Hell on Earth - Taking Back the Wasted West

A visit from Death

Marty’s Tale—May 20, 2093

Today we faced death and barely lived to tell the tale. A rad storm was moving in and the people of Killian’s Rest asked us to venture out into the wasteland to find some farmers that had failed to check in.

It seemed like a simple enough task. I touched all of my comrades with the power of tolerance so that they could endure the storm as I do. I missed the warm feeling I always get when a storm is near. Before long the storm was on us and visibility was near to nil. We traveled in a pack tied together by rope so that nobody would get lost in the mists.

It was then that we found it. The farm was abandoned, and it seemed that all of the locals were killed. We heard something moving in the dark below. Emboldened by our success in our last encounter with the Sharks I went into the dark. It nearly cost me my life. Down in that basement was a monstrous thing of metal which opened up with hideous firepower. It is no small miracle that any of us survived that first attack.

I managed to disable one of the creatures weapons with meltdown, but he simply switched to his other weapon and fired grenades into us. We managed to wound the thing and it retreated back out into the mists. From there, it played terrible mind games against us. Our Templar companion was nearly crushed by a cow. Another of us encountered a terrible explosive trap as he tried to go out the front door.

Finally the thing returned again trying to finish us off. We fought back with everything we had, and managed to mortally wound the thing. It let out the most hideous laugh and began beeping. We fled the farmhouse moments before it exploded. We barely escaped with our lives.

I am told we are leaving Killian’s Rest soon. Where we are going next, I do not know. I find myself oddly grateful that I am not alone. I never thought that could trust norms.


May 14, 2093

A visit from Death

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