by HL TRUSLOVE
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.
Add Resolve to your character sheet.
* * *
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
“I won’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!” 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.
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.
“Hamish!” you squeak, pointing a shaking finger at the shape. “What is that?!”
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’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 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 un
like 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.