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[helmacon]

Long did your kind live in the warren home, buried deep beneath the earth in an endless paradise of twisting tunnels and crawling bugs. You were roots without a stem, scratched across the world.

No More.
The mountains shattered, the burning sun and smoke. All rubble and death, rot and hate and fire in the tunnels.
You are few now, some small peoples gathered and sullen, you led those who you could find to the surface, that shunned expanse of myth.


It has has been a moon now since you crawled from your graves. The world here is not the one your legends tell of. The glow of fires still light the horizon at night and death surrounds you still. Forests  of burnt kindling and churned earth mark your journey. Death follows here as well. Your numbers grow thinner still. A great wounded beast crawls across the sky.

You find yourself upon a high hill. Some glimmers of life beckon from the horizons here.

You cannot go on like this. You must lead your people to a new home.

You survey the land with your second, his eyes keener than yours. He is younger, and a resolute hate sits in him. The fall broke his body, his best years. He will survive. He is a good ally. He relays all he sees, but the decision is yours.

Of all the desolation he sees, there are three hopes.


A. To the north-west a line of clear blue marks the horizon.

B. To the south, a small oasis of green in these blasted lands.

C. To the east the land is no different, but the sky grows clearer. A river flows.

[Glass]

C

[a1s]

B

[King Zultan]

C

[Haspen]

A

Blessings upon this game.

[Maximum Spin]

B

[brewer bob]

B

[helmacon]

B. To the south, a small oasis of green in these blasted lands.

Green, the color of life. The promise of something lasting.
When you descend from the hill the promise vanishes beyond the horizon again, and you proceed upon faith. It is a long time walking, a long time of their trusting you, even as they stumble and die. One by one little breadcrumbs of corpses across the plains.
There is nothing to betray, their faith holds.

At long and merciful last, a week later you crest an embankment and there it is again. So close even you can see it, the skyward arcs of evergreens living up to their name. You reach it by nightfall, and form your camp on the forests edge. The ground is more merciful here, and bugs and worms spill from overturned soil.
The next day your people settle in, as short a process as that is. You have nothing, but shallow burrows are dug as deep as one can dig with claws. The bugs are no delicacy, but no stranger to your peoples diets. You will not starve here.
The forest is small, but idle wanders report another treeline to the southwest, and beyond the far side of your forest a river.

"Your forest" You turn the words over on your tongue. How quickly one comes to make themselves a part of the world. How tempting to have something of your own again. A thought lingers of a burrow you once knew, lit with moss and warmed by friends and laughter. Clever carvings for all the nooks and shelves, a source of pride once.
You shove the thought away, bunching pine needles around the base of your tree. You've illustrated the wanderers reports on a of surviving scrap of parchment, and you examine it in the last of the dying light.
Tomorrow you'll need to give them more direction. A course of action, least this fragile shelter slip away from you again.


A. You'll have them focus on improving the conditions of the camp.

B. You'll have them make a more deliberate and detailed exploration of your surroundings.

C. You'll organize an expedition back, to recover those stragglers left behind on the journey.

Spoiler: The makeshift map (click to show/hide)

[King Zultan]

B

[Haspen]

A

We gotta be sufficient enough before we send people to look for sticks and stones three forests over, I think.

[RulerOfNothing]

C

[Glass]

A

We gotta be sufficient enough before we send people to look for sticks and stones three forests over, I think.

+1 to the reasoning and A.

[a1s]

A

[helmacon]

A. You'll have them focus on improving the conditions of the camp.

The next two weeks are a flurry of activity as you direct them in building your new home. What were once shallow dugouts collect thin framings of wood and thatch. The disparate foraging of bugs and berries becomes organized with its own little hut. Little baskets are woven from plant fibers and a group of the younger lads start the digging of a well. When the loam turns to clay too tiresome for claws they build basic tools from wood and stone and soon a stone ringed pit provides ready access to fresh water. Small campfires dot the grounds from time to time, and you can feel the abject poverty of your conditions lifting, if only a little.

An atmosphere of hope has begun the permeate the camp and you feel confident the [quality] of your settlement has been notably improved.

As the flurries of activity and innovation begin to die down life in the village settles into a comfortable pace of sustenance and community, and you allow yourself a smile for the first time in ages. Youll allow them a few days of rest here, they all need it. A moment to finally catch your breath for the first time since the end of the world.

Still, idleness will not save you for long, and you begin to turn your thoughts towards the future. What will your next goal be?

A. The world is still very dangerous outside your oasis. You'll make weapons, and organize defenses.

B. A few mud huts and a well are nothing to be proud of. You'll organize a more serious (and permanent) building effort.

C. You'll have your people make a more deliberate and detailed exploration of your surroundings.

D. You'll organize an expedition back, to recover those stragglers still left behind from the journey.

E. The world just ended. You'll let them rest for more than a few days. A lifetime might not be enough to feel at peace again.

[a1s]

A