by HL TRUSLOVE
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 fu
cking 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 alternati
ve.
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.”
