sigh, turning their gaze from you and
back to the fire. It lights up their pale eyes as the embers dance into
the evening sky, and you suddenly feel very silly.
“Do you have a map?”
You carefully take it out of your pack and hand it over, worried they
might throw it into the fire. But instead they take a piece of charcoal
and mark it a few times.
“If you want to know of danger, go here. Try to understand this place
like we do. Go see the scavengers fight for survival. Go and see the
bridge we have to trade over. Go and experience what this place is
really like.”
You get the sense you’ve outstayed your welcome, and leave them to
their thoughts and food as you mutter a little thank you. They don’t
respond.
END.
11, L.11) to map.
4.11
The hermit watches you for a long moment before suddenly spitting
on the ground in front of you, making you jump. They shake their
head and begin to stamp out the fire with a heavily booted foot.
“You’re an enemy to me, outsider,” they say in way of explanation.
“What? Why?”
“You come to ‘take back this land’. As if it belongs to wild beasts.
It doesn’t. We live here, the remnants of the old world that you
forgot. We made this place liveable again and now you think you
have some sort of right to it? You think you’re better than us
because you come from across the sea? Think you can lead us? Let
me tell you, outsider – we’ve had plenty of leaders and all they bring
is blood.”
They take the cooking carcass off the extinguished fire and gather
their own things. You can feel your brow tighten.
“So who leads you now?”
“Nobody leads me!” they say with a harsh chuckle. “They’re all
children fighting over dust and dirt. I make my own way. I’m free.”
“You say ‘they’re all children’. Who do you mean?”
The hermit sighs and tugs their hatchet out of the ground. You
worry you’re going to have to fight, but instead they begin to trace
shapes in the ash and it takes you a moment to realise they’re
drawing directions.
“The bridge used by traders. The camp. If you go to these places
you’ll understand why so many of us live like me. And why leaders
will only ever cause suffering.”
They leave as you mark down the places in their crude drawing onto
your map.
END.
Add Instability to your character sheet.
11, L.11) to map.
4.12
Your hands press down into the flesh of the hermit’s throat.
Their skin feels scaly and rough, and though they beat at you
ineffectually with their fists, soon they can’t fight any longer as you
choke the breath out of them.
You sit by their body as you eat the meal from over the fire – it’s
greasy and tasty, filling your belly fuller than it’s been for a long
time.
Then you wipe your hands on their coat and inspect their
belongings.
The hatchet might come in handy, and you attach it to the side of
your pack. You’re not enthused by the idea of rifling through this
hermit’s clothes but it’s probably a good idea to make sure you have
everything that you can reasonably use. Apart from bits of pocket
lint and debris, the most interesting thing you come across is a piece
of paper that appears to contain directions. You compare it to your
map and mark down the location shown.
You spend the night by the fire and the corpse and leave the next
morning.
END.
Add Cruelty to your character sheet.
Add Hatchet (O.4) to your inventory.
4.13
“What’s going on here? Who are you?” you demand,
shaking them by the lapels. The hermit whines
underneath you, panicking but also tired and weak.
“I’m just a traveller, please, take whatever you want,” they moan.
You almost feel a bit guilty, but you’re also worried if they hadn’t
been challenged they easily could have hurt you. You sigh and get
up, taking the hatchet from the ground and offer them a hand up,
which they take with hesitance.
“I’m looking for people. If I give you a map, can you show me where
they might be?”
The hermit nods shakily, blinking back tears. You hand them your
map and they scribble onto it with charcoal from the fire, fingers
still trembling. When they’re done you snatch it back and leave the
way you came, armed with new information and the hatchet you
didn’t give back.
END.
Add Hatchet (O.4) to your inventory.
11, L.11) to map.
CHAPTER 5
THE SHIP
5.1
The rhythm of your steps falls into a steady routine as you walk ever
onwards towards your destination. Though concerned about the
sheer volume of people you may meet, it might also be the best place
for you to find information about your lost party. This ship. This
village. It was, after all, one of the places Mari wanted you to go to
investigate in the first place.
By midday the wind has dropped to a soft and steady murmur, and
you can walk without your collar pulled up around your face. The
sun, high in the sky, casts dim light through a filter of grey clouds.
The land now is varied and tough as you find yourself moving higher
above the coastline.
As you crest a small hill you break into a jog. From this vantage
point you look down on the landscape around you. The trees and
shrubs below give way to bare knolls, covered sparsely in short,
coarse grass. In places the rain and wind has carved muddy scars
into the exposed earth. To the north, the rise of the land stops
suddenly, replaced by a flat coastline that rolls gently into the steel
grey sea.
There, between the mouth of the river and the expanse of the sea,
you see it.
The dark amber of the ship’s metals stand out against the muted
greys of the surrounding area. Lying dormant, leaning slightly
lopsided away from the coast, it sits in the mud of the estuary
surrounded by the slowly lapping flow of the shallow river.
Not created by the winds or the seas like the world it occupies, the
ship cracks the horizon with its geometry. Its bow is sunken below
the mud of the riverbed while the stern is lifted some twenty or so
metres in the air. The vessel’s ancient metals have been eroded and
fractured where it meets the flow of the water. Broken down by the
passage of time, its hull resembles the hollow rib cage of some great
felled beast. The remains of the old world’s last great behemoth.
The ship, you think to yourself, must be over three hundred metres
long – the largest structure you’ve ever seen above the ground. Your
only comparison, the boat that brought you to these lands, would
look miniature next to it. You try to imagine the history of this thing,
and the lost culture that must have created it. You think of the
possibilities it represents. A thousand thoughts race through your
mind as you stand there in a daze of awe and excitement.
A moment passes. You return to the world around you as the words
of your brief echo in your head.
Find a suitable vantage point – Turn to 5.2, Needs Sharpshooter.
Look for signs of humanity – Turn to 5.3, Needs Knowledge.
Lay low and observe the ship – Turn to 5.6.
5.2
You suddenly become aware of your position. Your body
forms a silhouette against the shape of the hills, which is easily
spotted from lower ground. Another shape, just as unnatural as the
ship. You drop to the floor quickly and rummage through your bag
for your scope.
Scouting the area around your position, you spy a large oak at the
peak of a hill to the east. With one eye to the ship, you move
carefully along the ridge towards the tree. Lying prostrate on the
cold ground, you pull your rifle up to your cheek and peer down the
lens to the land below you.
From nearly a kilometre away, you scan the decrepit ship for any
signs of movement.
The wind breaks the silence, sometimes gently brushing at your
face, sometimes whipping the grass around you into frenzied
spasms. Kind and cruel at the same time.
In your crosshairs you see smoke rising from an open hole in the
hull of the ship, a thin stream of black that curls upwards and
dissipates in the wind.
You look away from the lens, and with your eyes alone you are
barely able to perceive this tiny detail. Pointless to try to keep watch
without the use of the scope, so instead you continue to observe
closely through it, steadfast against the ground.
Time passes. Nearly an hour goes by as you observe the ship from
your hidden vantage point.
You’re beginning to wonder if the smoke you saw rise earlier was
just a trick of the mind – a hopeful illusion you convinced yourself to
see – when suddenly and without warning you see movement on the
deck.
An old hatch, mottled black and yellow with the remnants of ancient
paint, swings open and from it clambers a pair of figures.
The first to emerge, a man, perhaps fifty years old, is dressed in a
heavy animal-skin coat. His legs are covered in a rough woven fabric
and his feet are wrapped in crude leather boots, bound by cords
around the ankles. He reaches into the hatch to help a second figure
up onto the deck. The second, a younger man, is dressed similarly,
but carrying a large pack also made from animal skins.
From his waist hangs a pair of unplucked birds, tied together at the
neck.
The pair converse freely, unaware of your presence. The older man
points eastwards and moves his hands in a curve as if describing
some landmark or natural feature. The younger man nods and in the
palm of his hand traces a shape, which the older man watches with
intent. They speak a while longer before a third figure emerges from
the hatch.
Carrying a bundle of cloth in her arms, the woman smiles at the two
men. This trio of natives move along the deck of the ship towards
the waterline. The old man clambers over a twisted metal railing
and into the ankle-deep waters. The woman hands him her luggage
as she follows. A layer is peeled back from the cloths revealing the
face of a baby, who yawns and blinks in the bright sun.
Upon seeing the infant’s face you pause, looking up from the lens to
the ship. From this distance the three of them look tiny, like insects
crawling across a great boulder.
You mark every movement the group makes, every interaction
between the adults and their environment. You watch for details
that must seem commonplace to them, and feel an intense
fascination with observing them from a distance. The overwhelming
sense of mundanity presented in their actions is a feeling you
struggle to process as you watch, unsure of how to proceed.
Fire a warning shot – Turn to 5.4.
Continue to watch the ship – Turn to 5.5.
5.3
In your studies you often encountered reports of rudimentary
settlements scattered throughout the old world. From accounts sent
back by explorers and settlers, it became apparent that some groups
of survivors had gathered together for protection, trying to emulate
life before the war.
You remember what had made your professor’s face light up when
talking about these people – the fact that they seemed to be peaceful
compared to the predominantly rougher survivors that explorers
from the vault had met. The way the small settler groups acted was
not typical of the usual behaviour, and reflected what some argued
was a development in their social standards.
That term had never sat right with you. Development. It was as if the
scholars had drawn a straight line from ‘mud-hut savage’ to
themselves, deciding that nothing outside of that linear path could
possibly survive.
Perhaps, you’d thought to yourself, these reported settlements were
living memories of the world as it used to be. Before the war, people
had lived in cities of millions. It seemed only right that some of the
earliest survivors would have tried to emulate that lifestyle, and it
had been passed on to their descendants.
You keep one eye on the ship as you carefully move down the
hillside to a small shrub which sits slightly closer. You sit cross-
legged beneath its branches which spike you in the face and neck,
but dare not try to move again – instead you put up with the pain
and jot down notes into your notebook.
From your vantage point you watch as small distant figures emerge
from the surface of the iron ship, busying themselves with daily
tasks. Perhaps a dozen people are moving goods from place to place,
unloading supplies from the backs of rudimentary rafts tied up
where the ship meets the waterline. They mostly seem to be in
crates and barrels so you could only hazard a guess at what’s inside
them. Given their proximity to the sea, probably fish.
You continue your watch for what must be hours. As the day passes
you notice that the majority of the supplies seem to have been
moved to a central area within the ship, which you can just about
see. You can see the hubbub of congregated survivors and goods
changing hands. It seems to be some sort of trading spot – a
bartering post, perhaps?
You continue to take notes on the different survivors you can see
running around on their orange-flecked settlement. They range in
height and size, from wizened elders, hunched over from age, to
children playing. You spy a pair who can’t be more than six years old
running across the deck, engaged in a game of screaming and
shoving – seems that kind of game comes naturally to all children,
no matter where they come from. You make a sketch of their clothes
– almost a uniform in their similarity, all of them are covered from
neck to feet in an ochre-brown material that seems to be furs or
leather.
After observing for several hours you reckon that as many as a
hundred people must be living within the interior of the ship. It’s the
largest settlement that you’ve heard of in this place. They don’t seem
to have access to electricity and it’s difficult to tell how
technologically reliant these people are without being able to see
inside the ship. You don’t hear the whirring of any machinery, but
that doesn’t mean there isn’t any. Apart from that, all you can make
out is a few swirling spires of smoke ascending into the sky and
disappearing. They clearly have fires, then. Maybe they’re getting
ready to start cooking dinner? It is early evening, after all.
You flip your notebook shut. Even though it’s been interesting to
watch, you haven’t yet had any new insights that you haven’t
previously encountered either through your own research or the
research from explorers before you. Without entering the ship
yourself, it is difficult to say how permanent their settlement is, or
answer any of the tantalising questions that surge through you as
you run the reports and figures memorised from your studies
through your mind.
In the years you spent between charts and maps, poring over travel
accounts and photographs for new insight, you never once read an
ethnography that satisfied your curiosity. The so-called explorers
they sent this way were scared children, unable to understand the
complexities of the survivors’ lives, unable to understand the fear
that plagued them. You read nothing in all that time but coy reports
of exotic rituals spotted through binocular lenses, or fearful
warnings of savagery written as justification of more weapons’
shipments.
There was something missing from all these accounts. A void of
understanding, where failed scholars had attempted to plug the gap
with wild speculations.
You would not fail. With every swiftly written note, you feel yourself
drawing closer to the unknown truth that, soon, you would
discover.
But there was something wrong. A barrier in your wisdom that
would not be overcome from sitting and watching from a distance.
To know you must experience. You would have to contact them
directly.
Add Outfit Sketch (F.8) to your notebook.
Leave, having done enough for the day – Turn to 5.7.
Risk getting closer to the ship – Turn to 5.8.
5.4
The shot screams out across the landscape, echoing in the hills
around you like thunder.
As the ringing in your ears subsides, you notice the silence.
Where you expect the panicked screams of women and children
there is only the wind, blowing calm and evenly at your face.
As the bullet struck the surface of the ship, sending sparks flying
into the air, the youngest of the trio threw himself to the ground.
Crouched in fear, the others look cautiously to the skies, unsure of
the source of the noise.
Signalling to the other two with an outstretched palm, the older man
grips the railing of the ship and slowly makes his way back from the
waterline. From his crouching position he begins crawling, on all
fours at first and then flat on his stomach. Shuffling himself forward
awkwardly on his elbows, he reaches an open hole in the surface of
the ship where, leaning his head into the darkness of its interior, he
appears to shout.
In a moment the serene calmness of the ship is broken as many
figures suddenly emerge from its interior, spreading out across the
metal of the deck like fearful ants. Twenty or so people run in all
directions, shouting and pointing to the horizon in an eruption of

chaos. Figures stand with their hands above their eyes, scanning the
surroundings for danger.
Some carry rudimentary weapons which you look on with pity.
Against the power of your firearm, the spears and slings they hold
close are objects of comfort rather than protection. As you see the
confusion on their faces, you find it difficult to feel any sense of fear
or apprehension you might once have felt.
Bows and arrows against the lightning.
In a few minutes the shouts and screams have faded, and a short
while later the first to respond have begun to drift away, returning
to the shelter of their interiors. A few brave, or perhaps foolhardy,
individuals remain on the deck, patrolling the walkways and
watching the landscape around them with great vigilance.
No threat of retaliation seems to arise as the world around you falls
again into complete silence. No threat at all emerges as you eagerly
watch the movements and reactions of the survivors below.
A strange sense of complacency, even resignation, seems to fill them.
It is as if sudden moments of fear and confusion are nothing more
than a passing element of their daily lives.
You remain hidden in your bird’s nest until the serene sense of calm
has washed once again over the landscape. By the evening, no
figures remain on the surface of the ship and you feel isolation
consume you.
5.5
You watch the ship for a few hours more, noting the people that
come and go through the passages and holes in its metal surface.
Figures carry crates of loot across the deck, possibly for trade. A pair
of children sit on the side of the deck, waving their legs wildly into
the air. They seem to enjoy the fact that they’re several dozen feet
above ground. Suddenly both their heads snap around, as if they’ve
been called, and with a whole-body sigh they retreat into the bowels
of the ship.
As the sun begins to slowly set and the sky fades into a dark grey,
you feel the first cold prick of rain against your skin. As your
concentration on the ship is broken you suddenly feel aware of your
body. You feel a coldness within you, an aching soreness in your
muscles. You feel an emptiness in your stomach and an urgency in
your bladder.
In all your time watching, the people of the ship presented no
danger to you. If you ever meet Mari again, you’ll have to let her
know what you’ve discovered. Finding your position on the map you
draw a small love heart around the X marked there.
Perhaps you could attempt to communicate with these people.
Because that’s all they seem to be… people. Harmless, average
people.
Add Heart (F.3) to map near Location 5 (The Ship).
5.6
Keeping a distance, you watch the ship closely for any signs of
movement. Crouching at the ridge of the hill, you observe a coil of
dark smoke rising up from a crack in its iron surface. For nearly an
hour the ship is still, an unmoving monolith against the skyline. Just
as you begin to lose interest, you spot movement from the edge of
your vision. Your head snaps to the right and you see a group of
figures on the horizon, moving together towards the ship.
As the mass of people draws closer you move slowly onto your
stomach, lying flat below the grassline to avoid detection. The
figures move closer and closer still, until you can examine their
details and features from your hiding spot.
Eight people walk in an orderly line along the coast towards the
ship. At the rear of the group, a figure leads a great beast by a rope.
You’ve never seen anything like it before. Its broad shoulders and
thick neck remind you of the paintings of horses that decorated the
school canteen of your youth. Its body, however, is covered with
thick orange fur that twitches in the coastal winds, and from its head
two powerful horns curl outwards like weapons. Across its back
bundles and packs are stacked and tied, and as it walks this mound
of objects swings rhythmically from side to side with each step.
Despite its imposing size the beast appears docile and allows – even
appreciates – one of the women from the group patting it on the
nose.
The group of people look similar in appearance. Each is wrapped in
a heavy layer of animal skin and furs that cover their bodies. Their
feet, bound in tight wrappings, are dark, almost black with dirt and
damp which fades as it rises from the ground. They are heavy-laden
with packs and rolls of bulky objects carried on their backs. Around
the waist of one man, four dead birds are hung together at the neck.
The men are bearded, and every member of the group wears long,
wild hair that whips around their face in the wind. To the front of
the group a tall woman, perhaps forty years of age, walks with a
heavy wooden staff, her face covered by a hood. As they reach the
water’s edge she indicates a point on the ground and her followers
begin unloading their packs.
The woman leading the beast unhooks its bags and rubs a hand
gently over its shoulders, leaning close in an almost-embrace. The
beast bows its head and she tenderly scratches its head between its
horns. It’s a strange act of softness you didn’t expect to see in this
world.
Throwing her staff to the ground, the leader undoes her fur hood,
revealing a head of ginger hair tied back in a bun. As the group
unloads the last of their goods she reaches a hand up to her rough
pink mouth and closes her lips around two fingers, letting out a loud,
sharp whistle.
From the highest point of the ship you see a figure emerge from a
heavy iron hatch. With his hand sheltering his eyes, he waves to the
group and shouts something which is lost in the wind. You watch
carefully as three figures appear from the opening in the ship and
scramble down its surface to the edge of the water. As the travelling
party and those from the ship meet you hear raucous laughs and
watch warm embraces. It seems everyone is glad the travellers are
back.
As the final hug ends, the group immediately moves towards a patch
of bushes close to the bank of the estuary. Pulling away the twisted
branches, they reveal a wooden raft. Small and primitive, the raft is
about two metres wide, bound together with rough rope. Each
crouching at a corner of the raft, four of the team lift the wooden
structure from its hiding place and move it carefully into the water.
With great efficiency the team piles their supplies onto the craft. A
man pulls a long wooden pole from the same patch of bushes.
Stepping carefully onto the laden raft, he pushes the pole into the
bed of the estuary, propelling himself forward to the pair of men
waiting patiently at the other side.
You watch for over an hour as the travellers carry their supplies,
and then themselves, to the moored ship. When the last of the goods
has been hastened away into the interior of the ship, they carefully
usher the beast onto the raft. It stands awkwardly as the woman and
the leader of the group flank the raft, moving it slowly across the
water as they wade alongside, reassuring the nervous creature as it
goes.
As the landscape returns to its eerie stillness, you mark the hidden
raft with a point on your map.
You consider for a moment the implications of this new finding.
The raft, though rudimentary, shows a level of innovation you were
never told to expect. The wood itself could not have come from the
spindly fingers of any shrubs or bushes nearby. The beast, the
caravan of people, the raft, and the dwelling itself all raise questions
in your mind that make your brain bubble with excitement and
curiosity.
Add Knowledge of Hidden Raft (E.13) to your character sheet.
5.7
Today’s findings have been fascinating. It’s remarkable just how
innovative humans can be, even when they have to build from the
ash up. You feel a deep desire in you to go and board the ship, to
discuss with these people about themselves, but you get the sense
that perhaps that’s best left for another day –
perhaps when a small party splits off. Though you don’t think that
they would react with hostility towards you, you really don’t want to
risk anything. Not when you still need to find your party.
You take one more cursory glance across the deck of the ship.
Apart from what appears to be a couple on some sort of date sitting
by the hull, the outside is completely empty. In your hours of
watching you haven’t seen anything that would suggest that any of
your previous companions are there. Maybe it was high-hoped that
they would be, but even then it was difficult not to hold onto the
wish that they would be there.
Breathing a deep sigh, you retreat the way you came, keeping low to
the ground even though darkness covers you as the moon begins its
ascent. Once you’re out of sight of the ship, you stand and stretch,
pushing the blood back into your numb extremities from
squatting so long. Best to call it a night here, you decide, and set up
your little camp.
END.
Add Return to Ship (Chapter 6, L.6) to map.
5.8
It’s probably dangerous. At the very least it’s a bad idea, and yet the
sense of intrigue pushes you on. If you can get closer, maybe you can
take samples of the plants back for testing when you’re reunited
with your group, get some new analyses on the environment. If
you’re lucky, you may even overhear some conversations from the
people inside.
Sticking low, you crawl along the ground, trying to ignore where the
grass springs up and tickles your nose. More than once you
desperately hold in a sneeze for fear it will bring everyone’s
attention onto you. As you slowly make your way to the shallows
surrounding the ship you notice just how cold it’s getting as the
moon begins to rise into the sky, not to mention how dark the
landscape becomes.
The only source of light apart from the soft moonlight comes from a
few orange glows in the ship, concentrated at different windows and
cracks in the cabins, suggesting the warmth of firelight. You envy the
people in there, snug and comfortable.
The water laps at the toes of your boots as you rearrange yourself
into a sitting position, knees at your chest to try to make yourself as
small as possible. You rummage in your pack for a container and
scoop at the pond to collect a sample, but when your
hand reaches in you touch something slimy and screech in

automatic reaction, dropping both the tester and your cover.
You slap your hands over your mouth, one gloved and dry, one wet
and cold, too late to stifle the noise you made. Your eyes flit up to the
ship and watch for reactions. The deck is empty, and though you can
see shadows moving against the firelight, none of them seem to have
noticed the shrill outcry. You go to relax when you become aware of
a presence to your right.
Slowly you turn your head. Standing about twenty feet away from
you is a boy, no more than eight years old. He has dark skin and a
mop of unruly black hair on his head. He’s dressed similarly to the
adults you spied earlier – mostly in leathers, with an animal skin
tied about his shoulder to protect him from the cold. There seems to
be some sort of stick in his hand. The two of you watch each other
for a long moment.
Talk to the boy – Turn to 5.9.
Watch the boy – Turn to 5.11.
Threaten the boy – Turn to 5.10, Needs Hand-to-Hand Combat.
5.9
“Hello,” you venture. The boy wipes his nose on the back of his
sleeve, leaving a long trail of snot that glints in the moonlight. You
shudder a bit before he points at the water with his stick, which you
can now see has been sharpened into a spike as a rudimentary
spear.
“They’re just frogs,” he says. You don’t quite cotton on to what he
means before you follow where he’s gesturing and see something
hopping out the water. A fat, bulbous green mass jumps to the shore,
sinking a little into the mud and letting out a loud, contented ribbit.
You realise this must have been what brushed against your hand
and made you jump just now, and feel a bit silly.
“Mam gave me this spear to hunt ’em. But I don’t like hunting
’em. I like watching ’em,” he tells you, sagely. To prove his point he
squats down in the mud and trains his eyes intently on the frog
that’s just made its appearance. It ribbits once again and he imitates
it, uncannily, to such an extent you feel your eyebrows raise.
“What you doin’ out here?” he asks eventually, tearing his eyes from
the frog.
“Exploring,” you say. He nods and then his little face pulls into a
pinched look of puzzlement.
“Mam says sploring is dangerous. Gotta stay near the ship.”

“Yes, she’s right,” you confess. And then, with just a hint of hope,
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen anyone else dressed like me… after the
storm?”
The boy shakes his head.
“Nah. Just us in the ship. No outsiders came in. Sorry.”
You sigh. Perhaps it was too much of a hope. He opens his mouth but
before he can continue you hear the sounds of other children’s
voices calling out in the distance. He gets to his feet and wipes his
dirty hands on his just-as-dirty trousers.
“You should go,” he says, “and don’t be scared of frogs. They’re just
frogs.”
On those parting words of wisdom he turns on his heel and runs off
towards where you heard the call. You can’t help but feel a little bit
charmed by this odd boy. Even in this cold, harsh world, strange
children can still exist. It’s so… human.
You cinch your pack tighter to you and leave hurriedly, before
anyone less welcoming can spot you.
END.
Add Frog (F.9) to your notebook.
Add Talk to Boy (E.17) to your character sheet.
Add Return to the Ship (Chapter 6, L.6) to map.
5.10
You and the boy watch each other for a long moment,
trapped as if you’re predator and prey but not quite sure who is
filling which role. Slowly, deliberately, you place a fist inside an open
hand, and push your fingers down. Your knuckles crack loudly in the
silent marsh. The little boy’s gaze drops from your face to your
hands and his eyes go wide.
“Scram,” you say. He doesn’t need telling twice. Scrambling like
some sort of rodent, he spins round and runs away from you as fast
as his little legs will allow. Patches of mud and grass fly up from
under his heels – some of them decorating your coat. You growl and
dust the muck off yourself.
From the water beside you, a frog jumps out of the water and lands
with a wet splat in the saturated ground. Automatically you bring
your boot up and step down heavily on it, killing the creature
beneath your weight.
You wipe your boot on the bank with a sigh. Such a cruel world.
You pull your pack closer to your back and head back the way you
came, keeping low to the ground, and hoping the boy doesn’t bring
back allies.
END.
Add Squished Frog (F.10) to your notebook.
5.11
There’s a heaviness in the air as you and the boy watch each other,
like the mugginess that happens before a storm.
Children are naturally unpredictable and you know just how
different to him you must look – surely he has an idea that you’re an
outsider. You don’t want to spook him and have him scream,
alerting everyone on the ship to your presence.
He makes the first move. His footsteps make little squelching noises
in the saturated mud as he comes over to you, a look of scepticism
on his face. You raise your hands in the universal sign of peace, as if
to say, I have no weapon. He raises the stick he’s had clutched in his
little gloved hand and you see now that the end of it has been
sharpened into a point. You really hope he’s not going to stab you
with it. That would be the icing on an already quite awful cake.
Instead he uses the blunt end to upset the water. Having been
disturbed, a frog jumps out from where it was submerged and onto
your boot. Your eyes go wide at the unexpectedness of it, and you
hear the boy laugh in reaction. Quick as a flash, before it can notice,
he picks up the frog in his little hands, trapping it and holding tight.
It croaks, disgruntled.
He holds his quarry up to you. Not knowing what else to do, you
offer your hands out, and he deposits the frog in your grip. Neither
you nor the frog are excited about this situation and you don’t
attempt to stop it from leaping off of you and back into the water,
swimming away.
“They’re just frogs,” the boy says. You nod. Yes, you suppose, they
are just frogs. Life might have changed immeasurably for humans
during the Ash War, but animals probably barely noticed.
How easy it must be to be a frog, not needing to worry about
anything more than where to catch a fly.
You hear the voices of more children coming from down the bank.
The boy gives you a wave, which you awkwardly return, before
running off to meet up with his friends.
You wipe the frog slime off on your coat and sigh. Time to retreat.
For now, anyway. You keep low to the ground and depart from the
ship, the sound of children playing filling your ears as you go.
END.
Add Frog (F.9) to your notebook.
Add Talk to Boy (E.17) to your character sheet.
CHAPTER 6
RETURN TO THE SHIP
6.1
It’s early morning as you make your way back to the village in the
ship. Even though you’ve seen its grandeur before, the sight of it
rising above the horizon is still breathtaking, a man-made mountain
amongst the nature that’s sought to reclaim the world.
The sun is rising in the east and glittering on the water. It makes the
ship appear to be floating on hot coals, strange and ethereal.
The water dances in the breeze and shines little patterns onto the
rusty metal; it’s beautiful, in an odd sort of way. A union between
what was and what is.
Though dawn has broken you see no signs of life on deck. If you
didn’t know better, if you hadn’t seen the movement of the people
inside it before, you might say that it was abandoned.
You hum a note to yourself, unsure of what to do. You’re still
worried that the residents may be hostile towards you if you make
yourself too much of a threat. You are, after all, an outsider – and
there is a chance they won’t trust you because of it. You’ll have to
carefully consider how to proceed.
Wade through the water to the ship – Turn to 6.2.
Use the hidden raft – Turn to 6.2a, Needs Knowledge of Hidden
Raft.
Wait at the riverbanks – Turn to 6.4.
6.2
You decide to approach.
Just treat it like a neighbour’s house – you’re coming as a friend, not
an enemy, making your intentions clear upfront.
You tuck your trouser legs into your boots to try to save them from
getting soaked, and begin to wade forward into the water.
It’s quite chilly and soon your journey has your teeth chattering.
Little waves are stirred up by your walking and the wind that’s
beginning to grow more insistent as the sun continues to rise; they
lap around your legs with an icy bite to them. You begin to think that
this was a mistake, but you’ve come this far. Plus, if you back out
now, you’ll still be soaked. Might as well make sure your efforts
aren’t for nothing.
As you get to the ship you make out that there’s a ladder built into
the side, made of the same rusting metal as the rest of the vessel but
showing significantly more wear. Hopefully this means that it’s been
used by the residents and will hold your weight. You grab one of the
steps and haul yourself up, the water resistance trying to keep you
held in its grasp, but with enough effort you’re free and climbing
towards the deck.
Your movements are loud and echo around the empty landscape,
each movement of your foot a wet clang on the ladder rungs. You
breach the deck and as soon as your head pops over the top you’re
face to face with a spear.
There’re two natives in front of you, a girl and a boy, probably no
more than eighteen. They both have fiery mops of hair and are
wrapped in thick furs. The boy is the one pointing his weapon at
you, a scowl on his face that seems a bit forced – like he’s making
himself wear an angry expression to try and scare you away. His
partner stands back, a knife in her hands, chewing her lip.
“Get up,” says the boy, and with little other choice you clamber on
deck.
“Come with us, now,” he continues. You notice the tremble in his
voice. It’s perhaps going to be possible to disarm him.
Disarm the boy – Turn to 6.5, Needs Hand-to-Hand Combat.
Reason with the boy – Turn to 6.11.
Surrender – Turn to 6.6.
6.2A
You remember the raft that you saw from the last time that you
observed this place, how easily it transported the villagers. It would
seem like the smartest thing to do to borrow it and row it over to the
ship. It would keep you dry, at the very least, and it’s not like you’re
stealing it.
It takes some time to search through the brush and uncover where
the raft has been stashed away, hidden with a cover of brambles and
loose branches from surrounding trees. Given that there’s only one
of you, rather than a small group, it takes you a while to manoeuvre
it out and you do get splashed a little as it lands in the water, but
you’re sure it’s better than if you had tried to wade over to the ship.
The steering pole is heavy and unwieldy in your hands as you
attempt to navigate the raft over to the side of the ship. A couple of
times you go off course and once it almost slips from your hands and
sinks to the bed beneath you, but you maintain your control and
with a lot of effort make it to the side of the ship.
As you get there, you make out that there’s a ladder built into the
side, made of the same rusting metal as the rest of the vessel but
showing significantly more wear. Hopefully this means that it’s been
used by the residents and will hold your weight. You grab one of the
steps and haul yourself up, leaving the raft to float where you’ve left
it.
Your movements are loud and echo around the empty landscape,
each movement of your foot a jarring clang on the ladder rungs. You
breach the deck and as soon as your head pops over the top you’re
face to face with a spear.
There are two natives in front of you, a girl and a boy, probably no
more than eighteen. They both have fiery mops of hair and are
wrapped in thick furs. The boy is the one pointing his weapon at
you, a scowl on his face that seems a bit forced – like he’s making
himself wear an angry expression to try and scare you away. His
partner stands back, a knife in her hands, chewing her lip and
watching the scene worriedly.
“Get up,” says the boy, and with little other choice you clamber on
deck.
“Come with us, now,” he continues. You notice the tremble in his
voice. It’s perhaps going to be possible to disarm him.
Disarm the boy – Turn to 6.5, Needs Hand-to-Hand Combat.
Reason with the boy – Turn to 6.11.
6.3
“You need help? From us? ” the boy scoffs.
“Yes,” you sigh, “I was separated from my group. I’m
alone and I’m trying to find them. Have you seen anyone pass by
lately? Or do you know anyone who would?”
He looks over his shoulder at his companion. She rolls her eyes and
nods, as if giving him permission. He turns back to you and sniffs.
“We’ll take you to the chief. She’ll know what to do. But no funny
business!”
You allow yourself to be handled roughly, the boy shoving your
shoulder as the girl takes the lead. The boy’s fingers dig into you and
though your coat takes the brunt of the force you still understand
what the gesture means – don’t act out or you’ll regret it.
Turn to 6.7.
6.4
You don’t want to bother anyone prematurely. If you try to approach
their home, the villagers may react poorly. The best thing to do, you
decide, is to sit in plain sight and make yourself look as non-
threatening as possible.
You go about setting up a fire from the bracken and snapped tinder
scattered about. Though you have to fight against the wind to get the
fledgling flame to grow, soon you’re sitting comfortably in the heat,
warming your hands and face.
A time passes as you enjoy the feeling coming back to your cold,
numb extremities, and then you begin to hear shouts from onboard
the ship. A couple of what you can only assume to be guards have
spotted you and are pointing at you from their position, their
gesticulations making you guess that they’re discussing if you’re a
threat or not. You hold your hands up above your head to try to
communicate that you mean peace, and then beckon for them to
come over.
The closer they get, the more you realise these guards can’t be that
old. They awkwardly navigate a raft they drop into the water from
the side of the ship over to the bank and it strikes you how
young they actually are – fresh faced and wide eyed, they can’t be
any older than eighteen.
The boy tethers the raft to dry land before springing into action,
pointing a spear at you with narrowed eyes. His companion grips a
knife in her hands but doesn’t really look as enthusiastic to use it.
“Who are you, stranger?” asks the boy, waving his spear at you.
You carefully step back so you’re not in range to be hit, and once
again raise your hands to show you aren’t armed.
“Just a traveller looking for my people. I was hoping someone in
your village could give me advice on where to go?”
The boy turns his head to look at his companion. She gives you a
once over and shrugs, clearly not feeling threatened. Confidence
renewed, he nods and shoves his spear point back towards your
chest.
“Fine, we’ll take you to the ship, but I want your hands where I can
see them!”
“Can I put out the fire first?”
“Erm… yes.”
The question had thrown him, but he watches you extinguish it with
the spear still trained on you. You’re then marched back over to the
raft and can only observe as the girl pushes off from shore and back
into the shallow water, attempting to guide the little craft back to
the ship, clearly irritated her companion isn’t offering to help
because the entire time the boy watches you like a hawk. You try to
look as non-threatening as possible – you really don’t want them to
attack you. The most you do is sneeze, and he almost skewers you
for it.
You get the impression that this may be one of the first times these
two have been on guard duty and the boy, at least, is taking it
incredibly seriously.
When the raft gently bumps against the side of the ship you both
jump, and the girl gestures to where there’s a ladder built into the
side of the vessel itself. The girl goes up first and then you’re guided
at spearpoint to follow her. The boy brings up the rear, but his
journey is awkward as he attempts to keep his weapon trained on
you at all times.
Eventually you’re on deck. It’s busier than when you were watching
it from afar. There’s a group of villagers bringing the raft back
onboard, but none of them seem particularly bothered by you,
instead more focused on the task at hand.
“So why are you here exactly? Apart from that whole ‘being lost’
thing.”
“I need help.” – Turn to 6.3.
“I’m a doctor.” – Turn to 6.8, Needs Medicine.
“I’m a soldier.” – Turn to 6.9, Needs Sharpshooter.
“I’m an engineer.” – Turn to 6.15, Needs Engineering.
“I’m a trader.” – Turn to 6.10.
6.5
Q uick as a flash, you reach out and wrap a firm-knuckled hand
round his spear, tugging it out of his grip. The boy gasps, but you
don’t give him time to react before you spin the blunt end of it round
on his legs, tripping him.
He lands heavily, face first on the metal floor of the ship – there’s a
significant crack as he falls. You jump on his back, snapping the
spear’s handle as you go, making it far easier to hold the point to the
back of his neck when you straddle him. He groans in pain but
doesn’t move when he feels the warning of something sharp pressed
to his skin.
You look over to the girl he was with. She grasps her dagger in her
hands, wild eyed but unsure what to do. Though she doesn’t pose a
threat, you can hear approaching footsteps, coming fast.
Throw down the spear and surrender – Turn to 6.12.
Throw the spear at the girl with the knife – Turn to 6.13.
Kill the boy on the ground – Turn to 6.14.
6.6
You let the girl walk round behind you and pull your pack off your
back, then hold your wrists in her surprisingly strong grasp. The boy
lowers his spear for the first time and begins to rummage through
your provisions. He looks incredibly intrigued at all the things
you’ve brought with you, turning over items in his hands,
scrutinising them one by one. It feels incredibly invasive, having
someone go through your personal belongings. It reminds you of
being a child in the Seed Vault and finding a girl going through the
boxes under your bed to search for toys. You’d jumped on her and
slapped her silly and when you were eventually separated, kicking
and screaming, you were left with the punishment of no toys for a
week and a bitter taste of anger in your mouth.
“Look, just let me do it,” you sigh, wriggling your hands. The girl
doesn’t seem to perceive you as a threat and willingly lets you go.
You get to your knees by the boy and take over digging in your bag
until you find what you’re looking for.
Show him your tools – Turn to 6.15, Needs Engineering.
Show him your first aid kit – Turn to 6.8, Needs Medicine.
Show him your rations – Turn to 6.23.
Show him your map – Turn to 6.22.
6.7
You’re marched below deck rather inelegantly by your two gaolers.
The boy seems insistent on keeping you heavily guarded. When you
slip awkwardly on the narrow staircase, you feel the blade pushed
into your back uncomfortably.
“You don’t need to keep that spear on me all the time, you know,”
you say over your shoulder to him. He scowls.
“Yes I do.”
Unable to argue with his flawless logic, you allow the rest of the
journey to continue in silence. The girl takes you through what can
only be described as a strange labyrinth in the ship – metal
chambers lead to metal chambers, some empty and rusted through,
some with old bits of machinery sitting against the walls, their use
long forgotten.
Eventually you come into the largest room you’ve seen so far –
given the width, it must be in the bottom of the ship, and run the
length of the whole thing, too. It’s quite huge. And there are the
people to fill it.
Looking at the small town built in front of you, there must be a few
dozen people down here. They’ve set up little homes out of tents
that appear to be made from both animal fur and repurposed
material from the old world – one of the structures near to you has
some sort of plastic sheet as a doorway that has a pattern of cartoon
ducks on it.
Tents are gathered around large fireplaces that have been built with
wood and stone to keep them contained. Smoke rises up from the
burning logs to the ceiling, and you notice the ship has rusted out up
there, which allows for ventilation.
“What happens when it rains?” you ask, your amazement meaning
you’ve stopped dead. The girl at your front turns round and follows
your eyesight, speaking for the first time.
“There’s a tarpaulin we pull over them to keep the worst of it out.”
“Yes, but then we can’t get as many fires going because of the
smoke,” sighs the boy, “so we’re stuck between a rock and a hard
place.”
Stuck between a rock and a hard place. Hm. You’ve never heard that
phrase before. You jot it down in your mind.
As you continue your journey, you observe these villagers.
People sit either in their tent mouths or at the communal fire pits
doing… well, everything. You see a woman spinning yarn from what
you believe to be sheep’s wool, a man teaching his young daughter
how to fire a bow to the side of the room, a few children running
round and shrieking with joy. One of them stumbles into you, not
watching where he’s going, and for a moment you swear you
recognise him before he runs off again.
You thought people would be more bothered by your existence.
But they’re too caught up in their own world. Perhaps it was selfish
of you to think that way, to think that because you were here you’d
have such a large impact. But you suppose, to them, you’re just
another person, not worth the time.
The girl begins to slow down as you come to the largest building in
the village – if ‘building’ was quite the right word. It, in comparison
to the tents around you, is more of a yurt. It has a solid structure
made from logs tied together as well as old pieces of metal probably
found from around the ship. Inside are a group of people talking
seriously, headed by an older, red-haired woman. You think you
recognise her from somewhere – perhaps from the travellers you
saw last time with the orange beast? It’s difficult for you to
remember. When she spots you and the two guards her eyebrows
raise and she finishes what she’s saying, dismissing the villagers
she’d been addressing and walking over to you.
“Well,” she says, her voice laced with a thick accent, “what have you
two scallywags brought this time?”
“A prisoner, Morag!” says the boy, helpfully, and you look around at
him worried – you didn’t think that it was that serious. The girl to
his side rolls her eyes again and the leader – Morag, as the boy called
her – laughs heartily.
“Not to worry, you’re no prisoner. We aren’t that sort of folk. I am
curious as to why you’re here, though.”
“I’m looking for those I travelled with. My camp was scattered
during the storm. I was hoping you’d have seen them…?”
Morag shakes her head sadly and you feel something drop heavily
beneath your sternum. It’s likely you would have seen signs of them
now if they’d been here, but that still didn’t stop you from holding
onto hope.
“Sorry, love. You’re the first outsider we’ve seen for… well, a while
now, at least.”
You feel your whole body sag. Morag rubs her chin, thinking, and
then says, “Look, we’ve got a caravan going out tomorrow. Heading
over to the bridge and to the city. That’s where we do most of our
trading because that’s where the people are – you can accompany it
if you want, but when we’ve got you there we probably can’t help
you any further.”
Your face lights up. Yes, of course! Your group knows this place far
better than you. They’d definitely be somewhere with people –
safety in numbers.
“Thank you!” you cry, and Morag laughs at your enthusiasm.
“First time I’ve ever seen an outsider look so happy to go to the city.
But you’re welcome all the same. Come, have a seat round the fire
and talk to me – it’s been too long since I had someone to chat to
outside the village.”
The pair of guards who brought you are dismissed and you spend
the rest of the day with Morag. She really is an incredible woman.
You’re close enough now to really be able to take her in. Her hair is a
crop of fire but in her age, silver has started to lace through, making
her sparkle. Her eyes are a bright green that you’ve never seen
before, and the wrinkles around her eyes crinkle when she laughs –
something which she’s prone to do a lot. She speaks freely about her
life – she’s been chief for over twenty years, ever since her father
passed. However, she didn’t inherit the right; all the folk in the
village held an election and she was chosen to lead. Fascinated, you
find yourself scribbling her story down in your notebook, pages and
pages being taken up as you try to keep up with her.
“What about you?” she asks, eventually. “What’s your story?”
You tell her about coming here from the Seed Vault and the journey
over the water. You talk of the camp and the storm, and getting
separated from everyone you knew.
“Ah, you’re with Fanon’s camp,” she says with a raised eyebrow,
slurping from a mug of tea that’s been brought to her.
“You know Fanon?” you ask.
“I’ve had… run-ins with his daughter,” she chuckles, choosing her
words carefully. Yes, from what you knew of Mari, that seemed
about right for her. “Mostly we stay out of each other’s way.”
You go to ask another question, but instead are overtaken with a
yawn which you didn’t expect. Morag laughs at your shocked
expression and claps a hand on your shoulder.
“It’s getting late, you know. We’ve talked the day away. You’re
welcome to stay the night in here on the spare bedroll. If there’s
anything you want to do, feel free to do it – I’d better go and let the
guards know you’re welcome.”
“You’ve been very kind, Morag,” you confess, and she smiles.
“We’ve got to show each other kindness, love, or else we’re no better
than the beasts.”
With that she disappears into the camp.
Add Duck Curtain (F.11) to your notebook.
Add Morag (E.2) to your character sheet.
Hang with the kid – Turn to 6.26, Needs Talk to Boy.
Investigate papers – Turn to 6.25, Needs Power Plant Files.
If you want to rest for the night – Turn to 6.24.
6.8
“You’re a doctor?” asks the girl, speaking up. Her voice makes you
jump but you nod, happy to have a reason
to get on with the villagers.
“Yes, of a kind. I know medicine.”
“Come on, we’ll have a use for you after all,” she says, gesturing for
you to get to your feet. You do so, though you struggle, as the boy is
still holding a spear to you at all times. With your pack strapped
back on, you follow the girl into the bowels of the ship.
It’s a dark and slippery descent – it seems even though the villagers
have a way to cross the water and keep mostly dry, living on the
ship does have its downfalls. The girl checks every now and then
that you’re keeping up with her as she leads you through
labyrinthine rooms, full of old, strange furniture and machinery you
long to study more.
Eventually, you’re led into a small chamber a floor down, guarded by
the only working door you’ve seen on the vessel so far. It creaks
open and you realise why you’ve been brought here.
It’s a sick bay. About five people are sitting on little makeshift cots,
pallid and breathing heavily. A young woman runs between them
with a mask on her face to shield her from germs, but she
looks tired and in dire need of rest. She looks up at your group for a
moment and furrows her brow.
“Who’s this?” she asks, her voice coarse and giving away her
tiredness.
“Outsider. Doctor,” the girl guard says by way of explanation. A
spear at the back pushes you forward into the room and towards the
doctor.
“We don’t know what’s wrong with them,” she explains, “they came
back from a trading trip a couple of weeks ago like this.”
You squat by one of the patients and open your first aid kit, running
the few tests you’re able to. The three watch you with rapture until
you turn back.
“They have the flu,” you explain. The doctor lets out a long sigh.
“Is there anything you can do for them?”
You consider everything. There’s a chance you could try to nurse the
patients back to health, but you’ve no idea how long it would take
you. There’s also the added fact that some of them might fight off the
virus and make it through on their own, and you’re not sure being
here would even help that much.
“I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do.” – Turn to 6.21.
“Fine, but I’ll need your help.” – Turn to 6.16.
6.9
The boy looks scared and his companion raises an eyebrow at your
answer. You sling the rifle from over your back into your hands and
allow them to inspect it. The boy looks utterly fascinated and you
wonder if he’s ever seen a gun before.
Given the sort of weapon he carries with him, you’d guess not.
He seems to remember himself and pulls back, a guarded look on his
face.
“Have you… come from the raiders?” he asks, carefully.
“I answer to no one.” – Turn to 6.17.
“No, but I want to meet them.” – Turn to 6.18.
“No, I need to find my people.” – Turn to 6.19.
6.10
“You don’t look much like a trader. Or if you are, it’s for worthless
items,” the boy muses, poking your pack with his foot. You frown
and snatch it up, pulling it back onto you.
“Maybe to your untrained eyes,” you sniff, not liking the way he’s
talking to you. The boy senses the challenge in your voice and
instead of backing down he puffs up at you.
“No, what are you really? A scavenger? Or are you a raider?”
“I’m a scavenger of sorts.” – Turn to 6.17.
“Where are these raiders?” – Turn to 6.18.
6.11
“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” you say, and are met with a spear at
your nose.
“Likely story. Sneaking onboard the ship, being an…
outsider.” He flounders for a way to make his claim seem
reasonable, and the girl behind him rolls her eyes.
“Honestly, I mean you no harm. I was just looking for the people I
was travelling with. Besides, I’m only one person – what do you
think I was going to do, storm the place by myself?”
As much as he’d like to, the boy can’t argue with your logic, so backs
down reluctantly.
“Fine. We’ll take you to our chief. She’ll know what to do with you,”
he says. The girl begins to walk towards one of the open doors and
gestures for you to follow her, which you do, with a spear at your
back and a sigh held in your throat.
Turn to 6.7.
6.12
Even though you aren’t outnumbered now, you know you
soon will be. With a long sigh you throw the spear to the side to
indicate you aren’t going to cause any more harm.
The girl takes advantage of this and, with surprising strength,
dashes forward and plants one foot squarely in your chest. There’s
such force behind it you’re shoved backwards and when you fail to
catch your balance you feel yourself falling – she’s just kicked you
off of the ship.
The air rushes past your ears as you go down and the water is both
painful and a shock. You’re lucky there’s enough of it to cushion
your landing.
You see the girl’s face sticking out over the side, furious.
“Go and return to the folk in the south, scavenger. If we see you
again you’ll get more than thrown off the ship.”
With that she retreats and you’re left alone in the water, dripping
wet and thoroughly humiliated.
END.
6.13
You reach back and launch the spear at the girl, but she’s quick,
nimbly dodging out of the way as it clutters ineffectually to the
ground behind her. She draws the dagger from her belt and launches
herself at you, pushing you off of her companion and onto the
ground.
She goes to bring the knife down into your chest but your hand
shoots up and grabs her wrist. She grunts in frustration and still
tries to force the attack, she trying to plunge the blade into your ribs,
you trying to stay her hand.
Luckily, your battle of strength means she’s wholly distracted. You
throw up your other arm, forcing the meat of your palm hard into
her nose. She yelps and falls back, dropping the knife to clutch at
where blood is now dripping down her face. You think you have the
upper hand when you feel something painful clamp onto your leg.
It’s the boy – he’s got up and he’s biting you. You try and kick him
off but he latches on harder and you throw your head back and howl.
“What’s going on here?!”
The three of you stop and look to the voice. There’s a trio of
villagers, armed and looking a lot more competent with their
weapons than these kids did.
“Outsider came onboard and attacked us,” says the girl, wiping her
broken nose on her sleeve and leaving a trail of blood up her
forearm.
You don’t have time to react before the three new guards are
restraining you. You kick and resist but it’s three against one and
you’re injured – you struggle but are powerless to stop yourself
from being shoved into a little side room and having a door locked
on you.
There’s no window and no light, so all you can do is sit in darkness
until they come to a decision.
Turn to 6.20.
6.14
Asecond thought never crosses your mind as you bring the spear
down into the boy’s neck. From under you he looks shocked, as if he
didn’t think you’d actually do it, and blood bubbles up from his
mouth and drips down to the floor. You hear the female guard
scream, but your eyes never leave your victim as the life drains from
him.
You’re thrown backwards as the girl jumps on you, desperately
trying to stab you with a knife locked in her hand. She’s not used it
much, you can see how strange and unwieldy it is to her – it’s simple
enough to grab her wrist and restrain her. Then you bring your head
up and crack it into her nose and you feel her warm blood dripping
down your face from the impact. She screams and falls away, so you
jump after her, pinning her down with your weight and pummelling
her face with your fists.
You only stop when you’re ripped off of her by strong arms. Three
guards have arrived in the commotion and hold you tightly, forcing
you to stop your barrage. The girl sobs in pain on the floor as you’re
shoved away and thrown into a small, dark room. Though you can’t
see in the darkness, you hear the sound of a deadbolt being locked.

Turn to 6.20.
6.15
“Oh, a mechanic?” asks the boy.
“Yes, I suppose. I know how machines work,
anyway,” you state.
“You know, Charlie was looking for some help in the back…” the boy
says to the girl. She mulls this over and then nods, gesturing for you
to follow her.
With little other choice, you allow the girl to lead you through the
ship.
It’s dark and rusted in here, the only light for most of it being what
little trickles in through where metal plates have worn away. Your
footsteps echo loudly on the steel at your feet. You worry it might
give out at any moment and send you hurtling down into… well, you
have no idea what’s on the decks below. Jagged metal spikes?
Flooded chambers? You’d hate to find out that way.
After a little bit of walking, you’re led outside again, to the side of the
ship you couldn’t see before. Your eyes widen as you take in the
scene.
It looks like a filtration system. At least, a much more primitive,
cobbled-together version of the ones you had back in the vault. Its
pieces are mismatched and look like they’ve been taken from other
machines rather than made for this one, and there’s a man grunting
as he tries to tighten something with an old spanner.
“Charlie!” shouts the boy, and the man jumps and turns. He has a
thick grey beard which blends into his mane of hair, making him
look like some sort of overgrown badger. He frowns at you and
waves a gloved hand at them.
“Dinnae need ya antics now, boy. Piss off.”
“No, Charlie. This outsider is a mechanic. They can help fix the
water.”
He stops at that, and runs his eyes slowly up and down you. You feel
incredibly uncomfortable but stand still, allowing him to take you in.
“Aye, a’right. Come on then, ya wee bairn. Come ’n have a look at this
gadget.”
He waves you over to come and inspect the water filter.
You spend the next few hours out there, diagnosing the root of the
problem and then fixing it with your superior tools. It’s a shame you
don’t have access to better supplies; it seems to be a series of small
problems that could be fixed by replacing the parts. Given what you
have, you have to make do with patching it up as best you can.
Charlie and the female guard watch you inquisitively, but the boy
stays on his toes at all times, spear in his hand and a steady eye on
you.
Eventually, you jump down, covered in sweat and grease, wiping
your brow on your coat.
“Give that a go,” you say, and Charlie wanders over to a control
panel. His fingers fly over the buttons and there’s a worrying
clanking noise as the machine tries to whirr to life, followed by a low
hum which Charlie claps his hands together at.
“Ah, you’re a miracle worker!” he laughs, slapping a hand on your

back in a show of camaraderie. You smile, genuinely proud of the
work you’ve done here. “Wish we had more of you about, eh?”
What you ask next is a long shot, but you ask anyway.
“I’m, erm, I’m looking for my group. Have you seen anyone travel by
who’s like… well, like me?”
Charlie’s face falls and he shakes his head with an honest sadness.
“No, sorry. Jus’ you from the outside.”
“Ah, well,” you sigh, trying not to let the disappointment show.
Charlie seems reluctant to let this end on a sour note, so asks,
“Have ya tried the city? Lotsa people there, may have your folk in it
too?”
Hmm. Yes, that’s probably worth a try. Maybe your group tried to
seek out a bit of civilisation? It seems something to investigate at
least.
“Thank you, I’ll go there,” you say, and Charlie beams.
“And eh, chuck, you can always come back an’ work for ol’
Charlie!” he beams, and you laugh.
The guards escort you back to the side of the ship and watch you
leave. The boy seems calmer now – Charlie’s stamp of approval
seems to have put his mind at ease. You wave them goodbye as you
head away from the ship, at least with a new lead to follow.
END.
Add Charlie the Mechanic (E.4) to your character sheet.
Add Ship’s Token (O.23) to your inventory.
Add Bridge (Chapter 11, L.11) and The Raid (Chapter 7, L.7) to
the map.
6.16
You end up there for longer than you expected. You must have
stayed for a few days at least, you and the doctor toiling over the
sick, looking after them as best you can. At first you work in silence,
both a bit distrustful of the other, but eventually you begin to talk –
you find out her name is Naomi, and that she was left to take over
the medical care of the ship after the previous doctor passed
suddenly from a heart failure. She’s working non-stop, and is
constantly exhausted. You tell her of your camp being disrupted and
trying to find your group, and of all the little adventures you’ve had.
She listens to your stories, enraptured.
Though the guards watch you for a while, eventually they realise
you’re more interested in making sure the patients are safe than
killing everyone and looting, so they only check in on you
occasionally. You even become friendly with them, after a while.
Well, at the very least, the boy isn’t always pointing his spear at you.
After much concentrated, hard work the patients begin to get better,
coming back to themselves. They seem nervous an outsider has
been treating them, but Naomi reassures them everything is fine,
you’re the best assistant she’s ever had (you’re also the only
assistant she’s ever had, given what she’s told you, but you let it
slide).
You talk to the patients about yourself to let them feel more at ease
around you, and it’s during that time one of them asks if you’ve tried
the city to look for your lost companions. You haven’t, and decide
that once they’re better, you’ll head out.
One night everyone in the sick bay is eating together, doctors and
patients alike, with food your guard friends have brought to you.
You really have made a huge difference here. Naomi reaches out
suddenly and takes your hand, and you almost drop your bowl.
“Do you need to leave? You could stay here and be a doctor. You
could do good,” she asks. You sigh, because it’s tempting – stay in
this comfortable place and actually put your skills to use, or go back
into the wide world to find your group?
“I’m sorry,” you say in response, and although she nods, she can’t
hide the sadness on her face.
The next day you leave before Naomi wakes. You don’t want to say
goodbye to her. It will hurt you both to drag it out. And besides, the
flu patients are better; there’s no reason to stay any more.
You leave the ship without being interrupted, though when you look
back on the other side of the water, you see the female guard
watching you go. You wave to her and she waves back before
heading back inside the ship.
END.
Add Naomi the Medic (E.3) to your character sheet.
Add The Bridge (Chapter 11, L.11) and The Raid (Chapter 7, L.7)
to map.
6.17
“We don’t accommodate your type here,” the boy says but it’s in
such a way it’s like he’s been taught to memorise a phrase and say it
back. “We’re settled
folk here. Your kind are to the south.”
“My kind?” you ask, but the boy doesn’t seem to want to say any
more. Instead, he shoves his spear in your face and walks you
backwards to the ladder.
“Leave. You aren’t welcome,” he spits. It seems like too much of a
hassle to put up a fight, so you descend the ladder and leave the
boat. The guards watch you go and make sure you head onto dry
land, leaving their people at peace. You sigh and wish there was
more you could have said to them.
END.
Add Ship’s Guards (E.18) to your character sheet.
Add Scavenger Village (Chapter 9, L.9) and The Raid (Chapter 7,
L.7) to map.
6.18
At your words, the two guards both stiffen, clearly uncomfortable
with this sort of question. The boy looks over to his companion,
fingering his spear nervously.
“They live beyond the river. Over the bridge,” the girl says. “And you
should leave before we get the guards.”
“I thought you were guards,” you comment.
“More guards,” snaps the boy. With that, he forces you back down
the ladder and off the ship at the end of his spear, and you lose no
time hurrying back to dry land.
Warlords? Perhaps they took your group, using the storm as cover.
At the very least they’ll be powerful and worth investigating.
You add it to your map and go onwards.
END.
Add The Bridge (Chapter 11, L.11) to map.
6.19
The boy chews his lip as he considers your words. The girl behind
him watches you coolly, clearly far more in control than her
companion can ever hope to be. He looks over to her and she gives
him a nod, an ‘okay’ for him to talk.
“We’ve not seen your group. Only people on the boat are our own. If
they did pass this way when the storm was out, they’d probably
have gone to the city.”
“And where’s the city?” you ask, desperate to eke out as much
information as you can.
“To the south of here. Over the bridge.”
You nod and go to leave, feeling you won’t get any more out of these
two.
“Good luck,” comes a feminine voice, and you turn your head just
enough to nod at the female guard before clambering back down the
way you came.
END.
to map.
6.20
It’s hard to tell how much time passes in your little room. You wipe
the blood from yourself as best you can and sit quietly, trying to
make out sounds from outside the door.
Eventually the guards bring you back out into the sunlight, only to
tie you with rope and gag you. None of the villagers look at you as
you’re brought down the ladder and onto a raft. You spend the next
hours thrown across the back of the great orange beast you saw
before, travelling over the barren landscape. The thing absolutely
stinks, and you’re glad when they eventually take you off of it – until
you see who you’re facing.
The people you’re faced with look like the villagers, but rougher.
Some have scars, many have tattoos, and all of them have snarls on
their faces.
“This is the prisoner, then?” asks the one in the lead, taking your face
in his hand and inspecting you.
“Yes. Attacked our guards. Good fighter. Outsider, too.”
The man in front of you hums, looking you over, then nods.
“Fine, we’ll make the trade. Give over our end,” he shouts over his
shoulder. One of the men behind him has a couple of sacks
which are handed over to the ship folk who brought you here, and in
return they drag you off with them.
“You’re a good ’un,” chortles the man, “outsiders always make the
best prisoners.”
END.
Add The Cell (Chapter 16, L.16) to map.
Go to The Cell (Chapter 16).
6.21
The doctor nods; sad, but unsurprised. “It was a high hope for an
outsider. Go and take them to Morag, she’ll know what to do,” she
says, with a sigh.
You feel bad for a moment as the guards take you out of the room.
Perhaps you could have done something to help. It’s too late to tell
now, and instead you let yourself be led further into the ship.
Turn to 6.7.
6.22
“That’s very detailed,” the boy remarks, turning over your map in his
hands. You carefully take it back off of him, worried he’ll mark it.
“Yes, my group gave it to me. I’m trying to find them – they moved
from their campsite when the storm hit. Have you seen anyone go
past who’s like me?”
The boy chews his lip as he considers your words. The girl behind
him watches you coolly, clearly far more in control than her
companion can ever hope to be. He looks over to her and she gives
him a nod, an ‘okay’ for him to talk.
“We’ve not seen your group. Only people on the boat are our own.
But if they did pass this way when the storm was out they’d
probably have gone to the city.”
“And where’s the city?” you ask, desperate to eke out as much
information as you can.
“To the south of here. Over the bridge.”
You nod and leave. You won’t get anything more out of these two.
END.

to map.
6.23
The boy looks over the meagre rations you have with you and sniffs.
“You’re not much of a trader, are you?” he asks, bluntly.
“No. But what I do have, I’m happy to share,” you say. Your sincerity
shocks the boy, him clearly not expecting such behaviour from an
outsider.
“Uh… fine. We’ll take you to the chief and see what she wants to do
with you. But no funny business,” he warns, pointing the spear at
you for added emphasis.
“No funny business,” you confirm, and the girl gestures for you to
follow her into the ship.
Turn to 6.7.
6.24
Having done everything you planned to do, you settle on the bedroll
Morag pointed out, surprised at how soft it is.
Though it’s odd having the gentle noise of people around you, as
you’re so used to sleeping just with the sounds of nature, there’s
something undeniably comforting about the melody of human life
playing out. You fall asleep to people talking and laughing, and you
don’t dream.
You sleep deeply through the night and wake up the next morning
well rested. Morag has started a little fire in the space outside of her
tent and grins as you wake.
“Morning, sleepyhead. Hungry?”
Your stomach gives a loud gurgle to betray that the answer to that is
yes, very. Morag laughs and waves you over to her, giving you a plate
of eggs and meat. You thank her and wolf them down –
this might be the tastiest thing you’ve eaten here.
“When you’re done, I’ll take you on deck and introduce you to the
caravan. They’ll be heading for the bridge soon.”
You nod and it doesn’t take you long to finish your meal – it’s so
delicious you forget to savour it, and regret it after. Morag leads you
through the camp where just as much attention is paid to you as

when you entered, and she leads you out into the sunshine.
The caravaners are welcoming, if a little distant, but warm up to you
well enough when you offer to hold some of their goods for the
journey. With nothing else to do, you thank Morag from the bottom
of your heart for her kindness.
“It was no problem, love. Just pay it forward, all right?”
You nod, promising her something she has no way of checking, and
leave with the caravan.
END.
to map.
6.25
You remember the papers from the plant that you found, sitting
nestled in the bottom of your pack. This might be exactly the kind of
place you need in order to do some investigating. There are
remnants of the old world here, after all –
why not memories from the people?
Awkwardly, you begin to ask around in the village, trying to find if
any of them know about the abandoned plant a few miles away.
Either they ignore you, are too busy in their own work, or apologise
that they have no idea. You’re almost ready to give up when you
hear an old voice crackle from behind you, “The plant?”
You turn and see an old man sitting in the mouth of his tent. He must
be the most ancient thing you’ve seen here. He invites you to sit
down with him and you offer him the paper, which he looks at with
sad eyes.
“Data outputs. Reports on curie and becquerel levels. Making sure
that the radiation output was safe in the plant, not enough to cause
radiation sickness for the people who had jobs running the place.”
His face falls even further as he continues, “My great-grandfather
worked there. I never met him, but my family always told
me he was never the same after the War. He blamed himself, his part
in nuclear power. Took his own life.”
The man hands you back the papers.
“Those might have been useful once, but the radiation levels are far
above whatever’s on those sheets now. That place is only full of
sickness and ghosts.”
He doesn’t say any more, instead turning back to the fire, sombre.
You leave him to his thoughts, throwing the papers into the flame
and watching them burn.
Remove Power Plant Files from your character sheet.
Turn to 6.24.
6.26
You follow the sound of children playing and soon find him.
The boy is playing some sort of catching game with his friends, and
when he spies you he gives you a big smile and jogs over.
“Hello,” he says.
“Hello. You’re not very scared of strangers, are you?”
“You ain’t a stranger. We met before.”
You want to point out to him you were a stranger when he first met
you, but feel like it would be a pointless conversation.
“You afraid of frogs any more?” he asks.
“No, you were right. They aren’t scary.”
He beams at you, then reaches out and touches your arm.
“Tag!” he shouts, and the children scatter. All you can do is laugh and
chase them, having been unceremoniously brought into their game.
You spend the evening with the children. They find you fascinating,
a strange outsider with stranger stories. Eventually their parents
call them for bed, and they complain, but go anyway.
“It was nice to see you again,” you tell the boy.
“You too. Be safe all right?”
“I will,” you chuckle, and watch him go back to his tent. You believe
you’ve made a friend in this strange place.
Turn to 6.24.
CHAPTER 7
THE RAID
7.0
Turn to 7.1.
Turn to 7.1a, Needs Ship’s Guards
7.1
The ship is beginning to be a familiar sight now, almost like coming
home after a long journey. In a way, you suppose it’s now the closest
thing you have to a home, in that you’ve been there more than once.
It’s a sad thought. You know more people here than anywhere else.
The shore is busier than when you last came here. It seems like the
inhabitants of the ship are making the best of the weather, trying to
get their chores done before the ever-present threat of rain decides
to make good on its promise.
There are a couple of people shifting crates from the muddy lakeside
to a raft. A group of children are playing noisily nearby and fall to
silence as you walk past, eyeing you with wary, inquisitive eyes. You
approach one of the working men and hear stifled giggles behind
you – when you turn you see the children following at a distance,
going still every time you turn back. It reminds you of a game you
used to play when you were young in the vault. You allow yourself a
little smile at their antics.
The man is grunting as he heaves the heavy weight of boxes. He
looks up at you momentarily when you come into his peripheral
vision, but doesn’t stop his work.
Ask to go to the ship – Turn to 7.2.

Help him – Turn to 7.3.
7.1A
The ship is beginning to be a familiar sight now, though you’re not
sure if that’s a good thing or not. Last time you were here things
didn’t go… smoothly. You hope there’s not a repeat of that.
The shore is busier than when you last came here. It seems like the
inhabitants of the ship are making the best of the weather, trying to
get their chores done before the ever-present threat of rain makes
good on its promise. There are a couple of people shifting crates
from the muddy lakeside to a raft. A group of children are playing
noisily nearby and fall to silence as you walk past, eyeing you with
wary, inquisitive eyes. You approach one of the working men and
hear stifled giggles behind you – when you turn you see the children
following at a distance, going still every time you turn back. It
reminds you of a game you used to play when you were young in the
vault. You allow yourself a little smile at their antics.
The man is grunting as he heaves the heavy weight of boxes. He
looks up at you momentarily when you come into his peripheral
vision, but doesn’t stop his work.
Ask to go to the ship – Turn to 7.2.
Help him – Turn to 7.3.
7.2
The man looks up – but not at you, at the children who are creeping
ever closer, and yells something at them you don’t quite catch. They
scatter like disturbed flies and run off further down the bank,
giggling as they go. He finally turns to you, his heavy-set brow
furrowed in what looks like a mix of annoyance and exhaustion.
“Ye wan tae get to the boat? Help me load up. Dinnae jus’ stand there
like a useless mug.”
He goes back to what he was doing, and with a sigh you join in.
Turn to 7.3.
7.3
The crates are heavy under your hands and some of them rattle
wildly. You begin to wonder what might be inside them, or even
where they came from. You go to open your mouth to ask the man,
but judging by the permanent scowl on his face you think engaging
in conversation of any kind with him may not be a good idea.
Instead, you concentrate on the effort of manual labour, stacking the
raft far higher than you thought it would be able to take.
Eventually all the crates have been moved and the man wipes his
brow with a thick forearm, stepping onto the raft and gesturing for
you to follow. It lurches wildly beneath your feet and you grab onto
the cargo for support – you swear you hear the man let out a little
laugh at you as he pushes off from the bank.
The journey takes a while. Even though the distance to the ship isn’t
far, it’s clearly an effort to get the raft to move under such a weight.
Eventually you finish crossing and climb on board while the man
begins to work on some sort of intricate pulley system to unload the
cargo.
It’s surprisingly busy on deck, too. A group of what you assume to be
fighters are patrolling, clutching spears in their hands. They’re
scanning the horizon and seem worried. Along the railing, a woman
is sitting with her legs slung over the rusting bars, keeping a
watchful eye on the children playing in the shallows.
Speak to the man on the raft – Turn to 7.4.
Go inside the ship – Turn to 7.5.
Approach the fighters – Turn to 7.6.
Approach the woman – Turn to 7.7.
7.4
“So what’s your story then?” you ask, quickly catching on to how the
pulley system works and helping the man unload the raft.
“No story, bairn. Scavenger,” he says by way of explanation, his voice
gruff and gravelly. The voice of someone whose life hasn’t been easy
and who doesn’t enjoy talking about it.
“Scavengers?” you ask, rolling the word around in your mouth.
“Aye. From up the river. Lookin’ fer things o’ value in what’s left o’
the ol’ world. Rest o’ the group’s inside.” He gestures towards the
door which leads into the underbelly of the ship. You work in silence
for the rest of the time – the man doesn’t seem to want any more
questions.
Approach the fighters – Turn to 7.6.
Approach the woman – Turn to 7.7.
7.5
Your footsteps echo in the small, enclosed chamber of the stairwell.
The light doesn’t filter down well here and you have to cling on to
the handrail to stop yourself slipping and falling.
To find the village in the ship all you have to do is follow the noise.
It’s louder than last time and easier to navigate – soon you’re in the
ship’s belly and surrounded by the commotion of everyday life.
Small fires litter the floor and trail smoke up and out through worn
holes in the ship’s ceiling. People are up and moving, mostly
transporting even more goods – clearly you’ve come on a day of
trade. A woman with her hair tied up in a thick bun is shouting at
two of the traders, dressed similarly to the man on the raft. They
don’t seem happy. To her left an old man looks up from where he
and an opponent are playing some sort of game involving coloured
beads on a wooden board. He raises his eyebrows at the uproar
she’s causing but doesn’t get involved.
Nobody makes a move to say anything to you; you’re just as ignored
as you were the first time you came onboard.
Watch the game – Turn to 7.8.
Watch the argument – Turn to 7.9.
7.6
You approach the gang of soldiers, two men and one woman
– a different group than the young teens you met last time you were
on the ship. They eye you warily as you come over but they don’t
make an attempt to stop you. Perhaps word of you has got around
on the ship and they know you’re a friend? On the other hand,
maybe they just don’t think you’re enough of a threat to send
overboard.
One of the soldiers is looking at an old siren, fiddling with some
wires in a powerbox beneath it. He looks frustrated and lets out a
curse word.
“Can’t Charlie do this?” he asks his colleagues. The woman sniffs.
“Nah. He’s tryin’ to fix the toilet blocks again. We need more
engineers,” sniffs the woman.
Offer to help – Turn to 7.10, Needs Engineering.
Offer to help – Turn to 7.10a, Needs Charlie the Mechanic.
Greet them – Turn to 7.11.
Watch on silently – Turn to 7.12.
7.7
You approach the woman on the railings. She looks up and gives you
a little smile of acknowledgement and you lean next to her, letting
the breeze ruffle your hair.
“They find strangers interesting,” she says, nodding her head
towards the gaggle of children on the bank. “They don’t mean any
harm.”
“I know,” you say, because you do. No matter where they were born
and raised, children are children – naturally curious. At the moment
they’re playing a game that just seems to involve shoving the
smallest one around good naturedly. You allow yourself a moment
of peace as you watch them play.
There’s a sudden commotion behind you as the soldiers run up to
the railings, pointing across the landscape. You squint as you try to
spot what’s giving them concern and see only silhouettes on the
skyline of a hill.
The woman has caught on. Her eyes have gone wide and her face
pale, and she begins to shout down to the children to get back to the
ship. They stop playing and look up at her with blank-faced
confusion.
You go to ask what’s happening when the question is answered for

you – a gunshot rings out across the horizon. There’s a ping! as
about a foot below you, a bullet glances off the side of the ship,
leaving a dent and scattering rust into the water below. In the
distance you see a party approaching the boat, a couple of dozen
strong, wicked smiles on their faces and weapons in their hands.
You hear a word being echoed on deck.
Raiders.
Ready your weapon – Turn to 7.13, Needs Sharpshooter.
Take cover – Turn to 7.14.
Run to the children – Turn to 7.16.
7.8
You walk over to the old men and their game. One of them looks up
at you, studies you for a moment, and gestures for you to take a seat.
Awkwardly crossing your legs on the corroded floor, you watch the
men silently play their game. It doesn’t seem too difficult, a matter of
moving coloured beads along the side of a board in order to collect
the most to win. The clacking of the glass is almost relaxing and you
find yourself tuning entirely into the game, blocking out the noises
of the world around you. The men get through at least three games
before you hear a scream.
You finally tear your gaze away from the board to look around you.
The villagers are panicking. Looks of wide-eyed horror are all over
their faces and they’re running around, worriedly, heading up to
deck. You hear one word being repeated.
Raiders.
When you look back, the old men have packed up their game.
Unlike the people surrounding them they don’t look particularly
worried – just resigned. The one who invited you to join them looks
you in the eye, a soft sadness about him.
“I think you’d better get on deck, child,” he says. You think it’s wise
to do as he says.
Add Game Knowledge (O.10) to your inventory.
Turn to 7.15.
7.9
The woman is about half a foot shorter than both the
scavengers but seems to have no problem giving them a piece of her
mind.
“You call this fresh? Fresh, my arse. We were promised it’d be no
more than a day old!”
“It ain’t more’n a day old. It was sunny yesterday. It dried out,”
says one of the men, a look of steely determination on his face
tempered only slightly by worry at the way the woman was pointing
her finger directly in his face.
“Oh, I see. You think just cos I’m some village woman you can pull a
fast one on me? I don’t think so, sunshine. We want a discount for
your crappy old meat,” she spits, her anger rising. Your head is going
back and forth between them – it’s actually a little bit funny to
watch.
You’re about to step in and see if you can offer a peaceful solution
when you hear a scream. Another chorus of panicked shouts follows
it and you look around to see people beginning to move, quickly –
heading towards the deck.
“What’s happening?” you ask a group passing you by.
“Raiders,” says a man, darkly, pulling a knife from his belt and
holding it firmly in his hand. “Can you fight? Get on deck and help.”
You follow him, unsure if you have a choice.
Turn to 7.15.
7.10
“You can help?” says the young man with a raised
eyebrow.
“I know mechanics,” you say, squatting down and taking over from
him. The group watches you carefully but seem quite happy for you
to experiment.
The siren is old but in surprisingly good condition – the problem
seems to be that some of the wires have rotted away. You root
around in your pack until you find some spares and go about
replacing them. It doesn’t take long; you’re lucky the tools you need
aren’t complicated and you can source them from your toolbox.
Soon you hear the alarm buzzing back to life. You stand up and go to
smile at the soldiers only to find they aren’t watching you any more.
They’re at the railing. Even from the back you can tell they’re
terrified. They grip their weapons, white-knuckled. The oldest guard
turns to you.
“Sound the alarm!” he shouts, eyes wide.
“Why?”
“Raiders, that’s fucking why!” he shouts back. Raiders. The last thing
you need. You pull the alarm down as hard as you can and the
klaxon begins to ring out around the ship, an ugly noise for a
horrible situation.
Turn to 7.15.
7.10A
“You can help?” says the young man with a raised
eyebrow.
“Yeah. I helped Charlie fix the water unit last time I was on the ship.
You can ask him if you want,” you say. The oldest guard nods.
“You know, he did mention an outsider. We all thought he’d finally
lost his marbles,” he sniffs. You take over from the young guard at
the siren and think about Charlie, coming to the conclusion you’re
not sure if he ever had marbles to lose.
The siren is old but in surprisingly good condition – the problem
seems to be that some of the wires have rotted away. You root
around in your pack until you find some spares and go about
replacing them. It doesn’t take long; you’re lucky the tools you need
aren’t complicated and you can source them from your toolbox.
Soon you hear the alarm buzzing back to life. You stand up and go to
smile at the soldiers only to find they aren’t watching you any more.
They’re at the railing. Even from the back you can tell they’re
terrified. They grip their weapons, white-knuckled. The oldest guard
turns to you.
“Sound the alarm!” he shouts, eyes wide.
“Why?”
“Raiders, that’s fucking why!” he shouts back. Raiders. The last thing
you need. You pull the alarm down as hard as you can and the
klaxon begins to ring out around the ship, an ugly noise for a
horrible situation.
Turn to 7.15.
7.11
“You know anything about mechanics?” asks the
youngest guard. You shake your head and he huffs.
“What’s the problem?” you question, still curious.
The woman sighs.
“We’re expecting a raider attack. They’ve been threatening us for a
while now. Need the alarm system up and running in case anything
bad happens, you know. Make sure everyone can be safe. Or at least
warned.” Her face looks dour and she goes back to watching her
colleague. You sense there’s nothing more you can do here.
Approach the woman at the railing – Turn to 7.7.
7.12
You decide it’s unlikely you can help the guards, and the woman
seems lost in her own thoughts. It’s best for you to just leave them
alone for the moment, you decide. Wait for them to come to you. You
are on their property after all.
You take a moment to appreciate the soft breeze blowing across the
ship. It ruffles your hair and tickles your face, making you sneeze.
You finally have a moment to enjoy the world.
Or so you thought .
A gunshot rings out. It’s a sound you recognise but haven’t heard for
a while. It takes you a moment to realise where it went, but soon you
see the woman has put her hands to her chest, and looks at them in
surprise when she draws back and they’re covered in blood.
She makes a small, strangled noise and falls, tumbling off the railings
and into the water below.
You hear the sound of the children below screaming. The soldiers
rush to the place where she once stood. Another bullet ricochets off
the side of the ship. You turn and look out onto the dry land. A party
is approaching – a couple dozen rough-looking men and women,
weapons in their hands and nasty smiles on their faces. You hear the
word being passed around on deck through desperate whispers –
raiders!
Help the children – Turn to 7.16.
7.13
In a flash, your gun is swung round off of your shoulder and into
your hands, its weight a feeling of comfort for you. The guards
around you haven’t paid attention to what you’re doing and are busy
readying their bows and arrows and their lines of spearmen –
you’re about to put them all to shame.
You load up your gun, and raise it up to look through the scope.
The raiders are fast moving and fierce. Each of their faces are etched
with a look of angry determination. You can understand why the
villagers are so scared of them. They’re beginning to wade through
the water, a few of them are already on the ladder which leads to the
deck. One man eyes you and gives you a savage smile.
You pull the trigger and put a bullet in his skull.
The deck falls into relative silence as the villagers see what you’re
doing. This is the sort of weaponry they’ve only ever seen on their
enemies. But they watch as you reload and fire again, taking down a
woman who dodged the corpse of your first victim.
The raiders have caught on to what’s happening and are beginning
to ready their own ammunition, but a storm of arrows rains down
on them, piercing limbs and torsos in various degrees of success.
You look to your left and see the older guard from round
the klaxon – he has another arrow notched and gives you a solemn
nod.
You continue to fire on your adversaries, and even though the
raiders fire back they’re falling quicker than they can attack – the
bodies piling up around the bottom of the ship are acting as a grim
barricade against them. A couple of the younger members of the
raiding party are shouting to each other before turning on their
heels and running back the way they came.
Kill all the raiders – Turn to 7.18.
Allow them to run – Turn to 7.19.
7.14
You can’t fight. Not raiders, actual soldiers in this place. The most
you can hope to do is hide for long enough to let the fight pass over.
If you’re lucky, the fight will pass right by you and they won’t even
notice. Keep your head down and hide, then sneak away when
victory is with one side or another.
You scamper past the assembling village folk to the back of the ship,
finding a small freestanding cupboard on deck strewn roughly
together from reused planks. It smells strongly and you guess the
place may be used for curing fish – not that you’re about to
complain. Instead, you hunker down behind some old barrels and
hope for the best.
An indeterminate amount of time passes. You hear the sounds of
footsteps every now and then, but it’s impossible to know which
side they belong to. The occasional shout doesn’t do anything to
calm your nerves either. But eventually the sound of gunfire lessens
and war cries stop.
You risk taking a peek over the top of the barrel. Raiders are
standing around the ship, moving the bodies of the villagers into
piles. You wince at the heavy-handed way they treat the corpses,
recognising a couple of the faces from people you’d met in passing.
It’s a shame it had to end this way.
The raiders don’t seem to have noticed you yet, but they are
swarming all over the deck. You can try to escape, or you can
surrender and hope for their mercy.
Try to escape – Turn to 7.21.
7.15
People are gathering on the deck of the ship, and bullets fly
overhead with less and less time between them. They slice through
the air with a high-pitched whine and hit the steel plating of the ship
with a sharp ping. If it were only one or two, it might have been
bearable, but they’re coming in dozens now and it’s thunderous.
The villagers are arming themselves but with no more than bows
and arrows and the occasional spear. For every one that they fire,
the raiders get off at least five in return. Villagers recoil with their
whole bodies from the impact of the bullets, dropping their weapons
and clutching themselves in shock. The longer you look around, the
faster people are falling.
Give aid to the wounded – Turn to 7.20, Needs Medicine.
Improvise defences – Turn to 7.22.
Try to escape – Turn to 7.21.
7.16
T he children, you think, eyes wide and head turning, who’s helping
them?!
You stick low to the floor and travel as quickly as you can to the
railings at the side of the boat. The rusting floor beneath you flakes
and sticks into you sharply. You wince but keep going.
The raiders are closing in on the boat. They’re beginning to load up
guns in earnest now, shouting orders between them. The children
from the bank have made it back to the ship and are climbing the
ladder to get on board, scrabbling desperately, but their wet feet
mean they’re slipping and falling as they go.
You reach out a hand to the child nearest you. With wide, horror-
stricken eyes he takes it and you haul him up onto the deck, passing
him back and shoving him away to hide. You scramble as quickly as
you can to get the others up, too – trying to ignore the bullets
whizzing past your head as the raiders see what you’re doing and
try to take you out.
The last child on the ladder is moving slowly, and you see a trail of
blood dripping down the side of the ship, into the water, from her
leg. She cringes every time she puts weight on it. She must have
been shot by one of the raiders – you curse them under your breath.
Monsters.
You stick your torso as far as you can over the side of the ship and
grab her. She makes a little strangled noise as you grab her by the
collar and heave, the effort of it making you grunt, but you pull both
her and yourself on deck. You tumble a couple of times but someone
comes and takes the girl out of your grip, holding her close and
nodding her thanks at you. The two of them run off, but the sound of
fighting continues.
Take Cover – Turn to 7.14.
Attempt to escape – Turn to 7.21.
7.17
You come out from behind the barrels, holding your hands up high,
hoping for the best. It takes a while for the raiders to notice you, but
they begin to bark orders at each other when they see. A gun is
raised to you and you flinch, thrusting your hands into the air with
even more vigour, trying to let them know you’re giving up.
You’re dragged out from the smoking shed and brought out into the
open. You seem to be the only non-raider left on deck. They watch
you with narrowed eyes, unsure of how to continue.
Eventually a man steps forward from the crowd, his face covered in
deep scars, smiling at you through a mouth of rotten teeth.
“An outsider, eh?” he asks, looking you up and down. He nods to one
of the others and suddenly you’re taken roughly by the shoulders
and forced to your knees. The man takes your chin in his grubby
hands and inspects your face as if you’re a piece of meat.
“Well, your type always fetch a good price,” he croons, and before
you can react heavy shackles are slapped onto your wrists.
You panic and pull against them to his amusement. He brings down
the butt of his gun onto your head and you see stars, and then black.
END.
Add The Cell (Chapter 16, L.16) to your map.
Turn to The Cell (Chapter 16).
7.18
You reload again, letting the casings fall out of your gun and onto the
floor with a tink. You fire another round downwards into the
oncoming raiders, watching more of them fall to the ground like
ragdolls dropped by bored children. You lose yourself for a moment,
unloading clip after clip into them. Eventually, you realise the other
sounds of fighting have died down, no more arrows are being fired –
it’s just you and your gun now.
You’re unsure how long it takes to down all of the raiders, but soon
you can’t see any more of them moving, neither in the pile that lay in
the shallow water around the ship nor further out, those that tried
to escape.
You lower your gun and turn to face the villagers. All of them stare
at you in silence. A mother has hidden her son’s eyes. A quiet has
fallen over the ship but it isn’t a calm one. It’s full of unease.
Unease at you.
Slowly, they begin to depart from where they’re clumped together,
tidying, picking up stray arrows. None of them look you in the eye as
they busy themselves. You decide it’s probably best to leave before
they start asking questions.
The ship stays silent on the wind until it’s out of sight.
END.
Add The Great Migration (Chapter 8, L.8) to your map.
7.19
You rest your finger on the trigger as you watch the young raiders
scramble away, losing their footing on the muddy bank. You turn the
sights away from them. If they’re running, they probably won’t be a
problem. Best to focus on the raiders still climbing up.
You spend a little more time unloading bullets into them and
dodging theirs. Eventually, all the raiders are dead or have fled –
either way, no more of them are attempting to make it onto the ship.
With a sigh, you lower your weapon and look around you to where
the villagers are gathering themselves and cleaning up. They collect
the bodies of the fallen and pick up remaining bullets from the floor,
the children turning them over in their hands like precious gems.
The eldest guard claps you on the shoulder and gives you a solemn
nod. You return it before watching the slowest of the raiders
running off into the horizon, back to their base.
You let yourself revel in the knowledge you’ve done a good thing.
END.
Add The Great Migration (Chapter 8, L.8) and The Bridge
(Chapter 11, L.11) to your map.
7.20
It’s not hard to find people to treat. A man in front of you clutches
his arm as blood pumps out of it, the bullet wound deep and red,
staining the browns of his furs. You use your pocketknife to cut
away the fabric and reveal the bloody hole. It’s deep, lodged far into
his flesh. It’s no wonder he’s suffering.
“Bite down on this,” you tell him, shoving the rags in his mouth.
He looks up at you, wide-eyed, but does so dutifully. It doesn’t stop
him screaming from under them when you shove the blade into the
hole and dig the bullet out. You don’t give him time to struggle,
doing the quick operation as fast as you can. The discarded bullet
falls to the floor with a sharp noise. You plug the wound as best you
can before moving onto the next injured villager.
Every time you treat a wounded soldier, another one appears.
You go as quickly as you can between them, giving the best aid
you’re able to. It seems to help. The villagers get back up quickly,
nursing their wounds and going on to fight. Having a skilled medic
onside helps. It’s a nasty battle, but it soon seems the raiders are
falling back and cheers of victory are going up.
The eldest guard claps you on the shoulder and gives you a solemn
nod. You return it before watching the slowest of the raiders
running off into the horizon, back to their base.

You let yourself revel in the knowledge you’ve done a good thing.
END.
Add The Great Migration (Chapter 8, L.8) and The Bridge (Chapter
11, L.11) to your map.
7.21
The raiders are coming thick and fast. It’s only a matter of time until
they overrun the place – and then it’s everyone for themselves. You
feel a fleeting sense of worry – perhaps you owe these people more,
perhaps you should stay and fight – but you’re only one person, one
outsider. What can you do to help?
You run around the back of the ship, going against the tide of people,
pushing them out the way and ignoring the looks they shoot you as
you run. The sounds of battle flare up behind you; you ignore them
the best you can.
It seems the raiders were only attacking from one front. The other
side of the ship is empty, the villagers having all gone to fight.
There’s no ladder on this side, but you scramble over the railings
and drop down from them into the water – the fall hurts and you
sink into the mud, but it’s better than the alternative of being shot.
You wade through the heavy water and onto the bank, running away
and not looking back as the gunfire gets louder and, eventually,
ceases.
END.

7.22
“Have you got any alcohol?” you shout to the oldest
guard. He looks at you with confusion, but passes you
a bottle of whisky from inside his coat.
You rip a strip of fabric from your coat and shove it into the bottle
neck before setting fire to the end. You take a step back and with the
strongest throw you can muster lob it at the raiders.
The bottle explodes on landing and fire catches wildly. Two raiders
scream as flames climb over them, devouring them in bright orange.
The guard catches on and shouts for the villagers to grab all the
bottles they can. Soon, the sky is awash with fire as bomb after
bomb are thrown at the raiders, and cries of pain rise up from the
attackers. Some of them try to flee, but they find themselves not
getting far as arrows suddenly stick out of them like the quills of a
porcupine, or they get a spear through the back. The people around
you cheer at their victory and the guard slaps you on the back.
“You’re a clever one, eh?” he asks. You smile and watch the fire
flicker.
END.

CHAPTER 8
THE GREAT MIGRATION
8.1
It’s your fourth time at the ship and you feel like you know what to
expect – that is, until you see the smoke on the horizon, thick and
choking, being pumped into the air heavily and horribly. A panic
rises in your chest and you find yourself sprinting towards the scene
in desperation, needing to find out what has happened.
As suspected, you can see the inside of the ship being roasted with
flame. Tongues of fire lick out from the rusted metal holes and
windows and dance embers into the air. Even from this distance, ash
flakes are swirling through the air like snow, gently burning your
skin where they land. On the bank opposite the ship you see a
hundred people standing around, all ex-residents of the ship.
They’re collecting bags and carts. It looks like they’re about to start
leaving the site of the blaze. You wonder what’s going on, what
prompted this sudden change.
Find out who’s in charge – Turn to 8.2.
Find out who’s in charge – Turn to 8.2a, Needs Morag.
Ask someone nearby – Turn to 8.3.
Watch silently – Turn to 8.4.
8.2
You run down the bank and into the crowd. Not much
attention is paid to you, everyone is so caught up in sorting
themselves out.
“Who’s in charge here?” you ask one of the nearby families. The man
from the group looks at you with a furrowed brow, unhappy to be
disturbed.
“Morag,” he nods his head in the direction of a red-haired, middle-
aged woman who appears to be directing the flow of people.
You cut through the crowd to her and wait for her to pause in her
chain of commands.
“Can I help?” she asks, finally noticing you and giving you a look up
and down.
“What’s going on here? Why are you leaving the ship?” She looks
confused for a moment, not recognising you as a member of her
tribe, but then clearly decides that it’s not worth hiding anything
from you. You must not pose that much of a threat to her.
“We’re moving on, child. One too many raider attacks left us with
one too many wounded. No place to raise the children. We’ve got to
try and find somewhere safer.”
“Why are you burning it?” you ask, still absolutely flabbergasted at
the inferno.
“Make sure the bastards can’t steal anything else,” she says, sadly.
“Anything we don’t need is burned up. If we can’t have it, neither can
they.” Her next words are to the group at large. “Al right, come on. If
we want to get to a good camp by sunset, we’ve got to get moving!”
And then back to you, “You’re welcome to join us if you help us
move.”
Add Morag (E.2) to your character sheet.
Walk with the group – Turn to 8.6.
8.2A
You know exactly who is in charge here, and following the sound of
her voice, it doesn’t take long to find the flame-haired Morag
shouting orders and organising the rough group. She smiles when
she sees you and claps you on the shoulder.
“Ah, chick! Didn’t expect to see you again. Guess you caught us just
in time, eh?”
It is good to see her, but you don’t have time to catch up.
“What’s going on here? Why are you leaving the ship?”
“We’re moving on, child. One too many raider attacks left us with
one too many wounded. No place to raise the children. We’ve got to
try and find somewhere safer.”
“But why are you burning it?” you ask, still absolutely flabbergasted
at the inferno.
“Make sure the bastards can’t steal anything else,” she says, sadly.
“Anything we don’t need is burned up. If we can’t have it, neither can
they.” Her next words are to the group at large. “All right, come on. If
we want to get to a good camp by sunset, we’ve got to get moving!”
And then back to you, “You’re welcome to join us if you help us
move.”
8.3
You go down to one of the smaller groups within the pack. It’s a
family, a mother and father with a couple of small children.
They’re sorting through bags of meagre belongings and trying to
organise their possessions so each member carries some of the load.
You clear your throat to get their attention and the father looks up at
you, irritated at being interrupted.
“Can you tell me what’s going on here?”
“You don’t know?” he asks, incredulously, shaking his head.
“We’re moving. Trying to get away from the raider attacks. Last one
was a bad one. Morag said it was time to find somewhere else.”
You nod, and before you can ask any more questions, he’s turned
back to his children who keep trying to squirm out of their bags. You
sigh and look around. It’s certainly a sad sight, all these people being
uprooted from their home. But you understand the danger of the
scavengers. You wonder if you’d act any differently in their place.
8.4
You cast your eyes over the dozens of heads assembled at the shore.
It’s a loud group, the shouting of orders being repeated from person
to person to try to rally them into formation. There are all sorts of
people; from children, anxious to get going, to the elderly who may
not survive the trip.
You look once again to the fire. You imagine it will burn until the
ship is nothing but a carcass and all that’s left is the water around it.
It feels a bit sad, seeing this great monument turned to nothing. But
then you feel a bit selfish – you’re sad that a relic of the old world is
being lost, but these people are losing their home. Some of these
children haven’t known anything else, and here you are, mourning
architecture.
You feel a little embarrassed and find yourself turning your head
away.
8.5
There’s nothing for you here, you decide. You aren’t part of this
group and it feels rude to try to impose on them like this.
You watch for a little while, until the group leaves your sight. A few
people fall behind and you catch snippets of conversation – you hear
them mentioning a bridge a few miles from here, and a scavenger
camp not far from that. You jot down the places on your map and
think maybe they’re worth investigating.
You hope they find what they’re looking for in this harsh world. It’s
the kindest thing you can wish for them, a home to survive in.
It’s getting dark. You make camp for the evening and listen to the
sound of silence, only permeated by the gentle crackling of the
distant fire.
END.
Add Bridge (Chapter 11, L.11) and Scavenger Village (Chapter 9,
L.9) to map.
8.6
You decide to walk with them. It’s always good to have safety in
numbers, and you can use them for protection while also looking for
your own group.
The travel is slow and arduous. The scouts at the front don’t want to
leave anyone behind, so the pace can only be as fast as the slowest
member. It seems like the younger children and elderly are carried
on carts to try to speed up the venture, but seeing as everyone is
carrying everything they own, speed is definitely sacrificed.
There are a good half a dozen wooden wagons between the group,
each piled high with assorted camping equipment and basic
furniture. Some of them are pulled by stronger members of the
group, who heave in teams like pack animals, others are being
towed by strange orange beasts. You think you’ve seen these
creatures around the ship before. They seem docile, but need a
handler to keep them moving onwards as they lumber slowly and
roughly.
In front of you, one of them slips and falls to its knees, halting the
people around it. A young woman yelps as it happens and bends
down to try and assist the collapsed animal.
Help the woman – Turn to 8.7.

Talk to the people around you – Turn to 8.8.
Keep walking – Turn to 8.9.
8.7
You rush over to where the beast has tumbled. The woman is trying
to get her hands under it and heave it back to its feet, but it’s no
small task given the size of the thing, and she is hardly large. She
looks up at you with thankful eyes when she notices you’ve come to
help.
“Just grab him under the stomach and lift – this happens sometimes,
he’s not as young as he used to be,” she says with a sigh. You do as
she instructs, burying your hands into his warm fur.
It’s a strange, curly texture, and he smells quite strongly, so you try
not to breathe too deeply as you use all your strength to lift. The
creature gets the hint and uses the added force the two of you are
exerting to get back to his feet and continue to trundle onwards,
huffing loudly through his glistening black nostrils. The woman pats
him on the flank pleasantly.
“Thank you – he’s not the young stud he used to be, are you,
Hamish?”
The animal snorts. You’re not sure if it’s in response to the name or
just by coincidence. Either way, the woman laughs.
“I hope he finishes the journey. He deserves to have some peace and
quiet at the end of all this,” she tells you wistfully. She clearly
seems quite attached to this animal, both as a worker and as a pet.

“He seems... determined?” you say, trying to ignore the fact he’s just
left a big steaming pile in his wake.
“Yeah. Like all of us, really,” she sighs. Then she takes a moment to
properly take you in, her brow furrowing.
“I’ve not seen you before, have I?”
“No, you haven’t” – Turn to 8.10.
“Yes, you have...” – Turn to 8.11.
8.8
As you walk, you begin to chat with the people around you.
The fact that they’re on the road seems to have put everyone in a
better mood and people talk openly. You get into a conversation
with a family, two women and the children they’re raising together.
The eldest is nine and the youngest is just a baby that one of the
women has strapped to her chest. You find out they both lost people
close to them during the last raid and are glad to be moving, even
though the journey is going to be long and tiring.
“We look after the children whose parents have… been lost,”
says the woman with the baby. “We’re happy to do it. We can’t have
children of our own, after all.”
“That’s a very noble thing to do,” you say, and the woman laughs.
“‘Noble’, eh? I don’t think so. Just human, love. We’ve got to look
after each other.” She looks over at her wife who’s wiping something
off the middle child’s face and smiles fondly. It’s a heart-warming
show of love in this cold world.
“So, what about you?” she asks, rocking the stirring infant on her
chest. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around the ship, have I?”
“No, I’m a traveller” – Turn to 8.10.
“I’m from the ship!” – Turn to 8.11.
8.9
You stay quiet and focused. None of the group seems
particularly interested in talking to you, and you don’t give the vibe
that you’re open to conversations either. Instead, you tighten your
pack on your back and keep trudging onwards, keeping up with the
slow pace of the rest of the group, listening to them speak of what
lies in store for them: perhaps they’ll cross the bridge to the city, or
trade with one of the scavenger camps near here. You take note of
these as places of interest – if this migrating group knows of them,
maybe your group went there too?
The day passes slowly as you’re left alone to your thoughts. You
think about your journey here, where you came over the waves to
explore this land, never thinking you’d end up in a situation like this.
In fact, if you’d told yourself this whole story just three months ago,
you’d have laughed in your face.
How time changes.
The group begins to slow down for the night and you decide to make
camp as well. They stop in a copse of trees and hide away from the
world as much as they can, trying to make sure no part of them is
left vulnerable to attack.
Turn to 8.12.
8.10
“I’m from over the sea. I came here on a boat and got
separated from my expedition. I’m looking for them now, actually.”
“Wait, what? What happened?”
The woman listens with interest, captivated, as you tell her the story
of your journey here. Soon you’ve gathered a small crowd to hear
you, those who have caught snippets and are being drawn into the
whole tale. Every now and then you’ll be interrupted by a curious
villager asking a question which you’ll answer as best you can.
“What was your camp like?”
“Er, pretty similar to yours? Just, not on a ship?”
And then you dive straight back on. It’s nice to have this sort of
attention. You feel appreciated, and it’s strange – it’s like, despite
everything you’ve been through so far, at the very least it makes for
an interesting story. You’re not quite sure if it’s worth all the
suffering and being alone on this strange land, but at least it’s
something.
Eventually, the group comes to a stop as the sun sets. You halt at a
copse of trees and the people begin to spread out into little camps
for the evening, erecting the tents they had on the ship. You set up
your own area a short distance away from them to try to keep out of
their way, but do take a bowl of food when it’s offered to you.
Turn to 8.13.
8.11
“No, no, I come from the ship, you might just not have seen me
around before!” you say, trying to convince her you belong here.
You’re worried what she’ll do if she finds out you’re an outsider. It’s
a line of questioning you don’t feel comfortable opening. The
woman’s eyes narrow and she doesn’t look like she completely
believes you but she doesn’t argue. She does let the conversation
end there, though, and goes back to what she was doing. You feel
like you can’t really continue it any further and fall into step quietly
with the rest of the group.
The day passes slowly as you’re left alone to your thoughts. You
think about your journey here, where you came over the waves to
explore this land, never thinking you’d end up in a situation like this.
In fact, if you’d told yourself this whole story just three months ago,
you’d have laughed in your face.
How times change.
The group begins to slow down for the night and you decide to make
camp. They stop in a copse of trees and hide away from the
world as much as they can, trying to make sure no part of them is

left vulnerable to attack.
Turn to 8.12.
8.12
You retire into your tent as the sun sets and fall onto your bedroll.
The day’s walk has really taken it out of you – you might not have
covered as much ground as you would on your own, being stuck
with the pace of two hundred other feet, but you weren’t at the
mercy of your own schedule to take breaks. You stick your fingers
into your thighs and try to massage the muscle there, kneading it to
stop the aching. In the end, you give up and shut your eyes, listening
to the sounds of the campground until you drift off.
You wake the next morning to silence, which is never an
encouraging sound – worriedly, you stick your head out of the tent’s
opening and look around.
They’re gone.
The party moved on without you.
The only things that suggests they were ever here at all are a couple
of burned-out fires which appears to have been kicked apart.
You were so tired you didn’t even hear them move on.
You feel a bit sad that nobody even offered you a goodbye. The wind
blows through your hair and takes a few leaves with it. You try to
remind yourself they didn’t owe you anything… but you still feel a
bit bitter as you collect your belongings and head off.
END.
Add The Bridge (Chapter 11, L.11) and The Scavenger Village
(Chapter 9, L.9) to map.
8.13
You crawl into your tent, exhausted from the day’s travelling.
You might not have covered as much ground as you would have on
your own, being stuck with the pace of two hundred other feet, but
you weren’t at the mercy of your own schedule to take breaks. You
stick your fingers into your thighs and try to massage the muscle
there, kneading it to stop the aching. In the end, you give up and shut
your eyes, listening to the sounds of talking outside – a family is
discussing where they’ll end up next, whether they’ll cross the
bridge to the city, or trade with one of the scavenger camps near
here. You drift off before you can hear the end of their musings.
The morning’s light filters in through the fabric of your tent and you
blink yourself awake. You feel well rested, but suddenly worried
– you’ve awoken to silence.
You sit up from your bedroll and dart to the tent’s opening,
unzipping it and sticking your head out. The area around you is
empty. The group left without you.
You feel a bit sad before you notice a piece of paper left under a
rock. You slide it out carefully and see that someone has scribbled a
note for you in chicken-scratch writing. The note is ended with a
little symbol, one which transcends language.
:)
You smile at the little face on the paper. It’s nice to know that they
thought of you before they headed off. That there’s still kindness in
this strange, old world. You hold the note to your heart for a
moment, before you gather your things and head off back into the
world.
END.
Add Smiley Face (F.12) to your notebook.
Add The Bridge (Chapter 11, L.11) and The Scavenger Village
Turn to 8.14, Needs Old World Language.
8.14
You scan the note one more time before tucking it into your pocket.
The writing is poor but, with a lot of concentration, you can read it.
We had to leave early. Sorry we left you. We think we are going a
different way than you will, but we hope you find your friends. May
the wind be with you :)
It’s a nice sentiment. One you will carry with you into the world.
May the wind be with you.
END.
CHAPTER 9
THE SCAVENGER VILLAGE
9.1
This place was probably once a town, maybe even a city.
Definitely bigger than the vault you grew up in. You scout the area
for any signs of trouble but it’s difficult to see – the buildings are
only ruins now, and they rise up from the ground in craggy, broken
shards. At least the rubble on the street has been somewhat cleared,
shoved aside to make dusty paths. You can see heavy bootprints and
cart tracks pressed into the dirt, giving away clear signs of life.
You were told this was where the scavengers lived. You hope that
they won’t be hostile, but understand that you’re only here for trade
and conversation. It’s best to keep your wits about you anyway, just
in case things go awry. You can never tell in this strange land.
The further you walk, the more you become aware of the sounds of
human activity – and loud activity, at that. It sounds like they’re
doing some sort of building work. You pick your way through the
discarded slabs and approach as quietly as you can. In one of the
more put-together ruins, three people are concentrating on their
work. One of them has a sledgehammer and slams it into the inner
wall of the old building. The other two are pulling copper wire from
the wreckage, straining to free it from the rubble. All of them are
covered in brick dust and sweat. Their clothes are different to those
you’ve seen so far – they seem to favour clothes from the old world,
rather than animal furs and skins, wearing heavy coats and overalls
that have seen better days.
They don’t seem to notice you, too caught up in their work.
Speak to them – Turn to 9.2.
Ignore them and keep walking – Turn to 9.3.
Inspect the wiring – Turn to 9.4, Needs Engineering.
9.2
You call out and one of them jumps, clearly not expecting to hear a
voice. All three of them turn towards you. They don’t seem like
they’re going to attack you, but they don’t look happy that you’re
there. The one holding the sledgehammer yanks a mask down to
reveal the face of a middle-aged woman, lined with experience and
hardship. She puts her tool down and leans against it expectantly.
“What are you doing?” you ask, trying to build some sort of rapport
with them.
“Harvesting copper. What’s it look like?” spits the woman. The other
two nod in agreement. Perhaps this was a bad idea.
“Who’s in charge here?” you ask. Your voice squeaks out pitifully,
the opposite of her strong and sure words.
“Up the road,” she says, cocking her head along one of the paths.
Clearly, this is where the conversation ends. She picks the hammer
up and slams it into the wall, spewing a fine layer of dust out into the
air.
You gather yourself as much as you can and head to where she
pointed.
Turn to 9.3.
9.3
You walk past the group and down the road. Slowly, it begins to turn
from dirt to tarmac under your feet. It’s melted in places – almost
certainly from when the bombs dropped in the war. You keep your
footing as best you can as you navigate along the ruins, but don’t feel
particularly sure of yourself.
There’s a thin trail of smoke rising up into the air in the distance.
You guess this is where the woman was directing you. Like a beacon,
you follow it deeper into the wreckage.
After about ten minutes of careful navigation, you come to what
looks to be a makeshift camp. A collection of four tents encircles a
large fire, chugging its heat into the space around it. There are six
people, all dressed similarly to those working on the ruin back up
the road. One of them, a younger man, sits to the side, stripping the
skin off of an animal carcass. You have no idea what species it is and
don’t want to ask. The others are surrounding the fire, where they
have the barrel of an old cement mixer held aloft. Some of them are
feeding copper wiring into the mouth, and one of them is stirring the
mixture. The smell of melting metal is acrid and you wrinkle your
nose at the stink.
Ask to speak to the leader – Turn to 9.5.
Watch the metal smelting – Turn to 9.6, Needs Engineering OR
Chemistry.
Show your badge from the New World to them – Turn to 9.7.
9.4
The scavengers have a coil of wire laid to the side of their work area,
the younger two adding to it as they pull it free from the wall. You
walk over and squat down next to it. It feels strange and cold in your
hand when you pick a piece up to inspect it.
It’s not dissimilar to what was used back in the vault. The copper is
coated in plastic insulation and was probably once used for
electrical wiring – but at this age, after the war, it’s going to be
useless, mostly worn through or corroded. You wonder what the
scavengers are doing with it.
At that moment, you hear a shout and look up – they’ve noticed you.
One of the gatherers is starting towards you and reaching for a knife
at his belt. You fall backwards in surprise but raise your arms to
show that you don’t mean any trouble.
“Gerroff,” he shouts, snatching the wiring out of your hand.
“Leave ’em alone, Phil. If you’re lookin’ for work, go up the road.”
The latter half of this is clearly directed at you, and the woman with
the sledgehammer points to one of the dirt tracks. You scramble to
your feet and follow the path.
Add Altercation with Phil (E.5) to your character sheet.

Turn to 9.3.
9.5
Your voice comes out as strong and sure as you can make it, but it
doesn’t quell the feeling of worry you feel when all of the scavengers
turn to look at you at once. They scowl and a man stands up from
where he was stoking the fire. His face is a ruddy red from the heat
and his beard is covered in flecks of ash – a couple appear to still be
smouldering. It gives him the appearance of some sort of fire demon,
and you can understand why he’s the leader. Nobody would want to
fight him.
He takes you in for a moment and a look of recognition crosses his
face. Your uniform is easily identifiable to those who have seen it
before, after all. His nostrils flare like a great bull.
“Whaddya want?” he asks, his voice gruff and loud, the sort of voice
that leaves no room for trying to mess the speaker around.
“What are you doing here?” – Turn to 9.8.
“I’m looking for my team” – Turn to 9.9.
9.6
You take a moment to observe the work going on before you.
The copper is fed into the improvised smelting pot and melted down
to liquid. You look around and see more of the copper is sitting in
clay crucibles, cooling into ingots. One of the scavengers is turning
out the hardened metal into a bucket of water, making a satisfying
hissing sound as the steam rises. It’s difficult to tell precisely what
it’s being repurposed into. They might be pipes of some kind? It
doesn’t look like the scavengers have the tools to process the end
products so they may be making them for a third party.
You’ve been so caught up in the scavengers’ work, you were totally
oblivious to the fact that one of them had noticed you. A woman
walks over from the pot and stands in front of you with her arms
crossed and a look of disdain on her face.
“What are you making these for?” you ask, curiosity getting the
better of you. She gestures to the east.
“Some bastard across the bridge. Now piss off,” she says in no
uncertain terms before going back to work. A couple of other
scavengers glance up, but you’re clearly not interesting enough to
stop working for. You keep watching for a moment longer before
leaving them to their own devices.
END.
Add The Bridge (Chapter 11, L.11) and Return to the Scavenger
Village (Chapter 10, L.10) to map.
9.7
You walk up to the small group and hold out your badge.
Eventually, they realise that you’re there and begin to slow down in
their work before ceasing altogether to inspect your identification.
One of them gives a shout to the only man still working.
He stands up from where he was stoking the fire, his face a ruddy
red from the heat and his beard covered in flecks of ash – a couple
appear to still be smouldering. It gives him the appearance of some
sort of fire demon and you can understand why he’s the leader.
Nobody would want to fight him.
He takes you in for a moment and a look of recognition crosses his
face. Your badge and uniform are easily identifiable to those who
have seen it before, after all. His nostrils flare like a great bull.
“Whaddya want?” he asks, his voice gruff and loud, the sort of voice
that leaves no room for argument.
“I want help,” you say honestly, and a smile that’s closer to a sneer
crosses his face.
“Oh, aye? It’ll cost ya,” he laughs.
Offer him medicine – Turn to 9.10, Needs Morphine.
Offer him food – Turn to 9.11, Needs Survival.
Offer to help – Turn to 9.14.
Threaten him – Turn to 9.12, Needs Hand-to-Hand Combat.
Remain quiet under his gaze – Turn to 9.13.
9.8
“Workin’ for a warlord. I dunno his name. We ain’t
never met before,” he states. His voice is still gravelly and short, but
you get the sense he doesn’t
object to explaining to you what he’s doing. He clearly takes pride in
the work.
“A warlord?” you parrot, and he nods.
“Yeah. Don’t like to get too involved with ’em but they pay, eh?
We take the goods to the bridge and his men pick ’em up from there.
Now unless you’re gonna buck up and help out, be on yer way,
outsider,” he goes back to stoking the fire. You’re reluctant to get
any further involved with them but do make a note of where he
pointed when he spoke of the bridge. If a lot of trade happens there,
there’s a chance your group headed that way. You leave the
scavengers to their work and head back to the ruins.
END.
9.9
“Yer group?” he asks, a look of disdain on his face. “Aye, we saw
’em.” For a moment your excitement rises, but
it’s quickly extinguished when he tells you, “About a month back. We
were travellin’ by and stopped to ask if they wanted any trade. That
bitch one, the girl with the pinched face, told us they weren’t
interested.”
You think back to the camp and decide he’s probably talking about
Mari. You find yourself smiling at the idea of them interacting.
“If they moved, they pro’ly went to the city. East. You won’t get there
from ’ere though. Only crossing point for miles is the bridge.”
He points in the general direction of where he means before he gets
back to work. You thank him for his help and start to pick your way
back through the wreckage of the town, a renewed hope blooming in
your chest that you might have found a clue at long last.
END.
9.10
“Ihave medicine,” you say, reaching into your pack and pulling out
your first aid kit. He watches carefully as you rummage around in it
and pull out some of your bandages and the vials of morphine. He
takes them both roughly from you and observes them, before
throwing the vials in the fire and pocketing the bandages.
“It’ll do,” he sniffs, and you watch with horror as the plastic bottles
melt into nothing under the strength of the heat. You wonder if he
knew what he threw away.
You pass it to him reluctantly, and he scribbles something on it with
a piece of charcoal. When he hands it back you see that there are
directions on how to get to a bridge, and on from that to a city.
You leave without looking back and hear laughter behind you.
You decide you don’t like scavengers.
END.
Remove Morphine from your inventory.
9.11
“Ihave food,” you say, bringing out a small pouch from the side of
your bag and presenting it to him. The man takes it from you with a
calloused hand and looks at the contents –
berries you scavenged - before roaring with laughter.
“These’ll make you shit like no man’s business, outsider. You’re
either tryin’ t’ poison yourself or me.”
He notices the look of horror on your face and laughs again,
throwing the bag into the fire.
“You got a map?” His face is now full of pity.
You dutifully pass it to him and he scribbles something on there
with a piece of charcoal. When he hands it back you see that there
are directions on how to get to a bridge, and on from that to a city.
END.
Add DO NOT EAT (F.15) to Berries (F.14) in your notebook.
9.12
Your movements are quick enough to surprise him. You grab one of
his strong hands and take advantage of his size to pull him over and
into a headlock. He lets out a gasp and you begin to pull his head
closer and closer to the burning white metal of the improvised
smelter.
“Stop!” screams one of the scavengers. “Stop! You’ve got to go to the
bridge, it’s a few miles east! Just leave him alone!”
You look over to where the voice came from and see a look of horror
on the scavenger’s face. She looks like she’s related to the leader.
“Please,” she begs, “I’m telling the truth.”
You throw the man down, not caring if he hits the fire, before
turning on your heel and leaving. You hear a commotion behind you
from the scavengers and feel a sense of superiority.
END.
9.13
“What? Are you deaf or somethin’?” he asks. You want
to reply but you’re scared, too scared. This man looks like he could
break you with one hand. If you
say the wrong thing, he might take offence and prove just how
fragile you are.
He snorts and rolls his eyes.
You scrabble in your pack and pass it to him. He scribbles something
on there with a piece of charcoal. When he hands it back, you see
that there are directions on how to get to a bridge, and on from that
to a city.
END.
9.14
“Do you need any help?” you ask. He goes to laugh but
thinks better of it, looking at you up and down once again.
“You won’t get paid.”
“I just want help in return,” you confess.
He sniffs. “All right. Help Tom fill the crucibles.”
You spend the rest of the day doing demanding physical labour.
The metal is hot and heavy, and hard to pour, but the scavengers are
nothing if not experts. Before you know it, all the copper in the
smelter is gone and dozens more moulds have been filled. It’s hard,
but it’s also satisfying to be doing work that means something again.
Evening is drawing in by the time you’ve finished. The leader shakes
your hand and you feel like he means it.
“You got a map?” he asks.
You dutifully pass it to him and he scribbles something on there
with a piece of charcoal. When he hands it back, you see that there
are directions on how to get to a bridge, and on from that to a city.
“This is where you’ll want to look if you’re after people. All sorts of
folks crossin’ the bridge. Maybe yours too.”
They offer you a place to stay for the night, but you want to start
moving with what little sunlight is left. The sooner you get to the
bridge, the sooner you catch up to your group. You bid them
goodbye and head into the setting sun.
END.
Add Crucible Tom (E.6) to your character sheet.
CHAPTER 10
RETURN TO THE SCAVENGER VILLAGE
10.1
Honestly, it’s hard to tell there were ever people here at all. If you
hadn’t seen the previous campsite yourself, this would look like any
of the other ruins – desolate, crumbling, empty. You double-check on
your map to make sure you’re even in the right place at all and find
that yes, the scavengers you met before were here… but who knows
where they’ve gone now. The only sign they were ever here are the
scorch marks left by the smelting furnace and even those will only
pop out from the greys and browns of the street if you know to look
for them.
It feels eerie to be out here by yourself. Without the hubbub of the
rag-tag group there’s almost a sense of foreboding in the air – like
it’s quiet, too quiet, and something is about to snap.
You try to shake the thought from your head. You’re just being
paranoid. It’s a shame the scavengers aren’t here, but there’s also no
point dwelling on it – it might still be worth investigating the area to
see if there’s a chance that they left anything behind, though.
Explore the houses – Turn to 10.2.
Look closer at the camp remains – Turn to 10.3.
10.2
You step into one of the crumbling ruins of what was once probably
a nice-looking townhouse. It seemed to have had two storeys, you
can see where the stairs collapsed in on themselves, but by now
everything has fallen down onto the first floor. It’s a shame; if it was
still standing, it probably would have been quite a nice-looking
place.
Inspecting the ruins further, you see that what’s left of the walls
have been prised open messily, and the cavities inside are empty –
your mind jumps back to the woman with her sledgehammer and
her two accomplices stripping the building of its copper. You
explore a couple more ruined houses and find them in much the
same state as the first. It seems the scavengers were very thorough
in their search, leaving no stone unturned, picking each shamble
clean, like carrion birds on an animal corpse. Waste not want not,
you suppose; it’s not like anyone else was getting any use out of the
old wiring. In a way it’s nice to know it’s being repurposed into
something useful for the people who are still alive.
The sound of something crumbling makes you jump and look to the
street. Is someone out there? Or is it your fear getting the better of
you?
Hide – Turn to 10.4.

Investigate – Turn to 10.5.
Confront – Turn to 10.6.
10.3
You spend some time looking closer and realise there are more
remains than you first thought. You see a couple of discarded copper
pipes which have been thrown off into the debris of a collapsed
house, ones which were bent out of shape just enough to make them
unsellable. It seems a shame they couldn’t just melt them down and
try again, but it did look like they were working to a schedule. It
appears they simply didn’t have time.
There are some bootprints, too, almost completely gone from the
effects of the wind. Heavy treads are stamped into the ground and
point at which way they were heading to. Following the trail with
your eyes, you can see they were likely heading towards the only
other visible landmark you can spy – the bridge, sitting snugly over
a river some distance away.
Collect the pipes – Turn to 10.7.
Survey the area – Turn to 10.8.
10.4
It might only be your imagination, but you don’t want to test that
theory and be proved wrong. Instead, you tuck yourself into the
collapsed staircase of this building, contorting your body in order to
hide in the gap that’s been left by the debris. You keep your ears
pricked and breathing shallow in order to hear any little sound that
might be coming from outside.
Time passes.
Nothing happens.
After a good ten minutes of silence, you decide it’s safe to come out,
placing your feet as lightly on the crumbled concrete as you can in
order not to draw too much attention to yourself. Unwilling to use
the main door of the building – or where you think the main door
used to be, judging by the bits of frame that still stand valiantly
despite the fallen wall – you make your way to a smashed-through
window and carefully navigate your way through it and back to the
outside.
Your pace is quick and you don’t glance over your shoulder.
Whatever was behind you has been left behind. Instead you hurry
towards the only landmark you can see; the bridge that sits snugly
over a river some distance away. Hopefully being around people will
make you feel… safer.
END.
10.5
Carefully, you observe what’s happening outside the building,
making sure to keep your body tucked away behind the remnants of
a wall. You flatten yourself to the stonework and peep your head out
round the side.
There’s someone there. Judging by what you can see, they look like a
raider. Their shirt is off and they have a heavy machete swinging on
their hip. Their face is set in an angry growl and on the wind you can
pick up angry curse words falling from their lips, only multiplied
when they kick a rock angrily. It makes you jump, but not enough to
give away your hiding spot.
Confront them – Turn to 10.12.
Sneak away – Turn to 10.9.
10.6
You walk out onto the street and look around, and are
surprised when you come almost face to face with another person.
Judging by their look, they seem to be some sort of raider. Their
shirt is off and they have a heavy machete swinging on their hip.
Their face is set in an angry growl, and you can pick up angry curse
words falling from their lips, but that quickly falls to owlish surprise
when you pop right up in their path.
Turn to 10.12.
10.7
You pick your way through the mountains of discarded
concrete and stoneware over to the discarded pipes.
They’re heavy in your hand and you wonder if there’s really any
point in taking them… and then you hear a noise.
You turn and see someone walking through the debris of the camp.
It isn’t one of the scavengers. In fact, seeing how they’re dressed –
no shirt, machete at their hip – you know enough to know they’re a
raider. When they look at you, their eyebrows raise in surprise.
Turn to 10.12.
10.8
You scan the area, just to see if there’s anything that you’ve missed.
No, it looks like you took in the lie of the land the first time… just
houses, fallen into disrepair, and the bridge on the horizon. You’re
about to take out your map and plan how long it would take to get
there when you hear a noise.
You spin on your heel and come face to face with another person.
You can’t stop your eyebrows shooting upwards in surprise.
This is the last thing you expected. And, more worryingly, judging
by their appearance, they’re a raider. They don’t wear a shirt, but
their torso is covered in scars, and a machete hangs at their hip.
They look just as surprised to see you.
Turn to 10.12.
10.9
Raiders mean trouble. Whatever they’re here for, you don’t want to
know.
You place your feet on the floor as lightly as you can, heading for a
hole in the wall – thanking whoever’s listening that the house
collapsed into such a helpful position. You contort your body to get
through the gap and stick to the edges of the house, carefully making
your way out of view of the raider before heading off out of the
camp.
You steal a couple of glances over your shoulder, but it seems you
got away scot-free. You hurry onwards, glad to have averted that
possible crisis, and instead look towards the horizon – to where you
see a bridge in the distance planted over a river. That seems like
your next step.
END.
10.10
Araider is still a raider. If you let them go, there’s no telling what
might happen. They might change their mind and kill you, or at the
very least rob you.
You can’t chance it.
Your hand slowly reaches out and grabs a melon-sized chunk of
concrete. The raider’s eyes light up, knowing what is about to
happen but powerless to stop it – and before they can say anything
else, you bring the makeshift weapon down onto their skull.
There’s a sickening crack. Blood flows freely from the wound and
bubbles up from their mouth where you knocked a few teeth out.
Their body spasms beneath you, but you hold firm, raising the
concrete above your head and slamming it back down. This one does
the trick, the first blow already having weakened the raider’s skull,
and they go still. The red trickles out a little further before the stilled
heart makes it sputter and stop.
You stand up, drop the rock, and wipe your hands on your coat.
The raider base, hm? You look at the letter and see there are
coordinates, but to get to where you’re being summoned firstly
you’ll need to cross the bridge. Probably best to head there next.
You walk towards the horizon. You don’t look back.
END.
Add Dagger’s Letter (O.16) to your inventory.
Add The Bridge (Chapter 11, L.11) and The Base/The Offer
Go to The Bridge (Chapter 11).
10.11
You get up off of the raider and offer them your hand. They clasp it
and let you help them to their feet.
“Ta,” they say, dusting themselves off. “You better get over there
sharpish, I reckon she’s waiting on you.”
“I’ll get there when I get there,” you say, your mind not made up if
you’re even going to go yet. The raider shrugs.
“Your funeral. Boss ain’t a patient woman.”
“Right,” you say, as the raider saunters off in the opposite direction.
Maybe they have some other business to attend to, or maybe they’re
just odd. Either way, they whistle a jaunty little tune as they go
about their business. You look at the letter and see there are
coordinates, but to get to where you’re being summoned, firstly
you’ll need to cross the bridge. Probably best to head there next.
END.
Add Dagger’s Letter (O.16) to your inventory.
Add The Bridge (Chapter 11, L.11) and The Base/The Offer
Go to The Bridge (Chapter 11).
10.12
They’re dangerous, you’ve been in this land long enough to know
that. You jump at them, knowing that disarming them is the
smartest move. The raider doesn’t seem to expect you to attack, so
you have the element of surprise.
They yelp as your bodies make contact and you fall to the floor.
You hear the air being pushed out of their lungs as their back hits
the litter-covered ground, hard. With them winded, you take
advantage of the moment to try to whip their machete off of their
belt, but it gets stuck, the awkward angle locking it in place instead.
You struggle for a moment as the raider gets their breath back,
tussling wildly beneath you, before they seem to realise something.
They put their hands up as if to say they don’t want to fight.
“Calm down, fuck’s sake. You’re the traveller, yeah?”
Your brow furrows. You keep a tight grip on the weapon, but find
yourself nodding.
“The boss has a letter for ya. Apparently, you’ve been makin’ a bit of
a splash round here and she wants to do some sorta deal?
Look… get off me, fukinnell…”
The raider tries to rummage in their pocket, but your knee on their
waist is restricting access. Reluctantly, you move just enough
so that they can fish something out and shove it into your hands.
They’re right. It is a letter, and written in your language. It’s
detailing a point on your map and then asking you to ‘come for a
chat’.
Any smart person would be wary of a raider boss asking you to
come and give them a personal visit. You look down at the raider
beneath you, who seems somewhat resigned to lying on the ground.
At least they aren’t attacking you, you think… well, for now, anyway.
Who knows what they’ll do if you move?
Kill them – Turn to 10.10.
Let them go – Turn to 10.11.
CHAPTER 11
THE BRIDGE
11.1
As you crest the hill, you understand why you’ve been
pointed here.
The bridge is vast. It’s almost the equivalent of the ship in its man-
made scale. The valleys here are deep cut into the land and cause
small mountains around them, and the bridge needed to be big
enough to conquer the nature around it. It’s a great effort to get here
and you can only imagine the toll it takes on those people whose
lives revolve around it.
The bridge itself is old and rusting, like all the metal you’ve seen in
this place. In spite of this, it still stands sturdy and shows no sign of
giving out. It sits burrowed into the ground and is the only crossing
point you’ve seen for the large, silver river that slices through the
land beneath it.
It’s definitely one of the busiest places you’ve seen so far; a few
dozen travellers are flocking from all directions in order to cross.
However, before they’re allowed access, they’re stopped at a
checkpoint to have their goods inspected, the guards rifling through
their carts and bags.
The system seems to be quite elaborate. In the distance, you can see
the remains of a city on the skyline – this must be why the bridge
is guarded.
Wait and watch the bridge – Turn to 11.2.
Scope the bridge – Turn to 11.3, Needs Sharpshooter.
Approach the bridge – Turn to 11.4.
11.2
The activity on the bridge remains much the same. More travellers
come, more bags are checked, more people are let across to the city
side. Occasionally, there’s a scuffle between those trying to cross and
the guards – it doesn’t look like everyone takes having their goods
inspected kindly.
A couple of times things are confiscated. Perhaps there are
restricted goods, or perhaps the guards just decided that they want
to keep some of the more expensive items. The only way to tell is to
go down and inspect further. You do need to get across the bridge
anyway – if your group is in the city, this is the only way over the
river.
Turn to 11.4.
11.3
You bring your gun out and peer down the scope at the
bridge, scanning the area. Even though you’re far away, you go as
carefully as you can, not wanting to bring attention to yourself
through the sun glinting off the scope’s glass.
You can see what’s happening better from here. There’s a makeshift
barrier that’s been laid over the mouth of the bridge, forcing the
travellers into a narrow passage. It’s flanked by two guards with
ancient firearms who are rummaging through the goods as the
people come through single file.
High above them, you spot another guard – she’s nestled in the old
worn cables of the bridge with her own rifle tucked under her chin.
She keeps a watchful eye on the proceedings beneath her, but seems
to have no desire to start firing on anyone. She’s probably there as a
deterrent more than anything. None of them seem to be a particular
threat to you, should you choose to try and cross.
Open fire on the guards – Turn to 11.5.
Cross the bridge – Turn to 11.4.
11.4
You weave your way through the crowd of bustling travellers and
get to the front of the line. Everyone seems so involved in organising
their own goods for inspection that they barely notice you pushing
past. You only have to wait a moment before you’re up in front of the
pair of guards, an older man and a younger one. They have their
weapons slung in front of them and carry themselves like they’re
not quite sure what to do with them. They don’t wear uniforms as
such, but do have badges pinned to their fronts that depict a pair of
crossed rifles.
They signal for you to stop and give you a once over. You think
they’re going to let you cross without incident, when suddenly the
eldest one spots something on your chest. He moves closer and you
remember you still have your insignia on show, the one thing that
obviously betrays you as an outsider.
He purses his lips and hums, before beckoning his partner a few feet
away to talk to him quietly. You can’t hear what they’re saying from
here and nerves begin to mount in your stomach.
Explain your situation – Turn to 11.6.
Attempt to fight your way through – Turn to 11.7, Needs Hand-to-
Hand Combat.
Inspect the bridge – Turn to 11.8, Needs Knowledge OR
Engineering.
Wait for them to come back – Turn to 11.9.
11.5
You cock your gun and fire straight at the guard in the crow’s nest.
The bullet pierces her chest and you see the red blooming on her
shirt. She falls, limp, and tumbles out of her vantage point, arcing
downwards and spraying blood as she goes – she hits one of the
thick wires holding up the bridge and falls into the water beneath.
The other guards take notice immediately and begin to panic,
bringing their guns into their hands. You hear the distant screams of
the travellers as they duck down onto the ground. This only helps to
clear a line – you fire two more shots, one for each of the remaining
guards. They go down heavily as the people try to work out what is
going on.
Move across the bridge – Turn to 11.10.
Wait in your vantage point – Turn to 11.11.
Inspect the bridge – Turn to 11.12.
11.6
“Idon’t want to cause any fuss. I’m just trying to get into the city,”
you say honestly. The eldest guard doesn’t seem too impressed but
clearly doesn’t want to start a fight if there’s no need for one.
“Who sent you here, outsider?” he asks, fingering the gun at his
front, just to remind you it’s there.
“The village on the ship.” – Turn to 11.13, Needs Ship’s Token.
“I’m looking for my people.” – Turn to 11.14.
“Nobody sent me.” – Turn to 11.15.
11.7
You dart forward and take the youngest one off guard. You pull him
to the ground, swinging round to kick the other man as you do so.
They both thump heavily to the metal beneath you, and you see
blood flecking the rust.
There’s a shot and a bullet ricochets off the ground next to you.
The other travellers in the queue start to panic, letting out screams
of terror, and you glance up – there’s a guard in a sniper’s nest with
her rifle aimed at you, and she’s reloading.
Run across the bridge – Turn to 11.16.
Take a guard hostage – Turn to 11.17.
11.8
You try to calm your nerves by taking in your surroundings.
You cast your mind back to your studies of the Old World and the
transport they used to get across the land. Judging by its structure, it
looks like this is a suspension bridge. It’s made almost entirely from
steel and must be over two hundred years old.
It’s quite a feat, to be honest. You imagine people in the Old World
working, collaborating at a scale unseen now, with incredible
machines. You wish you could have seen it. It’s amazing that the
thing is still standing, still in use today. You’re sure the builders at
the time of construction would have had no idea of what was to
come.
You feel a pang of pity in your chest.
The guards approach you again, and the oldest one gestures for you
to take off your pack. You do so, and the younger man begins to
scout through it.
“Oi, what’s this?” he asks.
“Chemistry” – Turn to 11.18, Needs Chemistry.
“A first aid kit” – Turn to 11.19, Needs Medicine.
“My ammunition” – Turn to 11.20, Needs Sharpshooter.
“Things I’ve foraged” – Turn to 11.21, Needs Survival.
11.9
You tangle your fingers in knots as the men have their conversation,
which seems to involve a lot of whispering followed by long pauses
while they look back at you. You hope they let you cross. If your
party came this way, surely one person can’t be more dangerous
than a whole group of outsiders?
After a long while, they walk back to you. The oldest one gestures for
you to take off your pack. You do so and the younger man begins to
scout through it.
“Oi, what’s this?” he asks.
“Chemistry tools” – Turn to 11.18, Needs Chemistry.
“A first aid kit” – Turn to 11.19, Needs Medicine.
“My ammunition” – Turn to 11.20, Needs Sharpshooter.
“Things I’ve foraged” – Turn to 11.21, Needs Survival.
11.10
Chaos is a wonderful thing to take advantage of.
People are screaming and panicking as you pick your way through
them to where the guarded barrier used to be.
A couple of people have decided to take advantage of the situation –
no guards mean no blockade. In small groups, travellers sprint
across the bridge before anyone can come and rectify the situation.
Keeping your gun firmly on your back, you follow them, blending in
with the crowd. Nobody has any idea it was you who caused this,
and you’re happy to keep it that way. You stop only to grab a handful
of bullets that one of the guards dropped as they went down.
You try not to slide on a pool of blood as you make your way across,
but apart from that, the journey is easy. You slow your pace and
begin a leisurely walk towards the city.
END.
Add The City Centre (Chapter 13, L.13), The Cult (S.2, L.S2), and
The Windmill (Chapter 23, L.23) to map.
11.11
You stay as still as you can, watching the scene through your scope.
The panic continues for a while before it eventually dies down. It
doesn’t look like there are any other guards coming to replace the
ones you dispatched, and people are beginning to take advantage of
the lull in security – pulling apart the barriers that once slowed their
progress so they may get across the bridge as fast as they can.
It takes you a few minutes to get down to the crossing point, but
from there it’s easy to blend in with people. Keeping your gun firmly
on your back, you follow the crowd. Nobody has any idea it was you
who caused this, and you’re happy to keep it that way. You stop only
to grab a handful of bullets that one of the guards dropped as they
went down.
You try not to slide on a pool of blood as you make your way across,
but apart from that, the journey is easy. You feel smug as you slow
your pace and begin a leisurely walk towards the city.
END.
11.12
You push through the panicking crowd and onto the bridge.
You don’t try to draw attention to yourself but you don’t exactly try
to stop people noticing your gun either. It’s easy enough to move
along with the people who are taking advantage of the situation,
sneaking through the barrier while there’s nobody there to stop
them.
On your way, you stop at the bodies of the guards. You roll the
scrawnier of the two over with your boot, trying not to get too much
blood on you. There’s a gaping wound where his face once was and
it makes your nose wrinkle in disgust, not so much that you are
responsible for this, but that you actually have to look at it.
You take a moment to get on your knees and go through his pockets.
There doesn’t seem to be much of any importance on him –
there’s some tasty-looking rations in his pockets, clearly things that
he’d skimmed off of the goods coming in, and some crumpled notes
in his pocket. You also take a handful of extra bullets – just in case.
Read the notes – Turn to 11.22, Needs Old World Language.
Take the rations – Turn to 11.27.
Leave the body and move on – Turn to 11.23.
11.13
“Oh!” says the guard, a look of recognition flooding his face. “The
ship? You know old Morag?”
“Yes,” you say, not willing to go into detail about your time with the
village. Suddenly, he’s smiling, and you feel a weight being lifted
from your shoulders.
“All right then, off you go. Don’t be causing any trouble, eh?” he
laughs jovially, waving you through the barricade.
You don’t need to be told twice and cross the rest of the bridge
without issue, silently thanking whoever’s watching over you that
you went to the ship.
END.
11.14
The older guard snatches your pack from your back. He
searches through it aggressively while the other man does his best
not to lock eyes with you. Your equipment is thoroughly checked,
even though they don’t seem too interested in taking any of it away
from you.
At long last, your pack is shoved roughly back into your hands.
The guard snarls at you.
“Don’t come back this way, outsider,” he states, and doesn’t so much
wave you through as shove you past the barricade. You don’t need
telling twice and scurry over the bridge, not looking back at
whatever questioning stares the other travellers may be giving you.
END.
Remove all unexplored locations north of the river from the map.
11.15
“No one sent you?” parrots the guard, suspicion lacing his voice. “But
you’ve got the badge like one of the outsiders?”
You awkwardly tug at the sleeve of your coat, cursing yourself for
not hiding your badge.
“Yes, I am.” – Turn to 11.14.
“These clothes aren’t mine.” – Turn to 11.24.
11.16
You run as fast as your legs can take you. The slap of your boots on
metal echoes along the expanse of the bridge, loudly drawing
attention to your flight. The bridge is long and only seems to get
longer, extending out before you, a rusted path leading to the
promised land.
The adrenaline rushing through you is a familiar drug. It pumps
through your veins, fuelling every step. In response, your heart
thunders like the water-pumping machines back at the vault –
roaringly loud and commanding your hearing. You almost miss the
hissing sound that rushes past your ear.
It takes a moment for the pain to catch up with you, but when it does
it’s awful. It feels like someone’s stabbed you in the side of your
head – you reach a hand up to check and when you pull it back, your
fingers are covered in blood.
There’s another gunshot – because that’s what it is, you now realise
– and this one lands just shy of your feet. You force yourself to go
faster, even though both your legs and the side of your head are
burning.
A couple more shots ring out, but you’re far enough away by now to
avoid them. You don’t even have time to celebrate when you finish
crossing the bridge, instead your feet pound into the soft grass on
the other side of the river, and you keep going until you can’t hear
the sounds of people any longer.
With lungs fit to bursting, you stop at a tree, dry heaving and trying
to catch your breath. Doubled over, you see droplets of blood fall
onto the earth in front of you. You become aware of a warm wetness
on your face. Carefully, you reach up an exploratory finger and test
the wound.
Your ear has been shot through. It’s a white-hot pain when you
touch it that hurts so wildly you almost faint. You sigh and consider
your options.
Treat the wound yourself – Turn to 11.25, Needs Medicine.
Move on – Turn to 11.26.
Try to wipe the blood away – Turn to 11.28.
11.17
Grabbing the youngest guard you yank him up off the floor by his
collar. He makes a frightened, shrieking noise, but cooperates; you
can feel him shaking with fear as you pick up his gun and push the
barrel against his fleshy throat. You swing him around in front of
you as a shield and stare at the other guard, your wild eyes letting
him know not to try to trick you.
You step back, bringing your hostage with you as you go. His
movements are rigid and a stink comes off him – you’re quite sure
he’s pissed himself. You gesture at the other guard’s gun, silently
telling him to drop it. He looks conflicted for a moment before
unloading the bullets and gently lowering his weapon to the floor.
You shove the younger man to the floor as soon as his companion’s
weapon is out of reach. He lands with a heavy thud and a yelp, and
you break into a sprint. There are shouts after you but you pay them
no heed, instead concentrating on getting as far away from the
crowd as you can. The bridge seems to stretch out for miles beneath
you, but you push on, the fear of getting caught on your heels and
the adrenaline are brilliant running partners.
Eventually, you slow down. You must have covered a fair bit of land,
and when you turn, the bridge seems far in the distance. There
is solace in the fact that nobody is pursuing you; you allow yourself a
moment of peace before you go on towards the city.
END.
11.18
“Hmm,” says the older guard, and you feel he’s trying to feign
knowing what you’re showing him. He takes a vial from the rest and
brings it to his nose – he’s about to inhale it before you snatch it
back from him.
“That’s, erm, corrosive,” you say, not feeling comfortable letting him
know he almost just inhaled acid. The pungent smell leaks out from
the bottle and he wrinkles his nose at it.
“Erm, yes. Right. On you go,” he says, waving you through the
barricade.
You try to hide your surprise at the ease at which they let you
through. You don’t stop to question it, though; instead you count
your blessings and head towards the city.
END.
11.19
“Ah, a doctor?” asks the older guard as he cracks open your first aid
kit.
“Yes. A travelling one, but I know medicine.” Well. It isn’t a lie,
exactly.
“Always need more doctors in the city. You’re welcome here,” he
says with a warm smile which you find yourself returning. You’re
waved through the barricade with all of your belongings.
You thank your lucky stars that your first aid kit means you’re
allowed safe passage, and take your first steps towards the city.
END.
11.20
The older guard takes your gun from you and examines it.
You try to keep it clean, all things considered – always trying to put
a couple of minutes aside a night to polish it.
He lifts the rifle to his chin and cocks it, watching a live round fall to
his feet. The younger guard snatches it up with fascination and turns
it over in his hands, comparing the sleek machined brass casing to
his old, recycled rounds.
“Nice bit of kit,” says the eldest guard, passing it back to you.
“Thanks. It’s the nicest thing I own.” It is. The guard passes it back to
you, sans the round of ammo his companion has squirrelled away.
“All right, well, keep it safe in the city,” the guard tells you, and you
nod, slinging it back over your shoulder and keeping a tight-
knuckled grip on the strap. You don’t slacken it until you’re off the
bridge and on your way to the city.
END.
11.21
The guard doesn’t seem impressed as he goes through your
supplies. A few berries, some edible roots. It’s barely more than a
day’s rations. He tucks them back into your pack and hands it over.
“Well, at least you won’t need to forage in the city. Always a hot meal
for a hard day’s work,” he tells you with something akin to pity in his
voice as he waves you through. You don’t meet his eye as you scurry
away from the barricade, feeling a blush creep over you.
END.
11.22
The notes are scribbled, untidy, and difficult to read. It takes you a
moment to get used to the hand, but you manage to make it out
eventually.
They speak of a group of outsiders coming through here recently,
and to be on guard for any suspicious-looking characters who may
be following them. You don’t know if you count as suspicious or not,
but you do feel a smile crossing your face as you continue crossing
the bridge – you’re on the right track!
END.
11.23
It’s not worth stopping, you decide. Too much attention could be
drawn to you. Instead, you steel yourself and continue walking over
the bridge, which has descended into chaos as travellers realise
there is nobody to stop them – or check their goods. You wind up on
solid ground again with a crowd in tow, all of whom are completely
unaware of your role in this all.
END.
11.24
“You take ’em from someone?” he asks. There’s an
unsaid part to the question: did you take them violently?
“I found them,” you say. It’s a half truth. You found them... back in
the vault.
The guard takes your cuff in his hand and fingers the material.
“Nice bit of kit, this. Better be careful in the city. People’d do a lot to
get clothes this warm.”
You nod as the guard stares at you. Clearly, he knows that the whole
truth isn’t being told, but he waves you on anyway, not bothered
enough to hold up the line because of you.
Not needing to be told twice, you scurry onwards – but can’t stop
looking over your shoulder just in case.
END.
11.25
You have no mirror to check yourself with, so you paint a picture
with your fingers. Your ear has been shot through at the top. It
dangles uncomfortably and you feel that it’s probably mostly
detached from your head, not really an ear any more – just a
mangled scrap of useless flesh.
It’s best to fix it up. You can’t go around with a shot-off ear.
Turn to 11.29, Needs Morphine.
Turn to 11.30.
11.26
You tear off a strip from the bottom of your coat and wrap it around
your head. It stings something awful where it touches your ear –
now that you have time, you realise that it’s probably been mostly
shot off. You tie the rag in a tight knot around the back of your head
and hope that it heals on its own, or that you can find a doctor who
will take pity on you. At least the blood has stopped gushing, though
there is a large, telling stain on your coat that can’t be anything
other than blood.
You grit your teeth and head towards the city.
END.
11.27
You take the rations from the guard and tuck them in your pocket –
and, as far as dried food goes, these look quite tasty. They could be
useful in the future.
Add High Quality Rations (O.6) to your inventory.
Turn to 11.23.
11.28
Squatting down by the base of the tree, you pick up a handful of
fresh-looking leaves from the floor. Wincing at the pain, you wipe
away the blood from the side of your head as best you can before
carefully exploring the area with your fingers.
It feels like your ear has been shot off. It dangles uselessly towards
your neck now, just a scrap of flesh. You rip off a strip of coat and
use it to bind what’s left of your ear to your head. It helps to stem
the bleeding, at least – you’ll have to hope you find a doctor to help.
You send off a little prayer to whatever gods remain in this place
that it won’t get infected, and head off to the city.
END.
11.29
You turn the little bottle of morphine over in your hands. It will
make you dizzy, no doubt, but it will stem the pain.
You load the syringe with the one dose available and inject it into a
vein in your arm. You don’t have much time – it still hurts when you
remove the rest of your ear, but it’s nothing compared to the agony
you might have been in. You force yourself to stay sharp as you
stitch the wound shut. Soon, the bleeding has slowed, and you look
at your discarded ear lying on the ground. You put it into your pack;
it seems odd to just leave it here to rot.
Lying back against the tree, you close your eyes. You’ll go on to the
city. But first the morphine must wear off.
END.
Add Ear (O.11) to your inventory.
Remove Morphine from your inventory.
11.30
Without a painkiller, this is going to hurt.
You open your first aid kit and lay it on the ground in front of you.
Carefully, you prepare your operating scissors and a needle and
thread. Then you bite down on a stick from the base of the tree and
cut the useless remains of your ear off.
Even with something to muffle you, you scream so loud it hurts your
throat. You feel vomit rise, but you choke it back down, desperately
trying to fight against the pain. Your hands are bloody and shaking
as you pick up the needle and try to stitch the open flesh back
together. Each pull of the thread is agony. You don’t know how long
it takes, but eventually the bleeding has slowed, if not stopped
completely. You fall back against the tree and breathe heavily. Your
ear lies discarded to the side. You pocket it – it seems odd to leave it
here.
You’ll need time to recover, but when it’s better, you’ll go to the city.
What other choice do you have?
END.
Add Instability to your character sheet twice.
Add Ear (O.11) to your inventory.
CHAPTER 12
THE ZOO
12.1
The word Zoo is not one you’re particularly familiar with. Like many
things from the Old World, it didn’t make the transition into the
vaults. Honestly, humans were so focused on saving themselves
from a nuclear apocalypse that animals largely fell by the wayside.
Before you came to this land, the only animals you’d ever interacted
with had been the coop of chickens that the vault kept to use for
eggs.
One of the hens pecked you when you were six. You’d mostly kept
your distance after that.
And yet, here it is, plain as day, a sign that was once gaudy and
bright but is now battered by the annals of time. There was probably
more information, once – explanations for the visitors who used to
flock here, but now only one word remains.
ZOO.
You step under the stone archway that leads into the place. It’s
unlikely your group would be here, but it’s worth a look – if they
passed through, then they might have left some sort of clues in their
wake, something that could let you know where they’re going. A
voice in your head argues that you’re genuinely curious. You want to
know about what they did for fun back in the old world.
Plus, you wonder if any animals are still alive.
The place has clearly seen better days. Nobody has bothered with
upkeep, so all the plants that were likely once nicely groomed are
now overgrown and wild, spilling out of their pots and tumbling
onto the ground. Weeds stick out from the cracked paving stones
and try to trip you up as they lead you to a large, open square. It’s
eerily empty, apart from the remains of a garish pink and yellow
pavilion and a collection of rusting pictures and signs on a signpost.
Tall trees try to hide the other paths that lead outwards from this
place.
Read the signs – Turn to 12.2, Needs Old World Language.
Investigate the images – Turn to 12.3, Needs Knowledge.
Look for signs of animals – Turn to 12.4, Needs Survival.
Wander amongst the trees – Turn to 12.5.
Go into the pavilion – Turn to 12.18.
12.2
You use the sleeve of your coat to wipe away the dust and dirt that
has made its home on these signs. The words, once bright and
informative, are now mostly faded, just little scratches that need to
be deciphered.
You run your finger along each letter and try to sound the words out
like a child does as they learn to read. It takes a while, but eventually
you make some headway – you understand the signs are explaining
the various areas of this place, detailing the diverse animals that
once had their homes here. It seems there were several different
species housed in each place, but you aren’t quite sure why.
The best explanation that you can come up with is that these
animals were all being kept together here in order to run some sort
of research.
Visit ‘carnivores of the world’ – Turn to 12.6.
Visit ‘the African savannah’ – Turn to 12.7.
Visit ‘the reptile house’ – Turn to 12.8.
12.3
The pictures are almost as faded as the words, but at least it’s easier
to tell what they’re meant to be. Long extinct animals.
Elephants, sharks, orangutans – all species that were lost in the
great war.
You remember learning about these animals in your studies. The
lesson hadn’t focused much on them; there was no point in
reminiscing over all the things the war had taken, otherwise the
lectures would never end. You remember looking over a few pages
of a book at the lists and lists of creatures who used to inhabit the
earth before humans destroyed both it and them.
In your heart you hope that maybe some of them survived the
fallout, but you know it’s unlikely. If the animals weren’t killed in the
blast, it’s likely the radiation got them.
Humanity is awful, is the conclusion you come to. But there’s
nothing you can do about it now.
You look around, peering through the trees to the other areas of the
zoo. There seem to be some large cages in front of you, and on the
way is a dilapidated glass house. To the east it looks like there’s
some sort of open field.
Visit the large cages – Turn to 12.6.

Visit the open enclosure – Turn to 12.7.
Visit the ruined glass house – Turn to 12.8.
12.4
Though the ground is covered in pavement tiles, there’s enough
settled dust for you to be able to search for tracks.
There are no prints, apart from the small, forked feet of birds who
have landed and taken off again when they decided there was no
food worth having down here. A further exploration shows no
droppings, and no marks on trees to indicate that there are nests or
dens. It’s likely that the animals kept here either died in the
explosions, were taken out by the radiation, or – if they were able to
get through that far – starved to death because they were stuck
inside cages and everyone whose job it was to look after them had
perished.
It’s a shame that so much life was lost in the war, and how easily
people can forget about it when it isn’t human.
There are a few places dotted around. To the north, you can see a
glass house that’s almost skeletal at this point, cracked and
overgrown with vines just like everything else here. Beyond that is a
series of complex cages that you guess once held large mammals.
To the east is a large, open field.
Add Bird Prints (F.13) to your notebook.
12.5
You step past everything else, all the destroyed mess, and into the
trees. It’s nice to see that nature is trying to take back what was
stolen from it. You remember Vola turning to you in your youth with
a grin on her wrinkled face before departing wisdom in a hoarse
voice: “We haven’t killed the planet, my dear, we’ve killed ourselves.
It will keep on going, long after we’ve gone.”
It’s sad how right she was, but you can’t help but feel sorry for all
the animals caught up in this. They didn’t ask for this fallout. They
didn’t ask to be irradiated and starved to death. In fact, they
probably had no say about ending up in this zoo in the first place. It
breaks your heart.
You step between the overgrown trees on dusty earth that has
blades of grass trying to peek through. You feel bad crushing it
underfoot when it’s making such an effort to grow. In the distance,
you can see the sun glinting off the remains of what appears to be a
house of glass; however, if you go left, you will end up in a clearing.
Perhaps another area animals were kept?
Go to the glasshouse – Turn to 12.8.
Go to the opening – Turn to 12.7.
12.6
Lining the sides of a curved promenade are a series of tall, ornate
cages. Within them are artificial landscapes, ones you know would
have been much different from this country’s normal weather and
climate. The faux areas have been moulded from stone and painted
in earthy tones.
You can’t imagine that the places were hugely enriching for the
animals, even when they were running. You can see weathered signs
hanging above each of the enclosures pointing out areas of the Old
World where each animal originated. Though next to each other in
cages, they were originally thousands of miles apart. It seems unfair
to force them to make that journey to a strange, new land that could
only be full of terror for them.
Not unlike yourself, you suppose. At least you had a choice in the
matter.
You stop at the end of the row. A large pane of broken glass
separates you from a synthetic habitat that looks like mountains. A
huge skeleton is in the middle of it. You recognise the creature from
the sign from a storybook you read in your childhood – it is, or was,
a bear. Once mighty and proud, now nothing but ash and bone.
Inspect the skeleton – Turn to 12.9.

Go to the open enclosure – Turn to 12.7.
12.7
Considering you are in the middle of what was once a great city, this
open area is surprisingly vast. Though no match for the open plains
where the animals who inhabited this place came from, it at least
offers a large field to exercise and explore. Some of it has been
sculpted to make it seem more rocky and barren on one side, more
natural and overgrown on the other, probably to try to simulate the
natural environment as closely as possible.
There’s only a worn-down fence between you and this area. It might
be worth exploring further.
Go into the enclosure – Turn to 12.10.
12.8
It’s difficult to pick your way through the broken glass. You’re glad
that your boots have such thick soles – a less-prepared traveller may
have found their foot sliced open.
Despite being open to the fresh air there’s still a pungent smell
lingering around the glasshouse, a stink of stagnant water and rot. It
seems this place was home to several smaller enclosures, each of
them no bigger than the desks at which you spent your school hours.
You peek into the ones that you’re able to and find that they’re built
up inside with sticks and leaves. You furrow your brow – how are
people meant to watch the animals if they’re hidden in foliage?
The only things moving in here are insects. They seem to have
thrived in spite of everything. You watch with vague interest as
dozens of beetles writhe and crawl over each other in one of the
exhibits. At least something survived all of this, you think.
Inspect the building further – Turn to 12.11.
12.9
Carefully, you remove more of the glass from the pane
surrounding the enclosure. It takes a while as you don’t want to slice
your fingers, but eventually you make a gap big enough to get
through without injuring yourself.
There’s a lingering smell of death when you wander inside. You
wonder if the hole in the glass was made before or after the bear
died – if it was trapped and starved to death before the enclosure
wore down, or if it broke out and lived its life, simply coming back
here to go to sleep one last time.
Not worth dwelling on. Too miserable.
It’s difficult to tell how long the animal has been dead for. It’s long
since rotted away, layers of fat stripped down to nothing but bone.
You drop to your knees in front of it, still amazed by its sheer size,
even in death.
You want to take a memento. A whole bone might be too much…
but a tooth?
One of the pointed canines comes away easily in your hand from the
skull. You turn it over in your hand, surprised by its good quality
despite the years that have passed. You tuck it into a pocket before
leaving the skeleton alone in its faux cave and resting place.
Add Bear Tooth (O.19) to your inventory.

Turn to 12.12.
12.10
You lower yourself slowly into the open enclosure, hopping the
fence that surrounds it with relative ease. Your boots crunch loudly
on the dry grass, each step serving to amplify the fact that you’re
here, and you’re making a lot of noise.
At first you almost don’t hear it. A low sound, like one of the motors
that run electricity back in the Seed Vault. But then it gets louder
and you slowly turn around.
There’s a large cat, standing where you just jumped down. It’s
orange and white and striped – and very, very thin. A tiger? You
seem to remember them from your childhood books, but you
thought them all long dead.
Its yellow eyes stay focused and the two of you stare at each other
for a long time. You don’t want to move in case it gives chase, and
the tiger isn’t sure what to make of you in turn.
Remain still – Turn to 12.14.
Grab a stick and fight it off – Turn to 12.15, Needs Survival.
Run – Turn to 12.16.
12.11
You spend some time sifting through the rest of the tiny enclosures,
avoiding insects where you can (though you feel at least one crawl
up your sleeve – it takes a lot of flapping to expel it). You don’t find
anything else living, but you do find some interesting remains.
There’s a snake skin, thin and delicate in your hands, about twelve
inches long – shucked off some time ago by its owner and left as a
memento for explorers. A couple of ornate shells that are iridescent
and shine blues and greens in the sunlight filtering through the
wrecked glass.
All very pretty, but nothing particularly valuable.
You spot a movement out of the corner of your eye and whip your
head around. From inside the glasshouse you can see over to the
open enclosure, and you swear you just saw something move – was
it a tree in the breeze? Was it your imagination? Or was it… well,
something else? It might be worth investigating.
Follow the movement – Turn to 12.10.
12.12
You exit the zoo with no more information than when you walked in.
The only conclusion you can come to is that no humans have been
here for a long time – which means your group hasn’t been here,
either. Perhaps it was a high hope that they stopped off here, but it’s
worth checking every place you can. Even if your people aren’t
there, there’s always a chance that you’ll find something interesting
to report when you meet back up with them.
Either way, you make a note of the location and consider coming
back here later. There might be more history to be unearthed, more
to be learned of the old world.
You survey your surroundings. The zoo is slightly elevated, giving
you a good chance to look around. The landscape is vast here,
stretching out for miles in each direction, both town and nature
alike.
In the distance, you see movement – a line of caravans are making
their way along the hill and towards the city centre.
Making note of where they’re heading, you leave the zoo behind you.
Maybe they’ll be more helpful than this place.
END.
Add The Caravans (Chapter 24, L.24) to map.

12.13
The rifle is a reassuring weight in your hands. You’re lucky it’s
loaded. You always keep a round in the chamber just in case you’re
in this situation.
Well, perhaps not this exact situation – the tiger wasn’t something
you expected – but a similar situation, nonetheless.
Suddenly, you realise it’s moving towards you, fast and deadly, eyes
set on the promise of a fresh meal. You barely have time to aim
before you need to pull the trigger, and as the gunshot echoes
around the area the tiger leaps and lands heavily on you. You brace
yourself, blood pumping through your veins, waiting for its jaws to
clamp around your throat and tear it out. Fear leaves you frozen.
But nothing happens.
You realise how heavy the tiger is lying on top of you. Carefully, you
move an arm and find it doesn’t respond. It’s dead.
You have to squirm out from under it – though the tiger is almost
emaciated, it’s still surprisingly weighty. It’s left a red patch on your
coat where its blood dripped onto you from the bullet wound. You
sigh and know it’s going to be hard to explain to anyone who asks.
You look down at the dead animal and feel a pang of pity for it.
The descendant of one of the tigers when the bombs went off, it’s
probably known nothing but difficulty and hunger. It’s a sad end to a
noble beast.
Skin the tiger – Turn to 12.17.
Leave the zoo – Turn to 12.12.
Take a claw – Turn to 12.19.
12.14
You and the tiger keep locked eyes for a long moment, sizing each
other up. You don’t fancy your chances against it. You guess the tiger
hasn’t had a good meal for a while and knows how to bring down
something of your size.
Its tail whisks from side to side as it takes you in further. It decides
you clearly aren’t worth the bother. Slowly, the tiger turns round
and jumps back up to the ledge, disappearing further into the zoo.
Your blood thunders in your ears, but you don’t hang around for it
to change its mind. You scramble out of the enclosure and back
towards the zoo’s entrance, looking over your shoulder repeatedly,
just in case.
Turn to 12.12.
12.15
Branches have been shed from trees from the wooded area of the
enclosure. Keeping eyes locked with the beast, you reach down and
pick one up with a firm grasp. The tiger growls again, more of a roar
this time, as you stamp down on the branch and splinter it into a
point under your boot.
It makes a lunge for you but you stab forward with your improvised
weapon and catch it in the shoulder. You imagine that, were this
beast up to its full fighting potential, you’d have no chance against it,
but it’s weak and starved and unsure of how to take you down. The
sharp end pierces its shoulder and it yelps with pain.
Blood drips onto the grass as it retreats, unable to tread on one of its
paws, and it gives one last hiss before jumping out of the enclosure
and hobbling away.
You drop the stick and pant heavily. Your blood thunders in your
ears, but you don’t hang around for it to change its mind. You
scramble out of the enclosure and back towards the zoo’s entrance,
looking over your shoulder repeatedly, just in case.
Turn to 12.12.
12.16
You turn on your heel and spring into action, heading towards the
forest area. Your only hope is that the tiger is so exhausted by its
hunger that it can’t chase you – your endurance will outweigh its
speed, and you’ll lose it in the trees.
You hear it following you not long after and think, perhaps this was a
bad idea. Its breathing is heavy and laboured, but it hits just as hard
when it pounces on you. You fall to the ground heavily with a grunt
under its weight. It tumbles and rolls a few feet away, scrabbling to
get back to a stand.
It lunges again and you do the only thing you can – pull your legs
back and barrel into it with as much force as you can. Your feet
connect and you shove it off with every ounce of strength you can
muster. The tiger roars as it flies backwards – and then stops
moving. It takes you a while to work out what’s happened, then you
see it’s been impaled on a ragged tree branch – completely run
through. It makes a pitiful noise before it stops moving completely.
All you can do is count your blessings to the high heavens as you get
up, shaking badly.
You look down at the dead animal and feel a pang of pity for it.
The descendant of one of the tigers when the bombs went off, it’s
probably known nothing but difficulty and hunger. It’s a sad end to a
noble beast.
Skin the tiger – Turn to 12.17, Needs Survival.
Leave the zoo – Turn to 12.12.
Take a claw – Turn to 12.19.
12.17
Your knife cuts easily through the tiger, even though it’s the first
time you’ve skinned a beast of this size. It takes a while, and you’re
working well past sunset. The smell isn’t pleasant, but you continue
on anyway – the tiger doesn’t need its skin any more, and it seems a
waste to just leave it here.
Both your blade and your coat are stained in blood by the time
you’re done. You try not to look at what’s left of the tiger. It seems
odd and naked without its skin – it’s pink and glistening. You turn
your back on it as you roll up the skin and tuck it into the side of
your pack. At the very least, you can use it to keep warm during the
cold nights, and at best, maybe you can use it for trade.
Add Tiger Skin (O.20) to your inventory.
Turn to 12.12.
12.18
The pavilion smells of dust and decay, and you cough wildly as you
walk through the tattered canvas doors. There are dozens of chairs
scattered around, as well as desks with long-faded pamphlets on
them. Due to its proximity to the entrance, you suppose this was the
first stop for visitors to the zoo to come ato gather information for
their visit.
You pick up one of the bits of paper, but it’s incredibly brittle in your
hands, falling away into nothingness at your touch. With a sigh, you
decide there’s nothing worth looking at here, nor anything worth
taking – you head back to the signpost outside.
The fresh air is welcome as you look around, peering through the
trees to the other areas of the zoo. There seem to be some large
cages in front of you, and on the way is a dilapidated glass house. To
the east it looks like there’s some sort of open field.
12.19
You doubt you know enough about anatomy to skin the
whole tiger, you decide. You could make an attempt, but it would be
bloody and messy and would take too long.
A claw, though…
You take out your pocketknife and approach the animal, giving a
moment to make sure it’s really dead. Then, you get to work.
Despite the fact it was so emaciated, its paw is still large and heavy
in your hand. You dig your blade between its toes and plunge into
the flesh. The claw doesn’t come away easily, but with enough
wiggling, you’re able to separate it and it falls onto the floor with a
splatter of blood. You clean it on the ground and put it into your
pocket.
Add Tiger Claw (O.21) to your inventory.
Turn to 12.12.
CHAPTER 13
THE CITY CENTRE
13.1
With everything behind you, you walk slowly into the city, keeping
yourself on guard in case anything else should happen. It’s been
enough trouble just getting here, and the last thing you want is to be
ambushed when you’re simply exploring.
This was probably once a great, grand place. Judging by what’s left
of the buildings, you imagine it held many people at one time, all
bustling about and doing their jobs.
But time, and the war, haven’t been kind. The architecture is in
various states of decay, and even though some of it is less wrecked
than others, none of it has held up enough to really be liveable.
Everything here is arranged in grids and orderly shapes – roads and
pavements cutting everything into squares and rectangles to get the
maximum efficiency from the space. The concrete and tarmac
beneath your feet has eroded away and is now overgrown by grass
and weeds.
Altogether, it’s a far cry from how it used to be.
The path you trek brings you into an open area, the angular roads
you’d seen before smoothing out to make a circular plaza. The state
of decay here is much the same as the roads before, but
something does grab your attention – a statue sitting in the middle

of the place, dusty and overgrown, and toppled.
Inspect the statue – Turn to 13.2, Needs Knowledge.
Search for the statue’s plaque – Turn to 13.3, Needs Old World
Language.
Inspect the nearby buildings – Turn to 13.4.
Look for signs of people – Turn to 13.5.
13.2
You bend down to get a good look at what’s left of the statue.
It seems to be of a young man, his face set seriously –
almost in a grimace. It’s likely he once stood proudly, but now he lies
amongst the weeds and vines that have crept up his solid legs. In his
hands is grasped a rudimentary weapon which you recognise as a
rifle with a bayonet attached – something which would have been
old-fashioned even before the war.
He has a helmet on his head, and the side that faces the sky has been
the victim of birds over the years. He’s green, the weather hasn’t
taken his colouring away from him – but this side is covered in
white streaks. It seems almost disrespectful to the history of the old
world, but you suppose the birds don’t know any better. Maybe they
did this before the war, too.
Judging by the formality of the clothes he’s dressed in, you guess it
to be some sort of military uniform. The statue includes several
extra pockets strapped over its jacket, which were probably for
holding supplies – not unlike you and your pack.
You wonder what the story is behind him. Perhaps you’ll be able to
track down someone who knows its story, but it’s more likely that
his tale has been lost to time.
Make a sketch of the statue – Turn to 13.6.

13.3
There is a plaque on the bottom of the statue, just as you thought.
Several gnarled branches have grown over it, though, and it’s a bit of
a fight to free it from their clutches.
You cut your finger once and swear, sucking the blood off to seal the
wound, and think this had better be worth it.
Though the words are faded, it seems that being hidden in the
foliage has been a boon to the plaque. The plants have acted as a
barrier against the elements, so it hasn’t eroded quite as badly as the
man himself. You run your knuckles over the letters to free some of
the dirt that has made its home in the crevices there.
FOR THE FALLEN SOLDIER
1914–1918
You try to recall why those dates are important, but the memory
fails you. You remember them being droned into you in school as
you doodled in the margins of your history book, but clearly being
artistic was more important to you at the time. A strange feeling of
guilt overcomes you and you’re not sure why, but it seems now like
the statue is frowning at your inability to remember his purpose.
Check the statue against your map – Turn to 13.7.

13.4
You run your eyes over the decayed heaps of buildings that time has
left. Nothing moves, nothing makes a sound. It’s a little bit eerie;
then again, so is all of the old world.
It seems that these buildings aren’t a fit place for humans to survive,
not now anyway. If you want to find your group, you’re going to
have to press further on into the city.
To the north of the plaza, you can see a tall spire reaching up into
the sky. It seems to be quite a walk away but might have something
promising, acting as a beacon on the skyline to a wandering traveller
like you.
To the east, the buildings continue, standing in uniformed rows.
Perhaps your group went along these where the rubble was cleared
from the streets?
The sound of three loud gunshots snaps you out of your thoughts.
With the amount that they echo around the plaza, it’s impossible to
tell where they were fired from.
You decide it’s best not to hang around.
You pull your pack tight and hurry into one of the abandoned
buildings, finding a safe, hidden place to tuck yourself away for the
night before continuing your search in the morning. You forgo a

warm dinner in favour of rations, not wanting a fire to lead anyone
towards you who might do you harm.
You settle down for the night to the sound of howling wind.
END.
Add The Church (Chapter 14, L.14) and The Streets (Chapter 28,
L.28) to map.
13.5
You look around for a little while, ducking into the deserted
buildings and checking out the rubble. There seems to be fresh litter
scattered around. Well, fresher than the plastic litter from the old
world, anyway. Despite the passage of time, that still hasn’t started
to erode yet. There are some faint footprints in the dust and dirt left
on the pavement stones, but it’s hard to tell how old they are. It
seems that, while people travel through this place, they don’t decide
to stay for long.
Deciding you want a better look around, you pull yourself up one of
the taller, more stable-looking buildings. The leftover bricks sticking
out of the wall make for good hand and foot holds, and you’re able to
scale the thing with relative ease. You raise your head up, over the
rest of the rubble and ruined buildings to scan the horizon, the wind
shrieking loudly in your ears.
There’s a very tall building to the north with a pointed roof that
reaches up into the sky. It’s hard to tell from this distance, but you
may see movement around it – though that might just be a trick of
the eye. Apart from that, to the east there’s a cleaner road, almost
like debris has been removed for easier access – maybe for carts and
travellers?
Far, far away you can see an open expanse with a few buildings
crowded around it. You can’t quite tell what it is, but it seems to be
fenced off. You make a note to add it to the map as well.
All three of these places might be worth exploring. For now, you
carefully lower yourself to the ground, taking your time so the
vicious breeze doesn’t fling you to the ground. You take your pack
and find a place to tuck yourself away for the night amongst the
ruined buildings, taking advantage of a good night’s sleep before you
continue tomorrow.
END.
Add The Church (Chapter 14, L.14), The Zoo (Chapter 12, L.12),
and The Streets (Chapter 28, L.28) to map.
13.6
You take a seat beside the statue, cross-legged on the ground, and
bring your sketchbook to your lap. It isn’t something that you’ve had
much use for so far in your travels, your drawing ability being shaky
at best, but you feel like this place is worth documenting. You’re just
not sure why.
Your field notes so far have mostly been scribbled observations and
little doodles of local flora. Things that are helpful for you as you try
to track down your group. It’s a nice change of pace to be able to
note something like this. Something that’s of significance, from
before the Ash War.
You sit for twenty, maybe thirty minutes, enjoying the sound of your
pencil on paper. Eventually your legs grow cold, but by that time
you’re happy with the outcome of your drawing, it being not
dissimilar to the statue in front of you. As you stand, you find
yourself reaching out and laying a hand on the statue as a sign of
respect.
Although you don’t know its history, you hope it was made to
honour something good. The metal is cold under your palm and you
shudder.
After a moment of reflection, you inspect the area around you.
the sky. It seems to be quite a walk away but might be something
promising, acting as a beacon on the skyline to the wandering
traveller like you.
To the east, the buildings continue, standing in uniform rows.
Perhaps your group went along that way, since the rubble has
largely been cleared from the streets?
Either of them might be good places to search. For now the sun is
going down and you find a place amongst the ruined buildings to
camp for the night, taking advantage of a full night’s sleep before
you push on in the morning.
END.
Add Statue Sketch (O.15) to your inventory.
L.28) to map.
13.7
You take out your map, looking at the annotations on it both in your
hand and from those who have helped you along the way. It takes
you a moment to cross-reference your location, as you have to try to
pinpoint where you are based on the surrounding land rather than
the city itself, and with surprise you find you’re much further east
than you initially thought. Nobody from your vault has ever been out
this far. You feel a little thrill at that – you’re exploring unmarked
territory.
the sky – maybe your group headed for it, the tall point acting like a
beacon for the weary traveller?
To the east, the buildings continue, standing in uniform rows. The
rubble has been cleared from the road to make a more manageable
path. If they had carts with them, they might have gone that way.
Either way seems like a good place to search. But for now, the sun is
going down and you find a place amongst the ruined buildings to
camp for the night, taking advantage of a full night’s sleep before
you push on in the morning.
END.
L.28) to map.
CHAPTER 14
THE CHURCH
14.0
Turn to 14.1.
Turn to 14.1a, Needs ‘Ark’ as your boat name.
14.1
If you thought the building was tall from far away, that impression
pales in comparison to what it’s like up close. The only other thing
you’ve seen that’s comparable in size was the ship, and even then
that was a totally different kind of grandeur.
While the ship was a juggernaut of metal and rust, this building is
something else. It’s made of brown stone and grey slate and is in
surprisingly good condition considering the state of the buildings
that surround it. They’ve all succumbed to age and decay, but it
seems like effort has been put into this place to keep it standing.
People are milling about, passing outside and filing in through
where the great wooden doors have been left ajar. You tug your
pack tightly to you and follow them in. Perhaps your group passed
through here on their travels.
There is no entryway, instead the outside leads straight into a large
hall. It’s a large, open space and seems to take up almost all of the
building, with only a few side rooms. Despite the effort at upkeep,
some of the roof has fallen away and light filters in along with a few
smug-looking pigeons who have perched amongst the rafters.
Humans come and go, pigeons continue.
The floor is of nicely kept stone. Wooden benches line either side of
a worn-out strip of carpet that leads to the far end of the room,
where a tall cross stands with nails embedded into it. The room is lit
up with a sea of colours, and you see the source is the sunlight being
filtered through stained glass, depicting a man with long hair and a
beard.
Oh, you think, it’s a church. It’s completely different to the worship
rooms you had back in the vault. This must have been where they
got the inspiration for the décor – coloured glass and rows of seats
all facing an altar.
You didn’t spend much time there. Religion seemed to be something
older members of the community clung to. You didn’t really
understand why or how anyone could believe in all that after the
war had happened – especially those who lived through it.
Eventually, you gave up trying to figure it out and let those who
chose to worship worship. There was no point causing a fuss.
You make your way along the centre aisle. A couple of people sit
with their heads bowed. They don’t look up at you.
Inspect the cross – Turn to 14.2.
Inspect the edges of the building – Turn to 14.3.
Inspect the window – Turn to 14.4.
14.1A
If you thought the building was tall from far away, that impression
pales in comparison to what it’s like up close. The only other thing
you’ve seen that’s comparable was the ship, and even then that was
a totally different kind of grandeur. While the ship was a juggernaut
of metal and rust, this building is something else. It’s made of brown
stone and grey slate and is in surprisingly good condition,
considering the other buildings that surround it. They’ve all
succumbed to age and decay, but it seems like effort was actually
put into this place to keep it standing.
People are milling about, both passing outside and filing in through
the great wooden doors that have been left ajar. You tug your pack
tightly to you and follow them in – perhaps your group passed
through here on their travels.
There is no entryway; instead, the outside leads straight into a large
hall. It’s a large, open space and seems to take up almost all of the
building, except for a few side rooms. Despite the effort at upkeep,
some of the roof has fallen away and light filters in along with a few
smug-looking pigeons who have perched amongst the rafters.
Humans come and go, pigeons continue.

The floor is made of nicely kept stone. Wooden benches line either
side of a worn-out strip of carpet that leads to the far end of the
room, where a tall cross stands with nails embedded into it. The
room is lit up with a sea of colours and you see the source is the
sunlight being filtered through stained glass depicting a man with
long hair and a beard.
Oh, you think, it’s a church. It’s completely different to the worship
rooms you had back in the vault. This must have been where they
got the inspiration for the décor – coloured glass and rows of seats,
all facing an altar.
You didn’t spend much time there. Religion seemed to be something
older members of the community clung to. You didn’t really
understand why, or how anyone could believe in all that after the
war, especially those who lived through it.
Eventually, you gave up and let those who chose to worship
worship. There was no point causing a fuss.
The whole scene makes you think of your journey over, discussing
boat names with your two companions, and Viktor’s command,
cutting through the wind, that your boat name should be Ark.
Although it took you by surprise, you and Gaia accepted the
suggestion anyway.
Viktor. You sigh for a moment as you think about him. You hope he’s
all right.
You steel yourself. If you find the group, you get answers.
You make your way along the centre aisle. A couple of people sit
with their heads bowed. They don’t look up at you.
Inspect the edges of the building – Turn to 14.3.
Inspect the window – Turn to 14.4.
14.2
The cross is old and weathered, but made of wood; it’s almost
certainly post-war. All the nails that have been driven into it are
different shapes and sizes, and seem to have been hammered in with
various levels of skill, almost as if they’ve been left by hundreds of
different people.
From the glass windows, the setting sun is filtering through,
highlighting every speck of floating, silver dust. There is a lot of it in
here, showing this building’s age – although it seems the benches
are kept clean, dust has settled on a lot of ledges, too high for anyone
to reach and wipe away.
The base of the cross is crowded with items. Fruit, from fresh to
rotting, old clothing, even a few coins you guess were once used for
currency. Some of the offerings here have clearly been left for ages,
out of respect, but there is a horrible smell from where the older
gifts have succumbed to age and have turned sour with mould. Your
nose wrinkles at the stench.
Take an offering – Turn to 14.5.
Leave an offering – Turn to 14.6.
Inspect the rest of the building – Turn to 14.3.
14.3
Walking between pillars lining the side of the building, you get a
sense of the size of the room. Sunbeams streak in through the
brightly coloured windows and the cracks in the roof alike,
illuminating the thousands of specks of dust that make their home in
this vast place. You almost loathe to cut through their little dances as
you walk along the wall, running your fingers over the rough
stonework and smooth columns.
Your journey takes you past the cross in the back of the hall and
further into the church. The dust has settled here and gets in your
nose; you have to scrunch it to stop from sneezing and drawing
attention to yourself.
There’s not much to look at back here. As you suspected when you
entered the building, most of it is one room, the main hall of
worship. There are a few chairs stacked high on top of each other,
probably there in case they needed extra seating, but from the
amount of grime you gather there’s not much of a call for them.
Apart from them, the only other thing worth looking at back here is
an old door. It’s wooden and looks newer than the stone
surrounding it, so you guess it’s been replaced reasonably recently.
It’s set with wrought iron to strengthen it, and a lock is on the
handle
– a sturdy one, but not unbreakable, you decide as you look it over,
but the noise you create might call attention...
Break open the lock – Turn to 14.7, Needs Hand-to-Hand Combat.
Pick the lock – Turn to 14.8, Needs Engineering.
Inspect the glass window – Turn to 14.4.
14.4
You walk towards the window and feel an odd sense of calm wash
over you. The sun filtering through it is warm on your face and gives
you a feeling of comfort that you haven’t experienced for a long time.
You take a moment to close your eyes and bask in it.
You’ve never seen anything like this. From what you remember, the
worship room in your vault was a clinical, white thing. There were
holy books and pews, but nothing like this. You wonder how long it
took to make the window, the craftsman setting up the glass just
right, making sure everything was beautiful before it went to its new
home. You’re amazed it outlasted the war, but you find yourself glad
that it did.
A pigeon taking flight behind you shocks you back into the moment.
You turn and see a pair hopping off a rafter and rising up through
the hole in the roof, all feathers and rustling. Not exactly the most
elegant of birds. It seems rude that they’ve decided to make a home
here.
Your eyes fall down and you notice you’re being watched. There’s a
young girl keeping an eye on you from where she sits at the pew.
She looks no older than fourteen, and gives you a little nod before
turning her head back to bow before the cross.
Three men enter the building. They’re dressed in rough, hessian
robes, tied at the waist with a cord belt. Their heads are shaved and
they walk slowly towards the altar. Their mouths are open and they
are singing, letting out a haunting harmony which fills every inch of
the space and echoes into a crescendo.
Sit with the girl – Turn to 14.9.
Talk to the men – Turn to 14.10.
Leave the building – Turn to 14.11.
14.5
You inspect the offerings further. There’re some bones between
scraps of fabric and food; perhaps they were placed here by hunters
out of respect. You wonder how long some of this stuff has been
here. For every ripe, crisp apple, there’s one that’s turned to rot
beside it. There’s old-looking jewellery, even though you haven’t
seen any of the people in this land wearing jewellery. Was it put
here before the war? Perhaps just after, as the bombs fell?
In between the various gifts, you see a metal badge. It’s emblazoned
with the guard’s insignia from the bridge, and could be useful to you.
More useful to you than it is just sitting here abandoned, anyway.
You pick it up and tuck it into your pocket.
When you turn, you notice you’re being watched. Three bald men in
hessian robes are observing your actions and they look stunned,
offended even.
Point to your badge – Turn to 14.12.
Speak with them – Turn to 14.13.
Ready your gun – Turn to 14.14, Needs Sharpshooter.
14.6
Carefully, you place your pack down so as to not make too much
noise. This whole place is quiet and you’re loathe to disturb it with
rustling.
You find something suitable, and lay it down in front of the cross.
You’re not quite sure why. You were never a great follower of
religion, but it seems… respectful, somehow.
You let a sense of calm and tranquillity wash over you. It’s probably
all in your head. But it still feels nice.
A few moments pass and you feel a hand on your shoulder. You look
up to see a group of men, all with bald heads and hessian robes,
looking down at you. The one who’s reached out for you gives you a
warm smile.
Remove Any Item from your inventory.
Speak to them – Turn to 14.15.
14.7
The lock sits on a rough chain which keeps the door shut and locked.
You hum quietly to yourself as you consider your best option. It
doesn’t look particularly well made, and is rusting badly. They really
need to update their security here.
Hopefully, when whoever runs this place finds evidence of your
break-in, they’ll get a move on.
You grab either end of the chain and pull. It holds fast at first, but
you wrap either end around your fist and pull tighter. There’s an
awfully loud groan as it begins to give. One more tug and you’re
there, the old metal no match for your superior strength.
It falls with a heavy clang to the floor and you open the door behind
it. Immediately in front of you is a staircase which spirals up further
than you can see.
Follow the staircase – Turn to 14.16.
Leave quietly – Turn to 14.11.
14.8
You crouch by the lock and take it in your hand, inspecting it.
It’s in surprisingly good condition and seems to be doing its job well,
but you’re pretty sure it’s nothing you can’t handle.
You root through your pack as quietly as you can, trying to secure
the tools you need. You bring out a narrow screwdriver and
carefully insert it into the keyhole. It takes a bit of wiggling, but soon
you hear the telltale click of the mechanism being sprung undone.
It’s likely this lock was made shortly after the war, as it’s weak and
not particularly complex.
Carefully, you put it on the floor and open the door it was holding
shut, unwinding the heavy iron chains from around the handle. The
doorway leads immediately to a staircase which spirals up further
than you can see.
Follow the staircase – Turn to 14.16.
Leave quietly – Turn to 14.11.
14.9
The girl gives you a shy smile as you sit down on her pew, giving
about a metre of space so she doesn’t feel crowded.
She quickly goes back to clutching her hands together and mumbling
some sort of prayer. You don’t want to disturb her further.
The men continue their eerie song as they make their way towards
the cross. The longer you listen to it, the less unsettling you find it.
It’s certainly haunting, but it also has a beauty to it. It’s easy to get
lost in. You sit back and watch them for a little while.
Try to repeat the song – Turn to 14.17.
Leave the building – Turn to 14.18.
Wait quietly – Turn to 14.19.
14.10
The three bald men encircle the cross at the shrine and continue to
sing as they go. You don’t quite catch all of the words, but they don’t
sound like the language you’ve heard the inhabitants of this world
use. It sounds… older. Like it was ancient, even before the war.
The eldest harbours a large beard and steps up onto the altar. He
begins to speak to those of you who are gathered. You’re not paying
much attention, but he seems to be telling a story about a man who
died so the world’s sins could be absolved…? You’re not sure you
believe that, considering the weight of what the world did to itself
when the bombs were dropped. You don’t think that sort of thing
can just be expunged from humanity’s conscience.
Nevertheless, you sit and listen respectfully until he finishes
speaking and notices you. His eyes light up and he and his
companions beckon you over.
“You’re not from Alba?” he asks excitedly. You nod.
“Yes. I was separated from my group in the storm.”
“Some of us believe your people are here to bring us the new world.
Save us from the damnation of this war-ravaged land. Are you?”
You’re not quite sure how to answer him. It’s a big question, and one
you weren’t expecting. He looks excited, but you can’t honestly say
you’re here to deliver this world – you were only here to do
research.
“I am.” – Turn to 14.20.
“I just want to find my team.” – Turn to 14.21.
14.11
You spend a couple of moments contemplating. Though this place is
interesting, there’s no sign your group has been here. You would
expect to see some sort of evidence of their passing through –
people set ablaze with whispers, or perhaps some physical evidence
as a sign to you or any other outsiders.
There’s no point lingering, you decide. As you leave, you notice
there’s a map tacked up on the door, hidden from you when you
entered. It shows a rough layout of the land around the church. You
take a couple of notes down on your own map and head out,
unwilling to spend any more time in this place or you may be
inclined not to leave.
END.
Add The Library (Chapter 17, L.17), The Metro (Chapter 22, L.22),
and The Base/The Offer (Chapter 18, L.18) to map.
14.12
You point to your badge. The eldest member of the group, a bearded
man, claps his hands together in excitement and it makes you jump.
He suddenly comes over and embraces you. His robes are itchy and,
though the gesture is surprising, it’s not entirely unwelcome. You
don’t remember the last time you were hugged. It might even have
been before you got on the boat to come to this land.
“You’re an outsider! Come, sit down, you must be weary.”
You take a seat on the pew the man gestures you to, and he mutters
something to one of his companions who scurries away.
“We’re always excited to receive outsiders,” he tells you, warmly
laying a hand on yours.
“‘Always’? Why, have you had any more visitors from the New
World recently?” You can’t hold back the note of excitement in your
voice. Could your group have come through here? Unfortunately, he
shakes his head and you feel your heart drop.
“I’m afraid not. Not for nigh on a year now. Why, are you searching?”
You tell him of your journey and he listens, enraptured. At some
point the other man returns with a plate of food for you and you find
yourself wolfing it down hungrily, thankful for the hospitality. At the

end of your tale, the bearded man nods and strokes the hair on his
chin.
“I’m afraid I haven’t heard any rumours about another group – but I
can give you directions to areas they might have gone to?”
You hand him your map and he makes notes in small, neat letters
before handing it back to you. You finish off the scraps of food and
look into his warm eyes.
“Why are you being so kind to me?”
“Because, my dear, we believe you will bring salvation to this world.
We so desperately need it.” He looks sad for a moment but quickly
replaces it with another smile. “You’re welcome to stay the night
here. We can’t offer you a bed, but at least it’s warm and indoors.”
He bows his head before getting to his feet and walking away with
the other two, launching back into their chant. You suck the grease
off your fingers as you inspect the map and consider his offer.
END.
Add Priestly Encounter (E.7) to your character sheet.
The Battlefield (Chapter 26, L.26), and The Base/The Offer
Add a Red Circle (F.27) to map around Locations 18 and 26.
Add a Green Circle (F.28) to map around Locations 17 and 22.
14.13
“Why do you look so upset?” you ask. The eldest
member of the group, a bearded man, shakes his head sadly.
“The cross is a symbol of a great sacrifice that must be given to bring
a new world into being. I thought you might have known that.”
He nods to your uniform, the thing that betrays you as being an
outsider. “Are you not from a vault?”
“I am.”
“Some of us believe your people are here to bring us the New World.
Save us from the damnation of this war-ravaged land. Are you here
to shepherd us into the light?”
You’re not quite sure how to answer him. It’s a big question and one
you weren’t expecting. You can’t honestly say you’re here to deliver
this world – you were only here to do research.
“I am.” – Turn to 14.20.
“I just want to find my team.” – Turn to 14.21.
14.14
You bring your weapon into your hands and the men stop, suddenly
nervous. There are scattered gasps from the congregation at the
sight of a weapon. You imagine they aren’t commonly seen in this
land, especially in a place of worship.
Slowly, the men raise their hands in defence. The eldest one shakes
his head at you, almost begging you to rethink your actions.
You feel guilty and begin to back away, heading down the same
carpet you followed into the building. Every now and then, you whip
your head round to make sure you know where you’re going. On the
door, you spot a map that has been tacked up – you take a moment
before you rip it from the wood and break out into a sprint, leaving
the church.
Nobody follows you, but you don’t stop until you can’t see the
church any longer. You take a moment to transfer the locations on
the map to your own before screwing it up and throwing it down an
alley.
You don’t feel… proud of your actions. But you push on anyway.
Your group wasn’t there. They must be somewhere else.
END.

14.15
“We don’t see many people leaving such kind offerings
these days. Tell me, what brings you here?”
The man who speaks is the eldest of the three.
He’s bald, like his companions, but sports a thick, grey beard which
has been waxed back to keep his mouth free. As you get to your feet,
his eyes drop to your badge and light up.
“You… are an outsider?”
“Yes, sir,” you confess. He claps his hands together with delight.
It’s the warmest welcome you’ve had so far.
“Some of us believe your people are here to bring us the new world.
Save us from the damnation of this war-ravaged land. Are you? Have
you come to help?”
You’re not quite sure how to answer him. It’s a big question, and one
you weren’t expecting. He looks excited, but you can’t honestly say
you’re here to deliver this world – you were only here to do
research.
“I believe the same.” – Turn to 14.20.
“I just want to find my group and go home.” – Turn to 14.21.
14.16
The spiral staircase is high. You can’t see the outside as you ascend,
since the walls of the tower are solid stone, but the further up you
go the worse the vertigo gets. It’s almost more harrowing when you
can’t check how far above ground you are. It feels like miles.
It’s not, of course, a fact which is only corroborated when you get to
the top of the staircase. You’re right in that the tower is quite tall, a
few storeys, but probably not much taller than when you were on
the ship village. It’s only a small room, with a window set into it and
an old spyglass set onto the floor. You guess the people who run this
place don’t really have a lot of calls to come up here, their time
better spent on the ground with the congregation.
You pick up the spyglass and take a moment to cast your eyes over
the streets and note anything of interest. From here, you can see a
good chunk of the city laid out in its neat squares. From out of your
pack you bring your map and try to mark your location against it,
adding in extra aspects where it isn’t very detailed.
There’s a big area of rubble towards the north of the town.
Squinting through the lens of the telescope you can see several signs
indicating something called a ‘metro’. To the east, a large
building, though not as grand as the church, has several people
filtering through its doors. Far, far to the west, you can see a
building being heavily guarded, surrounded with barbed wire.
A loud sound makes you jump. You peek your head out from the
spire window, keeping a firm grip on the stones either side of it. A
couple of streets over, along the rubble-cleared streets, a fight is
breaking out. With bullets. People are falling rapidly. You don’t hang
around and watch for too long – it’s going to be best to avoid that
place, you think.
You jot all the new developments down on your map. You consider
taking the telescope with you, but decide you’ve probably done
enough damage just getting up here. Carefully, you place it back onto
the floor and leave the spire and then the church before anyone can
spot you.
END.
Remove The Streets (Chapter 28) from map.
14.17
You don’t sing often. The last time you really tried was back on the
boat on your way over, but even then it wasn’t to sound nice, it was
to shout out sea shanties with Gaia (and occasionally Viktor, when
the mood struck him) in order to keep up morale when the waves
were harsh.
The waves were usually harsh. Your singing didn’t improve, though.
You do your best to mimic the song the men are singing. Your voice
is odd and croaky, unused to carrying a melody. The men hear you
and stop their own chanting, turning to face you, and you’re left
carrying a couple of notes on your own before your mouth closes
with an embarrassed click of your teeth.
The eldest one, a man with a long grey beard, gives you a smile.
It doesn’t seem pitying at your pathetic attempt, but instead grateful
that you made the effort.
“It’s nice to hear another voice join us in prayer. Have you come far,
friend?”
“Yes. Very far,” you confess. The man looks you up and down and
recognition floods his face. He’s identified you as an outsider.
Instead of the usual coldness you get, his eyes light up.
“You come from across the ocean?”

“Yes,” you say, appreciating the warmth in his voice, but feeling
suspicious of it at the same time.
“We’ve been waiting for you for a long time. Some of us in this
church believe that it’s the travellers from over the seas that will
bring us into the light. Do you believe that, too?”
“I do.” – Turn to 14.20.
“I don’t.” – Turn to 14.21.
14.18
You spend a few more moments basking in the strange
harmony before you decide it’s best to leave. You can’t see any
evidence that your group was here. Slowly you get to your feet and
begin to leave.
“Where are you going?”
The girl’s voice is quiet, but still makes you jump. She looks up at
you with large, brown eyes, full of innocence. Gods, she really can’t
be more than fourteen, but her face is lined with exhaustion.
“I’m trying to find my friends,” you say. She nods and then points
behind her, back towards the main doors. You see there’s a piece of
paper tacked onto the wood there, hidden from sight when you
entered the building.
“There’s a map there which might help you with your journey.
God be with you.”
She smiles and you return it, shakily. You leave the girl back to her
head-bowing and prayer and as you leave, you add annotations to
your own map from that of the church’s.
As you leave the sound of the song follows you in the wind.
You’re not sure if it’s the breeze or the harmony that gives you
goosebumps.
END.
14.19
You spend time sitting with your pew-mate and basking in the
haunting sounds of the voices. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever heard
before. Singing wasn’t a usual pastime in the vault - it seemed like
after the war a lot of joy was sucked from the world and that
included raising your voice in song. Any melodies you heard from
the worship rooms were dreary and dull, droned out by people who
sounded like they’d rather be anywhere else.
The men bow to the cross at the altar and the hall descends into
silence. Slowly, everyone in the pews begin to leave, some going to
place an offering, some leaving only prayers. The girl next to you
smiles before she slips away, out of the doors at the far end of the
building.
The bald men turn to you. The eldest member of the party, a grey-
bearded man, smiles at you.
“I haven’t seen you here before. Are you new to the city?”
“Yes, I am.”
His eyes suddenly fall on your badge, marking you as an outsider.
His eyebrows raise.
“You come from across the sea?”
“Yes,” you say, answering cautiously.
“We’ve been waiting for you for a long time. Some of us in this
church believe that it’s the travellers from over the seas that will
bring us into the light. Do you believe that, too?”
“I do.” – Turn to 14.20.
“I don’t.” – Turn to 14.21.
14.20
This was clearly the answer he wanted to hear. The man throws
open his arms and embraces you. It’s an odd feeling, but not
unwelcome – you honestly can’t remember the last time someone
gave you a hug. You don’t return it, but you do enjoy the warmth.
“Come, join us for a meal. You must be tired.”
You’re going to deny the offer, but a loud rumble from your stomach
speaks before you can. You blush and he laughs, bringing you to sit
at the altar while one of his companions scuttles off. You tell him of
your journey here and he listens intently, nodding and paying
attention even when the man returns with plates of food and you
speak only between bites of fatty meat.
“It seems your journey has been long, traveller. It’s a miracle that
you made it this far.”
You’re not sure if it’s a miracle exactly, but you do feel incredibly
lucky. If things had gone a different way, perhaps you wouldn’t be
here; instead, you’d be lying dead in a ditch, or maybe even still back
at the vault.
You shudder at the idea. Being trapped back there seems worse than
death out here.
“I haven’t seen your group, but there may be a way to contact them.
There is a radio tower south-east of here. It’s a long walk, but it’s
probably your best shot at making contact.”
Your heart pounds in excitement. This is the best lead you’ve had.
You thank the man with gusto and he laughs.
“You’re welcome to stay the night and head off in the morning.
Here, let me mark your map – I can give you extra information for
places to avoid. If you wish to look around more in this city, there
are a couple of places I can recommend.”
He takes your map and scrawls notes in little letters. You find
yourself very sleepy all of a sudden and take advantage of his
kindness. There are no beds here; instead you and the men sleep at
the foot of the altar beneath the cross. You feel oddly protected as
sleep takes you over that night, and finally sure you’re heading in
the right direction.
END.
The Radio Tower (Chapter 25, L.25), and The Base/The Offer
14.21
Though he wanted to hear a different answer, you can’t lie to the
man’s face. You aren’t here on some pilgrimage to make their world
better – you’re here to explore and take field notes. And right now?
You’re just trying to get home.
His face falls and he sighs, but doesn’t look surprised. Gently, he
reaches out a hand and plays with the pin on your overcoat.
“When your kin began to arrive, we thought a new era was upon us.
But perhaps this is not that day.” He sighs again and you begin to
feel guilt wash over you, wondering if you should have just said
what he wanted to hear. You’re not given time to dwell as he
continues, “I have not seen your group. But I know who might have.
There’s a raider base not far from here. You can find the details on
the map on the door. But be prepared, the woman who runs that
place is merciless. She will expect her generosity to be returned in
kind.”
He points to the doors where you can see a piece of paper tacked up,
and you also get the sense you’re being told to leave. You pull your
pack on tight and scribble notes onto your map before taking your
leave. The door is shut behind you.
END.

CHAPTER 15
THE URANIUM HEIST
15.1
You smell the raider base before you see it. In this grey wasteland,
stretched out with the tang of death lingering in every nook, the
scent of unwashed bodies sticks out like a sore thumb. You keep as
low to the ground as you can in amidst the rubble of what’s left of
the town – this will be easier if nobody sees you until you’ve scoped
everything out.
This place was once probably bustling with life – neighbours coming
out of their houses to say hello, pedestrians pushing past each other
in a hurry. Now, it’s nearly empty. The only building that isn’t a
hollowed-out shell sits in the middle of the street. Three storeys
high with tall windows taking up most of the front, they’re so
smudged with dirt it’s impossible to see inside. Once, perhaps, there
was a garden on the roof, some sort of way to take in the sun, but
now all that is there is a giant red flag that moves slowly in the wind.
There’s a skull emblazoned on it, trying to warn anyone who comes
near, ‘there are raiders here’.
Next to the flag are two armed guards. They sit on the lip of the roof,
guns slung lazily over their backs. In front of them, on the pavement
before the building’s heavy doors, a man talks animatedly.
He has a cart full of lumpy hessian bags – a looter, probably. A guard
lets out a sigh and waves the man in, and he enters, carefully
avoiding the snarling Rottweiler that they have on the end of a chain
at the front of the building.
You allow yourself a moment to wonder – what did this place used
to be? Some sort of hub of the community, where people would
gather for meetings? Perhaps it was just a nicer house than the ones
by it, the residents gathering ire from other jealous citizens. They’d
probably turn in their graves if they could see what had happened to
it now.
You shake your head. No time for that. They’re dead and buried, and
the raiders are here and a threat.
Search for vantage point – Turn to 15.2, Needs Sharpshooter.
Approach the guard at the door – Turn to 15.3.
Wait and watch – Turn to 15.4.
15.2
You make sure your gun is packed tightly against your body as you
slowly crawl forward, taking the long way round to get to where you
think you will have the best view. Each second seems to last a
lifetime as you make sure you stay close to the shadows, hugging the
edges of broken buildings to sneak into one of the ruined
townhouses a few doors down from the raider base.
Perhaps you are over-worried. The guards don’t seem to be
guarding very well. They’re probably just placed there as a deterrent
for any commoner who gets too big for their boots and wants to
challenge someone – a reminder that raiders have far more power
than they do.
The building you settle in is in surprisingly good shape. At least, the
stairs hold as you ascend them, and the floorboards don’t fall
through with rot as you walk across them. Looking around, it’s just
as you suspected – the whole place has been ripped apart and
looted, so you’re left with the bare bones.
You get as high as you can, finding the attic has been handily left
open and a little ladder can guide you upwards. Though it’s dark up
here, weather has taken its toll on the place and there are a handful
of holes in the roof – perfect for aiming through.
Cleaning up the debris around the edge of the room, you sit down at
the largest hole, carefully peeling away some of the plaster to make
it bigger. You have a good view of the side of the raider’s base.
The windows are still dirt-thickened, but from up here you have a
better vantage point, and the light allows you to see into their
building.
From what you can see, it looks like there are maybe twenty people
inside. Not as many as you expected, but still definitely trouble. It
does seem like the only two guards outside are the ones positioned
on the roof.
The only other thing that draws your attention is a room towards
the top of the building. There appear to be a lot of people there, and
looking through your scope you can tell they have chains around
their necks. They’re making something – you can’t quite tell what –
but there is a raider, tall and burly, standing over them. He has a
whip in his hands which he fingers nastily, grinning at his charges.
Slaves, you think, fighting back the bile in your throat.
You nestle the stock up against your shoulder and put your eye to
the scope. Time to make a shot.
Fire at the slaver – Turn to 15.5.
Fire at the guards on the roof – Turn to 15.6.
15.3
You steel yourself and begin to head towards the raider’s building.
Hopefully they won’t give you any trouble if they see you aren’t
armed. Perhaps you can trick them into thinking you’re a trader
yourself, or looking to get into their gang.
There’s no need to play this violently when you can play this smart.
As they see you approaching, the guards get to their feet. The one on
the left raises his gun and shouts at you, a look of cagey anger on his
face. His partner grips his own weapon and regards you carefully.
The Rottweiler barks wildly, flecks of white spittle fired from
between its sharp teeth.
One of the guards shouts behind him. Another tense moment passes
before the doors at the bottom of the building open. Another raider
walks out, a heavy machete swinging from her belt. She eyes you up
and down before patting you down roughly, checking you’re
unarmed, and more likely than not whether you have anything
worth taking.
“I come in peace.” – Turn to 15.7.
15.4
You manage to skirt your way through the shadows and into one of
the nearby buildings. It’s been turned over – any furniture that was
inside has either been relocated or ripped to pieces. The whole place
smells of damp, and the walls are stricken with mould. It will do for
a place to keep low for the moment; it’s not like you’re planning on
moving in.
You try to make yourself comfortable by sitting on what remains of
an armchair. The window has been mostly blown out, but the inside
of this house is so drenched in darkness it would take an incredibly
keen-eyed guard to spot you… which these ones don’t appear to be,
you decide as one of them picks his nose when the other’s back is
turned.
Time to stake things out.
The next few hours are spent waiting and watching, trying to get
into the groove of the raiders. People come and go. Mostly they seem
to be traders like the two men you saw earlier, humble and
deferential. But some come with a more sinister cargo. You see one
man pull up with another in chains, fighting against him but tired
and
skin rubbed raw under the metal cuffs holding him in place. One of
the guards cocks his gun towards the side of the house and you
notice something you hadn’t before – a cellar door, overgrown with
wild weeds. The slaver takes his charge down into the depths of it
and neither come back out.
As the night draws in the two guards at the door are switched out
for one. The new guard yawns and rubs his eyes. Good. If he’s tired,
he’s slow, and that will make things a lot easier.
Sneak through the cellar – Turn to 15.9.
Rush the door – Turn to 15.12.
15.5
You see the slave driver crack his whip towards one of the chained –
you don’t know what caused it, you can’t hear anything from this
distance, but you see the woman he aimed at recoil in pain. You see
the look of sick satisfaction on his face as he watches.
Bang.
A trail of smoke rises off the barrel of your gun as you quickly bring
it back inside the attic. The glass of the window splinters and falls
into the street below. The slaver clutches a hand to his chest and has
just enough time to notice blood on his palm before he falls to the
ground. The rest of the people in the room look around at each
other, surprised and amazed.
It’s not just them who’ve been alerted, though. The guards at the top
of the building stand to their feet and begin shouting, asking what
just happened, but each as clueless as the other.
Fire at the guards – Turn to 15.11.
15.6
Best to take the easiest shot.
Two bullets scream from your gun, a couple of seconds
apart while you reload. The first guard goes down hard, and his
companion barely has enough time to register it before he’s down,
too. Two less raiders for the world to be worried about.
You don’t have enough time to congratulate yourself because the
shots have brought attention down on you. The building inside
lights up with excitement and you can hear muffled shouts as the
raiders move around, arming themselves. You hope they don’t have
enough guns to arm everyone inside, otherwise this will make things
a lot more difficult.
Hold your ground – Turn to 15.13.
15.7
“Icome in peace!” you shout, holding your hands up to show you
mean no harm. The guard with his weapon trained on you seems
surprised, his eyes narrowed, not sure if he can take you at your
word. But the raider searching you seems happy you aren’t a threat,
turning to them and nodding before addressing you roughly.
“Get inside.”
Before you have a chance to comply, she takes you by the shoulder
and forcefully leads you up the stairs and into the raider base.
The stench is thicker in here. Bathing is clearly a luxury these people
either can’t afford or don’t care for; either way, it reeks. There
doesn’t seem to be any electricity running in the building, so there
are fires set up in metal pots and rubbish bins, thick smoke fogging
up the room. More eyes fall on you, raiders and what seem to be
slaves alike, as you continue this strange parade through their turf.
There’s a little girl standing over a cooking pot in the corner, slicing
carrots diligently and throwing them into the boiling water. You
smile at her. She turns her head away and busies herself with her
work.
You’re led into a large room, the most densely furnished you’ve seen
since… well, since you docked in this strange land. There are
expensive, worn-down bureaus and plush rugs with only a few
bootprints on them. In the middle of the pomp sits a heavily
decorated raider, his body covered in tattoos and gold chains. He’s
in the middle of eating some sort of animal, stripping the flesh from
its carcass with his teeth, when you’re marched in. He studies you
for a moment, grease dripping down his chin and onto his large,
bare chest.
“Didn’t think they had it right. Stranger walking right up to our front
door. Well, what do you want, then?”
Add Grease Stain (F.4) to Map, anywhere you like.
“I want the uranium.” – Turn to 15.14, Needs Note from Dagger.
“I want the uranium. Give it to me, or everyone here will die.” – Turn
to 15.15, Needs Hand-to-Hand Combat.
“I want the uranium. Hand it over and you’ll all walk free.” – Turn to
15.16.
“I want the uranium. Maybe we can trade?” – Turn to 15.28.
Say nothing; instead, leave and poison the food on your way out –
Turn to 15.17, Needs Medicine.
15.8
The raider looks at the badge you sport. She narrows her eyes,
pinching it between her thumb and forefinger and shouting
something at the guards on the roof, something you don’t quite
catch. They shake their heads and she turns back to you.
“Leave.” She uses her machete to gesture along the street, signalling
you to be on your way. Her tone seems to leave little room for
argument but if you don’t get into that building, the uranium deal is
off.
Disarm her – Turn to 15.18.
15.9
The brightest light around here is the dim shine of a fire on the roof.
The guard is warming his hands over it at the moment. There are
some other dull glows in the windows suggesting there are fires
there too, and every now and then, one casts a shadow onto the
windowpane. It seems a lot quieter than it was before.
Now’s your chance.
You step gingerly out of the house, using a door in the back that’s
almost burst off its hinges. Quiet and stealthy is your means of
approach here. Although your eyes have acclimated to the gloom,
you plan every step carefully to avoid treading on any of the debris
scattered around the raider base.
The cellar door isn’t guarded and the lock has long since rusted
through, unreplaced out of laziness. It creaks as it opens and you
wince… but nobody seems to have noticed the indiscretion. You sigh
in relief and slip down the stairs, closing it behind you.
The only thing lighting the cellar is a small flame trapped in an old
lantern. It sits in the middle of the floor, desperately trying to
illuminate the whole place. And the faces of those who are down
here.
People. At least a dozen of them.
You wonder what they’re doing here before you see their hands and
feet are chained to the floor in heavy, iron shackles. Most of them
are asleep, curled in uncomfortable positions. One has opened his
eyes to look at you. It was the man you saw before, the most recently
brought in. The two of you stare each other down for a long moment
until he leans his head back and closes his eyes, either too exhausted
or too apathetic to care that you’re here.
Find the uranium – Turn to 15.20.
Free the prisoners – Turn to 15.21.
15.10
The leader snarls at you, clearly having had enough.
“Get this thing out of my sight. My hospitality is at an end,” he spits.
Before you have time to react, the raider who brought you in grabs
you by the scruff of your neck and hauls you back to the entrance,
kicking you back out onto the street.
She laughs darkly as you land on your hands and knees, skinning
your shin even from under your trousers. You bite back anger and
stare down into the tarmac beneath you. You hate raiders.
END.
If you have Radium (O.27) in your inventory, add Return to the
Base (Chapter 19, L.19) to map.
Go to Return to the base (Chapter 19).
15.11
You don’t give yourself time to breathe, reloading and firing again. It
only takes one bullet – the first guard that you hit staggers back and
grabs out to his comrade for support, but instead tips them both off
balance, and they go plummeting down to the street. You try to
ignore the sick sound of cracking bones as they smash into the floor.
You watch them for a moment. Neither one moves.
The sound of fighting makes you look away from the guards. You
turn back to the room that had previously held the slaver – it’s
empty, but the surrounding rooms aren’t. You can see brawls
breaking out and hear the occasional bullet being fired. Looks like
those who were taken prisoner have started to fight back, you
consider as another body is thrown out a window and lands on the
pavement too.
Enter the building and search for the uranium – Turn to 15.22.
Continue firing – Turn to 15.23.
15.12
You find yourself at the front of the building, heart beating rapidly in
your chest. There’s no time to think before you run up the stairs and
barrel into the doors, shoulder first. They burst open at the impact,
splinters flying into the room with you.
There’s a sharp pain running up your arm, but there’s no time to
worry about that at the moment – you’re met with a pair of guards
who get to their feet, one man and one woman. They appear to be
unarmed, but look angry and surprised.
Behind them, you see what they’ve been stationed to guard.
A room full of loot.
Bags full of unsorted items that traders and other raiders have been
bringing in. Nestled in between everything is a sturdy, foot-long
metal box, with worn out radioactive warnings plastered all over it.
Uranium.
Open fire – Turn to 15.24, Needs Sharpshooter.
Grab the box – Turn to 15.25.
Talk to the raiders – Turn to 15.29.
15.13
The chaos is spiralling wildly out of control. In nearly every window,
you can see fights breaking out and people being maimed or killed.
You feel a sort of satisfaction, knowing you helped liberate these
people. Hopefully they’ll get out and be able to continue on with
their lives after this.
Your eyes are drawn downwards as you spy movement out of the
front doors. There are two raiders running out, spotted in blood,
their arms full of looted goods. Looks like they’re doing the sensible
thing and getting out before they’re taken down by revolting
prisoners, too.
Fire on the runners – Turn to 15.23.
Run into the building – Turn to 15.22.
15.14
“Sent another dog to do her dirty work? What’s she
demanding now?” he spits. He snatches the note from you, getting
grease on your fingers where his hand touches yours. You
surreptitiously wipe your hand on your coat as he reads it.
“Uranium,” he snorts when he’s finished. “And why does she think
she’s entitled to our spoils?” He gives you a long, hard stare.
You feel uncomfortable but try to keep his gaze.
“If you don’t hand it over, all these people will die.” – Turn to 15.15.
Remain silent – Turn to 15.10.
“If it falls into the wrong hands, history will repeat itself.” – Turn to
15.27, Needs Knowledge.
Create a distraction – Turn to 15.26, Needs Chemistry.
15.15
The raider rears back his head and laughs, spitting gristle up into
the air and over himself. His underlings in the room begin to laugh
too, sounding a little unsure but wanting to keep on his good side,
and you hear something behind you – the sound of a gun being
cocked.
You stand your ground. His laughter begins to die down, the
atmosphere growing tense as silence descends upon the room.
Your eyes stay locked on his. He’s got small eyes, the eyes of vulture.
Black. Heartless. The only way to win this is to show you aren’t
scared of him.
Each second seems to last a thousand, but eventually the raider sags
and sighs. He gestures to one of his lackeys with a grease-soaked
hand and barks an order. The man scampers off, leaving you all in
another moment of unbearable quiet before stumbling back into the
room with a box. It’s about a foot long, metal, with faded yellow
radioactive symbols. It’s shoved into your hands and the leader
shoos you, saying nothing else.
The same woman from before grabs your shoulder and steers you
out of the room, back the way you came – out the door and into
the street, giving a rough shove when you get to the stairs. You just
manage to catch yourself to save you from falling over.
“Leave,” she spits at you, then slams the door. You frown at it, but
she’s gone now – you head off back where you came from, angry, a
feeling of deep resentment burning into the back of your head.
END.
Add Uranium (O.9) to your inventory.
Add Return to the Base (Chapter 19, L.19) to map.
Go to Return to the Base (Chapter 19).
15.16
“Walk free?” he parrots, grinning. There are bits of fat hanging off of
his teeth and you try not to reel in disgust. “We’re already free here.
Freer than you’ll
ever be, from your little ship, new-worlder.”
The other raiders around you are growing restless. You don’t think
this tactic will work.
“She has more powerful allies than just me.” – Turn to 15.15.
“It’s far more dangerous than you could imagine.” – Turn to 15.27,
Needs Knowledge.
Create a distraction – Turn to 15.26, Needs Chemistry.
15.17
You decide to bite your tongue. This is getting you nowhere.
You’ll need to take a less direct approach, you consider.
The boss doesn’t like your silence, and his ugly face falls into a
frown. He barks for the woman who brought you to him to take you
back out. You let yourself be led, but as you pass the little girl
cooking, you fake a stumble, landing on your knees, giving yourself
enough time to reach into your coat pocket and snatch a vial of
something dangerous.
The raider woman roughly forces you back to your feet, and in the
commotion you manage to slip it into the boiling pot. Neither she
nor the little girl notices, and you have to hide the smile on your
face.
You’re slung back out onto the street and you make the charade of
skittering away into the ruins. Instead of retreating, you wait, biding
your time until night has fallen for a few hours when you can return
to the building. As you suspected, there are no guards about.
The dog lies dead on its chain, and you step over it into the building.
The hallway is littered with bodies which you have to pick through.
Unfortunately, it looks like you took down raiders and slaves alike.
They lie in defeated heaps, their lips blue, eyes bulging and
bloodshot with terror.
It doesn’t take you long to find where the raiders store their loot.
Nestled in amongst bags of loot is the uranium, in a foot-long box
marked with faded radioactive symbols. You pick it up, taking a
moment to divest some of the bags of their goods. Nobody will be
needing them here now, after all.
As you leave, you see the body of the little girl. In death, her hair is
spread out around her, a little like one of the old-world angels. You
take a moment to regard her before you leave the building for good.
END.
15.18
The woman runs at you but you dodge her, twisting her
weapon from her arm and kicking her to the ground. She screams in
frustration and pain, and the guards on the roof point their weapons
at you. Before they can act, you grab the woman and tussle her
inside the building where two more raiders are sitting.
They look up at you, aghast – they weren’t expecting this to happen,
and they aren’t armed.
You push the blade of the machete into the woman’s throat and it
cuts into her neck as she breathes, a thin trickle of blood running
down her neck.
“I want to speak to whoever’s in charge here,” you state. The guards
exchange looks and point to a door in the corner of the corridor. You
bring the woman with you as leverage, and walk to where they
pointed you.
You end up in a large room, the most densely furnished you’ve seen
since… since you left the vault, at least. There are expensive, worn-
down bureaus and plush rugs with only a few bootprints on them. In
the middle of the pomp sits a heavily decorated raider, his body
covered in tattoos and gold chains alike. He’s in the middle of eating
some sort of animal, stripping the flesh from its carcass with
his teeth. He seems surprised when you enter, but not horrified, and
cocks an eyebrow. Grease drips down his chin and onto his large,
bare chest.
The woman twists out of your grasp suddenly, snarling at you as she
backs away. Now that you’re here, the boss seems happy to talk to
you.
“Can I help?” snorts the man.
Add Grease Stain (F.4) to map anywhere you like.
“I want the uranium. Give it to me.” – Turn to 15.15.
“I want the uranium. We can trade.” – Turn to 15.28.
15.19
With nothing else left to do, you turn on your heel and walk away,
face hot with embarrassment as you hear the guards laughing
behind you. You walk for a while until you feel confident enough to
turn back and look – the guards aren’t even watching you go. They
seem utterly unfazed by your presence. You growl at yourself in
anger, furious you didn’t think this out better.
END.
If you have Radium (O.27) in your inventory, add Return to the
Base (Chapter 19, L.19) to map.
Go to Return to the base (Chapter 19).
15.20
You finish picking through the sleeping bodies and ascend the
unguarded stairs. The base is quiet, and you guess they can’t be
bothered to have guards on the inside, perhaps assuming nobody
would be foolhardy enough to break in.
The place is eerily silent and dark, and it reeks – people in need of a
wash mixed with the heavy scent of smoke, which you can source
from several doused fires in metal bins. It’s a shame. You can see
what the house used to be, the wooden skirting boards and
paintings hung up in now graffitied frames; it would have been
magnificent, under different circumstances.
You search the base quickly and quietly. In one of the rooms, you
find a pile of loot stacked against a wall, lumpy bags of yet to be
unpacked spoils. That’s not what catches your eye though – in the
midst of it is a box, about a foot long. There’s just enough moonlight
filtering in from a high-set window for you to make out the
radioactive warnings etched on it.
Perfect.
You awkwardly load the uranium into your pack and head back the
way you came. You’ll get off scot-free. But as you go, you catch the
eyes of the slave, the one who was brought here earlier. He stares up
at you once again. He looks desperate.
You press a finger to your lips and scurry out the cellar door into the
night.
END.
15.21
You sigh as you go to leave the room. You can’t just leave these
people here to suffer at the hands of these raiders.
Squinting as you try to make things out, you search around for keys
– you find them hanging by the door.
The fucking hubris, you think to yourself.
With the chains, those imprisoned would never be able to reach the
keys on the other side of the room. Their freedom so close and yet so
far away. You grab the key and head back over to the slaves, starting
with the man who saw you. He watches you like a hawk as you
unshackle him, and rubs his wrists when he’s free, unable to quite
believe what’s happening. You go to move onto the next one but he
stops you, gently pulling the key from your grasp and taking over,
nodding – silently saying, go and do what you came here for. I can
handle this.
You return the gesture, steely, and head up the stairs.
The place is eerily silent and dark, and it reeks – people in need of a
wash mixed with the heavy scent of smoke, which you can source
from several doused fires in metal bins. It’s a shame. You can see
what the house used to be, the wooden skirting boards and
paintings hung up in now graffitied frames; it would have been
magnificent, under different circumstances.
You search the base quickly and quietly. In one of the rooms, you
find a pile of loot stacked against a wall, lumpy bags of unpacked
spoils.
That’s not what catches your eye though – in the midst of it is a
small box, about a foot long. There’s just enough moonlight filtering
in from a high-set window for you to make out the radioactive
warnings etched on it.
Perfect.
You awkwardly load the uranium into your pack and head back the
way you came. The cellar is buzzing with energy, everyone now
awake and free of their bonds. They look up as you come in, some
scared, some ready to fight, but relax when they realise you aren’t a
slaver.
You nod to the man you freed, who is waiting at the cellar door.
He reaches out to you as you join him, touching your hand, thanking
you silently.
You throw the doors open and run into the night, the slaves all
following you. You can’t be sure how far they get before there’s the
sound of shouting from the roof and gunshots. You hope the raiders
miss, but you can’t look back now and risk everything.
Dark figures flee silently into the night, you amongst them, as their
former masters scramble to understand their deserved misfortune.
END.

15.22
You barge in through the front door. The scene around you is
chaotic as slaves and masters fight amongst themselves.
You dodge out of the way of a warring pair as their fists find each
other’s faces.
No time to pick sides.
You quickly run from door to door, avoiding fights as you go, until
you find a room full of prizes. Bags of loot sit around and a box in the
middle of them – the uranium. There are also two women, rifling
through the bags to pick out makeshift weapons. One has a shovel,
the other a bat.
You barely have time to react before a large man with a bald head
and tiny eyes runs in, armed with two large machetes. He doesn’t
even seem to notice you, instead lunging at one of the women. He
misses her, his weapon sinking into a hessian bag, and in return she
bites his arm so hard she takes out a chunk of his flesh.
He roars in agony and the second woman stabs into him with the
blade of her shovel. He collapses to the floor as the women brutalise
him, tears of pain and relief streaming down their faces.
You tear your eyes away and grab the uranium before running back
out.
A gunshot rings out as a bullet sends dust flying at your feet.
Standing in the doorway, a masked raider is fumbling to reload his
gun. He raises it again as a group of slaves rush into the room,
barrelling into him. The vanguard of the group tumbles with the
man, knocking him into one of the fires dotted around the place in
heavy metal bins. The pair scramble, screaming, trying to brush the
searing embers from themselves as the rest of the slaves flee.
As you run into the street the slaves split off in different directions.
A gunshot sounds, and then another, and a young man running in
front of you falls, blood spraying from his shoulder like an eruption
of magma. You run and run and run until the sound of panic and
violence has died out to only vague whispers carried on the wind.
You fall to your knees as you catch your breath. You heart pounds.
You wipe the sweat from your brow and realise your face is covered
in blood. You wipe your hand on the grass beneath you as the
remaining blood mixes with your tears.
END.
15.23
You fire and fire at the raiders. With each body that rushes through
the open door, your gun rings out, pushing a single slug into their
flesh. In a matter of moments, the entrance is piled with corpses.
The bloodbath continues until an eerie silence overcomes the area.
You rise from your vantage point, a pool of empty cartridges falling
from your lap, each one matching a body.
You walk cautiously to the building, your gun still raised to your
shoulder. Inside, you see the slaughtered remains of the raiders,
lying peacefully amongst their blood and extinguished fear. Beyond
the entrance, a large shirtless man has propped himself against a
door frame. Blood gushes in short, sharp pulses from his neck as his
chest rises and falls rapidly. Clutched to his chest is a metal box
marked with a faded nuclear symbol. As you pry the item from his
grip he looks up at you, gurgling and spitting blood into your face.
Then, with a wide, red grin his eyes fall shut and the stream from his
neck slows to a halt. Leaving the building, you wipe the blood from
your face with your jacket.
END.

15.24
You whip out your gun and before the men can react, you fire two
shots, hitting the first in the chest and the second in the hip. You
hear movement from a door down the way, and you turn – there is a
large, topless man staring at you, heavily adorned in both jewellery
and tattoos. He sees you standing before the loot and begins to shout
back into the room he just came from –
no doubt orders to lackeys – but you send another bullet flying into
his head before he can finish. His body slumps and blocks the
doorway for anyone else who might try to get out.
You run into the room and grab the box of uranium, holding it in one
hand and your gun in the other as you dash out the building.
There’s gunfire at your feet and shouting that fades as you get
further and further away. You duck behind a wall and disappear into
the ruins of the nearby houses. You keep running, your arms laden
with the uranium, until you’re sure the only sound you can hear is
your beating heart. You slow to a jog, and then a walk, as you realise
you’re alone.
END.

15.25
You push past the guards, who are so surprised they don’t have time
to stop you. Your hands close around the uranium box and one
begins to call out – you swing the box around and silence him with
all the force you can muster, making a loud crack! as it makes
contact. A gobful of teeth and blood flies out of his mouth and he
falls to the ground, bleeding profusely from his face. His partner
holds up his hands, terrified. You leave him be, instead running out
into the street.
You hear shouting from the guards on the roof as you start to make
your escape, but you keep running. There’s gunfire at your feet and
shouting that gets further and further away. You duck behind a wall
and disappear into the ruins of the nearby houses. You keep
running, your arms laden with the box, until you’re sure the only
sound you can hear is your beating heart. You slow to a jog, and then
a walk, as you realise you’re alone.
END.
15.26
You can see this isn’t going to go anywhere, and slowly pull a vial
from your coat pocket. The raiders around you watch curiously,
more interested than scared, and the boss has a look of caution on
his face. This only increases when you whip your respirator on,
hiding your grin underneath.
“Wait!” he shouts, and you’re not sure if it’s to you or his
companions, but he doesn’t have time to finish. You throw the vial to
the ground and it explodes, the small tinkling of glass matched with
a violent flash of sparks and then a thick, bilious fog. It’s noxious,
this smoke, and expands quickly to fill the room and then moves out
the door. The raiders fall into violent coughing fits as you run into
the slowly obfuscated hallway.
It’s difficult to search through the smoke, but you do it anyway.
Eventually, you find what you’re looking for – the uranium is tucked
away in a room of loot. Another time, maybe, you’d explore this
more, but for now you grab the box and run out of the smoke-filled
building.
You tug your respirator off in the clean air and take a moment to
look back at the building. Clouds are billowing from every open
window. You smile to yourself, and think about the miracle of
science.
END.
15.27
With a serious look on your face, you begin to tell the raider
everything you know.
The history of the fallout.
The war.
The weapons that started this all.
The uranium they were made from.
You exaggerate a bit, perhaps, especially when it comes to the way
that radiation poisoning from being too near the chemical only takes
a few days to take hold and warps people into disgusting monsters
with no hair or eyes.
The boss is caught on your every word. He stops eating and pales,
placing his meal to the side. Eventually, he waves a hand to stop you
talking.
“Bring it here,” he says to one of his lackeys, who reluctantly leaves
the room and comes back with a box held at arm’s length.
You hide a smile at how well you told your tale.
You pack the uranium away, and one of the raiders thanks you.
You let them know you’re doing them a service and gravely accept
their thanks, before breezily heading out the door, happy things
went smoother than expected.
END.
15.28
“Trade?” The boss’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Well, tell me what
you have then.”
You put your pack on the ground and rummage
through it, hoping to find something he’ll want.
Turn to 15.30, Needs High Quality Rations OR Jewellery OR
Bear
Tooth OR Morphine OR Tiger Skin OR Tiger Claw.
Turn to 15.15.
15.29
“I’m just here for the uranium,” you say, slowly. “Hand it over and
nobody needs to get hurt.” You puff your chest out and try to look as
intimidating as possible.
They look at you, wide eyed. You suddenly realise how young these
men are, how inexperienced at life they must be. It hurts your heart
a bit. They don’t reply, but they also don’t stop you when you walk
past them into the loot room, picking up the box. They watch you as
you pack it into your bag before you sigh and turn back to them.
“Look. Leave this place. Raiders are bad news, all right? Find
somewhere better.”
The raiders exchange a glance but don’t reply. You give them a sad
smile before running out the door.
END.
15.30
“Isee…” says the boss, turning over your offering in his big, greasy
fingers. He seems happy and then nods to one of the other raiders in
the room, who scurries out before returning with a heavy box
marked with faded nuclear symbols.
“I think we can make this trade, traveller. And if you come across
anything else like this, feel free to return. I’m sure we can hash
something out.” He gives you a wide smile and you smother the urge
to recoil at the fat lodged in his teeth.
You take the box and leave the compound as quickly as you can,
reluctant to hang around for much longer in this filthy place. At least
it’s done now.
END.
Remove one of High Quality Rations, Morphine, Bear Tooth,
Tiger Skin, Tiger Claw OR Jewellery from your character sheet.
CHAPTER 16
THE CELL
16.0
Turn to 16.1a, Needs The Gaoler
OTHERWISE,
Turn to 16.1.
16.1A
The journey back to the cell is just as uncomfortable as last time.
You mentally kick yourself the whole time, wondering how on earth
you got into this situation again. You have no idea how you could be
so stupid.
At least, this time, you know what to expect.
Your captors shove you roughly as you go, seeming to want to try to
trip you with every step. The mistake they made this time was that
they bound your wrists just a little too loosely.
You feel the ground change underfoot and know you’re getting close
to the cell again. You smile to yourself when the bag is taken off of
your head.
The huge, bearded guard obviously recognises you. His eyes squint
for a moment and his brow furrows, but it’s quickly replaced by a
grimace of pain when you slip your hand free and punch him
directly in the face.
He recoils in pain and you bolt.
Your captors are so surprised, they don’t have time to react. You run
away, through the cell and back out into the open. They shout after
you but you don’t stop, running until you’re far away from all of it.
They don’t come after you. They probably think you’re too much
trouble.
END.
16.1
You walk for days. You can’t count them because of the heavy sack
pulled over your head, stifling both your vision and your breathing,
but you can feel the fatigue mauling your body all the way down to
your bones. Your gait is awkward, and you often stumble over
uneven ground – though it all seems to be uneven ground – as your
captors lead you by your wrists.
Eventually, the rough dirt under your soles gives way to gravel, and
then to stone, and then to metal. At least the latter makes it easier to
hear. You prick up your ears as best you can and try to pick up the
sounds of footprints around you. Judging by the clang of boots, you
think there must be at least four other people. Likely all slavers.
At some point, a hand on your shoulder shoves you to the floor.
You don’t expect it and fall hard and fast, your knees colliding
painfully with the ground and sending shockwaves up your legs. You
cry out as the bag is removed from your head.
The light, harsh and electric, temporarily blinds you. It takes several
moments of blinking to try and reorient your vision.
You’re in a squat building. It’s messy, the sides of the rooms full of
bags and boxes containing all sorts of items, certainly things that
have been stolen, given the nature of your imprisoners.
You vaguely realise that the people who brought you here have been
talking, but you aren’t lucid enough to pay attention. What you are
sickly aware of, though, is a large, bearded man coming towards you.
He’s almost twice as big as any of the other slavers you’ve seen,
arms like tree trunks and his neck the same width as his chin.
His grin is full of rotten teeth and his breath stinks as he takes a look
at you.
“Impressive work with this one, lads. Surprised you got ’em here
without a fight.”
He takes your face in his hand and inspects you. You consider
fighting back, but you’re so tired after the travelling that you know it
would be pointless. Instead, you glare at him as he looks you over.
“All right, then. Shove ’em with the others.” Then he turns to you and
that grotesque smile gets even wider. “And I’ll be seeing you later,
chicken.”
Before you can protest, the bag is shoved back over your head and
you’re forced to your feet. The walk isn’t as long this time and you
find yourself going down some stairs – though it’s impossible to tell
where they lead.
You’re pushed forward into something and hear a door clang shut
behind you. No longer feeling the pressure of someone tugging at
your hands, you give it a moment before removing the bag and
flinging it as far away from you as you can.
You’re in a cage. An old, barred cell. Despite its obvious age, the iron
has stood up well to the test of time and you don’t think you can use
brute strength to get out of this.
There are more people in the room. Locked up by their hands and
ankles to bars on the walls. They all look as tired as you feel, and
none of them bother to turn to you.
You wonder why you’re the only one locked in a cage.

Add The Gaoler (E.19) to your character sheet.
Shout for help – Turn to 16.2.
Wait – Turn to 16.3.
Get the attention of another captive – Turn to 16.4.
16.2
You rise to your feet and find they’re bound by cuffs, the same as
your hands. You also notice your ankles and wrists are rubbed red
raw. Gritting your teeth against the pain of moving, you head to the
door of the cell and grip the bars, taking in a deep breath and
beginning to shout for attention.
The sudden calamity makes all the other captives jump and they
finally spare you a glance. A few look sad, others look annoyed at the
noise. You continue to call out as loudly as you can, slamming your
chains against the bars.
“Shut up! ”
You stop, but only out of surprise. The captive closest to your cell
looks angry. He’s in his fifties, with greying hair and a beard. His
chains look almost rusted around him.
“If you make a noise they’ll come and make all our lives a misery,
you idiot,” he hisses. As frustrated as he sounds, you can also sense a
desperation in his voice. He’s seen this situation before.
Continue to shout – Turn to 16.5.
16.3
Your body is tired from the long march and your limbs ache in their
constraints. The best thing you can do right now is to take advantage
of the break. You can come up with a plan later.
You shuffle awkwardly to the corner of the cell and prop yourself up
against the cold, stone wall. It sends a shiver through your body, but
it’s incredibly nice to have something to support yourself against.
You find yourself quickly falling into an exhausted slumber.
It’s impossible to tell how long you sleep, but you imagine if you
were given the choice you would do so for longer. All too soon, a tug
at your restraints shocks you awake.
There’s a slaver in front of you. They’re in black overalls and a mask.
No way to see their face. They place a bowl of food on the floor and
slide it over to you with a foot before leaving and locking the door as
they go.
Examine the lock – Turn to 16.7, Needs Engineering.
Eat – Turn to 16.25.
16.4
You approach the side of the cage awkwardly. The restraints around
your ankles and wrists are chafing, so every step is incredibly
uncomfortable. You fall heavily at the door as close as you can to the
other convicts.
“Hello?”
Only one face turns to yours. He’s a middle-aged man with an
unkempt beard and tired eyes.
“What?” he asks, his voice dripping with exhaustion.
Talk to him – Turn to 16.8.
Point to your shackles – Turn to 16.9.
Pull him close – Turn to 16.10, Needs Hand-to-Hand Combat.
16.5
You ignore the man’s instruction – or warning, perhaps – and
continue to shout. Maybe someone will recognise your voice and
come?
There’s only a thin chance, but you’re desperate.
The sound of your voice echoes throughout the building. The other
prisoners avert their eyes and shuffle as far away from you as they
can. Nobody responds. There’s utter silence apart from your shrieks.
The door to the holding room opens. Taking up the entire door
frame is a woman, large and angry. Her hair is matted and she has
tattoos over her face. There’s a heavy chain in her hands which
swings gently with the motion of her body. Seeing her makes your
mouth snap shut.
She comes over to your cage and you scuttle away, suddenly
realising what a mistake you’ve made, but she opens the door
anyway. You want to try and dart by her but as well as being big,
she’s quick – she snaps out a hand and the hard metal of the chain
connects with the side of your face. You’re dimly aware that you cry
out in pain, but the shock of it is too much and you can already feel
yourself losing consciousness.
The woman raises the chain again and brings it down onto your
head. It wraps around and you feel hard metal knock out one of your
teeth, and you spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor.
You pass out after the third strike.
It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed when you awake.
You’re aching and bloodied, each synapse feeling like someone set
fire to it. You lift your head from the ground and you find a long line
of blood and saliva connects you to a little patch of rust-red drool
where your mouth was. Everything tastes of copper.
There’s a guard stationed at your cage now. His face is covered with
a mask, he has a machete at his side and his arm in a sling. He turns
and looks at you at the sounds of your stirring, and you get a sick
sense of judgement even though you can’t see his face.
Behind him, you notice your pack is on a table. Everything in it has
been taken out and arranged for inspection. It feels strangely
violating, having these people pick apart your life here and stare at
it.
The slaver has opened your cell door. With surprise, you see a bowl
of food being placed before you.
Kick the bowl over – Turn to 16.11.
Accept the food – Turn to 16.12.
Examine his injury – Turn to 16.13, Needs Medicine.
16.6
You ignore the food, despite your rumbling stomach. You don’t want
to take what they give you. The other prisoners eat gladly and, when
they see you choose not to, one of them reaches into your cell and
hooks the bowl out before devouring its contents. They don’t bother
to look at you.
You sit and listen to the sounds of other people eating sloppily,
instead choosing to stare at the stone wall. It feels as if your soul is
leaving your body and you wonder if you’ll be able to get out of here.
“All right then, you sorry bastards. Time for work!” The voice rings
loudly through the room and all the prisoners jump. A huge woman
with face tattoos and a chain wrapped around one hand comes in as
they get to their feet. She unlocks your door and points you to where
the others are leaving the room single file.
“Where are we going?” you ask. She laughs and shoves you after
them with a heavy hand on your shoulder.
“You’ll see, outsider.”
You follow the line of trundling prisoners through the building. A
few times you consider trying to make a run for it but become
exceedingly aware of the heaviness of your restraints. You also have
no idea where to go – best to stick it out for now.
The walk ends when you come to a room full of long wooden
benches. The prisoners sit at them heavily. You find a space and
perch on it, and in front of you is a pile of scrap metal, machinery
and electronics – remnants of the old world. The other captives are
busy pulling the mess apart and untangling the remains into what is
useful or valuable.
“Get to work,” says a guard, shoving you with a heavy hand. You sigh
and begin to sort through the pile.
It’s tiring work and it goes on for hours. Talking between captives is
discouraged via corporal punishment, so everything is done in
silence.
And that’s how it goes.
For days.
Your fingers feel raw from the endless sorting. You wake, you work,
you sleep, dragging your tired and stiff body to the cells where
you’re chained before you can settle down for the night. In the
mornings, you try to enjoy the shaft of sunlight coming in through
the window, letting it warm your bones.
It’s around day ten when a horrifying thought strikes you.
Your team has been moving all this time. They probably thought you
were lost to the storm. They must be well under way with their
plans to return to the vault, and when they do? You’ll be lost to this
cruel, old world.
The realisation fills you with dread. A panicked constriction grips
your chest and you breathe heavily. Nobody is going to come for
you. You’re going to have to get out of here yourself.
Strength in numbers – Turn to 16.14.

Go out with a bang – Turn to 16.15, Needs Chemistry.
Stealth is key – Turn to 16.16.
16.6A
Belly full but churning, you sit and listen to the sounds of other
people eating sloppily, instead choosing to stare at the stone wall. It
feels as if your soul is leaving your body, and you wonder if you’ll be
able to get out of here.
“All right then, you sorry bastards. Time for work!” The voice rings
loudly through the room and all the prisoners jump. A huge woman
with face tattoos and a chain wrapped around one hand is getting
them to their feet. She unlocks your door and points you to where
the others are leaving the room single file.
“Where are we going?” you ask. She laughs and shoves you after
them with a heavy hand on your shoulder.
“You’ll see, outsider.”
You follow the line of trundling prisoners through the building. A
few times, you consider trying to make a run for it but become
exceedingly aware of the heaviness of your restraints. You have no
idea where to go – best to stick it out for now.
The walk ends when you come to a room full of long wooden
benches, which the prisoners sit at heavily. You find a space and sit
down, only to find yourself in front of a pile of scrap metal,
machinery and electronics – remnants of the old world. The other
captives are
busy pulling the mess apart and untangling the remains into what is
useful or valuable.
“Get to work,” says a guard, shoving you with a heavy hand. You sigh
and begin to sort through the pile.
It’s tiring work and it goes on for hours. Talking between captives is
discouraged via corporal punishment, so everything is done in
silence.
And that’s how it goes.
For days.
Your fingers feel raw from the endless sorting. You wake, you work,
you sleep, dragging your tired and stiff bodies to the cells where
you’re chained before you can settle down for the night. In the
morning you try to enjoy the shaft of sunlight coming in through the
window, letting it warm your bones.
It’s around day ten when a horrifying thought strikes you.
Your team has been moving all this time. They probably thought you
were lost to the storm. They must be well under way with their
plans to return to the vault and when they do? You’ll be lost to this
cruel, new world.
The realisation fills you with dread. A panicked constriction grips
your chest and you breathe heavily. Nobody is going to come for
you. You’re going to have to get out of here yourself.
Strength in numbers – Turn to 16.14.
Go out with a bang – Turn to 16.15, Needs Chemistry.
Stealth is key – Turn to 16.16.
16.7
You crawl over to the door, your restraints loud and noisy as you
drag them. Thankfully, the other prisoners don’t seem to be
bothered about looking at you. In fact, they seem to be willing you to
disappear, a nasty interruption in their usual routine.
Part of you can’t blame them; it’s impossible to tell how long they’ve
been down here, but part of you is angry – why not fight? Why
accept this so easily?
The lock is heavy and large, but that works to your advantage. A big
lock means it’s easier to pick. And this one? Well, it’s surprisingly
simple for a lock on a cage door. Only a single heavy tumbler inside
to keep it shut.
“Has anyone got a bobby pin?”
Your voice makes the other prisoners jump. Some of them again try
to ignore you, but one keeps staring at you. A girl, probably a
teenager, with bruises all over her face. The two of you share a long
look before she reaches into her ragged hair and pulls out a single
clip. She puts it on the floor and slides it over to you.
It’s misshapen. You guess she’s probably tried this exact same thing
before.
Wait for night to fall – Turn to 16.17.
Free the others – Turn to 16.18.
16.8
“What do you want?” he asks, regarding you through
narrowed eyes.
“Where am I?” you ask, and he laughs tersely.
“Raider prison camp. We work or they kill us. You’re an outsider,
right? They’ll probably be looking for a buyer for you.”
That makes your blood run cold. It must show on your face, because
he laughs again.
“Now keep it down. I don’t want to get the shit kicked out of me
because you couldn’t shut your mouth.”
Shout for attention – Turn to 16.5.
Wait until morning – Turn to 16.3.
16.9
“Yeah, same as all of us. Not all of us get a cage, though.
You must be something special. You’re an outsider, right?”
“Yes.”
“They’ll be looking for a buyer for you, then.”
That makes your blood run cold. He laughs at the expression on
your face.
“Best way to get through this all is keep your head down. Work
when they tell you to work. Sleep when they tell you to sleep. And
don’t cause a fucking fuss.”
He closes his eyes and settles back against the cold, stone wall, done
with you.
Shout for attention – Turn to 16.5.
Wait until morning – Turn to 16.3.
16.10
You gesture for him to come over. The man rolls his eyes but takes
pity on you, doing his best to move quietly but not completely able
to disguise the way his chained ankle drags across the floor.
As soon as he’s come as far as his chains allow, you lunge, throwing
your own chains out and wrapping them around his neck.
He lets out a strangled shriek as you pull him close, which turns into
a scream as you hold his squirming body close to the bars and choke
him. Some of the other captives rise to their feet to try to help, some
watch on in horror, and still the man struggles.
Then, the door to the holding room opens. Taking up the entire door
frame is a woman, large and angry. Her hair is matted and she has
tattoos over her face. There’s a heavy chain in her hands which
swings gently with the motion of her body.
You drop the man. He clutches his neck and tries to breathe, choking
wildly on the floor.
She comes over to your cage and you scuttle away, suddenly
realising what a mistake this has been, but she opens the door
anyway. You want to try and dart by her, but she’s quick as well as
being large – she snaps out a hand and the hard metal of the chain
connects with the side of your face. You’re dimly aware of the fact
you cry out in pain, but the shock of it is too much and you can
already feel yourself losing consciousness.
The woman raises the chain again and brings it down onto your
head. It wraps around and you feel hard metal knock out one of your
teeth, and you spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor.
You passed out after the third strike.
It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed when you awake.
You’re aching and bloodied, each synapse feeling like someone set
fire to it. You lift your head from the ground and find a long line of
blood and saliva connects you to a little patch of rust-red drool
where your mouth was. Everything tastes of copper.
There’s a guard stationed at your cage now. His face is covered with
a mask, he has a machete at his side, and his arm in a sling. He turns
and looks at you when he hears you stirring, and though you can’t
see his face, you get a sick sense of judgement.
Behind him, you notice your pack is on a table. Everything in it has
been taken out and arranged for inspection. It feels strangely
violating, having these people pick apart your life here and stare at
it.
The slaver has opened your cell door. With surprise you see a bowl
of food being placed before you.
Kick the bowl over – Turn to 16.11.
Accept the food – Turn to 16.12.
Examine his injury – Turn to 16.13, Needs Medicine.
16.11
You stick out a leg and topple the bowl over. Grey porridge spills
over the floor and settles into the cracks in the stonework flooring.
The guard stares at you. You can’t see his face, but you can hear the
sound of a growl emerge from behind the mask. He squats to the
overturned bowl and picks it up, rising slowly to his feet. He spits at
the ground, saliva dripping out from where his face is covered, and
he slings the bowl at your head. It glances your cheek and sends a
sharp pain across your already bruised and bloodied face.
A day goes by. You lie on the floor in agony. The sun rises and sets,
and you don’t move.
The next day the man comes back, flanked by two other guards.
He puts another bowl of food down in front of you. Mustering up all
your effort you turn away from the offering, ignoring it.
You hear the crack of knuckles and then feel yourself being brought
up from the floor. A swift punch to the stomach winds you, and you
black out.
The next day is the same. And the next.
Each day, you emerge from a bleary-eyed semi-consciousness to see
the men standing above you.
Each day you refuse to eat.
Each day they beat you.
Each day you endure the pain.
It goes on like this. You aren’t lucid enough to tell for how long.
But one day, you find yourself being dragged out of your cell by the
ankles.
You squirm in half-hearted resistance as another bloody sack is
shoved over your head and you’re lifted onto a shoulder. You feel
yourself being carried. You think maybe they’re finally going to kill
you, and feel a strange relief at that thought.
You hear quiet, muffled talking at some point. You catch the words
“too much bother” but can’t make anything else out.
You like the idea of being too much of a bother for the raiders.
You wonder if Gaia would be proud of your gumption.
Suddenly, you find yourself on the ground. Not the stone floor of the
cell – you can feel rain on your skin.
There’s silence for a while, and eventually you take off the bag.
You’re outside. You can see some sort of base in front of you, a
raider guard is there, and she gestures for you to be on your way
with the wave of a knife. Next to you lies your pack, a couple of bits
left over that they didn’t want but nearly completely empty.
You assume they put you out here to die, a warning to other slaves
of what would happen if they disobeyed.
You are nothing if not stubborn.
You force yourself to your feet and wearily put one foot in front of
the other, grabbing your pack from the ground. You’re barely
conscious and yet somehow you find the strength to keep going,
trudging until you can’t see your prison any more.
You collapse by a lake. You drink the water from it. You’re sure it’s
dirty but it tastes delicious. Starving, you dig worms out of the
ground who have come up with the rain, wriggling and pink, and
suck them down.
It takes a while to get your strength back. You scavenge for roots
and water. You fill up your pack with what provisions you can.
And then, you have to try to find your group.
END.
Add Instability to your character sheet twice.
Remove all objects from your inventory.
If you have either of the Chemistry, Medicine, or Sharpshooter
specialities, replace it with the Survival speciality.
16.12
You eat the food gratefully. It’s a thick, tasteless, lumpy porridge, but
you’re so exhausted it may as well be milk and honey. You slurp it
down quickly and the man watches you carefully, taking the bowl
away when you’re done licking it clean.
You aren’t bothered for the rest of the day, but on the next, you’re
brought more food and a bucket of warm water. The slaver nods
towards it as if to say go ahead. You don’t need telling twice, using it
to wash your wounds and clean the dried blood and grime from
your body. You run the water through your matted hair and the
warmth fills you with life. It’s amazing how revitalised you can feel
after a quick wash.
This day passes the same as the last. You aren’t bothered again,
instead you’re left in your cage. The other prisoners don’t make eye
contact with you, perhaps jealous of your special treatment, which
you guess is because you’re an outsider.
On the fifth day, after the comparatively kind treatment you’ve been
given, the slaver makes you get to your feet. He unchains you and
pushes you out of the room by a hand to the shoulder.
You’re led through the building. It’s surprisingly large, but you
suppose you haven’t seen that much of it so far, only the inside of a
cell and the first holding building. You’re so caught up in your

thoughts that when you’re shoved through a door, it’s a complete
shock. You land on your hands and knees and wince before looking
around you.
It must be some sort of arena. There are raiders on all four sides,
watching you from above roughly constructed wooden walls. They
observe from the viewing platform, jeering, shouting, and drinking
from ceramic jugs.
Opposite you, a man walks out from another door. He’s wearing a
mask, but his body is tall and covered with muscle, painted a
crimson red; you hope it’s paint, and not the alternative.
He raises his hand and the crowd cheers, then looks at you with
fierce eyes. You feel a shudder of horror run through you. They want
you to fight.
Keep your distance – Turn the 16.19.
Attack aggressively – Turn to 16.20.
16.13
You notice the man is moving his arm, slowly and
deliberately, as if anything too fast causes him pain. There’s a large
lump on his shoulder.
“What happened to your arm?” you ask as you take the food. You
notice a couple of prisoners look over to you with shock, but don’t
say anything.
“What’s it to you?” spits the slaver.
“I’m a medic. Look over at my pack, you’ll see my first aid kit. I was
wondering if you wanted me to help.”
The slaver pauses. You have his interest.
“Why’d I trust you, prisoner?”
“Because I could do what? Run away?” You jangle your chains.
The slaver looks at you for a long moment, before grabbing the
machete at his belt.
“You try anything and you’re dead, all right?” he states. You don’t
doubt that for a second. Gingerly you inspect the arm and decide it’s
only dislocated, not broken, so a simple fix.
“I’m going to pop it back into place, but it’s going to hurt, all right?”
He nods carefully. As quickly as you can, you grab his arm and twist,
putting the joint back into its proper place. He gives a grunt of pain
but then experimentally moves his arm, pleased with the result.
He doesn’t thank you, of course, but he does leave you alone for the
rest of the day. You take the time to try to recover more from the
journey here, sleeping as much as you can.
You’re awoken in the middle of the night by the sound of keys
jingling. Blearily, you open your eyes and see the guard again, but
this time he has company. A younger man is clutching onto him for
support, his leg gashed open bloodily. Your door is opened and the
slaver brings you this new patient, who’s groaning in discomfort.
“He’s been shot,” you’re told by way of explanation. You sigh and
point for him to bring you your medical kit, which he does with
bloodied hands.
“Hold his arms,” you say, bringing out a roll of bandages and placing
it in the young man’s mouth for him to bite down on. You wipe the
blood from the wound and bring out your forceps, trying to pin
down his leg as best you can before digging inside the open flesh.
The prisoners wake with the sound of muffled screams at every
movement you make, no matter how small. The other slaver, to his
credit, is a good assistant and keeps the patient as still as he can
with his powerful body. Digging around, you close the forceps over
something foreign and bring out your prize – a small piece of
sharpened metal, almost like an arrowhead, shining and covered in
velvet-red gore. You throw it all to the floor and retrieve your suture
tools, beginning the process of closing the wound.
The other slaver is speaking softly to the younger man. He’s panting
heavily, the shock of the pain having worn off. He still winces slightly
as your needle goes through his flesh, but seems to be far better off
than when he came in.
“Keep it clean. You’re lucky you came to me. If you didn’t, it might
have gone septic,” you state, taking the bandages from the young
man’s mouth and wrapping the wound with them. The older slaver
nods, as close to a thanks as you’re likely to get, before helping the
patient to his feet and out of the door, locking it behind him.
As they leave, the silence overwhelms you. A few prisoners watch
you with surprise, but you can’t be bothered to answer to them.
Instead, you lie back against the stone wall, look down at your
bloodied hands, and let sleep overtake you.
The next day passes without incident, but that evening, you hear the
sound of keys again. You sigh and wonder who you’ve been brought
this time but find yourself being pulled to your feet and hurried out
of the cage. It takes a moment to blink the sleep from your eyes and
your brain, but you find you’re being stolen away by the raider in
the mask. He has your pack on one shoulder and guides you deeper
into the building, coming to an empty room – an empty room with a
hole in the wall to the outside. He undoes your restraints, and they
fall to the ground with a loud clang.
“What?” is all the question you can summon.
“You helped me and my boy. This is a favour in turn. Don’t let them
catch you,” he states, shoving your bag and a map into your hands
and leaving you. You don’t need to be told twice, and put your arms
through the straps and run into the night. You don’t stop running
even when your lungs begin to burn, instead going as hard and fast
as you can to get as far away as possible.
END.
Add Bloody Shrapnel (F.16) to your notebook.
Add The City Centre (Chapter 13, L.13) and The Battlefield
16.14
The next day, you take your usual spot at the bench. As the day
passes you look up at a young woman opposite you.
Her hair is cropped short and her eyes are a rich, deep brown. You
make eye contact with her a few times – enough so that she knows it
can’t be coincidence your eyes keep meeting. Each time, she looks at
you for a moment before returning to her work.
Eventually, you hold her gaze for long enough to glance down at the
screwdriver beside her. She looks at it and then back to your face.
With a subtleness invisible to anyone not watching your work, you
nod slowly and go back to sorting.
Her expression unchanging, she continues her work. She picks up
the tool and unscrews a fan before placing it carefully into the folds
of cloth in her lap.
Long moments pass and you keep the guards in your sight as much
as possible. When a knock at the door comes you know it’s your
chance. Your overseers walk over, past you, and with a swift
movement the woman drops the screwdriver into your own lap. The
other captives around the table look at you with knowing glances.
There’s a hum of something in the air between the group of you.
Attack now – Turn to 16.21.

Wait for nightfall – Turn to 16.22.
16.15
The next day you return to your work with a plan percolating in
your eager and excited mind. The morning’s work passes, as it
always does. Each piece of machinery before you is stripped of its
precious metals and working parts, before the rest is heaped into a
pile of scrap at the end of the room to be hauled to some unknown
location in the night.
As you work, the rust falls and collects around your workspace, as it
always does. Today, however, you push the fallen flakes and
granules into a small pile to your side.
Midday passes and you stand to heap more waste onto the scrap
pile. Nobody notices you bring back a tangle of copper wires, nor a
pinch of powdered aluminium from another captive’s workload. As
you return to your work, you allow the powder to fall from your
hand, mixing into the rust.
You wait. More hours pass as you bide your time, waiting for the
perfect opportunity to come. In the afternoon, a slaver places an old
heating element before you and you quickly get to work. Even
though the mechanism is ancient, firmly pre-war, you recognise the
outdated spark ignitor.
Carefully unscrewing the heater from its mounting panel, you turn
the machine on its side. You quietly sweep the rust and aluminium
into its metal body and activate the switch. With great delight, you
feel the buzz of a still-operating battery as you wave your hand to
the guard to indicate you are finished. He walks over to collect your
scrap. As he awkwardly picks up the heap of metal you feel your
heart pounding in your chest as he walks towards the scrap pile.
Your bomb is heating... heating slowly... and then, BANG! – it
explodes in the guard’s hands.
A flash of brilliant white light erupts and he screams in terror.
Droplets of molten metal burst out across the floor and the man’s
body as he falls backwards, writhing in pain. In a moment the horror
is over, and the captives rise quickly to their feet. Acrid smoke and
the smell of burned flesh fills the room as you run and begin to
smash down the door. It takes a few rough shoves, and a couple of
other prisoners help, but when the hinges finally give way the door
falls to the floor with a heavy crash.
The panicked and fearful prisoners pour from the room with the
smoke, spreading out in chaotic uncertainty. You keep your head
down and run back to the holding cell, a route which you’ve
memorised – nobody’s there, thankfully, and you grab your pack.
You can hear the sound of gunshots ringing out. You run back into
the corridor, wild and fast, until you come to a window. Outside, you
can see prisoners fleeing for their lives. A rough shove frees the
glass from its pane and you clamber outside to freedom, landing
heavily on the grass. Then you run. You run and you run, ignoring
the chaos behind you, going until your legs burn and your lungs are
on fire from the effort, until your prison is nothing more than a dark
cloud on the horizon behind you.
END.
16.16
You bide your time. There’s no point rushing this. If you play it
messily, you die. There aren’t any second chances.
The next day, you get lucky. You’re at the workbench, sorting
through piles of mess. Your fingers are red raw, but you keep going.
There’s a knock at the door. The other captives, conditioned by fear,
keep their work up as your guard leaves his stool to answer it, but
you swipe a file from off the table up your sleeve.
The woman across from you with cropped hair watches you, making
knowing eye contact but saying nothing.
The guard returns and so does the routine, but your heart is in your
mouth. That evening, you wait for the other prisoners to fall asleep
before getting to work, taking the file out and finding the weakest
link in your shackles. You’re lucky to find one far more worn than
the others, old and crudely made. You begin to file it down. The
work is slow and exhausting, and you have to work to match the
scratching sound to the noises of heavy breathing and snores.
When it breaks, it falls away, as do the chains keeping you tethered.
You shake yourself free and massage your sore ankles.
Your cell door is open. They’ve become complacent with you, clearly
thinking you’re no threat when kept in place by the restraints.
You push it open and creep out, grabbing your pack that’s been kept
by your cell. You think you’re home free when you feel a hand on
your leg.
It’s the woman that saw you get the file. She’s looking at you,
desperately. With a nod, you push it into her hands. She nods back,
thanking you, and begins to file her own chains away.
You sneak into the corridor, moving each foot as quietly as possible.
You come to a window with a view of the outside. It’s small, but you
open it and force yourself to contort your way out, landing heavily
with your pack onto the grass below.
Then you run. You run before anyone can see you. You run and run
until you can’t see the base any more, past the point of pain in your
lungs, into freedom.
END.
16.17
Night falls. Everyone sleeps, everyone but you; you sit awake in
nervous sickness and watch the moon. When you’re sure there’s
absolute quiet, you twist the bobby pin into the right shape with
your teeth. It only takes a few deft movements and you feel the sole
tumbler of the lock fall into place. It pops open. You easily do the
same with the shackles around your arms and legs. They fall to the
cold, stone floor – a man’s breathing hitches at the sound but then
continues gently, mostly uninterrupted.
You think you’re home free when you feel a hand on your leg.
It’s the woman who gave you the pin. She’s looking at you,
desperately. With a nod, you push the pin into her hands, now the
right shape for her to use. She returns the gesture, thanking you, and
begins to work at her own chains.
You sneak into the corridor, moving each foot as quietly as possible
until you come to a window with a view of the outside. It’s small, but
when it’s open you manage to contort your way out of it, landing
heavily with your pack onto the grass below.
Then you run. You run before anyone can see you. You run and run
until you can’t see the base any more, past the point of pain in your
lungs, into freedom.
END.
16.18
You twist the bobby pin into the right shape with your teeth. It only
takes a few deft movements before you feel the sole tumbler of the
lock fall into place.
It pops open.
You easily do the same with the shackles around your arms and legs.
They fall to the cold, stone floor.
You rush out and get to your knees in front of one of the other
prisoners. They watch you with surprise but let you do your work,
freeing them with a few quick and clever movements. It takes only a
few minutes to get all the prisoners free.
A man opens the door to the cell and is visibly relieved to find the
corridor empty. He gestures for everyone to follow him, which you
do after grabbing your pack. Your little escape group keeps
travelling until you find a window in the corridor with a view to the
outside. It’s tight, but likely that you could all fit through it.
The prisoners open the window as far as it will go and begin to
climb out, people helping each other with leg-ups and shoving. Then
you hear a shout. A guard has come across you and is beginning to
sound the alarm. You’re about to go after him but are stopped – the
older man from the cell shakes his head and points to the window,
telling you to go, before running at the guard and tackling him to the
ground. You don’t need telling twice and haul yourself up and out of
the building.
As you run with the other prisoners, you hear the sound of gunshots.
You see a man go down beside you in a spray of red, but you keep
going, not stopping even when your lungs feel fit to burst.
You run until nightfall, and only then do you allow yourself to
collapse. You lie on the ground and stare up at the stars. You’re on
your own by now, far separated from the other prisoners, who
scattered. A smart move. Makes it impossible to come after all of
you.
You shut your eyes and feel the cool air. It’s refreshing. You’ll never
complain about the wind again.
END.
16.19
You stand with your back close to the arena wall. The figure prowls
around you like a wild beast, rolling his shoulders as if getting ready
to lunge. You match every step he takes and the two of you end up
circling each other, carefully and deliberately, waiting for any sign of
weakness, any opportunity to strike.
Suddenly, he darts, swiping low, and you dodge to the side – he
doesn’t stop, striking again and aiming for your face. You manage to
avoid it again, and as you do so you swing your elbow hard into the
side of his neck. The force of the strike throws him off balance and
he stumbles backwards, placing his weight on his back foot.
That’s all the invitation you need.
He raises his fists to protect his face but you go low and sweep his
feet out from under him. He falls to the ground and you jump on top
of him. Pinning him down with the full extent of your weight, you
rain punches onto his face. His struggle eventually ceases and you
begin to ease your assault.
The crowd around you is going wild. They shout and scream, louder
and fiercer than when the fight began, baying for blood and
destruction. It seems like they don’t really care who wins, so long as
someone dies. Revelling in their shouts, you step up from the floor,
raise your arms, and they roar in appreciation – you reach down to
pluck the man’s mask off and hold it aloft.
And then you see the face beneath it. Despite the muscles, you see
the face of a boy. He looks no older than sixteen, with wide eyes,
looking at you in stunned terror. The noise of the crowd fades and
you feel your heart beating in time with his shallow breaths.
Finish him – Turn to 16.23.
Help him up – Turn to 16.24.
16.20
With purposeful and deliberate movements, the two of
you slowly circle the arena. Each motion is calculated, both
examining the other for a sign of weakness, any opening to be
exploited.
He places his right foot to the side, shifting his weight in one smooth
and fluid motion. Your mirrored dance continues, and the crowd
grows restless at the lack of bloodshed – until you quickly change
the direction of your movement. His step fumbles in response and
you take this as your opportunity.
You rush, leading with your shoulder, and collide harshly. The two
of you crash to the ground and you’re winded from the force of
impact. Your full weight lying on top of him, he squirms and tries to
break free, landing a single punch across your chin, breaking the
fragile skin of your bottom lip. You raise your fist, but he locks his
legs around you, keeping his ankles together, and squeezes you with
his thighs hard. He uses one arm to grab your neck and the other to
throw sharp-knuckled punches into your ribcage.
You’re worried – his hold on you is firm. You can’t see any way to
force him away from you, and the noise of the crowd is deafening.
Desperately, you open your mouth and reach forward, clamping
down on whatever you can find – you feel flesh between your teeth
and a quick inspection with your tongue makes you realise you have
his ear.
You clamp down until you can feel your teeth meet and rip your
head back. He wasn’t expecting it, and doesn’t have time to put up
any resistance. You feel the sinew and flesh rip away from his face
and your mouth is splashed with the taste of blood. The sound is
horrible, like fabric tearing.
You spit his ear off to the side and the crowd roars in approval.
The shock of the pain is enough to make him let go of you as both his
hands go to his ear in agony. You get to your feet and raise your
hands in triumph. The spectators love it, cheering the word
‘outsider’
wildly. High on adrenaline, you reach down and pluck off your
opponent’s mask.
Then you see the face beneath it. Despite the muscles, you see the
face of a boy. He looks no older than sixteen, with wide eyes, looking
at you in stunned terror. The noise of the crowd fades and you feel
your heart beating in time with his shallow breaths.
Finish him – Turn to 16.23.
Help him up – Turn to 16.24.
16.21
Continuing with your work, you wait for the perfect moment to
strike, all the time exchanging lightning-fast glances with the people
around you. In those fleeting moments, you gain a sense of knowing
anticipation from your fellow captives.
Unnoticed by the guard, you work in silent communion, a secret
wave of eagerness binding you all.
At the end of the table, a young man finishes his work and carries his
collection of scrap and components to the shelves at the end of the
room. As he does so, another captive stands to carry more work to
his spot, and as she passes she catches your eye and holds your gaze
for a moment. It’s a signal. You reach down for the screwdriver in
your lap and the woman stumbles on purpose, dropping her scrap to
the floor in a loud clatter.
The guard frowns and gets to his feet immediately, crossing over to
her with a hand on the whip he uses so freely. As he draws near, you
jump from the bench, leading with the screwdriver like a rapier,
plunging the metal deep into the soft flesh of his neck. You drive the
tool in to its handle until you feel a snap, the tough membrane of his
throat popping under your force. His head jerks back and judders as
a pulse of warm blood spurts out, trickling down your tightly
gripped
fist. He coughs and gurgles before collapsing to the floor in a heap.

The rest of the captives rise to their feet around you. The eldest, a
grey-haired woman, begins to rifle through the guard’s pockets for
the key. In a short time, your chains are unlocked and the captives
all swarm the door.
Within moments the building is in chaos as the prisoners run
through the rooms and halls, searching for a path to freedom.
Guards are being knocked to the floor and trampled. You make an
effort to run back to the holding cell to gather up your pack, which
you’re lucky is still there waiting for you. You strap it on and head
back into the fray.
It takes a while of following the other captives to find the door.
You follow them through it, into the cold of the old world, beckoning
your salvation. You sprint across the newly snow-covered ground,
ignoring the sound of gunshots ricocheting past you, forcing your
legs onwards. You think other captives go down around you, but you
don’t stop to look – you keep going, onwards, until the slaver camp
is nothing but a speck in the distance.
END.
16.22
The pace of the work day continues unbroken. As has
happened for many days now, the captives strip away the scrap
before them, extracting value for their current overlords. All the
time, the weight of the screwdriver sits heavily in your lap. When
the workday ends, you subtly slide it from its resting place and into
your sleeve. The guard doesn’t notice.
Night falls when you’re locked in your cage. You don’t sleep.
Instead, you wait for the telltale sounds of steady breathing and get
to work, forcing the screwdriver into the lock and forcing it open.
Luckily for you, they’re either old or badly made, because it takes
only a few moments to spring yourself free. The restraints fall to the
cold stone floor – a man’s breathing hitches at the sound but then
continues gently, mostly uninterrupted. You grab your pack, luckily
still in the room with you, and head to the door.
You think you’re home free when you feel a hand on your leg.
It’s the woman who got you the tool in the first place. She’s looking
at you, desperately. With a nod, you push the screwdriver into her
hands. She nods back, thanking you, and begins to pick away at her
own chains.
You sneak into the corridor, moving each foot as quietly as possible.
You come to a window with a view of the outside. It’s small, but it
opens and you force yourself to contort your way out of it, landing
heavily with your pack on the grass below.
Then you run.
You run before anyone can see you. You run and run until you can’t
see the base any more, past the point of pain in your lungs, to
freedom.
END.
16.23
You step towards the boy as he squirms away from you. His soft blue
eyes are wide with fear. But he’s exhausted and no match for you
when you place your foot at his neck. His hands reach up to
desperately claw at your leg, but he’s weak and, frankly, it’s pitiful.
You push the heel of your boot down into his neck until you feel a
sickening crunch beneath your sole as his throat tears and breaks.
His face turns a crimson colour, his eyes bulge, his body flails wildly
– and then he goes still as you finish the deed.
The crowd cheers and applauds. You feel a hand on your back and
you’re guided out of the arena. You don’t pay much attention as you
go, letting yourself be shown the way, the image of the boy’s dying
face etched into your vision every time you close your eyes.
You feel the cold on your skin and look around. You’re outside.
Your pack is being shoved into your hands. You look at the slaver in
front of you who’s watching you with worried eyes.
“Looks like the boss thinks you’re too dangerous to keep around.
Now fuck off before someone shoots you,” you’re told before he
turns and leaves. You stand in the fresh snow. When you walk, one
of your boots leaves blood-red marks in the unstained white, until

the blood has been washed away.
END.
16.24
You stand silently above the boy before offering a hand. He
hesitates, eyes it cautiously, before he takes it slowly in his own. You
pull him roughly to his feet and you stand, eye to eye, for a moment.
The crowd boos as the two of you are forced apart, dragged
separately through opposite doors.
You’re dragged back to your cell and thrown in roughly. One of the
guards kicks you as you go, clearly unhappy with your display.
His boot is sharp in your ribs and you grunt as you’re locked back
up.
The other prisoners shuffle back in from wherever they spend the
day and are chained as the evening comes. As usual, no words pass
between you before everyone drifts off to sleep.
You’re awoken by the sounds of keys that evening. You stir and in
your sleepy haze, you worry you’re going to be dragged away to
fight again, but instead find yourself being pulled to your feet and
hurried out of the cage. It takes a moment to blink the sleep from
your eyes and your brain, but you find yourself being stolen away by
the boy from the ring. He has your pack on one shoulder and guides
you deeper into the building, coming to an empty room – an empty
room with a hole in the wall to the outside. He undoes your

restraints and they fall to the ground with a loud clang.
“What?” is all the question you can summon.
“You showed me an act of kindness, outsider. This is a favour in turn.
Don’t let them catch you,” he states, shoving your bag and map into
your hands and leaving you. You don’t need telling twice, and put
your arms through the straps and run into the night. You don’t stop
running even when your lungs begin to burn, instead going as hard
and fast as you can to get as far away as possible.
END.
16.25
Your stomach lets out a loud growl and you realise just how hungry
you are. You almost dive at the bowl of food and shovel it into your
mouth with your hands. It’s hard to tell what it is, maybe some sort
of thick, flavourless porridge, but you eat every scrap and then lick
the bowl clean.
You feel pathetic being grateful to your captors for these scraps.
The food churns inside you, your belly used to being empty and not
sitting well with the influx.
Turn to 16.6a.
CHAPTER 17
THE LIBRARY
17.0
Turn to 17.1a, Needs Old World Language.
Turn to 17.1.
17.1
It seems odd to be in a place with so many people after all this time.
You’ve got used to travelling alone. But now, you’re truly in the city
centre. All sorts of people come and go around you, from the elderly
using sticks to keep them upright, to children laughing and shoving
each other out of the way. It’s nice to see that these people have
adapted to life after the war.
The true epicentre of the city is a great, ancient building, what you
know to be the library. The greenery around it seems to be slightly
more well kept; the trees have been trimmed so they don’t brush
against its great windows, and there are some pretty flowers
planted outside the front. It has still become a victim to moss,
though, and patches of green and brown are making their home in
the mortar. They sprawl and form chaotic patterns amongst the
heavy cracks and pitted stone.
There is a sign above the doorway that looks like it was once
lettered in gold, but the colour has been lost to time. One day,
perhaps someone will come back and repaint it.
You step inside the open doors. A few people are coming and going,
but it seems that on the whole they prefer to stay outside the library
than in it. You can understand why.
The place you enter is an open hall which comes to a point above
you in a vast, formerly glass dome. It clearly used to be a skylight but
has long since been left to decay. Where you imagine there were
once windows, there are only open holes. At least it seems someone
had the decency to sweep up the shards from the floor, as the
mosaic beneath your feet is quite tidy, possibly the only thing that
hasn’t succumbed to dust.
The whole place smells of damp. Even with the broken windows, the
air was much fresher outside.
The dome leads to a corridor which splits off into three. The left sign
has an insignia of children being taught by a teacher. The right sign
has a picture of a man looking at a family tree. The one pointing
forwards shows a pile of books on a shelf.
Go right – Turn to 17.2.
Go left – Turn to 17.3.
Go forward – Turn to 17.4.
Examine the mosaic – Turn to 17.20.
17.1A
It seems odd to be in a place with so many people after all this time.
You’ve got used to travelling alone, but now you’re truly in the city
centre. All sorts of people come and go around you, from the elderly
using sticks to keep them upright, to children laughing and shoving
each other out of the way. It’s nice to see that these people have
adapted to life after the war.
The epicentre of the hubbub is a great, ancient building, what you
know to be the library. It isn’t as tall as the church, but it still holds a
sense of grandeur. The greenery around it seems to be slightly more
well kept; the trees have been trimmed so they don’t brush against
its great windows, and there are some pretty flowers planted
outside the front. It has still become a victim to moss, though, and
patches of green and brown are making their home in the mortar.
They sprawl and form chaotic patterns amongst the heavy cracks
and pitted stone.
There is a sign above the doorway that looks like it was once
lettered in gold, but that has been lost to time. One day, perhaps
someone will come back and repaint it.
You step inside the open doors. A few people are coming and going,
but it seems on the whole they prefer to stay outside the
library rather than in it. You can understand why.

The place you enter is an open hall which comes to a point above
you in a vast, formerly glass dome. It clearly used to be a skylight but
has long since been left to decay. Where you imagine there were
once windows there are now only open holes. At least it seems
someone had the decency to sweep up the shards from the floor, as
the mosaic beneath your feet is quite tidy, possibly the only thing
that hasn’t succumbed to dust.
The whole place smells of damp. In spite of the broken windows, the
air was fresher outside.
The dome leads to a corridor which splits off into three. The left sign
tells you it leads to the education centre, the right towards the
public archives, the forward-facing one to the main library.
Examine the mosaic – Turn to 17.20.
17.2
You think the path to the right is the best option. You follow the sign
where it points deeper into the dilapidated building.
Surprisingly, you come to a set of stairs. They seem to be what you
need to follow to obey the sign, taking you to a lower level. You hope
the structural integrity of the building has stood up since the time of
the war – you don’t fancy walking somewhere that might collapse at
any moment.
Thankfully, it seems that when the building was constructed it was
done with great care – the stone walls on either side are in good
condition, and there’s very little actual rubble as you go. The stairs
end abruptly and give way straight to another large, long room,
definitely at least a hundred feet across. It’s lined with several
sturdy metal shelves which stretch up to the ceiling, and upon each
of them are boxes of uniform shapes and sizes. There seem to be
little scribbles of writing underneath each of them, possibly to help
differentiate the contents, but they’ve long since worn away.
You’d expect this place to be lightless, or at least only lit from any
sunlight creeping in through the cracks in the foundation, but you’re
surprised to see there’s a blue glow coming from the opposite end of
the corridor, only visible when you made it to this floor. It bathes the
other end of the room in a surreal, ominous glow and makes the
angular geometry of the shelves and boxes form a strange grid of
shadows.
You feel uncomfortable. It’s the sort of electronic harshness that
you’d expect from the vault, not from the ruins of the Old World.
Against your better judgement, you push onwards, towards the
room at the back, your skin taking on a glow from the light as you
approach. The shapes begin to define themselves more clearly as
you get closer. You can see a room separated by a glass partition
with rows of chairs all facing away from you and towards the
opposite wall where a square of blue is lit up. It seems to be coming
from an ancient machine on a pedestal. If you listen carefully
enough, you think you can hear it humming.
Search the shelves – Turn to 17.21.
Inspect the machinery – Turn to 17.5, Needs Engineering.
Return upstairs – Turn to 17.19.
Hunker down for the night – Turn to 17.18.
17.3
Left, you decide. Left seems to be the best idea.
You follow where the sign points and find yourself ascending a
staircase. Though it doesn’t lead to an entirely new floor, the curved
stairs bring you up, towards the dome of the main hall, where you
can see a series of small rooms clustered around the atrium.
You move slowly, hoping the walkway won’t give out beneath your
feet. The structure of this place seems sturdy enough, but it has had
to survive a hundred years post-war – not to mention however long
before then. Each doorway you pass gives you a glimpse into small
rooms, all of which appear to be quite uniform – a few desks and
chairs, sometimes upturned. A few scraps of brightly coloured
posters cling to the walls, depicting lists of numbers and old maps of
the globe. They remind you of a far more primitive version of the
classrooms which you spent your childhood in.
You shiver as a steady, cold wind blows in from the outside.
Turning your head to find its source, you see that there is one door
not closed on the opposite side of the room, though it hasn’t aged
well. A chunk of it is missing from the bottom, but you can still see
there’s what’s left of a sign on it – a few faded words and a picture

showing children aren't allowed inside.
Explore the classrooms – Turn to 17.6.
Go through the open door – Turn to 17.7.
17.4
You decide to go forward into what you believe must be the main
library. That’s what you’re here for, after all.
Past the open atrium of the dome, you’re led through to a wide hall.
It retains the circular shape of the previous room but spreads out
further, lined with hundreds of bookcases and piles of old books.
There are a few people milling around inside who appear to be
engrossed in scanning the shelves. They don’t pay you any mind as
you walk past them.
You cast your eyes over the lines of tomes. Each shelf’s inventory
varies in size and length, and they don’t seem to be ordered in any
way you can understand. Some of them seem to be read more than
the others, though, and some bookcases are far more matted with
dust than others. Towards the outside of the room, cold has begun to
seep through the cracked walls and a few of the books have begun to
fall victim to damp. The smell of must is definitely more palpable
here.
Try to translate the library card system – Turn to 17.13, Needs
Knowledge.
Look for medical texts – Turn to 17.11, Needs Medicine.
Look for maps – Turn to 17.12.
Talk to the people here – Turn to 17.10.
17.5
You find yourself staring at this place in awe. Not only must there
still be some sort of power leading down here, electricity even, just
like in the vault, the fact that this machine still works after so many
years is nothing short of a miracle.
You can’t resist taking a closer look.
The machine is shaped like a box and has a circle mounted on it.
There’s a glass lens at one end, which looks like it’s the source of
light – this is further evidenced when you wave your hand in front of
it and see it shadowed on the blue square on the wall. Judging by the
set-up and the angle of the machine, you guess it’s some sort of basic
projecting mechanism, a far more rudimentary version of what you
had back in the vault.
The plastic casing around the machinery has begun to come away,
and it only takes one short sharp tug to remove the plate and see the
wires and mechanisms inside.
You look more carefully at the machine. Your original assessment
might have been wrong; there’s no live power down here, instead
the machine is connected to a backup generator. Just as you’re
wondering why it was so important that it needed an independent
power source, you suddenly hear a fan whirr to life. It makes you
jump, and you step away as a cloud of dust is blown into the air from
inside the machine.
It beeps and hums and a red light sputters to life on the front of it.
The blue square glitches for a second before it’s replaced with black
and grey shapes that seem to move and blend together. You furrow
your brow and, on a hunch, you gently begin to fiddle with the lens.
As you twist it, the anonymous shapes begin to come into focus.
There’s no sound, but you’re definitely seeing a video. It looks like
some sort of news report from before the war.
Troops in uniform are stood in file before a pair of elderly men, one
in uniform and the other in a suit. The man in the suit points to
something off camera and his companion nods. The video cuts to the
same men, now flanked by scientists in white coats, inside a lab.
They wear protective goggles and are bent over a containment unit
where some unknown material seems to have provoked them into a
lively conversation. Another shot, and the men are now sitting in the
rear of an army vehicle, which flies by the camera at speed. As the
camera pans, you see an entire complex of military buildings
surrounded by wire fences and guard towers. A woman in a suit
steps in front of the camera and speaks into a microphone while a
helicopter behind her takes off into the sky.
You stand there in silence and awe, marvelling at the ghosts of the
old world you see before you. The size and scale of their military
shocks you, and in that moment you begin to understand how your
ancestors, in their zealotry, became the architects of their own
destruction.
You become aware that above your head a broken old speaker
buzzes softly in time with the mouth of the woman on screen, but it
gives no sound you can understand. You never learned to read lips.
You seem to recall Gaia mentioning something about it being a skill
she had, but it wasn’t ever something you went into great detail
about.
You wish she were here. You wish you weren’t experiencing this
alone.
Your mind wanders to thoughts of loss and despair as you consider
how so many people, blinded by their beliefs, were unable to see the
danger that you see so plainly in hindsight. How they even seemed
excited about getting to try new modes of war. A solemn feeling
overcomes you as you turn from the images. Your eyes adjust once
more to the darkness as you consider your next move.
Preserve the film – Turn to 17.8.
Destroy the film – Turn to 17.9.
17.6
Each of the classrooms seem quite uniform. The desk layout for each
is a bit different – some have desks facing the front, some are in a
circle as if set up for a discussion.
Chairs have not stood the test of time, and many lie scattered on the
floor and separate from their legs. In each room, you see old scraps
of paper have been blown into the corners by the harsh wind.
It’s fascinating in its own way to see how the children of a century
ago learned. There are a couple of carvings in the desks, probably
done by a bored pupil with a sharp pencil, mostly love hearts with
initials written in them. You run your fingers over the grooves
sentimentally. But apart from a few old displays showing photos of
the old world, there’s little of interest here.
Visit the doored-off room – Turn to 17.7.
17.7
It takes a shove with your shoulder to make the wood move enough
from the frame for you to enter, and when it does it’s with a loud
crack. You hope that nobody comes to investigate.
You’re a little disappointed when you open the door. The layout isn’t
dissimilar to that of the other rooms. It’s comparable in shape and
size, though the furniture is a little bit better with sofas and coffee
tables rather than desks. On one side of the room there are a few
counters and a fridge, making up a kitchenette. Discarded mugs,
now shattered to porcelain shards, make their home there. You
think you see a spider skittering between them.
You wonder why this place was sectioned off from the other areas –
it doesn’t seem particularly secretive. Then again, they must have
needed a place for teachers to take a break – maybe that’s the
function of this room? Your mind wanders to the past, and you
imagine the ghosts wandering in and out of the door, folders
clutched to their chests and coffee in their hands.
This might be a good place to make camp for the night, you think.
Despite the spiders.
Go to the main library – Turn to 17.4.
17.8
After rummaging in your pack for a penknife, you carefully slide the
blade into the plastic casing on the box. The circle on the top pops
open with another little puff of dust.
Underneath it, a small silver disk spins to a halt. You carefully
extract it. You don’t know if the vault has the technology to read this
format, but it’s worth bringing it with you anyway. Anything you can
get from it might give a good insight into the old world.
Carefully, you find a protected pocket to keep the disk. You hope it
won’t snap as you travel. All you can do is try to make sure you don’t
land on your pack any time soon.
Add Film (O.7) to your inventory.
Explore – Turn to 17.19.
17.9
You don’t know how long this film has been down here, or how
many people have seen it. How many people have looked at it like
you have and thought about the mistakes of the past.
All something like this can do is cause pain. Try to drag people back
to a life they can never have again.
With a sigh, you take your penknife from your pack and slide the
blade into the plastic casing. The circle on the top pops out and
reveals a disk which slowly spins to a stop. You reach in and fish it
out with cautious fingers before snapping it in half, and then
quarters.
It’s better this way, you decide, dropping the shards to the floor.
Save people the pain. Like a tumour, that part of the past needs to be
cut out.
Explore Upstairs – Turn to 17.19.
17.10
An old man scans a shelf with dull grey eyes. You sidle up to him and
look over his shoulder. The books he’s scanning are thick and
complex. One is open in his hands, full of very small print that takes
up the whole page. There’s also some sort of scientific diagram
which you can make neither heads nor tails of.
It’s clear he’s seen you watching him, and you feel a little
embarrassed, but he smiles at you with a hint of sadness.
“Not many folks visit this section any more. Usually it’s just me
nowadays.”
He really is quite old. The wrinkles along his face are chasms in his
skin, and his hair is a bright white. You wonder if he’s old enough to
remember when the war first broke out.
“What are you reading?” You don’t want to seem impolite, and this
man seems so sombre that the least you can do is have a
conversation with him. He closes the book, using a finger to
bookmark his page, and shows you the front. There’s a picture of a
nuclear symbol on the front which you recognise – it was the sort of
thing you were warned to watch out for before you left on your
voyage – ‘There is danger here’.
“My mother used to work in the plants back before this whole thing
happened. I try to keep myself educated, pass on the information to
the young ’uns. Make sure the knowledge doesn’t leave us. It wasn’t
always a bad thing, you know, the radiation. Only became that when
we started turning on each other.”
He goes back to browsing his book and you’re left to mull over his
words.
Explore further – Turn to 17.15.
Speak to man about sketch – Turn to 17.16a, Needs Sketch of
Statue.
Speak to man about powerplant – Turn to 17.16, Needs Powerplant
Files.
17.11
You search through the books as much as you can. The
language is strange and alien to you, despite the knowledge of
medicine you came here with. A few words are similar, mostly when
it comes to names of medication, but a lot of this information has
been lost through the war. Obviously, when the bombs dropped
there was a high demand for medical treatment, and a lot of stock
got used up fast. That led to years of medicinal shortage. Many
people who didn’t get blown up or irradiated ended up succumbing
to otherwise avoidable sickness.
The vault manufactured its own medicine. Your home was lucky to
have trained doctors and pharmacists within its walls who were
able to treat your community effectively. You can’t imagine the hell
that was any vaults that didn’t.
A lot of these books have the same theme, you notice after a while.
There seems to be a fixation on slimming down, staying as low a
weight as possible.
You don’t understand it. If you could be fat, it would be because you
had plenty of food, and that sounds wonderful. A day with a full
stomach is a day well spent. It seems ridiculous, the stupid things
the people of the old world were obsessed with. You shove the book
back onto the shelf and decide there’s nothing worth looking at here.
Talk to someone in the library – Turn to 17.10.
17.12
Perhaps there are some atlases around here. If you can find
something, you might be able to map out the surrounding areas a
little better. You hope the actual topography of the land hasn’t
changed much in a hundred years.
You take your time exploring and find that the books about
geography are all covered in a thick layer of dust. When you open
them, you find out why – none of it is about what is here. You see
printed pictures of brilliant blue oceans and vast sandy deserts, but
nothing local at all. Back in the Old World they were probably so
interested in what lay beyond the horizon, the library might not
have thought it worth stocking information about the homeland
itself.
It’s certainly a frustrating discovery, and you find yourself cursing
the library itself. Of course, there’s no way the people who worked
here could have had any idea about your predicament, and it’s a
fruitless thing to do, but it makes you feel better. It’s probably best
to look somewhere else for this type of information.
Explore further – Turn to 17.15.
Talk to someone in the library – Turn to 17.10.
17.13
If you’re going to get anywhere here, you’re going to need to know
how to crack the system. There’s a desk area with ancient machines
sitting on it towards the middle of the room, probably where staff
used to sit, but nobody appears to be working at this place any
more. People are free to come and go as they please, taking books
with them with no enforcement to bring them back. In all honesty,
you’re surprised it’s survived in such a good state –
perhaps people’s respect for old world artefacts increased when it
died.
There are tall piles of paper in the main desk’s drawers. They seem
to detail the system that the books are filed in. From what you can
make out, it uses long, decimal numbers. You’re lucky there are also
illustrations to help you understand the guide, or you think you’d be
lost.
You pore over the lexicon for hours, running a finger under each
word to try to work it out like a child might in their first reading
lessons. You make a note of anything that might be interesting and
will make an effort to find it later.
By the time you’re done, the knee you’ve rested the book on is
numb. You’re also quite cold, but it’s all worth it as you think you’ve
found something that might be helpful.

Find “Alba for Tourists” – Turn to 17.17.
Find “Engelsk-Norsk Ordbok” – Turn to 17.14.
17.14
You go and seek out the strange book and find it towards the outside
wall on a dusty shelf. You pull it free and stare at it, taking in what
fascinated you in the first place – it has a picture of your vault’s flag
on the front.
Opening the page, you find a bank of words from your own language
gathered alongside phrases and words from the Old World. In the
centre of the book, strange diagrams seem to explain the grammar
of the two languages, making comparisons that highlight the ancient,
shared roots which have become lost to time.
As you flick through the book, you find new and strange words
which may become useful for your journey. “Laundrette”,
“vestibule”,
“motorway”. The lyrical quality of the Old World’s language delights
you with each esoteric new discovery you make. Tucking the book in
your inside pocket, you move on, sure that this valuable resource
will be hugely useful to you.
You may add Old World Language (S.2) as a skill to your character
sheet.
Explore the rest of the building – Turn to 17.15.
17.15
You go back to where the signposts split the building, and as you go
you take note of the architecture of the place. It appears this huge
building is in three parts: the ground floor (including the library
itself), a basement, and small rooms that circle the dome of the main
building up a set of winding stairs.
Go up – Turn to 17.3.
Go down – Turn to 17.2.
Explore the mosaic – Turn to 17.20.
17.16A
“Excuse me…” you continue. The man jumps as if he
didn’t expect you to speak again. He watches you warily as you go
through your pack to find your sketchbook. “Can you tell me about
this?”
The man gingerly takes the book and smiles.
“This was old even when I was a child. It’s a monument to the first
great war the world had. It was a tragedy. Of course,” he sighs,
“a lot less people died than when we worked out how to use
radiation.”
He hands you the book back.
“Some people think we should forget these things in the past.
Some people think if we ignore them, we’re doomed to repeat our
mistakes. What do you think?”
You don’t know how to answer, honestly.
Add either Resolve or Instability to your character sheet.
Turn to 17.18.
17.16
“Excuse me…” you continue. The man jumps as if he
didn’t expect you to speak again. He watches you warily as you go
through your pack to find the papers
you took from the office of the powerplant. “Can you translate
these?”
The man gingerly takes the leaves and goes through them. His
eyebrows rocket up.
“Where did you get these?”
You explain your story, going to the plant and coming across the
documents. He looks at you with a mixture of pity and admiration.
“Well, they look like they’re just information about radiation levels.
This was printed at a time when the radiation levels were safe.
Before the bombs dropped. Before we knew the full danger.” He
sighs and gives it back to you. “There’s nothing useful there, kid.
Only lingering memories of the past.”
He walks away from you before you can ask him anything else.
You crunch the papers up in your hand.
Add either Resolve or Instability to your character sheet.
Remove Power Plant Files from your inventory.
Turn to 17.18.
17.17
You find the book towards the centre of the room, a bit damp but in
surprisingly good condition. It’s a slim little thing, but its cover still
shines brightly in the pale sunlight that lights up the building from
the cracks in the ceiling.
Opening to the first page, you see the book shows a stylised layout of
the old-world settlement that once stood here. The pages are full of
pictures of a happy and vibrant town, with cheerful people pointing
at striking buildings. As you run your finger over the colourful
illustrations, you try to recognise which sites you’ve been to, and
which you haven’t but may still stand.
It’s strange, you think. The homes and public buildings collected
together in this map paint a picture of peace and happiness which
defies your understanding of the Old World. The reality of
bloodshed and chaos which defined the era doesn’t seem to be
reflected in their daily lives.
Add The Metro (Chapter 22, L.22) and The Radio Tower (Chapter
25, L.25) to map.
Turn to 17.18.
17.18
The sun is getting low. The light has gone from a pale yellow to a
dusky orange, and it lights up the building in a way that almost
seems like it’s on fire. People are beginning to leave now, but others
seem to be settling between shelves to continue their reading or
stay here themselves.
You head back into the main dome. The pillars and windows of the
old library cast a tangle of long shadows which leave strange
patches of angular light. They creep slowly across the floor with the
setting sun.
You notice there’s a desk area that you passed over when you first
entered into the building. You must have been so interested in the
signposts you totally overlooked it. It’s wooden and hasn’t rotted
– you can probably set up a lean-to if you can’t be bothered to get
out your whole tent.
You’re doing just that when you notice something tucked away in
one of the sturdy wooden pigeon holes of the bureau. It’s a large,
folded piece of paper, which unfolds in your hands as you pick it up.
Your eyebrows raise when you find it’s a map of the local
topography
– no buildings, per se, but definitely information about the
surrounding natural areas, and scribbled notes over the top of it.
Staving sleep off, you compare your map to this new one and mark
down any interesting locations. You consider taking it with you, but
decide against it. Instead you leave it tucked back away for any other
souls who come along and need some help.
END.
Add The Battlefield (Chapter 26, L.26) and The Caravans
17.19
You return to the ground floor, your legs aching with the effort of
traversing the stairs. Your options now are to go upstairs, or into the
library proper.
Whatever else is in the basement is best left forgotten, you decide.
Go upstairs – Turn to 17.3.
Go to the main library – Turn to 17.4.
Examine the mosaic floor – Turn to 17.20.
17.20
Taking a few steps back, you attempt to take in all of the mosaic at
once. It’s quite incredible – thousands upon thousands of little
pieces of ceramic, all arranged to form something much bigger than
the sum of its parts. It is, of course, dusty and dirty, and leaves have
fallen in from the outside, but you find it doesn’t take away the
marvel of it.
Depicted across the vast hall of the floor is a woman in a floaty robe.
She clutches a harp and has a serene look on her face.
There’s a pile of books by her feet in the picture, though it doesn’t
show any titles. There’s a line of script circling around her, but you
don’t recognise what it says – it looks like it’s in Latin. Latin was a
dead language before the war started, and after? Well, there was no
need for something that wasn’t used. It became long forgotten.
But it still adds something grand, you decide. It is a very splendid
mural. The Old World did a good job here.
17.21
You bring down one of the boxes from the shelf to the floor and
carefully open it. There are old, old pieces of paper in there, but
when you touch them you find them far too brittle to pick up; they
crumble in your hand.
It looks like the writing would be too faded to read anyway. You
inspect a couple of other boxes to test this theory and find the
contents the same in all of them. It’s frustrating, and you put them
back where they were with more force than necessary, all the while
being flooded in that strange blue glow.
Inspect the machine – Turn to 17.5, Needs Engineering
Return upstairs – Turn to 17.19.
CHAPTER 18
THE BASE/THE OFFER
18.1
Every part of you is screaming that this is a bad idea. Even the
weather seems to be echoing your thoughts, the slate-grey sky
overcast and heavy with the possibility of rain. You suppress a
shudder and keep going forward, trying to keep each footstep sure
of itself, even when you aren’t.
The raider base looks about the way you expected: daunting. It
seems to consist of a group of squat buildings, each made from
corrugated iron and concrete. Watchtowers sit on each corner, and
knitted between them are high, barbed wire fences. There are
warning signs hung all over the chain links, but they aren’t recent
ones – judging by the peeling metal, these were made pre-war. This
place was dangerous even before the raiders got here. Then again,
you muse, maybe that’s what attracted them to the place.
The entrance is an old, cracked tarmac road with little green wisps
of weeds sticking up through it. It ends at a sturdy gate where two
raiders stand guard with sturdy rifles in their hands.
Maybe you should turn back. Then again, this place is full of
curiosities. You wouldn’t have come here unless you thought there
was something to uncover. And maybe, just maybe, your group
passed through here.

Attempt to sneak in – Turn to 18.2.
Show the letter from the boss – Turn to 18.13, Needs Dagger’s
Letter.
Set up a vantage point and shoot – Turn to 18.3, Needs
Sharpshooter.
Read the signs on the chainlink – Turn to 18.16, Needs Old World
Language.
18.2
You’re lucky the guards haven’t spotted you yet. You keep close to
the ground and crawl prone along the dirt and crisp grass until you
find a natural dip in the land. You slide down and lay on your back.
From here, you have a decent view of the facility, without being too
on display yourself. You’re wise enough to know to wait until
nightfall to make an attempt to sneak in. You do, however, spot a
hole in the fence; with a bit of wiggling, it would be plenty big
enough for you to manoeuvre through. You store that titbit of
information away and continue your watch.
Knowing you have a while to wait, you try to make yourself as
comfortable as possible, digging your back into the soft peat. You
observe the facility at length to see if anything of note happens. As
the day goes on, the guards seem to relax, resting their guns at their
sides and leaning casually against the wire fence. Every now and
then a peal of laughter rises up, though you miss the joke that
elicited the reaction. You wonder if it might be worth getting in a
little bit of sleep, when something catches your eye.
Something dome-like begins to rise up from the base. No, not dome-
like… circular? It takes a few moments of watching for the
information to filter through into your mind. It’s a balloon. You’ve
not
seen many of them, balloons not being a huge commodity back in

the vault; they were at a couple of birthday parties, but that was
about it. But this, this is nothing like those little decorative rubber
things… this balloon is vast, the size of a small house at least.
Though it rises into the air like the sun, it’s somehow odd and
foreboding. The guards stop their conversation and watch it take
flight with a silent respect, dropping their earlier professionalism to
observe.
It occurs to you that this might be a good opportunity to steal past
them. Keeping low to the ground, you crawl out from your hiding
place and skitter over to the weak point in the fence. The hole is
smaller than you thought, and you’re worried your legs will get
snagged, but after shoving your pack through you kick the metal
until it gives way and allows you access.
You run, not slowing your pace until you get to the side of the
building, and duck behind a pile of empty crates. High above you, the
vast balloon is beginning to descend and from this distance you can
hear the odd whirring sound it’s giving off. Apart from that, the
camp is silent.
Add Balloon Sketch (F.18) to your notebook.
Add The Balloon (E.21) to your character sheet.
Sabotage the base – Turn to 18.7.
Search the base – Turn to 18.19.
18.3
You’re far enough away from the base that the raider guards haven’t
been able to spot you. Needing higher ground, you find yourself
ascending a hill. You keep yourself close to the ground and crawl.
You aren’t sure if this will be quieter. The prickly, dry grass keeps
rubbing against your nose and threatening to make you sneeze, and
that’s the last thing you need.
It’s worth it, though. This vantage point gives you a full view of the
complex. From this distance, the figures patrolling the site seem
tiny, defenceless and weak. And you’re a good enough shot to know
that you can hit them something fierce.
You set up your gun and look through the scope. The guards are still
by the gate, chatting idly, a stark comparison from their behaviour
earlier. They have no idea.
The first shot rings out across the landscape and one of the guards
drops dead. Even from here, you can hear his companion scream.
You slowly move your sights across the base and see more guards
exiting a building, running towards the corpse which is heaped in a
bloody pile on the ground. Your second bullet roars through the sky
and through the neck of one of the reinforcements, sending an arc of
crimson up into the air. Everyone who is outside
throws themselves to the ground for protection, crawling towards

anything that would give them shelter.
A third shot, and a fourth. Enough people have then scrambled away
that you can’t find a good target, and an ominous silence falls across
the landscape. Suddenly, from one of the buildings, a pair of figures
emerge. There’s a raider, her eyes wide and wild, in her fist a curved
knife pointed to the throat of the other. As your scope falls across
the pair you recognise her captive.
It’s Gaia.
Her jaw is set in fierce determination, but she’s clearly terrified.
Her face is gaunt and her eyes hollow and she struggles against her
captor ineffectually. Two more raiders come out, rifles pointed at
her back, and the first one pushes her to her knees. You see her eyes
scan the skyline as she tries to see where you lie.
They can’t know who you are… can they? Can they be aware of
Gaia’s connection to you, or is it random? Either way, she’s in
danger.
Add Gaia Seen (E.10) to your character sheet.
Open fire – Turn to 18.5.
18.4
You pack your rifle away and rise to your feet, trying to make
yourself as obvious as possible against the skyline. Holding your
arms above your head you make your way to the complex gate.
You’re met by a group of guards with weapons trained on you, all of
them shouting loud and seemingly conflicting orders. You don’t look
at them. Your eyes are on Gaia. She struggles until suddenly, she
sees you, too. Her mouth goes agape and you think she’s about to
say something when the raider keeping her captive slams her knife
hilt onto her head, stunning her. The guards who had their rifles on
her approach her lolling form and shove an arm under each of her
armpits, dragging her off further into the camp.
“Your weapon,” says the female raider, far too calm for your liking.
You pass her your collapsed rifle and she admires it. She gives a nod
to the men surrounding you and they begin to roughly march you
towards a building – the opposite way from Gaia.
Demand to see Gaia – Turn to 18.6.
Walk with them calmly – Turn to 18.10.
18.5
Your crosshairs hover for a moment between the woman and Gaia.
She lets a little sob escape which seems to please her captor no end.
It’s enough to make you snap.
You fire a round straight through her head. The raider looks
surprised for a moment before she tumbles backwards, spraying
blood as she goes. The two other guards panic and scramble, but it’s
a simple operation to plant a bullet in each of them, too. They fall to
the ground like ragdolls. Between them, Gaia shivers, clearly
shocked. You let a sharp whistle out towards her, and her head
snaps up towards you. You stand and beckon towards her. It takes
her a moment but she begins to walk, then run, hurtling out of the
compound. You scamper down the hill to meet her.
Gaia throws her arms around you. It’s closer than you ever were on
the ship, but you return the gesture, holding her tightly. She’s thin.
You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve seen her, but clearly
the time apart wasn’t kind to her.
“Are you all right?” you ask, checking her over and wishing you
hadn’t. Her pale skin is covered in nasty bruises.
“Better now those fuckers are dead,” she says, and spits on the
ground. You smile. It’s good to know her Gaia-ness hasn’t been
dampened. The moment is short-lived, though, as a siren begins to

scream out from the camp. Gaia grabs you by the shoulder
desperately.
“We need to split up. If we stick together, they might get us both and
we can’t let that happen, all right?”
You want to argue that you just got her back, but her tone doesn’t
leave much room for argument. She shoves something into your
hands: a piece of paper.
“There’s a radio tower near here. I’ll try and meet you there. Just be
safe until then.”
She squeezes your hands in hers before she takes off in a run in the
opposite direction. You consider going after her until a bullet
whizzes by your ear – she’s right, you can’t risk both of you being
stopped. You pull your pack tight and run as fast as you can, away
from Gaia, but with relief washing over you that your friend is still
alive.
END.
Add Radio Tower Coordinates (F.17) to your notebook.
Add Gaia’s Badge (O.22) to your character sheet.
Add The Radio Tower (Chapter 25, L.25) to map.
18.6
“Iwant to talk to her!” you scream, the volume and force of your own
voice hurting your throat. Gaia, though still dazed, reacts to your
voice, dizzily shouting your name. You pull against your captives,
but they have you locked tight in their embraces. The female raider
rolls her eyes.
“If you comply, maybe the boss will let you see her,” she states.
There’s not a lot in her voice that makes you sure of that, though.
Let the guards take you – Turn to 18.10.
Fight them off – Turn to 18.18.
18.7
This base is too dangerous to be left how it is. The raiders here pose
a threat to every piece of society that’s trying to be built on the
remnants of the old world. The very least you can do is try to
destroy what they have, to hinder their plans.
You do a quick scan of the base. Towards the corner of the
compound, you see a group of guard dogs, fast asleep. They look
calm, but you notice some of them have chunks of flesh missing and
they all have horrid scars – these are dogs bred to fight, no doubt
about it. If they were let loose, they could certainly do some damage
before they were herded back.
Then again, you could always try to find the balloons they were
flying. Giving the guards’ reaction to seeing it earlier, you guess it
must be something important to the raiders. If it was destroyed, it
could throw a big wrench in the works.
Release the dogs – Turn to 18.14.
Sabotage the balloons – Turn to 18.17.
18.8
You scan the area as best you can, trying to get to a high vantage
point without being seen. There isn’t a lot else for you to make note
of. You can see a little inside of the base
– there are plenty of other raiders walking to and from buildings,
just carrying out everyday tasks that need doing. If you didn’t know
what this place was, perhaps you could mistake it for any other
town. But you know better. It looks like your best option may be to
try to sneak by when the guards are distracted.
Show the letter from the boss – Turn to 18.13, Needs Letter from
Dagger.
Sharpshooter.
Read the signs on the chainlink – Turn to 18.16, Needs Old World
Language.
18.9
The raiders all otherwise engaged, you decide to take
advantage of the commotion. Going to free any prisoners seems like
the best idea – nobody deserves to be locked up by these savages.
You run between buildings, poking your head round doors to try to
find any prisoners. On the fourth try, you see that inside one of the
smaller square structures there are a series of cages, but only one of
them is occupied.
You slip into the room, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness,
trying to see the state of the prisoner in the cell.
Then you realise, and you almost can’t believe it.
It’s Gaia.
She’s sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest and her eyes shut.
She looks pale and gaunt with heavy bruising over what skin you
can see. You call her name and her eyelids flutter open, taking you in
with a strange and confused look – before her face lights up.
“You? ” she asks, incredulous. You nod. She lets out a dry little laugh,
probably her first one for a while, and comes up to her cell
door.
“I thought you were dead!” she says. “After the storm…”
“No, I’m fine… well, I’m alive. How did you get here?”
She furrows her brow. “When we were relocating, after the storm
hit, a group of raiders attacked us. Everyone got away, except me.
They’ve been keeping me prisoner here, trying to use me for
ransom.” She points over your shoulder. “Look, there are keys over
there – grab them and let me out!”
You unlock the cage with shaking hands and Gaia launches herself at
you, hugging you tight. It’s more affection than you’re used to, but
you reciprocate it with gusto.
“Let’s go,” you say. “The distraction won’t last forever.”
Gaia sticks to you like glue as you survey the situation outside.
Still busy. Good. The two of you run out of the prison cell as fast as
you can, not stopping when you hear people shouting after you. You
get about ten metres from the cellblock before you hear the first
bullet.
“We need to split up. If we stick together they might get us both!”
she shouts at you.
You want to argue that you just got her back, but her tone doesn’t
leave much room for argument. She catches up to you, her breathing
heavy, and shoves something in your hands.
“There’s a radio tower near here. I’ll try and meet you there, all
right? Just be safe until then.”
She squeezes your hand in her own before she takes off in a run in
the opposite direction. You consider going after her until a bullet
whizzes by your ear – she’s right, you can’t risk both of you being
stopped. You pull your pack tight and run as fast as you can, away
from Gaia and through the gate, but with relief washing over you
that your friend is still alive, for now.
END.
Add Radio Tower Coordinates (F.17) to your notebook.
18.10
You’re brought to an unremarkable building with extra guards
stationed outside of it. They look at you with disdain as the door is
opened and you’re shoved inside roughly by the men escorting you.
The room is lit low with candles and a flickering electric lamp.
There’s an uncomfortable number of bodies here, clearly in the
middle of conversation until you rudely made your entrance. The
raiders surround a large table with a rough map of the area drawn
out on it, a few ‘X’s marking places of interest, which you make a
quick note of in your head.
A woman is at the head of it, fingering a pointing stick for use on the
map. Her head has been completely shaved and she has tattoos all
the way up her neck and across her scalp. One of her eyes is grey, a
nasty scar covering the flesh around it to give you an idea of how it
got that way. She’s dressed surprisingly well compared to the
others, in furs which would be fine were it not for the blood on
them.
She cocks a brow at you and looks you up and down.
“So you’re causing commotion in my camp, eh?” she asks with a
sniff.
“Dagger…” says one of her companions, clearly not happy with you
being there, but she shushes him without even sparing him a glance.
“The audacity of some people… look, what do you want, outsider?”
“I want you to let me and my friend leave,” you tell Dagger, without
really thinking about the words. Her face lights up, but not in a nice
way.
“Isn’t that handy? I have something you want, and I need something
done for me. Sounds like a deal can be brokered, eh?”
She slaps the stick down on the map and a couple of her associates
jump.
“There’s another base not far from here. Run by an absolute bastard.
They’ve got a nice little pot of uranium I’m after, but they refuse to
cooperate. Reckon you can get it for me? If you bring it back I
promise I’ll let your little friend go.”
Accept – Turn to 18.12.
Refuse – Turn to 18.11.
18.11
Even with Gaia’s safety on the line, you won’t be this woman’s dog.
You’re better than that. Better than her. You grit your jaw and
Dagger rolls her eyes.
“No pleasing some people. All right, get this thing out of my sight.
I’m done.” Her eyes fall back to the map as someone hits you round
the head, hard.
You black out for a moment at the force of the impact and when you
come around, you’re at the gates of the building, shoved on the dirt
outside like litter. You get up and tenderly feel the area of your head
where you were hit. The guards on duty laugh at you, a terrible,
grating sound. You get to your feet and struggle away. Gaia will be
fine, you try to reason. At least you got away with your dignity…
didn’t you?
END.
Add Meeting Dagger (E.14) to your character sheet.
Add The Caravans (Chapter 24, L.24), T he Battlefield (Chapter
26, L.26), and The Open Fields (Chapter 21, L.21) to map.
18.12
It’s not a nice proposition… but if it’s for Gaia…
“I’ll do it,” you say, and Dagger claps her hands together in delight,
revealing she’s missing the ring and little fingers of her right hand.
“Perfect. I’ve written you a little note to give to the scumbag in
charge, but you seem resourceful so you might not even need it. I’ll
give you a map to get there, too.” She nods at an associate who
supplies you with two folded pieces of paper, one of them clearly a
letter. “And, outsider? Don’t bother coming back without the
uranium.”
She smiles a yellow-toothed smile. You’re escorted from the building
by two strong guards, brought back through the gate outside, and
shoved back into the wilderness.
You look at the paper in your hands.
You can do this. Gaia depends on it, after all.
You open your map and begin to walk.
END.
Add Meeting Dagger (E.14) to your character sheet.

Add Note from Dagger (O.12) to your inventory.
Add The Uranium Heist (Chapter 15, L.15), The Caravans
(Chapter 24, L.24), The Battlefield (Chapter 26, L.26), and The
Open Fields (Chapter 21, L.21) to map.
Go to The Uranium Heist (Chapter 15).
18.13
The guards raise their weapons as you approach, but you lift your
hands above your head, holding out the note when you get close
enough. One of them snatches it from your hand and reads it with
untrained eyes, before mulling you over. He may not know the
language it’s written in but he clearly recognises the handwriting.
“No funny business,” he says, opening the gate, and the two of them
bring you through. A couple of raiders look at you quizzically but
don’t stop to question why an outsider is being marched through the
camp. You fiddle with the zip on your coat nervously but don’t ask
any questions – it’s best to make as little fuss as possible.
You’re brought to an unremarkable building which has extra guards
stationed outside of it. They look at you with disdain as the door is
opened and you’re shoved inside roughly by the men escorting you.
There’s an uncomfortable amount of bodies in here, clearly in the
middle of conversation until you rudely made your entrance. The
raiders surround a large table with a rough map of the area drawn
out on it, a few ‘X’s marking places of interest, which you make a
quick note of in your head.
A woman is at the head of it, fingering a pointing stick for use on the
map. Her head has been completely shaved and she has tattoos all
the way up her neck and across her scalp. One of her eyes is grey, a
nasty scar covering the flesh around it to give you an idea of how it
got that way. She’s dressed surprisingly well compared to the
others, in furs which would be fine were it not for the blood on
them.
She grins when she sees you.
“I see you got my message then!” she says, gleefully.
“Dagger…” says one of her companions, clearly not happy with you
being there, but she shushes him without even sparing him a glance.
“You must have come here for a reason, right, outsider?
Interested in doing business?”
“What do I get out of it?” You manage to keep the shake out of your
voice. She laughs but in a way that almost makes it seem like she
finds you endearing.
“Oh, little outsider. I have one of your little friends. Gaia, I think her
name is? I think you’ll find that interesting.”
You feel your eyes go wide. Gaia? Here? She might be bluffing…
but how would she know Gaia’s name?
done for me. Sounds like a deal can be brokered, eh?”
jump.
They’ve got a nice little pot of uranium I’m after, but refuse to
cooperate. Reckon you can get it for me? If you bring it back, I

18.14
Adog raises its head as you approach, but thankfully doesn’t bark.
Instead, it watches you as you try to get in the best position to
release the catch on the door without being caught in the stampede.
You see a few more ears prick up as you slide the deadbolt out of its
latch, and swing it open.
Immediately the dogs are on their feet, going wild. They dash out of
the cage and into the camp. They seem unbothered by you, luckily,
and pass without even a curious sniff. You hear a shout of surprise
as raiders begin to realise the pack has escaped. A couple of them
are pounced on but you don’t stop to watch the aftermath, instead
taking advantage of the moment. With the raiders preoccupied, you
have free rein to explore.
Look for prisoners – Turn to 18.9.
Find who’s in charge – Turn to 18.15.
18.15
All the raiders seem distracted by the commotion you’ve made. You
want to take the opportunity to find out who’s running this base.
They might be worth talking to, even just for information – and
they’re likely unguarded.
You inspect a few of the buildings, running between them until you
find what you’re looking for. Peeking in one of the windows, you see
a raider sitting alone in a chair, dressed finely and looking quite
bored.
Screwing up all your courage, you walk into the room.
There’s not much furniture here, only a large table with a rough map
of the area drawn out on it, a few ‘X’s marking places of interest,
which you make a quick note of in your head.
The woman is at the head of it, fingering a pointing stick for use on
the map. Her head has been completely shaved and she has tattoos
all the way up her neck and across her scalp. One of her eyes is grey,
a nasty scar covering the flesh around it to give you an idea of how it
got that way. She looks surprised to see you, but also seems to
recognise your outfit.
“Oh, you’re the outsider I’ve heard so much about!” she says,
gesturing to your clothes. You’re about to answer when the door
behind you opens and two raiders step in. Shit. You guess someone
was keeping an eye on the building after all. The newcomers go to
grab you but are stopped when the boss raises her hand.
“Dagger…” says one of her companions warily, clearly not happy
with you being there, but she shushes him without even sparing him
a glance.
“Come now, let’s be more welcoming to our guest. You must have
come here for a reason, right, outsider? Interested in doing
business?”
“What do I get out of it?” you ask, managing to keep the shake out of
your voice. She laughs, but in a way that almost makes it seem like
she finds you endearing.
“Oh, little outsider. Bargaining when so clearly outnumbered…
well, if we’re being honest, I have one of your little friends. Gaia, I
think her name is? I think you’ll find that interesting.”
You feel your eyes go wide. Gaia? Here? She might be bluffing…
but how else would she know her name?
done for me. Sounds like a deal can be made, eh?”
jump.
They’ve got a nice little pot of uranium I’m after, but refuse to
cooperate. Reckon you can get it for me? If you bring it back I
18.16
The signs are a bit hard to see from this distance, but you squint
until the squiggles form themselves into words.
MILITARY BASE. DO NOT ENTER ON DANGER OF DEATH.
It used to be a military base? Now you understand why the raiders
were drawn to it. A little dangerous slice of history for them to
explore. Also, there might have been some good things left when the
bombs dropped… weapons and armoury for the raiders to get their
hands on. It makes you feel sick, the idea of them having powerful
pre-war weapons. This place is more unnerving than you first
thought.
Show the letter from the boss – Turn to 18.13, Needs Letter from
Dagger.
Sharpshooter.
18.17
It’s easy enough to find the building the balloon is being housed in;
all you need to do is look for the biggest one. You slip inside,
unnoticed, and gawk.
This building is huge, and so is the collapsed balloon. Even when not
inflated to its usual size the thing is still vast, spilling over the floor
like a rippling, off-coloured pond. No wonder the guards were
looking at it with such deference. It is truly magnificent.
But, in the hands of the raiders, also dangerous.
You rummage in your pack and feel for something to start a fire.
You’re lucky to scoop out a couple of pieces of flint. Clutching them
tightly, you strike them together and watch a couple of sparks spit
out, needing a few attempts before the flame catches on the material
of the balloon.
Whatever it’s made of, it’s flammable. The fire grows quickly and
grows tall, flames engulfing it easily. Thick plumes of smoke start to
come off of it. It’s time to leave before the plan backfires and you
choke yourself.
You steal back the way you came in, tucking yourself round the
corner of the building and making sure to leave the door open. It
isn’t long before someone spies the grey clouds coming from inside
the
building and raises the alarm, and soon raiders are running to and
fro from the site to try to extinguish the blaze. This commotion is
exactly the sort of thing you need to explore the area unimpeded.
Add Balloon Sabotage (E.20) to your character sheet.
Look for prisoners – Turn to 18.9.
Find who’s in charge – Turn to 18.15.
18.18
Flinging the guards as hard as you can, you try to make them let go
of you… and then you feel a hard punch to your stomach. You double
over in pain and retch as an elbow is slammed down onto the back
of your head. Dizzy and with your vision swimming, all you can do is
try to keep your feet under you as you’re dragged along by
unforgiving hands, your gaolers taking you by force when you won’t
go quietly. You watch Gaia disappear into one of the other buildings
and try to fight off a wave of nausea.
Turn to 18.10.
18.19
You try to step out, to go off towards one of the other buildings, but
a raider walks past you and you’re lucky to pull your leg out of the
way in time. They don’t spot you and continue on their patrol.
Furrowing your brow, you take a quick look around and notice just
how busy the place actually is. You can spy at least a couple dozen
other people around.
No, if you want to explore, you’re going to have to cause a
distraction… and that means sabotage. It isn’t the way you wanted to
do things but it looks like it’s the way you’re going to be forced to
act.
Turn to 18.7.
CHAPTER 19
RETURN TO THE BASE
19.1
You grip the strange box tight in your hands. You vaguely wonder if
you should be wearing anything more protective –
you can’t imagine that your overcoat and gloves would do much to
shield you from the radiation waves. You really don’t want to carry
it for any longer than you need to.
Dagger’s base doesn’t loom over the horizon so much as it gradually
appears. It’s difficult to loom when the highest building is only two
storeys, and yet the place still gives off waves of malice. Of course,
that’s because you know who’s in there. A tribe of vicious raiders,
led by a woman who doesn’t really seem to fear anything...
and of course, Gaia, who’s at their mercy until you return.
You suppress a shudder. You can’t stand here and worry about Gaia.
All you can do now is try to get her out, making good on your part of
the trade and hoping Dagger lives up to her end.
You’ve got a feeling keeping promises isn’t something she’s known
for.
There are two guards stationed at the gate of the compound.
They don’t seem to be paying as much attention as they should be,
and one of them violently elbows the other out of his daydream as
he sees you. They both tentatively put their hands on their guns as
you
approach, as if they have no idea how to use them should the need
arise. You really hope it doesn’t.
“Stop!” calls out one of the guards, which you do immediately.
You’re only about ten feet away from them now, close enough to talk
without shouting, close enough that you can see the looks of
uncertainty on their faces – close enough that if they fired a shot, it’s
unlikely to miss.
“What do you want?” asks the second guard after a moment’s pause,
as if they were silently trying to decide between them who should
speak next.
Ask to speak to Dagger – Turn to 19.2.
Show them the Uranium – Turn to 19.3.
Show them Dagger’s Letter – Turn to 19.4, Needs Letter from
Dagger.
19.2
“Iwant to speak to Dagger,” you say. You were hoping that your
knowledge of her name would be enough to get the guards to let you
in, but they stand steadfast. Perhaps her infamy is more far-reaching
than you thought; perhaps Dagger is a name known throughout this
place.
“Yeah? Lotsa people wanna talk to Dagger. Why should we let you
in?”
“Because she told me to go and pick this up for her.” You wave the
box as best as you can.
“She wanted you to go and get her a box?”
“No, she wanted me to—”
They don’t give you time to answer. The first guard tugs at the other
so his ear is down to mouth height. They put their heads together
and discuss something quietly before straightening up again with
firm expressions.
“Let us look inside the box,” says guard one. “We’ve gotta make sure
it’s not a bomb or something.”
That doesn’t seem like a brilliant idea, you’ve done your best not to
open it yourself. In fact, you have no idea what uranium even looks
like. It could be a remarkably bad idea.
Explain why it’s dangerous – Turn to 19.5, Needs Knowledge.

Let them look – Turn to 19.3.
Push past them – Turn to 19.6.
19.3
The box is only kept shut by two deadbolts. It looks like there was
once a place for a lock, but instead there’s a slightly lighter patch of
metal, suggesting it was ripped off long ago.
It’s a simple matter for you to open the box, and with a sigh you lift
the lid and show it to the guards, sneaking a look at it for the first
time.
It’s a box of metal discs. Grey, almost silvery flat things, maybe half a
dozen of them. They aren’t glowing with a green buzz like the vault
had cartoonishly suggested irradiation looked like, they just sit
there. You worry that keeping the box open for too long will be bad
for the three of you, but you don’t feel any different. Just
apprehensive.
The guards come closer and look at the box with furrowed brows.
One of them pokes the quarry with the nose of his gun. Nothing
happens.
“And why do you have this?” asks the first guard, still eyeing the box
suspiciously as if he doesn’t quite trust it not to explode.
“Dagger sent me to get it” – Turn to 19.7.
“It’s a gift for the boss” – Turn to 19.8.
19.4
Awkwardly, you hitch the box onto your hip and use your free hand
to reach round your back and root around in your bag. The guards
watch you curiously as you hold out the wrinkled piece of paper to
them. One of them takes it with his forefinger and thumb and
smooths it out.
“What the hell does this say?” he asks. Right, of course. It’s written in
your language.
“It’s a letter from Dagger asking me to come here. And she won’t be
very happy if you’re making her wait just because you don’t believe
me…”
You trail off just long enough for the guards to pale. They can clearly
fill in the blanks themselves. They shuffle to the sides and wave you
in through the gate; it’s easy enough to remember the way to
Dagger’s building of choice, you just hope she’ll be glad to see you.
If you have Radium, turn to 19.9b.
Otherwise, Turn to 19.9.
19.5
“Iwouldn’t open it if I were you,” you begin, your voice holding just
enough intrigue for the second guard to pipe up with a
‘why not?’.
You begin to run down the history of this box, what uranium was
used for, what caused the Old World to be levelled to the ground.
The guards are in turn enraptured and scared, looking from you to
the box as if they expect it to burst from your arms and knock them
both dead. As you finish explaining about atomic bombs, the two of
them just stare at you, dumbfounded.
“So if you open that box, it might melt our faces off?” asks one of
them, who’s unable to keep the tremor from his voice.
“Yes,” you say. No is the real answer (probably), but it’s easier to lie
to them and get this whole ordeal over with.
“Then why did you bring it here? ” asks the other, bewildered.
“Dagger sent me to get it” – Turn to 19.7.
“It’s a gift for the boss” – Turn to 19.8.
19.6
This is exhausting. You don’t have time to stand here and go through
the intricacies of atomic warfare and why this box is dangerous, and
why you really, really want to get it off your hands. Taking
advantage of their surprise, you cross the few feet to the gate and
shove them both out of the way.
Yes, they have guns, but neither of them look like they really know
how to use them.
You hear them shout as you push past, but you don’t stop; you haul
the box onto one hip and throwing open the gate in front of you.
You get about twenty feet into the compound before you feel one of
the guards butt you in the back with the end of his rifle. You fall
forward, winded, and turn to see them aiming down their sights on
you.
“You’d better get on the ground right now,” says one. It’s likely if you
comply you’ll still end up in front of Dagger, but in a much less
pleasing position… or they’ll throw you in jail. Neither option sounds
ideal. But then again, you might see Gaia. It’s worth the risk.
Fight them off – Turn to 19.12, Needs Hand-to-Hand Combat.
Demand they take you to see Dagger now – Turn to 19.10.
Let them take you to a cell – Turn to 19.11a, Needs Gaia Seen.
Let them take you to a cell – Turn to 19.11.
19.7
“Dagger sent you to get it?” parrots the first guard.
“Yes, I went over to the base in the ruins and got it
out.”
“On your own?”
“Yep.”
“But there must be like, thirty guys there!” says the second guard,
eyes wide with awe. You shrug.
“I guess.”
“How did you do it?”
The first guard elbows his companion, clearly unhappy to see him
getting so interested, but they both listen when you launch into your
story.
It’s a shortened version of how Dagger struck a deal with you and
you got into the base to retrieve the uranium. You consider leaving
out some of the more unsavoury details, but then you imagine the
guards would probably enjoy hearing them so you don’t skip over
anything. When you finish, the second guard looks like he wants to
burst into applause.
“You’re like a one-person army! No wonder she wanted you on her
side!”
You shrug. Maybe, maybe not. You’ve done what you’ve had to do to
survive. And right now, all you really want to do is get to Gaia.
“Al right, you can go in,” relents the first guard, holding open the
chain-link gate for you. “But you better know we’re keeping an eye
on you.”
“Sure,” you say, doing whatever it takes to get this over with. You
walk into the camp and with your prize heavy in your hands you
make your way over to Dagger’s favoured building.
19.8
“Agift, eh?” asks the first guard, cocking a brow at his companion.
“A gift…” replies the second, catching on. Before you can react, one
of them has shoved the butt of his gun into your stomach, causing
you to double over in pain, and the other snatches the box from your
hands.
“We’ll be taking that, then,” he grins. You watch them scurry through
the gate with your uranium with pained, teary eyes.
It takes a while for you to catch your breath. The guard hit you quite
hard; you’re worried they might have ruptured something. But
that’s not the worst thing – the worst thing is that the uranium was
the only bargaining chip you had to free Gaia. Without it, you’re
basically powerless. You have no way to get her out now. Not unless
Dagger has something else she wants you to do, something worse.
It’s only when you’ve managed to crawl up into a sitting position
that you see the two guards coming back with a third figure, a larger,
far more dominating one. As they get closer you can see the smaller
two have strange looks on their faces. They look… almost
embarrassed. When they get to the gate the first guard shoves the
uranium box into your hands as their escort watches them coolly
before turning to you.
“Dagger will be happy to see you now,” says the taller man, who you
recognise as one of Dagger’s entourage. The two guards don’t look
you in the eye. You feel a smirk on your lips as you realise it’s likely
they’ll be punished by her, if they haven’t been already. You follow
the tall raider into the camp, off towards Dagger’s building, gripping
the uranium that’s rightfully yours.
Otherwise, Turn to 19.9a.
19.9A
The building is just as small and stuffed as you remember it being,
but there’s been some rearranging since last time you were here.
The war table that took up the majority of the space has been
cleared off and moved to the side, allowing room for an impromptu
sparring space. Being watched by the rest of the crew, Dagger and
another raider are circling each other. He has at least a foot of height
on her and holds a mallet as a weapon. All she has is a dagger. How
fitting.
The crowd cheers as the man takes a swing, but she’s fast, very fast .
The head of the mallet slams onto the ground with a loud bang!
Before he can pick it up again, Dagger is next to him, slashing him
with her blade over and over. He cries out in pain but she doesn’t
relent, a look of glee on her face as she draws blood. The man roars
and smashes into her with his shoulder, knocking her off her feet. It
only lasts for a second, and she quickly rights her posture; this time
she nimbly leaps onto his back. He tries to shake her off, but she
locks her ankles together over his stomach to keep her grip,
plunging the dagger over and over again into his neck. He yells in
pain and falls to the ground, unable to take the frenzied attack. As he
drops, she dismounts from him and lands softly on her feet.
You’re entranced. She makes fighting look like… not a dance, exactly,
but she adds a grace to it that you haven’t before seen in this place.
Here violence has been, well, violent, but Dagger makes it look like
an art, nonetheless. Now you understand how she got her name.
A couple of crowd members rush to the man and pick him up from
where he moans on the floor. Dagger is wiping her hands on her
clothes when she spots you and smiles.
“Ah, you’re here! Sorry my guards held you up. Rest assured, they
will be punished.” There’s a shine of glee in her eyes as she says that.
“Anyway, how did it go?”
You don’t want to answer that. Instead, you just put the uranium
down on the nearest flat surface, a small table with a couple of
unloaded pistols on it. Dagger grins and opens the box eagerly,
observing the contents and nodding before snapping the lid shut,
gesturing with her hand to summon a couple of men to take it away
and put it god knows where.
“Well, I’m certainly impressed. You did exactly what you said you
would. But…”
Your heart lurches. You knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Dagger does a
fake little pout as if she’s mulling something over.
“But I’ve grown so fond of little Gaia… it seems like such a shame to
let her go now…”
Remove Uranium from your inventory.
Reason with her – Turn to 19.13.
Attack her – Turn to 19.14, Needs Hand-to-Hand Combat.
19.9B
but there’s been some rearranging since last time you were here.
The wartable that took up the majority of the space has been cleared
off and moved to the side, allowing room for an impromptu sparring
space. Watched by the rest of the crew, Dagger and another raider
are circling each other. He has at least a foot of height on her and
holds a mallet as a weapon. All she has is a dagger. How fitting.
The crowd cheers as the man takes a swing, but she’s fast, very fast,
and the head of the mallet slams onto the ground with a loud bang!
before he can pick it up again. Dagger is next to him, slashing him
only lasts for a second, and she quickly rights her posture.
This time she nimbly leaps onto his back. He tries to shake her off,
but she locks her ankles together over his stomach to keep her grip,
plunging the dagger over and over again into his neck. He yells in
pain and falls to the ground, unable to take the frenzied attack. As he
drops, she dismounts from him and lands softly on her feet.
an art, nonetheless. Now you understand how she got her name.
“Ah, you’re here! Sorry my guards held you up. Rest assured, they
will be punished.” There’s a shine of glee in her eyes as she says that.
“Anyway, how did it go?”
You don’t answer. Instead you put the radium down in front of her.
It’s not what she asked for but you’re hoping – praying – she can’t
tell the difference.
You put the box of radium down on the nearest table. Dagger grins
and opens it eagerly. She eyes its contents and a look of confusion
passes her face, but she quickly shakes it off, as if she doesn’t want
to be seen uneducated about something she apparently has so much
authority on. She snaps the lid shut and gestures a couple of her
entourage to take it away and put it god knows where.
would. But…”
Remove Radium (O.27) from your inventory.
19.9
but there’s been some rearranging since last you were here. The war
table that took up the majority of the space has been cleared off and
moved to the side, allowing for an impromptu sparring space. Being
watched by the rest of the crew, Dagger and another raider are
circling each other. He has at least a foot of height on her and holds a
mallet as a weapon. All she has is a dagger.
The crowd cheers as the man takes a swing but she’s fast, very fast.
The head of the mallet slams onto the ground with a loud bang!
Before he can pick it up again, Dagger is next to him, slashing him
only lasts for a second, and she quickly rights her posture; this time,
she nimbly leaps onto his back. He tries to shake her, but she locks
her ankles together over his stomach to keep her grip, plunging the
dagger over and over again into his neck. He yells in pain and falls to
the ground, unable to take the frenzied attack. As he drops she
dismounts from him and lands softly on her feet.
an art. Now you understand how she got her namesake.
“Ah, you’re here! Glad you got back all right,” She scans you with her
eyes. “Well, all right enough, anyway. How did it go?”
You don’t want to answer that. Instead you just put the uranium
down on the nearest flat surface, a small table with a couple of
unloaded pistols on it. Dagger grins and opens the box eagerly,
observing the contents, nodding before snapping the lid shut and
gesturing with her hand to summon a couple of men to take it away
and put it god knows where.
would. But…”
Remove Uranium from your inventory.
19.10
“Take me to Dagger, now!” you tell them, your voice low and not
leaving room for argument. The first guard does anyway, though.
“Why should we take you to her? You just tried to break in.”
“Because otherwise, I’ll be angry.” The guard looks like he’s about to
interject, but what you says next shuts him up. “But no matter how
angry I am, that will be nothing compared to how angry Dagger will
be when she finds out you didn’t let me deliver this to her. Do you
want to take that chance?”
The guards pale and share a look. You’ve hit the nail on the head.
You’ve put the fear of god in them. Well, the fear of Dagger.
“All right,” says one, at last, “you can go.”
You remember the way to Dagger’s favoured building. The guards
escort you, but they don’t go in.
19.11
The guards take an arm each and bring you through the
compound, though they quickly find this to be awkward as you’re
still carrying the box of uranium. They rearrange themselves, one of
them snatching your delivery and the other one pulling you into an
armlock to continue bringing you into one of the smaller buildings.
It’s dim inside. Though the guards seem to want to handle you as
roughly as possible, you don’t put up any resistance, instead you
allow yourself to be pushed into a cage and have the door locked
behind you. The two of them leave you unceremoniously, taking the
box with them and arguing about what to do with it.
Even though you can feel the bruises forming, you were lucky.
You’re not alone.
“Gaia?” you call out. There’s a figure in the cell opposite who’s
bundled up in threadbare blankets, their knees drawn up to their
chest. But when they hear that name their head lifts up. Her head
lifts up and she calls your name back gently, her voice tentative and
full of hope that you imagine she’s not had for a long time.
“Yeah.” You can feel a smile forming on your face. “It’s me.”
Gaia jumps to her knees, scooting over to the bars awkwardly.
She squints in the darkness and then lets out a laugh, equal parts
genuinely happy to see you and amazed that you’re actually here.
“They told me you’d been here. I didn’t think it was true, I just
reckoned they were finding another way to torment me… but here
you are… fuck,” she summarises and that makes you laugh too. You
reach out through the cage and take her hands, which are rough and
thinner than you remember.
“Wait, why are you in here?” she asks, her face falling as she realises
you can’t do anything to help either of you when you’re also in a
cage.
“Partly because I pissed off some guards, partly because I wanted to
check you were all right.”
“I’m fine. Well, I’m all right, all things considered. I’d be better if you
were out there rather than in here, though,” she says, reaching
through the bars to cuff you round the head. You pretend to be hurt
and she chuckles. You can see she needs this. A reminder of
normality. You can’t imagine it’s been easy for her, stuck in here for
god knows how long.
You’re about to start thinking about escape plans when the door
opens again. The guards come shuffling in with another man, taller
than them by about a foot. Even in the low light, you can see the
looks on their faces are as if they’ve been scolded like naughty
children. The door to your cage is opened; you’re dragged out, and
the box is shoved back into your hands. You look between the three
faces to try to work out what’s going on.
“Sorry for the disruption,” says the tall man, who you vaguely
recognise as being one of Dagger’s entourage. “The boss’ll see you
now.”
He gestures for you to follow him. Throwing a look back at Gaia, she
shrugs. Obviously she can’t follow you, but these next few moments
might end up deciding if she goes free or not. With no other option,
you leave.
19.11A
The guards take an arm each and bundle you through the
compound, though they quickly find this to be awkward as you’re
still holding the box of uranium. They rearrange themselves, one of
them snatching your delivery, the other pulling you into an armlock
to continue pushing you into one of the smaller buildings.
It’s dim inside. Though the guards seem to want to handle you as
roughly as possible, you don’t put up any resistance, instead you
allow yourself to be pushed into a cage and have the door locked
behind you. The two of them leave you unceremoniously, taking the
box with them and arguing about what to do with it.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
Your head snaps round as you notice you aren’t alone. In the cage
next to you is Gaia. Even though she’s thin and bruised, a shadow of
the person you sailed to the Old World with, on her face is a giant
grin. It’s infectious – you’re glad to see her, too.
“Not to pick holes in whatever plan you have, but aren’t you meant
to be out there? ” She points to the sturdily fastened door. It’s dark
in here, but not so dark you can’t see how thin her hands are.
“Excuse me for wanting to check in on you. Next time I’ll leave you in
the lovely raider prison.”
“Well there’s no point checking in when we could be checking out! ”
“Terrible hotel. One star,” you say. It makes the two of you chuckle.
Neither of you have been to a hotel, of course; they don’t even exist
any more – they’re just another story you heard from the vault. Still,
it helps to lighten the mood in an otherwise desolate situation.
“So now what, great explorer?”
You’re about to start discussing escape plans when the door opens
again. The two guards come shuffling back in with another man, this
one taller than them by about a foot. Even in the low light, you can
see the looks on their faces are as if they’ve been scolded like
naughty children. The door to your cage is opened and the box
shoved back into your hands; you look between the three faces to
try to work out what’s going on.
“Sorry for the disruption,” says the tall man, who you vaguely
recognise as being one of Dagger’s entourage. “The boss’ll see you
now.”
He gestures for you to follow him. Throwing a look back at Gaia, she
shrugs. Without another option, you do.
19.12
You use the box as a weapon, swinging it round and catching one of
the guards in the side of the head. He yells and stumbles backwards,
clutching his hands to where you can see blood beginning to pour
out of the blunt-force wound. The second guard tries to fire a shot
but misses; he pulls the trigger too soon and sends the bullet into
the ground with a cloud of dust. You use the weight of the box to
help propel you backwards as you send a kick into his stomach. He
staggers, giving you enough of an opening to headbutt him. You feel
his nose crack under your forehead. A grin splinters over your face
as warm blood soaks your skin.
“What is going on out here?!”
The voice makes all three of you turn round. There’s a tall man
staring at you. You vaguely recognise him from your last visit – one
of Dagger’s group. He doesn’t look angry so much as perplexed that
a random visitor is taking on two armed guards and winning.
“This outsider came in through the gate without permission. We
were trying to – we were stopping them!” the guard quickly corrects
himself. The tall man takes a look at how much blood has been
spilled on either side and rolls his eyes.
“You’re the one with the uranium?” he asks you. You nod, holding up
the box.
“Come on, then. Boss has been waiting,” he says, gesturing for you to
follow him. You do, wiping the blood from your nose, pausing for
just a second. You decide it’s worth it and turn around to flip the
guards a rude gesture. They don’t return it, too busy watching, slack-
jawed.
You smile to yourself and keep going.
19.13
You breathe heavily, in through the nose and out through the mouth.
There’s no point in getting angry with her. This woman will only
respond with violence and you aren’t sure you can win that way. But
reasoning with her…
“Come on,” you say, “I fulfilled my end of the bargain. You need to
fulfil yours.”
“Why do I need to do anything?” She’s not looking at you; instead
she’s flipping her dagger between her fingers like a toy. She looks
bored.
“Because I could just as easily turn round and join another raider
group. Tell them you have uranium. Help them take over.”
A couple of members of her group don’t like that. They bristle and go
for their weapons, not drawing them yet, but making it known that
they have them. Dagger raises her eyebrows and finally looks up
again.
“I could throw you in a cell like your little friend,” she posits.
“I’d get out,” you say, with such certainty it causes her to look you in
the eyes for a long moment. You would, and she knows it. Then, she
rolls her eyes and clicks her fingers.
“Get the girl then. It’s one less mouth to feed, I suppose.”
“But boss, you don’t feed—”

The man who started talking is immediately shut up by a look from
Dagger. He heads off, out of the building, and after a few moments of
awkward silence returns with Gaia, her arm in one of his rough
hands. She looks at you with open-mouthed incredulity before she’s
shoved towards you.
The two of you embrace. You can feel from her heaving body that
Gaia clearly wants to cry with relief but is too stubborn to do it in
front of her captors. You’ve never loved her more.
“Now piss off, the both of you, before I change my mind,” says
Dagger, waving her hand flippantly. The two of you don’t need to be
told twice, hurrying away from the raider base, not sparing a second
glance for the guards who caused you so much trouble at the gate.
Though she’s tired, she refuses to stop walking until you can’t see
the base any more. Only then does Gaia allow herself to collapse at
the base of a big, sturdy tree.
Heal her wounds – Turn to 19.16, Needs Medicine.
Feed her – Turn to 19.17.
Cook a meal – Turn to 19.18, Needs Survival.
Talk to her – Turn to 19.19.
19.14
You’re exhausted. Exhausted, and angry, and you just want to see
your friend again. All of that adds up to you not thinking clearly, and
you pounce on the raider. You’re just as surprised by your actions as
she is.
You ball your hands into tight fists and take a swing. You sucker-
punch her in the face, not hard enough to try to break anything
important, but definitely enough to send her reeling. Your other fist
goes into her stomach, your knuckles hitting the underside of her
ribs and forcing her to choke out what air she has in her lungs.
Dazed, she tries to go for her weapon. It’s probably lucky that you’re
pulled off of her before she gets a chance to actually attack you. You
can’t imagine it would have gone well.
The raiders grip your arms with both hands, keeping them stretched
out behind you firmly, letting you know they’ll break your elbows if
they want.
Dagger is doubled over by her wartable, trying to catch her breath.
Surprisingly, she gestures for her guards to let you go. They do so,
but only when she insists with another wave, wiping blood from her
lip with her free hand. She looks you up and down and laughs.
“You’re a feisty one. I knew there was a reason I liked you.” She grins
and you see red on her teeth. She seems to enjoy it. “Go on, go and
get the other one.”
“Are you sure?” asks one of her goons, and she just nods while not
taking her eyes off you. You hear someone leave the room. You and
Dagger stare at each other for a long moment, her licking her lips to
taste her own blood, you remaining stoic and silent.
You hear the door open again. One of the raiders has Gaia in their
grasp, who’s desperately trying to fight herself free. When she sees
you she goes stock still. She’s shoved towards you without care, but
falls happily into your open arms. You can feel her breathing coming
out in judders as she tries to hold tears back, refusing to let her
captors see her as weak.
You’ve never loved her more.
Dagger, waving her hand flippantly, smeared with blood from your
fight. The two of you don’t need to be told twice, and hurry away
from the raider base, not sparing a second glance for the guards who
caused you so much trouble at the gate – except to give them a rude
hand gesture. Gaia is clearly exhausted but pushes onwards, pain
flashing over her face now and then, not wanting to stop until the
base is far out of sight. Only then does Gaia allow herself to collapse
at the base of a big, sturdy tree.
19.15
You remain silent. The two of you stare at each other for a long, long
moment. The rest of her group are clearly uncomfortable with this
and start edging their hands towards their weapons, waiting for
something to happen, expecting something to happen.
You refuse to engage with this woman any more than you need to,
so instead, you keep staring.
A smile begins to dawn on Dagger’s face, cracking it in two; it’s not a
pleasant smile, and it makes her look terrifying. It’s almost as if she
doesn’t know what smiling is meant to be for, and is using this as a
way to unsettle you, to show you that you should be fearful.
You stand firm. You need Gaia.
“Fine, give me the silent treatment,” she says at length. And then to a
guard, “Go and get the girl. I’ve got better things to do than have
staring competitions over prisoners I can’t be arsed to keep.”
“Are you sure, boss?”
“Don’t question me,” she says. Whoever spoke leaves the room.
The two of you keep staring. After a few long moments of awkward
silence, you hear the door open. Gaia is with the raider who left and
is shoved towards you, where she falls into your arms in an
embrace, clearly relieved if not surprised to see you. She squeezes

you so hard you can feel her ribs.
She needs food.
Dagger, waving her hand flippantly. The two of you don’t need to be
told twice, and hurry away from the raider base, not sparing a
second glance for the guards who caused you so much trouble at the
gate. Gaia’s face remains steely and focused the whole time, gripping
your hand like a vice. Though she’s clearly tired, she refuses to stop
until you can’t see the base any more. Only then does Gaia allow
herself to collapse at the base of a big, sturdy tree.
19.16
“Come on,” you say, rummaging in your pack to pull out your first
aid kit, “let me see what they’ve done to you.”
“Oh, it’s not that bad. The worst is the chafing from those shackles.”
She lifts her hands to show you the red, raw skin around her wrists.
You suck your breath in through your teeth, feeling a sting in your
own skin at the sight. “Save your stuff for someone who really needs
it.”
“You do really need it. Now let me do my job.”
She mutters, but relents. Despite her protests, you look her over, just
in case there’s anything she’s trying to hide. Although she’s thin and
bruised, it doesn’t seem like the raiders took a lot of time hurting
her, and the worst really is on her wrists.
You rub antiseptic over her tender skin and begin to bandage them –
it’s probably not needed, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.
Gaia flinches a bit, then rolls her hands experimentally to test out
the change. She seems happy and relaxes back again.
“I think I know how to find the others,” she says, taking you by
surprise.
“How?” You can barely contain the excitement in your voice.
“When they were taking me here, I passed a radio tower. To the

south. Only a few miles from here. I reckon if we kept walking that
way we’d find it. If we can find the group’s signal, we can tell them
where we are!”
You blink a few times. A radio tower? You have no idea how to use a
radio, but it’s definitely the best lead you have so far.
“All right, we camp tonight and head out tomorrow,” you say, but
Gaia hesitates.
“What?”
“Can we… just leave them there? Dagger’s dangerous, and you
brought her something potentially deadly. Not that I’m
complaining!”
she adds, holding up her hands in defence. “I just… if there’s
anything else you want to do, I understand. I can always wait a
couple of days for you at the tower.”
You mull over her words. Maybe there’s some truth in them.
END.
Option 1:
Go with Gaia to the Radio Tower
Add Gaia in Tow (E.12) to your character sheet.
Go to The Radio Tower (Chapter 25).
Option 2:
Meet Gaia at the Radio Tower later
Add Gaia’s Badge (O.22) to your inventory.
Option 3:
Exact revenge on Dagger’s base
Add The Radio Tower (Chapter 25, L.25) and The Push (Chapter
20, L.20) to map.
Go to The Push (Chapter 20).
19.17
You rummage in your bag and pull out some rations. They aren’t
much, but Gaia snatches them and eats them thankfully. It’s not a
pretty sight. It looks like she hasn’t had a proper meal in some time,
and she has to force herself to slow down so she isn’t sick. You’re
about to ask how she is when she speaks.
“I think I know how to find the others,” she says, taking you by
surprise.
“What?!” You shuffle towards her, ready to listen.
south. A few miles south of here. If we can call the others, we can tell
them where we are!”
You blink a few times. A radio tower? It’s surprising, but it’s
definitely the best lead you have so far. If you can get it to work…
you can go home.
“All right… let’s get some sleep and go tomorrow,” you say, but Gaia
hesitates.
“Can we… just leave those raiders? Dagger’s dangerous, and you
complaining!” she adds, holding up her hands in defence, happy to
be saved. “I just… if there’s anything else you want to do, I

understand. I can always wait a couple of days for you at the tower.”
You mull over her words. Maybe there’s some truth in them.
Maybe you need to stop Dagger before she does something awful.
END.
Option 1:
Option 2:
Option 3:
20, L.20) to map.
19.18
“Can you light a fire?” you ask, taking your small
foldaway pan out of your pack. Gaia nods and begins
to collect tinder as you look at the area in which you’ve stopped.
There are a few trees around, and at their bases are mushrooms –
mushrooms you know to be edible. You start harvesting as Gaia
lights the fire, and before long you have a little stew going. It takes a
while to cook, but when it’s done Gaia slurps down her portion and
asks for seconds.
It’s nice. At the end of the meal, you’re left feeling happy and full.
The happiest and fullest you’ve felt for a long time, honestly. Gaia
leans back against the base of a tree and lets out a belch. It sends the
two of you into fits of laughter. For a moment, it’s like nothing bad
has happened at all.
“So. I think I know how we can find the group.”
“What?” It doesn’t quite sink in until she starts to explain further.
south. Only a few miles from here. I reckon, if we keep walking that
way we’ll find it. If we can find the group’s signal, we can tell them
where we are. Or we can go to them or… I don’t know, but we can
get home. ”
“Gaia, that’s… amazing.”
She smiles.
“Hey, I’m just the messenger. Thank me when we get home.”
Gaia hesitates.
“Can we… just leave those guys there? Dagger’s dangerous, and you
complaining!” she adds, holding up her hands in defence. “I just… if
there’s anything else you want to do, I understand. I can always wait
a couple of days for you at the tower.”
You mull over her words. Maybe… maybe you aren’t done with
Dagger quite yet.
END.
Add Wild Mushrooms (F.19) to your notebook.
Option 1:
Option 2:
Option 3:
20, L.20) to map.
19.19
“How are you doing?” you ask, going on one knee to get to her
height. She chuckles weakly.
“I’m tired. I’ve been in there for… god, I don’t even
know how long.”
In hindsight, it was a stupid question to ask. Gaia looks incredibly
tired. You understand how she feels. She flexes her fingers, and out
in the daylight you can see how thin she is. You can see every
ligament in her hand, and the spider’s web of veins beneath her skin.
“Gaia, I know you’re tired, but do you know where the others are?”
It seems like a thoughtless question, but you need to get Gaia back
home. She needs care that you can’t provide on your own.
She furrows her brow over her closed eyes.
“I think so. At least, maybe we can find them. When they were taking
me here, I passed a radio tower. To the south. Only a few miles from
here. I reckon, if we keep walking that way we’d find it.
Find the group’s signal.”
Gaia hesitates, opening her tired eyes to look at you sombrely.
“Can we… just leave them there? Those raiders? Dagger’s dangerous,
and you brought her something potentially deadly. Not that I’m
complaining… I just… if there’s anything else you want to do, I
understand. I can always wait a couple of days for you at the tower.”
You don’t like the idea of sending her off on her own, but at the same
time, she has a point. Those raiders are far more dangerous now,
and it’s directly because of you. Maybe you need to do something to
even the playing field again.
END.
Option 1:
Option 2:
Option 3:
20, L.20) to map.
CHAPTER 20
THE PUSH
20.1
The world is quieter without Gaia around. Well, perhaps quieter
isn’t quite what you mean – her incessant chattering was always
good for filling the silence, but perhaps emptier is more appropriate.
Even when she was asleep, having her nearby made you feel
happier. Now that she’s gone, you can’t help but miss her painfully.
When you told her your plan to take down the raider base, she
bravely volunteered her help. It was impossible to miss the tremble
in her voice and shake in her hands; you knew she had already been
through enough at that place. It wouldn’t be fair to make her go
back.
Instead, you told her to go ahead to the radio tower and wait for
you.
You didn’t miss the look of relief on her face.
It’s early morning now. The sun has just breached the horizon.
For once, it isn’t overcast, and the soft sunlight illuminates
everything with a buttery yellow light. You’re perched on a hill a few
hundred feet from the base, low enough to the ground that nobody
will be able to see you. It seems the raiders aren’t early risers, but a
few of them are making their way through the compound,
completing whatever tasks they’ve been delegated. It’s hard to see
from here, but none of them appear to be armed. If you want to do
anything
aggressive, now might be the time to act, or you could wait for more
targets to appear. Keeping an eye on the happenings below, you
begin to consider your options for how best to dismantle this place.
Shoot every person you can – Turn to 20.2, Needs Sharpshooter.
Poison their food supply – Turn to 20.3, Needs Medicine OR
Chemistry.
Sabotage their weapons – Turn to 20.4, Needs Engineering.
Investigate the base for something to destroy – Turn to 20.5.
Investigate the base for something to destroy – Turn to 20.5a,
Needs Balloon Sabotage.
Try to sow seeds of unrest amongst the raiders – Turn to 20.6.
20.2
What’s the point in trying something new when you have something
here that works so well? Your gun hasn’t let you down yet, and you
hope that it’s not going to start now.
You take your time finding a good spot, checking your gun over for
any imperfections and practising your aim. Then you load it and put
a line of bullets next to the trigger, nearby for easy reloading. Not
only does the extra time let you feel more relaxed, like the chances
of a misfire are slim, it also helps to keep you busy while more
raiders come out. There’s no point in opening fire on them if half of
them are hidden. You want to take out as many as you can. Each
dead raider means one less scumbag hurting innocent people.
It’s not that you feel righteous when you fire the first bullet, but you
do feel a sense you’re doing the right thing when you see a raider fall
to their knees in a pool of blood. The others around them start
flocking to the corpse, checking on their comrade, and with cold
efficiency you start taking down as many of them as you can. You get
a good dozen before they fully realise what’s happening. You see
some of them begin to try to arm themselves with whatever
weapons they have on hand; others just scream and run for cover.
Regardless
of their path, you are not merciful. Wanting to save bullets, you try
to aim so you hit multiple raiders at once, piercing one’s skull before
sinking into the chest or stomach of another. It isn’t easy, but you
are nothing if not an expert. Soon, the grey of the courtyard has been
stained with puddles of red, and there are too many raider bodies
lying still for you to count.
You could stay where you are and pick off anyone else that comes
near, or you might have deflated the raiders’ numbers enough to
risk a full-frontal assault. You finger the trigger as you make a
choice.
Stay on the hill – Turn to 20.7.
Run headlong into the camp – Turn to 20.8.
20.3
Everyone needs to eat, you reckon. If these people are anything like
the other groups you’ve seen on your travels, they probably only
have one stock of food. If you mess with it, it’ll affect the whole
camp.
You take advantage of the early hour to slip down the hillside and
make your way towards the compound. Anyone who is awake isn’t
aware enough to catch you, too tired and bleary-eyed to make out
the solitary figure creeping through the grass to the fence. You
vaguely remember spying a hole in there last time, and you’re
fortunate to find it’s still there. You shove your pack through first
and then try to follow it, wiggling down in the dirt beneath you and
using your elbows to clear a path. It doesn’t take long for you to
cross the barrier, back inside the raiders’ home.
You have to keep hugging the side of the buildings to make sure
nobody spots you, but it seems nobody is awake enough to notice
anything amiss. You thank whatever god is looking out for you and
go further into the camp.
Looking back, you wish you’d asked Gaia if she could give you an
indication of the layout of the camp, but then again you suppose she
spent most of her time inside a cage. It’s unlikely she’d have any
idea – in fact, you’ve probably seen more of this place than she has.
You curse yourself for not paying more attention as you begin
sneaking looks in windows to see if one of them is a kitchen.
It takes a while, but you find it. Peeking in through dirty glass, you
make out what looks to be a food preparation area, empty cans and
glass jars lying scattered about on grubby metal surfaces. There’s a
man stirring something in a pot. He coughs wildly into his hand and
then uses it to add a handful of salt to the broth. You wince.
It seems to take an age for the man to leave his post, but eventually
you see him yawn and leave the building, taking the pot off the heat
and heading for another smaller structure you assume to be the
latrines. You take advantage of this, slipping through the door
behind him and into the kitchen.
It’s as warm in here as it is messy. You wish you had time to take off
your coat, but you have business to attend to. There is, of course, the
industrial-sized pot of – soup? It’s hard to tell – on the old stove, but
you can also see an open larder full of uniform canned food.
Maybe pre-war. It might look bad on the outside, but it’s likely still
edible. You rummage in your pack for something to slip into the food
before you pause.
You can’t be completely sure only raiders are going to eat this.
After all, you know they keep prisoners like Gaia. Of course, she was
the only one in the cell when you freed her, but who’s to say they
don’t have other prison blocks? If you poison all of their food, there’s
no way of telling if innocent people will be caught up in the
massacre.
You suppose there are other options. You don’t have to add
something to the stew that will kill them, after all… a raider who’s
puking and shitting can’t do any damage if they can’t get away from
the toilet.
Kill them – Turn to 20.9.

Make them sick – Turn to 20.10.
Destroy all the food instead – Turn to 20.11.
20.4
They can’t cause damage if they aren’t armed. Machetes and knives
will still be a problem, and you know how handy their boss is with a
dagger, but guns are definitely more dangerous for them to keep
around in the long run. If you destroy them, they should be much
less of a threat to any other people.
It’s still early enough in the morning that nobody notices you slip
down the hill, trying to keep to the grass and cover your descent.
Whatever raiders are awake at this hour are probably grunts forced
to do the dirty work, and they’re far too preoccupied to notice you
sneak over to the hole you know is in their fence. You push your
pack through and scramble through the dirt until you’re inside the
compound. Soon, you’re back inside the base, albeit far less welcome
than last time.
It doesn’t take you long to find the armoury. It’s quite an obvious
building compared to everything else – you see raiders enter it
unarmed and exit with guns; it isn’t difficult to put two and two
together.
You creep over to the building, darting from wall to wall when
you’re sure there are no eyes on you. You don’t want to go in
through the front, but you’re lucky that there’s a back door that’s
been propped open. You think that’s quite a trusting move for
raiders… and then decide that actually, if someone has a gun but
hasn’t been assigned one, it’s going to be obvious where they got it
from and Dagger will probably take action accordingly.
You shudder. You don’t want to think about the sort of punishment
Dagger doles out.
You sneak in through the door and come into a small room full of
guns. There’s another door opposite you, which probably leads to
another area; the room you’re in is far too small to take up the whole
building. There’s no time to worry about that, though. You have a job
to do.
Setting your pack down, you begin to take apart each gun, fiddling
with them just enough so that they will look fine but will be unable
to fire. You shove a few handfuls of bullets into your pack as well –
best to squirrel them away so that if the raiders do get them
working again, they have nothing to actually use.
The work is quick and only gets quicker as your hands remember
the motions. Soon, you’re able to deconstruct the weapons without
really thinking. This might be your downfall as you allow yourself to
get complacent and daydream; you don’t hear the door open behind
you. In fact, you only become aware someone else is in the room too
when they ask, “What are you doing here?!”
Your head snaps up to see a man watching you with wide eyes.
He’s certainly a raider, but on the older side of middle age, a wispy
beard on his chin and wrinkles on his face. You could lie to him, or
you could try to fight him – you might be successful with either, but
frustratingly you won’t know until you try.
Claim to be a new member of the group – Turn to 20.12.
Run away – Turn to 20.13.
Tussle with him – Turn to 20.14.
20.5
The raiders spread destruction and hardship; maybe it’s time they
finally had a taste of their own medicine.
You sneak down the hill to the gap in the fence. You keep close to the
ground, crawling with your knees and elbows to try to use the tall
grass as cover, but nobody seems to spot you. Everyone that’s awake
this early are clearly grunts, forced to do the early jobs nobody else
wants, their tiredness and bleary-eyed commitment to finishing
their tasks acting as better camouflage for you than an actual
disguise could ever be.
You push your pack through the hole in the chainlink and wiggle
through after it, undulating your body to push yourself back into the
raider camp. You stand up and collect yourself before hiding against
a wall. Pausing for a moment, you try to see if anyone has spotted
you; you hear no cries of alarm, so you allow yourself to relax before
you begin to flit from building to building, peeking in through
windows to observe what they have inside.
Your mission is quick – you don’t want to linger longer than you
have to in case anyone notices how out of place you are, but your
recon leads you to discover two very important things.
First, there’s one building where the raiders are building some sort
of flying device which seems to focus around a balloon. The design is
strange to you, but it seems like the balloon is large enough to lift a
couple of people up in the air with it. That sort of equipment in
raider hands is undoubtedly dangerous.
Second, you found some sort of electronics workshop. It holds three
machines you have seen before, but only in your textbooks on the
old world. They’re motorised vehicles – or, they’re meant to be.
You watch for a moment as a raider tries to work on one, only to get
annoyed and throw a spanner at a wall. He curses and leaves the
room, leaving the machines unattended.
Destroy the balloon tent – Turn to 20.15.
Try to destroy the machines – Turn to 20.16.
Try to steal one of the machines – Turn to 20.19, Needs Knowledge
OR Engineering.
20.5A
The raiders spread destruction and hardship; maybe it’s time they
had a taste of their own medicine.
You sneak down the hill to the gap in the fence. You keep low to the
ground, crawling with your knees and elbows, to use the tall grass as
cover; nobody seems to spot you. Whoever is awake at this hour is
clearly a grunt, forced to do the early jobs nobody else wants, their
tiredness and bleary-eyed commitment to finishing their tasks
acting as better camouflage for you than the nature around you
could ever be.
You push your pack through the hole and wiggle through after it,
undulating your body to push through and back into the raider
camp.
You stand up and collect yourself quickly before hiding against a
wall, careful of any watchful eyes. Pausing for a moment, you try to
see if anyone has spotted you, but when you hear no cries of alarm,
you begin to flit from building to building, peeking in through
windows to observe what they have inside.
Your mission is quick – you don’t want to linger longer than you
have to, in case anyone notices how out of place you are. Of course
you already know of the balloon the raiders have been working on –
it wasn’t too long ago you destroyed it. It was valuable, though –
there’s a good chance it’s being rebuilt. You store this information
away as you go on your recon and find one other important thing.
An electronics workshop. There are three machines in there that
you have seen before, but only in your textbooks on the Old World.
They’re motorised vehicles. Or, they’re meant to be. You watch for a
moment as a raider tries to work on one, only to get annoyed and
throw a spanner at a wall. He curses and leaves the room, leaving
the machines unattended.
Destroy the balloon tent – Turn to 20.15.
Try to destroy the machines – Turn to 20.16.
Try to steal one of the machines – Turn to 20.19, Needs Knowledge
OR Engineering.
20.6
The plan you settle on is going to take time, but if you can pull it off,
it might be the end of this raider base for good. It’s worth it, you
think, if it can help the people of this land have one less group to
worry about.
You send a thought to Gaia, asking her to wait for you, just a little
while longer.
Then, you bury your pack in the dirt, as well as your badge showing
you come from the New World. You don’t want to risk taking
anything more than you need into this place with you. Then, you
spend a moment to muss yourself up – dishevelling your clothes,
griming up your face, wildly fluffing your hair – and hope you look
enough like one of the raiders to get away with what you’re about to
do.
Your heart in your chest, you sneak down to the hole you spied
before in the fence, and sneak into the raider camp. After that, you
just try to blend in.
You do quite a good job of it that first day. Nobody seems to
recognise you, which was your main worry. You join groups and
help where needed, mostly lugging things off carts and into
storerooms, mentally taking stock of everything you see. The raiders
don’t talk
much as they work, which is definitely a boon. You do your best to
keep your head down and fit in.
Night draws on and raiders begin to head to their bunks. You follow
the crowd of the most grunt-looking ones, waiting for them to all get
to bed before you spy a spare cot and go to sit on it.
“Who the fuck are you?”
You turn and see a woman staring at you. Her straw-like hair is
pulled into tight plaits and she’s missing her front teeth. A couple of
others are looking now too, clearly curious about the answer to her
question.
“New recruit,” you say, looking her dead in the eye and daring her to
challenge you.
“Where from?”
This new voice is gruff, but they speak softly. A younger man with
orange hair addresses you from the bunk next to you. He doesn’t
seem angry, unlike his counterpart, so you address him.
“The ship,” you say. He must know where you’re talking about
because he nods.
“Didn’t realise we had anyone come from there,” he tells you.
“Well, they made an exception,” you state. He shrugs.
“Don’t worry about Anna. She’s always in a shit mood. I’m Dom.”
He offers you a nod, which you return. The blonde woman, Anna,
just glares a little longer before she bunks down for the night.
It’s that easy. They accept you from that moment. You thought you
might need to be wilier, but they seem to have believed what you’ve
said as fact. You spend the next week adjusting to the raider
lifestyle. It isn’t very interesting, and there isn’t much camaraderie
in the group, but they seem to tolerate each other’s presence
because it’s what being part of the camp demands. You spend your
time
busying yourself with the grunt work, hiding from any higher-up
raiders who might know your face… and listening.
Anna is the most vocal in your barracks, constantly complaining
about the raiders with better positions than her – specifically,
Dagger’s inner circle. Despite disliking her loud and continuous
grumpiness, the others all seem to quietly agree. There’s a definite
hostility towards the more ‘important’ members of the raiding
party.
The only thing that counters this is their genuine excitement about
the new project that’s being undertaken, the balloon project,
something that will give them an edge over the other raiding clans.
It seems to be the topic of conversation most discussed in the brief
chatter of mealtimes and bed.
You spend a week hiding in their ranks before you decide what to
do, how best to move this forward.
Kill one of the higher-ups and blame it on a plan by the others –
Turn
to 20.17.
Convince the grunts to steal the balloon themselves – Turn to 20.18.
20.7
You keep firing bullet after bullet. You’re beginning to get hand
cramps, but you can’t give up now. Each move of the finger is
another raider dead, and that’s more important than personal
discomfort.
Then, you notice something interesting. There’s a group gathering at
the gate, about a dozen raiders with their own guns.
They’ve spotted you and are coming up the hill, scrambling to get to
you and firing desperately. You try to put your own bullets in them,
and though those you hit in the head go down, the others keep
coming. You furrow your brow before you realise they must have
some sort of bulletproof vests on. Unless you aim just right, your
bullets aren’t going to do a damn thing.
Stay grounded and pick them off – Turn to 20.21.
20.8
Time for a full-frontal assault. You snatch all the bullets still on the
ground and make your way down the hill, tripping slightly with the
speed you’re going.
A couple of raiders spot you approaching, but they don’t have time
to react before you’ve shot them in the head. Screams pipe up from
scared and confused people, but that only helps you aim. Here, you
really can make more effective work of your bullets, and when the
raiders who die have weapons on them, you can snatch up more
ammo to keep firing.
This isn’t to say you don’t get hit a couple of times. You feel a nasty
graze on your shoulder, and between shots you turn to find it
bleeding. A young, wide-eyed boy stares at you with his own rifle in
his hands, terrified you’ve noticed him as your assailant, and you put
him down with a bullet through the eye.
Soon, the camp is silent.
There’s only one place left to go.
Dagger’s door breaks down with a slam of your foot, and you fire
two bullets into the guards either side of her – they were too slow to
even react. Dagger stares at you with wide eyes. You’re a good
fifteen feet away, and she has no long-range weapon except her
dagger; even then, she only has one shot. You look down the scope
at her – she’s completely at your mercy.
“Don’t kill me,” she says, and there’s an element of vulnerability
you’ve never heard in her voice before.
Kill her – Turn to 20.22.
Don’t kill her – Turn to 20.23.
20.9
Stuff it. You don’t even know if they have any prisoners; you’re
probably just getting too much in your own head. You rummage
around in your pack as quickly as you can, until you find your kit.
Quickly mixing together something nasty from the resources you
can find there, you dump it into the steaming cooking pot. For good
measure, you also add some to whatever open jars and cans you can
find in the larder to make sure there’s enough for everyone. Then,
you scurry out of the building and out of the compound until you’re
safely back on the top of your hill, hidden away so you can watch the
outcome of your actions.
It takes until evening to get a payoff. It’s slow going, with the
weakest of the raiders going down first, collapsing to their knees
and reaching out with desperate hands to those who rush over –
until they begin to double over, too. Even with the electric lights of
the compound, you can’t make out a lot of what’s happening through
the darkness.
You know the effects, though. People will be coughing up blood, feel
an awful pain that starts in the stomach and echoes throughout the
body, before blacking out due to the most intense pain they’ve ever
felt, never to open their eyes again.
You fall asleep to the sounds of horrified screams.
You wake with the dawn the next morning. You didn’t put up your
tent, just in case someone was still alive and spotted your little
encampment, so you slept in your bedroll under the stars. This
means you wake up with a small layer of frost over you, making you
sneeze. You wince, worrying the sound has drawn attention, but the
raider camp is still silent.
You pack your belongings and slowly head to the gate. Nobody is
moving around inside, not like yesterday morning. Instead, frost-
covered corpses litter the ground. You enter, uninterrupted, and
shake a couple of the bodies with your foot. Whether it’s from rigor
mortis or the cold, they’re frozen in place.
You take a while to pick through the now silent camp, taking
anything of use. You’re a bit disappointed – for a raider
headquarters, you’d expected more interesting things. You take a
few cans of unopened food, but everything else is either too big or
you don’t really know what it is. It’s all mechanical remnants of the
Old World.
The last stop you make is Dagger’s building. You have to shove the
door open and quickly find the cause – the body of one of her guards
is lying in the doorway, his heavy corpse acting as a doorstop.
Dagger herself sits in her chair, a limp hand pointing down towards
a spilled bowl on the floor. You smile, knowing that nobody was
missed.
The only items of note you find in Dagger’s chambers are the map
from her wartable marked with a few nearby places of interest, and
the dagger at Dagger’s waist. You take it from her body and give it a
couple of spins, appreciating its heft and weight.
You can see why she liked the thing so much.
You put it in your pack, then you leave the compound without
looking back.
END.
Add Dagger’s Fate (E.15) to your character sheet.
Add Dagger’s Dagger (O.13) to your inventory.
Add The Metro (Chapter 22, L.22), The Windmill (Chapter 23,
L.23), and The Caravan (Chapter 24, L.24) to map.
20.10
You pause for a second before mixing something together.
It’s nasty, yes, but it shouldn’t kill anyone. Feeling a bit better about
yourself, you tip the concoction into the steaming pot, as well as a
couple of open cans and jars you find – to make sure the problem
persists. You grin as you slip out of the kitchen, thinking about all
the trouble you’re about to cause.
You return to your hill and watch for a while. There’s only a trickle
of people running to the privies at first, and then a stream, and then
it seems everyone at camp is fighting to get to the few toilets they
have. The sound of your laughter fills the air as you watch them
double over and vomit, but the worse the sickness gets the grimmer
it is to watch. Feeling a little unwell yourself, you turn around from
the camp and start heading towards the fields on the opposite side
of the compound, gagging a little bit at the smell that follows you on
the wind.
At least nobody’s dead, you suppose. And they won’t be causing any
more trouble for a while.
END.
Add The Open Fields (Chapter 21, L.21) to map.

Go to The Open Fields (Chapter 21).
20.11
Even if you just tried to make these people sick, there’s a lot that
could go wrong. All you need to do is accidentally add too much of
one ingredient and suddenly you have the death of dozens of raiders
on your hands…
But fire will solve the problem in a much more efficient way.
There are a few hessian bags of grain in the pantry. You can’t
imagine where the raiders got them from – actually, you can,
probably some poor villagers they either exploited or killed – but as
soon as you put a match to them, they go up a treat. In fact, the fire
spreads so quickly it surprises even you. The ferocity of the flame
toasts your face and makes you squint against the heat.
You were wondering if you would need to set alight more than one
bag but you’ve clearly done enough. You quickly scramble out of the
kitchen and back through the hole in the fence.
When you get to your spot on the hill, panting for breath, you turn to
see the fire has spread more quickly than you could have imagined.
The whole of the building is up in flames. Raiders are running with
buckets of water, but the fire is far too strong and they have no way
to quell it. You’re smiling at the scene when a thought comes across
you.
Where are they going to replace the food?

They won’t suffer to starve. Won’t they just go out to more villages
and pillage them, taking food off of hard-working families?
Perhaps you should have thought this through better...
There’s nothing to be done now. You turn away from the burning
building and head towards the open fields opposite the compound,
the smell of ash clinging to your nostrils as you try not to think too
much about the consequences.
END.
20.12
“I’m a new recruit. Was told to help out with fixing the guns.”
You reply to their question with a smooth and steady voice, not
betraying your worry that he won’t believe you.
The raider slowly looks you up and down before shrugging. A
weight is lifted from your chest. He clearly doesn’t care enough to
ask you more about yourself.
“Come on, everyone’s being called to some sort of demonstration.
You coming?”
From his tone, you get the idea that although it was posed as a
question, you don’t have much of a choice. Your eyes dart from him
to the door.
Make an excuse – Turn to 20.24.
Follow him – Turn to 20.25.
20.13
You open your mouth as if to speak and the man raises his
eyebrows, ready to listen. You take advantage of his gullibility to leg
it out the door you entered through. The man shouts as you go, but
you don’t stop; you ignore the strange looks you get from other
raiders as you dive through the hole in the fence, pushing your pack
first, and wiggling your way after it.
You wanted to stop on your little hill and survey the surroundings,
but you can hear there’s a commotion coming from the compound
behind you. As you breach the hill and scamper down the other side,
you hear a bullet thud into the soft peat and you don’t dare to slow
down in case the next one actually catches you. You can’t imagine
they’d be best pleased when they get their hands on the person who
wrecked their armoury.
Especially Dagger ...
No, don’t go there.
You run as far as you can until you can no longer hear the sounds of
raiders behind you. Looking around, you find yourself in an open
field, oddly calm and quiet. Relief and exhaustion overtake you; you
sit down heavily on the soft grass to catch your breath.
You can’t help letting out a wild laugh at the success of your plan.
You feel you’ve done a good thing today.
END.
20.14
You grab one of the guns. It won’t shoot bullets, obviously, but it still
packs a punch when you ram it into the man’s face. He yells and falls
back, clutching a bloody nose, and you bring the butt down again.
His head goes back and cracks against the floor, and he passes out
where he lies.
Looking around, the other room appears to be empty, leading to
some sort of desk which you imagine is where raiders come to pick
up their weapons. That means they’ll probably notice quite quickly if
he’s not there. You throw the bloodied gun away and grab him by his
feet, dragging him awkwardly into the armoury and shutting the
door behind him.
You quickly check to make sure he’s still unconscious before
running out of the back door. Your work took some time and it’s
getting closer to midday now; most of the camp is out. A few raiders
look at you strangely as you come running out of the building. but
you don’t give them time to inspect your clothing and identify you as
an outsider.
In hindsight, you should have just walked calmly out of the building
and not given anyone a reason to suspect you. But, once again, that’s
hindsight, and you’re committed to this now.
Thankfully, it’s only after you’ve wriggled through the hole in the
fence that you hear shouting. You don’t ease your pace as you run
over the hill you’ve spent so much time sitting on, cresting it and
running into the open fields beyond. The commotion dies down and
nobody comes after you.
You slow to a jog, then a walk, then come to a complete stop and
allow yourself to fall to the ground, exhausted. Your heart hammers
in your chest, but you can’t help but allow yourself a little laugh in
triumph.
You did it.
The raiders won’t be causing any more trouble – not for a while,
anyway.
END.
20.15
Annoyingly, the balloon building is very busy. It seems like there’s
added security around it now, raiders with heavy guns and fierce
faces. They really don’t want to risk anyone messing with their
experiment. That makes things a bit more difficult.
You hide yourself against a wall and consider everything you know.
To get the balloon out, the top of the building must either be
removable or non-existent. That could help. Soon, you’re forming a
plan, but it’s definitely a dangerous one.
It’s not hard to find bottles of alcohol around the camp.
Sometimes you have to walk close to raiders, trying to pretend to be
one of them, and use nimble hands to snatch a whisky flask out of
their back pockets – once, you also snagged an old-fashioned lighter,
which can only be helpful.
Other times, you’re sneaking into buildings to look around, striking
gold when you come to a kitchen area with three bottles of low-
quality cooking wine on the side. Soon, you have over half a dozen
sources of booze. You work quickly to stuff the tops of them with
cloth and soak it through.
The next part is a little more difficult. You have to get on top of the
building. There’s a pile of crates next to the wall, just frail wooden
things, but they only go high enough to get your fingertips on the
roof… it’s an awkward scramble to get up there, with at least three
falls to the ground. On the third fall, you hear one of the bottles
break and you curse. You can’t be that complacent again.
Finally, you haul yourself up, finding a crag in the wall and hoisting
yourself, and roll over onto the roof. It’s a blessing nobody has
noticed you. You take a moment to catch your breath before looking
at your surroundings.
You’re lucky you didn’t roll over any further. As suspected, the roof
either has been knocked out by age or opened intentionally –
either way, all you know is that you’re looking down into the balloon
room. People are flitting about between control panels and
discussing things you can’t quite hear. Nobody seems to have
noticed you.
There’s no point in waiting. You reach into your bag and retrieve the
lighter you pilfered earlier. You set the cloth of the first bomb alight
and drop it in.
The impact is instantaneous. Whatever the balloon is made of, it’s
flammable, and it goes up immediately. The raiders around it begin
to panic as you drop in the second bottle, and the third, and the
fourth. Soon, the whole room is blazing.
You can hear panicked screams through the thick smoke billowing
upwards. You don’t want to stick around for the aftermath –
luckily the grey plume helps act as a shield as you slip off the roof
and back to the ground. It’s a rough tumble, and you’re pretty sure
your ankle is at least bruised from your awkward fall, but you have
no time to stop and check it, instead you take advantage of the
commotion around the entrance to the camp to sneak back to the

hole in the fence and wriggle through.
You only allow yourself to slow down when you return to what
you’ve fondly begun to think of as your hill. The fire is still going
strong, chugging out ugly black smoke into the otherwise clean air.
The wind has picked up as the day has gone on, and the sky is
beginning to turn grey. Not wanting to stay and breathe in too much
smoke, you turn and head towards the open fields which lie
opposite the raider base, happy to put some distance between you
and the flames. You feel proud of yourself. Without that balloon, the
raiders won’t be able to pose an airborne threat. You’re sure you’ve
done a good thing today.
END.
Add Balloon Sabotage (E.20) to your character sheet.
20.16
You don’t know much about these machines, or any
machines really, but you do remember something from when you
were small, when you and a friend were playing around in the
vault’s engine rooms. You weren’t really meant to be down there,
but children have a way of getting into places they aren’t meant to.
The two of you were messing around with the machines. You were
drawing at the time, too, bright garish things with coloured pencils.
When you heard footsteps approaching, the two of you hid behind
an engine. At a loss for what to do with your pencil shavings, you
threw them into one of the motors. To your horror, the thing
stuttered and broke, alerting the adults to your hiding place.
The memory, though a bad one, does give you an idea. This
workshop contains not only large machines but also what seems to
be a woodworking workshop. With a lot of sawdust.
You gather up as much dust as you can in large handfuls before
shoving it into the machines’ engines. It takes you a bit to figure out
where the motor is, but you find some blueprints haphazardly
thrown onto a worktable which help you with your task. Soon, there
are no wood shavings left, all of them shoved away into the vehicles.
You
dust your hands off and feel smug about your accomplishments –
but you only have a moment before you hear raiders approaching
the building. You scamper out through the back door, the raiders
none the wiser to your meddling, and head straight for the hole in
the fence.
You only slow down when you’re back on your hill. Looking back,
you can’t see any movement in the camp that would suggest unrest,
but you know what you’ve done. With a smile, you turn on your heel
and head away from the raiders, towards the open fields near the
compound, feeling glad that you’ve done a small but significant
thing.
END.
20.17
It’s pitch black when you decide to enact your plan. You’ve been
here for long enough to get an idea of the layout of the compound –
the grunts sleep towards the fences, the more important raiders
sleep towards the middle. You know precisely where to find the
higher-ups.
You carefully move your blankets off of you and stand up. Around
you, the other foot soldiers grunt and mutter in their sleep. Satisfied
after a moment’s quiet that nobody else is awake, you turn your
attention to Anna.
It’s good, in retrospect, that Anna has such a big mouth. If she didn’t,
you wouldn’t know about her prized knife that she loves to show off
to anyone who’ll give her an ear (and also those who don’t).
You know she keeps it under her pillow, confident that nobody will
risk taking it from under her sleeping head.
Tonight, you take advantage of that.
You have nimble fingers, and it’s easy to slip a hand under Anna’s
pillow. Your hand closes around the hilt of the weapon and you
slowly pull it free, holding your breath as you go so that you don’t
move her head too much. The last thing you want is for her
eyes to bolt open and have her come face to face with you… there’s
no way you could explain your way out of this.
As you pull the knife free, her breath jumps.
Everything seems to go silent. Seconds drag by as you watch the
raider hover between sleep and consciousness.
Thankfully, she turns over and keeps sleeping. You’ve never been
more relieved to hear her piggish snoring.
You sneak out of the barracks. You’re lucky there aren’t many
guards out tonight. The largest group is always around the balloon
building, with a couple at the gate – it’s sort of expected that the
grunts are too scared to do something like this. It’s a very easy
journey to the other bunks.
The door isn’t locked. The moonlight shows six sleeping bodies,
some of Dagger’s inner crew. They all have nice beds with plush
mattresses which they snuggle down into, snoring loudly. You feel a
bit jealous, having only a simple military cot in your own barracks…
and then you remember you’ve been sleeping in a tent on the
ground for most of your journey and you feel even more indignant.
Walking on your tiptoes, you silently make your way to the nearest
sleeper. He’s a large man you’ve seen by Dagger’s side. With glee,
you realise she’ll definitely notice if he’s gone.
It’s a quick operation. You place your hand over the sleeping raider’s
mouth and slice open his throat. His eyes go wide and his body
convulses as warm blood pours from the wound, but soon he’s
completely still – dead. You don’t want to push your luck by
attacking any more members of the inner guard, so you steal out of
the barracks silently, back to your own bed.
You replace the bloody knife under Anna’s pillow, and once again
she doesn’t wake, merely rolling over in her sleep and muttering
Dom’s name. Your eyebrows raise… that is an interesting
development…
You get back into bed, but the adrenaline doesn’t allow you to sleep.
If your plan worked, you know what should happen. You’re still
worried about getting caught. Rather than dozing off, your head is
full of all the terrible things Dagger could do to you. Before you
know it, the sun is rising and it’s almost time to start the day.
The door swings open, banging against the wall, startling everyone
out of their sleep. The other members of the inner circle are
standing there with fury in their eyes.
Here we go…
“Who did it?!” screams the one at the forefront, her face a mask of
fury.
“Did what?” asks Dom, rubbing his sleepy eyes. She walks over and
grabs him by the collar, hefting him up until he’s at face height with
her.
“You know fucking what you scum! Zak’s dead! Which one of you
fucking did it?!”
Nobody answers. This doesn’t make the inquisitor happy.
“Right! Everyone get up!” she screams, and the grunts all scramble
to their feet. Slowly and methodically, they begin to strip the beds
and check each raider over, looking for any clues they can find.
There’s no doubt they’ll find the bloody knife, but it’s then you look
down to check yourself and feel the blood drain from your face.
Your hands are stained red, clear evidence of the crime from last
night. You shove them behind your back, unable to do anything else,
and pray that they don’t spot it.
Thankfully, they get to Anna’s bunk first and when the knife is
uncovered the inquisitor holds it aloft in triumph. Anna’s face pales.
“But, but I—”
“Looks like we found a culprit, eh?” laughs the inquisitor.
“Wait!” says another voice, and Dom steps up, shaking but firm.
“Why would she hide the knife under her pillow if she’d killed
someone? Surely she’d—”
He gets cut off when the inquisitor slaps him in the face and he
staggers back. A couple of the grunts bristle, uncertain and unhappy.
“What will you do to her?” you ask, trying to egg this on in any way
you can. The inquisitor smiles in a way that seems almost predatory.
“Oh, I’m sure Dagger will think of something. And the rest of you?
I’m sure she won’t be happy you housed a traitor…”
The grunts begin to speak in earnest now, shouting in anger against
the bosses. It’s now or never, you decide.
So when you walk forward and punch the inquisitor in the face, it
sparks the rest of the barracks to action.
Punches are thrown, knives are pulled. There’s no better way to
describe what’s going on than a riot. You join in for a while, fighting
when you have to, all the while making your way towards the door.
As soon as you’re close enough, you throw it open and run.
Reinforcements have clearly been called because more people are
coming to the barracks, but you don’t slow down. Instead, you head
straight to the hole in the fence and slip through, quickly, going to
where you left your pack and digging it free.
You only stop when you get to the top of the hill. Breathing heavily,
you turn to look at the scene behind you. The fight is ongoing and
now that your blood isn’t pumping so loudly you can hear the sound
of gunfire. You see a couple of small fires have broken out around
the compound.
You smile to yourself before deciding it’s best to leave the scene
before anyone realises you’re missing. You head towards the open
fields opposite the camp, still grinning.

END.
20.18
It’s evening in the camp, and things are the same as always. A couple
of raiders are playing cards, but you can’t be sure what they’re
gambling with. Some are snoozing, some are making idle chit-chat.
Anna is showing off that stupid knife of hers.
It’s time to spread some ideas.
“You know,” you say, out loud to anyone who’ll listen, “that balloon
seems really important.”
“Duh,” says Anna, attempting to do a knife trick that looks like it will
slice her fingers off, “that’s why everyone guards it.”
“Yeah, but you know who’ll get to ride in it? Dagger and her lot.
We won’t.”
A couple of raiders look up at that.
“Why do they get to be the important ones?”
“Because... Dagger’s the boss,” says one of the others, but with a note
of uncertainty in his voice. You shrug.
“Who made Dagger the boss? Dagger did,” you reply.
“I could be a good boss…” Anna mutters.
“You could, Anna,” you lie. She would be awful. “If we had the
balloon, nobody would stop us.”
And then, before you know it, you’ve convinced everyone to make
their way to the balloon workshop, weapons in hand and rebellion
in the air. The guards stationed there barely have time to ask what’s
happening before they’re descended upon by discontented raiders.
Everyone piles into the building and begins to try and work out how
to get control of the machine.
“What is happening?!”
Everyone goes silent at the sound of Dagger’s voice. They turn to see
her with a dozen of her inner circle. But, there’s strength in
numbers, and the grunts vastly outnumber them. From the back of
the room you scream “attack!” and they do, a wave of raiders
slamming into the bosses.
You take advantage of the fighting to slip out, dodging between kicks
and punches and knives. As you go, Dagger stares at you, opening
her mouth to shout, but being silenced by a blade to the face – Anna.
You don’t stop to watch the carnage, instead leaving through the
hole in the fence you used to infiltrate the place.
You only stop when you get to the top of the hill. While digging out
your bag, it seems the whole base is crowded around the balloon
room. You can see bodies littering the ground, and you get a sense of
smugness that your plan worked so well.
You turn around and walk towards the fields opposite the base.
You don’t look back.
END.
20.19
You know enough about engines, both of the New and Old Worlds, to
be able to tell exactly what you need to do to mess things up. You’re
also pretty sure you have enough knowledge to be able to take one.
One less vehicle in the hands of raiders is surely a win, you decide.
There’s a workshop on the other side of the small building,
containing woodworking benches. A pile of sawdust sits on the floor.
From the Old World or not, sawdust in oil is going to make an engine
have difficulty. You scoop up handfuls of the stuff and shove them
into the fuel tanks, thankful that you’ve studied enough old
blueprints to know how to locate them. Soon you’re sure that at
least two of the vehicles won’t be able to run.
You turn your attention to the third. It sits heavy and silent, the
largest of the three machines. You pull open its door and get behind
the wheel, studying the interior.
It’s pretty much what you thought it would look like. There were
some motorised vehicles back in the vault, not many and rarely
used, but you took enough interest in them growing up to work out
how to drive one.
Someone’s left the keys in the ignition. You turn them and it fires to
life around you. For a moment, you wonder how you’ll get out of this
place, when you notice that what you thought was a wide door in
front of you is, in fact, just tarpaulin.
Definitely something you can drive through.
Surprised shouts fill your ears; you look in one of the side mirrors
and can see raiders have entered the room. They are not happy to
see one of their machines occupied. Trying to call upon a memory
that you aren’t quite sure is your own, possibly just something
you’ve read about before, you slam your foot down onto one of the
pedals underneath you.
The machine slams backwards, hitting a couple of the raiders.
You hear them crunch behind you. Eyes wide in panic, you look
down next to you at a handle, currently on ‘R’. You grasp it and
shove it into a different position, hoping desperately that ‘D’ will
give you more luck.
It does.
The vehicle surges forwards this time, heading towards the front of
the building. There’s an ear-splitting rip as the tarpaulin is split to
threads where you crash through it. More people shout in confusion
as you launch the thing out of the garage and through the tight turns
of the camp, not stopping when you get to the fence and instead
bursting through.
Driving on the grass is a bit more difficult, but you don’t stop. The
terrain makes you bounce a bit. A couple of times you almost lose
control of the steering, but you stay focused and tight-gripped.
You keep driving until the fuel runs out.
The sun is setting by the time the engine begins to stutter and slow.
To be honest, you were lucky to push this strange machine this far. It
rolls to a stop, a strange landmark in an otherwise open plain.
You get out and stretch, taking in a big lungful of crisp air. Inside the
machine was stuffy. You’re glad to be out of it.
There’s little around where you’ve stopped, except… you’re sure you
can see smoke rising just before the horizon. You narrow your eyes
but can’t make it out any better. You shrug and climb into the
backseat of the vehicle.
You can explore tomorrow. Tonight, you’ll take advantage of having
somewhere warm and reasonably comfortable to sleep, you decide.
You drift off easily.
END.
Add The Battlefield (Chapter 26, L.26) to map.
20.20
You’ve already pushed your luck. No sense in tempting fate even
further.
You snatch up all the bullets you’ve put in a line and shove them into
your pockets. The first shot from a raider goes off, sinking into the
grass beneath your feet and firing a sprinkle of dirt into the air. You
look over to the group approaching and see the leader reloading
their rifle, looking at you with fury as they do so.
You run.
Your pack slaps on your back as you go, fleeing down the other side
of the hill so quickly that your feet get tangled on themselves and
you find yourself falling a little. You can’t afford to slow down,
though, as another couple of bullets whizz by you, one grazing your
shoulder. You feel warm blood begin to stain your coat. It’s
something you’ll have to deal with later. Instead you go as fast as
you can to vacate the area.
Bullets rain down on you, and though occasionally they nick your
flesh, none of them injure you enough for you to stop. You keep
going until the firing ceases. Your legs feel on fire and your chest
burns, but only once you can throw a look over your shoulder and
be sure they’re gone do you allow yourself to fall to the ground and
catch your breath in an open field.
It was close. If you hadn’t run they’d have had you. You were far too
lucky, and some day, that luck is going to run out.
But for now, you’re all right.
END.
20.21
You keep firing but by the time you realise there’s no way you can
take them all down, they’re on you. You swing the butt at the leader,
missing wildly, then try to run. A bullet to the calf makes you
stumble and fall to the ground. There’s laughter as you’re dragged
back to base, a hand under each armpit, your bloody leg out behind
you.
Dagger stares at you when you’re thrown in front of her with a sigh.
“I thought we made a deal, outsider. I thought you were sensible.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, throw them in the cell. The slavers will be
pleased to see this one when they come round.”
You open your mouth to object, but only get out the word ‘no’
before a sharp knock to the back of the head drags you into
unconsciousness.
END.
Add The Cell (Chapter 16, L.16) to map.
Turn to The Cell (Chapter 16).
20.22
You don’t flinch as you pull the trigger. The bullet bursts through
Dagger’s skull and embeds itself into the chair behind her. Her body
goes limp.
You can’t bring yourself to care. This woman wasn’t only dangerous,
she was evil. If she’d been left alive, who knows what she would
have done.
The room is eerily silent as you take a moment to inspect it. The only
things of note are a map on her wartable and the dagger on her belt.
You take them both before you leave the building and walk out the
front gate, an orchestra of silence guiding you as you go.
END.
L.23), and The Caravans (Chapter 24, L.24) to map.
20.23
You fire but not at her head as you’d do for a killing blow. The bullet
clips her shoulder and she howls in pain, allowing you enough time
to cross the room and hit her square in the head with the butt of
your rifle. She’s knocked out immediately.
Her body is limp in the chair, and you quickly explore the room.
There’s nothing much of interest here apart from a map at the
wartable and her dagger. You pocket them both before leaving the
camp. When she wakes up, she’ll find herself utterly, utterly alone.
You’re not sure if you’ve done the right thing. The thought nags at
you as you leave. Maybe she would be better off dead, but as you
consider that option Gaia’s face crosses your mind. She’d probably
be glad you showed mercy, even here.
You sigh to yourself, turning back to look at the compound. It’s still
and silent. You can’t go back now, even if your choice was the wrong
one. You push onwards and let the sun warm your bones.
END.
L.23), and The Caravans (Chapter 24, L.24) to map.
20.24
You consider lying, saying you need to use the privy, but think that
would be too embarrassing. Instead, you gesture to the guns around
you.
“Got to finish up here first. Direct orders from Dagger.”
At her name the man’s eyebrows rocket up. He shrugs and nods.
“None of my business, then,” he replies, leaving through the same
door as he entered and leaving you alone. Relief sweeps through you
and you dismantle the rest of the guns as quickly as you can, using
practised movements to rip them to pieces. Not having time to risk
the diligent work you were doing, you leave the rest of the guns in a
messy pile before you launch out the back door.
Luckily, you don’t come across any raiders as you scramble back
through the hole in the fence. You only turn back to look at the base
when you are back up on your hill. It seems that pretty much
everyone in the camp has gathered around one of the buildings and
you quickly see why – a huge balloon is rising from its roof. You
watch in awe as even from here you can hear the raiders bursting
into applause.
There’s no time to stare. Soon, the raiders will realise something’s
wrong with their armoury, and they’ll be looking for the
culprit. It will be best for you if you’re nowhere nearby when that
happens.
You pull your pack tighter against your back and head towards the
open fields you can see past the base, ignoring the slow ascent of the
giant balloon into the sky behind you.
END.
20.25
You nod silently and follow the man out of the front door. He’s right,
there’s a congregation of raiders gathering round one of the squat
buildings. You form up with them and wait quietly. When Dagger
comes in front of the group, you feel your stomach lurch and do your
best to mingle with the crowd, hoping she won’t recognise you.
“All right, you’ve been waiting for it – we’re ready to have our first
proper test flight!” Dagger screams and the crowd erupts into
cheers.
She waits for them to subside and goes on, “Remember, if this goes
well, it means we’re going to be the most powerful clan around –
other groups of bastards might have the blueprints, but we’re the
only ones smart enough to pull it off!”
The crowd goes wild again and she turns as something begins to rise
out of the building behind her. As the celebration continues, you
realise what it is – it’s a balloon. A huge balloon, at least the size of
the biggest building in the compound, flying into the sky. It’s
operated by two raiders suspended underneath in a small basket,
who are punching their arms in the air in triumph.
Full of dread, you quietly slip away from the crowd and hide behind
another building where nobody can spot you.
This isn’t good.

Raiders with this sort of technology can only cause trouble. But what
can you do? You’re one person against a whole camp. You need to
meet up with your group again and tell them of the threat. It’s the
best plan you have.
You wait for the balloon to descend and leave through the hole in
the fence, heart in your mouth and worry in your gut.
END.
CHAPTER 21
THE OPEN FIELDS
21.1
You walk slowly through the open fields. There really is something
beautiful about nature in the old world, you decide. The vault was
clinical and mechanical and so…
sterile. The outside world is messy and overgrown and beautiful.
The grass in this field has been allowed to grow uninterrupted.
Some of it isn’t longer than a couple of inches, but other patches go
as high as your waist. You run your fingers through the strands and
laugh at how they tickle your fingertips.
After everything you’ve been through these past days, it’s nice to
take some time to relax.
You can’t completely enjoy the serenity, though. No matter where
you go or what you do, you’ll always be sensitive to the area around
you; you can’t risk getting complacent and having someone take
advantage of having your guard down. Anyone could still strike at
any moment.
Though this land is beautiful, it’s full of danger, too. You can’t forget
that.
As if drilling in that point, a strong gust of wind almost knocks you
off your feet. You grumble to yourself about needing to be more
careful. It’s your own fault for walking in the open air. Of course,
there’s a small forest of trees a few hundred metres to your left. You
could always walk through there and use them as a windshield, or
you could simply be more attentive…
Walk through the forest – Turn to 21.2.
Keep going through the fields – Turn to 21.3.
21.2
You don’t want to be any colder than you have to be. The trees will
break up the wind quite nicely, you decide. Soon, you’re feeling a lot
less cold, and the biggest thing you have to worry about is not
tripping over a root as you go. The forest is dense and full of trees of
all different shapes and sizes, all united by the vines creeping up
their bark and the gentle shedding of leaves as you walk. You’re still
on edge, of course; the forest is thick and you can’t see more than a
dozen feet ahead of you, but you still feel relaxed.
That is, until you hear a noise behind you.
You spin on your heel and try to look through the trunks.
Something is definitely making plants rustle, and it seems to be at
ground level. Your heart speeds up in your chest. What is it? A raider
coming after you? Someone with a gun, waiting for the right
moment to shoot? Or are you just being paranoid after the last week
of heart-pounding and worrying?
You finger the straps of your pack around your arms. You should
come to a decision quickly.
Investigate the noise – Turn to 21.4.
Keep away from the noise – Turn to 21.5.
Fashion a weapon – Turn to 21.6, Needs Survival.
Arm yourself for close combat – Turn to 21.6a, Needs Hatchet OR
Dagger’s Dagger.
21.3
You tough it out and keep going through the open fields. The fresh
air will do you good, you tell yourself, keeping your jaw clenched
shut to stop your teeth from chattering. Still, it couldn’t hurt to take
a break for a while.
You sit down in the soft grass before lying back. Being close to the
ground does help with the chill, somewhat, even though the wind
still nips at your nose. Your eyes close as you take in a few deep
breaths before looking at the sky.
The wind is making the clouds dance and change above you.
Every now and then one will settle into a pattern for a second – look,
one over there looks like a test tube, and one over there worryingly
seems to form a skull – but just as quickly they’re blown away into
nothingness.
You continue to try to make shapes in the sky for a minute before
you notice movement in your periphery. On both sides, actually –
something moving both to your left and to your right. From the
bobbing and moving to your left, it’s likely to be a flock of birds that
have landed, but you’re pretty sure there’s something coming over
the horizon to your right… then again, that could just be paranoia.
Add Cloud Drawings (F.20) to your notebook.
Observe the birds – Turn to 21.7.
Look to the horizon – Turn to 21.8.
Look to the horizon – Turn to 21.8a, Needs The Balloon.
Look to the horizon – Turn to 21.8b, Needs Balloon Sabotage.
21.4
You hold still for a moment, waiting to double-check that there
definitely is movement, before you walk forward and part the
foliage in front of you with a hesitant hand.
You see a tiny nose poke out of the hole you’ve made and touch your
fingers. It’s cold and makes you jump.
A brown head with wide eyes follows it, blinking up at you. You
haven’t seen a deer in real life, of course, but you’ve seen pictures of
them when you were told what fauna to look out for. Even to your
untrained eye, you can tell this is a baby. A smile crosses your face
as it butts your hand in interest, sniffing you.
You thought it would run away on sight, but you suppose if there
aren’t many humans around, maybe it didn’t grow up learning to be
scared of them.
For a moment, you’re about to reach out and pat her when you hear
shuffling behind it. The fawn sprints away and you see it join up
with another deer, bigger, certainly its mother. Neither of them
throw you a look as they dash off into the woods. You smile, feeling
touched by this little interaction.
The forest seems safe enough, you decide. It won’t hurt to set up
camp here. It does take a while to clear enough branches and sticks
from the ground to make a space big enough for your tent – you’ve
slept with a twig poking you in the back before and it is not an
experience you want to replicate – and you sit cooking over a small
fire until night comes.
The deer don’t come back. You feel a bit sad.
When your first yawn comes, you decide it’s time to sleep for the
night. Full and happy, you douse the fire, not wanting to risk an
ember catching a dry pile of leaves and sending the whole place up
in flames. Then, you crawl into your sleeping bag and expect
tiredness to take you.
It doesn’t.
Instead, you can’t help but listen to the sounds of movement around
you. Unsettling noises. Wind whistling through the trees. The sounds
of tiny twigs breaking, and movement. Movement of what, you
wonder, your heart beating faster. An innocent animal or someone
full of malice coming to ransack your tent? What’s happening
outside while you lie here, vulnerable? What’s happening?
Turn to 21.10, Needs Lamp & Kerosene.
Turn to 21.11.
21.5
You don’t want to risk a fight. There’s already been too much
bloodshed in this place, and you don’t want to risk the possibility of
any more. Keeping as low and as quiet as you can, you head out of
the forest and back into the fields – at least there, you can see
anything trying to sneak up on you.
The wind bites at your cheeks as you come out of the safety of the
trees. A shiver runs through your whole body. Better to be cold than
vulnerable, you suppose.
At least that’s the thinking you would have had if you didn’t spot
something coming over the horizon…
21.6
You reach down to the ground, not moving your eyes from the spot
where the undergrowth was moving, and gently explore the area
with touch until your fingers wrap around a thick, solid branch. You
move it underfoot and stamp down until the thing splinters into a
point – a rough, makeshift spear, but sharp enough to do damage.
You slowly move to one knee, changing your stance so you’re ready
to strike.
From the greenery in front of you, you see something moving on
four legs. An animal, then, you think with relief. And from what you
can see, quite a plump animal. It could make for good eating for a
few nights if you rationed it properly. Deciding on your next course
of action, you slowly walk forward.
Watch the animal – Turn to 21.4.
Kill it for food – Turn to 21.9.
21.6A
You reach around and grab the weapon from the side of your pack
where you left it for easy access. Your fingers tighten around the hilt
and you bring it to your front. You slowly move to one knee,
changing your stance so you’re ready to strike.
From the greenery in front of you, you see something moving on
four legs. An animal, then, you think with relief. And from what you
can see, quite a plump animal. It could make for good eating for a
few nights if you rationed it properly. Deciding on your next course
of action, you slowly walk forward.
Watch the animal – Turn to 21.4.
Kill it for food – Turn to 21.9.
21.7
You turn your head to observe the birds. You recognise them, once
again from a book, as magpies. Your furrow your brow as you try to
remember the rhyme about them. Vola taught it to you when you
were a child.
You remember scoffing at it, saying there was no way birds could be
either good or bad luck, but she just smiled in a way that made you
feel uncomfortable, as if she knew more than your little mind could
ever fathom. Every time you’ve seen a bird, you’ve felt a little bit of
unease.
You start to count the magpies, but a shadow falls over you and they
fly away before you can finish. You turn and your eyes go wide as
you see something coming towards you over the horizon.
21.8
Your eyes go wide as you see what’s coming towards you.
It’s a balloon.
You’ve seen them, back in the vault, at an occasional birthday party,
but they were mostly regarded as frivolous and unnecessary things.
This? This is giant. It’s at least the size of a house. It rises into the air,
slowly and surely, crossing the land towards you faster than you
thought possible. There’s a small basket beneath it in which appears
to be a couple of figures.
Try to recall what you know about balloons – Turn to 21.12, Needs
Knowledge.
Go closer – Turn to 21.13.
Leave quickly – Turn to 21.14.
21.8A
It’s a balloon.
Huge and lumbering, and yet definitely covering airspace –
exactly like the one you saw in Dagger’s compound. You shiver at
the sight of it. If it’s all the way out here, that must mean that
Dagger’s been successful enough in her experiments to make it
work. You can’t imagine anything more dangerous than that woman
being airborne.
The thing slowly sails towards you. As it gets closer, you can see
there’s a tiny basket attached to its underside, and in it sit a pair of
figures. Almost certainly raiders.
Knowledge.
21.8B
It’s the balloon. The balloon you swear you destroyed back in
Dagger’s base. But how? Unless they had another one. Of course,
there’s no way they’d have been able to fix it so quickly…
Unless…
Your blood runs cold.
Unless they aren’t the only raiders to have schematics for a balloon.
Dread seizes you. One raider clan having blueprints was bad enough,
but two? More? Who knows what sort of terror they could inflict on
people on the ground?
This is bad. Very bad.
Knowledge.
21.9
You strike out with your weapon. With one quick, clean cut, the fawn
falls down dead. You take solace in the fact that it didn’t suffer.
You get to your knees and just as you’re about to skin it, you see
another figure approach. It’s also a deer but far bigger than the one
lying dead at your feet. It stares at the scene for a moment before
running off into the wilderness. You get the sense that it was the
fawn’s mother, and a feeling of horrible guilt crosses you.
Still, you can’t undo your actions now. You set about skinning the
deer and using every piece of it you can. There’s no point wasting
anything. You finish the grizzly, bloody work, and head back
towards the open fields. You don’t want to be around its small
carcass any longer.
You’re taking a moment to right yourself with the world when you
see a shadow rising from the horizon. This world just seems intent
on not letting you have a moment to breathe.
Add Deer Skin (O.14) and Fresh Meat (O.24) to your inventory.
21.10
With shaking hands, you set the little kerosene lamp up in the
corner of your tent and light it. The warmth of the small flame
illuminates your surroundings. It isn’t much, but it makes you feel a
lot braver when you have enough light to see what’s going on.
Spurred on, you quickly poke your head out of your tent to check
your surroundings.
A bird flies off in surprise. You laugh, relaxing. It was just a bird!
Not someone trying to sneak up and attack you. Your own paranoia
makes you feel a bit silly, but nonetheless you find you’re able to get
to sleep easily after making sure the coast is clear. You wake up the
next morning refreshed and ready to keep moving.
Leaving the forest, you find the air clear and fresh. Surveying the
area you see a small trail of caravans not too far in the distance.
Confident from a good night’s rest you set off towards them.
END.
If you so choose, Remove Instability from your character sheet
once.
Go to The Caravans (Chapter 24).
21.11
You don’t sleep that night. In fact, in the small hours of the morning,
you give up trying to get any rest at all. Instead you pack up your
tent in the moonlight and leave the forest to keep moving.
When you get to the open fields, you see smoke rising in the distance
and the telltale red glow of a fire. That’s a sign of people, you think.
Safety in numbers. Bleary eyed and heavy footed, you head towards
it, jumping every time you hear a noise.
You get the feeling it’s going to be a long night.
END.
Add The Battlefield (Chapter 26, L.26) to map.
Go to The Battlefield (Chapter 26).
21.12
Keeping the balloon in sight at all times, you try to call on the
knowledge you brought with you from the vault. You studied a lot
about old-world vehicles, and these balloons definitely came up…
but it was only a passing mention, as they were rarely used. Mostly
they were used for leisure, not actually for transportation. All you
can really recall is that they’re kept in the air by a hot flame and can
carry a couple of people at a time.
It’s interesting, and definitely gives you insight into how the thing is
kept in the air, but doesn’t help the fact it’s slowly getting closer to
you.
21.13
You begin to cross the fields towards the balloon. Even though it’s
terrifyingly large, it is also quite amazing. It’s incredible what sort of
old-world inventions can hold up against the test of time. Also, you
decide, it isn’t exactly subtle –
even though the colours of the cloth have faded, you can tell that it
was once striped with bright rainbow patterns. It makes you laugh a
little. Maybe the raiders would have changed their mind about it if it
wasn’t so worn out.
You’re rudely dragged away from your thoughts by a bullet whizzing
by your ear, making you jump about a foot in the air. The people in
the basket have spotted you and the one with a gun is reloading. You
want to try to fight back, but there’s no way you could get a tactical
advantage on them, they’re so high up and far away –
even with a gun, it would be a slim chance of hitting them.
Just as the raider puts the butt of their rifle back up to their
shoulder, you turn on your heel and begin to run. You hear another
shot being fired into the ground behind you. You don’t know if they
were actually aiming for you or if it was just a warning, but there’s
no point sticking around to find out. You don’t want to be a victim of
raiders.
You run and run and run until you’re out of shooting distance.
When you stop to get your breath back, you see a trail of caravans
not too far in the distance. Desperate for some human company and
comfort, you head towards them, keeping your pace a quick jog. You
don’t want the balloon to catch up with you.
END.
21.14
They couldn’t pay you to stick around. It’s only a matter of time until
the raiders see you, and you’re a sitting duck out here. You keep
close to the trees as you move away, trying to blend in with the
environment as best you can to avoid being detected.
It works.
You hear no shouts after you, no gunshots. Either they didn’t notice
you from their vantage point in the balloon, or they decided you
weren’t worth pursuing. Whatever the reason, you don’t look back.
Instead you push on towards the horizon – you can see a caravan
not too far in the distance. It could be good to have company. Safety
in numbers, after all.
END.
CHAPTER 22
THE METRO
22.1
You check your map, squinting to make out the markings in the pale
sun. The rubble of the old world is dense here.
Each step needs to be planned to make sure you don’t catch your
foot on some loose piece of stone. You learned that the hard way,
you think, looking down at your skinned palms with a heavy sigh.
You glance at your map again and mark yourself against all the
surrounding features. It seems like you’re where you need to be, but
looking around you can’t find what’s been scribbled down as the
‘metro’. Heavily, you perch on one of the half-wrecked walls and
take a moment to just sit in the sun, a small relief from your days of
travel, when something catches your eye. A buried sign, bright
orange in stark contrast to the greys and browns around you.
Getting back to your feet, you carefully step over to it, kicking up
clouds of dust as you go. It takes both hands and a lot of tugging to
get the sign free, but there, like a sign from the New World, is the
word ‘METRO’.
You glance down to where you removed the sign and begin to
realise what is going on. Judging by the concrete steps leading down,
into the earth, the metro appears to be underground.
No wonder you couldn’t spot it amongst the wreckage.
Running your fingers over the sign, you consider everything.
Going underground could be dangerous. You don’t know how
structurally sound anything from the old world is around here. The
cities were the ones that bore the brunt of the bombs when they
first fell, after all. Then there’s the fact it’s had the weight of the
earth bearing down on it unattended for the past hundred years.
You shake your head to get rid of the thoughts. Night will be here in
a few hours, and if nothing else, being underground will keep you
safe from whatever dangers the darkness brings. Clearing away
what rubble you can from the entrance, you begin your descent.
You pause only for a moment when you find a torch lying on one of
the steps, almost as if it were left for you. You pick it up, admiring
the weight of it, and switch it on.
It works.
Quickly, you realise there is no way you can navigate down here by
eyesight and determination alone. Thank god for that torch. A faint
beam shines through in the darkness, desperately trying to
illuminate the stairwell, but mostly just lighting up the heavy dust
that shifts around you with your footfalls. Despite trying to breathe
carefully, you still inhale a lot and are left in wild coughing fits. The
journey seems to go on forever, though perhaps that can be
attributed to your slow steps, careful, nearly reluctant, as if a
misplaced foot could cause everything to tumble around you.
That may not even be too far from the truth, you think dourly, and
resolve not to think of it again.
Eventually, the stairs level out beneath you. The room you find
yourself in is vast, and it takes a moment of swinging the torch
around for you to realise that it appears to lead to a tunnel which
splits off in two directions. Perhaps these were used for transport
back before the war, a way to get goods from one part of the city to
another? Gingerly, you cross to look down the tunnel, one way, and
then the other. There are heavy metal tracks embedded in the
ground, about a three-foot drop from where you stand.
Definitely some sort of cart, then. Your nerves begin to calm as you
realise you appear to be alone down here, so there’s no immediate
danger.
The wall in front of you is matted by age and the painted sign
appears to have long worn away, but wiping off some of the dust
with your forearm, you can see it tells you to the left is WEST LINE,
or to the right, EAST LINE. There don’t seem to be any other exits
except for the way you came.
Go left to WEST LINE – Turn to 22.2.
Go right to EAST LINE – Turn to 22.3.
22.2
You can’t be sure where this line goes, but judging by the way it
faces if you follow it you’ll get closer to the centre of the city. You
start to walk along the rusted tracks, wincing occasionally at the
sound of creaking metal.
It isn’t panic that rises in you, not exactly, but apprehension. The last
time you were underground like this was back in the vault. But then
again, how far from your humble beginnings could this be?
You’re exploring somewhere perhaps nobody has seen in decades,
maybe over a century. You push on with renewed purpose, heading
deeper into the tunnel’s maw.
That rush of confidence lasts for a while, and you find yourself
moving quicker than before. It doesn’t seem like much has come to
ruin down here; perhaps the fact this place is underground actually
helped to protect it during the war.
It’s as you think this that your swinging torchlight lands on
something strange. Not stone and grey like the rest of the tunnel, but
a dull yellow. A coat?
You jump as you realise it’s a person.
In your shock, your torch clatters to the ground and flickers off.
You scrabble for it desperately before you’re attacked – but
strangely
you hear nothing coming towards you. Maybe you haven’t been
noticed yet? That seems doubtful; your light would have given you
away. With shaking fingers you turn your torch back on.
Sitting in the tunnel does appear to be a person. And another.
And another.
None of them are moving.
There must be two dozen of them lining either side of the tunnel.
You take a step closer and find their flesh has long since withered
away; all that’s left of them now are skeletons.
One skull is pointed towards you. Though it, of course, has no eyes
any more, it almost seems to be watching you. You wonder how
these people died. Perhaps they were hiding from the bombs, left
down here so long they starved. Or the radiation got them.
Maybe someone killed them. It’s impossible to tell in this darkness.
Give the bodies a send-off – Turn to 22.4.
Search their pockets – Turn to 22.5.
22.3
You decide that East is your best option. You clamber down to the
height of the metal tracks and begin to head in the direction of the
sign.
The tunnel shows signs of age but is still surprisingly sound.
Though the tracks beneath your feet are rusting, they take your
weight well. When you swing your torch up to the roof, you see that
a lot of work went into the construction here: heavy wires and metal
rods trace the ceiling and disappear down the tunnel, further than
your little light can show you. You would like to come back here, you
decide, perhaps with a team to help take some pictures and record
this place better. In the right hands, this sort of data could really
help illuminate the ways of the Old World.
You notice in the distance your path is blocked. As you close the gap
it seems there is some sort of large metal cart, its wheels interlocked
with the rails beneath you. This must be what travelled down here.
The door on its back is almost rusted off, and it only takes a few
good tugs to remove it completely. There’s a loud clatter as it drops
to the floor, and you wince, but it doesn’t seem to have attracted any
unwanted attention.
You clamber inside the cart and peer around. Either side of it is lined
with what appear to be chairs that are heavy with dust. Maybe it
was once even used for ferrying people along but for now, it is
empty except for you.
Not wanting to breathe in the old air you hold your collar up to your
nose to act as a filter. You carefully walk through the strange
structure. There isn’t much to see here, most things having been
ravaged by age – and then you notice that rubble is blocking the
other side of the cart’s door. Damn. Dead end.
Add Sketch of Wires (F.22) to your notebook.
Turn to 22.2.
22.4
You don’t know much about the burial rituals of the old world, but
you can’t leave them here to just… sit. Whoever they were when
they died, they can’t have wanted to be left like this. You sigh and
clip your torch to your belt.
Luckily, your heavy gloves protect your hands as you bring the
bodies together, lying them along the tracks in as close to a
respectful burial condition as you can. You try not to look down at
their grinning death masks as you assemble the group. It’s hard
work, but eventually you’ve amassed them all. You say a few words,
the words people in the vault would say when they were coming
together to witness a funeral, and stay silent for a moment to give
your respect to the dead.
As you go to make your way past the macabre sight, you see
something shiny in the light of your torch. You pick it up from the
dirt and it makes an odd sound, almost wobbling. It appears to be a
piece of paper trapped inside some plastic sheeting. It’s preserved
what is inside – the piece of paper is bright and covered with words
and it takes you a moment to realise it’s some kind of map. It’s only
of the local area but it could be invaluable, you consider, and tuck it
away in your pack.
Add Metro Map (F.21) to your notebook.

Add The Library (Chapter 17, L.17) and The Church (Chapter 14,
L.14) to map.
Turn to 22.6.
22.5
You look at the parade of skeletons and sigh. It is a shame that they
perished like this, but they won’t be needing what they have with
them any more. It would be a waste to just leave it here to decay.
It’s gruelling work, looking through each body, and very little of use
comes up. You try not to disturb them too much, maybe feeling a
little disappointed in yourself. When you’ve pored over all of them, it
seems like there’s nothing of particular value to the items with the
bodies, except for a few odd pieces of jewellery.
Add Jewellery (O.17) to your character sheet.
Turn to 22.6.
22.6
After that brief sidetrack, it seems the tunnel heads on
uninterrupted for a while. You don’t want to call the journey boring,
per se, but it is just a long stretch of grey stone. You attempt to
amuse yourself by counting the tracks beneath you, but that quickly
becomes tedious.
It’s difficult to tell how long you’ve been travelling for. There’s no
real way to keep track of time down here. You are, however,
thankful when your torch lets you see a groove in the wall up ahead,
though that may just be excitement about having something
different to look at. Your pace quickens without even realising it.
You find it is, in fact, not so much a groove as a room built into the
side of the tunnel. There appears to be old, abandoned machinery,
with long stretches of cobwebs between the stout black boxes which
hold it. If the tunnel was dark, this place practically eats light, your
torch not getting more than a few feet before petering out into
nothingness. It’s eerie. Uncomfortable.
That’s when you hear a sound. Movement. Your whole body goes
tense. It’s impossible to know what it is with the lack of light… you
need to think fast.
Fire a warning shot – Turn to 22.7, Needs Sharpshooter.

Call out – Turn to 22.8.
22.7
You whip your rifle round to your front, the jostling causing the
torch that’s hooked to your belt to wave wildly. The shot you fire is
nearly deafening in what is otherwise silent darkness, and it echoes
horribly in the chamber. You don’t see exactly where the bullet hits,
but you hear it ricochet off of hard metal. You hear a sound, a
surprised squeal, and scuffling that moves further away from you.
Listening to the world around you for a while after, the only sound
you can hear now is your breathing. Whatever was there has gone,
deciding to leave you alone. Feeling safer but still shaken, you keep
your rifle near your hand as you head back down into the tunnel.
Turn to 22.10.
22.8
Summoning up all your courage, you shout out into the
darkness, hoping that whatever is there won’t attack you as soon as
it hears you.
“Who’s there?”
The noise of movement stops and you hear someone call back.
“H-hello?”
Your brow furrows. The voice sounds very… young. Timid, even.
The softest voice you’ve heard in your time here.
You realise, as the noise starts up again, it is in fact messy footsteps.
Clumsy. A figure makes its way out from amongst the machines
towards you, the figure of a little girl. Her clothes are far too big on
her, and extremely ratty, and her dirty hair is scraped into a ponytail
behind her head. She can’t be more than eight years old, and due to
the way she doesn’t react to the torch light, she’s obviously
completely blind.
“Hello? Who are you? I don’t recognise your voice,” she calls again.
She staggers forward, running a hand over the faces of the machines
to act as a guide. As she approaches you can see there’s a milky film
clung over both of her eyes, rendering them useless. You allow your
posture to relax. She couldn’t possibly be a threat.
“What are you doing down here?” you ask. The girl stumbles
forward as she follows your voice.
“I got lost. I went out with a scavenging party and we got separated
when something started chasing us. I’ve been here on my own.” She
fusses at a ragged hem with dirty fingernails. “Do you…
think you could help me?”
“No” – Turn to 22.11.
“Yes” – Turn to 22.12.
22.9
You freeze, breathing slowly to try to keep as quiet as you can. The
scuffling sound continues deep in the room. The thought of turning
off your torch crosses your mind, but that would plunge you into
utter darkness, leaving you totally at the mercy of the world around
you, and whatever might be in it.
Instead, you wait, clutching your torch and getting ready to run.
Blood pumps through your body and you can taste your heartbeat in
your mouth. You count the seconds. One… two… three…
The sounds begin to get quieter as whatever it is heads away from
you. You relax and feel the tension leave your body, but stay on
guard just in case. Perhaps you aren’t as alone down here as you
thought.
Turn to 22.10.
22.10
You keep your guard up as you follow the tunnel down,
keeping your ears peeled for anything else that makes an unnatural
sound. Panic begins to rise in your chest the further you go on, the
tunnel seeming to tighten in on you, and you start to realise just how
cramped everything is down here.
You are truly screwed if anything comes after you. You might even
be trapped. And that’s not counting your presence shaking anything
loose; an old place like this can be rotting…
You see a door in the side of the tunnel, an ancient, metal thing.
You realise that hanging above it, the words still somewhat legible,
is a sign which reads ‘emergency exit’.
Running over to the door, you yank it open, and it puts up no
resistance. There is a spiralling staircase in front of you, the steps
made of grated, rusting metal. You take them two at a time as you
run upwards, fear driving you on, only caring about getting out. You
feel the torch drop from your belt and roll away, down the stairs
behind you. You don’t bother to go to pick it back up.
Relief floods into you when you can see the dusk’s sunlight filtering
in the further up you get, and soon you come out to a room which
holds another rusted door which is missing giant chunks,
allowing the natural light to get in. You throw it open and tumble
back out into the world, coughing as you take in lungfuls of fresh air.
The door swings shut behind you and lets out a great creak. You
don’t look back at it. Instead, you try to focus on what you’ve come
out to – a map on a display board of the local area.
You steady your hand to make a note on your map.
END.
Add The Zoo (Chapter 12, L.12) to map.
22.11
You snort at the little girl. A child alone in the darkness, of course.
But that isn’t your problem. You’re here to explore and find your
own group.
Without a word, you turn your back on her and walk away. You hear
the little girl call after you, her pleas getting louder and more
desperate, but it’s easy enough to ignore them.
One thing does stay with you, though… what did she mean when she
said something was chasing them?
Turn to 22.10.
22.12
“All right,” you say. The little girl’s face lights up in a genuine smile
and she reaches out for you. Her tiny hand finds its way into your
gloved one, and you head
back out onto the tracks. You ask her about where she lives.
“I don’t really know. I think there’s a way to get to the upside
though. Sometimes the others go to the top and look around.
Sometimes they go looking for rats and things down here to eat.”
Well, you’ve heard of the people out here eating worse. You run your
torch across the ground, narrowing your eyes to try to pick out
details. It seems like the tunnel just continues onwards, so you have
no other choice but to follow it.
The girl’s steps are even more unsure than your own, and she slows
you down considerably.
Somewhere up the tracks, you see something blocking your path.
It appears to be a carriage of some sort, sitting on the rails. There is
a hole in the back of it, allowing you entrance inside. You peer in and
see wreckage of what once was inside it: several soft benches with
the stuffing torn out, the insides scattered around. It looks wrecked.
But with nowhere else to go, you hoist the girl up and then clamber
after her, continuing your journey.
You can’t help but be worried about the state of the place. This
doesn’t look like it’s down to natural decay. It seems like something
has destroyed this place on the inside. As you notice the claw marks
across one of the padded seats, you hear growling.
Next to you the girl stands stock still, and you remember her words.
“Something was chasing us”.
Ready gun – Turn to 22.13, Needs Sharpshooter.
Hide – Turn to 22.15.
22.13
You push the little girl behind you, acting as a shield between her
and whatever is making the noise, then ready your gun.
You can see from here that the roof has partially collapsed, making a
hole in the ceiling of the cart – and something lithely jumps down to
be face to face with you.
Instinctively, you put the gun to your shoulder and take aim. The
creature is difficult to make out in the low light, but it looks like
some kind of giant cat. You can see it open its fanged maw and it
bares its teeth at you, but you don’t allow it to take any further
action, firing a round into it. The little girl behind you screams,
having had no way to prepare herself for the noise, but your shot
finds its mark. The creature slumps down heavily to the floor.
“Are you all right?” you ask her.
“Wh-what was that?!” she exclaims.
“Nothing,” you lie, putting your gun back. No point in scaring her.
Instead, you take her hand and push onwards through the rest of the
carts, all of which appear to have once been linked together. She
squeezes your fingers tightly as you go, but nothing else interrupts
your journey.
Turn to 22.16.
22.14
Clutching the girl’s hand you start off quickly towards the door,
which appears to lead into another cart. She isn’t expecting the
movement and tries desperately to keep up with you, but her legs
are small and unsure, tripping as she moves.
There is a thud as something falls to the floor behind you from a
rusted open patch of the cart. You wrench open the next door and
try to pull the little girl along with you, but her foot catches on a
stray piece of metal and she trips.
There isn’t a chance to pick her up before the creature pounces on
her. She barely gets out a scream before a hungry mouth meets her
and silences her forever. You hold back a gag, and instead you slam
the door behind you, barring it with whatever debris you can.
You run the rest of the way through the carts and try not to be sick.
Turn to 22.10.
22.15
You grab the little girl and throw the two of you under some of the
destroyed seats. She squeaks, but you slap a hand over her mouth
and tell her to be quiet. You try to breathe as silently as you can as
you hear a thud of something landing down the other end of the
cart. It pads along, breathing heavily, and you can tell it’s some sort
of animal, though gods know what kind. It stalks the length of the
wreckage and you spy a tail swishing back and forth as it enjoys the
hunt.
It pauses next to your hiding place. You almost crush the little girl as
you try to keep her from making a noise.
Maybe this is it.
Where your journey ends. You send up a silent prayer to whoever is
listening.
But then the creature keeps walking, seemingly done, and you wait
until you hear it hop out the other end of the cart. You stay still for a
while longer before you dare to move out of your hiding spot,
hurrying the girl through and into the next cart. You block the door
with debris you find lying around the carriage and hope it will be
strong enough to keep out your hunter.
“What was that?” squeaks the girl.
“I don’t know, but I don’t want to stay here and find out,” you reply,
then pick her up and run the rest of the way through the carts and
along the track out on the other side.
Turn to 22.16.
22.16
You can hear the hum of people as you walk, and along with it, you
even see the warm glow of light. The little girl tugs on your hand the
closer you get.
“That’s them!” she says, smiling.
Soon you come out of the constricting tunnel. You arrive at an area
not unlike the area you saw when you first came into the metro, a
large platform spanning a hundred or so feet. Rather than being
bare, the place is taken up by rough-hewn tents stitched together
from bits of plastic and animal hide. People have got to their feet as
you approach, seemingly ready to attack, but the little girl cries out
to them and they drop their defences.
A woman pushes through the crowd and throws her hands to her
mouth in shock. A shudder of sobs wracks her body and she runs
towards you – not you, but your travelling companion.
She picks the little girl up in a swoop of her arms and holds her
close, crying, and the little girl hugs her back tightly. After a moment,
she has the composure to turn to you.
“Did you help my girl?” she asks. You nod.
“Thank you, stranger. You have done more than you can possibly
know for me. Please, get what use from the village you can.”
The ‘village’ is sparsely populated and its inhabitants seem nervous

around you, but having seen that you mean them no harm they are
happy to host you. The girl’s mother informs you that the beast has
been terrorising them for some time now, having come down from
the zoo a mile or so away.
There is little for you here, but you spend the night on a soft sleeping
mat anyway. The next morning you awake before the rest of the
group and ascend the stairs to leave the metro, feeling like you’ve
done some small bit of good in this world.
END.
Add The Zoo (Chapter 12, L.12) to map.
CHAPTER 23
THE WINDMILL
23.1
Ever since you got over the bridge, the large hill has been watching
you. Everywhere you look are hills, of course, but this place has
more intricate topography than anything you’ve seen before – it’s
tall enough that it’s difficult to miss.
A windmill, slowly turning in the breeze. A squat white structure
next to it. Far too far away for you to make out the details of either
one particularly closely, but just visible enough to pique your
curiosity, and you might be able to see your group from such a high
vantage point. Also, you want to know who would live in a place like
that, so far away and secluded from the rest of the population.
There’s no point in a mystery if it can’t be solved.
You’ve been hiking towards the windmill for a couple of days.
Your legs are burning from the effort. The incline has gone from
slight to steep, and for a while it felt more like climbing than
walking.
Luckily, the ground has plateaued out, but you’re still worried one
misstep will knock your feet from under you and send you rolling
back to the bottom like the way you and your friends used to shove
each other down the stairs in washing baskets back in the vault, but
significantly less enjoyable.
At long last, your weariness is worth it. The trees are beginning to
thin out and you can see a bit of the white windmill at the crest of
the hill. Though you want to rush onwards, you force yourself to
slow for a moment and try to tidy your appearance. Whoever lives
here probably isn’t accustomed to visitors – friendly or otherwise –
and it would be a good idea to try to make a favourable first
impression.
When you stop and search through your belongings for a comb, or
anything to tame the tangles in your hair, something grabs your
attention. Actually, two things do. The first is that there’s a sign
hammered to a stump about fifteen feet in front of you. The second
is that to the right, there seems to be a piece of rope tangled in the
branches of a thick, leafy tree. Both things seem odd and out of place
given the situation you’re in.
Inspect the tree – Turn to 23.2.
Inspect the rope – Turn to 23.3, Needs Survival.
Read the sign – Turn to 23.4, Needs Old World Language.
Keep on towards the windmill – Turn to 23.5.
23.2
You carefully make your way through the litter of leaves and twigs
on the ground and up to the tree. It’s too high for you to get a good
look at, but there’s definitely a rope in the boughs… in fact, it seems
to be tied round a branch, and –
Thwip!
Before you can react, a snare snaps around your ankle and flings you
upside down, into the air. You yelp in surprise as the blood rushes to
your head and you feel like you’re going to either vomit or pass out –
or both. You squeeze your eyes shut and take a moment to regain
your coordination before taking a look at what’s going on around
you.
The first thing you notice makes you curse – everything has spilled
out of your pack and onto the ground. The icing on top of a pretty
awful cake. You force yourself to look up – or down? You hate this
unnatural angle – and you see round one of your ankles is a tight
length of rope keeping you like this.
It was a trap. It was a bloody trap!
You curse yourself for being foolish enough to get into this situation.
There’s nothing trustworthy in this place. You let your guard down
for five seconds and where do you end up?
Upside down. In a tree.
You sigh. There’s no point in being sour about it. You’re here now.
And you need to not be here.
Cut yourself free – Turn to 23.6, Needs Survival.
Cut yourself free – Turn to 23.6a, Needs Dagger’s Dagger OR
Hatchet.
Try to swing out of the trap – Turn to 23.7.
Wait for somebody to let you out – Turn to 23.8.
23.3
Whatever reason that rope is in the tree, it looks like someone’s
tried to hide it. Handfuls of dried leaves have been placed to try and
disguise its jarringly different colour. You don’t trust that for a
second.
You come at the tree from an angle and start to piece together what
you’re seeing. A carefully hidden rope comes to the ground, a couple
of spritely saplings holding it in place. It’s a snare trap.
Whoever puts a snare trap out is clearly not looking for company.
Nevertheless, you slowly dismantle it to make sure it isn’t a threat
any more. You try to reason with yourself – maybe it’s just here
because whoever lives in the windmill is trying to do some hunting,
wanting to snatch a couple of rabbits or the like.
That doesn’t explain the bear trap you spy a few metres away. Or the
pitfall just in view to your right.
The resident either is very enthusiastic about catching dinner, or
they really don’t want anybody here.
Too bad you’re smart enough to spot their tricks.
You tiptoe through the traps until you come to the clearing at the
top of the hill. The windmill lies still, the breeze this afternoon not
strong enough to make it move, and you notice that next to it are
some sort of plastic tunnels – when suddenly the door bursts open
and a man with a shotgun is aiming directly at your face.
You stare at each other, both equally surprised. His finger twitches
on the trigger.
Bring out your own gun – Turn to 23.9, Needs Sharpshooter.
Disarm him – Turn to 23.10a, Needs Hand-to-Hand Combat.
Stop dead – Turn to 23.11.
23.4
The sign is well kept. It seems someone wants to make sure that
their message is heard, as it looks like they’ve repainted it a few
times, the different colours of each successive coat peeping out from
under the cracks.
KEEP OUT. TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT.
Well, you think to yourself, someone knows how to give a warm
welcome. This thought is only backed up when you look to your left
and right and see more of these signs in both directions, each no
more than fifty feet from the other.
You begin to back away and think maybe this isn’t somewhere you
particularly want to stick around, when suddenly the sole of your
foot doesn’t connect with the ground. It connects with air. You wave
your arms wildly to try and maintain your balance, but instead end
up flinging yourself backwards.
You fall about ten feet down, landing heavily on your back. The air is
pushed out of your lungs.
You try to catch your breath as you look up. You’re in a hole. A big,
deep hole, dug straight down into the earth. You can see insects
skittering around the sides. A couple of tree roots poke through.

When you’ve caught your breath, you sit up and look around.
Beneath you is a pile of leaves and twigs to reflect the canopy but
also something else… a net.
A net that was clearly covering the hole. A trap. Which you fell into.
You curse yourself for not being more vigilant. If someone was
putting up warning signs, of course they’re going to try to protect
their property. It was foolish of you not to have your guard up. And
now you’re in a hole.
If Gaia could see you know, she’d probably laugh. You can’t help but
smile at the idea too.
Try to get out of the hole – Turn to 23.13.
Wait for someone to free you – Turn to 23.14.
23.5
You approach the windmill, trying to think of what to say, when
your sure footing suddenly goes too far. Your foot doesn’t touch
land; the pile of leaves you just put your boot down on gives way
beneath you. You fall down into the hole that’s now opened up
before you.
You land on your stomach about ten feet later, and the breath is
slammed out of you.
The world feels dizzying around you, though that might be from a
possible concussion after the fall. It takes a while for the dirt around
you to stop spinning, and eventually you manage to haul yourself up
to standing.
You’re in a hole. It’s more than three feet taller than you are,
designed to keep its occupants inside. You sigh at your own
foolishness. You should have been more prepared, more aware, and
now you’re stuck in a trap.
You’re almost glad nobody’s here to witness this. It’s a bit
embarrassing.
You sigh and consider your options.
Try to get out of the hole – Turn to 23.13.
Wait for someone to free you – Turn to 23.14.
23.6
With a sigh, you swipe at the ground with your fingertips.
There are enough branches around here for you to fashion a
weapon, even if it will be awkward when you’re upside down. You
swing a little bit to gather the momentum, just enough to grab onto a
sturdy looking stick, smashing it against the forest floor to make it
into more of a point, and get to work.
You shove the point awkwardly into the rope loop around your foot
and begin to move it. The process of unravelling the rope is long and
uncomfortable but soon you hear snap and the thing wears through
and drops you.
You land heavily on your shoulder and hear something crunch.
It’s dislocated, you think, as you cry out in pain. Luckily, resetting a
joint is one of the pieces of knowledge you left the vault with. You
grab your dangling arm with your good one and push up and twist
with a scream – and you manage to get it back in place with a loud
pop. The pain is excruciating.
Tears in your eyes from the pain, you gather everything back into
your pack. Really, you need medical attention. You could go back
down the hill to find the nearest friendly settlement, you suppose,
but
it would take a while, and you’re so close to the windmill you really
hope you can find some sort of first aid there.
Even if it’s a long shot because the occupants are clearly not happy
about visitors.
You approach the windmill with a far warier eye for spotting traps,
but someone is already waiting for you. A man stands at the door of
the building as you leave the safety of the trees, a shotgun pointed
steadily at you.
Charge at him – Turn to 23.10.
Ask for medical attention because of the trap – Turn to 23.15.
23.6A
You’re looking down when you see the weapon. It might not be the
best idea, but it has a blade and that blade is sharp enough to slice
through a rope. You reach out as much as you can and manage to get
your fingertips around the hilt before bringing it into your hand and
swinging up.
The blade cuts through the rope as easily as butter and you fall
spectacularly.
You land heavily on your shoulder and hear something crunch.
It’s dislocated, you think, as you cry out in pain. Luckily, resetting a
joint is one of the pieces of knowledge you left the vault with. You
grab your dangling arm with your good one and push up and twist
with a scream – and you manage to get it back in place with a loud
pop. The pain is excruciating.
Tears in your eyes from the pain, you gather everything back into
your pack. Really, you need medical attention. You could go back
down the hill, you suppose, but it would take a while, and you’re so
close to the windmill you really hope you can find some sort of first
aid there.
Even if it’s a long shot, because the occupants are clearly not happy
about visitors.
You approach the windmill with a far warier eye for spotting traps.
But someone is already expecting you. A man stands at the door of
the building as you leave the safety of the trees, a shotgun pointed
steadily at you.
23.7
Well, you have nothing that has a blade to help you. So unless you
can get free with just your body, you’re probably stuck.
As you slowly swing around, you try to inspect your surroundings.
Now you can see where the snare was set up – a pair of small
saplings by the tree with the hidden rope, standing upright now the
trap has been sprung.
But still with the rope knotted around them.
Well, that does give you an idea, but it’s going to be a bastard to
execute.
You throw your arms out behind you and then forward, your body
slowly swinging in the direction you point. You sigh, because it
makes you dizzy as anything, but keep going. The more you move,
the further you swing. It’s tiring, disorientating work, but eventually
you have enough force behind you that as you go forward you
manage to grab onto the sapling with the rope. There’s no chance of
getting it untied, not with the knot that’s been used, but as gravity
tries to pull you back you grab onto the sapling with all your
strength and pull.
It comes out of the ground. The rope comes off the trunk, which
unwinds from the branch, which means you…
Thunk.
Fall heavily to the floor.
You land on your shoulder and howl. It’s incredibly painful.
Probably sprained. Nevertheless, you force yourself to your feet,
stumbling a little as the reorientation hits you, and begin to collect
your things back into your pack.
You almost certainly need medical attention or at least some first
aid. You sling your pack over your good shoulder and head towards
the windmill, hoping that human decency will mean the occupant
(or occupants) will help you.
There’s someone at the door as you approach; a man with a shotgun
pointed at you. The sight makes you sigh but doesn’t surprise you.
His finger twitches on the trigger.
23.8
There’s nothing to do except wait.
You spin around slowly, the dizzying feeling getting more intense as
the day turns to night. You only manage to fight off vomiting because
you haven’t eaten anything recent enough to come back up. You
close your eyes. You’re not sure if you fell asleep or passed out, but
you don’t open them again until you’re poked in the stomach.
You can groggily make out that there’s a man in front of you. His face
is haggard and angry, but most importantly he has a shotgun aimed
at you.
“What are you doin’ ’ere?” he asks, his voice as gruff as his looks.
Explain you’re from the New World – Turn to 23.16.
Say you’re a trader – Turn to 23.17.
Say you’re a trader – Turn to 23.17a, Needs Deer Skin OR Tiger
Skin.
Threaten him to let you free – Turn to 23.18, Needs Cruelty >/=2.
23.9
You whip your arm round and pull your rifle off of your back, aiming
it right back at him in one fluid motion. He clearly didn’t see that you
were armed when you came out of the woods because his face
visibly pales. Not only does his shotgun have a far worse range than
your rifle, it’s also in much worse condition.
He clearly sees he’s no longer in command of the situation and
lowers his gun, not dropping it but no longer pointing it at you.
“Why did you come ’ere?” he asks, a gruff voice barking out his
question through the quiet stillness of the afternoon.
Skin.
23.10
Taking him by surprise, you run. He’s startled and fires, but it goes
wide, and even if it hadn’t you had dropped into a roll to duck from
any passing shrapnel. It takes you only a moment to be on him,
taking his shotgun in your hands and pulling it back as your head
goes forward, headbutting and disarming him in one fluid motion.
He yells and staggers back. You push forward, knocking him to the
ground, before climbing on top of him to pin him down. Bruised and
angry, he stares up at you, knowing you have the advantage.
“Why did you come ’ere?” he asks, a gruff voice barking out his
question. “You come to rob me?”
Skin.
Yes, I came to rob you – Turn to 23.19.
23.10A
Of course, the pain in your arm is a disadvantage, but you still know
how to fight. You run towards him as fast as you can. His eyes go
wide and he presses on the trigger but the shot misses – he didn’t
take the time to aim. When you get near enough, you fling one of
your legs up in the air and catch the barrel of the shotgun. The force
slams it out of his hands and onto the grass some feet away.
You push back and kick into his stomach. He doubles over and falls
to the floor. You don’t let the moment slip by, instead you clamber
on top of him to pin him down. Bruised and angry, he stares up at
you, knowing you have the advantage.
“Why did you come ’ere?” he asks, gruff voice barking out his
question. “You come to rob me?”
Skin.
Yes, I came to rob you – Turn to 23.19.
23.11
You stop dead. Maybe it’s not the smartest thing to do, but you also
want to prove to this man that you aren’t going to hurt him. You
raise your hands above your head and the man mirrors this with his
gun, rising from aiming at your stomach to your head, squinting his
eyes as if he’s trying to work you out.
Silence runs between you as each of you waits for the other to speak
first. You don’t want to start the conversation; it will be easier if he
believes he has control of the situation.
At long last the man talks, his voice gruff and gravelly, as if he
doesn’t use it much.
“What are you doin’ ’ere?”
Skin.
23.12
“I’m not here to hurt you,” you tell him, and you hope it sounds
truthful even though your voice wavers with fear.
The man snorts in a way that suggests he doesn’t believe you. His
gun doesn’t move.
“Please. If I wanted to attack you, I would have done so by now.”
It may be the desperation in your voice, or he genuinely believes
you, but you see the tiny movement of his finger coming off of the
trigger.
“Why are you here then?” he asks, caution still lacing his voice.
Skin.
23.13
You look up at the top of the pit. It’s at least three feet taller than
you. You sigh. Whoever dug this thing really wanted to make sure
whoever was in it couldn’t get out.
You take a moment to survey your surroundings. It’s dirt all around.
Every now and then you see an undeterred insect scuttle through
the earth. There are, however, a few ends of roots poking through
where trees have continued to grow.
They could make good hand holds.
With a sigh, you begin your work.
You’re lucky that the earth here is quite compact. When you dig out
sections, it mostly maintains its shape. The last thing you want to do
is step on more loose dirt and fall back down. Eventually, you have
just under a dozen holds for you to climb up before you can grab
onto the sturdier roots. You’re covered in grime but try not to think
about that, and try to ignore the feeling of something crawling inside
your uniform as you begin to ascend.
You slip on the third hold and plummet back down.
This happens at least four more times before you successfully climb
high enough to grab onto the roots and haul yourself to freedom.
Each time, you get a bit further, but either you can’t find a foothold
or it gives way under your weight. It’s a long and arduous task, but
eventually you do it. Afternoon is beginning to bleed into night by
the time you crawl out of the pit. Tired and bedraggled, you lie down
on the grass and try to get your breath back.
You finish your journey to the windmill carefully. Maybe it’s not the
best idea, but you’re very tired and don’t want to camp in these
woods full of traps. If you could just speak to the occupants and
prove you aren’t a threat, they may put you up for the night.
Or they’ll just attack you. You’re hoping for the first option.
You get about ten feet away from the windmill door when the door
swings open and you’re met with a gun to the face. The man behind
it is grizzly and grim, not flinching or moving.
“What do you want?” he asks, his voice as gruff as he looks.
Skin.
23.14
The climb looks difficult, and there’s no definite chance you could
scale the side of the pit either way. Honestly, it might just be best to
bunk down and try to get some rest.
Someone should come and find you here.
Eventually.
Hopefully.
You use your pack as a pillow and lie down, closing your eyes and
stretching out as far as the pit will allow. Relaxation doesn’t come
easily, especially because you’re sure you feel more than one thing
skitter over you, but it comes nonetheless.
Some time later, you’re startled awake by the sound of a gunshot.
You sit up straight, heart hammering in your chest, and look around.
“Up ’ere.”
You turn your gaze upwards and see there’s a man standing at the
lip of the pit. It’s late now, and dark, so it’s hard to make out what
he looks like even with the small lantern he carries, but you can see
he’s holding a gun towards you with a smoking barrel.
You think he fired upwards rather than into the pit, to get your
attention more than anything, but you don’t want to give him a
reason to change his mind. You stand up slowly and look him in the
eyes as you answer.
Skin.
Threaten him to let you free – Turn to 23.18, Needs Cruelty >/=2.
23.15
“Please,” you say, and you don’t need to try to look pitiful for his
sympathy, you’re doing a fine job of it naturally, “I was caught in a
trap and I think I’m injured. I’m just looking for help.”
The man narrows his eyes and keeps the gun trained on you as he
surveys the situation. Given the way you hold your arm, it’s pretty
clear you’re telling the truth.
“How’d you get out?” he grunts. You don’t want to go into details, so
instead you just gesture to your arm and tell him,
“Awkwardly.”
That makes him smile, just for a split second. He gestures to the
ground with his gun.
“Put your pack down there and drop your weapons.”
You do so, moving slowly and awkwardly, disarming yourself of
everything you have that he might consider dangerous before
chucking your pack a few more feet towards him. His eyes dart
between you and the pack as he searches through it with one hand,
the other still keeping the gun aimed at you. Eventually, he seems
happy with what he has, or hasn’t, found, and waves you inside
using the gun.
“Fine. Your things stay out here.”

You want to ask him if they’ll be safe, but then you remember that
you’re on the top of a hill surrounded by traps. This might be the
safest place in the Old World.
You nod and follow him inside the windmill.
You’re not sure what you were expecting here, but it’s certainly not
what you see around you. This place, though small, is quite nicely
furnished. There’s a neatly laid table with a bunch of flowers in the
middle, and a small but clean kitchen to the other side of the room. A
worn but still vibrant floral-patterned sofa sits opposite, in front of a
low table with a couple of books perched on the side.
The man pulls out a chair, the loud scrape of its legs on the stone
floor shocking you out of your observations.
“Sit down,” he tells you, and you do, glad to get the weight off your
feet. He doesn’t let go of his gun, but does tuck it under his arm as he
goes to a kitchen cabinet and brings out something you recognise to
be a first aid kit. He slams it down on the table.
“Let me see,” he says, gesturing to your arm. You slide it out of your
coat and roll up your sleeve as far as you can. His hands are
surprisingly gentle as he probes the area, taking note of when you
suck breath in from pain and where it seems fine. Eventually, he
seems happy with the prognosis and nods.
“It’s nothing serious. Just badly bruised. I can still bandage it if you
want.”
You nod, hoping the bandages might help with the movement.
You slide your arm free of your shirt and let him begin to wrap the
affected area in clean cloth. Only now do you notice he’s actually put
the gun down, leaving it on his side of the table.
Ask what he does up here – Turn to 23.20.
Ask why he set so many traps – Turn to 23.21.
Sit in silence – Turn to 23.22.
23.16
He looks surprised when you tell him, but then again that’s a
reaction you’re getting used to in this world. You point to your
badge and step closer so that he can better inspect it.
“Didn’t think I’d ever see one of your lot,” he tells you, taking your
badge in his grubby fingers and turning it over.
“I’m not here to cause trouble. I just want to find my group again.
We got separated during the storm a couple of weeks back.”
Was it a couple of weeks? You’ve been wandering for so long,
honestly you can’t be sure.
The man sighs and nods.
“I remember it. Almost blew the sails right off,” he sighs. You’re not
sure what that means but nod anyway.
“I did see a group passing. Might have been yours.”
Your heart skips a beat.
“You did?”
“Aye. I don’t remember where. But I do know how you might reach
‘em.”
“How?!”
“There’s a radio tower not far from here. Think it’s still in working
condition. If you can get there, you might be able to make contact.”
It’s the best news you’ve heard for ages. Your face lights up with a
huge smile.
“That’s fantastic! Where is it? Can you point me to it?”
You bring it out of your pack for him and he takes it, narrowing his
eyes at what’s already scribbled on there, before grabbing a pen
from his pocket and adding fresh annotations.
“There’s the radio tower. Also, you’re gonna wanna avoid here and
here, ” he jabs at two other circled points on the map, “both
dangerous places. Trouble brewing. Trouble you’d best keep out of.”
“Thank you so much,” you say to him genuinely. He seems a bit
stunned. It must have been a while since anyone has had a kind
word for him. He coughs.
“You’re welcome. Now get on your way. And mind the traps.”
He doesn’t say anything else, and neither does he move; he watches
to make sure you leave back down the hill. You keep your eyes
peeled for traps but still bounce along with the euphoria of having a
lead on getting back to your people.
END.
Add Windmill Warden (E.8) to your character sheet.
Add The Battlefield (Chapter 26, L.26), The Streets (Chapter 28,
L.28), and The Radio Tower (Chapter 25, L.25) to map.
Add a Green Circle (F.28) to map around Location 25.
23.17
“I’m a trader!” you implore, opening up your pack and
showing it to him. It’s easier to tell a lie than the truth. This man
clearly doesn’t trust easily, and maybe this will mean you can get
along with him easier.
He approaches slowly and then sticks his gun into your bag, using
the barrel to rifle through – the irony might have been funny if you
knew it wasn’t loaded and definitely something he’d use on you.
After a long moment, so high in tension you can almost feel the thick
air choking you, he steps back.
“You ain’t got anything I want.”
“Ah,” you say, deflated. “Are you sure?”
“Yep,” he tells you, and clearly expects that to be the end of the
conversation. You push more.
“Do you know anyone who might want to trade?”
He sighs.
“Caravan goes by sometimes,” he uses his gun to point to a hill over
to the west, “might have better luck there. Maybe over in the streets
by the city. Trade happens there sometimes but I don’t know much
’bout it.”
“All right,” you say, “thank you.”
He grunts and watches you until you’re out of sight. You sigh. It’s not
the result you were hoping for, but at least it’s something, you
suppose.
END.
Add The Streets (Chapter 28, L.28) and The Caravans (Chapter
24, L.24) to map.
Add a Red Circle (F.27) to map around Location 28.
Add a Green Circle (F.28) to map around Location 24.
23.17A
“I’m a trader!” you implore, opening up your pack and
showing it to him. It’s easier to tell a lie than the truth. This man
clearly doesn’t trust easily, and maybe this will mean you can get
along with him easier.
He approaches slowly and then sticks his gun into your bag, using
the barrel to rifle through – the irony might have been funny if you
knew it wasn’t loaded and definitely something he’d use on you.
After a long moment, so high in tension you can almost feel the thick
air choking you, he steps back.
“I’ll take that hide,” he says, once again pointing with the gun.
You untangle the animal skin from everything else in your pack and
hold it up for him to inspect further. The man hums a pensive note
to himself as he checks it over and then nods.
“What do you want in exchange?”
“Just information, if you have it.”
His eyebrows raise and he waits for you to continue. You finger the
edge of the skin nervously.
“Have you seen any groups of wanderers around? People who look
like they… might belong… not here?”
“Travellers?”
“Yes.”
He sniffs and takes the skin from you, running his hand over the soft
fur that’s stayed surprisingly intact.
“I saw ’em. Not sure where they were headed. But if you’re lookin’
for ’em, there’s a radio tower near here that I’ve heard still works. If
you can strike up a radio connection, you might be able to track ’em
down.”
Your eyes go wide.
“Radio tower? Where?”
You’re so excited you almost tear it in half as you pull it out your
pack, but the man takes your map and makes a little mark on it with
a pen pulled from his pocket.
“There. Head that way. You’ll wanna avoid here and here,” he circles
two more points, “bad blood in those areas. Not something you want
to get caught up in.”
“Thank you,” you tell him earnestly, but he waves it off.
“It’s nothing. Watch yourself on the way down.”
You take your cue to leave. He doesn’t move from the doorway until
you’re hidden from his sight, but you’re too happy to notice, high on
the fact you finally have a lead.
END.
Remove either Tiger Skin OR Deer Skin from your inventory.
Add The Streets (Chapter 28, L.28), The Caravans (Chapter 24,
Add a Red Circle (F.27) to map around Location 28.
Add a Green Circle (F.28) to map around Locations 24 and 25.
23.18
You feel rage bubbling through your body, a white-hot light burning
through to the end of your fingertips. Your hands clench in response
and you stare at the man, your stare calm and definitely frightening.
“If you don’t let me go, I will get out of here. And when I do, you will
regret this.”
He’s shaken, but adjusts his grip on the gun.
“I could just shoot you right here.”
“Try it.”
The words are a definite bluff; if he shot you, you’d be stuffed, but
the gumption behind them gives him pause. He looks at your fists,
gripped so tightly that your knuckles are turning white.
And then he realises he might have got himself in deeper than he
thought.
A few minutes later, he’s freed you from the trap. At first, you
thought his slow and deliberate movements were because he was
trying to annoy you, but now that you’re up close you can tell it’s
because his hands are shaking in fear. He had you in a trap and you
managed to dominate him.
A feeling of smugness rips through you.
The moment you’re free, you grab the man by his head and slam his
face into your knee. He yells in pain until you do it again, and he’s
knocked unconscious and falls to the ground. You smile at his frail
little body before you begin to inspect his pockets.
The gun is old. You don’t really want to carry around a bunch of
basically scrap metal, but you take the bullets anyway. His pockets
yield very little though. Some dried fruit, and a tiny bit of scribbled
paper. You unfold it and find that it’s actually a hand-drawn map of
the local area with tiny symbols to annotate it. You copy what he’s
written down onto your own map before throwing the screwed-up
piece of paper at his face.
You leave him on the floor. You’ve got what you want… for now.
END.
Add The Battlefield (Chapter 26, L.26) and The Streets (Chapter
28, L.28) to map.
23.19
You bring your head back then quickly forward with an
almighty crack. The headbutt is fierce and swift, and the man looks
dazed. It takes a second one to knock him out completely.
Taking the man under the arms, you drag his body back inside his
house, kicking the door shut as you go. It’s quite a quaint little place.
Neat furniture – neater than anything else you've seen in the old
world, and far more homely than the furnishings back in the vault.
A nicely laid table and comfortable sofa, a small kitchen with an aga.
You drop the man and take a look around.
There’s a length of rope coiled in his cupboard, plastic and blue, and
you use it to bind his arms and legs to a kitchen chair. Once you’re
satisfied that he’s secured, you start to make good on your promise
and ransack his house for things to steal.
Honestly, it’s disappointing. The man doesn’t have a lot of things
worth taking. He has some fresh rations, ripe tomatoes and tasty-
looking courgettes, which you place in the top of your pack. There's
also a map tacked to the larder door which you shove into a side
pocket, too. You’ll assimilate it into your own one later. Apart from
that there’s nothing to take – a few bags of fertiliser, a broken torch.
The evening draws on, and the man remains unconscious. You heat
up his oven and make yourself a thick soup of fresh vegetables and
munch it happily, feeling very full and content.
You go upstairs as the evening draws in – checking the man’s ropes
are still tight and his gun is far across the room from him – and find
a bedroom with a tidily made bed. You sink into it and let out a
contented sigh as you lie down, the softness of the downy pillow and
mattress making you fall asleep almost instantly.
You wake up with the dawn, stretching and content, before heading
downstairs to finish off the stew you made yesterday. You’re met
with a stony glare from the man, who’s still bound to the chair.
You’re thankful you remembered to gag him yesterday. The two of
you stare at each other as you finish eating before you walk over and
pick up his gun.
Eyes wide, he begins to shake his head desperately, trying to talk
around his gag, begging you to spare his life, before you turn it
around and smash it into his head. For the second time in as many
days his head lulls backwards, unconscious. You throw the gun into
the corner of the room and leave the windmill, shutting the door
behind you as you walk back down the hill.
You don’t untie him.
END.
Add Courgettes & Tomatoes (F.23) to your notebook.
Add The Battlefield (Chapter 26, L.26) and The Streets (Chapter
28, L.28) to map.
23.20
The man sniffs and looks up at you, hands stilling at his work for a
moment.
“I farm,” he tells you at length.
“Oh?” You try to prompt more out of him.
“Yep. Soil up here is pretty decent. Not as irradiated as everything
else.”
“Did you try farming in other places?” You don’t know much about
farm work but it’s nice to have a conversation with someone. The
man takes a long moment to reply again, as if he’s considering every
word he’s about to say and wondering if he should impart it.
“Yeah. Family did. Grandfather. After the bombs fell. Went around
trying to grow things. Found the best place was here.”
“So it was a family business?”
“‘Business’? No. Way of survival. If you can grow food, you can eat it.
Makes you better off than the other buggers round here.”
“They had a farm back at the vault,” you tell him, then click your
mouth shut. You didn’t mean to tell him you came from the vault,
not until you got more of a feel for how he would react, but he
doesn’t seem to care. Instead, he raises an eyebrow and continues,
“You do much of it?”
“They tried to get all the children to join in. I was never very good.
Plus, all the vegetables sort of tasted like chemicals. They weren’t
very tasty.”
The man finishes tidying up your wound, tying the ends of the
bandage off neatly, before standing up with more energy than you’d
seen him display.
“Come on. I’ll show you.”
You’re not sure what that means, but you take the opportunity to
follow him. He leads you out of the windmill and towards the white
tunnels next to it. Finally getting a better look at them, you can see
they’re made of shiny plastic, and stretch out a good fifty feet in
length. The man pulls back a flap and gestures you inside.
The interior is surprisingly warm, and you’re shocked at what greets
you – you’ve never seen so many vegetables in one place.
Ripe red tomatoes, full and heavy, looking ready to fall off the vine.
Long, shiny green courgettes. There are a couple of vegetables you
don’t know the name of and you find yourself stepping towards
them to hold them in your hand, study them, try to work out if they
were anything like the ones you had back in the vault.
“You grew all this?!” you exclaim, gobsmacked. The man smiles a bit,
surprisingly shy but also clearly quite proud of his crop.
“Aye.”
“By yourself?”
His face falls for just a second and you realise you’ve accidentally hit
a nerve. Something you genuinely didn’t intend to do. When he
answers, his voice is soft.
“Aye. Just me now.”
You don’t push any further. Instead you run your hands through the
leaves of the plants and try to concentrate on the texture and the
smell, making sure this memory is something you can carry with
you when you leave and head back out into the world.
Ask to take a sample of the soil – Turn to 23.23, Needs Chemistry.
Ask to stay the night – Turn to 23.24.
Leave now – Turn to 23.25.
23.21
“Why all the traps?” you ask. He grunts.
“Keeps nosy parkers out.”
You take offence to that, but then you see a tiny
smile on his lips and realise he was joking. It makes you feel oddly
reassured.
“Apart from that, then.”
“Raiders,” he sighs, “getting worse ’n’ worse these days. Had to start
putting the traps up about a year ago. They lost a lot of people last
time they tried to come ’ere. Haven’t tried again since.”
You nod. It’s impressive, one man holding back a whole clan of
raiders single-handedly. Then you think of the price he has to pay
for his safety, being up here all alone all the time. Is it worth the
threat of raiders, you wonder, to have the comfort of community?
The longer you’re out in this strange land, the less you can answer
that question.
The man ties off the bandage and you give your shoulder a little roll,
testing how it feels. The bandages seem tight and secure, and though
it still hurts to move, you definitely feel better.
“Thank you,” you tell him. He nods and leans back in his chair,
summing you up again before he reaches into his pocket and pulls
out a pipe, lighting it up and puffing the smoke down. You cough a
little bit when he exhales.
“So, you gonna tell me why you were up ’ere?”
“I was looking for my group. I got separated from them in the storm
a while back.”
“Mmm,” he says, agreeing with you, “it was a nasty one. Your group
got radio?”
The question knocks you and you don’t answer until he asks again.
“Yes, I think so,” you say, trying to remember what the base looked
like when you arrived there all that time ago.
“There’s a radio tower not far from here. Still works is what I hear.
Could find your group using that.”
Your eyes light up.
“Really?”
“Yep. You got a map?”
You rummage in your pack and spread it out onto the table. The man
pulls a little black pen from his pocket and starts making
annotations. You watch, enraptured.
“Here’s the radio tower. You’re gonna wanna avoid here, here, and
here. ” He jabs the pen into the last circle he drew. “That’s where the
raiders come from.”
“All right,” you say, taking the map as he rolls it back up.
“You’ll wanna be on your way before the sun sets. Avoid the traps.”
“Yes, of course.” You get to your feet and pull your pack over your
good shoulder, not wanting to overstay your welcome. The man sees
you to the door and watches you go, making sure you leave. You
understand why he’s cautious so you don’t take offence. You decide
to concentrate on the journey ahead of you and try not to stand in

any other traps.
END.
L.28), The Base/The Offer (Chapter 18, L.18), and The Radio
Tower (Chapter 25, L.25) to map.
23.22
The two of you sit in silence as he does his work. You want to try to
strike up a conversation, but you don’t know how. This man is so
odd and quiet. You’re worried that anything you say will make him
reach for his gun. So instead you wait, the only sounds the soft
movement of bandages and two sets of breathing.
Eventually, he ties the bandage off and inspects his work, clearly
happy with it. Then, he stares up at your face and his happiness
abruptly ends.
“You’d better get going,” he tells you.
“Yes, of course,” you say, tucking your arm back into your coat and
getting ready to leave. He watches you as you go. You want to ask
him for directions, but you get the feeling that conversation has
ended. As you leave, you survey the surroundings, taking in this
view for the last time. In the distance, you see a trail of caravans
trundling their way along a hill. You’ll head there next, you decide.
Maybe they’ll be more open to discussion.
You leave and try not to think about the fact you know he’s watching
you.
END.
23.23
“Can I take a sample of the soil here? It would be nice to be able to
analyse it to see what grows best.”
The man nods and you scrape some of the soil into
a container, something that will help preserve it until you get back
to your group. The man discusses the pH balance of the dirt with
you, talking about different fertilisers he’s come up with to
maximise his crop yield. His face lights up when he talks about his
plants. It’s quite endearing. The two of you end up in a lengthy chat
about gardening, and by the time you leave the tunnel farm to go
back inside, it’s evening.
“I don’t know where you’re going. But if you don’t find it, and you
ever want a job, I’d be happy to have you here,” he says. You smile.
It’s a nice thought. If you didn’t find your group, maybe you could
see yourself having a life here.
Turn to 23.24.
23.24
You let out a loud yawn, which catches you by surprise. You slam
your hand over your mouth and look over to see if you’ve offended
the man. He just chuckles.
“You can stay here tonight if you want. Wouldn’t wish going back
down the hill in the dark on you.”
You worry for a moment, because you don’t really know him and he
does have a gun, but from the little he’s opened up to you, he seems
quite genuine. Just a little shy. A little rusty at socialising, maybe.
“I’d appreciate that. Thank you very much.”
The man sets up a bed for you on his floral sofa and bids you
goodnight before ascending the stairs to go to sleep himself. The
blankets he’s given you are musty from dust and disuse, but they
still keep you snug and warm. You listen for a little while, just to
make sure he definitely goes to sleep, before allowing yourself to
indulge too.
You wake up to the smell of fried food. It’s something you’ve not
smelled for a long time. With a yawn, you sit up and see the man is
standing over his stove, an assortment of frying pans laid out before
him. He smiles.
“Coffee?” he asks. You’ve never had it before. You only ever had tea
back in the vault. Or water, usually.
“Thank you,” you say, and he brings you over a mug of steaming
brown liquid. You taste it and gag, making him laugh.
“All right. It’s not for everyone,” he tells you, bringing you a mug of
water instead, along with a plate of steaming fried vegetables and
two large eggs. It smells divine. You begin to gobble it down with
your fingers, stopping only when he returns to pass you a fork. You
try not to eat so fast you feel sick.
“Why are you being so kind to me?” you ask, finally addressing the
question that’s been on your mind all morning.
“Because it’s nice to have the company of someone who doesn’t
want to rob me,” he tells you honestly.
Ah. When he puts it like that you understand.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” you tell him.
“You’re welcome to come back here, you know. If you don’t find
what you’re looking for. You’ll have to mind the traps, though.”
You nod. If you really don’t ever find your group again…
You try not to think about it.
“Take this,” he says as you stand, passing you a piece of paper.
It’s a hand-drawn map of the local area with annotations on it.
“There’s a radio tower near here. I think it still works. You might be
able to get in contact with whoever you’re looking for. Also jotted
down a couple of places you’ll wanna watch out for.”
You thank him again, making a note to add his map to your own.
When you leave, he watches you go. You think it’s partly to make
sure you do actually leave his property, but also to see you off. You
hope he won’t be lonely without you. Then again, as he said, you
could always come back…
END.
L.28), The Base/The Offer (Chapter 18, L.18), and The Radio
Tower (Chapter 25, L.25) to map.
23.25
You spend more time at the farm, discussing the man’s
farming and life in general, but soon you realise the sun is going
down and you need to be on your way. You make this known to the
farmer and can’t miss the look of disappointment on his face.
“Be safe on the way back,” he tells you, describing all the points
where the most dangerous traps are. After a moment, he realises
there’s no way you can remember all of it and asks for your map,
which you hand over. He makes some annotations before passing it
back, little pinpricks showing where all the traps are as well as a
couple of circles around places nearby.
“There’s a radio tower over here. Think it might still work. If you’re
looking for anyone, that’s going to be the place you want to head to.
And mind out for these places,” he taps on the map, “dangerous
people round there. Nothing you want to get involved in.”
You thank him sincerely, but he waves it off.
“Look. If you don’t find what you’re after, you’re welcome back here.
Could always do with an assistant.”
The idea makes you smile. You think maybe that wouldn’t be such a
bad life.
“Thank you,” you tell him honestly, and he grunts.

He watches you leave, and when you turn round to wave before you
disappear out of his sight, he returns it. You feel a little bit happier,
knowing you’ve made a friend in this place.
END.
CHAPTER 24
THE CARAVANS
24.1
You catch up with the caravans with surprising ease. They’ve
stopped for the evening and you can see at least a dozen people in
animated conversation surrounding a campfire, their wagons
secured so they stay in place for the night. There are a couple of
those large, orange beasts you’re sure you’ve seen before in other
places you’ve visited. One of them stares at you with soulful black
eyes before letting out a snort and going back to chewing the grass.
The group watch as you approach, quiet and nervous until a man
stands to address you. From the confidence with which he holds
himself, you guess he’s in charge.
“Good evening, friend. What brings you out this way?”
He’s middle aged, greying a bit, with a warm smile full of yellow
teeth. His friendliness seems to be genuine, but you know better
than to trust people on sight.
“Travelling,” you reply, not wanting to lie but not wanting to reveal
too much, either.
“It’s always nice to have someone new to talk to around here. Will
you join us for a meal?”
There’s a young man at a large-looking pot over the campfire. His

stirring slows to a stop as the leader asks you to join them, but when
you glance over he goes back to busying himself in his work.
“That would be very kind of you,” you say, slowly taking a place in
the circle round the fire and placing your pack next to your feet.
Conversation is slow to start up again now you’ve joined the group,
but when everyone has adjusted to the fact that you’re there they
start to talk to each other again, albeit tentatively. Mostly, they
discuss the newest load they’ve picked up for trade, and how their
journey has gone so far. Nothing particularly interesting.
A couple of caravaners still watch you warily. An old woman with a
pipe clenched in her wrinkled lips and one grey eye has been staring
at you since your arrival. There’s also a group of children who giggle
and hide whenever your gaze turns to them. A bowl of thick,
steaming soup is pushed into your hands as you wonder who, if
anyone, you should engage with.
Eat quietly – Turn to 24.2.
Talk to the old woman – Turn to 24.3.
Talk to the children – Turn to 24.4.
Talk to the man in charge – Turn to 24.5.
24.2
You don’t want to talk, you decide. It’s nice that they’ve offered to
share their food with you, but they didn’t ask for anything in
exchange. You sit in silence, the only noise you make being the
sound of you blowing on your soup before popping it in your mouth.
Every now and then, the man who invited you to sit with the group
glances over as if he wishes you’d be more talkative, but he can’t
force you to speak unless you want to.
The evening draws on and the bowls are gathered. Some people help
themselves to seconds while others yawn and retire for the evening.
You remain where you are, quietly observing the goings-on.
After a while, the man in charge approaches you, the smile still on
his face, only this time a little less warmly than when you first
talked.
“We’re going to go to sleep for the evening. You’re welcome to make
camp with us if you want. Safety in numbers, and all that.”
“Thank you,” you say, starting the process of building your tent.
The man hesitates, as if he wants to say something else, but decides
against it and leaves you to your work.
You have one eye on your tent and the other on the rest of the camp
as you go. The carts and caravans they have packed seem to be
incredibly full.
Who knows what useful items they might have in there? Things that
could really help you with your journey. You wonder how easy it
would be to have a look through their belongings. Then again, the
process would be a lot easier if all of them were… unable to wake up,
you suppose.
Sleep for the evening – Turn to 24.6.
Go through their supplies when everyone is asleep – Turn to 24.7.
Poison them when they’re asleep and steal as much as you can –
Turn to 24.12, Needs Chemistry OR Medicine.
24.3
You move around the circle until you’re sitting near the old woman,
her good eye watching as you come towards her.
She takes a long draw on her pipe and puffs out the smoke in little
rings. It’s quite impressive. She laughs when she sees your
amazement.
“You don’t come from around here, do you?” she asks. Her voice is
old and croaky. She reminds you of Vola, back in the vault, and
maybe that’s why you find yourself opening up to her.
“No. I don’t.”
“You’ve come from far away. I can see it in your eyes.”
You’re not sure how true that is, but she’s not wrong; you have
travelled pretty far to get here.
“So,” she says, stretching her old legs out to get them a little bit
warmer by the fire, “are you going to tell me your story?”
Tell her about your journey – Turn to 24.8.
Don’t tell her anything – Turn to 24.9.
24.4
You make your way past the roaring fire, a couple of
caravaners watching you suspiciously as you go, and approach the
gaggle of giggling children who only titter more as you approach.
There are three of them, all around six years old, huddled around a
game board. When you’re actually close enough to speak to them
they all look suddenly skittish and wide-eyed, as if the fact that you
might want to have a conversation never crossed their minds.
“That looks fun,” you say, pointing to the board. One of them nods
and scuffs his foot on the ground, which seems to have become a lot
more interesting to look at now that you’re standing in front of
them.
Take a closer look – Turn to 24.10, Needs Game Knowledge.
Ask how to play – Turn to 24.11.
24.5
You scoot over to the man who welcomed you to the group.
His face lights up as you come closer, swallowing his mouthful of
food so he’s able to talk.
“How are you finding the food, my friend?”
“Very good,” you admit; it is. Wherever they got the ingredients for
the soup, they were clearly fresh because it tastes amazing – rich
and full of flavour.
“I’m glad, I’m glad! There’s an upside to being a caravaner, you
know.”
He winks at you and you find yourself smiling. He has an easy
kindness about him, this man.
“So, how does your caravan work?” you ask, genuinely interested to
find out a little more. The man gestures over his shoulder with his
spoon.
“Mostly we pick up purchases from one of the bigger cities inland
and run them towards the smaller ones by the coast. We try and do a
trip a month.”
“What about raiders?” you ask. He grits his teeth, as if you’ve
brought up a painful subject.
“Yes, they’re always a problem. The only thing we have on our side
is speed. Can’t be robbed if you’re not caught.”
“That’s very brave.”
“Well, you do what you have to to survive out here, eh?” He pokes
his soup around in his bowl pensively. “We’re headed back inland
for the moment. We got quite the haul this time. Say…” He stands up
and heads over towards one of the caravans, beckoning you to
follow. “You know much about pre-war stuff? I know it’s a long shot,
but we picked up some things nobody can identify.”
Investigate the strange tub of powder – Turn to 24.13, Needs
Chemistry.
Investigate the book in old language – Turn to 24.14, Needs Old
World Language.
Investigate the odd-looking box – Turn to 24.15, Needs Knowledge.
Ask to trade with what’s in your pack – Turn to 24.16.
Ask to sleep – Turn to 24.6.
24.6
You make it known to the group that you’re tired and ready for bed.
Nobody seems particularly bothered. You clamber into your tent, set
up not too far from the rest of the group, and put your head down.
You can hear people talking outside. It’s comforting, honestly, to
know that you have people surrounding you. Every night you’ve had
to camp out alone has made you nervous.
There’s no telling what might come to get you if you don’t have
someone else to look out. Raiders sneaking up and slicing your
throat before they rob you. Wild animals attacking your tent and
catching you unawares.
Of course, neither of those things have happened.
Yet.
You snuggle down into your sleeping bag and let the quiet murmur
of people’s conversations lull you to sleep.
The next morning, you awake to more chatter and the smell of even
more food cooking. You stretch yourself and make your body come
to life before poking your head out of your tent. The man who
greeted you yesterday smiles at you and offers you a bowl – pretty
similar to what you ate last night.
“We’ll be heading on our way in about an hour, which is where we’ll
have to part ways with you. Where are you heading to, traveller?”
“I’m trying to find my group. We were separated in the storm a
while back.”
How long ago was the storm? You really don’t remember. It seems
you’ve been searching for them for years.
“Well, there’s a church in the city. They might be there. A lot of
people head there when they aren’t sure what else to do. Or maybe
the library? It’s a good place to get information.”
“Maybe,” you say, fidgeting with your bowl. You don’t really have
much of an idea. They might be places your people went but if they
aren’t, aren’t you just wasting more time?
“Have you got a map?”
You pass it to the man and he scribbles a few notes on it.
“I’ve marked them for you, plus a couple of places to avoid. I hope
you find your way, traveller.”
Those are the last proper words you’re given before the caravan
packs off and ships out. Nobody seems to want to talk to you much
more except to vaguely wish you goodbye or good luck. You watch
them leave back on their journey to trade more and hope they have
good luck. Honestly, in this place, you think they’ll probably need it
even more than you do.
END.
Add The Library (Chapter 17, L.17), The Church (Chapter 14,
L.14), The Streets (Chapter 28, L.28), The Radio Tower (Chapter
25, L.25), and The Battlefield (Chapter 26, L.26) to map.
Add a Green Circle (F.28) to map around Locations 14, 17 and 25.
24.7
You lie down in your sleeping bag and wait. It takes ages for the
conversations to die down and people to head off to bed. The most
irritating thing is the fact that you can’t hear exactly what they’re
saying, their mumbling is so low, so you can’t even entertain
yourself by eavesdropping.
Time goes by slowly, but eventually you’re sure nobody else is
speaking, straining your ears against the silence of the night to make
sure the sniffles you can hear are definitely snoring. Then you
slowly, slowly unzip your tent and climb out.
There are a few other canvas tents. You can hear loud breathing
coming from them, but some members of the caravan have decided
to sleep under the stars. That’s annoying. You’ll have to be extra
quiet to avoid waking them.
You tiptoe over to one of the caravans and part the tarpaulin over it.
It’s all crates and barrels. Damn. You try the next one over, moving
your feet as softly on the ground as you can so as not to wake any
sleepers. The plastic rustles obnoxiously loud and you grimace.
There’s a rolled-up piece of written-on paper lying free, which you
sneak into your pocket, but everything else is tied down, you’d need
to cut the rope to—
“What are you doing?”

The voice is loud enough to command your attention, but not so
loud it wakes the others. You turn to see the man who greeted you
sitting bolt upright from his sleeping bag, staring at you with
narrowed, unfriendly eyes.
You open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off. It’s a pretty
damning situation.
“I think it’s best if you leave now. Before I make you.”
The man lifts up his pillow, and underneath you see a huge knife.
You take the hint, returning to your tent and quickly and quietly
collapsing it. His eyes don’t leave you until you’re done, when he
uses his blade to gesture for you to leave.
You pick up your pack and head back into the black night. You don’t
risk going back.
END.
Add Scavenger Map (F.24) to your notebook.
L.14), The Streets (Chapter 28, L.28), and The Battlefield
24.8
“It’s a long story,” you confess.
“I have time to listen,” she replies, continuing to puff.
So you tell her. The story comes easily, starting when you sailed
with Gaia and Viktor, a wry smile on your face as you describe them
both. Docking and meeting the group. Going for your first
assignment. Being separated from everyone and left alone.
With such a small group, it doesn’t take much time for everyone’s
attention to be on you. Even the rambunctious children stop their
roughhousing to sit down and listen. Your tale goes on,
uninterrupted, until you get to the point where you found yourself
at the caravans. It’s a bit of a poor ending, but it’s as far as you’ve
got.
You sip the soup but find that it’s cold.
“That’s a harrowing story, friend,” says the man who greeted you.
You shrug.
“It’s been tiring. But, you do what you have to.”
“If you’re looking for people, have you tried the radio tower?” he
asks. You shake your head and he asks for your map, scribbling
something on it for you.
“You might be able to track them down from there. It still works.”
“Really?”
“Aye, from what I’ve heard. I hope you find your group.”
You stare at the map long after everyone has retired for the night.
A lead, finally. You can barely wait to get going in the morning, but
you also understand the luxury of sleeping around other people isn’t
one you’re likely to have again any time soon, so you force yourself
to sleep, listening to the crackling of the fire as you drift off into
dreams. Tomorrow, you know which way to head.
END.
24.9
You open your mouth to speak but find yourself clacking it shut
again. What would you say? Talk about the heartbreak of losing the
only people you had in this land? The violence from the run-ins with
raiders? The horrors you’ve had to endure since being all alone?
It’s not something you want to dwell on, and it’s definitely not
something you want to share.
The old woman looks a bit disappointed when you clam up instead
of speaking, but she seems to understand. She shuffles so she’s
facing the fire and keeps on puffing her pipe in silence, knowingly.
Turn to 24.2.
24.10
When one of the children scuffs their foot on the ground, you get a
better look at the game and are surprised to recognise the brightly
coloured glass pieces scattered around it in the grass.
“I know this game!” you say, pointing. They follow your finger to
where you’re gesturing at the ground and look surprised.
“Do you... want to play?” one of them asks, their cheeks bright red in
their shyness. You nod and sit down with the children.
They play against you, one by one, thoroughly trouncing you each
time and lording their victory over you in a way only little children
can get away with. You take it in good spirit, though, and the adults
in the group watch on, clearly glad to have someone help distract
the children for a little while. You play for an hour or so, until they’re
called to bed by their parents, and when they complain and ask to
stay up for just a little bit longer you eke out another few games.
Eventually, though, the children get tired and are corralled off to
their beds for the night.
You’re thanked for keeping them entertained, but you feel like you
don’t really need to be. It was a nice way to while away the evening.

Turn to 24.6.
24.11
You sit down with the children round the game and ask them how to
play. They try to explain as best they can, but they are only children,
and it’s incredibly apparent how young they are when they try to
explain. Their words are garbled and confusing, and when you try to
make a move they keep telling you you’re doing it wrong. It seems to
make them frustrated.
“Can’t we just play tag?” one of them asks, her voice stretching out
and whining. You give in and let them chase you around the camp
for the evening, letting them win to appease them. However, the
adults in the camp don’t seem to appreciate it, sighing and side-
eyeing every time a child runs screaming past them.
Eventually, the children tire out for the evening and are called off to
bed, but the amount of adrenaline in them means they don’t go
down easily for the night and the adults’ stink-eye looks start being
trained on you.
You try not to make eye contact with any of the adults. Maybe,
playing tag right before bedtime wasn’t actually the best idea.
Turn to 24.6.
24.12
You lie in your tent for a little while, until you’re sure that everyone
around you is asleep. The only noises they make are the stuttered
breaths in their snores. You grab what you need from your pack and
sneak out of your tent.
Maybe it’s a bit harsh, but honestly, these people are of more use to
you dead than alive. Without them to argue, it will be far easier to
pilfer their belongings.
While some of the caravaners sleep in hastily erected canvas tents,
others chose to lie in sleeping bags under the stars – you’re going to
have to be quiet. You thought ahead and removed your shoes, but
it’s still difficult to sneak through rows of sleeping people.
You make your way to the pot that’s been left over the fire after
dinner. It’s been cleaned but kept ready for the next day’s meal, you
guess. You’re counting on it. You reach into your pocket and pull out
the vial you slipped out of your pack and quietly deposit its contents
inside.
Someone snores loudly behind you and makes you jump, but a quick
check reveals that nobody is awake to see what you’ve done.
Feeling relieved, you go back to your tent and bunker down for the
evening.
You wake the next morning to… silence. There’s the occasional bird
call, but no human chatter. You lie down for a moment, making sure
there’s nothing else to be heard, before you poke your head out of
the tent.
Everyone is dead.
Bodies litter the ground. Spilled bowls of food are clutched in some
people’s hands, dropped when they started to choke and die.
Not a single person was spared.
You walk into the daylight and stretch before inspecting what’s been
done. Nobody seems to be breathing. Every person you met
yesterday lies scattered gruesomely on the ground around you.
You get dressed, and get to work.
A lot of what they were transporting isn’t incredibly helpful to you.
Crates full of copper piping. Sheets of plastic and fabric. They have
some fresh vegetables which you squirrel away, but other than that?
You’re really not sure they’re carrying anything useful or valuable.
You perch on the side of a cart and sigh. If you’d known that before,
you might not have done what you did. It seems a shame.
Still, can’t change it now, you suppose.
Out the corner of your eye, you spot a rolled-up piece of paper.
You take the scroll and unroll it.
It’s a map, with little notations around the local area. It’s better than
nothing, you suppose. You copy the notes onto your own map before
packing up your tent and leaving the site.
Maybe someone else will find the other things more useful.
END.
Add High Quality Rations (O.6) to your inventory.
L.14), The Streets (Chapter 28, L.28), and The Battlefield
24.13
You pick up the tub and turn it over in your hands. There’s definitely
something inside, you can feel it tumbling about.
You twist the cap off, straining a little bit because of how stiff it is,
and inspect the inside.
The tub is full of loose powder, a soft peach colour. You stick a finger
into it and rub it against your thumb. The bigger clumps fall apart
into dust.
“Any ideas?” asks the man.
“A couple,” you reply, reaching into your pack for your chemistry
set. Once you’ve confirmed the pH balance you hand it back to him.
“It’s make-up.”
“Make-up?”
“You know, what some people put on their faces. Look.”
You take a pinch of the stuff again and rub it into the skin on the
man’s forearm, demonstrating how it’s meant to even out skin tone.
The man looks surprised.
“Interesting. Not useful though,” he sighs, tightening the lid back on.
He’s right. Nobody uses make-up any more – the closest thing to it
that you’ve seen out here is on raiders. Even then, the look they go
for is to distract from the blood they’re covered in.
Or maybe to add to the look – you’re not sure.

“Well, thank you anyway,” the man says with a smile as he puts the
little tub away. You accept his thanks with a shrug and wonder
where the little pot will end up, or if they’ll just throw it out if they
find it can’t be sold.
Add one of Compassion, Cruelty, Instability, OR Resolve to your
character sheet once.
Turn to 24.6.
24.14
You pick up the book as carefully as you can. It’s brittle, and hasn’t
been well taken care of. The pages stick together from damp, but
you can make out a few words here and there and start to read them
aloud.
It’s an old story, you gather that from the language. It isn’t written
how people speak nowadays, nor how they spoke before the war.
It’s old-fashioned.
It’s about a girl who falls down a hole and encounters all sorts of
strange creatures. You’re going to stop after a paragraph but you see
the children have started paying attention – along with a couple of
the adults. You feel prompted to continue, and you find you read for
a couple of hours, the people of the caravan hooked on the strange
story. Eventually, the book gets into such a bad condition you can’t
read any further but it looks like a couple of people have already
nodded off. The man smiles at you.
“Well, looks like we might be onto something. This could be worth a
fair bit of money.”
You pass the book back to him and he smiles at you. You don’t really
care about the value of it, but it was a nice way to pass the
evening. You wonder if you’ll ever find a copy of the book where you
can read the end.
Add or Remove one of Compassion, Cruelty, Instability, OR
Resolve from your character sheet once.
Turn to 24.6.
24.15
The box seems to be some sort of puzzle. It involves twisting the
wooden outside to get access to whatever it’s holding.
You tell the man this and he gives you free rein to try to solve the
thing.
You spend the evening doing so, moving the little puzzle this way
and that and listening out for the telltale clicks that mean you’ve
moved the piece into the right position. You’re so lost in your work
it’s a complete surprise when the thing comes undone in your hands.
A few delicate silver chains fall onto your lap. You pick them up and
observe them in the firelight. A little dirty, yes, but far better than
they would have been had they not had the box to protect them.
The man wanders over to have a look, and you pass him what you
found.
“Jewellery. Nobody will want that,” he says with a chuckle. It’s not
something you’ve seen anyone wear out here. Why spend money on
frivolous things like that when you could be getting food, you
suppose.
Instead, you watch the man divide it all up amongst his group. He
offers you a necklace which you take, just in case.
Remove one of Compassion, Cruelty, Instability, OR Resolve

from your character sheet once.
Add Jewellery (O.17) to your inventory.
Turn to 24.6.
24.16
“Actually,” you say, knowing you won’t be of any help to him
identifying, “I was hoping to do some trade with you.”
“Of course,” says the man. “What have you got on you, friend?
I’m sure we can work out a deal.”
You spend the evening going through what you’ve picked up while
you’ve been out in this land and swapping it for more helpful things
– a new, larger water skein, some thermal socks. It’s a productive
evening, all in all, and you feel ready to face a new day tomorrow.
You may remove as many items from your Inventory as you like.
Add the Caravan Trade (P.2) to the Perks section of your character
sheet, marking the number of items you removed on the sticker. You
may ignore a trait change by reducing your Caravan Trade sticker
value by one, to a minimum of zero.
Turn to 24.6.
CHAPTER 25
THE RADIO TOWER
25
IF YOU HAVE GAIA WITH YOU:
Read each option G in sections 1,4 and 6 if you are instructed to go
to those numbered sections.
25.0
Turn to 25.1, Cannot have Gaia’s Badge OR Gaia in Tow.
Turn to 25.1a, Needs Gaia’s Badge.
Turn to 25.1G, Needs Gaia in Tow.
25.1
Your chest almost bursts with excitement, relief, exhaustion when
you see the tower rising up from the horizon.
You did it.
You’re here.
No time to slow down, though. Every moment you’re not moving is a
moment your group could be getting further away. Your walk turns
to a jog as you approach it.
The tower’s shape ebbs into focus. A huge metal triangle pointing up
towards the sky with strange circles stuck to it – wait, not circles.
Discs? For receiving and sending signals, you think. The ones on the
radio tower are thick and brown with rust, plant vines crawling
round and wrapping them up.
You hope they still work.
A squat building sits beneath the radio tower. The control centre,
almost certainly. It’s dark, but you can’t see anybody moving inside.
Inspect the discs – Turn to 25.2, Needs Engineering.
Try to get into the squat building – Turn to 25.4.
25.1G
Your chest almost bursts when you see the tower rising up from the
horizon. With excitement, relief, exhaustion. You did it. You’re here.
“Oh my god,” says Gaia, echoing your thoughts. She can’t believe it
either.
moment your group can get further away. Your walk turns into a jog
as you approach it, Gaia hot on your heels.
The tower’s shape ebbs into focus. A huge metal triangle pointing up
towards the sky with strange circles stuck to it. Wait, not circles –
discs? For receiving and sending signals. The ones on the radio
tower are thick and brown with rust, plant vines crawling round and
wrapping them up. You hope they still work.
almost certainly. It’s dark, and you can’t see anybody moving inside.
“It’s kinda spooky round here,” says Gaia.
“Yeah,” you say. It is. Eerily quiet, oddly still. “I’m going to try and
look around.”
“Stay safe.”
You nod your agreement and move onwards. Gaia’s been nothing
but worried about you since the two of you started travelling here.
You can’t really blame her, you suppose. Best just not to give her any
more reason to worry.
Try to get into the squat building – Turn to 25.4G.
25.1A
Your chest almost bursts when you see the tower rising up from the
horizon. With excitement, relief, exhaustion. You did it. You’re here.
moment your group can get further away, and you want to make
sure Gaia’s all right. Your walk turns into a jog as you approach it.
The tower’s shape becomes more defined as you approach. A huge
metal triangle pointing up towards the sky with strange circles stuck
to it. Wait, not circles – discs? For receiving and sending signals. The
ones on the radio tower are thick and brown with rust, plant vines
crawling round and wrapping them up. You hope they still work.
almost certainly. It’s dark, and you can’t see anybody moving inside.
And then, suddenly, there’s another figure. She stands up and
stretches when she spots you, then comes towards you in almost a
skip.
“I thought you might not turn up,” she says. She’s smiling, but you
can still hear a hint of nervousness in her voice.
“Sorry, I got a bit sidetracked. Are you all right?”
“Oh, I’m fine. I’ve not been inside yet.” She points to the building
beneath the tower. “I was… worried about doing it alone.”
After everything she’s been through, you can’t blame her.
“All right. I’ll look around then.”
“Be careful!”
“I will.” You reach out and touch her hand supportively. It seems to
reassure her, and then you head off towards the mysterious tower.
Try to get into the squat building – Turn to 25.4G.
25.2
You walk through crisp, dry grass which crunches under your heavy
soles. You hope it’s not attracting any unwanted attention to you.
You aren’t completely sure yet if there’s anyone unfriendly in the
tower.
The closer you get, the more it dawns on you. They're not discs.
They’re satellite dishes. You know what they are from back in the
vault, having seen them being brought in from the outside for repair.
Those ones were in far better shape though, even before they were
fixed.
When you left for the old world, you remember seeing them again.
You, Gaia and Viktor making the trek to the port, the tall radio tower
sticking out from the top of the vault and waving you goodbye.
The only thing distinguishing where the vault sat, buried
underground.
They look overgrown and like they’ve seen better days, but from
here you can’t see any obvious reason why they shouldn’t work. You
take a step closer and wrap your hands around what vines you can
reach, tugging them away and clearing as much as possible. It seems
to help, at least making them look better. But the only way you’ll
know more is if you test them.

Get into the building – Turn to 25.4G, Needs Gaia in Tow OR Gaia’s
Badge.
Get into the building – Turn to 25.4, Cannot have Gaia in Tow OR
Gaia’s Badge.
25.3
You take a moment to walk the perimeter of the building, checking
every place you can. It doesn’t look like there’s anybody here, but it’s
something you’d rather double-check.
You don’t want any more nasty surprises when you’re so close to
finding your group.
The place is terribly overgrown. Grass as high as your knees, weeds
in knots to trip you. You have to take large, slow steps to get
anywhere. Judging by the fact that nothing has been trodden down,
you guess you’ve been the only one to make this journey for a while.
Nothing looks too suspicious, a couple of insects rustle through the
grass but nothing more.
And then you see it.
Snuggled at the back of the building, almost hidden by the tall grass,
is a tent. It’s propped up by the building’s wall to give a solid
structure. It looks overgrown, like the tower, but you’ve learned to
be careful by now. Just because it looks safe doesn’t mean it is.
Look through the tent – Turn to 25.5.
Get into the building – Turn to 25.4G, Needs Gaia in Tow OR Gaia’s
Badge.
Get into the building – Turn to 25.4, Cannot have Gaia in Tow OR
Gaia’s Badge.
25.4
You wade through the grass to the door of the squat building.
The handle is rusty, having been too long exposed to the elements,
and the wooden door is swollen in its frame – but it’s also rotting. All
it takes is a strong shove with your shoulder and it opens easily.
The room smells strongly of must and decay; it doesn’t take too long
to find the source. In front of the vast radio tower control panel, in a
dusty wheeled chair, sits a skeleton.
Some of its bones have fallen to the floor, where gravity has pulled
against what ligament was left and won. Its skull has lolled back and
rests on the back of the chair, smiling blankly at the ceiling.
It is, of course, very dead, but it still makes you panic.
It can’t hurt you, and eventually you take a couple of tentative steps
towards it. A spider runs out of one eye socket and into the other.
It’s a bit sad, really. This person died at this control panel. Waiting
for someone to get back to them. Clearly, nobody did.
Or, maybe that’s not true. Maybe someone did find them, maybe
someone was coming to get them and they passed away before
those people arrived. And then they didn’t have the time to bury the
corpse, so they left them here, a macabre doorman for the next
visitors.
There’s no point dwelling on it. You turn your attention to the
control panel.
It’s hard to tell if it’s still working. There’s a thick layer of dirt and
dust covering it, but some of the machinery before the war was
surprisingly robust.
Investigate the skeleton – Turn to 25.6.
Try to operate the Radio Tower – Turn to 25.7.
Try to operate the Radio Tower – Turn to 25.10, Needs Radio for
Idiots.
25.4G
You wade through the grass to the door of the squat building.
The handle is rusty, having been too long exposed to the elements,
and the wooden door is swollen in its frame, which is also rotting.
All it takes is a strong shoulder and it opens easily.
The room smells strongly of must and decay. Behind you, Gaia
coughs loudly as the dust irritates her lungs. It doesn’t take long to
find the source of it – in front of the vast control panel, in a dusty
wheeled chair, sits a skeleton.
Some of its bones have fallen to the floor, where gravity has pulled
against what ligament was left and won. Its skull has lolled back and
rests on the back of the chair, smiling blankly at the ceiling.
“Oh my god,” Gaia whispers. You nod.
“Yeah,” is all you can say. You’ve seen death, but a skeleton...
is… chilling.
It’s sad, really. This person died at the control panel. Waiting for
someone to get back to them. And clearly, nobody did.
Or, maybe that’s not true. Maybe someone did find them, maybe
someone was coming to get them and they passed away before
those people arrived. And then they didn’t have the time to bury the
corpse, so they left them here, a macabre doorman for the next
visitors.
“We should look at the controls,” Gaia announces eventually, her
voice cutting through the silence.
There’s no point dwelling on it. You nod and turn your attention to
the control panel.
It’s hard to tell if it’s still working. There’s a thick layer of dirt and
dust covering it, but some of the machinery before the war was
surprisingly robust.
Investigate the skeleton – Turn to 25.6G.
Ask Gaia what to do – Turn to 25.8.
Idiots.
25.5
You take a stick and use the end of it to pull open the tent door –
even if you’re not far away enough to be protected from any attacks,
at least you’re not touching the dirt crusted fabric.
The tent is empty. You’re not sure if you were expecting something
else, but it’s still a relief. You let out a breath you didn’t know you
were holding and take a closer look.
There’s an old, bug-eaten sleeping mat lying on the floor. Clearly, it
hasn’t been used in years. You wrinkle your nose as a spider runs
underneath it, making a note to avoid poking into it too much.
Any food supplies have long turned to piles of mould. There’s a foul
stench that makes you gag the longer you stay here so you have to
look quickly – so quickly, you almost pass over something
important.
Tucked under the end of the sleeping mat is a book. You fish it out
carefully, trying not to disturb any eight-legged occupants, and take
a look.
Read the book – Turn to 25.14, Needs Old World Language.
Try to read the book – Turn to 25.15.
25.6
You squat and look at the skeleton. It seems a bit morbid, to be
honest, but you suppose that’s just your sensibilities about life. The
skeleton just keeps on smiling at you, not caring that they’re dead.
The clothes have held up surprisingly well, and it’s with a sick sense
you realise they’re wearing a badge.
A vault badge.
It’s not yours, the flag isn’t right for them to have been from your
country. You don’t know enough about vexillology to guess where
the skeleton came from. You feel a strange moment of kinship with
them; they were probably one of the first explorers out here.
There’s nothing you can do for them now, though.
Add Vault Badge (F.25) to your notebook.
Idiots.
25.6G
You squat and look at the skeleton. It seems a bit morbid, but you
suppose that’s just your sensibilities about life. The skeleton just
keeps on smiling at you, not caring that they’re dead.
The clothes have held up surprisingly well, and it’s with a sick sense
that you realise they’re wearing a badge.
A vault badge.
It’s not yours, the flag isn’t right for them to have been from your
country. You don’t know enough about vexillology to guess where
the skeleton came from. You feel a strange moment of kinship with
them; they were probably one of the first explorers out here.
“He was an explorer. Like us.”
Gaia peeks over your shoulder, not as comfortable around the
skeleton as you are, and you feel her shiver.
“We’ll be like that one day.”
It isn’t a comforting thought. You don’t remember Gaia being this
morbid before. Then again, she’s had a lot of reasons to think about
death recently.
“We should bury them,” she says, before you have time to reply.
“Really?”
“Well, if I was them, I’d want someone to bury me.”
You look back at the grinning skull. Yes, you can understand that.
Add Vault Badge (F.25) to your notebook.
Bury the skeleton – Turn to 25.9.
Idiots.
25.7
There’s another chair in the corner of the room, covered in cobwebs
and missing a wheel, but you bring it over to the control panel
anyway. You don’t feel comfortable using a dead person’s chair.
You sit down and look at the dusty control panel, and realise you
don’t really have any idea how to use this. You were never trained
on using this sort of machinery before you left, and you never
bothered to learn. Now you’re cursing your past self, wishing you’d
had the drive to bother. It might just be your downfall.
Ask Gaia – Turn to 25.8, Needs Gaia in Tow OR Gaia’s Badge.
Try to work out how to operate the panel – Turn to 25.11.
25.8
You look once again at the sprawling control panel, each button a
mystery you have no real idea how to crack. It’s starting to all seem
very bleak.
“Gaia, do you have any idea how to work this?”
Gaia snaps to attention from where she’d been staring out the
window at the tower itself. There’s a long moment as she inspects
the system.
“I could give it a go. I used to operate the radio when we were on the
ship; I don’t think it can be that much different.”
Of course! How could you have forgotten that? All those days at sea
with Gaia twisting knobs and trying to get a signal had completely
left your mind. To be fair, though, you’ve had other things to think
about.
You clear space and Gaia takes your seat. She hums to herself as her
hands skirt over the buttons, as if she’s warming up to play some
sort of instrument, and then she starts her work. Knowing there’s
nothing useful you can do, you sit down in the corner of the room,
clearing up the dust from the area you intend to occupy for however
long this takes.
It’s a little bit like watching magic. You can’t really keep up with
what she’s doing, but she’s clearly an expert. Every now and then
she swears and bangs something with the palm of her hand, and
you’re not sure if it’s to get it working or out of frustration. In fact,
there’s a sort of rhythm to what she’s doing, and soon you find
yourself drifting away. It’s nice not to have to be the one in charge.
You aren’t sure how long you’re asleep, but you’re woken by Gaia
shouting your name. You bolt upright and scrabble for something to
use as a weapon, but stop when you see the excitement in her eyes
and hear the crackling of the radio. It’s fuzzy, and it’s pitchy, but it’s
a voice you thought you’d never hear again.
Mari.
You spring up and run over to the radio station.
“Mari?” you shout down the microphone. Gaia’s crying. You almost
want to as well, just from sheer relief. Mari says your name with a
laugh.
“You’re there too! My god, we thought we’d never hear from either of
you again.”
“Me neither,” you choke.
“I’m glad you’re all right. Or well, alive. Look, you need to get back to
camp. I’ll give you our coordinates, so be ready to write them down.”
You scramble to get your map out of your bag and scrawl down
what Mari tells you, once on paper, and once on the back of your
hand just in case.
“All right, stay where you are; we’ll be there as soon as we can,”
you say, and it comes out as a laugh because you’re ecstatic. You
wonder if you should talk to Mari for longer, but you’re both quite
keen to have you back with the group and don’t want to delay.
“Be safe,” are Mari’s last words. Grinning, you turn to Gaia. There are
streaks in the dirt on her cheeks from the lines her tears have made.
The two of you throw your arms around each other.
“It’s time to go home,” she tells you.
END.
Add The Reunion (Chapter 29, L.29) to map.
Go to The Reunion (Chapter 29).
25.9
“All right,” you sigh, “but I don’t have a shovel.”
“Me neither.”
“Well, it looks like digging a grave is out of the question.” You don’t
fancy using your hands to do that.
“All right, well, let’s at least lay them outside. It seems a bit sad that
this room is their coffin.”
You can agree with that, at least. The two of you awkwardly bring
the chair and the body to the door of the building, something which
is easier said than done as all of the wheels seem to want to go in
different directions. After the second time it almost falls on the floor
and smashes to pieces, you decide to just pick it up, you at the
shoulders and Gaia at the boots, and bring them outside by hand.
You pick a nice spot of grass that hasn’t been disturbed and tuck the
body in it as best you can. Gaia crosses the skeleton’s arms and
wipes the grime from their badge.
“Sorry we couldn’t do more for you,” she says, and you don’t know if
she means the comment to be about the burial or their death.
Either way you squeeze her shoulder reassuringly and give her a
moment of silence.
“All right,” she tells you, wiping away a tear, “let’s try and find the
others, then.”
All you can do is nod and let her lead the way.
Figure out how the panel works – Turn to 25.10, Needs Radio for
Idiots.
Ask Gaia to help with the panel – Turn to 25.8, Needs Gaia in Tow
OR Gaia’s Badge.
25.10
You sit at the control panel and crack your knuckles. You’ve never
done anything like this before, but you hadn’t done a lot of things
when you first left on this journey, and look at you now. You’re not
the person you were before.
You open the book to the beginning and start to read, slowly taking
in each word and instruction before you turn the first dial.
It takes a while. You really have no idea about this stuff, so you’re
literally going by the book. The sun eventually sets and you have to
work by torchlight, fine-tuning each of the knobs before you find
anything that works.
The static that trickles out of the speakers is a good first sign.
From then on, it’s a matter of patience – pushing forwards until you
pick up a channel, then testing to see if anyone responds.
All of them are duds. Eventually, your excitement from discovering
the stations turns to idle boredom, flicking through the channels
with a sigh. You’re almost going to give up until…
“Testing? Can anyone copy?”
You use the words you learned from the book but don’t have much
hope. You go to flick away.
“Hello?”
It’s distorted and cracked by the poor signal, but it’s a voice you
recognise. And one you weren’t sure if you’d hear again.
“Mari?”
On the other end of the line, Mari gasps and says your name.
“Yes! It’s me,” you tell her. Relief bubbles up in your chest and spills
over in tears.
“I never thought I’d hear from you again!”
“Me neither,” you sob.
“Where are you?!”
“I’m in a radio tower across the bridge. I’ve been trying to contact
you for ages. Where are you?”
“Ugh, we had to move because of the storm. We’re so sorry, we didn’t
mean to leave you behind. We tried to find you when we took off but it
was so bad all we could do was try and get to cover, and then when
the storm died down everything around us was so wrecked we
couldn’t put camp back down… look, I’ll tell you when you get here. I’ll
give you our coordinates and you can come and find us.”
You write down the information Mari gives you – on your map and
the back of your hand, just in case. You really don’t want to have to
go through this again.
“By the way, is Gaia with you?”
“Yes” – Turn to 25.12, Needs Gaia in Tow OR Gaia’s Badge.
“No” – Turn to 25.13.
25.11
Days.It takes you days.
You have no idea what you’re doing. You have no idea
where to even start. The first few hours are dedicated solely to
powering everything up.
From then on? All guesswork.
You try every dial and button, in order. Some seem to do things.
Some don’t. It’s infuriating to try to work out a pattern. More than
once you fall asleep at the controls and wake up with the imprints of
metal on your face.
You want to shout and scream. At first, you suppress the urge.
Then you just do it into the soft, sound-capturing fabric of your pack,
screeching until your lungs and throat feel raw.
You’re useless at this. You’ll never find home.
The first good sign you have is days later. Static starts to trickle out
from the speakers. Then you have to work out how to switch
between channels and get the microphone to work. That time all
adds up. Your throat is so sore from screaming that you can barely
talk to test the connections.
Then again, it seems all of them are duds. You’re flicking through
channels in idle boredom, almost giving up.
Until…
“Hello? Anyone there?” your voice is croaky and tired.
“Hello?”
It’s distorted and cracked by the poor signal, but it’s a voice you
recognise. And one you weren’t sure if you’d hear again.
“Mari?”
On the other end of the line, Mari gasps and says your name.
“Yes! It’s me,” you tell her. Relief bubbles up in your chest and spills
over in tears. It’s been – well, you lost track of time, but a while
anyway.
“I never thought I’d hear from you again!”
“Me neither,” you sob.
“Where are you?!”
“I’m in a radio tower, across the bridge. I’ve been trying to contact
you for ages. Where are you?”
“Ugh, we had to move because of the storm. We’re so sorry, we didn’t
mean to leave you behind. We tried to find you when we took off, but it
was so bad all we could do was try and get to cover, and then when
the storm died down everything around us was so wrecked we
couldn’t put camp back down… look I’ll tell you when you get here. I’ll
give you our coordinates and you can come and find us.”
You write down the information Mari gives you onto your map and
the back of your hand for safekeeping. You really don’t want to have
to go through this again.
“By the way, is Gaia with you?”
“No,” you say, solemnly.

Turn to 25.13.
25.12
At the mention of her name, Gaia perks up. She’s been
doing her own thing in the radio shack not wanting to disturb you,
but is clearly irritated that this whole process has taken so damn
long. She scurries over and grabs the microphone from you.
“Yes! I’m here!”
“Oh thank god you’re both safe. Look, get here as soon as you can, all
right? It’s been long enough now. We want you home safe.”
“Yes, of course, Mari. I can’t wait to see everyone.” Gaia is as choked
up as you.
“Be safe,” are Mari’s last words. Grinning, you turn to Gaia. There are
streaks in the dirt on her cheeks from the tracks her tears have
made. The two of you throw your arms around each other.
“It’s time to go home,” she tells you.
END.
25.13
Your heart skips a beat as Mari says the name of your friend.
“Gaia?”
“Yes, we lost her during the storm, too. We’ve been trying to find the
both of you but had no luck. I was wondering… well, it was a long shot,
I suppose. Just worry about getting yourself back here, all right. We
can at least be thankful one of you is safe.”
“I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“Be safe.”
The signal clicks off.
You sit back. Of course you’re relieved to be getting home… but you
can’t help but think about what must have happened to Gaia.
Alone in this world, not even equipped to explore like you were.
Is she dead?
You don’t know.
There’s nothing you can do now, though.
You put your pack back on and stretch.
It’s time to go home.
END.

25.14
You turn the book over in your hands. It’s dusty and ratty, but in
relatively good shape, definitely legible. You study the garish yellow
cover and see there’s a picture of a radio tower on the front. The
title reads ‘Radio for Idiots’.
You feel a little insulted, but leaf through the pages anyway. It’s a
guide, a detailed guide on how to work all kinds of radio devices –
and how to transmit your own signal! You laugh and grip the book
to your chest in triumph. This is precisely the kind of thing you need.
You tuck the book under your arm and thank whoever left it here.
They might have just saved your life.
Add Radio for Idiots (O.18) to your inventory.
Turn to 25.4, Cannot have Gaia in Tow OR Gaia’s Badge.
Turn to 25.4G, Needs Gaia in Tow OR Gaia’s Badge.
25.15
The book is in good condition, despite where it’s been stored for god
knows how long. You open a couple of pages, wincing at the
crunching sound they make and hoping you aren’t doing too much
damage.
It’s a book about radio, you can tell that from the diagrams.
Diagrams which are far too complicated to follow without words...
... it’s in the Old World language.
Of course. Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be? You’re in the Old
World. Disappointment floods your chest and you sigh, throwing the
book back inside the tent. It’s of no use to you whatsoever. You’ve
wasted enough time here. You’ve got to move on.
CHAPTER 26
THE BATTLEFIELD
26.1
There are screams rising from behind the hills. Hollers, shouts, and
cries of pain. Your face twists into a mask of horror as you approach
– what on earth have you come across? Do you even want to know?
Then again, as you climb the hill, you have a horrid thought. What if
the noise is coming from your group? What if they’re being
ambushed, slaughtered?
With a rising terror in your chest, you crest the hill and prepare for
the worst.
You’re not sure what you were expecting to see, but it’s far bloodier
than you imagined.
A huge expanse of open plain has been turned into an arena.
There’s a violent brawl going on in the middle of it; people are
hacking at each other with knives and machetes while gunners
shoot from the back of the fray. Bodies are already scattered on the
grass, blood soaking the ground with a deep red. There are two
groups, it seems, each with roughly set-up tents on either side as
base camps.
You spend a while squinting down at the fray. People are dying,
from the clothes they wear they seem to be raiders. Both sides are
raiders, even. It looks like they’re involved in some sort of... turf
war?
You’ve never seen anything like this, not this much violence. It
makes your stomach churn.
A stray bullet whizzes by your ear and you throw yourself to the
ground. Even so, you feel a strange sense of relief. At least this battle
is going on between two raider clans and your group isn’t stuck in
the middle of it.
Although it is a terrible battle, you start to think. If you were to ally
yourself with the right side, you might be able to gain some
powerful friends, or at least be rewarded for your help. You could
throw your support behind one of the two sides and fight alongside
them. It would be incredibly dangerous, though…
Approach the nearest camp, who seem to be losing – Turn to 26.2.
Approach the camp further away, who seem to be winning – Turn to
26.3.
Rush down and treat the wounded – Turn to 26.4, Needs Medicine.
Watch for a while longer – Turn to 26.5.
26.2
You scoot down the hill towards the fighting. Luckily, it’s not steep,
and everyone seems too engrossed in the battle to notice your lone
figure skirting down the side of the battlefield and into one of the
camps.
People are rushing to and from different tents, their arms laden with
weapons and what look like rudimentary bombs. They don’t pay you
so much as a passing glance, too busy taking their quarry to
wherever it’s needed, hoping to change the tide of the battle.
In the middle of the wartents, a huge table has been constructed.
From here, you can see it’s a roughly painted aerial view of the
battlefield. A huge man towers over it, his giant hands planted on
top of it as he studies what’s below him versus what he can see of
the fight in front. His wild hair has been pulled back into a ponytail,
and a permanent frown seems to be on his face. Every now and then
someone comes up to tell him a hurried message and he shouts a
command back. He must be the leader.
When you’re close enough, you catch his attention. He looks worried
for a moment, but as he takes in your appearance the frown comes
back over his face.
“You don’t look like one of theirs. But you don’t look like one of ours,
either,” he states, running a thick finger over a line on the map.
“I’m an outsider. I wanted to help,” you tell him. That makes his head
dart up again, and this time he pulls himself up to his full height to
address you. God, he must be nearly seven feet tall.
“Why?”
It’s a hard question to answer. So you’re honest. You think (hope)
that will get you further than lying.
“I was hoping I’d get something in return.”
He laughs for a split second, but seems to appreciate the honesty. He
gestures with a mighty hand round the camp.
“There’s plenty of places that need assistance. Go and make yourself
useful; we can talk once this shit is over.”
Make bombs – Turn to 26.6, Needs Chemistry.
Fix the guns – Turn to 26.7, Needs Engineering.
Ask why this is happening – Turn to 26.10.
Change your mind and refuse to help – Turn to 26.8.
Offer to infiltrate the enemy camp – Turn to 26.9.
26.3
You walk along the top of the hill, keeping low to the ground to
hopefully remain unseen, making space between you and the losing
camp. If you’re going to ally yourself with anyone, it might as well be
the side that seems to be winning.
You slide down the side of the steep hill and come to a stop at the
perimeter of the other camp. You’ve just got back to your feet from
the staggering steps you were taking, when suddenly you feel your
arms roughly clasped and shoved behind you.
“Hey!” you shout, trying to wrestle yourself away, but quickly see a
raider on either side of you. Their faces are dark, and that doesn’t
change as they march you forwards and into one of the tents.
It’s the biggest of the lot, and you see why. A hastily assembled
wartable has been put up in the middle of it and a woman with a
shock of red hair stands over it, discussing something with another
raider who then quickly hurries away. You’re thrown to the floor
and she stares at you.
“Found this one sneaking into the camp,” says one of the raiders
who brought you in. The woman rolls her eyes, and in a flash she’s
slid across the table and over to you. There’s a spear gripped in her
hand and the pointed end is placed directly at your throat. If you
breathe in too much, the blade will poke into the soft skin of your
neck and draw blood.
You are frightened and your eyes dart up to meet hers.
“I don’t have time for this. What do you want?” she asks.
“I’m not on their side! I’m just a traveller, look.”
You look down at your badge, which you see her observe with
cautious eyes. Her spear doesn’t move.
“So why have you come to my camp when I clearly have better
things to be doing? Or are you offering to help us?”
Her tone suggests you don’t have much time to answer before she
gets stabby.
Offer to help the wounded off the battlefield – Turn to 26.11, Needs
Survival.
Offer to help in the fight – Turn to 26.12, Needs Hand-to-Hand
Combat OR Dagger’s Dagger OR Hatchet.
Refuse to help – Turn to 26.8a.
Ask why this fight is happening – Turn to 26.10a.
26.4
There isn’t time for a second thought. People are dying in front of
you, and you’ll be damned if you aren’t going to help them. This is
what being a doctor is.
You skim down the side of the hill towards the battle, hoping no
more misfired bullets will catch you. The angle is steep, but you
manage to avoid tripping as you go, ending up at the edge of the
battlefield.
You run to the first injured soldier you can get to, but it’s too late;
this man is already dead. You curse, but are pulled out of it by the
sound of moaning. A woman has a bullet wound in her arm. You
hurry over to her, whipping out your medic pack, and dig the bullet
out of her shoulder. She screams in agony, but you don’t have time
to numb her pain. Soon enough, the offending piece of metal is out
and you’re bandaging her up. Immediately afterwards, you see a
young man clutching his hands desperately over a bloody eye and
you rush over to help.
For the most part, and maybe it’s a miracle, you’re left alone to do
your work. You get grazed by the odd bullet, but when people see
you tending to the wounded they don’t try to attack you. It might be
luck, or it might just be that it’s difficult to tell who’s on whose side
in the middle of the fray. Raiders don’t exactly have uniforms, after
all.
Soon, injured fighters are crawling over to you for your assistance.
Two raiders, from opposite sides, notice that they’re both going
towards you, and a fight breaks out between them.
You look up from where you’re roughly stitching a gash in a man’s
side to shout, “If you keep acting like that, neither of you is getting
any help!”
The warning works. The two soldiers glare at each other, but
otherwise leave each other alone.
You’re lost in your work, so you don’t even notice the battle dying
down around you. There must have been a winner while you were
otherwise occupied. People are beginning to come and collect their
wounded, confused but thankful to the strange individual who ran
down a cliff to help each side indiscriminately.
A woman walks over to you, her hand wrapped firmly around a
spear. She observes your work for a moment before saying, “My
boss wants to speak with you.”
Her words make you jump, but thankfully you’re only wrapping a
bandage at that moment. You look up at her. She doesn’t seem
angry, exactly, but the way she’s gripping her spear suggests she
doesn’t care if you come willingly.
Go with her – Turn to 26.13.
Politely decline and leave – Turn to 26.14.
26.5
You stand on the hill for a while and continue to watch. At first, it
seems one side has the upper hand, and then suddenly the tide will
turn and the other will appear to be pushing them back. It seems
relatively evenly matched, but after a while of observing you can
definitely tell the side furthest away from you is winning. Their
fighters are vicious, hacking away at their enemies with rage, and
their sharpshooters are a better aim. It looks like if you want to ally
yourself with someone, you know who it should be.
It’s strange, you’re watching people fall and die every minute or so,
but the blood doesn’t bother you as much as it once did. If you came
here at the start of your journey, you’d have been horrified,
sickened. But now? Well, you know how this land is. Bloodshed is
the norm.
You’re not sure if you like the way you’ve changed. You may have
become accustomed to the violence, but you can’t be sure if that’s a
good thing.
Go and side with the nearest camp that seems to be losing – Turn to
26.2.
Go and side with the camp further away, which seems to be winning
– Turn to 26.3.
26.6
“Ican probably build bombs,” you say, thinking about the contents of
your pack. The man lights up.
“Well, colour me impressed. Get over there and help Hamish, then.”
He points to a tent that you’re pretty sure you can smell burning
from. You take his instructions and wander through the door.
The tent is densely packed with various old bottles of chemicals and
boxes of random items the raiders clearly thought would be helpful.
A lot of this appears to be junk, but a lot of it could be useful,
depending on how much skill the mixer had. There’s a couple of
work surfaces in the middle of the makeshift room, and a man is
desperately combining liquids into a bottle. He looks up at you,
confused.
“I’m here to help,” you tell him, dumping your pack on the floor and
getting to work.
The man sees your skilled fingers dancing over the different
ingredients and decides not to interrupt you. You make a few
different things – small containers of bleach and ammonia to throw
together and make a toxic gas, a couple of Molotovs from whatever
flammable liquid you can find. Pretty clever solutions, given your
limited resources. You almost feel proud of yourself.
You’re working so hard you don’t hear the shouts outside. In fact
you only notice that the battle has been lost when soldiers barge
into the tent with their weapons drawn.
“Drop it!” shouts one, pointing his machete at what’s in your hand.
Your eyes go wide and your heart skips a beat. What you’re holding
is an explosive, but he clearly doesn’t know that.
Fight him – Turn to 26.16.
Drop the bomb – Turn to 26.17.
26.7
“I’m an engineer,” you tell him. “Do you have anything that needs
fixing?”
“There are some broken guns over there, see if you can get them
working,” he tells you. You nod and run to where he’s pointing.
You were expecting him to mean a tent, but as you approach the
area you see there’s just a pile of guns thrown haphazardly on the
floor. They’re of all shapes and sizes, clearly scavenged from all over.
You’re about to inspect everything closer when a soldier comes up
towards you, hitting the butt of their gun desperately trying to get it
to fire, before realising it’s a lost cause and dropping the weapon
with the rest. They head deeper into the camp, you guess to try to
find another one to use.
You get to your knees and pick up their gun first. With a few expert
movements, it comes apart in your hands and you quickly find the
cause of the problem – a broken shell caught in the chamber.
You reach for your toolkit and use a screwdriver to dig it out before
putting it back together and reloading.
The soldier from before reappears, looking anguished. You shove
the gun back into his hands.
“There,” you tell him, “it should work now.”
He narrows his eyes at you but takes the gun anyway, aiming it to
the distance and firing. His face lights up when a bullet flies out. He
doesn’t thank you, not verbally, but he does clap you on the shoulder
before he goes back to join the others.
You immerse yourself in your work, fixing up the rest of the guns in
the pile. They’re all pretty simple fixes, if you know what to look for.
Sometimes they’re just jammed, some of them weren’t put together
properly in the first place, and you’re always getting the gunners
dropping broken weapons back at your feet – thankfully, you can
always place a new one in their hands and send them back out to
battle.
Soon, the regularity of soldiers needing new guns slows. You look
towards the battlefield. It’s amazing, but it seems like your side has
not only taken the advantage, but they’re pushing the others back.
Prisoners are being marched in from the battlefield. They spit and
scream and try to break free, but with guns pointed into their backs
– your guns – they have no chance of getting away cleanly.
You fix what’s left until you have nothing more to work on. The
shouts of battle have dampened down into nothing, now. You get to
your feet and stretch, looking on in surprise as the huge man in
charge comes over to you.
“Well done,” he tells you, clapping a hand on your shoulder and
making you stagger under its weight, “you might have helped us
turn the tide, my friend. Anything you want is yours.”
He shows you over to where the prisoners are being stripped of
anything valuable. They all glare at you as you approach, your outfit
singling you out as the reason their side lost, a rogue agent who
chose the opposite side. There isn’t much there, but you take your
prize out of the meagre pickings that there are, the thing you hope
will be of most value to you in the future.
The giant man thanks you once again before going back to busy
himself with his victory. It seems you’re pretty much being left to
your own devices. You spend a while longer observing the camp
before you take your leave, wondering if you’ve done the right thing
today.
Wondering if there was even a right thing to do.
END.
Add Compassion, Instability, Cruelty, OR Resolve to your
character sheet.
Add Jewellery (O.17) OR Hatchet (O.4) to your inventory.
Add The Aftermath (Chapter 27, L.27) to map.
Go to The Aftermath (Chapter 27).
26.8
Suddenly, you feel your mouth go dry. What are you doing?
Offering to get involved in a fight – between raiders, no less, a fight
where you could get injured or die? Putting your life on the line
before you find your group?
It’s a stupid idea. You shouldn’t be in this position.
The man sees you freeze up and works out what has happened.
He shakes his head before fury comes over his face, and in two giant
strides he’s on you. A huge fist finds its way to your stomach and
you’re doubled over in pain before he brings another punch down
on your now-exposed back. You fall to the floor, hearing cries of pain
and only dimly realising they’re yours.
You hear him shout to a couple of free soldiers, and you soon find
yourself being dragged out of the camp. You feel sick rising up your
gullet and see stars in your eyes from the blunt force trauma, and it’s
almost a blessing when the raiders throw you to the ground a good
hundred feet behind their camp, leaving you in a painful heap.
All things considered, it’s not the worst outcome. They could have
killed you.
You take a moment to let the world stop spinning before you get to
your feet. It’s impossible to see what state the battle is in now,
who’s winning or losing, but at least you’re safe and free.

With wobbling footsteps, you begin to leave the battlefield. You
don’t want to stick around to face whoever wins, you decide. It’s
best to come back here when the battle is over.
If you want to come back here at all…
END.
26.8A
“Are you here to help us?” she reiterates.
Suddenly, you feel your mouth go dry. What are you
doing? Offering to get involved in a fight, between raiders no less, a
fight where you could get injured or die? Putting your life on the
line before you find your group?
It’s a stupid idea. You shouldn’t be in this position.
The woman rolls her eyes. With a quick movement of her hand, her
spear is turned around and she slams the shaft into your head.
You black out from the pain.
When you finally come round, you’re being dragged out of the camp.
In fact, you’re a good hundred feet away from the closest tent.
You feel yourself being dropped by the guards who were carrying
you – the same ones who brought you in – before one of them kicks
you hard in the stomach. You gag with pain and watch them leave.
Though you’re in terrible pain, it’s not the worst they could have
done. In fact, she was probably being merciful to leave you in gut-
wrenching agony rather than running you through. Maybe you
weren’t worth the trouble.
You take a moment so the world stops spinning before you get to
your feet. It’s impossible to see what state the battle is in now, who’s
winning or losing, but at least you’re out of it.
With wobbling footsteps, you begin to leave. You don’t want to stick
around to face whoever wins, you decide. You can’t imagine either
side would be happy to see you. It’s best to come back here when the
battle is over.
If you want to come back here at all…
END.
26.9
“Icould sneak into the other camp for you and report back. I don’t
look like one of your soldiers; they might not even realise that
anything’s wrong.”
The huge man mulls it over before nodding, catching onto the idea.
“Aye, that could work. It’ll be dangerous, though.”
Yes, you imagined it might be. You can’t imagine they’d welcome you
strolling into their camp with open arms. As you’re about to
continue, a look dawns on his face as if he’s just had a brilliant idea.
“In fact… you could go and try and find the blueprints she’s hiding.
That’s what this whole thing is about, anyway.”
He brushes off the ash that’s collected on the top of his wartable and
points at the other side of the map. Crudely drawn tents have been
illustrated over the top, and from what you can see they roughly
match what’s been made behind enemy lines.
“They’re probably in this tent here. If you can go and get the
blueprints for the war machine she’s hiding, and bring them back
here, this fight will be pretty much over. We can retreat without any
more damage and we’ll have got what we came here for.”
He crosses his arms and looks at you.
“Are you up for it?”
Well, you suppose if stealing them will help end all this fighting
quicker, there’s no way you can’t do it. You nod and the man beams
at you.
You’re given instructions as to what tent the bounty is probably in
and told he’ll send the order to advance, to try to draw the guards in
the camp away. Then, you’re wished luck and sent onwards.
You decide to go back up the hill and approach the enemy camp
from the back. It’s easier said than done, though; you have to go back
quite some distance in order to stay hidden from the battlefield.
The last thing you want is an enemy sniper to see you and pick you
off. That means the hill is steeper and in some parts, you’re climbing
rather than walking, the front of your coat picking up grass stains
and muddy imprints as you go. You sigh but also consider that’s
probably not the worst thing that’s been on it.
At the top of the hill, you drop to your stomach and crawl along the
crest. You have to go by sound to work out when you’re passing the
battle itself – you don’t want to stick your head up to survey and
make yourself a target. You keep your ears peeled and listen to the
fighting get louder as you pass the field, and then quieter again as
you continue towards the enemy campsite. Soon, the noise has died
down enough that you’re pretty sure you’re past the worst of it, so
you risk checking over the hill – the enemy camp is about a hundred
metres away. Deciding you’ve spent enough time getting there, you
tuck in your arms and roll down to the bottom.
It’s disorientating, but gets you where you need to be quickly.
Then, you’re back to crawling through the grass.
You’re lucky. It seems that the man’s word was good and you hear a
roar come from the battlefield. Any soldiers who were
guarding the camp snatch up their weapons and run towards the
fighting. You get into the camp unseen.
You head for the tent the big man instructed and sneak through the
heavy hessian door flap. It’s hard to see inside, the thick fabric
obscuring the daylight, but you can see the only thing here is a
rolled-up scroll of paper on a table. You unfurl it and look.
It’s the blueprints all right, for some sort of flying war machine. It
looks confusing, but this must be what the warlord is after. You’re
about to tuck them into your pack and pelt it out of there when you
falter for a moment.
Would giving these to another raider really solve any problems?
Sure, this particular battle might stop but raiders are raiders –
they’ll use this technology to inflict terror on the locals. You could
take them away and hold onto them until you find your group again,
putting them in safer hands. Or, you could destroy them right now
and run away.
Read them – Turn to 26.18, Needs Old World Language.
Read them – Turn to 26.18a, Needs Balloon Encounter.
Take them back to the man – Turn to 26.19.
Destroy them – Turn to 26.20.
Take them to your group – Turn to 26.23.
26.10
The man grimaces as you hear a terrible shriek from the battlefield.
One of the sharpshooters falls back, blood bursting forth from their
eye. You grimace and turn away.
There’s nothing that you can do for them.
“She’s been pissing us off for some time. This wasn’t meant to be a
fight, though. We were trying to bargain with her. She has some
blueprints for a war machine we want. Tried to trade for them. She
laughed in our faces. Somebody fired a bullet, and suddenly we’re
here.”
You look over to the battlefield and wonder how a negotiation could
have gone so horribly wrong. Then again, you suppose raiders are
always volatile. But what’s really captured your attention is this war
machine. What does he mean? And is it something that any raiders
should really have their hands on?
Just as you think you’ve solved one mystery, the Old World turns
around and throws another into your lap.
You suddenly notice the man is staring at you.
“So?” he asks. “Are you going to pitch in, or waste more of my time?”
Make bombs – Turn to 26.6, Needs Chemistry.

Fix the guns – Turn to 26.7, Needs Engineering.
Change your mind and refuse to help – Turn to 26.8.
Offer to infiltrate the enemy camp – Turn to 26.9.
26.10A
The woman rolls her eyes and flicks her wild locks back over one
shoulder. You wonder for a moment if she’s going to answer, but you
quickly realise she wants you out of her hair and the best way to do
that is to just answer you.
“We have some blueprints they want. They wanted to trade for them
but didn’t have anything valuable enough so I told them to fuck off.
Someone fired, things turned ugly. We’re going to crush him
anyway, but if you want to go help, be my guest.”
Her spear doesn’t move from your throat and she stares at you,
waiting for an answer to her question. You’ve already tested her
patience long enough. It’s time to make a decision one way or the
other.
Offer to help the wounded off the battlefield – Turn to 26.11, Needs
Survival.
Offer to help in the fight – Turn to 26.12, Needs Hand-to-Hand
Combat OR Dagger’s Dagger OR Hatchet.
Refuse to help – Turn to 26.8a.
26.11
“Let me help bring the wounded back,” you say. “I’m
stronger than I look.”
That seems to appease the woman; she lowers the spear tip from
your throat, then cocks her head towards the door of her tent.
“Go.”
You scramble to your feet and run towards the battlefield. You
breach the line of sharpshooters they have set up and pick up the
first injured soldier you can see from the grass. He’s far enough
away from the fighting that it’s easy to bring him back to base,
though you have to watch that you don’t get clipped by any bullets.
Other raiders come and pick him up when you’ve brought him back,
hurrying him into a tent that you guess is for injured fighters.
For the rest of the battle, that’s what you do. Hurry to the battlefield,
haul the wounded onto your shoulders, and lug them back behind
allied lines.
You’re not sure how long this goes on for, but soon you hear cheers
coming from the battlefield – from your side. Raiders smile at each
other and put their weapons away. The others – the enemy
side, you assume – get to their knees and slowly put their hands on
their heads.
It looks like your side has won.
Honestly, you didn’t really consider this option; you were too busy
trying to get people to safety. But as you take your last casualty back
– a mewling boy, no older than a teenager – it seems the raiders are
taking prisoners and celebrating their victory.
You see the red-haired woman surveying the scene with approval.
She looks at you and nods.
“Well done,” is all you’re given. You want to ask about a reward, but
soon she’s swept off to look at the state of her army.
You’re left on your own. Things could be worse, you suppose. At
least you saved some lives today.
END.
26.12
“Let me fight,” you say. The woman grins and lowers her weapon.
“That’s what I like to hear,” she tells you as you get to your feet. You
go for your pack to get a weapon, but she throws you the machete
hanging at her waist. You catch it in mid-air – thankfully not
severing a finger – and give it an experimental swing. It’s a much
better weight than anything you have with you.
You leave the tent and head towards the battlefield. There are a few
gunners lined up behind the main battle, taking shots where they
can get them, and one of them looks up at you with curiosity.
You barely notice them.
Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears as you walk, then jog, then
run towards the fight. You see two raiders in an altercation. The
enemy has a woman pinned and is about to run a knife through her
throat, but you step in and swing – the knife goes flying away, his
hand with it. He doesn’t even have time to grab the bloody stump
and scream before your blade takes a chunk off the top of his head.
His body falls to its knees, and then the floor, a spray of blood
misting the air over you and his potential victim.
You don’t help her get up. Instead you move on to the next raider
who needs to be cut down.
You lose yourself in it. The carnage. It’s so easy to just mow people
down. A swing there, and you take out a leg. A punch here, and
someone’s doubled over enough to decapitate. Soon, the opposite
side must realise what a threat you are because bullets are flying
towards you; you feel at least one hit your arm, but the adrenaline
pushes the pain away.
Before long, you become aware of the fighting dying down around
you. The other side are surrendering. Your allies are cheering in
victory.
You’ve won.
You pause, breathing heavily, aware that blood is dripping off of you
and very little of it is your own.
You jump when you feel a hand clapped on your back. It’s the
woman with the red hair. She takes the machete from you and
smiles for the first time.
“Well done,” she tells you, before going off to survey the victory
you’ve helped her win. You want to ask her about rewards, but
guess that probably won’t happen.
You’re not that bothered, you suppose. At least the battle is over
now.
People congratulate and cheer you as you walk away from the
battlefield. Apparently you were seen more than you thought,
because the raiders appear to be impressed. You don’t acknowledge
any of them. You think it’s just best to leave.
You need a bit of a break.
END.
Add Compassion, Instability, Cruelty, OR Resolve to your character

sheet.
26.13
You stand and let the woman guide you to one of collections of tents.
She hurries you inside, and you’re met with a wartable that’s been
quickly constructed; a red-headed woman speaks to a soldier on the
other side of it. She dismisses him and looks at you with a level gaze,
and the raider who escorted you in lifts her spear up to aim at you.
“You were the medic in the field?” she asks. You get the sense she
probably knows the answer.
“I was.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m just a traveller.”
“Why were you helping both sides?”
Ah, yes. That’s a little bit more difficult to answer, you think. The
woman stares at you, impatience in her eyes, clearly waiting for an
answer.
“I have no side” – Turn to 26.21.
“Because it was the right thing to do” – Turn to 26.22.
26.14
“No, I’m all right, thank you.”
The woman looks taken aback as you get to your feet. You don’t
want to fight her, but you don’t want to come with her, either –
having to answer to some raider who probably won’t be too happy
that you chose to assist both sides in what was clearly a turf war is
not your idea of fun.
She doesn’t really know what to say, her mouth floundering for a
moment. You smile at her cheerfully before turning on your heel and
leaving the site of the battle. She doesn’t come after you, so you
suppose whoever sent her wasn’t really that bothered about having
you answer for your actions. You’re not sure what you would have
said, anyway. You don’t think raiders will take kindly to the answer
that you wanted to help everyone, regardless of what side they were
on.
You walk away from the battlefield without looking back, but with a
sense of pride that you probably saved quite a few lives today.
Even if they were raider lives.
END.

26.15
You spend a while longer looking out onto the battlefield, watching
the blood being spilled and lives being taken.
People fall to the ground like clockwork. How easy it is, you think, to
take a life. This is the most death you’ve ever witnessed, and you
don’t think you can stomach it any more.
You turn away and leave the hill. The sounds of the battle echo
loudly behind you; in fact, they seem to get louder, as if they don’t
want you to forget that they’re there.
You still carry the weight of it on your shoulders. You don’t turn
back. Instead you head out into the plains before you, desperate to
get away from the fighting.
There’s nothing you could do anyway, you tell yourself.
You’re not entirely sure if that’s true, or just a comforting lie.
Eventually, far too long afterwards, the sounds of the battle fade.
You keep walking.
END.
26.16
You carefully place the bomb down on the table, acting like you’re
complying with their commands, before launching yourself towards
the door. One of the enemy raiders shouts in surprise, but doesn’t
expect you to barrel into him and knock him off his feet. His machete
comes down and scrapes your shoulder, definitely drawing blood,
but with him down there’s a clear enough path for you to run out
into the open.
Neither of the soldiers follow you, but you do hear screams. It’s with
a sick feeling you realise that Hamish, the other man working in the
tent, wasn’t as lucky as you were.
All through the camp, people are being slaughtered. It looks like the
enemy forces overpowered the side you allied with (wrongly, you
think darkly). Surprised raiders get struck down with bullets and
knives, dropping like flies around you. All you can do is push
onwards, keep running to try to put some distance between you and
the bloodshed. A bullet whizzes by you, centimetres from your ear,
and you curse.
You keep going, running past the tents and out into the field. You
hear a couple more gunshots after you but don’t slow down,
continuing to run until your legs feel on fire. You know you won’t be
safe until you can no longer hear the sounds of fighting.
You don’t know how long you go for. You only slow down when
you’re absolutely certain you can no longer hear gunfire or death.
You collapse into the grass and catch your breath.
Pain flares through your arm suddenly. The adrenaline is wearing
off, and the wound you got earlier from the blade to the shoulder is
beginning to make itself known.
You peel off your coat and inspect the gash. It’s not deep, but it is
long, and blood is trickling from it nastily. You sigh and spend some
time cleaning it out before wrapping it up in whatever you can
scavenge from your pack to use as bandages. It still smarts, but you
seem to have staved off the worst of it.
You lie back and feel the throb of the wound along with your
heartbeat. It’s going to be an uncomfortable night of camp, you
think.
END.
26.17
Your eyes dart to the canister in your hand. They clearly don’t know
what it is. You look to them and smile, and the soldiers’ eyes go
wide.
Everything happens quite quickly after that.
You throw the bomb towards the raiders and as you do, you dart
backwards. You roll over the table that’s been set up and grab the
side as you go, flipping it over so it acts as a shield when you land.
You try to call out to Hamish to join you, but there isn’t enough time.
The explosion is almost deafening. You see Hamish shredded by the
blast and have to shield your eyes against the flash of light that
comes with it. The table is blown backwards into you, and slams you
hard enough to leave a few large bruises – at least it stops you from
being killed.
The smoke is thick in the air. You bring your neckline over your
mouth to act as a breathing guard and clench your eyes shut to stop
them stinging. You put your hands out in front of you and feel
around, looking for the edge of the tent. You put your hand in
something wet, and you’re not sure if it’s an exploded carton of
liquid or it’s what’s left of Hamish. You don’t risk opening your eyes
to find out.
Getting out of the tent is a long process, the smoke finding its way
into your nose even though you try to block it out as best you can.
Eventually, your wandering hands find the fabric of the tent and you
haul it up, crawling out into the fresh air.
You choke as you expel the last of the smoke from your system, but
don’t have time to stop. It looks like the camp has been overrun with
enemy forces. Someone sees you and shouts, but you scrabble to
your feet and run as fast as you can. It’s hard work, and your chest
still stings, but you don’t stop until you can no longer hear the
sounds of fighting, nor the bullets whizzing past your ears. You
allow yourself to collapse in exhaustion when the only sounds
around are your own hurried pants for breath.
You got out. That’s what matters.
Your breathing goes back to normal, but the scene plays over and
over when you close your eyes. Hamish being cut into chunks by the
blast in front of you. After a little while, it stops being a horrid event
and just becomes another gruesome memory.
END.
26.18
You unravel the scroll and hold it up to the light filtering in through
the tent door flap, squinting to read the squashed annotations
written around the blueprints. Your initial guesswork was correct.
It’s the instructions for how to build and maintain a huge balloon,
powered by fire. If it works, which everything in the plans suggest
that it will, then it could be a very dangerous thing to have around.
You could take them for yourself or destroy them. But then again,
you did say that you would take them back to the other raider camp,
and there might be a nice reward for you if you do. Is it worth it?
You chew your lip as you decide, but you can tell from the noise
outside that you need to make a decision quickly.
Take them back to the other camp – Turn to 26.19.
Take them for yourself – Turn to 26.23.
26.18A
With a dawning horror, you realise you don’t only
recognise the blueprint, you recognise the actual machine as well.
You’ve seen this in another raider camp – and you know that it
works. If either side manages to build one of these, they’ll have
dominance of the air. Who knows how much chaos they would rain
down on innocent people, just trying to live their lives?
You could take them for yourself, or destroy them. Either of those
options might be the right thing to do, to keep them out of raider
hands. But then again, you did say that you would take them back to
the other raider camp, and there might be a nice reward for you if
you do. Is it worth it? You chew your lip as you decide, but you know
from the noise outside that you need to make a decision quickly.
Take them back to the other camp – Turn to 26.19.
Take them for yourself – Turn to 26.23.
26.19
You said you’d take these prints back to the raider camp, so that’s
what you’ll do. You tuck them deep in your pack and head out the
way you came.
You get back to the man’s camp by reversing the route you came,
climbing the hill and crawling past the battlefield. A bullet whizzes
over your head and you’re not sure if it’s because a gunman saw you
or if it was just a stray. You don’t want to stick around to find out, so
you increase your speed, the buttons on your coat digging up clumps
of grass in your haste.
You get back to the camp in far less time than it took you to get to
the other side. The soldiers must have been told you were coming,
because nobody stops you as you traverse the now bootprint-
muddied ground and go back to the tent.
The boss grins when he sees you and takes the blueprints from you
greedily, scanning them over and clapping a huge hand on your back
in congratulations.
“Well done, friend. You’ve done us a great service today. Help
yourself to whatever you want from the box over there.” He gestures
to where a huge box lies in the corner of the room, partially open
and
glistening on the inside. “What they didn’t want when we tried to

negotiate for these. Well, look who’s laughing now…”
He chuckles to himself as you open the lid. Inside is tons of
jewellery, slightly dirty but still valuable gold. You don’t have much
need for it, and neither will anyone who you come across, you
suspect – but you dip your hand in and take a palmful out, tucking it
into your pack.
“Does this mean you’ll stop the fighting?” you ask. The man seems to
remember you’re there and turns to you. You don’t like the smile on
his face.
“We’ll see,” he replies, going back to the blueprints.
You feel a bit unsettled at his answer but don’t push it. Instead, you
excuse yourself. He doesn’t seem to care where you go now he’s got
what he came for. You don’t look back as you scurry out of the tent,
leaving the camp and trying not to look back. You hope you’ve done
the right thing, but you don’t want to stick around to see what
happens next.
END.
Add Jewellery (O.17) to your inventory.
26.20
You fold the blueprints in half and rip them, then do the same again.
Each time you make the pieces smaller and smaller.
You hope this is the only copy that they have. Even if it isn’t, it
means there’s one less of them in the world, so you know that you’re
doing a good thing.
Keeping raiders out of the sky can’t be a bad idea.
When the blueprints are in tiny shreds, you shove them into your
pockets and bolt out of the tent. Luckily, the guards haven’t come
back from the battlefield yet so you can flee without anyone noticing
or firing after you. You don’t let up your pace. Instead, you keep on
running until you can no longer hear the sounds of battle behind
you.
That night, when you make camp, you throw the leftover shreds
onto your fire and watch them crinkle and burn. The ash swirls in
the air and you know without a doubt that you’ve done the right
thing.
END.
26.21
The woman rolls her eyes at your answer, clearly unimpressed.
“So you thought you’d get involved in a turf war for what?
Fun?”
“No. I honestly just wanted to help.”
It’s as she’s taking you in that she spots the badge on your coat, the
insignia marking you as an outsider. Her breath jumps in her throat
in what you assume to be some sort of half-hearted laugh.
“I see. You’re one of those. ”
She gives a flippant gesture to her guard and they remove the spear
that’s been aimed at your spine. You let out a breath you didn’t
know you were holding.
“There’s no place for you here, outsider. You’d be wise to remember
that next time. Leave here, and don’t come back.”
You turn around and walk quickly away from her tent. You’re
shaken, yes, but unscathed – you can’t help but think that someone
is looking out for you. You touch your badge and thank the stars
quietly as you leave.
END.
26.22
The woman snorts at your answer. Her mirth sends a shiver down
your back.
“The ‘right thing’ is a myth. You’re a fool if you believe in it.”
She takes a long moment to study you before sighing.
“But you did help my people, and for that I’m thankful. I’ll let you go.
This time.”
She gives a flippant gesture to her guard and they remove the spear
that’s been aimed at your spine. You let out a breath you didn’t
know you were holding.
“There’s no place for you here, outsider. You’d be wise to remember
that next time. Leave here and don’t come back.”
You turn around and walk quickly away from her tent. You’re
shaken, yes, but unscathed – you can’t help but think that someone
is looking out for you. You touch your badge and thank the stars
quietly as you leave.
END.
26.23
You shove the blueprints into your pack and run. Luckily, the guards
haven’t returned to their posts outside of the tent, so you aren’t
pursued or called to stop. You don’t slow down until you’re far away
from the camp and you can no longer hear the fighting. Even then,
you push on for a couple more miles just to make sure there’s as
much distance as possible.
When you build your camp that night – a small fire, tucked away in a
thicket of trees – you take the plans out and study them once again.
This machine really does look dangerous, but if you get it into the
hands of your group maybe it can be used for good. You could cover
far more land for exploration if you were flying, and you wouldn’t
have to deal with all the troublemakers on the ground either.
You feel proud of yourself and fall asleep that night dreaming of
flying amongst the stars.
END.
Add Balloon Blueprints (O.8) to your inventory.
CHAPTER 27
THE AFTERMATH
27.1
The battlefield is quiet now. Still. Well, stiller than when there were
hundreds of people warring on it. All that’s left are corpses, their
skin pallid as they decay, abandoned where they fell, as nobody
bothered to clear this place when the fight was done. There are also
those pilfering from them.
A few of the scavengers raise their heads as you wander onto the
empty battlefield. They don’t bother locking eyes with you. When
they see you’re dressed neither as a raider nor as a member of their
group, they ignore you and get on with their work, turning over
bodies to rifle through their pockets.
It seems a little bit… cruel. Disrespectful, really. You know the dead
are all raiders, and it’s likely they didn’t cause these people anything
but trouble, but you still feel uncomfortable knowing they’re just
using their bodies as loot bags. They were people, after all. They
deserve some sort of proper burial.
Then again, you suppose, they were probably bad people. Isn’t it
worth stripping them of anything useful, now that they’re dead? It’s
not like they’re going to need it now.
You sigh and look around. A bird is perched on one of the corpses.
You stare into its beady, black eyes before it takes flight.
Look through the corpses – Turn to 27.2.

Look for survivors – Turn to 27.3.
Talk to the scavengers – Turn to 27.4.
27.2
There are enough bodies on this battlefield that you can look
without causing the other scavengers any trouble. You squat down
next to the nearest body and begin to rummage through whatever
pockets they have – one on each trouser leg, and a few on a
waistcoat he had strapped on. It’s an awkward thing to do; you have
to manoeuvre his body to access his front pockets. His body is heavy
and flops around as you move him.
When he’s on his back, you get a good look at his face. He’s young,
only about seventeen. His wide eyes are looking blankly into the sky.
Before you go through his belongings, you shut them. It’s the least
you can do. You can’t help but be struck with the strangeness of how
small and young he is, and yet how much he weighs.
There’s nothing in his pockets but lint, unfortunately. Looks like he’s
already been stripped of anything valuable. You leave his body and
go on to the next one.
You get through about seven people before you find anything.
You feel a bit bad as you go, almost like you’re desecrating their
bodies, but each time you leave them as neatly as you can and shut
their eyes. It’s something, you suppose. Something to make them

seem more peaceful.
A woman has a belt, a thick leather thing with a built-in pocket. It
was hidden in her skirts when she fell on the battlefield. You try not
to look at the bullet holes in her upper torso and instead concentrate
on what loot she has.
There’s a piece of paper wrapped around a small capsule.
There’s something scribbled on the paper in the Old World’s
language.
Read the note – Turn to 27.5, Needs Old World Language.
Identify the device – Turn to 27.6, Needs Chemistry.
Ask for help to identify the items – Turn to 27.7.
Lay all the bodies you can to rest – Turn to 27.8.
27.3
You head towards one of the bodies and turn it over. From the
unresponsive weight in your arms, you know this person is dead.
You’re met with the face of a young woman, about twenty. Her pale
blue eyes stare blankly into the cloudless sky, her mouth hanging
open a little. You know it will be fruitless, but you place two fingers
over her neck to try to find a pulse.
Nothing.
You set her down and close her eyes. You move on to the next body,
but you know even before you get there that you’ll have the same
result. Nobody here who took part in the fight is alive.
Well, except for you.
You stop after the third body. It’s too difficult to keep going when
you know what you’ll find.
You look around this sea of death.
Look through the pockets of the corpses – Turn to 27.2.
Lay all the bodies you can to rest – Turn to 27.8.
27.4
You cross over towards the scavengers. They stop what
they’re doing as you approach, a couple of hushed words being
hissed before they turn to look at you with unfriendly eyes.
“Hello,” you say, lamely. There’s a woman towards the front of the
group, older than the rest of them, grey hair hanging down in
clumped locks. You assume she’s the leader; at least, she’s the one
who answers you.
“What do you want?”
No time for pleasantries, you suppose. They clearly want you to cut
straight to the point.
But then again, what is it you actually want to say? You wish you’d
planned this better as you were approaching. Now you’re met with
at least seven icy stares and nothing to say.
Ask what they’re looking for – Turn to 27.9.
Ask if you can search the bodies – Turn to 27.10.
Tell them they’re being disrespectful to the dead – Turn to 27.11,
Needs Compassion >/=3.
27.5
The note is scribbled and difficult to read. You have to hold it close
to your face and try to make out each word individually before you
can string them all into a sentence.
It seems it’s a warning about a nearby raider base. You read it over
again, but surprisingly it doesn’t seem to be about either of the sides
that were in the battle that day. It’s a warning about a different
group, one whose leader is exceedingly dangerous, and only to deal
with her if it’s a last resort.
You consider these words. It’s almost like they were written for you.
The longer you spend in this place, the more it feels like anything
might be your last resort, any way to find your group. You wonder if
you’ll pay this base a visit.
You leave before the scavengers take too much notice of you. It’s
best to keep this to yourself.
END.
Add The Base/The Offer (Chapter 18, L.18) to map.
27.6
You crack open the little cylinder in your hands. It’s brittle now,
roughed up during the fight, and puts up little resistance to your
firm tugs. Powder spills onto the ground in a little heap. You touch it
and bring some up to your eyes on your fingertip.
And then you realise it’s some sort of gunpowder.
This is a bomb.
You’d panic, but clearly the device is dead. There’s no harm to be
had from it now, except maybe from cutting your finger along its
jagged edge.
Then the thought occurs to you: this device is dead, but that isn’t to
say that there aren’t other ones scattered around the field. Other
ones that are live.
Leave now – Turn to 27.12.
Look for more bombs and try to disarm them – Turn to 27.13.
27.7
You call out to the scavengers who all stare at you, clearly irritated
that their work has been interrupted. They seem guarded as you
approach – though they don’t seem to have any weapons, you see
them square up as if ready to fight. You raise your hands in the
universal sign that you don’t mean trouble.
“I was just wondering if you could tell me what these are?” you ask
them.
A younger woman steps forward and brushes her wild brown hair
from her eyes so she can look at the items you’re presenting before
she turns back to her group and mutters something at them. The
oldest woman there, probably the leader, nods to her and she turns
back to you.
“All right. But it’ll cost you.”
It’s not like you have much on you, but you suppose you could offer
what you have, if you’re that bothered.
Offer an item from your pack – Turn to 27.14.
Offer to help with anything they can’t identify – Turn to 27.15,
Needs
Knowledge.
27.8
At the very least, these people deserve to have their bodies treated
with respect. They might not have been good people when they
were alive, but they were still people.
You tuck your hands under the armpits of the nearest body and pull
it to lie next to another. In an ideal world, you’d carry them, but in
death the bodies are heavy and difficult to move, so this will have to
do for now. You lay the raider down and close their eyes so they
look a little more peaceful before moving on to the next one.
The work is long and gruelling. There are dozens of corpses splayed
on the battlefield, and getting them all together takes time.
You notice out of the corner of your eye the scavengers are watching
you work. You don’t have time to justify yourself to them, so you just
keep going.
Then, something strange happens. The next time you look up, a
couple of the more able-bodied scavengers have joined in, hefting
bodies between them and bringing them to where the others lie. One
of the scavengers catches your eye and nods as if he understands
why you’re doing what you’re doing.
It takes you until the evening to gather all the bodies. They still
cover quite a large area, but at least the rest of the field is clean and
they look at peace, laid out with their eyes shut. You say a prayer to
whatever gods are listening in this old land and hope something like
this doesn’t happen again – but you know it will.
The man from before comes to stand next to you. You look over the
sea of death in silence before you ask, “Should we burn them?”
He shakes his head. “No, it might attract attention from one of the
raider groups round here.”
“But won’t they know it’s a funeral pyre?”
“Oh, not either of them. One of the other ones. A couple of miles east,
there’s another warlord. She’s trouble. You don’t want to let her
know you’re here.”
You nod, taking in that information. Another warlord doesn’t sound
particularly safe, but then again anywhere could be a good source of
information about your group at this point. You make a mental note
as the two of you stand for a bit longer before going your separate
ways. The bodies lie still in the setting sun.
END.
Add Compassion, Instability, OR Resolve to your character sheet.
27.9
“Anything of value,” the woman spits back. She doesn’t seem to want
to disclose what, exactly, that applies to.
Then again, she doesn’t have any real reason to trust
you.
The awkward, silent staring continues. One of the group shifts as if
he’s incredibly uncomfortable with the whole thing. You understand
why.
Ask if you can look through the bodies – Turn to 27.10.
27.10
The woman with the grey hair isn’t happy about your
question, you can tell from the way her wrinkled mouth twists into a
thin line. She shrugs.
“I can’t stop you any more than you can stop us. Check anything you
want.”
You guess she’s probably more open to the idea because they’ve
investigated most of the bodies already. Still, you thank her and
head away, towards the bodies on the other side of the field, ready
to start looking for valuables.
Turn to 27.2.
27.11
“What are you doing?” you shout. The scavengers
look up at you. One of them is holding a corpse by
its armpits as the others rifle through whatever pockets there are.
“What does it look like?” snaps the oldest member of the group, a
woman with matted grey hair.
“It looks like you’re disrespecting the dead. What right do you have
to go through their things?”
The woman throws her head back and laughs, revealing a mouth full
of yellow, rotting teeth.
“As you said, they’re dead. Why does it matter?”
“Because they were people once! Living, breathing people. And now
you’re acting like they’re just treasure chests!”
“They were raiders.”
“Raiders are still people!”
You don’t seem to be making much headway with this woman, but a
couple of her lackeys are looking uncomfortable, avoiding your gaze.
You sigh. You can’t stop them from doing anything, but hopefully
you made a couple of them think about their actions.
“Fuck off before I come over there and make you fuck off.”
You take her warning, turning to leave. You get about two minutes
away before you hear footsteps coming after you. You brace yourself
for an attack and spin round only to see one of the guilty-looking
scavengers approaching you cautiously.
“Look. We do what we have to do to survive,” he tells you. It’s odd he
came all this way just to justify himself. Perhaps your words really
got to him.
“That doesn’t make it right,” you reply. He sighs and nods.
“No. Just… look, there are people a lot worse than us, all right?”
“Like raiders?”
“Well…” it’s clear that’s what he means but doesn’t say it. He sighs.
“Be careful when you go, all right? There’s a raider base a couple of
miles east of here. The people there… well, let’s just say if you meet
them, you’ll see why we’re the good guys.”
He leaves before you can reply.
END.
27.12
It’s time to leave, you think. Seeing the battlefield was bad enough
the first time. You don’t want to hang around and look at all the
dried blood you saw when it was fresh, spraying from open wounds
and dying victims.
As you take your leave, you hear words on the wind. The scavengers
are talking about another raider base, east of here, one that had no
alignment in this fight… but wouldn’t take too kindly to finding
anyone rummaging through raider pockets. Likely because they’d
want the loot, you think. You tuck the information away. At this
point, anything is worth an investigation. Even if it is dangerous.
END.
27.13
You take your time thoroughly searching all of the bodies, even the
ones you’ve already gone through. You don’t want to risk missing
any bombs. Even just one that’s left could go off at any time, and
could cause an explosion big enough to cause damage to anyone
nearby. You don’t want to run that risk.
The scavengers watch you, clearly taking an interest in your hurried
work. They can tell you’re looking for something. At long last one of
them comes over to you and stares until you look up at him.
“What?” you snap, not in the mood to justify your actions.
“What are you looking for?” His voice holds genuine curiosity. You
sigh and hold up the broken bomb.
“See this? This was a bomb. I’m checking to make sure there aren’t
any more.”
His face blanches and he shouts back to his group. They all seem to
be as surprised as he was and start going back to check old bodies.
“If you find any, bring them to me,” you tell him. He nods and
scampers off to join in the work.
Only two more bombs are brought to you – luckily, they’re both
duds. You can dispose of them safely but the young man still thanks
you heartily.
“You don’t need to thank me,” you tell him. “I just want to try and
make this place safe.”
“Well, it’s still a good idea to get rid of all this either way. In case the
raiders find them.”
“Why, do you think they’ll come back?”
“Oh, not these guys,” the scavenger scoffs, “the other ones.
They’re a couple of miles east. Really vicious bastards. Not the kind
of people you want to meet on a dark night. Or any time of day,
really.”
You nod but store that information away. Dangerous they may be,
but they might have seen your group. It might not be a terrible idea
to see what they know.
You leave once all the bombs are safely disposed of. Your work here
is done. You feel proud that a few less lives are endangered because
of you.
END.
Add Scavenger’s Artefact (F.26) to your notebook.
27.14
The scavengers speak amongst themselves once again
before the leader sniffs “all right.”
You hand her the items you found and she looks them over,
squinting at the note and rattling the canister against her ear.
“This is a note warning about the raider base to the east.
Probably right. They’re a bunch of vicious bastards over that way.”
She screws the note up and drops it to the ground before pocketing
the canister.
“And what was the other thing?”
“It’s of no importance to you, outsider.”
Ah, she’s noticed your badge. The hostility in the air seems to be
growing by the second.
“Now I think it’s time you leave, before we have a problem.”
Frustrated but unable to do anything you turn on your heel and
leave the area. You hear the laughs of the scavengers in the breeze.
Your fists clench so tightly you leave little crescents in your palm
from your nails. At least she didn’t take anything.
END.

27.15
The woman gives you the once over, then nods.
“All right outsider. You have yourself a deal.”
You’re led over to where the scavengers have divided their loot into
a few piles. The woman points at the smallest one, and you begin to
pick through it.
There are a lot of old world relics here. It’s surprising; seems like
people carry more trinkets around with them than you thought. You
hold up each item to the scavengers and explain what they are – this
is a necklace with a clover on, so probably a good luck charm, these
look like empty ammunition shells – and they nod and take them
from you to file away. By the time you’re done, the woman in charge
looks impressed.
“You know your stuff,” she says. You shrug.
“I’ve done research.”
“I can tell. Right, let’s see what’s stumping you, then.”
You pass her the note and the little canister. She squints at the
former and rattles the latter against her ear.
“This is a note, warning about the raider base to the east.
Probably right. They’re a bunch of vicious bastards over that way.”
She goes to hand you the note but you wave it away, not needing to
take it now that you know what it says. She crumples it up and
drops it to the floor.
“This used to be a bomb, but it’s broken now. Useless, too.”
She throws it onto the pile you guess is for garbage. You thank her
for her help and she nods.
“You know, you could come with us. Could always use another
expert around.”
“I can’t, I have to find my own people. But thank you.”
“Suit yourself,” she says, and the two of you part amicably. You smile
as you leave. All things considered, that went quite well.
At least it didn’t end in violence.
END.
Add Scavenger’s Artefact (F.26) to your notebook.
CHAPTER 28
THE STREETS
28.1
To say the streets are grim is an understatement. You knew the
outside of the city was in bad shape, but what you were told couldn’t
really have prepared you for what’s in front of you.
Everything is ruined.
The concrete beneath your feet is shattered to pieces and marred
with weeds, pushing their way through the dark grey. Buildings
have fallen to piles of rubble, and though they aren’t really suitable
for living, you can still see people moving around inside their broken
husks. A couple of times, you think you catch someone’s eye in
what’s left of a house before they skitter away. Probably worried
that you’ll pose some sort of threat. Not wanting to cause anyone
any unnecessary worry, you shove your hands in your pockets and
keep your head down.
People pass you on the street. Despite its dire appearance, it seems a
lot of people still live in this area of the city. All of them are as
skittish as the residents in the houses, though, giving you a wide
berth when they recognise you as an outsider.
It’s sad to see people living in such fear. Maybe there’s a strong
raider presence around here, and it’s easier to just keep your head
down.
It’s annoying. It would be handy to speak freely with the people
around here; maybe they’d have an idea of where your group had
got to. But every time you look at someone, they act like you’re going
to try to stab them rather than speak to them.
Attempt to approach someone – Turn to 28.2.
Keep walking – Turn to 28.3.
Study the surrounding buildings – Turn to 28.4, Needs Knowledge.
28.2
You spy a man walking along on his own. Like you he has his hands
in his pockets and his gaze glued to the weeds beneath his feet. His
eyes go wide with fear as he sees you approach him, and he stops
dead. You slow a few feet in front of him to try to show that you
don’t mean him any harm.
“Wh-what do you want?” he asks, unable to control the tremble in
his voice.
“I just want to talk to you,” you tell him. You can tell from the look on
his face that he doesn’t believe you.
“I don’t have anything on me!” he insists, holding his empty hands
out in front of him. You don’t know what else you can say to try to
calm him down, so you guess trying to get this conversation over
with as quickly as possible is the best route.
Ask for directions to the local area – Turn to 28.5.
Ask why everyone is so worried – Turn to 28.6.
28.3
You consider approaching a man you see walking along the street,
but as soon as you take a step towards him his eyes go wide and he
scurries to the opposite side of the road.
You let him go, not wanting to follow him and give him the wrong
idea. The last thing you want right now is for people to start
mistaking you for a mugger.
Instead, you keep walking. This road is surprisingly long, and though
there are turn offs to alleys and side streets you don’t take any of
them. People are acting worried enough about travelling here, you
don’t want to see what might happen in a less open, less lit space.
You’re so wrapped up in these thoughts you almost don’t hear the
scream. It’s only because you happen to be passing by the mouth to
an alley that you notice the high-pitched wail of fear. You stop and
poke your head round the corner to have a look.
The street is thin and dirty, with litter and rubble dotting the
concrete. You can see there are a couple, a man and a woman,
backing away from three figures descending on them. The woman
was the source of the scream and you see why when the knife
catches the setting sunlight and glints in one of the assailant’s
hands. It looks like these people are going to get mugged… or worse.
Step in – Turn to 28.7.
Draw the attackers’ attention away – Turn to 28.8.
28.4
You take a moment to pause and look at the architecture around
you. The houses are in neat little rows and look like, at some point,
they were all connected, each house sharing outer walls with its
neighbour. Probably a dangerous design – not ideal if there was a
fire, as it would catch quickly and keep spreading. Maybe that’s why
they’re husks now? An inferno started during the bombing – but
then again, it looks like these were destroyed by impact, rather than
fire. If this place is a big city now, it must have been huge back then,
making it a prime target for attack.
You sigh. It’s a shame. From the looks of these houses, they were
probably built around the mid 20th century. Though they’re blocky
and uniform, you imagine once upon a time they were quite good-
looking buildings, each resident putting their own little spin on an
otherwise identical home.
You’re pulled from your observations by a scream, and instinctively
– if not foolishly – follow it.
In an alley, you see two people being backed against a wall, three
assailants descending upon them. One of them has a knife. It looks
like they’re going to be mugged… or worse.

Draw the attackers’ attention away – Turn to 28.8.
28.5
“Ijust want some directions!” you insist, bringing your hands out of
your pockets to show you don’t have a concealed weapon. The man
seems to relax a little, but not completely, his eyes flitting from your
hands to your face as if he still expects you to jump him.
“Directions? To where?” Nervousness laces his voice, so you try to
keep your tone as calm as possible.
“I’m looking for a group of friends. We got separated, back in the
storm. Do you know anywhere they might have gone to? Anywhere
that lots of people gather?”
“Th-there’s the church.” He points and you see that sticking
obviously out from the tops of the other buildings is a huge spire,
the tallest point in this whole city. “Or the library. It’s about a half-
hour walk towards the centre of town. Have you tried there?”
You nod and make a note to write on your map.
“Thank you,” you tell him. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes the
words as a cue to leave, which he does gladly.
You watch the man jog away and sigh. Perhaps you’re destined to
never fit into this place. All the more reason to find everyone again,
you suppose.
END.
Add The Church (Chapter 14, L.14) and The Library (Chapter 17,
L.17) to map.
28.6
The man looks at you as if you’re mad, but a cursory glance reminds
him you aren’t from around here. He answers your question with a
sigh.
“There’s lots of raider groups ’round here. Most of them are outside
of the city, but come in often enough to cause trouble for us.”
“Why doesn’t everyone just move?”
The man laughs, an odd sound, as if he isn’t familiar with it.
“And go where?”
He takes advantage of your confusion to scurry away. You don’t
follow him.
His words ring in your head. And go where? You look around at the
ruined, hollowed-out buildings and suppose that this state of decay
is likely present everywhere in this world. If they moved out of the
city, you suppose they’d probably lose the sense of safety in
numbers and retain the threat of raiders. It’s no wonder there are so
many people here.
A scream startles you out of your thoughts. You notice it’s come
from an alleyway and poke your head round to have a look.
A man and a woman have been backed against a wall. Three men are
descending upon them. One of them has a knife. With bile
in your throat you realise it’s a mugging, and from what you know of
these streets so far? It won’t end nicely.
Draw the attacker’s attention away – Turn to 28.8.
28.7
“Hey!”Your voice echoes down the alley, the amplification helping to
hide the fact it’s shaking. You want to help, of course you do, but
there are three of them and one of you.
“What?” the one with the knife shouts back, readjusting his grip.
The potential victims look between the attackers and you. They look
ready to run. Maybe that’s the best thing you can do for them, give
them an opportunity to escape. In retrospect, you really didn’t think
this through. You just knew you had to do something.
The staring continues. You find your voice before they turn back and
continue.
Fight them – Turn to 28.10, Needs Hand-to-Hand Combat.
Run and try to lead them away – Turn to 28.8.
Talk them down – Turn to 28.11.
28.8
You need to draw their attention away, but you don’t think you
stand much of a chance in an actual fight. Luckily, there are pieces of
rock and debris littering the street and you find one that perfectly
fits your palm.
“Oi! ”
The assailants jump and stare at you.
You turn the rock over in your hand before lobbing it towards them
as hard as you can.
It must be luck, you think; either that, or you have better aim than
you thought. It goes flying through the air in an impressive arc
before hitting the man with the knife directly in the face. He yells in
pain, dropping his weapon so he can hold his nose with both hands,
now spurting blood like it’s a tap. His accomplices look at you, then
him, then you, and start running at you.
You turn on your heel and try to run faster.
You don’t know these streets, so you’re working entirely on
guesswork, but maybe you can play that to your advantage; if you
have no idea what side road you’re about to turn down, they don’t
either. They can’t predict where you’re trying to go.
It’s a good plan, so long as you don’t turn into a dead end.
You hear constant footsteps for at least the first three minutes.
Your heart is fit to burst out your chest from the effort of putting
them as far behind you as possible.
You’re lucky. Enough opportune turns and you’ve lost them. You risk
a glance over your shoulder and see the pursuers are gone. You can
only hope you’ve given the people they were attacking enough time
to escape.
Breathing heavily, you rest your back against a crumbling wall,
rolling your head back and closing your eyes. It’s a good thing you’ve
done – you hope. Of course, you had no idea who those people were.
You assumed they were victims. Maybe you got the wrong end of the
stick entirely…
You shake your head. You can’t think that way. It’s done now.
Your breathing returns to normal, slowly. You’ve run quite far now,
and got into the city. When you open your eyes you start – because
in front of you is an enormous spire.
It’s far bigger than any of the other buildings you’ve seen. It’s
incredible.
Maybe it’s a beacon to any passing travellers. Worth a look, anyway.
Your previous worries forgotten, you start heading to your next
destination.
END.
Add The Church (Chapter 14, L.14) to map.
28.9
You take a moment longer to watch, feeling odd and
uncomfortable at being a silent observer. You tuck your head back
around the wall.
If you get involved, you risk getting hurt. It’s just a fact. Not only
does one of them have a knife, but there are three of them against
one of you. Stepping in is asking for trouble.
The best thing you can do for yourself is walk away. You feel a pang
of guilt as you go, especially when another scream follows behind
you, but you start walking faster.
Don’t look back. It isn’t your problem. Don’t look back.
You can’t be in this city any more. You trace your steps back, leaving
the same way you came in. It’s likely people from the houses either
side of the street are watching you, a couple of them maybe even
recognising you from not ten minutes earlier, but you try not to
dwell on that. Instead, you concentrate on walking away, adjusting
your posture to that of those around you, staunchly looking down
and ignoring unfriendly eyes.
You get out of the city soon after. Houses fade away, becoming less
and less frequent until you’re back to open fields again.
Movement catches your eye and you look up for the first time in a
while.
On a hill in front of you, you can see a caravan trail. A long line of
carts trundling along, almost ants from this distance.
You find your feet moving towards them.
END.
28.10
The three of them clearly aren’t expecting someone to try to fight
them, especially a stranger who’s turned up out of nowhere when
they’re in the middle of a mugging.
Which is good – it means they don’t have time to respond.
You go for the armed man first, grabbing his hand and twisting.
He yelps as a couple of his fingers pop out of place and he drops the
knife. You raise your leg and kick him between his legs and he falls,
clutching himself desperately.
The other two jump, but it’s too late. You grab each one’s head,
burying a hand in the back of their hair, and smash them together.
They grunt in pain. You release them, letting them reel for a
moment, before taking one by the shoulders and kneeing him in the
stomach, then swing him towards the other one. Taken off guard,
they slam together once again and tumble to the pavement.
Just to be sure, you slam your foot into a couple more soft points
before turning to the couple. They look shocked.
“Come on!” you shout, and they don’t wait. The woman grabs her
partner’s hand and sprints off after you.
You run for a few minutes, leading the way with the others hot on
your trail. Suddenly, you feel a hand on your sleeve and are tugged
into an alley.
The woman and the man are breathing heavily, as if they aren’t used
to running like that. You let them catch their breath before trying to
talk.
“Are you all right?”
“Why did you do that?”
The woman’s face is firm, searching yours for any sign of deception.
“Why did I do what?”
“Help us.”
“Oh.” You shrug. “It was the right thing to do.”
She snorts.
“Right.”
Her partner speaks for the first time.
“Come on, Trish. We might have died. ”
She seems to relent when he finally makes his feelings known.
Her whole body seems to relax.
“Thank you,” she says eventually. You nod.
“Can we… is there any way we can thank you?” asks the man, but it
seems like he’s dreading the answer.
Turn to 28.12.
28.11
The man with the knife furrows his brow, half in
confusion, and half in anger.
“None of your fucking business.”
Before he can turn back you take a step forward and keep talking.
“Because it looks like you’re mugging these people.”
“Yes,” he says at length. He seems surprised at himself that he’s
answering you.
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“I mean, why mug these people. Look at them. What do you think
they have on them?”
The man opens his mouth, closes it. He inspects the couple, who
flinch back.
“I dunno. But I’m gonna find out.”
“Look, let’s be honest. They probably don’t have anything, do they?
That’s why they live here. Is it really worth it?”
“All right. What do you have?”
“Oh, that’s a road you don’t want to go down.”
“Oh yeah, and why’s that?”
“Because I’m much stronger than any of you, and if we fight, you will
lose.”
You say it with such effortless confidence that it catches him off
guard. His cronies look to him as you steadily hold his gaze. You’re
lucky he can’t see how sweaty your palms are.
“If you go now this will end much better for you. So go.”
You step to the side and gesture to the mouth of the alley.
The leader stares at you for a long, long moment, but you keep your
face impassive. Not scared, not angry, just determined.
He squints as he watches you, trying to call your bluff, but you’re
better than that. You just gesture again.
He breaks.
Flipping his knife away, he gestures for the other two to follow him.
They do, sneering at you as they go. Your face remains blank.
They leave.
When you’re sure they’re gone, you turn to the couple.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, we’re fin—”
“Why did you do that?”
The woman interrupts her partner. Her eyes are searching yours for
any sign of deception.
“Why did I do what?”
“Help us.”
“Oh.” You shrug. “Because it was the right thing to do.”
She snorts.
“Right.”
Her partner speaks for the first time.
“Come on, Trish. We might have died. ”
She seems to relent when he finally makes his feelings known.

Her whole body seems to relax.
“Thank you,” she says eventually. You nod.
“Can we… is there anything we can give you as thanks?” asks the
man, but it seems like he’s dreading the answer.
Turn to 28.12.
28.12
You look the couple over, taking in their ragged clothes and gaunt
faces. You doubt they have much on them. If you’re going to ask for
something, there’s little point in it being something of physical
value.
“Can you tell me what’s round here? Directions or anything?”
The man nods, happy to be of help (and probably relieved that you
only asked for that).
“Yeah! We know a lot about the city. What are you after?”
“Anywhere there’s lots of people. I’m looking for… people,” you
finish lamely, not wanting to reveal too much. The man doesn’t seem
to pick up on it – though his partner narrows her eyes – and
launches into a detailed description of the nearby area. You take out
your map and begin to make notes, but soon the man takes it from
you and scribbles on it himself.
“There you go,” he says at length, tucking it back into your hands.
“Thanks,” you tell him, not thrilled that he handled your things, but
grateful nonetheless.
“We’d better get home,” says the woman, tugging on her partner’s
hand. He nods and follows her out of the alley. He wishes you luck
before disappearing around the corner.
His partner doesn’t.

END.
Add The Caravans (Chapter 24, L.24), The Church (Chapter 14,
L.14), and The Library (Chapter 17, L.17) to map.
CHAPTER 29
THE REUNION
29.0
29.1
Your feet are tired. Your feet have been constantly tired since you
came here, honestly. But finally, finally, you’re going to get home.
And you can rest.
Your group was a couple of days’ travel from the radio tower. Not a
long trek in comparison to the rest of your journey, but every
moment was filled with a cocktail of emotions – worry that they
would be gone when you arrived, fear that something might get you
before you got home, and hope. Hope for the possibility that this
would all be over.
You crest a hill, your legs groaning with complaint beneath you, but
it’s all worth it when you see a tent. And then another. And then the
shower block… and the mess hall! It’s laid out differently from the
last time you saw it, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is the
people inside.
You’re torn between falling to your knees and running down as fast
as you can. Either way, tears have suddenly sprung from your face.
Without conscious thought, you are marching forwards, then
running as the slope of the hill adds to your momentum. There’re a
couple of people outside the tents, busying themselves with work.
One of them raises their head and spots you and starts waving their
arms, calling out. Soon, a crowd has gathered to welcome you back.
You trip over your own feet but it doesn’t matter.
You’re here.
You’re home.
Through tear-clouded eyes, you fall into the arms of the first person
you come to. They wrap you in a tight embrace.
“Well, I’m glad to see you too!”
It’s a voice you recognise. Pulling back and wiping your face with
your sleeve, you see Fanon’s familiar, reassuring smile. You don’t
apologise for your behaviour. Instead, you just throw yourself back
into his arms. He chuckles. It’s been a long time since you had a hug
this nice.
“The prodigal child returns, hm?” It’s Mari.
You separate from her father and turn towards Mari. She has a rare
smile on her face and seems genuinely pleased to see you.
“I’m glad you’re safe.” She claps a hand on your shoulder and you
grin, still too choked up to really talk. “Come on. I think we need to
have a catch-up.”
Ask to rest first – Turn to 29.3.
29.1G
Your feet are tired. You know Gaia’s are, too, because she hasn’t
stopped complaining about it. All you can do is grunt in agreement.
But finally, finally, you’re going to be home.
And you can rest.
Your group was a couple of days’ travel from the radio tower. Not a
long trek in comparison to the rest of your journey, but every
moment was filled with a cocktail of emotions – worry that they
would be gone when you arrived, fear that something might get you
before you got home, and hope. Hope for the possibility that this
would all be over. And, of course, the background noise of Gaia’s
babbling. An annoying nervous habit, but not something you can
really blame her for. She’s been through a lot.
You crest a hill, your legs groaning with complaint beneath you, but
it’s all worth it when you see a tent. And then another. And then the
shower block… and the mess hall! It’s laid out differently from the
last time you saw it, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is the
people inside.
“Oh my god,” Gaia gasps as she sees it too. “Oh my god!”
You’re torn between falling to your knees and running down as fast
as you can. Either way tears have started streaming down your
face. You find yourself walking forwards, then running as the slope
of the hill adds to your momentum, Gaia hot on your heels.
There are a couple of people outside the tents busying themselves
with work. One of them raises their head and spots you and starts
waving their arms, calling out. Soon, a crowd has gathered to
welcome you both back. You trip over your own feet but it doesn’t
matter – you’re here, you’re home.
Through tear-clouded eyes, you fall into the arms of the first person
you come to. They wrap you in a tight embrace.
“Well, I’m glad to see you too!”
It’s a voice you recognise. Pulling back and wiping your face with
your sleeve, you see Fanon’s familiar, reassuring smile. You don’t
apologise for your behaviour. Instead, you just throw yourself back
into his arms. He chuckles. It’s been a long time since you had a hug
this nice.
“The prodigal children return, hm?” It’s Mari.
You separate from her father and turn towards Mari. She has a rare
smile on her face and seems genuinely pleased to see the both of
you. Gaia steps back from where she’s been embracing people, too.
“I’m glad you’re safe.” Mari claps a hand on your shoulder and you
grin, still too choked up to really talk. “Come on. I think we need to
have a catch-up.”
Ask to rest first – Turn to 29.3.
29.2
You follow Mari to a tent you’ve only been in one other time.
It’s the tent where they first showed you the map of the Old World,
where they marked out where you were to go and explore. As you
walk in, you see it’s still laid out. It seems so small now, compared to
everywhere you’ve been.
“Take a seat,” Mari tells you, gesturing to one of the wooden
benches. You do as you’re instructed, feeling relieved to have the
weight off your legs.
“Are you all right?” Fanon asks, taking a seat opposite.
“I’m… here,” is what you decide on. That’s a difficult question to
answer. You aren’t even sure if you have an answer. You don’t want
to think about it too much.
“I imagine you’ve seen quite a bit since you left.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” you laugh, but it’s humourless. They both
look at you expectantly. Fanon is sitting back, his demeanour
curious but not probing, but Mari leans over the desk in anticipation.
She clearly can’t wait to hear what you’ve discovered.
So you tell them.
It isn’t easy. You try not to leave anything out for their sake, but it
means you have to relive it all, even the bad parts. You choke and
sputter your way through your story, in some parts visibly

distressed, and at one point Fanon comes to sit by you and puts a
reassuring hand on your shoulder.
It’s a long tale, and some of it is difficult to tell, but it’s yours.
You finish by telling them how you ended up back here. Mari nods,
shifting her stance so she’s not leaning over the desk.
“Right. Well, if all of what you say is true, I have to go and speak to a
few people,” she says, and leaves the tent before you have time to
ask her what that means. You and Fanon are left alone.
“You’ve done very well,” he says. There’s a softness in his voice that
you haven’t heard from anyone in a long time.
Option 1:
Needs Balloon Blueprints, Tiger Claw, Bear Tooth, Tiger Skin
OR Deer Skin.
Show him Balloon Blueprints – Turn to 29.4, Needs Balloon
Blueprints.
Show him Animal Remains – Turn to 29.5, Needs Tiger Claw, Bear
Tooth, Tiger Skin, OR Deer Skin.
Option 2:
Cannot have Balloon Blueprints, Tiger Claw, Bear Tooth, Tiger
Skin OR Deer Skin.
“It was ruthless” – Turn to 29.6, Needs Cruelty as your highest
stat.
“It was rough” – Turn to 29.7, Needs Resolve as your highest stat.
“It was enlightening” – Turn to 29.8, Needs Compassion as your
highest stat.
“I don’t know how to feel” – Turn to 29.9, Needs Instability as your
highest stat.
29.3
“Please, I want to rest first,” you say. As the words trail out of your
mouth you feel the heaviness of your body.
You really need to lie down. Mari doesn't look impressed and opens
her mouth to say something, but Fanon interrupts her.
“Of course you can. You must be exhausted. Come on, you can stay in
my tent.”
Fanon wraps an arm around you and ushers you away from the
crowd and his daughter’s disapproving gaze.
You come to a larger tent and Fanon holds the door open for you.
Inside is a surprisingly nice-looking room; though obviously a tent,
there are nice pieces of furniture and decorations sitting around.
You want to look closer, but at the sight of the bed a wave of
exhaustion rushes over you. You drop your pack and collapse into it
face first.
The last thing you hear is Fanon’s chuckle.
You wake up to the smell of food. Fanon is on one of his little chairs
holding a steaming bowl of porridge. Your whole body feels heavy
from too much sleep, but it’s a nice feeling. It feels like you’re
recharged for the first time since you left.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you say, recalling just how quickly you fell
asleep. Fanon laughs and passes you the food.
“It’s fine. I could tell you needed the rest.”
You eat a spoonful without bothering to cool it down. It burns but
it’s tasty.
“How long was I asleep for?”
“Sixteen hours.”
“Sixteen?!”
You almost spit the food out in shock.
“Mari’s been waiting outside for a while. She wanted to wake you up
a couple of times but I told her to leave you be. You seem all the
better for it.”
“Yeah,” you admit, finishing your meal far too fast.
“Come on,” says Fanon, “I’ve held her at bay for as long as I can.
I think it’s time to have a chat.”
You nod.
You’re ready.
Remove one Instability from your character sheet.
Turn to 29.2.
29.4
You pull the blueprints from your bag and hand them to Fanon. His
brow furrows in curiosity as he unravels them.
“I got them from the raiders who were fighting. I didn’t know what
to do, so I brought them back here.”
Fanon traces the lines with his finger, taking in every minute detail
of what’s in front of him. He sighs before rolling them back up.
“I don’t know much about old world technology, I’m afraid. But
these don’t look encouraging. You got them from raiders, you say?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.” He taps the scroll against his leg. “I suppose we should take
them back to the vault when we go. Maybe the engineers there can
shed some more insight on them. But if the raiders are airborne, it
doesn’t bode well for anyone here.”
You can agree with him on that. You know it from experience. You
go quiet until Fanon gently asks, “How do you feel about
everything?”
Add one to any trait ( Cruelty, Resolve, Compassion, Instability).
stat.
highest stat.
highest stat.
29.5
You take the remains out of your bag and pass them to
Fanon. He looks confused for a moment before realising what you’re
showing him.
“I see,” he mutters, turning it over in his hands before setting it
down onto his lap. “Death is just as natural as life, you know.
Sometimes, things happen which we cannot control. Anything
you’ve done, you had to do for a reason.”
Is that true? You look at the piece of death he holds in his fingers.
It doesn’t feel true. It doesn’t feel like you’ve been swept along by
fate. Not by the end of it all, anyway. It feels like a lot of decisions
were well and truly in your hands and you made them, regardless of
whether they were good or not.
Fanon notices your silence and takes advantage of it to ask quietly,
“How do you feel?”
Add one to any trait ( Cruelty, Resolve, Compassion, Instability).
stat.
highest stat.
highest stat.
29.6
“It was ruthless.”
You look down at your hands, flexing your fingers. Your knuckles
are dry; there’s blood on the end of your sleeves.
You can’t look Fanon in the eye.
The faces of the people you’ve hurt flash in front of your eyes. At
least, you think they do. To be honest, you didn’t bother memorising
them. They weren’t that important to you – just another stepping
stone on your way back home.
There’s a steeliness in your gut. You don’t regret what you did.
Did you do what you had to do, or did you do things on top of that
because you enjoyed them? It’s hard to tell.
All you know is that you’re not the same person you were when
Fanon last saw you.
He doesn’t say anything. Perhaps he’s not sure how to talk to you
any more.
Turn to 29.10.
29.7
“It was… rough.”
It’s the best way you can think to describe it. It was. You had to
make some hard decisions, some of which you aren’t especially
proud of. Every time you chose to hurt someone, or made a tough
choice, you felt like a little bit more of your humanity was whittled
away. Now, you’re not sure who you are any more. It’s not the same
person who landed on the shore, wind in their hair and excitement
in their belly.
“Yes, it can be like that out here.” A pause. “Do you want to go back
to the vault?”
You chuckle dryly. He keeps asking you the hard questions.
You can’t imagine life back in the vault. Not now. Back in a place
where all your decisions were pretty much decided for you. What
was best for the colony. You’ve had a taste of freedom now. It’s
bittersweet, but you want more. It doesn’t feel like the vault has
anything to offer you any more.
Turn to 29.10.
29.8
“It was… enlightening.”
It’s a strange word but Fanon’s face lights up at it.
“You thought so?”
“I do. It’s… a harsh world. But there’s still so much good in it.”
Fanon laughs, overjoyed.
“I think so, too! I’ve met many good people out here. Not everyone,
of course, but that can be said for any place.”
The two of you are suddenly swept up discussing your stories, the
people you’ve met and befriended along the way. Fanon seems
delighted at what you tell him. Clearly, he was worried you’d come
back gnarled and hateful, but instead you’ve had your sense of
humanity renewed.
It’s not what you were expecting. But you’re happy about it either
way.
Turn to 29.10.
29.9
“Idon’t know how I feel.”
The words drip from your lips in broken chunks and float heavily in
the air. You wish you could be more succinct, but you can’t.
Everything has been… too much. You can’t work out how you’re
supposed to feel.
All at once, everything comes back to you, everything you’ve been
through while you’ve been here, crashing like heavy waves on a
crumbling rocky shore. A breathy choke leaves your lips and you fall
forward, putting your head between your legs to try to rebalance.
You feel Fanon’s hand on your back, trying to rub calm circles into
you, but it isn’t working. It isn’t working. Your lungs feel like they’re
going to explode with the rate at which you’re breathing. You retch
and nothing comes up.
“It’s all right,” murmurs Fanon. “It’s all right.”
It isn’t.
Turn to 29.10.
29.10
At some point you hear Mari come back into the tent. She must
sense the changed atmosphere, as she shoots Fanon a look as if to
work out whether you’re all right. You don’t see his reply.
“Well, I have news,” Mari says, and you finally turn to face her.
She looks… grave isn’t quite the right word, you don’t think. Stony,
perhaps. Steeled in her decision. She takes a seat at the bench
opposite you and looks at you levelly.
“I’ve been in contact with the vault. This was only meant to be an
intel mission, just to research what was going on with the natives
here. But they’re impressed with what you’ve done. They think…
they think you’re the best one to ask how we go forward from here,
because you’ve seen the most of this place.”
Her words sink in slowly, like your mind is made of wet cement.
You blink a couple of times.
“Me? But I don’t… I’m just someone who got lost.”
“Yes, I thought that too. But it’s not my decision.” She crosses her
legs with all the gravitas she can muster and says, “So. What do we
do now?”
END.
Tell Mari you’re going to leave – Go to Chapter 30.
Suggest you help the villagers – Go to Chapter 31.
Leave in the night – Go to Chapter 32. Resolve is your highest
stat.
Return to the vault – Go to Chapter 33. Instability is your highest
stat.
Build a new future with the local people – Go to Chapter 34.
Compassion is your highest stat.
Wipe out the raiders – Go to Chapter 35. Cruelty is your highest
stat.
S.1
THE SEASIDE FARM
S.1.1
It’s a surprisingly hot afternoon. You’re far more used to the
onslaught of rain in this strange new land – it’s become a sort of
constant companion for you. No matter where you’re going or how
long it takes you to get there, the rain is always right there beside
you.
Or, more accurately, on top of you, doing its best to soak through
your thick coat and down into your long johns. It isn’t that you enjoy
it; in fact, far from it – the moist squelch of water in your footwear
has quickly become your least favourite sound. But at least it’s
something that you can rely on to keep you company. People may
come and go, places on your map may be left behind forever, but at
least there will always be the rain.
You feel a bit lost without it.
These last few days have been difficult, traversing the open, bleak
remains of the Old World. You haven’t found any real leads yet and
your patience, and hope, is wearing thin. The effort is beginning to
weigh heavy on your soul.
You find yourself climbing up a small hill under the beating sun.
You’re not really equipped for the warmth and you feel like you’re
boiling alive. Sweat runs in rivulets down your neck and makes your
shirt sticky against your back. It’s a revolting feeling.
You spy an old oak growing from the apex of the hill in front of you.
You force yourself to move quicker in your swampy boots and
ignore the extra layer of perspiration that comes with the effort.
When you reach the trunk you throw your pack to the ground and
flop into the shade, pulling off your coat as fast as you can and
discarding it onto the grass.
After a moment you get your breath back and find the momentum to
sit up. The bark of the tree is rough against your sticky back but
welcomely solid to lean against. You take in your surroundings
while you have such a good vantage point.
There’s a heavy, grey cloud on the horizon, coming in off of the sea,
pregnant with the promise of precipitation. The heat is
uncomfortable and you’re wondering if you’d actually enjoy some
respite from it within the deluge.
Then the thought occurs to you.
You never really looked that far up the coast for Fanon’s group.
You just assumed they’d gone inland to get away from the storm.
But maybe they’d tried to find a place further along by the sea that
wasn’t so badly affected, somewhere that they could still be near the
ocean to keep a lookout for ships.
Somewhere you’d know to look for them.
You stuff your coat into your already bloated backpack and start off
towards the cloud, towards the coast.
The heat is still ferocious but better now you’re wearing fewer
layers, and it takes you a couple of hours to get to the water’s edge
on foot. The sea is calm for now and laps at your feet in gentle
waves, welcoming you back as an old friend. To the south the shore
turns sharply into towering cliffs.
North it is then, you suppose.

Unfortunately, the rain never comes as the cloud is blown away by
the strong sea breeze, but at least you feel cooler. You walk for the
rest of the day, stop and make camp for the evening, then head back
on next dawn.
You’re not sure how long you’ve been travelling when you spot it.
There’s a building in the distance. It isn’t one you recognise so
you’re quite sure you haven’t been here before. Still, it might be a
place where the group was hiding out, so best to go and inspect it.
The closer you get, the more details you can make out. The building
itself isn’t anything spectacular, just a squat one-storey metal
bungalow and a few wooden shacks surrounded by weathered
chain-link. There are two people on guard by a hole in the fence
that’s acting as a gate.
Suddenly, you realise that if your group were here, you’d probably
have noticed them by now. Your heart sinks, but it’s still worth
asking if they’ve seen anyone in passing.
Also, you can’t lie – something else has drawn your attention.
The most interesting thing is that the fence extends into the sea,
cordoning off a section of water. You can see what looks like some
kind of buoys out in the ocean, bobbing up and down on the waves.
You wonder what these people could be guarding. And if it could be
valuable.
You’re getting close to being spotted now. You need to think how
best to approach.
Approach boldly – Turn to S.1.2.
Scope out the building further – Turn to S.1.3.
Approach aggressively – Turn to S.1.4, Needs Sharpshooter,
Hand-to-Hand Combat, OR a weapon
S.1.2
No point in trying to hide your intentions, you decide. You gather up
all your courage and start to walk towards the pair on lookout.
They don’t notice you for a moment as they’re too busy chatting.
They actually seem to be quite relaxed, leaning against the fence and
exchanging jokes. One of them has a pipe clamped between his teeth
and blows huge billows of grey smoke into the air around him as if
he’s trying to mask his face from unwelcome eyes.
His companion elbows him as they notice you approaching. They
stand to attention and, though they don’t ready their spears, they
readjust their grips, just in case you’re not friendly.
“Morning,” calls out the guard with the pipe. His voice is cheerful,
welcoming almost. It’s not the sort of greeting you were expecting.
You raise your hand in acknowledgement and stop about ten feet
away from the pair.
“You here to trade?” he continues, looking you up and down. “You
don’t look like the type we usually get here. No offence.”
There’s none taken, but you do consider his question for a moment.
Are you here to trade?
Yes, I’m here to trade – Turn to S.1.5.

No, I’m not here to trade – Turn to S.1.6.
S.1.3
Best to take a look around before the guards spot you, you decide.
There’s no point in causing unnecessary
aggravation, and it’s always wise to be ahead of the game.
Know the enemy’s soil.
You hope ‘enemy’ is too strong a word, but it’s good to be cautious...
just in case.
Despite its proximity to the sea, there’s plenty of flora around. It’s
easy to hide, skipping from wind-beaten tree to thorny bush as you
get closer. The guards don’t notice you. They seem too caught up in
their conversation to be doing a very good job of guarding. Their
laughs echo along the empty seashore.
It’s a sound you’re unused to, but it’s nonetheless pleasant to hear,
the fact that people can still laugh out here.
You head back inland a little and take cover on more elevated land,
allowing you to get a better look at the site from above.
As you suspected, the place doesn’t seem to have any signs of your
group. There are people dotted around getting on with their work
but even from here you can tell none of them are dressed like Fanon
or Mari were. They wore overcoats and heavy packs. Most of these
people seem to be wearing some sort of green overalls,
covered from foot to chest. This starts to make sense as you see a
couple of them heading into the water to check something you can’t
quite make out.
You watch them for about an hour, hidden safely in the foliage of the
coastline. They don’t appear to be doing anything dangerous.
Plus, by your count, there’s less than a dozen people down there,
hardly a militia.
It shouldn’t be dangerous for you to approach the little group.
Approach boldly – Turn to S.1.2.
Approach aggressively – Turn to S.1.4, Needs Sharpshooter,
Hand-to-Hand Combat, OR a weapon
S.1.4
You grip your weapon in your hands and decide that these people
will probably be an easy fight. You head towards them without a
second thought.
The two guards at the makeshift gate seem relaxed until one of them
notices you and their eyes go wide. They elbow their companion,
who’s smoking heavily on a pipe, and nod towards you.
The other guard furrows his brow and grips his spear tightly,
bringing it in front of him in defence. You see his eyes flit between
your weapons as if he is trying to decide whether he would be able
to take you on.
They seem more surprised than angry at the fact that you’re armed.
The guard with the pipe speaks up.
“You can put yer weapon away, traveller. There’s no need for
violence here.”
You don’t, but listen to his words with mild interest. His knuckles
flash white as he rearranges his hold on his spear.
“We ain’t one of them raider groups. We’re just here to look after the
farm. That’s it.”
His companion finally chimes in. They’ve seemed the most nervous,
not looking away from you for a second.
“We do trade here, traveller. Perhaps you’d prefer just to come in

and trade with us?”
This gives you pause for thought. You could go in and trade with the
people here. It would probably be easier. Or you could try to take
what they have by force.
Decide to trade – Turn to S.1.5a.
Decide to attack – Turn to S.1.7.
S.1.5
“All right,” you say, “I’ll come and trade.”
The guards seem pleased with the answer and
relax their spears.
“I ain’t so good with faces. Remind me, you been here before?”
“No, this is my first time.”
“All right then,” says the smoking guard, taking his pipe from his
mouth and tapping it, letting a fine dusting of ash get blown away by
the coastal wind before it can settle on the floor. “Come on, let’s go
and find Hamish. He’s the one who’s in charge of this joint.”
He stands back and gestures for you and the other guard to go in.
You have to duck to stop the sharp off-hangs of chain-link from
catching on your coat. The guards follow you and the one with the
pipe bellows, “Hamish!”
He goes to call the name again before breaking down into a violent
cough. You furrow your brow, wondering why you had to come
inside the fence for him to summon this ‘Hamish’ – surely he could
have done so just as easily from where he was standing? –
when the front door of one of the little wooden shacks is thrown
open. A man steps out into the open air, fiddling with the buckle on a
pair of long, green overalls.
“Aye, I’m coming, I’m coming,” he grumbles. He looks at the

coughing guard with a mix of concern and umbrage. “I’ve told yer t’
lay off the pipe, Ron. It’s no good fer ye.”
The guard stands up, waving off his remark with a flap of his hand.
“Nothing here is good fer me. At least let me have something I
enjoy,” he says. “Anyway, this traveller wants to trade with us.
Figured you’d be the best one for them to talk to.”
The man seems to notice you for the first time and smiles a huge,
toothy grin. He comes forward with his hand outstretched for a
handshake.
“Good to meet yer, bairn. I’m Hamish. Somehow I ended up as the
boss of this farm.”
You take his hand in your own to return the friendly greeting. It’s
calloused and surprisingly warm for someone who lives by the sea.
A hand which has no doubt had a life of hard, manual work out here.
Yours feels a little lacklustre by comparison. He doesn’t seem to
notice your introspection, and takes a step back to get a good look at
you.
“You… don’t tell me yer from one of the vaults?” he says, eyes going
wide as your appearance registers.
Tell him you’re from a vault – Turn to S.1.8.
Keep quiet, insist you’re just here to trade – Turn to S.1.9.
S.1.5A
You consider the options. These people don’t seem to want to act
aggressively, and it’s much more of a hassle for you to stay up in
arms.
“All right,” you say, putting away your weapon, “I’ll come and trade.”
The guards seem pleased with the answer and relax their spears.
The one without a pipe lets out a breath they didn’t seem to realise
they were holding.
“I ain’t so good with faces. Remind me, you been here before?”
“No, this is my first time.”
“All right then,” says the smoking guard, taking his pipe from his
mouth and tapping it, letting a fine dusting of ash get blown away by
the coastal wind before it can settle on the floor. “Come on, let’s go
and find Hamish. He’s the one who’s in charge of this joint.”
He stands back and gestures for you and the other guard to go in.
You have to duck to stop the sharp off-hangs of cut chain-link from
catching on your coat. The guards follow you and the one with the
pipe bellows, “Hamish!”
He goes to call the name again before breaking down into a violent
cough. You furrow your brow, wondering why you had to
come inside the fence for him to summon this ‘Hamish’ – surely he
could have done so just as easily from where he was standing? –
when the front door of one of the little wooden shacks is thrown
open. A man steps out into the open air, fiddling with the buckle on a
pair of long, green overalls.
“Aye, I’m coming, I’m coming,” he grumbles. He looks at the
coughing guard with a mix of concern and umbrage. “I’ve told yer t’
lay off the pipe, Ron. It’s no good fer ye.”
The guard stands up, waving off his remark with a flap of his hand.
“Nothing here is good fer me. At least let me have something I
enjoy,” he says. “Anyway, this traveller wants to trade with us.
Figured you’d be the best one for them to talk to. Careful, they’re a
bit… jumpy.”
The guard looks at you and raises his eyebrows. You’re not sure if
you would describe someone who came at you with a weapon drawn
as ‘jumpy’; it seems a bit of an understatement, but you don’t take
offence to it.
The new man seems to notice you for the first time and smiles a
huge, toothy grin. He comes forward with his hand outstretched for
a handshake.
“Good to meet yer, bairn. I’m Hamish. Somehow I ended up as the
boss of this farm.”
You take his hand in your own to return the friendly greeting. It’s
calloused and surprisingly warm for someone who lives by the sea.
A hand which has no doubt had a life of hard, manual work out here.
Yours feels a little lacklustre by comparison. He doesn’t seem to
notice your introspection, and instead takes a step back to get a
good look at you.
“You… don’t tell me yer from one of the vaults?” he says, eyes going
wide as your appearance registers.
Keep quiet and insist you’re just here to trade – Turn to S.1.9.
S.1.6
“Now, come on,” pipes in a new voice, “surely you can’t have come
all this way not to take advantage of our bounty!”
The guards both turn as a man walks towards the hole in the gate.
He has a welcoming smile on his face and cheerfully walks up to you,
unbothered by your appearance. In fact, he clasps a friendly arm
around your shoulders. It’s the most welcoming gesture you’ve felt
in a while, even if it comes out of the blue.
“Ah, Hamish, leave the wean alone,” says the guard with the pipe,
rolling his eyes good-naturedly.
“Nonsense, they don’t mind,” the man now known as Hamish says,
gently steering you through the hole in the fence and to the inside of
their camp. He seems quite sure your refusal of their offer of trade
was because of embarrassment on your end and seems determined
to change that. As you walk you feel Hamish’s eyes on you, taking
you in.
“Say,” he begins, “you’re not from one of those overseas vaults, are
ye?”
Remain silent – Turn to S.1.12.
S.1.7
No, you decide, it’s going to be easier to fight this out.
Weapon drawn, you leap on the nearest of the two guards, the one
without the pipe. They let out a little yelp as they go to the floor with
a hard thud.
The other guard yells in surprise and comes towards you, but you
swipe out hard with your right fist and catch him in the soft spot just
under his kneecap. With a gasp of pain he falls to the floor, clutching
his leg. You turn back to the guard beneath you, ineffectually
scrabbling to retrieve their weapon as you bring down your elbow
into their face. You feel something snap on impact and you think it
must be their nose.
Just as you draw back to strike again you feel a heavy, painful impact
on the base of your skull. It’s only for a split second as it makes
everything around you go black.
Groggily, you groan as the world returns to you. There’s a sharp
ache where you were hit in the head that throbs every time you try
to open your eyes, so instead you bury the meat of your palms into
your eye sockets to try to relieve the feeling. You hear a little
chuckle nearby and look up towards it when you feel like you’re able
to.
You’re no longer outside, but are instead inside a small, poorly lit
room. Perhaps one of the shacks that you spotted before? Even
worse you appear to be in a cage. An old, rusty thing, clearly not
designed for humans – you barely fit inside. A man watches you
from across the room, an amused expression on his face. He runs his
hand through a great, orange beard and gives you a smile. It’s not
nasty or mocking, it seems quite genuine, and that makes it sting
more.
“We don’t like people who come here just t’ cause trouble, you
know,” he says, sagely. You don’t reply. You can imagine he’s right,
they don’t. And that’s pretty much exactly how you introduced
yourself.
“Now,” he continues, “have you calmed down?”
Apologise for your behaviour – Turn to S.1.10.
Remain silent – Turn to S.1.11.
S.1.8
“Yes,” you confess, seeing no reason to hide your origins from this
oddly enthusiastic but nonetheless curious man.
“Ah, is that a fact? I thought I recognised yer uniform from… well,
must’ve been way back when, back when the first lot from the vaults
came over. Twenty or so years ago?”
You feel a bit disappointed. If he doesn’t recognise your clothes from
your group passing through, they can’t have been here.
“Look, come inside for a cuppa. If yer willin’ to talk, I’d like to hear
yer story, bairn.”
In a complete flip from earlier, you suddenly find that the wind off of
the sea has made you quite chilly. You accept his offer and follow
him into the largest metal building.
It seems to be a little home area they have set up for themselves.
There are a couple of other people inside, all dressed in the green
overalls, none of whom seem bothered when Hamish tells you to sit
down and make yourself comfortable. You look around the room as
you take off your pack and settle down on the little threadbare sofa
they have.
The corrugated metal walls have been painted with bright paint to
try to give the interior a cheerful feel, but despite best efforts at
upkeep it’s started to peel away. The place is divided in two, a living
area and a sleeping area. On the side you entered from, there’s a
knackered suite of furniture which seems well used, as well as a
paraffin stove and several cupboards full of jars of… something
pickled? You can’t tell without a better look.
Opposite you, there are several sets of bunkbeds set up around the
perimeter of the room in the most space-efficient way possible,
packed in like sardines with just enough space for the occupants to
roll out in the morning. Some of them are neatly made, while others
have blankets and pillows strewn across the mattresses. It’s a well
lived-in, if not tidy, place, but it certainly seems like home to them.
Hamish sets down a steaming tin mug in front of you and you
gratefully accept it, blowing on the steam and using the beverage to
warm your hands.
“So, tell me how you ended up here,” he says.
And you do.
You tell him about the boat ride, the storm. Gaia and Viktor, Mari
and Fanon. What you’ve seen since being here. How you’re looking
for those you’ve lost. He listens and nods and as you were expecting,
he tells you that he hasn’t seen them. At least that means they went
inland, you suppose.
“Seems like you’ve been through quite a lot,” he says. You nod and
look down at your now-depleted tea.
“You know, I have a sister not far from here. She’s the leader of a big
tribe that lives inside a ship. I think she’d be interested in meeting
yer – maybe she’s seen yer group.”
If you have met Morag (E.2) – Turn to S.1.13.
If you’ve read The Great Migration (CH 8) – Turn to S.1.15.
Otherwise – Turn to S.1.14.
S.1.9
You follow Hamish into the cold air of the coastal farm, glad for your
overcoat against the wind off the sea. With a great sweeping gesture
he indicates the fenced-off portion of the ocean that the farm sits
watching over. The floating balls bob in the waves, steady in their
buoyancy.
“This is where the magic happens,” he tells you. “At the end of each
of these beauties is a line of rope, or a net, or a cage. We grow it all
here. Scallops, clams, mussels – seaweed! And of course fishing.
We’re lookin’ into farming shrimp, too. We have another couple of
sites along the coast we want to expand for it. People come to us to
trade for food. We’ve no interest in fighting; we’re happy to share
for a good offer. Would be nice if the rest of the place thought that
way,” he sighs.
He beckons you to follow him into one of the little sheds. The
moment he opens the door you find yourself sucking air in through
your teeth – it’s freezing! Huge barrels of ice are shoved in here, the
remainder of their last catch. Fresh, filleted fish glisten appetisingly
and black shells of mussels sparkle from the frost. It’s incredible.
You’ve never seen anything like it, not even back in the vault.
“So,” says Hamish, snapping you out of your thoughts, “can I help ye
any further, or do you just want to trade?”
You may swap any one non-item stickers (labelled “F”) for Seafood
(F.29) here.
Ask to stay and help a while – Turn to S.1.16.
Ask if there’s anything else interesting here – Turn to S.1.17.
Leave – Turn to S.1.18.
S.1.10
Perhaps what you did was wrong. Perhaps you acted too
harshly. With a deep, long sigh, you look the man in the eyes.
“I’m sorry. I acted rashly.”
That seems good enough for him. He stands up and walks over to
where you’re contained and opens a hatch on the front of the
makeshift cage – which turns out to be mostly made of wood and
wire, but is surprisingly sturdy – and lets you out.
“I’m Hamish. I’d apologise for the bump on the noggin I gave ye back
there but, well. You were a bit wild.”
“I know. Again, sorry.”
“Well. Now yer in yer right mind, let’s see if we can do business,”
he says, and walks outside. You follow, your temper rightfully
cooled.
Turn to S.1.9.
S.1.11
You stare at the man from across the dark little room, with a look
that lets him know: I have no intention of apologising to the likes of
you.
He sighs and stands up to his full height and shakes his head.
“Shame,” he tells you, before yelling out in a call for someone.
Four people enter the room, including the two guards from before,
one of them looking bloodied and furious.
“Take them away and make sure they don’t come back.”
The guard now without his pipe nods, and you find yourself being
carried in the crate with a great amount of effort. The group lifts you
out of the building and then out of the camp, walking far inland with
you. It’s night by the time they decide to deposit you. They drop
your crate and one of them throws your pack down nearby.
“Don’t come back,” says the broken-nosed guard. They walk away.
It takes at least an hour of struggling for you to finally free yourself
from your confines. Eventually, the crate gives way and falls apart,
leaving you flat on your back and furious. You grab your pack and
vow never to return to those lowlifes.
END.
S.1.12
You stare at Hamish, tight lipped, with an expression on your face
that lets him know you have no intention of divulging more about
yourself than you absolutely need to. After a moment Hamish shrugs
and sighs and shakes his head.
“All right then. Yer an odd one, I’ll give you that.”
You wouldn’t say odd, you’d say cautious. But you don’t correct him.
Turn to S.1.9.
S.1.13
“Oh, Morag?” you say. Hamish looks genuinely taken
aback.
“You know her?”
“I do! She was one of the first people I met out here.”
You find yourself easily lapsing into another story, describing your
journey to the ship and your meeting with Hamish’s sister. He
listens with a big smile on his face, nodding along and commenting
‘aye, that’s just like her!’. At the end of your tale Hamish claps his
hands together.
“Well bairn, any friend of my sister’s is a friend of mine!” he tells
you, getting to his feet and asking you to follow him. “Come, I’ll tell
ye how we work ’round here. Guided tour, that’s special!”
He leads you out of the warmth and back into the bracing sea
breeze, then sweeps his hand across the ocean at the buoys bobbing
away on the water.
“This is where the magic happens,” he tells you. “At the end of each
of these beauties is a line of rope, or a net, or a cage. We grow it all
here. Scallops, clams, mussels, even seaweed. And of course we go
fishing. We’re lookin’ into farming shrimp, too. We’ve another
couple of sites along the coast we want to expand. People come to
us to trade for food. We’ve no interest in fighting, just happy to share

for a good offer. Would be nice if the rest of the place thought that
way.”
He beckons you to follow him into one of the little sheds. The
moment he opens the door, you find yourself sucking air in through
your teeth – it’s freezing! Huge barrels of ice are shoved in here, the
remainder of their last catch. Fresh, filleted fish glisten appetisingly
and black shells of mussels sparkle from the frost. It’s incredible.
You’ve never seen anything like it, not even back in the vault.
“Take what you can carry. If you’re in Morag’s good graces, you’re a
welcome recipient.”
“But—” you begin, very much feeling bad for not offering a trade.
He waves his hand to gently silence you.
“I insist. Consider it hospitality.”
Add Seafood (F.29) to your notebook.
Ask to stay and help a while – Turn to S.1.16.
Ask if there’s anything else interesting here – Turn to S.1.17.
S.1.14
You reach into your pack and roll out your map of the area.
Hamish looks surprised at it, and at the number of markings you’ve
made already.
“Can you point out where it is, please?”
Hamish does so, and you make a little note of it.
Add The Ship (Chapter 5, L.5) to map.
Turn to S.1.9.
S.1.15
“Ido know Morag!” you say, but then realisation sinks in. “Oh.
But, her village doesn’t live there any more. They moved on... after
an attack.”
Hamish’s face falls, and you feel a deep sadness, knowing that you’re
the one who has to deliver this news.
“I dinnae know that. That’s… that’s a real shame,” he sighs. You
wonder if you should reach out and comfort him, but you feel like
perhaps you don’t know him well enough to do that. Not just yet,
anyway.
“I’m sure she’ll make contact with you again soon! She just had to
move on for now.”
He hums a note as if he isn’t sure, but manages a faint smile,
nonetheless.
“Anyway, no point dwellin’ on it now, bairn.”
No, you suppose there isn’t.
Add Resolve and Compassion to your character sheet.
Turn to S.1.9.
S.1.16
“I’d like to stay here and help out,” you tell Hamish, “if you’ll have
me.”
Hamish’s face breaks into a huge smile. He claps a hand on your
shoulder.
“We’d be happy to!” he announces, and he beckons you to follow him
so he can show you what to do.
And so, you find yourself a part in this life for a while. You’re
assigned a bed in their shared dormitory, a top bunk over the guard
who was smoking a pipe. He introduces himself as Ron, and seems
welcome to having ‘another hand on deck’. Every night he offers to
share his tobacco, but every night you politely decline. He shrugs,
says ‘suit yourself’, then lies back and hums a little shanty to himself.
It’s these shanties you find yourself bellowing on the sea when you
sail, thrusting the halyard down at the end of each line of song.
The first and main thing Hamish wanted you to do was get onboard
their little fishing ship, as you had experience battling the sea.
You’re a firm hand on the sails to guide the vessel out, and good at
heaving in a catch. Hamish names all the fish as you bring them in
each time: salmon, trout, once even a huge pike that you have to
wrestle with to get into the boat.
Usually, you put the fish on ice to keep them cold and fresh for trade,
but the pike is gutted and filleted that night, shared out with the
others for dinner. Everyone congratulates you, and you find yourself
sitting the whole night with a huge smile on your face, getting warm
blooded and rosy cheeked from the strong ale and heartfelt
compliments the group shares to toast you with.
When you’re not on the boat, you’re still very busy. Every day you
wake up, put on your fishing waders – those are what the green
overalls everyone here wears are called, according to Hamish, and
as they’re waterproof they quickly became your favourite item of
clothing – and see what there is to be done. Sometimes, you’re with
the group on land, who teach you how to prepare a fish by ripping
out its innards and scraping it clean. Other days, you find yourself
dealing with traders from inland who come to trade with your little
group for their bounty. All sorts of things are passed over – fresh
vegetables, new wooden planks and metal nails, furs from animals
you can’t identify. You realise Hamish and his group have quite a life
set up for themselves here.
But that isn’t the end of your experiences. One day, Hamish takes
you further down the coast to another one of the sites and reveals
something they’ve been hiding there: it’s a balloon. A vast balloon.
As Hamish begins the process of inflating it, he tells you, “We use it
to keep an eye on the horizon sometimes, check for any boats or
storms out over the sea. It’s quite an experience if ye haven’t done it
before, bairn.”
With only a little bit of persuading from Hamish, you’re convinced to
get into the small basket attached to the balloon. A huge flame chugs
violently above you to keep the thing airborne. You feel a bit sick as
you rise up into the air and desperately try not to look into the great
floating sack that’s keeping you in the sky.
Hamish is a master hand at this, though, and guides the aircraft out
over the water seemingly without a care in the world. The waters
are quite calm and for a moment you almost feel at ease, floating
here up above the azure sea… and then you see the shadow.
“Hamish!” you squeak, pointing a shaking finger at the shape.
“What is that?!”
Hamish squints at it before letting out a laugh.
“You’ll want to see this,” he says, lowering the balloon. “Come on.”
You protest but Hamish brings the balloon down anyway, until
you’re no more than forty feet above the water. As you go the
shadow gets bigger, more pronounced, and you realise it’s coming
towards the surface.
A great, grey head breaches the water. Smooth and running with
droplets, it’s not unlike the dolphins you saw on your way over here,
only much, much bigger. The creature keeps going with surprising
grace for something so large, its whole body coming out of the ocean
and into the air. It must be thirty-five feet long. You watch it, slack-
jawed, as it ascends, like it’s flying; yes, almost like it’s flying up to
greet you, before gracefully turning its huge blubbery body in mid-
flight and arcing back into the ocean. It hits the waves with a mighty
splash, with such force that seawater goes firing upwards away
from it. A fine spray finds its way directly into your face and you
cough wildly, having forgotten to close your mouth. Hamish laughs
at you.
“Wh-what…?!”
“A minke whale. They’re around here sometimes, but are pretty
rare. Maybe it wanted to show off, just for you,” he says with a smile
and a wink. Flabbergasted, all you can do is watch the shadow slink
away, astounded by the tiny moment of magic you caught in the face
of the whale.
That night you dream about the creature. You wonder what your
crewmates would think of it. Viktor would probably remain
unbothered, but Gaia? She’d be awestruck, just like you.
You wake with a sense of guilt. You’ve been enjoying your time here
so much, you’d completely forgotten your journey.
You tell Hamish and his group you need to leave. They seem
disappointed, but they understand. That night, you all have a drink
and a great feast of fish and scallops, before Hamish takes you to the
side.
“Here,” he says, handing you some papers. You unroll them and find
blueprints to make your own balloon. “If… when you find your
people, maybe you can make one too – and maybe we’ll spot each
other over the horizon sometime.”
You give him a hug, and the two of you go back to drinking.
The next day, at dawn, you pack your things and leave. You’ve got a
pounding headache, you shouldn’t have drunk so much beer, but
you find yourself with a new outlook on life and a spring in your
step.
You don’t see it, but miles away, the whale crests again, one great
flipper in the air, as if waving you goodbye.
END.
Add Survival (S.7) to your character sheet.
Add Balloon Blueprints (O.8) to inventory.
S.1.17
“Well,” says Hamish, mulling over the question in his
head, “we do have the balloon.”
“Balloon?” you echo.
“Aye. The big thing that goes in the sky. We use it to keep an eye out
for boats and check for storms. In fact, we may have even spotted
your little vessel out there.”
You feel odd, knowing that you might have been observed on your
way over, but you don’t say anything to object.
“If you’re interested, we can take you up in it. If you can keep a
secret, of course. We don’t want you spilling your guts about our
secrets,” says Hamish in mock-seriousness.
Turn to S.1.20, Needs The Balloon (E.21).
Otherwise – Turn to S.1.21.
S.1.18
“If it’s all the same to you,” you say to Hamish, “I think I must be on
my way now. I have people to look for.”
Hamish nods in understanding.
“Aye, they must be important to you. Come on, I’ll see you out.”
Hamish walks you to the gate with the guards. They give you a little
nod as you go on your way.
“Safe travels, bairn!” Hamish calls from behind you. You wave as you
go, but you don’t bother to look back again at the little farm.
You’ve got so much further to go.
END.
S.1.19
You’ve seen enough of these balloons to know what they can do. It
isn’t that you don’t trust Hamish, so much as that you don’t trust the
rickety aircraft. It feels unnatural to be up in the air like that. And
what if raiders spot you bobbing along above the skyline? You’re
basically asking for a fight.
You shake your head and Hamish shrugs.
“All right then, suit yourself. I won’t force ye into anything ye don’t
want to do.”
You feel a weight off your chest at the fact you’ll stay on terra firma.
You’re glad you stood your ground.
Turn to S.1.18.
S.1.20
“I’m not sure,” you say, cautiously.
“Why?”
“I’ve seen raiding groups use these before. They seem…
dangerous,” you tell Hamish, thinking back on your bad memories
with the devices. Hamish sighs.
“I won’t tell ye that there aren’t people who’d use ’em for mischief.
But I promise, our lot isn’t like that. If you come with me I bet you
won’t regret it. A once-in-a-lifetime experience.”
Go up – Turn to S.1.21a.
Refuse – Turn to S.1.19.
S.1.21
“Iwon’t tell,” you say excitedly, spurred on by the idea of adventure.
Hamish nods, keeping up his charade of seriousness, before bursting
out laughing.
“Well, come on then, bairn – let’s go take flight.”
Hamish leads you out of the camp and down the coast. It’s a bit of a
walk, but he tells you he’s taking you to another one of his group’s
sites. They don’t keep everything together in the same place, just in
case someone comes with malicious intent.
“Has… has that happened before?” you ask. You see the dark look on
his face. It’s surprising, after he’s been so jovial, and you decide to
bite your tongue to keep from any more questions.
Eventually, you spot another little hut in the distance. Hamish leads
you inside and gestures to a huge sack of some sort of plastic cloth
on the floor. Between the two of you, you drag it out into the open
and begin to inflate it.
It really is huge. At least the size of a house, anyway. You can only
watch in amazement as it inflates and consumes your vision.
“Come on,” says Hamish, “jump in.”
You see a little basket at the bottom of the great balloon, made of
wicker or wood, and cautiously step inside.
Hamish is a master hand at controlling the thing and soon takes you
out over the ocean. It’s incredible. The wind whips your hair and
stings your face, but you don’t care. You’re flying, flying over the
open water! This must be what birds feel like, you think. The
albatrosses who take wing and ride the currents across the sea.
And then, you see the shadow.
Hamish squints at it before letting out a laugh.
You protest, but Hamish brings the balloon down anyway, until
droplets, it’s not unlike the dolphins you saw on your way over here,
and into the air. It must be thirty-five feet long. You watch it, slack-
jawed, as it ascends, like it’s flying; yes, almost like it’s flying up to
greet you, before gracefully turning its huge blubbery body in mid-
flight and arcing back into the ocean. It hits the waves with a mighty
splash, with such force that seawater goes firing upwards away
from it. A fine spray finds its way directly into your face and you
cough wildly, having forgotten to close your mouth. Hamish laughs
at you.
“Wh-what…?!”
rare. Maybe it wanted to show off, just for you,” he says with a smile
away, astounded by the tiny moment of magic you caught in the face
of the whale.
Hamish guides you back to shore and you’re mesmerised the whole
time, unable to say a word that doesn’t culminate in a squeak.
It’s like the beast hypnotised you with its surprising elegance. You
follow Hamish back to the camp and at first don’t even realise he’s
trying to give you something.
“They’re blueprints, for the balloon,” he tells you. “Maybe one day
you can make your own, and see your whale again.”
“Thank you,” you tell him genuinely, placing them into your pack.
Add Balloon Blueprints (O.8) to your inventory.
Turn to S.1.18.
S.1.21A
“All right,” you say cautiously, “I’ll come with you. But no funny
business!”
Hamish chuckles. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Cross my heart.”
You follow Hamish out of the camp and down the shoreline, an
obedient and quiet companion. You’re still a bit nervous, but he
doesn’t seem like he has any wicked plans to rob you of all your
worldly possessions. He just seems like an excited old man who’s
glad to be spending the day with someone new.
Eventually, you spot a little hut in the distance. Hamish leads you
inside and gestures to a huge sack of some sort of plastic cloth on
the floor. Between the two of you, you drag it out into the open and
Hamish begins to inflate it.
It really is huge. Far bigger than any building on the farm. You can
only watch in amazement as it inflates and consumes your vision.
“Come on,” says Hamish, “jump in.”
You see a little basket at the bottom of the great balloon, made of
wicker or wood, and cautiously step inside.
Hamish, it seems, is a master hand at controlling the thing, and soon
takes you out over the ocean. It’s incredible. The wind whips at your
hair and stings your face, but you don’t care. You’re flying, flying
over the open water! This must be what birds feel like, you think. As
much as you hate to admit it, you can see why the raiders are so
attached to the things. Not just because of their tactical use… but
because it’s exhilarating to ride one.
And then, you see the shadow.
Maybe the old man really has tricked you, taken you out here to play
some sort of horrid joke… but Hamish only squints at the shape
before letting out a laugh.
You protest, but Hamish brings the balloon down anyway, until
droplets. It’s not unlike the dolphins you saw on your way over here,
and into the air. It must be thirty-five feet long.
You watch it, slack-jawed, as it ascends, like it’s flying; yes, almost
like it’s flying up to greet you, before gracefully turning its huge,
blubbery body in mid-flight and arcing back into the ocean. It hits
the waves with a mighty splash, with such force that seawater goes
firing upwards away from it. A fine spray finds its way directly
into your face and you cough wildly, having forgotten to close your
mouth. Hamish laughs at you.
“Wh-what…?!”
rare. Maybe it wanted to show off just for you,” he says with a smile
away, astounded by the tiny moment of magic you just experienced.
Hamish guides you back to shore and you’re mesmerised the whole
time, unable to say a word that doesn’t culminate in a squeak.
It’s like the beast hypnotised you with its surprising elegance. You
follow Hamish back to the camp and at first don’t even realise he’s
trying to give you something.
“Blueprints, for the balloon,” he tells you. “Maybe one day you can
make your own and use it for good. Finally stand up against the
raiders.”
“Thank you,” you tell him genuinely, placing them into your pack.
Add Balloon Blueprints (O.8) to inventory.
Turn to S.1.18.
S.2
THE CULT
S.2.1
The thing that surprises you most about this land, you decide, is the
sheer scale of some of the buildings.
Back when you were a child you’d always thought of the vault as
massive. A huge, sprawling labyrinth of labs and workrooms. More
than once you’d got lost, and had to have kind citizens take pity on
you and bring you back home.
You remember someone telling you that the highest the population
had ever been in the vault was one thousand three hundred. That
number had stuck with you then, ‘thirteen hundred’, because of
course one of the traditions that had followed you all down was that
thirteen was an unlucky number. You hadn’t slept properly for a
week after that, not until a teacher pulled you aside after you’d
nodded off one too many times in class and explained what
superstition was.
Not even one and a half thousand. That was the most people you’d
ever been around.
So it makes you stand stock-still when you see the sign that
announces this place can seat over twenty thousand .
It’s a number you can’t quite fathom in your head. It’s… what?
Fifteen times what the vault held?
You try to picture your little underground town fifteen times over,
but your imagination comes up short.
It’s strange, the rest of the sign worn away by age and weather, but
the capacity remains legible. That, and the word ‘stadium’. As if it
still wants to boast about its accomplishments.
You push the thought to the back of your mind and instead
concentrate on the building before you. From what you can see it’s a
massive rectangle, hundreds of feet long, with several entrances all
along the side. Dotted at every single one of them are people on
guard. They stand in pairs, conversing quietly. Even from this far
away you can tell they are all dressed similarly, white shirts and
pale trousers with a dark brown cloak over them. It’s exceptionally
windy outside, but none of them seem to feel the cold, or, if they do,
they don’t react to it.
In somewhere this big, could someone have spotted your lost
colleagues?
It might be worth a go, even if you have some trepidation about
going into this place. Something about it doesn't feel… right.
Maybe it’s just because you’ve been thinking about the number
thirteen for too long and you’ve spooked yourself. Again. You try to
ignore your thoughts and instead head towards the nearest pair of
guards.
As soon as they notice you, they stand up straight and put matching
smiles on their faces. It’s unsettling how quickly they can do so, and
how alike they are. As you get closer, you notice that under their
hoods, neither of them have any hair.
“Greetings, friend,” one of them calls out, holding out his arms
welcomingly.
“Hello,” you reply, tentatively, scanning him for any weapons. He
appears to be unarmed. The stranger heads towards you and settles
a hand on each of your shoulders. He’s all of a sudden very close,

and from here you can see how pale his skin is. You can map out all
of the veins underneath it, like eels not quite hidden below ice.
“You must be weary. Tell me friend, have you come to join our
family?”
His smile doesn’t falter. You can’t look away from his gaze.
Tell him no – Turn to S.2.2.
Tell him yes – Turn to S.2.3.
S.2.2
“Oh,” says the man, disappointment flickering over his face, but not
dropping his grin. “Well, that is sad news.
But please, friend, do come inside for comfort and food, come and
have a look around our humble village – perhaps you’ll change your
mind.”
You doubt it, you already have a family, a home, to get back to, but
you let yourself be ushered inside anyway. The man leads you
through the door and into a dark passage.
It isn’t dark for long.
It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust as you feel like you’ve been
led into the inside of a neon light bulb, but what you’re actually
seeing soon dawns on you and stops you dead in your tracks.
The corridor you’re being brought through has been lit up with
bright green paint. It glows brightly either side of you in impossibly
intricate patterns and swirls, from the floor to the ceiling. You can
only stand and gape for a moment at the sheer artistry of it all.
Your guide notices you aren’t following him and turns to check on
you, his smile widening as he sees your reaction.
“Glorious, isn’t it? My own father worked on this corridor.”
“You… your family made this?”
“Oh yes. Well, partly. All our families do. It’s part of our tradition,”
he tells you sagely.
He reaches out a hand and gently brushes his fingertips over the
paint. He seems solemn for a moment, the least cheerful he’s been in
your brief meeting. But quickly he regains himself and turns back to
you with a newly reapplied smile.
“Come now, we’ve further to go.”
You continue down the corridor of beautiful, surreal art until you
emerge into the sunlight again. It seems almost a shame to leave it,
you think. It was quite unlike anything you’d ever seen in your life.
The area inside is just as vast as you thought it would be. At least
three hundred feet across and lined with thousands of what appear
to be red chairs. It’s impossible to tell what it used to be used for,
though, as you’re met with a village worth of tents and ramshackle
huts that have been erected almost immediately after the corridor
ends.
People flit about in between the little buildings. All of them are
wearing the same clothes as your guide. And all of them look gaunt,
and thin, and hollow. And, strangely, all of them seem to be covered
with the same luminous paint you just passed in the corridor.
It doesn’t take a doctor for you to realise that these people are sick.
“Welcome to Prie,” your companion pipes up from beside you. He
seems proud of the place, as if he hasn’t noticed anyone looks unwell
at all.
Ask to look around – Turn to S.2.4.
Ask to see who’s in charge – Turn to S.2.5.
S.2.3
“Sure,” you say at length. The man claps his hands
together in delight and grabs you by the arm, ushering you inside
one of the huge entrances.
“I’m so glad!” he exclaims, putting an arm around your back and
guiding you in towards the darkness behind the doors.
It isn’t that way for long.
It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, and you feel like you’ve
been led into the inside of a neon light bulb, but what you’re actually
seeing soon dawns on you and stops you dead.
The corridor you’re being brought through has been lit up with
bright green paint. It glows brightly on either side of you in
impossibly intricate patterns and swirls, from the floor to the
ceiling. You can only stand and gape for a moment at the sheer
artistry of it.
Your guide notices you aren’t following him and turns to check on
you, smiling even further as he sees your reaction.
“Glorious, isn’t it? My own father worked on this corridor.”
“You… your family made this?”
“Oh yes. Well, partly. All our families do. It’s part of our tradition,”
he tells you sagely.
He reaches out a hand and gently brushes his fingertips over the
paint. He seems solemn for a moment, the least cheerful he’s been in
your brief meeting. But, quickly, he regains himself and turns back
to you with a newly reapplied smile.
“Come now, we’ve further to go.”
You continue down the corridor of beautiful, surreal art until you
emerge into the sunlight again. It seems almost a shame to leave it
now, you think. It was quite unlike anything you’d ever seen in your
life.
The area inside is just as vast as you thought it would be. At least
three hundred feet across and lined with thousands of what appear
to be red chairs. It’s impossible to tell what it used to be for, as
you’re met with a village worth of tents and ramshackle huts that
have been erected almost immediately after the corridor ends.
There are people flitting between them who look up towards you,
giving you smiles like your host, only not quite as natural, almost
strained. They’re all dressed in exactly the same way as the man
who’s guiding you along, but none of them look particularly healthy;
they all have sallow and thin faces. And, strangely, all of them seem
to be covered with the same luminous paint you just passed in the
corridor. You don’t have the chance to stop and study them for long,
as he seems quite insistent on bringing you through the crowd.
“This is Prie, our home,” he tells you cheerfully, picking through the
makeshift streets as carefully as he can.
“It’s… lovely,” you tell him, choosing your words carefully. You hope
he doesn’t pick up on the hesitation in your voice. Really, the place
could use some work. The tents people seem to be living in have
been patched and repatched so many times you wonder if there’s
any of the original canvas actually left. You can’t imagine they do a
brilliant job at keeping out the rain. Even the ‘solid’ huts don’t
seem to be doing much better, a lot of them drooping or crumbling
inwards because of rusted corrugated roofs or rotted wooden
planks.
Your observations are cut short as you’re brought inside a slightly
larger building. It’s dark and dingy inside, and you can see that the
walls are lined with tall shelves, all tightly packed with piles of
clothes.
“What size waist are you?” asks your companion.
“Er…” you say, not entirely sure what he’s asking. The vault just sort
of supplied you with clothes when you needed them, mostly hand-
me-downs that were usually a bit too big. The man hums as he looks
you over before grabbing a couple of garments from various shelves
and bringing them over to you.
“Here, get changed, and I’ll bring you to Lux when you’re ready.”
He turns and then just waits.
The idea of changing clothes right here doesn’t particularly appeal to
you, not in this draughty, holey construction with a stranger so
nearby, but it seems like there’s nowhere else to change. Your guide
genuinely doesn’t seem interested in watching you, so you strip your
clothes off carefully and fold them away into your pack before
dressing in what’s been handed to you.
The shirt is scratchy against your skin and the trousers are thin and
won’t do you any good against the heavier elements. The cloak at
least is a little heavier, probably some kind of wool, but it seems
some type of animal had got to it, as there are a lot of small, circular
bites munched out of the fabric.
“Done,” you say, eventually, and the man claps his hands together in
glee when he sees you.
“Wonderful! Just wonderful. Come now, Lux will be excited to meet
you.”
Once again, you’re brought out to the cold and guided through even
more narrow streets. You can at least tell where you’re being taken
this time, as you can now see that all of these little structures give
way to a much larger and grander-looking hut. It’s more of a
bungalow, really, with a sturdy frame and actual bricks in its walls.
Your guide knocks on the door and waits for a moment. From the
other side of the heavy wood, you hear, “Enter.”
He pushes it open and gestures for you to go first.
The smell inside is almost overpowering. There are dozens of
candles lighting up the room, and where there aren’t candles, there
are little dishes of incense burning away into noxiously sweet
smoke.
Much like the corridor the walls of this room have been painted with
exquisitely detailed, glowing paint.
In the middle of it all, on a large cushion, sits an older man. He’s
bald, like everyone else you’ve seen here, but his hairless scalp has
been decorated in the same bright green patterns that mark the
walls. It’s almost enough to distract you from how pale and drawn
he looks.
He smiles at you and gets to his feet.
“What’s this, my son? Have you brought a new child into our
bosom?”
You stifle a laugh at the phrase as your guide nods eagerly.
“Yes, Lux. They said they were interested in joining us. They were
dressed like a traveller – from the overseas.”
“That is good news. Go in peace, my child, I shall handle them from
here.”
Your guide dips his head in a little bow of respect, flashes you a
parting smile, and leaves. You feel a bit uncomfortable without him
there. There’s something stifling about this place, about this man
you’ve been left with.
“Welcome, my friend,” he says, with one of those oddly uniform

smiles plastered on his face. “Please, feel free to ask me any
questions you have about our little village… or about this great land
in general, if you are indeed a stranger from across the ocean. I’m
lucky to come from a line of archivists who kept track of the local
area, from both before and after the war, so I can help you with
whatever information you require. Whatever I can do to make you
feel at home.”
You don’t think anything could make you feel at home here, but you
answer anyway.
“And then I can… join your group here?”
He smiles a tight-lipped smile. “Well, once you’ve proved yourself to
us.”
Add Prie Robes (O.25) to your inventory.
Ask him to tell you more about the village – Turn to S.2.6.
Ask him what proving yourself means – Turn to S.2.7.
Ask him about the powerplant papers –Turn to S.2.8, Needs Power
Plant Files
S.2.4
“Do you mind if I look around your… lovely village?” you ask, picking
your words carefully. To your surprise, he nods with fervour.
“Of course. We are all family here, so if you get lost, or need a
question answered, feel free to ask any one of us.”
He smiles and leaves you to your business, his words echoing
around your head. Somehow you can’t help but think that what he
means by we are all family here is really there’s always somebody
watching you.
Nevertheless, you walk towards one of the little pathways between
the tents to take a look around.
Though they greet you with smiles, the villagers here are clearly not
well. Up close, you can see how thin they are, how many bruises
litter their arms and faces. Some of them look like skin just barely
stretched over a skull, and it doesn’t help that all of them are bald.
When they force themselves into cheerful masks, any intended
comfort is completely negated by the way you can see all of the
muscles in their face contort and move so obviously.
They mostly seem to be keeping to themselves, but a few people are
gathered in groups. You stop to watch one such party and see
that they are gently painting on each other’s heads and arms in
twisting and delicate patterns, like some sort of ritual. It would look
quite beautiful if what they were using wasn’t the same glowing
green paint as the corridor.
People dip little paint brushes into their mouths, swirl them into a
fine point on their tongue, then dip the instrument into the green
paint in order to decorate a tiny portion of their companion’s skin
before doing the whole thing again. Over and over, it must take
hundreds of times to cover someone’s head completely.
You hear a loud cry from behind you. You jump in surprise, both
because of the volume and in recognition. You’re not sure if you’ve
heard a baby since leaving the vault.
You turn away from the decorating and head towards the cries.
There’s a cot set up just inside a hut, which has only three walls, the
fourth one having rotted away. You peer down with a prepared
smile on your face.
It’s quickly dropped in your astonishment.
The baby, while clearly having a healthy set of lungs, has two tiny,
stunted legs, which it waves uselessly in the air. You stare at it for a
moment before it’s snatched up, the baby’s mother glaring at you in
the first unfriendly action you’ve seen since you arrived here, and
squirrelling her child out of your sight.
At least there’s some semblance of normality being hidden under
everyone’s plastered-on smiles. But something is definitely not right
under the surface here. What’s going on?
Ask a villager – Turn to S.2.9.
Try to sneak around – Turn to S.2.10.
Do some of your own investigating – Turn to S.2.11, Needs
Chemistry.
S.2.5
“Of course,” your guide tells you cheerfully, and leads you down yet
another snaking alley. All of these buildings are packed so tightly
together you’re
beginning to feel claustrophobic.
You can at least tell where you’re being taken to this time, as you can
see that all of these little structures give way to a much larger and
grander-looking hut. It’s more of a bungalow, really, with a sturdy
frame and actual bricks in its walls.
Your guide knocks on the door and waits for a moment. From the
other side of the heavy wood you hear, “Enter.”
He pushes it open and gestures for you to go first.
candles lighting up the room, and where there aren’t candles there
smoke.
Much like the corridor, the walls of this room have been painted
with exquisitely detailed, glowing paint.
also been decorated with bright green patterns. It’s almost enough
to distract you from how pale and drawn he looks.

“What’s this, my son? Have you brought a new child into our
bosom?”
You try to downplay your laughter at the turn of phrase and disguise
it as a cough. Your companion doesn’t seem to notice and merely
shakes his head.
“No, Lux, our new friend isn’t sure about joining us. But, they did ask
to see you, so perhaps you can answer some of their queries? I
believe from their original garb, they came from overseas.”
Lux looks a little disappointed but nods his understanding anyway.
“Very well. Thank you for bringing them here. Go in peace, my child.”
Your guide dips his head in a little bow of respect, flashes you a
parting smile, and leaves. You feel a bit uncomfortable without him
there. There’s something stifling about this place, about this man
you’ve been left with.
“Welcome, my friend,” he says, with one of those oddly uniform
smiles plastered on his face. “Please, feel free to ask me any
in general, if you are indeed a stranger from across the ocean. I’m
area from both before and after the war, so I can help you with
feel at home. Of course, any more… sensitive information I’ll have to
ask you to prove yourself to our cause before I divulge.”
Ask him to tell you more about the village – Turn to S.2.6
Ask him what proving yourself means – Turn to S.2.7
Ask him about the powerplant papers – Turn to S.2.8, Needs Power
Plant Files.
S.2.5A
Something odd is happening here, and you need to work out what it
is. It’s probably best to find out who’s in charge.
It takes you a bit of hunting, but soon you find that all of these little
structures give way to a much larger and grander-looking hut. It’s
more of a bungalow really, with a sturdy frame and actual bricks in
its walls.
If anybody powerful is living in this place, it’s going to be here.
You head up to the building and knock. After a moment a voice calls
for you to enter.
candles lighting up the room, and where there aren’t candles, there
smoke.
Much like the corridor, the walls of this room have been painted
with exquisitely detailed, glowing paint.
been decorated in the same bright green patterns as the hallway. It’s
almost enough to distract you from how pale and drawn he looks.
“Hello, friend. You must be new to our humble village. If I’m not
mistaken, your clothes mark you as being from a vault, am I
correct?”
“Yes,” you say, eyeing him warily. He doesn’t seem fazed by you,
you’ll give him that. And he seems knowledgeable.
“Well, traveller, my name is Lux. Please, feel free to ask me any
in general, as it is quite different from where you come from. I’m
area from both before and after the war so I can help you with
feel at home. Of course, any more… sensitive information I’ll have to
ask you to prove yourself to our cause before I divulge.”
Plant Files.
S.2.6
“Ah, of course. Well, as you can tell our home here used to be a
stadium of sorts, where people would gather before the war and
watch entertainment en masse.
However, when the first bombs began to fall there wasn’t time for
that sort of frivolity. The government took it over and used it as a
makeshift military area where they stockpiled a lot of potentially
useful radioactive material.
“My grandfather moved here when we were done bombing
ourselves into the ground. He and the ancestors of our little group
came together and salvaged this place. It was big enough for us to
build Prie, but walled away from outsiders. We’ve been on missions
ever since to recover what other irradiated items we can. Did you
know, way back before the war, in ancient medical textbooks, they
believed radiation could make you stronger? That’s what
grandfather believed, too. We’ll get stronger with its help and
protection, and if there’s another war, we’ll thrive through it
instead.”
He seems pleased that you’ve asked the question, but what he’s told
you seems unsettling. Getting stronger through radiation? You can’t
think of any doctor back in the vault that would tell you that.
Even more worryingly, it seems like he’s had this all rehearsed.
As if he’s written it down and went over it again and again until it
flowed naturally, repeating it without thinking. You wonder if he’s
ever thought about this ‘truth’ that he holds so dear to him at all, or
if he’s just blindly following what his father and grandfather were.
Plant Files.
Ask to leave – Turn to S.2.12.
S.2.7
“Follow me,” Lux says, and heads off towards the back of the room.
Any other time you’d be getting annoyed at the amount of traipsing
along after people you’ve been doing, but at the moment your
anxiety about the extreme oddness of the situation is what’s
consuming you. Part of you, a large part, doesn’t want to follow Lux
any further, but you’re driven forward by curiosity.
He leads you through the building and suddenly downwards into
what must be a basement beneath the stadium. A patch has been
dug out of the ground itself and lined with concrete for sturdiness.
You can probably blame the Old World for its construction, but the
electric lights in the walls have long since burned out and been
replaced with the luminous green paint you’ve seen all around this
place. You shiver, and wonder if it’s because of the coldness of the
earth or the unsettledness you’re feeling,
Lux eventually stops as the thin staircase opens out into a room.
Here you can definitely see the marks of the Old World. Heavy metal
beams run along the roof to keep it from falling in on itself under the
weight of the ground above it, but the most striking thing is the door
in front of you. It’s ten feet across, made of thick steel and locked
with a complex wheel, and there’s a smashed keypad beside it. It
looks like, in its heyday, nobody would get in there without the
correct code. But today, instead of entering a code, Lux heads
straight to the wheel holding the door closed and struggles with
turning it.
Even though you may not know the ins and outs of this place like the
villagers of Prie, you’re smart enough to recognise that the bright
yellow and red signs around the outside of the massive, foreboding
door can’t be anything but warnings. Another chill runs through
you; this time, you know its cause.
Read signs – Turn to S.2.13, Needs Old World Language.
Decipher pictures on signs – Turn to S.2.14, Needs Chemistry OR
Medicine.
Ask Lux about the signs – Turn to S.2.15.
Follow Lux without question – Turn to S.2.16.
S.2.8
“Do you know anything about these?” you ask, giving Lux the papers
you found back at the powerplant. If he knows so much about the
Old World, he may be able
to give you some insight.
He raises his eyebrows upon seeing them, and leafs through the
papers thoroughly, leaving no sheet unturned in his inspection. “You
got these from the powerplant?”
You nod, and he hums sagely.
“Yes, I thought as much. These are recording radiation output levels
back from before the war. Do you mind if I keep these?”
You have no reason to hold on to them, so you nod. He tucks them
away somewhere deep in his robe.
“Please, let me repay you for your kindness. Take this as a little
memento of our business.”
He walks over to one of the incense burners, blows out the tiny
smouldering flame, and hands you the stick and the tray. You’re not
entirely sure what to do with it but tuck it away in your pack
anyway.
Maybe you can light it up one night to cover the smell of mud and
dirt from the outside – if the smell of it doesn’t remind you too
harshly of this strange little village.

Add Incense (F.30) to your inventory.
Ask him about the village – Turn to S.2.6.
Ask to leave – Turn to S.2.12.
S.2.9
Probably best to hear it from the horse’s mouth.
A woman sits in the opening of one of the little ramshackle tents.
She, like some of the other villagers you’ve passed, is licking a brush
into a tiny point and illustrating the back of her hand with the bright
green paint. She looks up when she notices you, pausing with the
brush over her hand. Her face is friendly, but her eyes are sunken
into her skull, and you can see the shape of her eye sockets.
“Good morning,” she says, her voice quiet and scratchy, as if there’s
an itch in her throat that she can’t quite get out.
“Hello,” you say, perching on a stool nearby to get down to her level,
not wanting her to be intimidated by a stranger looming over her,
“I’m new around here. I was wondering if you could tell me why
you’re all using that paint?”
She pokes out a sickly pink tongue and dabs the brush against it
again.
“It makes us stronger,” she tells you. “That’s what Lux says.”
“Who’s Lux?”
“He’s in charge.”
“How does it make you stronger?”
She pauses as she thinks before giving up in a shrug and going back
to her artwork. Frustratingly, you don’t think you’ll be getting any
more out of her.
Try to sneak around – Turn to S.2.10.
Find Lux – Turn to S.2.5a.
Do some investigating – Turn to S.2.11, Needs Chemistry.
S.2.10
Incognito is the best way of getting around this place, you decide.
And it’s going to be easier to do here than any other place because of
the uniforms everyone is wearing.
A man removes his cloak as he leans over the back of a chair to get
his back painted. It’s easy enough to snatch it and put it on as you
quickly walk past the small group.
The cloak gives you a little bit of reassurance, even if it’s just in
possible anonymity. The people in the village don’t seem to want to
look at you too hard anyway, and now they completely ignore you.
You’re glad of it – you don’t want to be watched.
That is, until you feel a hand on your shoulder.
You jump and turn around. Rather than being met with hostility,
though, you’re greeted with a smile from a bald man with luminous
paint on his bald head.
“You aren’t from here, are you?” he asks.
“I, erm—” you flounder, but he gestures to your trousers.
“You’re not wearing the proper uniform.”
Damn it.
“It’s all right,” he says quickly, trying to calm you, “you don’t need to
sneak around here. I’m happy to show you around the place. I’m
Lux, the leader of Prie. Come, I’ll bring you to my home.”

You don’t have much of a chance to object as he ushers you through
the streets and towards the largest building in the village.
The other villagers smile and nod with deference to the two of you.
Clearly, Lux is well respected around here.
When he opens the door to the building, the smell inside is almost
overpowering. There are dozens of candles lighting up the room,
and where there aren’t candles, there are little dishes of incense
burning away into noxiously sweet smoke. Much like the corridor
you went through as you entered, the walls of this room have been
painted with exquisitely detailed, glowing paint. Lux turns to you
with a smile as he takes a seat on a pile of pillows in the middle of
the room.
“Well, traveller, it’s good to have you here. Please, feel free to ask me
any questions you have about our little village… or about this great
land in general, if you are as I suspect a stranger from across the
ocean. I’m lucky to come from a line of archivists who kept track of
the local area from both before and after the war, so I can help you
with whatever information you require. Whatever I can do to make
you feel at home. Of course, any more… sensitive information I’ll
have to ask you to prove yourself to our cause before I divulge.”
Plant Files.
S.2.11
For the first time in a while, you root through your pack for your
Geiger counter and turn it on. Something doesn’t feel right here, and
you’re going to follow your gut.
The second it’s active, it immediately goes mad.
High radiation levels. Dangerously so. The little machine is
screaming at you to get out, get away, to not be here without
adequate protection on.
Villagers look at the odd noise coming from the counter, and you
meet their eyes desperately. This place isn’t safe for them to be – do
they know? If not, they have to get out of here now. The longer they
stick around, the more likely it is they’re going to get very sick.
Try to warn people – Turn to S.2.19.
S.2.12
“I’m going to leave now,” you tell Lux, thoroughly unsettled by
everything that you’ve heard so far. A look sweeps across his face,
one which he isn’t quick enough to catch and plaster his smile over.
It’s somewhere between surprise and anger.
“Oh, are you sure? I could always tell you more about—”
“No. I’m fine, thank you.”
He furrows his brow, stepping towards you.
“But you don’t know anything about our village, not really. Please,
just sit down and—”
“I said no, ” you snap, stepping back from him. Before he can say
– or do – anything else, you turn on your heel and leave. You have a
one-track mind now. You’re going to get the hell out of this place
before anything can get any weirder.
Turn to S.2.17.
S.2.13
The signs aren’t detailed, but they don’t have to be. Pretty much
every single one of them says something of the same variation.
Hazmat suit required.
Do not enter unless properly protected.
SERIOUS RISK OF EXPOSURE TO RADIATION.
These, coupled with the pictures on the signs depicting exclamation
marks and skulls, do not fill you with confidence.
“These signs say it’s dangerous to go in there,” you tell Lux. His
hands are still on the door’s wheel before he casts you a look over
his shoulder.
“It’s perfectly safe,” he replies. With a grunt he goes back to trying to
open the lock.
Somehow, you’re not sure.
To continue – Turn to S.2.16.
To leave – Turn to S.2.12.
S.2.14
You’ve seen symbols like these before. In the textbooks you were
studying to learn your trade. Every single one of them screams
danger! From the radioactive trefoils to the bright-red ionising
warnings.
“I don’t think we should go in without proper protection,” you say,
nervously. Lux throws a look at you over his shoulder, one that
doesn’t meet your eyes but tells you he can’t be bothered with this.
“We’ll be fine,” he says.
If you want to follow him, you’ll have to trust what he’s told you is
true.
S.2.15
“What do all these signs mean?” you ask, letting your
eyes wander over them, taking in the words and symbols you can
make neither head nor tail of.
“They were here when we moved in,” Lux replies, straining to open
the door. “They’re irrelevant.”
“Then why haven’t you covered them up, or got rid of them?”
He doesn’t reply; it’s more worrying than if he had.
Add Resolve and Instability to your character sheet.
S.2.16
After some time having a small fight with the locking wheel, Lux
manages to force it open. The smell of mildew hits you as the door
swings open. He smiles and walks inside, telling you to follow him.
The vault is dark, only illuminated by a couple of candles Lux is
going around and lighting. This place clearly used to hold a lot more
items of value; only about a quarter of it is filled now. Odd cubes and
rectangles of grey material sit stacked neatly in rows on one side,
either sitting freely or boxed in strong containers, with huge pots of
paint on the other side.
Paint you recognise.
“Is this—”
“Radium paint,” Lux tells you, hauling a pot off of a shelf and turning
to you. “It’s part of what we collect here. It’s very powerful, and can
only make us stronger.”
He reaches into his robes and pulls out a fine paintbrush.
“To prove your commitment to Prie, you must do two things. Be
painted yourself and paint somebody in turn.” Realisation begins
dawning on your face, but he continues, oblivious, “Of course, you
must make sure the paintbrush stays at a point after every stroke.”
To demonstrate, he licks the top of the brush into a fine point.

“So I have to do that—”
“Even when it’s been dipped.”
He wants you to ingest this stuff. He wants you to eat it.
Tell him no – Turn to S.2.20.
Tell him yes – Turn to S.2.21.
S.2.17
You hurry through the streets of Prie. People stare at you as you go,
confusion painting their faces as clearly as green patterns paint their
bodies. You don’t want to know any more about this horrible little
village in this stadium. Your people aren’t here, and you want to
leave.
You stride through the same corridor the guard showed you in
through not so long ago. He catches sight of you as you head towards
the doors, and goes to call out to you but you shoulder past him,
ignoring his calls and questions.
It’s no great loss to never see this place again.
END.
S.2.18
You leave Prie to the sound of cheers and claps on the back from the
sick-looking villagers. They seem glad to have you as part of their
‘family’. You’re not sure if swallowing all that paint was worth it.
Looking into the sunken eyes of a frail citizen, you fear your future
self will end up looking exactly like them.
“Remember,” says Lux as you leave, “spread the good news! Tell
people to come here and join us. We are stronger together.”
You certainly don’t feel stronger as you stumble out of the stadium.
In fact, you run to a nearby shrub to empty the contents of your
stomach behind.
Either way, the choice has been made for you now. You’re a part of
Prie.
END.
S.2.19
“You need to leave,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as
you speak. Nobody notices you at first; instead they continue with
the hustle and bustle of everyday life. You have to speak again, and
again, and again for them to even begin to pay attention to you.
“You need to leave! It’s not safe here!”
A few villagers of Prie turn to you with confusion painting their
faces along with the bright green. A couple of them look concerned,
but less with your warning and more with the level of panic you’re
displaying.
“It’s not safe! Everyone needs to evacuate the building immediately!
You’re sick and you’ll only get sicker the longer you stay here!”
People are actively listening to your ranting now, stopping and
staring at you in the narrow street. You run forward and grab the
nearest watcher, a woman whose wrists are so bony your fingers
easily wrap around their circumference, and try to tug her with you.
She looks frightened at first, but after a moment yanks her arm from
your grip with more strength than you thought someone so frail was
capable of possessing.
“No, you have to…” you begin saying after her as she retreats, but
you’re interrupted when you feel strong hands on your shoulders.
Either side of you is a member of the village, but bigger than most of
their counterparts. Wordlessly, they begin to drag you away from
the group of spectators and out through one of the decorated
corridors.
You struggle against them, but they hold fast. All you can do is
scream your warnings as you’re taken away from the stadium and
thrown out on your behind. The doors are shut in your face and the
guards step in front of them. You’re not getting back in there.
Hope drains from your body like grieving tears as you realise, with a
heavy weight in your soul, that all those people will die.
And there’s nothing you can do, except try to make sure you aren’t
one of them.
You struggle to your feet and, with a parting glance at the guards,
walk away, hoping your group never comes across this cursed place.
END.
S.2.20
“Idon’t know about this,” you say, stepping backwards. You don’t
watch where you’re going and end up bumping into one of the
shelves. A tin of paint falls down and splatters open, spreading a
bright green lake on the floor. You hop back even further away from
it, not bothering to hide the look of concern on your face. Lux
follows you, stepping through the mess without any bother, coming
closer to you. Too close.
“You’ll be fine. Trust me. Why would I lie to you?”
You can think of a list of reasons why as long as your arm, but you
don’t feel like standing around and explaining them all to him.
“Look, I’m going to leave. I think it’s best if…”
Lux reaches out and grabs your arm. For such a frail-looking man,
there’s a lot of strength in him. You can feel his bony fingers digging
into you, even through your robes.
“I think you should stay,” he tells you, and there’s a malice in his
voice. It worries you slightly, but unfortunately it doesn’t surprise
you.
You knew he was too positive to be genuine.
Shove him off and run – Turn to S.2.23.
Grab a box of radium and run – Turn to S.2.22.
S.2.21
“All right,” you say at length. Part of you is screaming that this is a
horrible idea, but you push it deep down and try to drown it out
with the loud reasoning that it could be helpful for you to have these
people on your side, and this seems to be the only way to do it. You
take the paint and brush from Lux as he sits with a gleeful smile on
his face.
“Here, use my arm as a canvas. Just paint whatever comes to you,”
he instructs. You stick out your tongue and nervously wet it to a
point, dipping it into the paint and beginning.
You’re not the best artist, and your hands are shaking wildly, but
you try to emulate what you saw the other people wearing. Flowing,
swirling lines wrapping all around his forearm. You barely even
notice the faint tang on your tongue as you keep touching it to your
brush. By the time you’re done, you’ve definitely begun to feel sick
and dizzy. You sit down heavily as Lux inspects your work with a
nod.
“Not bad for a beginner. Here, let me paint you as well. Lift up your
shirt.”
Too nauseous to argue, you take off your pack and hitch up the back
of your coat and shirt. On your back, you feel Lux work the
brush like a maestro across the plains of your skin, intricate and
precise in his art. Part of you is disappointed you can’t see the end
result, but you know as soon as you leave here you’re getting this
paint off of you as soon as you can.
It’s hard to tell how much time passes, but eventually Lux lets out a
hum of appreciation and stands back.
“Beautiful. Just beautiful. Welcome to our family, traveller. You’re
now a part of Prie.”
He walks around to your front as you stand up and rifles through his
pocket before bringing out a tiny metal badge, affixing it to the front
of your coat while you rearrange your clothes and possessions.
“This will show you’re one of us to everybody out there. It’s an old
military pin from my grandfather’s collection; we give them to all
our important faithful. You have to go and spread the good word of
our group, do you understand?”
You nod and hold back your vomit. You feel like this was a terrible
idea.
Add Military Pin (O.26) to your inventory.
Add Irradiated (P.3) to character sheet – plus 3 extra instability
points next time you add Instability to your character sheet.
If you’ve met Dagger and failed to complete Chapter 15, Turn to
S.2.24.
Otherwise, Turn to S.2.18.
S.2.22
You’re not going to stand around and wait to get attacked by this
clearly unstable man.
Opposite the shelf you just walked into is another lined with metal
guard boxes, covered with fading radioactive symbols.
Something like that will be valuable out in the Old World.
It seems like you may as well kill two birds with one stone, as it
were.
You dive to the left, a move Lux wasn’t expecting, causing him to lose
his grip on you. You reach out and wrap a hand around the box and
heave.
It’s lighter than you expected and comes off of its perch easily.
The momentum of it swings your arm backwards, and you end up
throwing it directly into Lux’s stomach. You hear an oof as the wind
is physically knocked out of him.
Turning, you bring the box down on his head while he’s doubled
over. You hear a crack as he falls to the floor, landing in the spill of
green paint. It begins to tinge with red where his head is resting. You
watch for just long enough to make sure he’s still breathing, then
run out of the room as fast as you can and up the underground
stairwell, hugging the box tightly to you the whole time.
If anybody thinks it’s odd that you’re running towards an exit

clutching a box of radium, you don’t hang around long enough for
them to question you. Instead, you put every ounce of energy you
possess into getting out of the stadium, getting out of Prie. You fly
through the streets and back through the luminous corridor. The
guards standing at the entrance look surprised, but you shoulder
through them, getting far away before they can realise what’s
happening.
Only when you feel you cannot walk another step without your legs
breaking or lungs popping do you slow down. When you finally look
over your shoulder, the stadium is just a dot in the distance. You
haven’t felt such relief since you got to the Old World.
END.
Add Radium (O.27) to your inventory.
S.2.23
Fight or flight mode floods your body along with the
adrenaline. This man is clearly not thinking correctly, and you don’t
want to stick around for long enough to find out what happens if
he’s pushed.
You try to rip your arm away from Lux, but he holds on. Luckily for
you, that means he’s tugged sharply towards you. Taking advantage,
you use your forehead as a blunt weapon and smash his nose with a
vicious headbutt.
Lux lets out a shriek of pain and stumbles back, slipping in the
luminous paint and falling on his back into it. It splashes up and
coats his clothes in bright green. He looks furiously at you, too
enraged to speak, and you seize the moment to turn on your heel
and run out of the radioactive room as quickly as you can, heading
up the underground staircase taking two steps at a time.
You put every ounce of energy you possess into getting out of the
stadium, getting out of Prie. You fly through the streets and back
through the luminous corridor. The guards standing at the entrance
look surprised, but you shoulder through them, getting far away
before they can realise what’s happening.
Only when you feel you cannot walk another step without your legs
breaking or lungs popping do you slow down. When you look over
your shoulder, the stadium is just a dot in the distance. You haven’t
felt such relief since you got to the Old World.
END.
S.2.24
“If you want me to bring other people here, they’ll want to see proof
of your grandeur. Can I take a small box of this with me?”
You gesture to the lockboxes on the shelves. Lux considers this for a
moment before nodding emphatically.
“Yes, good idea. People don’t believe what they can’t see.”
He hands you a box and you slide it into your pack. He doesn’t need
to know that nobody innocent will ever see it under your watchful
eye. That makes you feel slightly better, even if it’s offset by the
vertigo you’re experiencing.
Add Radium (O.27) to your inventory.
Turn to S.2.18.
CHAPTER 30
ENDING ONE
30.0
Mari’s words ring round in your ears.
What do we do now?
You honestly don’t know how to answer that.
Most of the time you were looking for your group, you weren’t even
sure what you were going to do next. Now you have to make that
decision for the entire vault? Maybe not even just the vault –
maybe this will impact the way all other explorers interact with the
Old World forever.
You can’t make that choice. It isn’t fair to ask you to. Who are you,
after all? You’re just a person who got swept up in a storm and had
to find their own way home. Nothing about that means you should
have the authority over an entire nation.
You’re just… you.
“I can’t.”
Your words are croaky as they leave your mouth. Apprehensive,
even. With good cause, too – as soon as you say them, Mari is
scowling.
“What do you mean, you can’t?” she snaps.
“I mean that’s far too much pressure to put on one person. If I were
a vault leader, or some sort of great explorer who’d been out
here for years, maybe I’d understand. But I’m just someone who got
stuck in a storm. I’ve seen a lot of things, yes, but that doesn’t mean I
have the authority or the knowledge to make decisions about this.”
You wave your hand to gesture to all of the world around you. Mari’s
nostrils are flaring, making her look a bit like one of those fluffy
orange animals you’ve seen around the old world.
It’s a bit scary. You’ve seen her steely before, but you haven’t
actually seen her angry.
“The thing is, I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. This is a direct
order from the vault itself. If you don’t cooperate—”
“Then what?” The confidence is bubbling in your chest and makes
you rise to your feet. You’re tired of being dictated to. Ever since you
landed in this place, it feels like fate has thrown you around, like a
battered ragdoll tossed between children.
You won’t sit back any more. “They won’t let me back in? I can’t see
that happening, can you? Not when I’m clearly such an expert about
the Old World now.”
“So they throw you in prison,” Mari continues, but she’s beginning to
look unsure.
“For what?”
“Insubordination.”
“Right, well, even if they could make that stick – which we both
know they can’t – then what? What’s the future of exploration teams
from there? Nobody’s going to volunteer to go out if they know that
there’s a chance they’ll just be thrown in jail when they get back.”
“But… but…” she’s spluttering. She knows she’s lost.
For the first time since Mari came back in, Fanon speaks.
“That’s enough.”
You both pause to look to him, holding back the arguments on the
tip of your respective, barbed tongues.
Fanon gets to his feet. He looks tired but determined, his brow and
mouth set in firm resolve. For the first time, you can see why he’s
the leader here.
“Mari, you can’t make them make this choice.”
“But—”
“No ‘buts’. It was foolish for the vault to send that decision down,
anyway. Get on the radio and say it’s not an order for them to make.
We’re backing this decision.”
Mari doesn’t look happy, but doesn’t want to fight with her father.
She leaves the tent with her hands balled into fists. You get the
feeling if there were a door for her to slam, she would have. The two
of you stand in silence and watch her go. After a long moment,
Fanon turns to you.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” you say, but you’re shaking, still terrified of what might
have happened had you not won the argument. Fanon puts a hand
on your shoulder.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you don’t get into trouble. You haven’t
done anything wrong, after all. It’s disgusting that they asked you to
make such important choices all on your own.”
You nod, but part of you understands why. They’re scared.
Scared of what’s out here. That was always the feeling you got from
everyone back at home. It’s easier for someone who’s been out here
to make a decision than it is for them, in the safety of the vault. And
if it goes wrong? They have a brilliant scapegoat to pin it on. We
didn’t know this would go so badly. It was the intel we got from the
lost explorer.
“What now?” asks Fanon, dragging you out of your thoughts and
back into cold reality.
“I want to go back to the vault,” you confess. “I’ve had enough of this
place for a lifetime.”
It sounds pathetic, but it’s true. You want to go back to the vault.
Where you’re safe. Where you know what’s going to happen day to
day. Where you don’t have to wake up each morning and worry that
you’re going to be attacked or killed.
You want to go home.
Fanon nods, understanding.
“Well, I’ll start organising a way to get you home. Your boat was lost
in the storm so I’ll have to get the vault to send over another.
Can you make it that long?”
In the camp, with your friends and allies? You probably can, yes.
You set up your tent right in the middle of the others that night.
You want to be surrounded by noise and know people are right
there, if anything happens. You fall asleep easily and sleep the best
you have… maybe since you left the vault.
The next morning, Fanon seeks you out in the breakfast hall.
You’re halfway through a bowl of porridge and have to awkwardly
nod your way through most of the conversation while you try to
swallow the sticky, thick mouthful.
“There’s another supply ship on its way. It’ll be about a week and a
half before it reaches us, but we’ve got to get back to the site of our
old base. I’ll be making an announcement a bit later to everyone.”
You nod, thankful, and gratefully go back to eating your breakfast.
When Fanon announces the group is moving back, people seem to
have a mixed reaction at best. The idea of a long trek doesn’t sound
particularly thrilling to them, but nonetheless they dutifully go and
start packing up their tents and the other buildings.
You’re working at dismantling the camp yourself when you hear a

voice call out to you.
Turn to 30.A, Needs Gaia in Tow OR Gaia’s Badge
Turn to 30.B, Cannot have Gaia in Tow OR Gaia’s Badge
30.A
“Hey.”You turn and smile as Gaia approaches you. She
has her hands stuffed in her pockets and seems to be
shivering; she really has lost quite a bit of weight. You imagine she
probably feels the cold more than she used to. Nevertheless, she
helps you bring down your tent when she gets close enough.
“So, you’re going back?” she says. You let out a dry chuckle.
“Word makes it round that quickly?”
“No. Well, I mean, Fanon told me in case I wanted to join you.”
“And are you?”
“Yeah. Yes. I want to go back home.” Her hands tremble for a
moment and you know it isn’t because of the cold. Dropping your
work, you pull her into a hug which she returns tightly.
“It’s all right,” you say, but it isn’t. You’re not sure if things will be all
right for either of you again. The best you can do is try to mend
yourselves as you move on.
At least you have each other.
“Come on,” you say, pulling back and wiping her eyes with one of
your gloved hands. You can feel her tears seep through the material
and gently touch your finger. “Less than two weeks, Fanon said. We
can do that.”
“Okay,” she says with a tight smile. It seems that actually worked,
because her attitude remains surprisingly upbeat for the rest of the
day, even when the camp begins its journey.
It only takes about three days of walking to get back to your original
spot. You’re on the move from sunup to sundown, but that doesn’t
seem particularly taxing after all the travelling you’ve done.
You pass Mari a couple of times, but whenever you lock eyes she
looks away with a scowl.
You can recognise the place the camp first left. Not because of the
actual camp, but because of what’s left of your boat. A couple of
wooden boards float on the surface of the ocean, bobbing about but
constricted to the wreck by a piece of sail that’s stuck on jagged
rocks. You feel a little sad that this is all that’s left of your journey
here.
And then, for the most part, you’re left alone. You mostly talk to
Gaia, about things that don’t have anything to do with the Old World,
desperately trying to distract yourselves until you’re picked up. A
couple of times, people come over to ask you about your journey but
leave disappointed when you give short, uninteresting answers. You
don’t want to discuss these things any more than you absolutely
have to.
You see the ship on the horizon the morning of your twelfth day
back with camp. You stand on the hill, next to where the makeshift
port was, and watch it come closer and closer, excitement building
in your chest for when it docks. The sailors see you waiting and
wave.
You wave back.
They’re met by Fanon when they weigh anchor and start unloading
the supplies from the ship. It takes an excruciatingly long
time, and by the time they’re done it’s early evening and the crew
has to stay the night. You barely sleep in your tent, anxious to be off
as soon as daylight breaks.
The crew find you waiting next to the ship the next morning. Gaia is
beside you, fiddling with the ragged bottom of her coat.
You were going to ask Viktor if he wanted to come too. You’d seen
him around a couple of times in the camp, but he seems happy here
now. Settled. He was never a big talker, so apart from a couple of
friendly nods, you left each other well enough alone. You’re not sure
what you’d say to him anyway.
The ship is loaded with a few empty crates and sets sail with you
and Gaia on it. Fanon and a couple of others wave you goodbye.
You watch them until they’re out of sight, until the coast is just a
strip of grey and brown on the vast ocean, until it’s nothing at all.
From beside you, Gaia takes your hand.
It’s the last you ever see of Alba.
THE END.
30.B
“Hello.”You turn and raise your eyebrows in surprise. It’s Viktor.
Viktor, who you made the journey over with. He looks about the
same as when you last saw him, beardy and unaffected, but seeing
him still makes you smile.
“Wow. You look…”
“The same?” he echoes your thoughts. You shrug.
“You look a whole lot better than me, I can imagine. It’s good to see
you, Viktor.”
A rare smile crosses his lips.
“You too, mate, you too.”
“How have you been?”
“I’ve been… actually, doing quite well,” he settles on. He looks a bit…
uncomfortable.
“You don’t have to hide the fact that you’re okay, Viktor. We’ve had
different experiences here. There’s no point feeling guilty for being
happy.”
He seems to relax a little.
“I am happy. I actually enjoy this place. I was worried about you, of
course. But I think… I think I am going to stay here. I won’t go
back.”
It might be the longest sentence you’ve heard Viktor ever say.
“Then good luck, Viktor. I hope you’re happy.”
You mean it. There’s no point harbouring resentment. The two of
you shake hands and he’s called away to help dismantle the latrines.
You don’t envy him.
When you start, it turns out it only takes about three days of walking
to get back to your original spot. You are on the move from sunup to
sundown, but that doesn’t seem particularly taxing after all the
travelling you’ve done. Instead you remain resolved as you walk.
You pass Mari a couple of times, but whenever you lock eyes she
looks away with a scowl.
You can recognise the place the camp first left. Not because of the
actual camp, but because of what’s left of your boat. A couple of
wooden boards float on the surface of the ocean, bobbing about but
constricted to the wreck by a piece of sail that’s stuck on jagged
rocks. You feel a little sad that this is all that’s left of your journey
here.
And then, for the most part, you’re left alone. A couple of times
people come over to ask you about your journey, but they leave
disappointed when you give short, uninteresting answers. You don’t
want to discuss these things any more than you absolutely have to.
You see the ship on the horizon the morning of your twelfth day
back with camp. You stand on the hill next to where the makeshift
port was and watch it come closer and closer, excitement building in
your chest for when it docks. The sailors see you waiting and wave.
You wave back.
They’re met by Fanon when they weigh anchor and start unloading
the supplies from the ship. It takes an excruciatingly long time, and
by the time they’re done it’s early evening and the crew
has to stay the night. You barely sleep in your tent, anxious to be off
as soon as daylight breaks.
The crew find you waiting next to the ship the next morning.
The ship is loaded with a few empty crates and sets sail with you on
it. Fanon, Viktor and a couple of others wave you goodbye. You
watch them until they’re out of sight, until the coast is just a strip of
grey and brown on the vast ocean, until it’s nothing at all.
It’s the last you ever see of Alba.
THE END.
CHAPTER 31
ENDING TWO
31.0
Your breath catches in your throat. This is… a big decision.
Not something to be taken lightly.
What they’ve just asked you is huge. And not just for the camp –
what you say could impact the way the vault interacts with the
outside world for… well, forever.
“Can I… can I have time to think about it?” you ask, hesitantly.
Mari goes to open her mouth but Fanon interrupts her.
“Of course you can. Don’t feel like you need to rush. This isn’t a
decision to be made lightly. Nobody will blame you for taking your
time.”
He looks over to Mari who deflates a little and tries to suppress her
rolling eyes.
“Take the day. But I’d like to be able to get back to the vault with
your choice by tomorrow.”
You nod and take your leave. As soon as you’re out of the tent you
hear whispered, almost hissed, conversation strike up behind you.
You don’t stay to listen. You can already imagine what it will be
about anyway: Mari complaining and Fanon defending you.
You want to be alone for a while. You’d think you’d have had enough
of being alone for the rest of your life after being lost for so
long, but for the first time you’re beginning to feel… overwhelmed.
No matter where you turn in the camp, there are people. Chittering
and chatting, making so much noise. You need space to think.
You find yourself on a hill at the perimeter of camp. You can look
down on the tents while keeping an eye on your surroundings. You
let yourself get lost in thought.
You’re not sure it’s fair that you’ve been asked to make this choice.
What gives you the authority? You’re just someone who got lost in a
storm.
There are people who’ve been out here for longer than you.
Fanon. Mari, even – she’s lived basically her whole life here.
You wonder if that accounts for some of her foul mood earlier.
She doesn’t like the fact that she’s being looked over to let you make
the decision. You can understand that; if you were in her position,
you probably wouldn’t appreciate it either.
Someone’s coming up the hill towards you. You’re so caught up in
your own thoughts you almost don’t notice.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
It’s Jan. The man who greeted you into the camp when you landed,
with his irritating optimism. Clearly, nothing has changed, because
he’s still giving you a big smile. You can’t find it in yourself to return
it.
“It’s been… a long few weeks,” you say, lying back on the cold grass.
Jan takes this as an invitation to come and sit down next to you.
“Looks like you’re worried about something. I thought you’d be
relieved.”
“I am. It’s just...” You sigh. Well, you might as well be honest.
Maybe he can help shed some light on all of this. “The vault…
they’ve asked me what to do. How we go forward from now. The
whole expedition. They think, because I got lost for a few weeks, that
suddenly I’m some sort of expert. But I’m not.”
Jan, to his credit, listens and nods. Then he doesn’t say anything for a
moment, choosing instead to pull out some grass and twist it
between his fingertips, marking them green.
“All right. So, say you got back and you didn’t have the vault asking
you to make a choice. Say it was just Fanon, asking your opinion on
how we should proceed with the mission. What do you think you’d
tell him? Would you say it was worth pushing forwards, or falling
back and returning home?”
Everything that’s happened washes over you. Every ally you gained,
every enemy you made. Every time you feared for your life.
Knowing that, honestly, you had it better than everyone else who
lived in this land. Here, the terror wasn’t just a daily event – it was a
way of life. Now, you have the power to make it better.
“I suppose... I’d say we should help who we can. But we need to be
careful, because this place is more dangerous than anything the
vault could have prepared us for.”
“Well, there you go then. Looks like you knew the answer all along.”
Jan smiles at you and tucks the grass he’s braided behind his ear.
You feel like he’s over-simplifying things, but maybe he’s just helped
to put things in perspective.
“Thank you, Jan,” you say honestly. He practically beams.
“Glad I could help.”
He leaves you alone, getting to his feet and trotting back down the
hill.
You suppose you have your answer, then.
You take the rest of the day to mull over your choice, keeping to
yourself, but all things considered you’re pretty confident. You sleep
fairly well that night. It helps to not have worry. So, when dawn
breaks the next day, you know what you’re going to tell Fanon and
Mari.
You find them in the strategy tent. Mari has a steaming cup of
something that she sips from, even though it’s probably going to
burn her mouth. Fanon is eating some dried berries and
commenting on the weather. Both of them look up in surprise when
they see you come in.
“I didn’t expect you to come here. Thought I might have to track you
down,” says Mari, taking another scalding swig.
“Well, you asked me for an answer, and I have one. I think.”
Fanon perks up, Mari just looks even more taken aback.
“Oh? Go on,” she says.
So you explain everything. That you believe the people in the old
world need to be helped, that you really need to offer the aid of the
vaults and the people that they bring over. But also that there’s
always going to be the threat of raiders, or the people who will
exploit what you offer, so you’ll also always need to be on your
guard.
It won’t be an easy mission. But it might be what is needed to put
the world back together.
Fanon nods, taking in your words, and Mari seems to be happy with
the answer. Well, as happy as Mari can be.
“All right, I’ll go and let the vault know,” she says, draining her mug
and leaving the tent. You’re left with Fanon who looks at you with a
soft smile.
“So,” he says, “do you know where we need to start?”
Turn to 31.A, Needs Morag.
Turn to 31.B.
31.A
“Yes,” you say with the most confidence you’ve felt for a long while.
“I think I do.”
To be fair to the vault, there isn’t any time wasted.
Once you’ve passed on the information about your plan, they
organise everything quickly. You’re given a group of five other
people to go and seek out the village from the ship. Your pack is
stocked up with fresh supplies and a new tent, one that’s a lot less
battered.
You’re given a radio communicator this time, too, large but still
portable. One of your companions is assigned to lug it around.
Setting off into the Old World this time, you feel a lot more
reassured than the first. Having six people together makes you feel a
lot safer than when it was just you – there’s always someone to keep
watch during the night. You aren’t bothered by raiders on the way,
but it helps you feel reassured.
It takes a while to track down Morag. You get to the burned, rusted
wreck of the ship, and you can remember which way they headed
when they left, but apart from that it’s all guesswork. It takes you
the better part of a month to find them again.
The first thing you see is the smoke over the horizon. When you’re
close enough, you whip out your new binoculars and take a
look.
Dozens of tents have been set up in the wreck of an old building, a
huge one-storey thing that looks like it hasn’t seen this much life for
years, maybe since before the war. You can see people inside the
structure itself and spilling out into their homes onto the tarmac.
Children run and scream as they play their little games, people talk
and laugh. You smile.
As your group makes its way to them, you call out a greeting, letting
it be known you don’t mean any harm. The people who spot you
seem skittish and soon Morag is called to meet you. Her face lights
up when she spots you.
“Well I’ll be damned!” she laughs with a smile so wide you can see all
her yellow teeth. You don’t have time to protest before she pulls you
into a tight hug.
“I didn’t think I’d see you again, chicken!”
“I didn’t either,” you say. She might be crushing your ribs but you
can still feel yourself grin. When she sets you down, she seems a
little confused.
“Well, what brings you here? I see you have some friends now.”
She gestures at the group behind you.
“I found the people I was looking for, Morag. From the vault. And
now we were wondering if you want to… make an alliance, I
suppose.”
Her eyebrows shoot up.
“An alliance?”
“Yes. To help look after each other. We want to try to make a trading
network between our group and all the other friendly villages
around here.”
She looks confused, but not unhappy.
“Why?”
“Because we want to work towards a better future – for everyone.”
Morag mulls that over, and then she’s smiling again.
“A better future,” she says, and reaches out her hand.
You shake it, and you take the first step.
THE END.
31.B
“Ithink so,” you say. “There’s a city not too far from here. You might
have seen it when you were travelling. There are hundreds of people
there who need help. If we can get them all to band together, we
could really change their lives.”
Fanon nods and brings you over to the map. You point out the area
you mean and he jots down some notes.
“All right. I’ll make sure Mari passes this back on to the vault as well.
I can’t see any reason they would object to what you’ve said, so let’s
start organising a party to make contact.” He pauses. “Do you want
to be the one to lead them?”
“I can be,” you say. You weren’t expecting to want to go back, but it
could be different this time. It will be different. You won’t be on your
own, blindly searching for something that keeps slipping from your
fingers. You’ll have a purpose. A mission.
So Fanon gathers you a team. Seven other people who he thinks will
be able to help and support you. He lets you talk to each of them to
appraise them and their skills yourself. They all seem tough and
competent. They seem like they’ll have your back out there – that’s
really all you need to know.
And then, a week after you returned to the camp, you’re about to
leave again with the vault’s blessing.
Your team gets to work quickly, getting their supplies together.
Plenty of rations for the group and new, sturdy tents. Someone even
has a portable radio so you can keep in touch with the camp. You
won’t be isolated again.
It’s dawn when you’re about to set out. Fanon and Mari come to see
the eight of you off.
“Seeing as I didn’t get to say it properly last time, good luck.”
Fanon shakes your hand and pulls you into a hug. It’s a little
awkward because of the size of your pack – you’ve stocked up with
supplies for any possibility – but you return it with enthusiasm.
“Let us know when you get there and tell us if there’s any problems,”
says Mari. She looks confident. It helps spur you on.
“I will,” you say. You turn to your team.
“Are you ready?”
They all shout back enthusiastically. You grin.
You take your first steps on your new mission back out into the Old
World.
THE END.
CHAPTER 32
ENDING THREE
32.0
Mari’s question hits you like a sucker-punch. All you can do for a
moment is blink and try to process what she’s said.
“They want me to make that choice?” you ask. Mari shrugs.
“Apparently. I don’t understand it either. So, what’s your decision?”
A wave of dread washes over you, sucking the feeling of relief from
your body, replacing it with white-hot fear. This isn’t a decision you
can make with a snap of your fingers. It’s not even a decision you
want to make. Clearly, you’re not doing a very good job of hiding
how you feel because both Mari and Fanon are staring at you
worriedly.
“Are you all right?” Fanon asks. You wave his question away.
“I’m… fine. Can uh, can I have some time to think about it?”
“Yes, of course you can. It was unfair for this to be sprung on you
anyway.” Fanon gives a sharp look to Mari, who just huffs and looks
away.
“Just have a decision by tomorrow morning,” she states.
“Thank you,” you say, getting to your feet and heading towards the
tent flap. As soon as you leave, you hear hissed conversation
between Fanon and Mari but you don’t pause to try to hear it. You
know they’ll just be arguing over you, and you don’t need anything
to add to the stress of this situation. What you need is to be alone.
On your way, a man smiles at you. You don’t recognise him but he
clearly knows who you are. All of the camp must do at this point.
“Hello,” he says, “how are you holding up?”
You grunt your response and walk away. He’s left staring dumbly
after you.
You crawl into your tent and lay down heavily on your sleeping mat.
It smells in here. It smells of sweaty, unwashed human, of grass and
dirt, of smoke from dozens of campfires. It smells like the entirety of
the last weeks. It’s come to be somewhat of a comforting scent, as
strange as that is. This tent has been your home, and that’s what the
smell now reminds you of.
You really can’t make the choice for the vault. It’s not fair for them to
ask you to do it. You were nothing but an explorer when you left
them, and now they’re acting like you’re the most important person
there’s ever been?
It’s too much pressure. A lesser person would crack.
You’re not even sure what to say. For the last however many days,
you’ve been lost – the only thing you’ve been thinking about is
getting back. Anything further than that never occurred to you.
You try to relax, closing your eyes and letting your head lull
backwards. There’s noise outside, the hubbub of people going about
their lives. You furrow your brow. It’s… distracting. Irritating even.
You forgot just how loud people could be. You’ve been on your own
for so long you learned to appreciate the quiet.
It was a much nicer sound.
But now you’re back here, where people are making a racket.
Taking up every inch of the inside of your head with their incessant
noise. Knowing they want to ask you questions about what it was
like being lost. The dire knowledge they won’t stop poking with
their little questions.
And a tiny part of you wonders, do you want to be back here at all?
You want to quash the thought immediately. It makes you feel
terrible, but part of you continues to nag away. Why were you so
desperate to get back here? You don’t know anyone here. The people
who you had the longest relationships with were Gaia and Viktor,
and you only knew them for three weeks on the ship. You have no
real ties here. Only safety in numbers – and honestly, can’t that be
found anywhere there are friendly people?
You were desperate to get back, and now that you’re here they’ve
thrown this choice at you. This momentous decision – that you
never asked for. It doesn’t exactly make you feel… welcome.
You went through all of this hardship, just to be faced with a shitty
situation when you get back. How is that fair? How is that something
you want to be a part of?
And all at once, it dawns on you. It isn’t a snowball, a gradual
realisation that gets bigger until it can’t be ignored, it’s more of a
storm, coming down all at once and drenching you in the idea.
You can’t be here any more.
It’s almost freeing to realise. A weight immediately feels lifted from
you. You don’t know where you’ll end up, but you know you’ll be
happier anywhere that isn’t here.
A smile creeps over your face. The first one of the day.
You have a plan.
You spend the rest of the day keeping to yourself. People try to talk
to you, and you answer them with courtesy and polite bluntness.
You don’t give away what you’re thinking about. You just nod your
head and engage in idle conversation. You wish Fanon a good night
that evening and head into your tent.
Then, you wait for the camp to fall silent.
You’re left sitting up for a few hours, ears pricked up as you listen to
the outside world. The talking turns to murmuring, which turns to
quiet. You know there will probably be people awake on guard duty,
but it’s easier to sneak by a couple of individuals than the whole
camp.
When you’re sure everything has been still for at least half an hour,
you leave your tent, carefully collapsing it and putting it on your
pack. It’s something you’ve become used to doing silently. Nobody
notices when you bundle yourself up against the cold and begin to
leave camp.
You walk silently, past the latrines, past the mess hall. You pass
Mari’s tent with extra care; you don’t know how heavy a sleeper she
is, but you really don’t want to risk waking her up. You can’t imagine
that would end well.
Nobody is on guard on this side of the camp. You think you’re going
to get away scot-free.
Then you hear the voice behind you.
Turn to 32.A, Needs Gaia in Tow OR Gaia’s Badge.
Turn to 32.C, Needs Gaia in Tow OR Gaia’s Badge.
Otherwise – Turn to 32.B.
32.A
“Where are you going?”
It’s probably the only voice that could make you
freeze. You turn round and face Gaia.
She’s cold, each breath spitting out tiny puffs of frost into the air.
She’s clearly just woken up, just wearing her pyjamas with her coat
pulled roughly over the top of it. Her shoes look like they’re on the
wrong feet. She must have noticed you going and come after you.
It’s sweet. It also makes you feel absolutely terrible.
“I just needed to… get some air,” you say. It isn’t very convincing.
“With your entire pack?
“I—”
“And your tent?”
It looks like Gaia is about to cry. You drop your pack onto the muddy
ground and come over to her.
“Gaia, I’m sorry.”
“Why? Why are you going?”
“Because…” It’s hard to put it into words that she’ll understand.
“Because this place isn’t home for me any more, Gaia. Not here, not
the vault. Nowhere is. And if I stay here, they’re going to try to force
me to be a person who’s just… all right with all of this. That isn’t me
any more. I can’t make myself be something I’m not.”
“You think you’ll be happier out there? It’s horrible out there.”
Yes, you can see why she’d think that. You didn’t have a wonderful
experience when you were on your own in the Old World, but it was
a damn sight better than hers. You take her hands.
They’re shaking, just like her lower lip.
“I won’t be happier there, but at least I won’t be made to do
anything, or to be anything. Or make decisions that I don’t want to
make.”
“This is about Mari, isn’t it?”
“Word travels fast, huh?” you laugh humourlessly.
“You could always just... tell her no. You don’t have to run away into
the night.”
“It’s not just that, Gaia. Even if I do say I won’t answer her question,
nothing will ever be the same. There will still be this… I don’t know,
this responsibility assigned to me. I’ll always be the person who got
lost. But out there? I’m just a person. A person with no story behind
them. Nothing to live up to.”
“Then let me go with you!”
“I don’t think you want that,” you tell her quietly, wiping a tear from
her eye. She relents quickly, sighing. She doesn’t.
“But I’ll miss you,” she says. “You’re the only one who…
understands.” It breaks your heart.
“I’ll miss you too. But Gaia, you’ll be fine. You’re stronger than me,
you know.”
She launches herself into your arms and holds you so tight you think
your ribs might break.
“They’ll be angry when they see you’re not here.”
“I know. That’s why I’m asking you to give me a head start.
Please don’t tell anyone I’m gone. Let me have tonight.”
Gaia lets you go slowly. Later, you realise it’s the last time you’ll ever
hug her.
“All right,” she says. “Just… look after yourself.”
“I will. You too, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
There’s nothing left to say. You pick your pack back up and walk into
the night.
The low light from the camp’s electric lamps frame Gaia as you
leave. She stays planted where she is, watching you go. You wave at
her. She hesitates before waving back.
The next time you turn around, you can’t see her any more.
You don’t stop walking.
THE END.
32.B
“It’s a bit late for a stroll, don’t you think?”
Fanon’s voice sends a shock of white-hot dread through you. You
turn slowly, expecting him to look angry.
He isn’t. His arms are crossed, like he’s caught a naughty schoolchild
breaking curfew, but there’s a look of soft amusement on his face.
You get the sense you’re not really in trouble.
“I can explain—”
“Can you?”
You sigh.
“No. Well, yes, but you probably won’t like it.”
Fanon sighs and comes up to you. You brace yourself for…
something.
He takes your chin in his hand and tilts your face up so you’re
looking at him.
“I understand, you know. If I hadn’t had a daughter when I was in
your situation, I might even have done the same.”
His words are reassuring, if a little sad.
“I just want you to be sure this is what you want. If you choose to
leave, it’s unlikely people will welcome you back if you change your
mind.”
“I can’t be here any more, Fanon. I can’t be this thing that the vault
wants me to be. This… figurehead. It isn’t me. And it isn’t fair for
them to want it to be.”
He nods, understanding. His hand drops and for a moment you’re
confused until you see it’s because he’s removing your badge. The
badge that designated you as an explorer from the vault.
“What will you tell Mari?”
“The truth. That I woke up, had breakfast, and when I went to find
you, your tent was gone.”
He chuckles to himself and in spite of everything, you find yourself
smiling.
“You have my blessing. I just want you to promise you’ll be careful.
You, more than anyone, know it’s a dangerous world out there. Not
one to be entered lightly.”
“I know.”
Fanon pulls you into a hug. You accept it, wrapping your arms
around him tightly. You know this will probably be the last hug you
have for a while. You want to try to remember it.
You don’t say anything else. Instead, you untangle yourself from
Fanon and slowly walk away. You turn around quite a few times.
Each time he’s still there, silhouetted by the low light of the camp’s
electric lamps, and each time he waves. Eventually, you get far
enough away that you can’t see him.
You keep walking, into the darkness, and into freedom.
THE END.
32.C
The voice sends ice down your spine. You turn
slowly on your heel and find Gaia staring blearily at
you. She’s wrapped in her coat, but you can see that her pyjamas are
on underneath it. She must have noticed that something was wrong,
that you weren’t where you were meant to be, and threw on the
nearest possible clothing to follow you out.
“I’m… just going for a walk,” you lie. Gaia’s gaze shifts to the fully
stuffed pack on your back, and her eyebrows raise.
“... Permanently,” you finish. Despite the gravity of the situation, Gaia
lets out a little laugh.
“Come back to camp,” she begs you quietly.
“I can’t, Gaia.”
“Why?”
You want to tell her everything, you do, but all the words try to
tumble out of your mouth all at once and get tied up with each other.
All that leaves your lips is a long, trailed off ‘eehhh…’.
“Right,” says Gaia. She doesn’t look angry, but disappointed, which
arguably hurts worse. She can never understand your experience of
this place. Nobody can, really.
But then again, you realise… you can’t understand hers either.
“Come with me,” you say. She jumps at the idea like she’s been
electrocuted.
“With you?” she echoes.
“Yes. The two of us. They’re never going to understand what we’ve
been through. Not back at the vault. And then what? We spend the
rest of our lives stuck underground again, prodded and poked to
retell our stories over and over again? Or we can take what’s
happened to us and… go.”
You sweep your hand across the horizon. It really is vast, an empty
land full of possibility. Above, hundreds of stars shine down on the
two of you.
After a tense moment of silence she says something that you weren’t
really expecting.
“Okay.”
“What?” you ask, snapping your head from gazing skywards.
“I said okay. All right. I’ll do it. Just… give me a minute, okay?
Wait here,” she tells you, scurrying off back towards camp.
You do, of course, because she asked you, using your pack as a
lumpy and uncomfortable chair. For a moment your breath gets
caught in your throat as you worry that she might be alerting the
camp to what you’re going to do, get them to try to stop you. But you
quickly release the thought.
She wouldn’t do that. Not now. Not to you.
After a few minutes you see her head bobbing towards you.
She’s bundled up in more appropriate clothes this time, her own
rucksack tied tightly on her back. You notice how small the size of it
is and she shrugs.
“They got rid of my tent after the storm. It got ruined by the wind,
apparently, and I wasn’t there to claim it, so…”
You feel like there’s more she’s not telling you, about how she ended
up with Dagger, but it’s too soon to push into that. Instead you just
hold out a hand to her, inviting, comforting. Uniting you as a force
against whatever this world has to throw at you.
She considers it for a moment and then threads her fingers through
yours.
“Where will we go?” she asks quietly.
“Wherever will have us.”
“How will we survive?”
“Together.”
It’s not the answer she was looking for, exactly, but she nods
anyway. You give her hand a little squeeze and start walking away
from the camp for the last time.
And you thrive.
THE END.
CHAPTER 33
ENDING FOUR
33.0
Mari’s words buzz around your head like bees, ricocheting off the
inside of your skull.
“They want me to… to…”
She shrugs, blasé.
“I’m just as taken aback as you are. But, apparently, you’re the expert
now. So, what’s your decision, chief?”
And just like that, everything flashes before your eyes.
The past.
Coming over here.
Getting lost. Staying lost.
Fighting to be safe. Being in danger every second you weren’t near
people. Being in danger even when you were near people.
Spilling blood. Feeling it, warm and red on your hands.
People's screams. Your screams.
The present.
Coming home. Feeling safe – for a moment.
Having this dumped on you.
Feeling like you passed from one horror straight into the arms of
another.
Knowing you aren’t qualified to make this decision. Knowing
whatever you choose will be wrong.
Knowing lives will be at risk – because of you.
The future.
Having to be responsible for the decision you make, no matter how
bad it might turn out to be. Because you were forced into it.
Because the decision was taken away from you. Because you weren’t
allowed to be your own person any more. Because you spent so long
trying to come ‘home’ that you didn’t even think about what would
happen when you got back.
Everything… begins to splinter.
Fragmenting into little pieces.
Mari’s worried face disappears and Fanon’s voice becomes fuzzy. He
might be asking if you’re all right, but you really can’t tell any more.
As the whole world falls to shards around you, you hear screaming
and it takes a moment to realise it’s coming from your throat. Then
you feel it with such force, it’s like you’re trying to scream your
lungs straight out of your body.
And
Then
You
Shatter
Too.
Turn to 33.A, Needs Gaia in Tow OR Gaia’s Badge.
Otherwise, Turn to 33.B.
33.A
As soon as I heard the screaming, I knew who it was.
We’d been travelling together for long enough that I could recognise
their voice. I didn’t tell them, of course, but sometimes they’d wake
up screaming in the night. I don’t think they knew they did it, and I
didn’t want to be the one who broke the news to them. Besides, a
few gently whispered words and they would usually be lying back
down, falling to sleep again.
Of course, that was then. This is now.
This wasn’t the sort of screaming they had during the night, pitchy
and arrhythmic. This was full-on wails of terror. It sent ice through
my veins.
I’m not a runner by nature but I almost flew over to the strategy
tent. I didn’t ask for permission, I just threw back the heavy portal
and stormed in.
My friend was on the floor, their knees up to their chest, their hands
so tightly in their hair I thought they were going to rip chunks out.
Fanon was by their side, trying to talk to them, but Mari was stood
back with a look of horror on her face.
We met eyes and she looked truly terrified. I never really liked that
woman.
I ran over to my screaming friend and grabbed their wrists, forcing
their hands to let go of their hair and grab onto me instead.
Their face was drenched in thick tears and snot and sweat. There
was… their eyes weren’t the same. I’m not quite sure how to
describe it. It was like they weren’t seeing where we were, not
really.
They recognised me though, I think. At least they quietened down
anyway. The screams fell back into terrified murmurings. They
began to rock themselves on the floor.
“What happened?!” I shouted.
“I just passed on a message from the vault!” Mari replied, throwing
her hands up like she was innocent of all wrongdoing.
“What message? What possibly could have had this reaction?!”
When Fanon explained it to me, I felt something pumping through
my veins. Something I didn’t feel often. The white-hot feeling of rage
pulsed through me, filling me up. This was the most angry I’d ever
been. I hadn’t even felt like this when the raiders caught me and
shoved me into that cell, beating me and starving me. This was a
whole new level of fury. Righteousness for someone who had been
done wrong. Someone who didn’t deserve it.
“You idiot!” I screamed at Mari. She took a step back, her eyes wide.
“Someone comes back home after being lost, someone who’s
emotionally fragile and you put that on them?! No wonder this
happened! How could you be so stupid! How did you get put in
charge of this place?!”
“Gaia, that’s enough—” Fanon begins behind me, but I swat his
words away.
“How dare you. How dare you do this? Look at them!”
I turn to my friend. I’ve moved their head into my lap. Their eyes are
wide and glassy. They haven’t stopped rocking.
Mari doesn’t answer me. She looks like she has a lot to say but is
keeping it to herself from the way her mouth is twisting. Without
another word, she leaves.
Fanon sighs.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“Sorry isn’t good enough.”
“No. I know.” He sighs again. “I think… I think we should get them
back home.”
“What do you mean?”
“The vault, Gaia. Home.”
I look down at you. And nod.
It’s not an easy process. We need to get to the coast so a ship can
pick us up and take us back to the vault. Firstly the camp needs to be
packed up and then we need to make the actual journey to the coast.
I stay with them throughout the whole thing. They don’t get any
better. I was hoping for some sort of spark when they realised we
were moving on, but they remained catatonic; sitting quietly, staring
at something nobody else could see. I did the best I could for them. I
kept them clean, brushed their hair, talked to them. I don’t know if
they heard me but I did it anyway.
It was strange. Suddenly having to be in charge of this person.
They’d done so much for me. They’d saved my life. If it hadn't been
for them I’d still be locked in a raider cell – or worse. They gave up so
much for me. And this is the thanks they got.
The two of us ride on one of the wagons made to carry the
collapsible walls of the shower block. The rocky journey doesn’t
seem to bother them. In fact it’s almost relaxing; they fall asleep
easily for the first time in a couple of nights. I don’t wake them up.
They deserve the rest.
It takes a couple of days to get to the coast, and another week on top
of that for a boat to come. I stay by their side for the entire time.
When I hold their hand they let me. I see Mari look at us from across
the camp. Every time our eyes meet she looks away. I know she feels
guilty. I can’t bring myself to care; she deserves to.
The ship comes, it’s unloaded, and we’re put on board. I’m going to
go home too. I don’t want to spend a moment more in this awful
place. I want to go back to where I feel safe. And I want to make sure
my friend can be… comfortable.
Neither of us stand on the deck and wave goodbye when the ship
leaves port. I don’t care about any of the people left behind. I’m
angry at them for what they did to my friend. Nobody deserves that,
especially someone who’s been through so much.
In the cabin I take their hand.
“We’re going home,” I tell them.
They don’t respond. But I think they squeeze my fingers.
THE END.
33.B
The screaming takes over the entire camp. Viktor furrows his brow.
It seems familiar, but he can’t place it. Shaking his head, he goes to
return to his work. Stock duty. It isn’t exciting, but someone has to
make sure the camp has enough to eat.
“Viktor!”
He looks up at the sound of his name. Jan is coming towards him, a
look of worry on his face. He drops what he’s doing to meet Jan
halfway.
“What’s the matter?” Viktor asks. Jan takes a moment to catch his
breath, but when he explains the situation Viktor can’t hide the look
of surprise on his face. Of all the people to be making such horrid
shrieks, he didn’t expect it to be someone he’d sailed over here with.
He’d heard the news that you were back – was even considering
going to see you, say hello, and check how you were doing. Let you
know he had settled into this place quite well and planned to stay
here. Looks like that plan’s going to go on hold.
“They’ve not, erm, calmed down for the last half an hour.”
“Yes,” he said, wincing as the screams get louder and quieter again,
“I noticed.”
“Fanon wanted me to come and find you. He thought maybe they’d
have a better reaction to you.”
Viktor sighs but lets Jan take him to the strategy tent. Fanon must
really be desperate. On the voyage over, the two of you didn’t have
the best relationship – you didn’t dislike each other, you just didn’t
talk much. Gaia was the glue that held your little crew together.
His heart hurts a little at that thought. Gaia. Although he hopes she’s
safe, wherever she is, if he was being realistic, she’s probably not.
He stops thinking about it as he walks into the tent.
You’re on the floor, knees up to your chest, hands so tightly in your
hair he thought you were going to rip chunks out. Fanon is by your
side, trying to talk to you, but Mari is stood back with a look of
horror on her face.
Viktor catches her eye and she looks truly terrified.
He crosses over to you and gently says your name. Your screams
subside for a moment, and he takes advantage of the calm to
untangle your hands from your hair.
“Do you remember me?” he asks, but you don’t reply. The screams
are replaced by horrible, catatonic silence. You stare off into the
distance. Whatever you’re looking at, he doesn’t think it’s something
anyone else can see. Viktor sighs.
“What happened?” he asks, genuinely curious. Fanon has a grave
look on his face as he explains. It’s a melancholy story. A couple of
times, he looks over to Mari, who avoids his gaze.
“So now what?” Viktor asks.
You’ve started to rock back and forth. It’s unsettling.
“We take them back to the vault, I think. They aren’t in any state to
stay here. They need to be somewhere they can be looked after,”
Fanon states. He’s sadder than Viktor had ever seen him; it looks
like this was quite a blow.
“I had such high hopes. But, I suppose they’re just another person
lost to the Old World.”
Viktor doesn’t have time to press Fanon on what he means. They
have more important things to do.
“So,” Viktor says, “how do we get them back?”
Slowly and with a lot of effort is the answer. We have to pack up the
entire camp and head to the coast. It’s irritating that we have to do
this for the benefit of just one person, but then I think I’m probably
being too harsh. They went through a lot. Besides, we’d have had to
move closer to the sea eventually – we’re beginning to run out of
supplies. Fanon tells us there’s a ship on its way over. We’ll meet it
where it docks, and then we’ll put anyone who wants to go back on
it.
We have to put them on one of the carts we use for moving the
collapsible buildings. I can tell everyone isn’t happy we have to lug a
person along with us but at the same time they won’t say anything.
They’d come off as heartless.
It takes a few days to get to the coast. At least they’ve stopped
screaming. They spend the entire journey in silence. It’s a relief to
see the ship on the horizon as we crest the final hill. We unload the
ship even before we unpack the camp. Normally, the crew would
stay a night, but Fanon has a hushed conversation with them and
they’re getting ready to leave immediately. I think there’s quiet
agreement we all want to get our patient back to the vault as soon as
possible.
I watch my companion being put onto the ship. It strikes me what a
complete change this is from when we arrived. Them being
confident and excited. Now they need help to walk.
They don’t look back at me. I’m not entirely sure if I want them to
but I still feel sad, nonetheless. When the boat casts off I don’t stand
and wave it goodbye. I go back to work.
I don’t hear from them again. But I hope they’re comfortable.
THE END.
CHAPTER 34
ENDING FIVE
34.0
You take a moment to digest Mari’s words. She watches you coolly,
but also with concern, as if she’s not quite sure what’s going to
happen. Not sure how you’ll take the decision that’s just been
dumped in your lap. Not sure if you might react badly.
But you feel oddly… calm. No wave of terror. No panic gripping your
chest, because, honestly, you know what you want to do. What you
need to do, even.
Yeah, this whole thing has been… well, it’s had some of the worst
moments of your life. A lot of it was also incredibly insightful, and
you met people out there, good people. People who weren’t so
different from everyone you grew up knowing in the vault. Your
answer was always going to be that you need to help them.
In fact, maybe you need to go even further.
“Honestly? I think we need to be helping out the people here
however we can. When I was sent on this mission, it was to gather
information. But that seems a bit… I don’t know. It’s like we’re acting
as if these people aren’t actually people. That they’re animals we
need to observe and keep away from. But that’s awful! They’re just
like us. We should be united with them, not holding them at arms’
length.”
Mari has a look of puzzlement on her face, but Fanon is grinning and
nodding his head along, excited about every word you’re saying.
“So what do you propose we do now?” he prompts. It’s the most
enthusiastic you’ve ever seen him. Maybe it’s just nice that he finally
has someone who agrees with his view on the old world.
“I think… I think we should try and integrate with them. We unite
with the people who are already living here and work towards… I
don’t know. A new civilisation, I guess. People from the Old World
and the New World, living together, helping each other.”
Mari looks shocked. She turns to her father only to find him with a
huge smile on his face.
“You really think that’s a good idea?”
“Yes,” you say firmly, “I do. I don’t see what other option we have,
really. If we keep doing things the way we are, I think it’s only going
to cause a divide. People are sceptical of us coming over from the
vaults. But if we can prove to them we aren’t so different, I think it
could really change things here. And if we don’t, what are our
options then? We stay in our own little bases, building resentment in
everyone else here? Waiting for them to drive us out or, the best
outcome, ignore us forever?”
“What about raiders?” she asks.
“Yes, I know they’re a problem. Trust me, I know. But they’re still
going to be a problem for us if we stay in a camp on our own. At
least, if we’re with another group, we have more power to fight
them off. And who knows? Maybe if they see what’s happening,
some of them will change their minds and come live with us, too.”
She looks sceptical, but you step towards Mari and take her hands.
She looks slightly horrified, but she doesn’t pull away.
“Don’t you see, Mari, this is the only way forward. This isn’t just the
best thing we can do for the vault. It’s the best thing we can do full
stop. We need to try and make things… like how they were before
the first bomb was ever dropped.”
“Yes!” Fanon exclaims, jumping to his feet. Mari looks between the
two of you and sighs, giving up. You think there’s also a bit of a smile
on her face.
“All right. I’ll go call the vault then,” she says, making her way out of
the tent. Even when she leaves, there’s an energy in the tent, a
buzzing excitement between you and Fanon. He turns to you, still
beaming. It’s a look that hasn’t left his face for the last five minutes.
“I’m so glad,” he says, and for a moment you think his voice cracks as
he speaks. “I’m so glad I’ve found someone who agrees with me. I’ve
been trying to talk about this with Mari for ages, but she acts like I’m
just some foolish old optimist.”
“Maybe you are some foolish old optimist. But is that such a bad
thing?” you ask. He chuckles and pats you on the shoulder.
“Maybe you’re right,” he admits. “Honestly, I thought I might be dead
before I ever saw this day come. I’m so glad the vault sent you over.”
You consider everything that’s happened since you got here. The
good things and the bad. And then you decide: “Me too.”
You chatter excitedly with Fanon for a moment longer, talking about
the things you’ve seen on your adventure, before Mari comes back
into the tent.
“Well,” she says, “it took some convincing but it seems the vault’s
backing your idea. They said if we can integrate successfully with a
group out here, they’ll start sending over more supplies and more
people.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “They said… it might be
what we need to finally leave the vault.”
It’s an incredible prospect. Children getting to be outside, not

needing to grow up surrounded by cold, clinical steel walls any
more.
Giving everyone in the vault the possibility of a better life. It’s the
best possible outcome for this project.
“So,” says Mari, breaking you out of your daydream, “do you have
any idea where we’re going to start with this?”
You cast your mind back through everything that’s happened while
you’ve been out there. Every person you’ve met, every interaction
you’ve had. And you nod.
“Yes,” you tell Mari, “I think I have an idea.”
Turn to 34.C, Needs Balloon Blueprints (O.28).
Otherwise, Turn to 34.B.
34.A
“There was a group I met. The village on the ship you sent me to
stake out when I first got here. I got to know them.
I think they’d be our best chance at joining forces.”
Fanon nods; Mari looks sceptical.
“Morag’s group?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.
“Yes! And you already know them, so it’s not like they’re strangers.
Everyone there was friendly. The only problem is they’ve moved, so
we’ll have to try and find where they got to.”
“All right,” Mari relents. “Let’s go and tell everyone then.”
It’s a tense time. Mari gathers the camp together and makes the
announcement. You see the looks of concern flash over faces as they
take in the news. Of course, it’s going to be a big change for them.
They don’t know what you know. They haven’t seen the old world.
It’s a lot to ask them to trust you so blindly, but you won’t let them
down.
The camp is packed up over the course of the day, putting down
tents and disassembling buildings, then you start on your journey.
It takes a few days to get to the site of the burned, hollowed-out
ship. You have to cross the bridge again. A ball of anxiety knits itself
together in your stomach as you approach, but apparently it’s a lot
easier to cross as a group than an individual. The guards see your
badges and wave you onwards. You feel a little peeved it was such
an effort to get over there on your own, but are thankful you can
keep the journey going.
You then have to try to track down which way they went. You
remember the general direction the village headed, and luckily there
are still some faint tracks the heavier carts left in the dirt. A lot of it
is guesswork. All the people in the convoy don’t take too kindly to
being led on what they consider to be a wild goose chase, but they
keep their complaints to a minimum. In fact, on the tenth day, when
you spy a settlement in the distance, there’s actually a murmuring of
excitement throughout the group.
Dozens of tents have been set up in the wreck of an old building, a
huge one-storey thing that looks like it hasn’t seen this much life for
years. You can see people inside the structure itself, some spilling
out their homes and onto the tarmac. Children run and scream as
they play their little games, people talk and laugh. You smile.
The group makes its way to the village slowly. With the amount of
people following you, soon you’ve attracted attention. A murmur
goes around the camp and you can see someone coming towards
you. Someone with red hair.
Morag’s face lights up when she sees you and she pulls you into a
rough hug.
“I didn’t expect to see you again, chicken!” she laughs. You return
her embrace.
“I didn’t expect to be back, Morag,” you confess. She holds you at
arms’ length to take a good look at you and seems to be happy with
how you’re doing. Then she looks to the dozens of people you have
in tow.
“Morag, I’ve come to talk to you. As a spokesperson for the New
World.”
She raises her eyebrows.
“Aye?”
You tell her your plan. You tell her you want to integrate. Have your
people come and live with hers. A small crowd gathers behind her,
and you can tell the two groups of people are scoping each other out.
Morag listens patiently, nodding along.
When you’re done she takes another long, sweeping look over your
party.
“Are you sure about this?”
“I think we could really help each other, Morag,” you confess.
“I like your moxie, kid.” She holds out a hand. With a grin, you take it
and shake.
“I welcome you and yours to the group. Let’s see how this goes,”
she says.
You grin. Around you, tents are unpacked and buildings are erected.
New neighbours shyly introduce themselves.
Fanon catches your eye. He nods his head with a smile before he
goes to talk to Morag with open arms.
You feel like you’ve taken a step into a real new world.
THE END.
34.B
When the rest of the camp is told they’re moving to the city, there's a
grumbling that’s difficult to ignore. You don’t blame them, though. If
you were in their place, being told you were going to uproot your
lives to try to move to a (potentially dangerous) new home, you
wouldn’t be incredibly pleased either. But the city seemed to have
the highest concentration of people, which means it’s the best place
for you to make connections. Plus, given all the old buildings, maybe
you could start renovating some of the actual architecture. Make
permanent homes for yourselves.
You get to the city streets fairly quickly once everyone has packed
up the camp and started to move. It’s only a couple of days’
travel before you see the dilapidated building of the outer city, the
spire of the church looming over everything. Everyone seems
nervous but excited as you head into the city proper.
You get some looks, a huge group moving all as one with all the
equipment you have, but soon find a good, open place to settle into.
It used to be some sort of plaza, but it’s all but emptied out now. You
spend the rest of the day clearing rubble from the space and setting
your home back up.
It’s not a bad spot. Protected from all sides by buildings means the
wind is going to be a lot less bothersome. Near plenty of places you
can start work on renovating. Maybe, in a year’s time, these tents
will be gone, replaced with actual solid houses.
During that first night, everyone comes together to cook for the
evening. On the outskirts of the camp you can see someone standing
just where the firelight ends. They look nervous as you approach.
“Hello,” you call. The figure jumps. It’s a young man, probably no
more than eighteen. He looks worried.
“Don’t panic, I’m not going to hurt you. My friends and I have
decided to come and live here, just like you.” You gesture to the
group behind you. “We’re having dinner, would you like to join us?”
The boy’s eyebrows skyrocket, but then he nods.
“I’d like that a lot. Please. Thank you.”
You bring him in to eat. The next night, he brings friends.
Conversation begins to flow slowly amongst everyone.
And you smile, knowing you’ve taken the first step to the real new
world.
THE END.
34.C
“Fanon,” you say, and he looks surprised that you’re
addressing him, “I showed you those blueprints earlier, yes? The
ones of the balloon?”
He nods, straightening up.
“You did. Said they were used by raiders.”
“They were. But they weren’t just used by raiders! On the coast,
when I came back to look for you, there was a farm. They were
fishermen. And they had one of these, too, but they didn’t use it for
attacking, they used it for surveying the land. Like a watchtower.
And to keep an eye on the horizon for storms. If we had something
like that, then…”
Your sentence trails off. Everyone there can read the end of it
without you needing to say it aloud.
Then nothing like what happened to me will ever need to happen to
anyone again.
“Let me look at the blueprints,” says Mari, clearing the now sullen
silence in the air. You come forward and roll them out onto the
centre table. She inspects them for a moment, lips pursed in
concentration.
“I see no reason that we can’t replicate these.”
“Really?” say you and Fanon in tandem.
“Really. We have mechanics and builders here, after all. And of
course you’ve seen these artefacts in action and that goes a long
way,” she tells you. Excitedly, you nod.
“Show me where I need to get started.”
It isn’t an easy project. Finding all of the necessary components is
difficult. Enough fabric to get the thing to fly, the right kind of fabric,
and then get the propane to get the damned thing off the ground. It’s
an experiment that ends with more than one burning pile of cloth.
In fact, Mari even sends word back to the vault to send over more
gas canisters and a crate of nylon. They don’t ask her why. You think
they’re a little bit afraid of her back overseas, and you can’t blame
them. Maybe that’s why she ended up over here.
By the time the second ship arrives with its quarry, you’ve cobbled
together enough prototypes to know exactly what you’re doing. It
isn’t an easy thing to finish, not by far – especially getting the weight
of the basket right – but eventually, many moons after you first
suggest the project, it’s done.
It’s impressive, the day you do your first test flight. The balloon is
patched together from huge pieces of red and blue fabric – all
stitched together tightly, the burner chugging away beneath the
skirt to inflate it.
“Exceptional,” Fanon mutters, truly mesmerised at the sight. You
think back to when you first showed him the blueprints, how he
didn’t want anything to do with it, and now look at him – just as
caught up in the whole thing as you are.
“Right,” says Mari, “give it a test, then.”
It takes a moment to realise she’s talking to you.
“What, me?!”
“Yes you. Who else? None of us have seen one of these in action
before.”
That’s true. You’re the only one here who’s been up in a balloon, or
that’s been close enough to see how it works. You’ve studied the
blueprints enough to know, in theory, what to do.
In theory is a lot different from in practice, though.
With shaky steps you head into the basket beneath. Fanon gives you
a big grin; Mari just looks a little bit worried and doesn’t try to hide
it.
“Just do an ascent and a descent. Nothing fancy; don’t endanger
yourself.”
Heart in your mouth, you start the burner.
The balloon rises slowly. The basket gives a little wobble and you
panic that it’s not secured properly – but it is, it must be, you were
the one who oversaw it.
Keeping eye contact with your colleagues on the ground, you rise
higher into the air, little by little, above their heads, above the tents,
soon above the newly erected radio tower in the middle of camp.
You keep going, higher and higher.
The wind gets chillier and you snuggle down into your coat. The
land unrolls before you like you unfurled the blueprints for Fanon
all that time ago. A sense of pride swells in your chest as you realise
all of your hard work has finally paid off. This is what you’ve been
working towards.
You must be at least five hundred feet in the air by now. The Old
World stretches out in all directions beneath you, green and
promising. You can see the ocean from up here. It rolls in lazy waves
and greets you like an old friend. You feel like you could do anything
up here. Go off and find all the splintered villages living across this
land and unite them together, start a city, start anew.
With a deep breath of cold air comes a smile.
In the distance, a whale crests for just a moment before returning to

her home under the water.
THE END.
CHAPTER 35
ENDING SIX
35.0
You consider what Mari has just asked of you. This decision she’s
dumped in your lap. Maybe you should be worried.
Scared, even. But you aren’t, because you know what your answer is
going to be.
“How many guns do we have here?” you ask. Mari’s eyebrows
skyrocket, clearly not the question she was expecting to be asked.
“A couple… Not many.”
“We’ll need more.” You get to your feet and walk over to the map
they have laid out on the table, peering at the topography. So many
raider bases around here, you think. It’s so dangerous for the camp
to sit here, in the middle of an open area, barely guarded. It’s
amazing they haven’t been attacked yet.
“This place… is a battlefield. The whole thing,” you say, running your
fingers over the paper. “Nobody is safe. You want to know what I
think the best thing is for us to do from now on?”
You slam a fist down to make a point.
Mari and Fanon both jump. “The best thing we can do is try and
wipe out as many violent groups as possible. They might have
grown up here, but we have better resources than they do. If we can
take them down, maybe this place will actually be liveable.”
Fanon looks at you with abject horror.
“You want us to kill people?” he asks. You shrug.
“I want to kill raiders.” Maybe you should add on an ‘I don’t even
want to kill them’, but that’s not necessarily true. You do.
Being out there has changed you. Warped you. You aren’t the
person you were when you started this journey, and frankly you’re
not sure if you’d want to be. People might say it was a bad thing, but
you aren’t so sure. You just had to become hardened to this world. If
the vault didn’t expect this to be a possibility, they shouldn’t have
sent you out in the first place. You’ve had to develop a shell, of sorts;
something to harden you against this dire world. Because if you
hadn’t, you think you might have died.
Mari looks gaunt, but at least seems more understanding than her
father. She comes to join you at the map.
“There are a few bases around here that we know of. We haven’t had
an interaction with any of them yet. I’m not sure they even know
we’re here.”
“Good. That’ll work to our advantage,” you say, pulling out your own
map and comparing it to what they have here. You realise just how
dirty and creased the thing is. You really haven’t treated this map
very well, but it has lots of annotations on it, things that will
probably be priceless information if you’re going to do this well.
“We’re going to need more guns – and people who know how to use
them. Do you think the vault can provide that?”
“Only one way to find out,” she sighs. “I’ll go and put a call in right
now.”
She leaves the tent. Fanon and you are on your own now. When you
look at him, he looks horrified. It’s an expression you’ve never seen
on him before; usually he keeps everything so neutral, or jovial.
So this, this is new.
“I can’t believe this,” he says quietly.
Maybe you should feel bad, but you just shrug.
“Yes, it’s not the ideal solution. But do you really want to risk our
entire camp getting wiped out by raiders?”
“If you start there, where does it stop?” he asks, his voice rising, both
angry and pleading. “How do you decide who is a raider and who
isn’t? Because it doesn’t seem to me like you want to put much effort
into that side of things. What if you hurt innocent people?”
You let this question sink in, percolating in the air around you with a
heft you don’t much like. You find yourself shrugging once again.
“Once they catch wind of what we’re doing, anyone who isn’t a
raider will want to stay on their best behaviour, won’t they? Then
we won’t have a problem.”
Fanon just shakes his head, looking sick.
“I thought you were different,” he says.
“I am,” you reply with another shrug, “just not in the way you
wanted me to be.”
You lock eyes for a moment longer, and he looks like he wants to say
something else. He doesn’t, though; he just shakes his head and
storms out of the tent. As he goes, Mari returns, almost knocked off
her feet by her father. She watches him go with sadness.
“Well,” she tells you, “we have the go-ahead from the vault.
They’re going to send another ship over with some firepower and
soldiers. We need to get to the coast to meet them, and then we can
start working on a… a plan of attack, I guess.”
An announcement about the next steps of the mission is given that
night at dinner. You hear nervous chatter from all around the mess
hall. Of course, not everyone is going to be happy that you’re
suddenly turning on the offensive – pretty much nobody here is a
soldier. But you’re sure everyone can be taught to use a weapon.
The next day, the camp is packed up and you travel to the coast to
meet the incoming ship. It’s a couple of days of travelling and then a
lot of waiting. You spend most of that time with Mari discussing
various tactics. Nobody else in the camp approaches you. You’re not
sure if it’s because they’re angry you’re making them fight, or
because they’re scared of you. Secretly, you hope it’s the latter. You
like the idea that people are scared of you. Because it means the
raiders should be, too.
The boat arrives three weeks later. It’s much bigger than the one
you sailed over on. It has to be, you suppose, considering the
amount of people it has on it. You watch the crew unpack their
quarry. There are a lot of boxes of what you can only assume are
firearms. You smile.
That night, Fanon comes to you and Mari for the first time since you
made your decision. He looks at the two of you levelly from where
you sit in the mess hall, at your own table.
“I’m going back to the vault when the boat leaves,” he tells you. “I
can’t condone what you’re doing and I won’t be a part of it. It’s time
for me to go.”
Mari is sad, but not surprised. All she says is, “I can’t stop you.”
Fanon looks like he wanted her to say something else, but knows he
can’t change her mind. He just nods and leaves.
“I’m sorry,” you tell her, because it seems like the right thing to say.
“Don’t be,” she tells you. “I’m a soldier. My father isn’t. I thought this
would happen.” She takes a bite of bland dinner. “So. Now we have
everyone. Where do we go?”
You have a think. And then you answer her.
Turn to 35.A, Needs Meeting Dagger, CANNOT HAVE Dagger’s

Fate.
Turn to 35.B, Needs Dagger’s Fate OR NEITHER OF Dagger’s
Fate OR Meeting Dagger.
35.A
It’s early morning when you approach Dagger’s base. There’s a rifle
clutched in your cold hands. Behind you are a couple dozen people,
all armed to the teeth. You catch the eye of a burly woman. She gives
you a nod, telling you silently that she’s ready.
You’d left for this place two mornings after the ship docked; enough
time for the new members to get settled, not long enough for them
to get complacent. You’d headed out with every able-bodied person
towards the base. It wasn’t far. No point wasting time.
Dagger was, without a doubt, one of the most dangerous people
you’d met while you were in the Old World. Wiping her off the map
would be a huge step for your group’s new mission. Not only would
it mean the whole area would be safer, but it would also mean you
were serious about what you set off to do.
You’re set on your glorious purpose.
You don’t stop when you see the base over the horizon. Instead, you
lead the group over the hill and down towards the gates.
The two guards on duty notice you too late. There’s a bullet in each
of them before they can raise the alarm. It’s an easy matter to storm
the rest of the place.
It’s early, so few raiders are awake. The ones out on patrol are taken
out quickly, and then your group splits up to go into the various
bunks. The sounds of gunshots and screams rhapsodise into the
quiet morning air. A smirk grows on your face.
You step through a puddle of blood, leaving one red footprint behind
you as you go towards Dagger’s favoured building.
You kick down the door and fire. Everyone in the room goes down,
clearly not expecting the assault. With a blur, the three figures drop
to the floor – two of them you barely recognise, and one you
definitely do.
Dagger’s guards are dead. She isn’t. She’s lying in a pool of slowly
growing red. Her eyes flicker with recognition as you approach her.
“Wait—” she starts, but doesn’t get any further before you have the
barrel to her head and pull the trigger. Her skull explodes in shards
of white and gooey pink globs. Blood splatters all over your trouser
legs.
You look down at the pulpy mess that was once her head.
And then you go to the next one.
THE END.
35.B
You leave a couple of days after the ship has departed.
Fanon went with it, as he said he would, but you traded him for a
couple dozen able soldiers so you can’t be too sad about it, all things
considered.
The camp is packed up again and you move inland. You know the
way to the city by now. You don’t even need your old, torn-up map
any more. Maybe you’ve become more familiar with this land than
you thought you had. Everyone follows you without question.
There isn’t a lot of talking as you move. Everyone is nervous. You
can understand that.
It’s quite easy to see the city from far away. The huge spire of the
church reaching up towards the sky is a dead giveaway, a compass
to guide you. The group seems hesitant but you push forwards
anyway, heading into the dilapidated streets.
It might be difficult to go after individual bases to start with,
especially because you can’t be entirely sure how big the raider
groups are in each one, or how heavily armed they could be. But, if
you start here and wait for people to come to you? Well, that’s a
different story.
The group settles down in what looks like it used to be some sort of
plaza. Once surrounded by old shops and houses, now empty from
everything but rubble. That’s easily cleared away, and the camp is
erected in the space you make.
You spend a few nights just camping and listening. When you hear
the first gunshots, all the soldiers you have jump to their feet and
arm themselves, following you into the fray.
There are raiders down one of the side streets. Civilians are running
and screaming, looks of terror on their faces. The raiders whoop and
laugh as they chase them.
But they only have machetes, and you have guns.
A few rounds, and most of the raiders are down. A couple of
innocents get caught up, too, but it isn’t your fault they didn’t get out
of the way quick enough. You soldiers are reloading as you find a
raider who isn’t dead. His arm has been shot through, and he’s
rolling around in pain. You put a boot on his chest to stop him.
“Do you want to live?” you ask. He nods desperately. You gesture
and two of your group come and grab him under the armpits,
hauling him to his feet. He howls.
“Then you’ll tell us everything about where you came from?”
Again, he nods.
Seems like this will all work out just fine.
THE END.
CHAPTER 36
LOST ENDINGS
36.0
You look at your map. And then you look at it again. And again.
Scouring the paper in front of you for some sign of something you’ve
missed.
But you can’t find anything. You’ve officially exhausted every lead
you’ve managed to unearth while you’ve been out here. You grab the
middle of the map and fling it as far as you can in fury. It doesn’t go a
great distance, and sits about two feet away, uncurling slowly.
You’re tired. Your legs are tired. You’ve been walking for so long.
You’ve tried everything to find your group. You’ve gone for miles
and miles. You need a break. It’s exhausting.
You lie back on the grass and look up at the sky. There are clouds
coming over. There’s going to be rain soon. More rain. It’s like, no
matter where you go, you can never get away from the rain.
It’s like it’s haunting you. You know that’s ridiculous, it covers miles
of land, but it really does feel like it’s centred on you sometimes.
There was a song Vola used to sing about the rain back at the vault.
You try and hum it but you can’t remember how it goes.
And then you realise, you’re probably never going to see Vola again.
Tears spring up in your eyes. You’re not going to go home.
You allow yourself a moment of weakness. Crying isn’t something

you’ve done for a while. You’ve managed to stay strong throughout
this journey, but that’s because you were pretty sure you were going
to have an end destination. And now that’s been snatched out of
your hands in exactly the same way the wind is dancing the map
away.
You curse and get up, running after it. It’s not something you can live
without. It was stupid to throw it away in the first place.
Just as a huge gust is about to sweep it away, you pounce and snatch
it out of the air, landing heavily on your stomach. You make a little
oof noise as the breath is pushed out of your lungs, but with the map
safely in your hands, you can’t find it in yourself to care. The paper
crinkles in your fingers. Okay. It’s fine. This isn’t an ideal situation,
but it’s one you can work with.
You force yourself to your feet and wipe yourself down. This journey
hasn’t been for nothing. No, this isn’t the outcome you’d planned for,
but that doesn’t mean it isn’t one you can deal with. It isn’t like you
don’t have options.
It’s a bit hard to smooth out the map after what it’s been through
these past few minutes, but it’s still legible. You look over it and try
to work out where you need to head for. What should be your next
option, if you’re never going to see home again?
Turn to 36.B, Needs Charlie.
Turn to 36.C, Needs Naomi.
Turn to 36.D, Needs Scavenger’s Artifact.
Turn to 36.E, Needs Windmill Warden.
Turn to 36.F
36.A
Okay. Okay. You may be lost, but you aren’t hopeless. You do know
somewhere you’re pretty sure will take you in.
Somewhere you might be able to find a semblance of what you had
back in the vault. Somewhere you could maybe call home.
You roll your map up, place it back in your side pocket, and start
walking.
It takes a couple of days to get to the burned remains of the ship.
It’s a sad sight to take in. You built some long-lasting memories
there, and now it’s nothing but bones and dust. You sigh and press
on, following the path the group took when they headed off to find
their new home.
You’re lucky; there are deep tracks in the mud from their heavy
carts, which haven’t been washed away by the rain. It does take
some exploring, but eventually you see smoke coming up from the
horizon.
At the top of a hill, you see the village. They’re settled in the skeleton
of what looks to be an old warehouse. There are people milling
about, both inside the building and in the tents they’ve set up
outside of it. Some sort of building work appears to be taking place –
rough scaffolding has been set up around a couple of the walls and
people are patching up the areas that are most run down.
You head down to the camp. People must recognise you from
previous visits because they don’t stop you from walking into their
little village.
Morag’s tent is easy to find. She’s set up inside the building, her tent
near the giant fire you know is the centre point for the camp. You
call out at her door.
“Aye?” she replies, and you walk in.
She’s sitting at a table doing some sort of map work, and her eyes go
wide when she sees you. In a flash, she’s on her feet and embracing
you.
“I didn’t think I’d see you again, chicken!” she laughs.
“Me neither, Morag,” you confess, leaning into her. She gives you a
squeeze and holds you at arm’s length to inspect you.
“What are you doing here?” she asks. You sigh and tell her your
pitiful story. Looking for your group. Not finding them. Accepting
that you weren’t going to. She listens with a sombre expression and
nods along.
“So I was wondering… could I live here? With you? You’ve been the
kindest person I’ve met here. I’ll pull my weight; I won’t be a pain.”
She hums a thoughtful note.
“How are you with building work?”
“It’s something I can do,” you reply. You don’t think it’s a lie.
You’ve become a lot more self-sufficient since you left camp, and
that includes becoming stronger physically.
Morag grins and slaps a hand on your shoulder.
“Well then. Go find a place for your tent and get to work.”
You grin as a wave of relief washes over you. You have somewhere
to be. You aren’t going to be lost any more.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
She holds out a hand.
“Welcome home.”
With a smile, you shake it.
THE END.
36.B
Okay. Okay. You may be lost, but you aren’t hopeless. You know
back in the vault. Somewhere you could, maybe, call home.
walking.
their new home.
You’re lucky; there are deep tracks in the mud from the heavy carts
which haven’t been washed away by the mud. It does take some
exploring, but eventually you see smoke coming up from the
horizon.
At the top of a hill, you can see the village. They’re settled in the
skeleton of what looks to be an old warehouse. There are people
milling about, both inside the building and in the tents they’ve set up
people are patching up the areas that are the most run down.
You head down to the camp. People must recognise you from your
previous visits, because they don’t stop you from walking into the
little village.
You hear Charlie before you see him. The sound of metallic clanging
and angry muttering is a dead giveaway. You follow the trail of noise
into the warehouse building and see him working on some sort of
huge machine, tucked away towards the side. It looks like it’s some
sort of heating device, similar to what you had back in the vault.
It hurts your heart for a second, but you move on quickly.
“Charlie!”
He darts his head up, hits it on a pipe, swears, and looks over to you.
His face cracks into a grin.
“Ya jammy bairn! I dinnae think I’d see ye ’gain.”
He hops down and gives you a rough handshake with coarse, papery
hands. You smile at him; his energy is infectious.
“What are ye doin’ here?”
You sigh and catch him up, telling him your story – every place you
visited, every dead end you had. He nods and scratches his beard.
“Aye, it’s a tricky one.”
“I was wondering, Charlie… is there a place for me here? Do you
need an assistant? I’d pull my weight. You know what I can do.”
His face bursts into a smile.
“That’s why ye cem to find me, eh?” he chuckles, “Of course you’ve
got a place ’ere. I said ye were welcome.”
Your face lights up, along with his. He slaps you on the arm.
“I’ll let Morag know I have a new assistant. Go set up yer tent and
help me with this thing.” He cocks a thumb over his shoulder at the
machine. “If it doesn’t start behavin’, it’ll drive me mad. Well, mad
der.”
You chuckle as he disappears into the mess of tents.
Happiness settles over you. This might not be the home you were
after, but it is a home, nonetheless.
THE END.
36.C
Okay. Okay. You may be lost, but you aren’t hopeless. You know
back in the vault. Somewhere you could, maybe, call home.
walking.
their new home.
You’re lucky; there are deep tracks in the mud from the heavy carts
which haven’t been washed away by the mud. It takes some
exploring, but eventually you see smoke coming up from the
horizon.
At the top of a hill, you can see the village. They’re settled in the
skeleton of what looks to be an old warehouse. There are people
milling about, both inside the building and in the tents they’ve set up
people are patching up the areas that are the most run down.
You head down to the camp. People must recognise you from
previous visits, because they don’t stop you from walking into the
little village.
It’s easy to find the medical tent. It’s where the screams of pain are
coming from. You rush into the warehouse and find Naomi working
desperately – there’s a man in front of her whose leg has been
broken in two. Her face is set in steely determination as she tries to
work, but he keeps lashing out in agony.
You drop your bag and rush over, holding the man down so Naomi
can set the break. She looks up at you and does a double take in
surprise, but the current situation demands her attention. The man
screeches under you, but between the two of you, you manage to
splint and bandage him. He must pass out from the pain at some
point, because he goes quiet and you can let him go.
Naomi finishes her work. She turns to you, covered in blood and
exhausted.
“You’re back,” she states.
“Yes. I am.”
“Came along at the right time,” she sighs, grabbing a spare cloth and
wiping herself clean. She cocks her head to the patient. “He fell off
the scaffolding.”
“That’ll do it.”
“That explains why he’s here. Why are you?”
You sigh and tell her your story. She listens quietly, taking in
everything you tell her about being lost and not finding your group.
She seems to know where you’re going.
“And you want to know if you can live here?”
“I was hoping,” you confess. She hums a note.
“Well, I could always use a hand. I’d be happy to have you here.
I’m sure Morag won’t object, either.”
She pushes the roll of bandages into your hand and sighs.
“Go and check on everyone in the infirmary and I’ll go and tell her I
have a new partner.”
She doesn’t give you much choice; she turns on her heel and leaves.
You put your pack down and head into the tent.
There are only a couple of patients, awake now from the earlier
screaming. They look at you with wide eyes.
“Are you going to be our new doctor?” asks one, a girl no more than
nine. You give her a smile.
“Yes. I am.”
And you set to work.
THE END.
36.D
It’s not a nice sight to return to. The battlefield is still as mauled as
you remember it being. The bodies are beginning to rot; the cold
weather hasn’t staved that off. The whole field is thick with the
pungent scent of decay. It almost makes you gag, and you have to
pull your collar up over your nose.
You’re lucky to see the collection of tents you’ve encountered once
before. They’re flocked together towards a patch of trees, away from
all the corpses. There are a couple of scavengers sitting by a
campfire, sorting through piles of scrap for anything worthwhile.
One of them is the older woman you think is in charge.
You head over and they spot you before you’re close enough to talk,
tracking you with narrowed eyes as you try to avoid stepping on any
patches of dried blood. The woman’s eyebrows raise when she sees
it’s you.
“You’re back,” she states.
“Yep,” you reply, dully.
“What do you want?”
“Do you still need someone to help you with artefacts?”
She scoots over on the little bench and pats for you to sit down,
handing a small pile to you when you do.
It’s not very valuable, any of it, but you talk through what you have
in your lap anyway. She listens and nods along before asking,
“You’re back here for a permanent position, aren’t you?”
You falter. “How did you know?”
“Because you don’t look like the kind of person to come here
willingly,” she coughs loudly. She doesn’t sound well. “We need a
new archivist anyway. You can stick around as long as you’re
helpful, aye?”
You feel yourself smile. “Sure.”
“All right then,” she says, “welcome to the team.”
You go back to sorting. It wasn’t the home you were looking for…
but you suppose it will do.
For now.
THE END.
36.E
The hill is just as arduous a climb as you remember. At least this
time you know to check for traps, though, and manage to – twice –
avoid stepping into a bear trap. You’re incredibly relieved when you
push through the trees and see the windmill again.
You walk towards the door and, as before, the man throws it open
with a shotgun in his hands. When he sees it’s you, his expression
softens.
“Traveller,” he greets. “Didn’t expect to see you again.”
“I didn’t expect to be here again,” you confess. “Can I come in?”
He nods and ushers you in, setting the gun by the door as he closes
it. He puts on the kettle and makes you a piping hot cup of tea. You
use the steam to bring the heat back into your face, first.
You didn’t realise just how cold it was.
“So,” he says eventually, thinking you’re probably ready to talk,
“what twist of fate lead you back here?”
You tell him. Trying to find your group, getting lost, having nothing
to go on. You throw in more details than you need to really. Maybe
you’re just trying to get some sympathy from him. You really, really
need a place to live.
He listens in silence to your tale of woe and then nods.
“I see. Seems like it’s been a difficult time for you.”
“It has. And look, I really need a place to stay. Until I can find where
to… be in this place. And I was wondering if you needed an assistant
on your farm? I helped with farming back at the vault so I know a bit
about it. I can be useful around here.”
He mulls this over.
“How do I know I can trust you?” he asks.
“You don’t, I suppose. But I don’t really know whether I can trust
you, either. We both have to take a leap of faith.”
He chuckles. You’re not sure if it’s a sound you’ve heard from him
before. And then he nods.
“All right.”
“All right?”
“Yes. You can stay, if you pull your weight. It won’t be easy, though. I
get up at dawn to do my work here.”
“I don’t mind. I’m used to tough work,” you confess. He holds out a
hand, dirt-encrusted and calloused, and you shake it with gratitude.
“To the start of a long and prosperous partnership,” he says, holding
up his mug. You clink your own one to his and you both drink.
You’re going to have to be the one that makes the tea, though.
This is terrible.
THE END.
36.F
You sigh and scour your map. Okay. Maybe you don’t have a
definitive idea of where to go. But that doesn’t mean it’s the end of
the road. You’ve managed to make connections here. You’ve talked
to people. Maybe it’s just a matter of seeking out more people,
talking to them, and trying to find a place to fit in.
You’re a survivor. You are. You’ve survived this long, and now
you’ve got to keep going. And you will. Because really, this isn’t the
end of your story. It’s just… a new chapter.
You roll your map up and tuck it back into your pack. It’s getting
dark. It’s time to find somewhere to bunk down for the night.
You head towards the sunset, trying to keep the warmth for as long
as you can. You still feel melancholy, but you’re also guided by a
little spark of hope.
THE END.
ALBA QUICKSTART GUIDE
Adventurer, you’ve journeyed through the shivering lands of Alba
many times, but now you wish to revisit your travels and see what
could have been. What alternative routes might you have taken?
What different futures might await you?
This guide is for experienced players of Alba, who wish to jump right
into the action with their character specialities established and the
first open choices ready to go, without repeating the first two
chapters of narrative ‘set up’.
If you’ve not read through Alba in full before, we strongly
recommend you start at Chapter 1, Section 1, even if you’ve
already read a different Open World Adventure Book – as each title
is structured differently.
If you’re keen to start your next adventure through Alba , then follow
these instructions in order.
Step 1: Choose a Boat Name
Select either ‘Marlin’ (N.1), ‘Ark’ (N.2), or ‘Speedwell’ (N.3) as
your boat name, and apply the appropriate sticker to your
Character Sheet (or mark it on your print out if you don’t have a
recharge pack).
Step 2: Choose your Specialities
Select strictly one speciality from each group, and apply the
appropriate sticker to your sheet.
Group 1 – Engineering (S.1), Old World Language (S.2), Hand-to-
Hand Combat (S.3), Knowledge (S.4)
Group 2 – Chemistry (S.5), Medicine (S.6), Survival (S.7),
Sharpshooter (S.8)
Step 3: Set up your Map
Add The Voyage (Chapter 1 – L.1) and The Storm (Chapter 2 –
L.2) to your Map, then mark them completed by crossing them out
with a pen or pencil (or as appropriate if you’re using the printout
sheet)
Add The Power Plant (Chapter 3 – L.3) and The Ship (Chapter 5
–
L.5) to your Map.
Step 4: Choose Di culty
Normal – Add Shower (P.1) to your Character Sheet.
Hard – Start your journey. No shower for you.
Step 5: Choose Your Chapter
As normal, begin your adventure by selecting your chapter and
beginning on the first section of that chapter – the rest is down to
fate...
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

H L Truslove
H L Truslove is a writer in the south of England who’s delighted that
they are finally using their writing degree for something.
They graduated from the University of Winchester with a BA in
English and Creative Writing and an MA in Creative and Critical
Writing. They’ve always focused on writing fiction and consider it to
be one of their great passions – writing Alba was a labour of love
(and huge flowcharts) and they sincerely hope you enjoy it!
ABOUT INSIDE THE BOX
Inside the Box is an independent tabletop game development studio
based in East London, UK. Started by friends at university in 2015,
Inside the Box has since gone on to win awards for innovative
design in tabletop gaming as well as a range of industry and
community accolades.
Inside the Box specialises in games and gaming products that
communicate powerful ideas, push the boundaries of design, and
challenge players in and out of their games.
For more information about Inside the Box, as well as opportunities
to work at conventions, playtest new titles, submit your game ideas
and more:
www.itbboardgames.com
@itbboardgames
#playwithideas
Document Outline
 Title Page
 Copyright
 Acknowledgments
 Contents
 What is an Open World Adventure Book?
 How it Works
 Half Title
 Map of Alba
 Chapter 1
o The Voyage
o 1.0
o 1.1
o 1.2
o 1.3
o 1.4
o 1.5
o 1.6
o 1.7
o 1.8
o 1.9
o 1.10
o 1.11
o 1.12
o 1.13
o 1.14
 Chapter 2
o The Storm
o 2.1
o 2.2
o 2.3
o 2.4
o 2.5
o 2.6
o 2.7
o 2.8
o 2.9
o 2.10
o 2.11
o 2.12
o 2.13
o 2.14
o 2.15
o 2.16
o 2.17
o 2.18
o 2.19
o 2.20
 Chapter 3
o The Powerplant
o 3.1
o 3.2
o 3.3
o 3.4
o 3.5
o 3.6
o 3.7
o 3.8
o 3.9
o 3.10
o 3.11
o 3.12
o 3.13
o 3.14
o 3.15
o 3.16
o 3.17
o 3.18
 Chapter 4
o Return to the Powerplant
o 4.1
o 4.2
o 4.3
o 4.4
o 4.5
o 4.6
o 4.7
o 4.8
o 4.9
o 4.10
o 4.11
o 4.12
o 4.13
 Chapter 5
o The Ship
o 5.1
o 5.2
o 5.3
o 5.4
o 5.5
o 5.6
o 5.7
o 5.8
o 5.9
o 5.10
o 5.11
 Chapter 6
o Return to the Ship
o 6.1
o 6.2
o 6.2a
o 6.3
o 6.4
o 6.5
o 6.6
o 6.7
o 6.8
o 6.9
o 6.10
o 6.11
o 6.12
o 6.13
o 6.14
o 6.15
o 6.16
o 6.17
o 6.18
o 6.19
o 6.20
o 6.21
o 6.22
o 6.23
o 6.24
o 6.25
o 6.26
 Chapter 7
o The Raid
o 7.0
o 7.1
o 7.1a
o 7.2
o 7.3
o 7.4
o 7.5
o 7.6
o 7.7
o 7.8
o 7.9
o 7.10
o 7.10a
o 7.11
o 7.12
o 7.13
o 7.14
o 7.15
o 7.16
o 7.17
o 7.18
o 7.19
o 7.20
o 7.21
o 7.22
 Chapter 8
o The Great Migration
o 8.1
o 8.2
o 8.2a
o 8.3
o 8.4
o 8.5
o 8.6
o 8.7
o 8.8
o 8.9
o 8.10
o 8.11
o 8.12
o 8.13
o 8.14
 Chapter 9
o The Scavenger Village
o 9.1
o 9.2
o 9.3
o 9.4
o 9.5
o 9.6
o 9.7
o 9.8
o 9.9
o 9.10
o 9.11
o 9.12
o 9.13
o 9.14
 Chapter 10
o Return to the Scavenger Village
o 10.1
o 10.2
o 10.3
o 10.4
o 10.5
o 10.6
o 10.7
o 10.8
o 10.9
o 10.10
o 10.11
o 10.12
 Chapter 11
o The Bridge
o 11.1
o 11.2
o 11.3
o 11.4
o 11.5
o 11.6
o 11.7
o 11.8
o 11.9
o 11.10
o 11.11
o 11.12
o 11.13
o 11.14
o 11.15
o 11.16
o 11.17
o 11.18
o 11.19
o 11.20
o 11.21
o 11.22
o 11.23
o 11.24
o 11.25
o 11.26
o 11.27
o 11.28
o 11.29
o 11.30
 Chapter 12
o The Zoo
o 12.1
o 12.2
o 12.3
o 12.4
o 12.5
o 12.6
o 12.7
o 12.8
o 12.9
o 12.10
o 12.11
o 12.12
o 12.13
o 12.14
o 12.15
o 12.16
o 12.17
o 12.18
o 12.19
 Chapter 13
o The City Centre
o 13.1
o 13.2
o 13.3
o 13.4
o 13.5
o 13.6
o 13.7
 Chapter 14
o The Church
o 14.0
o 14.1
o 14.1a
o 14.2
o 14.3
o 14.4
o 14.5
o 14.6
o 14.7
o 14.8
o 14.9
o 14.10
o 14.11
o 14.12
o 14.13
o 14.14
o 14.15
o 14.16
o 14.17
o 14.18
o 14.19
o 14.20
o 14.21
 Chapter 15
o The Uranium Heist
o 15.1
o 15.2
o 15.3
o 15.4
o 15.5
o 15.6
o 15.7
o 15.8
o 15.9
o 15.10
o 15.11
o 15.12
o 15.13
o 15.14
o 15.15
o 15.16
o 15.17
o 15.18
o 15.19
o 15.20
o 15.21
o 15.22
o 15.23
o 15.24
o 15.25
o 15.26
o 15.27
o 15.28
o 15.29
o 15.30
 Chapter 16
o The Cell
o 16.0
o 16.1a
o 16.1
o 16.2
o 16.3
o 16.4
o 16.5
o 16.6
o 16.6a
o 16.7
o 16.8
o 16.9
o 16.10
o 16.11
o 16.12
o 16.13
o 16.14
o 16.15
o 16.16
o 16.17
o 16.18
o 16.19
o 16.20
o 16.21
o 16.22
o 16.23
o 16.24
o 16.25
 Chapter 17
o The Library
o 17.0
o 17.1
o 17.1a
o 17.2
o 17.3
o 17.4
o 17.5
o 17.6
o 17.7
o 17.8
o 17.9
o 17.10
o 17.11
o 17.12
o 17.13
o 17.14
o 17.15
o 17.16a
o 17.16
o 17.17
o 17.18
o 17.19
o 17.20
o 17.21
 Chapter 18
o The Base/The Offer
o 18.1
o 18.2
o 18.3
o 18.4
o 18.5
o 18.6
o 18.7
o 18.8
o 18.9
o 18.10
o 18.11
o 18.12
o 18.13
o 18.14
o 18.15
o 18.16
o 18.17
o 18.18
o 18.19
 Chapter 19
o Return to the Base
o 19.1
o 19.2
o 19.3
o 19.4
o 19.5
o 19.6
o 19.7
o 19.8
o 19.9a
o 19.9b
o 19.9
o 19.10
o 19.11
o 19.11a
o 19.12
o 19.13
o 19.14
o 19.15
o 19.16
o 19.17
o 19.18
o 19.19
 Chapter 20
o The Push
o 20.1
o 20.2
o 20.3
o 20.4
o 20.5
o 20.5a
o 20.6
o 20.7
o 20.8
o 20.9
o 20.10
o 20.11
o 20.12
o 20.13
o 20.14
o 20.15
o 20.16
o 20.17
o 20.18
o 20.19
o 20.20
o 20.21
o 20.22
o 20.23
o 20.24
o 20.25
 Chapter 21
o The Open Fields
o 21.1
o 21.2
o 21.3
o 21.4
o 21.5
o 21.6
o 21.6a
o 21.7
o 21.8
o 21.8a
o 21.8b
o 21.9
o 21.10
o 21.11
o 21.12
o 21.13
o 21.14
 Chapter 22
o The Metro
o 22.1
o 22.2
o 22.3
o 22.4
o 22.5
o 22.6
o 22.7
o 22.8
o 22.9
o 22.10
o 22.11
o 22.12
o 22.13
o 22.14
o 22.15
o 22.16
 Chapter 23
o The Windmill
o 23.1
o 23.2
o 23.3
o 23.4
o 23.5
o 23.6
o 23.6a
o 23.7
o 23.8
o 23.9
o 23.10
o 23.10a
o 23.11
o 23.12
o 23.13
o 23.14
o 23.15
o 23.16
o 23.17
o 23.17a
o 23.18
o 23.19
o 23.20
o 23.21
o 23.22
o 23.23
o 23.24
o 23.25
 Chapter 24
o The Caravans
o 24.1
o 24.2
o 24.3
o 24.4
o 24.5
o 24.6
o 24.7
o 24.8
o 24.9
o 24.10
o 24.11
o 24.12
o 24.13
o 24.14
o 24.15
o 24.16
 Chapter 25
o The Radio Tower
o 25
o 25.0
o 25.1
o 25.1G
o 25.1a
o 25.2
o 25.3
o 25.4
o 25.4G
o 25.5
o 25.6
o 25.6G
o 25.7
o 25.8
o 25.9
o 25.10
o 25.11
o 25.12
o 25.13
o 25.14
o 25.15
 Chapter 26
o The Battlefield
o 26.1
o 26.2
o 26.3
o 26.4
o 26.5
o 26.6
o 26.7
o 26.8
o 26.8a
o 26.9
o 26.10
o 26.10a
o 26.11
o 26.12
o 26.13
o 26.14
o 26.15
o 26.16
o 26.17
o 26.18
o 26.18a
o 26.19
o 26.20
o 26.21
o 26.22
o 26.23
 Chapter 27
o The Aftermath
o 27.1
o 27.2
o 27.3
o 27.4
o 27.5
o 27.6
o 27.7
o 27.8
o 27.9
o 27.10
o 27.11
o 27.12
o 27.13
o 27.14
o 27.15
 Chapter 28
o The Streets
o 28.1
o 28.2
o 28.3
o 28.4
o 28.5
o 28.6
o 28.7
o 28.8
o 28.9
o 28.10
o 28.11
o 28.12
 Chapter 29
o The Reunion
o 29.0
o 29.1
o 29.1G
o 29.2
o 29.3
o 29.4
o 29.5
o 29.6
o 29.7
o 29.8
o 29.9
o 29.10
 S.1
o The Seaside Farm
o S.1.1
o S.1.2
o S.1.3
o S.1.4
o S.1.5
o S.1.5a
o S.1.6
o S.1.7
o S.1.8
o S.1.9
o S.1.10
o S.1.11
o S.1.12
o S.1.13
o S.1.14
o S.1.15
o S.1.16
o S.1.17
o S.1.18
o S.1.19
o S.1.20
o S.1.21
o S.1.21a
 S.2
o The Cult
o S.2.1
o S.2.2
o S.2.3
o S.2.4
o S.2.5
o S.2.5a
o S.2.6
o S.2.7
o S.2.8
o S.2.9
o S.2.10
o S.2.11
o S.2.12
o S.2.13
o S.2.14
o S.2.15
o S.2.16
o S.2.17
o S.2.18
o S.2.19
o S.2.20
o S.2.21
o S.2.22
o S.2.23
o S.2.24
 Chapter 30
o 30.0
o 30.A
o 30.B
 Chapter 31
o 31.0
o 31.A
o 31.B
 Chapter 32
o 32.0
o 32.A
o 32.B
o 32.C
 Chapter 33
o 33.0
o 33.A
o 33.B
 Chapter 34
o 34.0
o 34.A
o 34.B
o 34.C
 Chapter 35
o 35.0
o 35.A
o 35.B
 Chapter 36
o 36.0
o Lost Ending One
o 36.A
o Lost Ending Two
o 36.B
o Lost Ending Three
o 36.C
o Lost Ending Four
o 36.D
o Lost Ending Five
o 36.E
o Lost Ending Six
o 36.F
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Table of Contents

cards by lamplight, squashed in between the narrow bunks of the

sights, allowing yourselves a moment to appreciate the old world.

You watch people busying themselves with work, dashing between

in silent contemplation for a moment – while a world of possibilities

Bleary-eyed individuals yawn, rubbing their eyes as they stand in

“Yes” – Turn to 2.19.

thought you could stomach it. And so do I. Have faith in yourself,

Look at the flora – Turn to 2.6.

Whatever happened to the previous owners will forever be a

Try to check the weather – Turn to 2.12.

So why won’t your hands stop shaking?

So why won’t your hands stop shaking?

Read the writing – Turn to 3.10, Needs Old World Language.

directions, shouting and pointing to the horizon in an eruption of

hand reaches in you touch something slimy and screech in

“Mam says sploring is dangerous. Gotta stay near the ship.”

Add Cruelty to your character sheet.

“Ah, you’re a miracle worker!” he laughs, slapping a hand on your

Add Ship’s Token (O.23) to your inventory.

through the camp where just as much attention is paid to you as

Ask to go to the ship – Turn to 7.2.

You go to ask what’s happening when the question is answered for

running off into the horizon, back to their base.

Add Instability to your character sheet.

Add Resolve to your character sheet.

Help the woman – Turn to 8.7.

seems quite attached to this animal, both as a worker and as a pet.

world as much as they can, trying to make sure no part of them is

Add Altercation with Phil (E.5) to your character sheet.

Hide – Turn to 10.4.

Visit the large cages – Turn to 12.6.

Inspect the skeleton – Turn to 12.9.

Add Bear Tooth (O.19) to your inventory.

Add The Caravans (Chapter 24, L.24) to map.

something does grab your attention – a statue sitting in the middle

Make a sketch of the statue – Turn to 13.6.

Check the statue against your map – Turn to 13.7.

night before continuing your search in the morning. You forgo a

Humans come and go, pigeons continue.

yourself wolfing it down hungrily, thankful for the hospitality. At the

Add Instability to your character sheet.

“You come from across the ocean?”

Add Priestly Encounter (E.7) to your character sheet.

Add Compassion to your character sheet.

Add Cruelty to your character sheet.

Add Uranium (O.9) to your inventory.

You wonder why you’re the only one locked in a cage.

Strength in numbers – Turn to 16.14.

cell and the first holding building. You’re so caught up in your

Attack now – Turn to 16.21.

fist. He coughs and gurgles before collapsing to the floor in a heap.

of your boots leaves blood-red marks in the unstained white, until

room with a hole in the wall to the outside. He undoes your

library rather than in it. You can understand why.

there’s what’s left of a sign on it – a few faded words and a picture

found something that might be helpful.

Survey the area – Turn to 18.8.

seen many of them, balloons not being a huge commodity back in

throws themselves to the ground for protection, crawling towards

dampened. The moment is short-lived, though, as a siren begins to

Add Meeting Dagger (E.14) to your character sheet.

Add Gaia Seen (E.10) to your character sheet.

Explain why it’s dangerous – Turn to 19.5, Needs Knowledge.