Buried Secrets
Sentry Log: Gate 4 (The Greater Bailey)
Post-Shift Report | Guard: K. Vance
Aberrant Shift
Status: All clear. Incident Report: Turned away three groups today. The first was a family of five from the Scorched Flats; they had some rusted-out jewelry they wanted to trade for passage. I told them the Bailey doesn't need trinkets and doesn't take outsiders. Sent them to try their luck at the BAO Yard. The second was a lone wanderer with a nasty cough—didn't even let him get within fifty yards. Third was a merchant caravan looking for a "shortcut" through Dominus Columbia. Had to remind them that the only thing short about that path is the lifespan of anyone who enters.
Bravo Shift
Status: Quiet. Incident Report: Only one encounter during. A group of three kids, probably no older than sixteen, looking for "the city of glass." They’d heard the old stories about Dominus Columbia being a paradise. I told them if they liked their skin staying on their bones, they’d turn around and head back to the settlements. They cried, they cursed, they left. Better a bruised ego than a what they would find in there.
Crater Shift
Status: CODE RED – AMMUNITION EXPENDED Incident Report: Shit hit the fan around 1400 hours. A convoy of three reinforced vans approached. They weren't scavengers; they were wearing clean whites and breathers—the "Scientist" types. The lead guy, some fellow named Rodger, claimed they had "High-Level Clearance" from the Ossuary. I told them the Ossuary ain’t in charge here and the Greater Bailey is the only law we uphold.
They didn't listen. When I refused them again, they tried to ram the gate. The Diesel Jocks and my squad opened fire. It was over in less than thirty seconds. No survivors.
Note for Command: We recovered a "Letter of Interest" from the lead vehicle’s glove box. It’s attached to the physical file. It mentions something called "The Repository of the Forgotten". Requesting a cleanup crew for the bodies before the smell starts attracting the Raiders.
Delta Shift
Status: Returning to Standard Protocol. Incident Report: Spent the shift hosing the grit off the pavement. A group of travelers from The Fold showed up around 1800. They saw the bullet holes in the gate and the fresh blood on the asphalt and didn't even wait for me to speak. They just turned their wagon around and hauled it. Saves me the breath.
Fallows Shift
Status: All clear. Incident Report: Back to the usual brand of misery. A woman came by claiming she had a brother trapped inside the quarantine since the “incident”. I told her if he’s been in Dominus Columbia, he isn't her brother anymore—he’s fertilizer or worse. She stayed by the tree line for a few hours just staring, but she moved on before sunset.
A scrap of a copied missive, back side reads:
from the Desk of Sawyer Warren of the Mortuary board of Old’ Lacha
Message reads:
“The only communication I have received from the cloistered society my father took me from came in the form of a blood stained letter. I’ll save the details for our meeting in person, however several points struck me as important. This enclave of “medical practitioners", a term I use hesitantly, maintained a trove of data pertaining to about hundreds of years of disease and plague research. This trove was referred to by them as “The Repository of the Forgotten”. Do not assume by the grim tidings and the dramatic names that these people were foolish or without substance in their scholarly advances.
From the stories my father told me of his kin in that valley, I believe they left behind a way for intrepid scholars to follow in their footsteps. With the news from the Black tide coming from that place I believe that the ones who sent me the letter have fallen, and they left something behind that needs finding, something of either extreme importance to the region or something quite dangerous if left alone. Either way, if that is not enough to earn your support in launching an expedition I have one last revelation from the letter I received.
This order of practitioners had a specialty and a price for their aid. Every valley, town or settlement that faced a plague and sought their aid made the same deal. Victims of disease that succumbed to their illnesses and were unable to return through the Mortis were given over to them. They would perform what we know is a procedure to allow one last day for the living, but afterwards, instead of burial or burning, they maintained an ancient method of mummification, supposedly leaving the bodies to be re-examined by future scholars. They had these by the DOZENS Roger, if that doesn't convince your friends in the Bailey to approve funding then you don’t deserve your position on the board. A time capsule of disease processes and early post-fall pathology data should be enough for you to get me the resources to get people out there and contain whatever might be going on in those mountains.”
Doctor?
Step into the darkest shadows of the ‘Lacha, where the line between life and terminal decay is as thin as a rusted scalpel’s edge. In the high-stakes world of Dystopia Rising, the medical and research path isn't just about bandaging wounds—it’s about the visceral thrill of the unknown.
Why You Belong in the Surgical tents:
Hands-on Procedures: Step up to the table to perform simulated surgeries on realistic cadavers, where your steady hand determines if a soul returns from the brink or stays lost to the Grave Mind.
Pathological Discovery: Dive deep into the laboratory to isolate the knowledge of horrid new diseases sweeping through the wastes, turning raw data into life-saving cures.
The Mortis Mystery: Journey into the heart of the local Mortis, investigating the twisted, biological nightmares unique to the ‘Lachian region.
Whether you are a jaded combat medic or a brilliant, obsessed researcher, this event offers you the chance to peel back the veil of the apocalypse and study the rot firsthand. The local Mortis is waiting for its first victim—or its first cure. Which one will you provide?
