The pilot scans the manifest tag on the last cargo pod of supplies as the bots move it through the shuttle's hatch and into position next to your party on the dusty spaceport ramp. He stops for a minute and looks your group over with a concerned expression.
"Listen," says the Pilot, "You don't have to go through with this. Everyone will understand if you back out. This is Drelath, the place of fools and heroes. Nobody really believes all these tales of limitless wealth among the relics here. Only the very strongest and most skilled have survived this place, and only a few of those struck it rich on what they found. No one will blame you guys if you come back with me now, and I'm sure you can get some kind of disability allowance on the station. What do you say?"
No one in your party will meet the pilot's eyes and no one makes a move toward the shuttle. The pilot's face hardens.
"OK, you dumb freaks," mutters the pilot as he climbs up to the hatch on his ship, "it's your funeral."
You hear the whine of heavy servos and look away from the shuttle to see an automated hauler as it grabs the cargo pod and maneuvers it onto its load bed. The machine is marked "04" in huge stenciled letters and there is a logo on the side: Drelath Port Authority. The machine moves swiftly down the rough gravel road that leads into the dark forest to the West.
As you watch the hauler go, you hear the shuttles engines firing up. An incredibly loud klaxon sounds and speakers around the ramp blare out in a mechanical voice,"Ship launching. Take cover! Ship launching. Take cover!"
Each member of the group, please roll 2d6 against sensory overload.
<everyone makes it but Bob>
Everyone but Bob clears the ramp and takes cover behind the blast shields on the perimeter. Bob is trying to speak through a clenched jaw, clenching and unclenching his fists and rocking slowly forward and backward. Hot plasma lashes out from the shuttle's lift engines and washes across Bob, melting the pack he is carrying and all his clothes and gear. Bob sustains burns across his entire body and falls dead to the ground as the shuttle moves swiftly into the orange and gold double sunset.
Will anyone try to revive Bob?
Saraswati the Med Tech will use a nanite pack to try to reanimate Bob.
Drugar the cleric will pray to Cashor the Lord of Unfolding for healing for Bob.
They throw meltdown checks. OK. Cashor prays. His moving and emotional plea to the goodness of cashor echoes off the surrounding hills. Nothing happens.
Saraswati applies the nanite pack and Bob's smoking corpse twitches as the tiny devices begin to rebuild his tissues.
"We have a pulse!" cries Saraswati. "Brain waves are up. Systems back online."
"We thank you, mighty Cashor, Lord of events!" chants Drugar. The rest of the party roll their eyes, except Bob who is now being held in a coma by the nanites as they rebuild his nose and ears.
It's getting dark and the forest is suddenly full of a throaty roaring. It could be something like a bear or lion... what do you do? There was a an automated taxi waiting by the road to town, but while you were tending to Bob's corpse, it left.
The group walks toward town. You notice a sign by the roadside that reads "Welcome to Drelath. The place of no return." Beyond is another sign:"Visit Shady Coves Supplies for all your exploration supplies, survival gear and weaponry. We have the lowest prices in town because we're the only shop in town."
Everybody make a throw against obsessing about the animal sounds....
The adventure begins.
16 May 2013, 8:52 pm
