The First Expedition: The Alchemist's Vault

Of the remaining fungoids, Subeen cleaves one in two, Elara freezes another, and Trix finishes it off with a flourish.

This front room, though large, is piling up with corpses. The corpse of the vine monster they called Ulasht lies in the centre, next to the remains of the guardian construct. Now, the bodies of seven warrior fungoids lie at the south door, through which the elder fungoids escaped. And, the construct that Trix deactivated watches all, frozen in place without its command card.

An eerie quiet now hangs over the humid room, the sound of your laboured breathing the only noise you can hear. Reflecting on the vicious attacks, you realize that loud sounds, such as the falling door bar or the din of battle, seem to attract additional trouble.

Despite Trix's protests, the expedition has decided to retreat - for now. They depart with haste and head into the wasteland, limping their way for Hopesend, the nearest town.

The expedition travels to civilization beneath the sprawling aurora, which grows dim and cold as night descends on the dying moon. They steer clear of conflict, whether with the roaming beasts that stalk the wilderness or the marauders who haunt the shadows. Skirting the elevated causeways of the ruined city and avoiding the treacherous alleys that wind between its decaying bones, they press onward, their path haunted by whispers of what lies unseen.

At last, as the stars pierce the twilight veil, they reach Hopesend. The town clings to the remains of a shattered tower, its silhouette a jagged sentinel against the night. From within, warm light spills like liquid gold, and the distant echoes of laughter and song carry on the chill breeze. The promise of safety seems almost within reach.



Hopesend rises from the wasteland like a weary beacon, built within and around the shattered remnants of a once-mighty tower. Its jagged spire leans precariously against the night sky, while scavenged walls and makeshift walkways speak of survival and ingenuity. The air carries the mingled scents of woodsmoke, roasting meat, and the faint tang of rust.

Around the base of the tower, ramshackle buildings lean into each other, forming a haphazard maze of alleys and courtyards. These structures, crafted from scraps of the ruined city, seem barely able to withstand the biting winds that sweep the wasteland. A perimeter wall, hastily constructed from rusted sheets of metal and reinforced with jagged rubble, encircles the settlement. It stands defiant, if imperfect, against the dangers of the wild.

At the gates, the rangers hold their post. The torches they carry flicker in the breeze, their flames dancing over worn faces that speak of hardship and vigilance. Though the settlement bears the marks of struggle, Hopesend radiates a determination to endure, and a stubborn refusal to let the wasteland claim it entirely.

One of the rangers, a woman with a longsword slung across her back, steps forward. Her expression is hard, but not unkind. She surmises the group's weariness. "You look like you’ve seen worse than just a long walk. State your business and tell it true. Cross us, and the wasteland will have you again before you can blink."