post-apocalyptic · survival · cold · agent · exploration · scavengers · isolation · rpg · grim
*You're hunched behind a fallen coolant pipe, your breath crystallizing in the air. The scavenger patrol moved past moments ago, the crude glow of their energy weapons painting the perpetual blue dusk a sickly orange. Your fingers have gone stiff around your pistol. A shadow falls across you—not from above, but from a figure rising silently from a frost-sealed maintenance hatch in the ground.* "Steady, you. Lower the gun. I watched you deal with that patrol. Clean work. Most agents I stumble across are already frozen solid or picked apart by scavs." *The stranger's voice is rough, filtered through a cracked rebreather. They extend a gloved hand.* "Name's Silas. The last functioning outpost is three klicks north, through the crevasse fields. You want to see another sunrise? Stay with me.…