Mayor Jacob Kane leans against the windowsill of his office, which sat in the side of the towering Government House, a building that presented a great view over the town of New Jericho.
Considering it had only been a few decades since crawling out of their bunker (and a highly lethal plague), human civilization was looking good. Many wood and brick structures clung hopefully to the outskirts of Old Jericho, alive with the bustling of everyday life.
Despite the appearance of optimism, Mayor Kane couldn't help but dwell on what lay beyond the borders of his fledgling town. The town's defenses were meager, and expeditions into the city still struggled in recovering the technology of the past. If his people were to survive, the mayor would need to act carefully and decisively to advance their interests. After all, they could be all that’s left of humanity.
He moves to his desk, taking a seat. Moments later, a frazzled old clerk burst through the door, clutching a stack of documents in his hand.
“I heard you call, Mayor?”
Jacob turns his gaze upwards, having pretended to be preoccupied. “Arrange a meeting with the Chairman of the Council for noon, urgent business. And get me my good suit.”
For now, infrastructure would need to be built, technology discovered, fields sown, and lands charted.
Needless to say, it is going to be a hell of a job, and New Jericho's people need to be quick in order to survive and hopefully thrive in the new world.
It was dawn as the the tribe of the ruined city awoke, and the people of Ogshog would set about gathering in groups over fires to greet one another in the earliest light of the day because the sun would beat down harshly within the hours to follow the chill of the night before. Papa Zorg ambled about greeting his fellow kin with a big snaggletoothed smile as he passed the huddled figures of other Ogres by the warmth of firelight through the rubble strewn streets of the city as he made his way towards the center of the vast cityscape.
The day to come would be busy with preparations for the walls to be rebuilt to keep the bad people outside their city, it had fancy stuff and the Ogre's love fancy stuff.
// T U R N S U M M A R Y //
The Ogre-kin of Ogshog are making preparations for their upcoming celebration of the ancestors and to build a wall to keep the bad people out.
The Volkskammer, or People's Chamber, is the unicameral legislature of the Merkopa Demokratische Republik. It appoints the Council of the State, the Council of Ministers, and the National Defence Council. The president of the Volkskammer is the third-highest position in the government, followed behind the chairperson of the Council of the State and finally the chairperson of the Council of Ministers. These are the fine details of a functioning government, but the MDR is not exactly a government at this point. The socialist republic only had some four hundred citizens in total. The MDR is less of a government and more of a town-community. Most of the positions in the MDR are merely honorary and holds no real power since their functions were not needed. The only governmental entity that matters is the Volkskammer, and that is just a fancier way to say community meeting.
Today is the hundredth session of the People's Chamber. The topics planned to be in the discussion are very mundane things of life. People quickly shuffle into the area, a large inter-section leading to other parts of the station, and take their seats on the floor. A large circle is created and Vorsitzender, or chairperson, Berend Wagner walks into the middle of the circle. Berend Wagner is no longer within his prime, appearing a bit uncanny in appearance, but he is still very respected within the community as a leader and organizer. He yells, his voice echoing throughout the metro-system. “Thank you all for coming to the hundredth session. Today, we have a few matters that need to be looked over. First among them is the major-gas-leak close to the housing area at sections of B-two. Johannes Dieckmann, can you please stand and address the current issue to the people?”
Johannes, an average-looking man, gets up and walks himself into the circle with Berend. He speaks. “As you’re aware, there is a gas-leak in B-two. My team and I have managed to stop the leakage, but we will be forced to clear out the gas in order to prevent any future health issues that might arise from it. People will have to be moved out shortly and A-one, at the sixteenth street of Jfaef, might be a bit overcrowded for the meanwhile. We deeply apologize for any inconvenience that this event might bring. Thank you and as a long-note. Please don’t go near the marketed areas at the intersections of the thirteenth street at N-two and fourteenth way at the eating hall. The beam structures are currently undergoing repairs,” Johannes ends and quickly fast walks back into the crowd and sits down.
“Next, we have an issue with the water-system at the twenty-first street. Günther Maleuda, can you please stand up and address the public?” And so goes on the hundredth session. This is a very important event in the lives of people in the MDR, but it is nothing overly exciting. The mundane side of life is discussed, problems are addressed, people voice new issues and concerns, debates come and go, new changes are announced, etc, etc. Long hours are common and once everything is done, people go back and absorb what they heard. Life continues in the harsh metro.
The banishment from the Furfolk had not been kind nor gentle. To the Ratkin, their grievous insults against the Great Caretaker were too much, especially once some of them had attempted to steal away the Caretaker's hallowed remains. It was under the wise rule of King Skretak the Bold that the rats sworn under Pack Clawcrest had fought the seditious Furfolk, driving back the carnivores' maws with spear, sword an bolt. It was him who him who led the victorious counter-charge at the Battle of Balecrack. It was him who rode out atop the drake-lizard Pelanor with his righteous silvered blade, Fearbreaker, who broke the enemies lines. It was him who lead a host of rat-knights straight against the Lion Lord Redmane. And it was him who was fell by an arrow through the heart, fired from an unnamed Herbivore.
His dying breath was spent counselling his son, Skretak II, on fading lessons of rulership and a prophecy. That the Pack of Clawcrest was destined to form a great kingdom, one that would stand top all other Ratkin dens and warrens, a Highwarren. And that far, far across the Deathless Desert there would be a roost of iron dragons from Antiquity which would be their new home as foretold by the words of the Caretaker. And so, with his father's crown and blade in hand, King Skretak II gathered his people and left their old lives behind, abandoning the Furfolk to their squabbling ways.
Hunger, thrist, raiders, predators, many did not make it through the hostile dunes, but more than enough made the harrowing exodus. In a trial by fire, Skretak II led his people across ancient roads and past oasis springs, vowing he would not be crowned until a suitable home had been built. And thus on the 30th day, King Skretak the Uncrowned led his people to that ancient roost of Lespia International Airport. But to them it was simply Lesa, many of the letters now missing or hanging on by loose screws. And so, by the mercy and the will of the Great Caretaker, the Ratkin of Pack Clawcrest had found their new home of Castle Lesaden to form a new kingdom, a kingdom called Highwarren.
The leaders were gathered. Five chosen now represented the different subgroups within the Accord. Fritz, a tall and quite muscular humanoid with a doberman's looks, spoke for the canines. Barry, a badger-shaped man with round and robust features spoke for the mustelids. Toros, the largest of the five and the least talkative figure might as well has been taken straight out of the greek mythos, as he had features of an ox with horns and all. He spoke for the herbivores that were still here and decided to stay with the accord. Mica was a fox-like being, and represented a mixture of different species of furfolk that mostly classified as omnivores, but didn't share much of a special family tree. Mica was the one to call this meeting so early after the forming of the Accord. Last to arrive was Riss, a fluffy-looking feline humanoid with long whiskers and ears. As she sat down at the worn table, the meeting came to order.
"Well then..." said Fritz. "I suppose it's time we agree upon what path to walk." Mica gave a fangless grin. "Agreed! How exciting, the first thing we'll ever agree upon! Other than the accords, I mean..."
And so the gathering commenced, to decide the future of the Voren Accord . . .
Mayor Kane’s reflections were sound: Despite the hardships of war, hunger and plague, the perseverance of humanity, which has sustained it ever since its inception at the caring and almighty hands of the Supreme Being, cannot be broken by something as fickle and inconsequential as the Apocalypse. The fate of 99% of the planet’s population may yet not be the fate of the Jerichians, and the mayor and his compatriots will do their best to ensure this.
Of course, the mayor and everyone else in town know very well that avoiding this fate will take work - a lot of work. While the Jerichians were lucky enough to have saved machinery from the Age Before the Great Evil, few resources are as coveted as an intact fabricator. The Old Jerichians must’ve been gods of engineering, for this machine can turn worthless scrap into tools, parts and equipment. There is just one small problem - and it’s a big one: It would seem that no one remembers how this fabricator works - and no one wants to open it up either. What if something breaks? What will that mean for the town? For now, it is an invaluable asset to the continued existence of New Jericho, and it is in everyone’s interest that it remains as such for however long it can. Perhaps, if only someone in their town could be convinced to do it, they could send someone out into the wild to search for more technology like it, to learn? Or perhaps they could open a small, insignificant part of it in a desperate hope to understand this machinery?
The question of the fabricator is not the only one on the mayor’s mind: Just last week, it happened. Oh yes - these reports have trickled in every few months for the past ten years, but since the sightings in these reports have been vague and ambiguous, the town has never felt the need to act upon them. However, this time, a fisherman came face-to-face with a creature so foul he could barely stomach the sight: A roach, only the size of a pig. Its face had been covered in a white foam, and it had approached the fisherman with slow, malicious steps, no doubt with the intent to eat him. After the fisherman had shared his tale, there followed more reports of sightings - roaches everywhere, hiding in plain sight all throughout the ruins. For now, they seem only observant - ominously so. This will be another challenge for the townsfolk to deal with.
Perhaps the mayor will see to these matters immediately? Or perhaps there are more pressing concerns that must be dealt with first - the lack of food, the state of the militia, the morale of a people still harbouring trauma from the old plague? It truly is as the mayor thought: It is going to be a hell of a job, and New Jericho's people need to be quick in order to survive and hopefully thrive in the new world.
Population: 160 men; 140 women; 100 children (total of 400). Military: No standing military. Militia able to conscript up to 24% of adult male population. Food level: Average. Resources:
Industrial fabricator (can be used to increase success chance of improve food, improve infrastructure and improve military technology actions).
Wealth: Poor. Trade: Nonexistant Growth: Decent. Morale: 60%; impacted by memories of the fallen. Foreign relations: Unknown roachfolk - neutral.
A) Improve food B) Improve military technology C) Improve infrastructure D) Improve culture E) Explore F) Improve resources/technology G) Prospect the land H) Expand military I) Take diplomatic action X) Other
The Ogshog Tribe
Hail, Papa Zorg, (unfortunate) direct descendant of Big Papa Grorgnarf, Papa-in-Charge of Ogshog, the Ruined City. Your lumbering and god-awful people await your orders as you do your very best to delay your inevitable doom at the hands of the elements. The day as come, as Papa remarks, to construct great defensive works to keep out the bad things from the pits where ogrekind keep their fancy things (ogres love fancy things). Of course, one can always question the need for a wall in the middle of nowhere (one must truly congratulate Old Grorgnarf for picking a spot so woefully and hopeless abandoned as Ogshog to build a city, but here we are). With endless deserts on all sides surrounding a dead cityscape only ghosts inhabit, it makes perfect sense to build defensive works. I mean, why not, right?
Or, well, if the Papa thinks of anything else, there was that one guy - wossisname, uh, Lurpfromp, that’s it! - who found this weird green place a stone toss away from Ogshog (about ten metres or so - throwing things isn’t easy for ogres). Could be worth investigating.
Lastly, there are rumours that, about five hundred stone-tosses away, give or take, there’s an ancient, abandoned temple said to hold the remains, and perhaps living specimen, of ancient whoman livestock. This temple, according to the bumbling scouts, is known as a “zuu”. It may be something; it may be nothing. Better go check it out.
I know the future may seem bleak, Papa, but know that when you’ve hit rock bottom (and then dug some more, like ogres tend to do), there comes a point where the universe itself just wants you to succeed at something for once. Whatever you choose to do, know that it will most likely, almost certainly, fail spectacularly. Still, there is a chance - one minimal and unobservable chance - that even your most hopeless efforts will yield unfathomable results. So do your best, Papa, and hope it’s abysmal enough for reality itself to fix it for you.
Population: 80 ogres; 100 ogrettes; 70 oglings (total of 250). Military: No standing military. Militia able to conscript up to 40% of adult population. Food level: Average. Resources: None. Wealth: Poor. Trade: Nonexistant. Growth: Low. Morale: 80%. Foreign relations: None.
A) Improve food B) Improve military technology C) Improve infrastructure D) Improve culture E) Explore F) Improve resources/technology G) Prospect the land H) Expand military I) Take diplomatic action X) Other
The Highwarren Ratkin
Great Caretaker bless you and protect you, King Skretak, second of your name and son of the Bold.
The founding of Castle Lesaden and the kingdom of Highwarren brought some much needed peace and hope for the people - it has been much too long since anything good happened to the Ratkin. Ever since the death of the Great Caretaker, morale has been at a terrible lowpoint, so it was about time something good happened. Still, such events are often short-lived, and so, great king, you must be quick to mobilise your people if Highwarren is to prosper.
Your people have faced the wicked furfolk in battle before, but they are far from the only danger in this world. Castle Lesaden is an oasis in the desert, but a mere stone toss away lay the Miasmic Mires, an endless deathwaste that promises only demise. The realm must be prepared in case toxic evil decides to shamble into the kingdom. It may be advantageous to train knights, or perhaps to build defensive works to ward against a possible invasion. Against the wickedness that lurks beyond the kingdom’s borders, one can never be too prepared.
Then there’s the question of the kingdom’s borders - where do they end? What do these ruins of Lesa have to offer Highwarren? It may perhaps be a good idea to explore them, see what there is to find? Surely the royal pack, the Den Dukes and Pack Barons would like rare artifacts and items to decorate themselves with as to separate themselves from the common folk? A king who wishes to rule for long must ensure the satisfaction of his vassals, after all.
Or perhaps there are more pressing matters? Your recent arrival necessitates building food infrastructure like mushroom farms, and that food can only be effectively gathered with the proper logistics. Perhaps more effective ways can be researched? The choice is yours, great king - help your people prosper in the name of the Great Caretaker.
Population: 260 males; 220 females; 120 pups (total of 600). Military: None. Militia able to conscript up to 40% of adult population. Food level: Average. Resources: None. Wealth: Poor. Trade: Nonexistant. Growth: Low. Morale: 70%, impacted by recent events. Foreign relations: None.
A) Improve food B) Improve military technology C) Improve infrastructure D) Improve culture E) Explore F) Improve resources/technology G) Prospect the land H) Expand military I) Take diplomatic action X) Other
The Voren Accord
Dear citizens of the Province of Ra-Ubi, Gor-Thêb subprovince, town village of Camp Vorne Voren.
The Gorillarch congratulates you on your diplomatic settlement of the recent disputes. As HIS fathers before HIM, the Gorillarch can appreciate a growing settlement fighting for its rightful place in the world. Under HIM, all may prosper, even your weak-minded, subape species.
No doubt you recognise that the recent conflicts have left your lands unpopulated and unworked. The Gorillarch expects you to make use of this occasion to expand your foodstuffs output. According to recent reports to the capital, your population demographics demand primarily meat, which will necessitate livestock. The Gorillarch in HIS infinite wisdom encourages you to search for this post-haste.
Furthermore, as you know, the tax collector will be making the rounds in Ra-Ubi province very soon. Your last payment to the Ministry was, and I quote, “borderline insufficient”, so it may be in your favour to prospect your lands, see if you can find anything of value. The Gorillarch is a generous liege, and all the world’s resources are needed to fuel HIS machine of patriotic warfare against the wicked tree-squealers of the North, so be not afraid that what you find is insufficient - just find something. Who knows, it may even favour your own backwater slum you call a home, as well.
As an end note, of course, I specify again that HE is supreme in HIS wisdom and patience, and if you see the need to address other issues relating to your pitiful little village, then by all means. As long as you have the tax by the time the collector arrives, you will not be subjected to punishment.
All hail Gorillarch Ramses XVII the All-Pharaoh, the Sun-Ruling Silverback, Master of Land, Sea, Life and Death.
Sincerely,
Provincial Minister Scorpio of House Imhotep.
Turns until the arrival of the Tax Man: 4.
Population:
Carnivores: 70 males; 80 females; 50 children.
Omnivores: 60 males; 60 females; 40 children.
Herbivores: 14 males; 16 females; 10 children.
Total: 400.
Military: None. Militia able to conscript up to 40% of adult population. Food level: High. Resources: None. Wealth: Poor. Trade: Nonexistant. Growth: High. Morale: 100%; impacted by food level and recent events. Foreign relations: None.
A) Improve food B) Improve military technology C) Improve infrastructure D) Improve culture E) Explore F) Improve resources/technology G) Prospect the land H) Expand military I) Take diplomatic action X) Other
Merkopa Demokratische Republik
Good day, comrade Wagner, and congratulations on ensuring your people’s survival all the way up to the 100th session of the Volkskammer. The nature, size and complexity of this institution has shifted innumerable times, but its spirit has not. Even as its members represent no more than the colony’s four hundred inhabitants, the legacy of the Party, which has been passed down from one Vorsitzender to the next, remains as strong and steadfast as ever. Good thing, too, because the one thing more dangerous than the Apocalypse is a divided populace in a post-Apocalypse. So let’s not allow it to come to that.
The 100th session of the Volkskammer already forwarded some of the issues facing your people, Vorsitzender: The metro is a safe and stable environment, but it, too, suffers the slow sanding of time, and maintenance or the full replacement of infrastructure is key to ensuring continued existence underground. In a place where neither air nor liquids may diffuse freely across an open flat, gas and water leaks can become your worst enemies.
Then there is the question of food. The tunnels provide safety, but offer little in terms of sustenance. The surface still has leftover storages from the pre- and mid-Apocalyptic times, and lucky scavengers may even find fresh produce growing on the many trees that have sprouted throughout the city. It may be in the colony’s interest to scout these resources and make efforts to manage them more sustainably in order to ensure permanent food sources for your people.
The surface isn’t safe, of course. Merkopa is no longer home to just people, and your scavengers have felt this first-hand. Just a few weeks ago, the worst thing that could possibly happen, happened. A group of scavengers searching for foodstuffs in an old storage facility came across a corpse. Corpses aren’t an unusual sight in the ruins of Merkopa, of course, but this one had gruesome outgrowths sticking out from all parts of its body. A blue fungus seemed to have infected it, though the fungus itself seemed to be wilting, too. What to make of this, the scouts do not know, but old records from previous sessions of the Volkskammer decades ago speak of a terrible outbreak of a disease that infected several scavengers with a blue fungus that seemed to make them act like rabid animals that attempted to eat their compatriots. While that outbreak was contained, it did not come easily, and once again, the MDR must face this age-old enemy.
There are many tasks ahead before the MDR can rise to its former glory, comrade - perhaps some are more important and pressing than those already mentioned - but through the efforts and cooperation of the Volkskammer, Merkopa will surely grow into the pearl of Lespia that it once was.
Population: 160 men; 140 women; 100 children (total of 400). Military: No standing military. Militia able to conscript up to 40% of adult population. Food level: Low, impacted by biome. Resources: None. Wealth: Poor. Trade: Nonexistant. Growth: Low, impacted by food level. Morale: 60%. Foreign relations: None.
A) Improve food B) Improve military technology C) Improve infrastructure D) Improve culture E) Explore F) Improve resources/technology G) Prospect the land H) Expand military I) Take diplomatic action X) Other
L a s t t i m e , i n t h e s t o r y o f N e w J e r i c h o . . .
Despite the appearance of optimism, Mayor Kane couldn't help but dwell on what lay beyond the borders of his fledgling town. The town's defenses were meager, and expeditions into the city still struggled in recovering the technology of the past. If his people were to survive, the mayor would need to act carefully and decisively to advance their interests. After all, they could be all that’s left of humanity.
He moves to his desk, taking a seat. Moments later, a frazzled old clerk burst through the door, clutching a stack of documents in his hand.
“I heard you call, Mayor?”
Jacob turns his gaze upwards, having pretended to be preoccupied. “Arrange a meeting with the Chairman of the Council for noon, urgent business. And get me my good suit.”
N o w , t h e c o n t i n u a t i o n . . .
Mayor Kane enters the conference room of the Council. The place is small for being the legislative heart of known human civilization, and empty, except for Chairman Lawrence Ward and the newly arrived Mayor Kane. They're quiet for a moment, and a palpable tension builds in the air before the mayor breaks the silence.
"Hello, Chairman."
He walks across the room, which is furnished with a circular table and six chairs arranged around it. He chooses a seat next to the chairman, and lays the documents he'd brought on the table. Lawrence finally responds in a deep timbre that matches his large size.
"I understand this is urgent. Is there... A reason why this couldn't be done in writing?"
The mayor exhales, and places a hand on the table. "Great Spirit, Ward. We work in the same building." The chairman mumbles something indecipherable, and shifts in his seat. "This is a matter of extreme sensitivity. Word of this getting out too early may be dangerous, and I don't like to waste paper." The mayor slides one of the packets of documents over to the chairman, who picks it up, quipping in a disinterested tone. "Really now?..."
Lawrence scans the documents, taking on a progressively more perturbed expression. "Roaches? And Sheriff MacLeod has confirmed evidence of their existence?" The mayor nods. "He has. We've dealt with wildlife before, but in isolated incidents. Some reports of these insects go back decades, but the frequency of their sightings has increased drastically. Within the last month, there have been over twenty reported incidents, the most concerning being from the Beck boy. By his account, the damn thing tried to attack him before making off. They show the ability to act in coordination with one another, though their offensive capabilities or motives are an unknown."
Lawrence processes the information for a moment, holding his small head in his chubby hand. He murmurs. "Is this such a big threat? They are just animals, aren't they?"
They mayor responds. "Maybe. But after the sheriff investigating the reports, there's strong indication something else is afoot. That's why I've signed a closed mandate that this threat is to be investigated and prevented from escalating. The sheriff is going to form a posse from the best hunters and trackers available, and get to the bottom of it."
The chairman looks at him for a moment before grumbling. "You want to keep this secret. How will you justify all this sudden movement? The last thing the people need nowadays is a big panic."
"That's part of your job. You're going to pass that land clearing ordinance Walter proposed, and I'll make a statement to the public that the sheriff is going to be assisting in clearing the forest of dangerous animals before we start cutting."
Lawrence sighs, and sets the documents down. "I suppose that's acceptable. The people certainly trust the sheriff, they wouldn't think twice about it if he approves of the mission."
"Perfect. Oh, and there's this other matter, concerning the Old Machine. Once these issues are dealt with, of course..."
The evidence of the new threat surprises the government. The response is delayed by disbelief, but soon the mayor passes a secret mandate that the sheriff is to gather a posse and investigate the mysterious roaches. The best trackers in New Jericho are recruited for the effort, and the sudden movement is explained to the public as the sheriff assisting in a land clearing ordinance passed by the council.
As a side effect, more lands will be available for farming (though a diversion from the bigger issue, the ordinance is completely real), and food production will be able to be increased.
The mayor also communicates with the council about possible ways to get the fabricator working once the more immediate issues are dealt with, and plans are made for the biggest expedition into the ruins since before the plague... All in good time.
X) Other: investigate the origins of the giant roaches, the threat they pose to New Jericho, and possible ways to eliminate or defend against them.
A) Improve food: expand available farmland around pre-existing farmsteads, allowing for more food production to facilitate a higher population.
The arrival at what would become Castle Lesaden was marked with cheers and thankful prayers. The road was harsh and unforgiving, yet here the survivors stood in the shadow of the bus terminal. The night was marked with a (strictly rationed) celebratory feast that honored the dead and reaffirmed feudal oaths. A stolen pig, a war trophy taken during the exodus from the Furfolk, was slaughtered and its meat made for a fine roast for the nobility. All rats were given a drink of tarberry wine, polished goblets slammed into wooden cups and earthen bowls as King Skretak the Uncrowned again swore to raise a mighty kingdom from the ruins of antiquity.
The following morning, what animals survived were tied up or cornered in makeshift pens, holes in the ground that were freshly dug up ringed by containers to make sure that the animals couldn't escape back into the wastes. Crates, sacks and pots were lined up as makeshift walls to divide rooms as their supplies were counted out by scribes and logged. The ratkin had been lucky, most of their food hadn't spoiled beyond what their bellies could handle and what did could go to the even stronger stomachs of their animals. Sleeping mats were neatly lined up into warren-barracks based upon pack-affiliation. It was understood that all of this was a temporary arrangement. Once the ruins were fully explored and settled, the King would once again grant fiefs to his vassals.
Despite the temporary nature, the need for food was ever present. Boxes containing bugs and insects were emptied larger walled pens before rats threw in spoiled food and moss to let the maggots, beetles and ants grow their numbers. Farmers quickly claimed whatever cold, dark area they could for their own mushroom crops. One by one, rotted wood with tiny bulbs were lined up as requests for shelves soon followed. There had already been two open brawls between contested claims as one rat tried to take the empty suitcases found in another rat's claimed area.
As the smallfolk made their new temporary nests in whatever corner or on whatever bench they could find, King Skretak delivered a herald that requested able bodies, stout minds and brave souls for exploratory expeditions. Some of the surviving knights answered the summons while commoners with little else to do also joined the scouting parties. Each one would have at least one veteran warrior and a trained scribe to record and map their paths along side a handful of the levies who armed themselves with swords, clubs, scalpel-spears and bows. Each carrying the stitched-together banners of Pack Clawcrest into the vast empty terminals along side glow stick lights and camping supplies.
Those parties that quickly returned by nightfall were celebrated as their discovery meant that the rats could begin to slowly expand into more and more territory. However, the King wasn't too concerned about the ones that came back quickly. He was more interested in the ones he had sent deeper into the ruins, those larger groups who would be camping out the night. Surely there would be no mythical iron dragons still around here right?
A) Improve Food - Start the mushroom and bug farms
E) Explore - Go deeper into the airport to map it out
Papa Zorg, who unlike most of his kin still had at least a grain of common sense wondered if walls were completely necessary because his people seemed like the only ones out here in the vast wastelands surrounding them except this new information of a 'green' place and a whoman temple stirred up some thoughts in his head.
Papa thought hard, on one grossly deformed hand he wanted big walls but on the less disgusting hand he see that maybe the new discoveries should be explored. It took a long hard few minutes of ass scratching and nose picking to come to the conclusion that he would eat some food then decide what to do!
* * *
It took another hour until Papa Zorg made his decision, and he gathered twenty-five able-bodied ogres in his home; a big official building with serious business stuff lying broken amongst the crumbling remains of the once proud government building where apparently serious business went down (Papa Zorg imagined himself as businessman sometimes), but today serious business was happening and it entailed two things.
"We do big celebration, but you do bigger things!" Papa Zorg began to speak to the ogres he gathered in a very businesslike tone "Lurpfromp tell that there is green place close by, it must mean it good thing because green mean go!" to which the gathered ogres all nodded their heads in agreement even though they had absolutely no clue what their Papa was talking about.
Too busy to notice their obvious cluelessness their Papa continued orating "So you brave ogres do us great deed by finding green place and bring back nice stuff!" giving his children a thumbs-up the other ogres brightened at their Papa's praise.
And so that after high-sun the twenty-five ogres gathered themselves at the gates to the ruined city, where a farewell celebration was held for their scouts. The residents came with their disgusting children and mate partners in droves, warbling crude chants and dancing by firelight long past low-sun which was long after their scouts left to find the green place that Lurpfromp had told Papa Zorg about.
// T U R N S U M M A R Y //
Twenty-five able-bodied ogres were sent out with Lurpfromp to scout out the green place further, and a celebration was held to wish them luck.
A)Improve food
B)Improve military technology
C)Improve infrastructure
D)Improve culture
E)Explore
F)Improve resources/technology
G)Prospect further
H)Expand military
I)Take diplomatic action
X)Other
O P T I O N S S U M M A R Y
X)Other: The residents of Ogshog held a celebration for their scouts, there was plenty of dancing around firelight and many crude chants far into the evening.
E)Explore: Twenty-five ogres including Lurpfromp were sent to find the green place the scout mentioned to Papa Zorg and see what they may find there.
The administration office, the only one of its kind, is a small clean, and white room. Maintenance is not too hard. The only thing that commonly needs to be cleaned up is the dust. Second is the paint but a reprint only needs to be done from year to year. Inside the office is a big round desk with twenty chairs, representing the whole staff team of twenty people. To the sides of the room, there are smaller desks that only host one or two chairs. Scattered about the room are cabinet drawers of different shapes and sizes, storing various vital documents and paperwork. Today, only Wagner and Ottilia Vogel are in the office. Everyone else is asleep.
“How long will they live for?” Wagner asks with a concerned look. On the table, the big round desk, are maps, showcasing predicted and actual radiation levels within the city of Merkopa on the surface. These maps were the former property of the Lespia government before its collapse. Now, these maps serve different people but have the same purpose. Ottilia leans over the table, studying the charts, tables, and geographical features on these maps.
“Some will not make it by their mid or late twenties. Some will. Some will make it to their thirties, but most will be in critical health by their mid-forties. Most of these areas are category three-levels of radiation. Leukemia and thyroid cancers can appear in little as five years after constant exposure. Other types of cancer will take a few decades to develop. Either way, their lives will be cut down heavily,” Ottilia notes, leaning away from her study of the maps.
Wagner nods, taking in the realization. The men and women that Wagner plans to send out to the greater depths of the Merkopa surface will suffer without a doubt. What is more, Wagner does not have much of a choice in the matter. People need food. All that the Chairperson could do is to award honor and titles to the inflicted. “What about the blue fungus?” Wagner inquires.
“I recommend that we tell them to avoid the fungus at all costs. We can’t handle a big outbreak right now. As a safety measure, we will have to quarantine them every time that they come back,” Ottilia suggests to the Chairperson, giving off her utmost advice as a medical expert.
“Can protective gear help offset the radiation?” Wagner wonders, hoping to extend the lives of the scavs. He then stands up and heads over to one of the cabinets, taking out another map, but this one detailed different old storage areas for supply for the long-gone Lespia government in the metro.
“It will, but it won’t stop their deaths from cancers and other complexities from radiation,” Ottilia says as she stares at the map that Wagner just pulled out.
“I’m not gonna just send our scavengers without preparations,” Wagner points to one of the storage holds with an ionizing radiation symbol. “These places have, or had vital protective gear and devices. We need to find some Geiger counters and radiation-protected hazmat suits.”
“You think that these storage units were not looted yet?” Ottilia questions.
“Thirty scavengers will both search the storage units and local area for the supply. It's the best chance we got. Nowhere else does such sophisticated items exist,” Wagner details.
“I trust your judgment...I'm gonna go to sleep now. You should too,” Ottilia suggests as she heads towards the exit.
“I’ll stay here and study the maps a bit more,” Wagner says as he gets comfortable with his seating.
“Godspeed, comrade,” Ottilia states to the chairperson.
30 scavengers go find radiation-protective gear and devices in the metro.
