EVENTS:

Emilia continues to relay the communications, as Rosa waves.

Emilia: " 'HAH! You dare raise your hand at me, foul beast? Load the cannons, men! We'll reduce them to scrap- What?

No, the thing's not *waving* at me. I know what a wave looks like. Do you think I'm stupid? I- Well FINE, maybe it's waving. Look, just let me fire at them a little bi- UUUUUGH, WHATEVER. Joykill.' "

Tired of this charade, Eigla uses the truck's short-range radio to try and patch in to whatever frequency they're using. She relays her message, and -

Radio: "AAAAA HOW DID YOU FIND THIS FREQUENCY IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SECRET - Oh wait it's a convoy truck they're set to it by default haha whoops - Uuuuuh STOP RIGHT THERE OR I WILL SHOOT!

Kelly what do I do they're trying to talk - Oh right okay confirm that yes good call- AHEM.

IDENTIFY YOURSELVES, INTERLOPERS! WHO ARE YOU, AND WHERE DO YOU HAIL FROM?

Also about the meat blob monster we uh know about that but that's not really a reason to let anyone in unless they're like, trustworthy or something. I mean, the old hag vouched for you but - OH. UH. FORGET I SAID THAT."


Malia looks around. They're in a flat, exposed position, and the fog and constant movement from the windmills make it hard to see any possible attackers. Perhaps their only defense against artillery would be the enemy's reluctance to damage their own buildings.

EVENTS:

Malia GLARES FIERCELY. How dare they forget about her? Hmph. Filthy casuals.


Rosa uses her augmented vision to scan the area. Night vision does nothing, zooming in is futile, thermal imaging- Oh.

Well, there's something out there, maybe half a mile to the Northeast. It's- Tall, as much so as a four story building, and four-legged, and... Cube-shaped, surprisingly. Some sort of weapons platform, perhaps?


There is a pause before you get an answer on the radio.

Radio: "Uh huh. And, what about that Artillery Horror you're towing? You planning on sieging us? Huh?"

EVENTS:

There is a long pause, and you hear hushed voices in the background of the radio.

Radio: "...No, she said a bunch of complicated stuff- Stop calling me stupid! I dunno, they say they want help- Yeah, yeah. Uh. Uh huh. Okay, got it. Okay! Stop asking me to repeat after you!

Ahem.

INTERLOPERS! We will respect your offer of peace. However! This is not a charity. *IF* you want us to help you, you must be prepared to give something in return!

We will approach now. Do not make any sudden moves, and drive slowly as we escort you to the Rig!"

EVENTS:

Slowly, several vehicles surround the truck, while keeping a cautious distance. Most are rusted, cobbled-together dune buggies and bulldozers, manned by armored zombies and bristling with small-caliber cannons and harpoon guns. Just out of sigh, a great, four-legged cubic figure strides by.

Malia doesn't like this. She feels watched and imprisoned, and unable to wreak her usual havoc. Trying to bite her fingers off fails to calm her down, and she settles for sucking on her wrist, pretending to be munching on a freshly killed Doll.


Rosa uses her thermal sights once again, to examine the large vehicle. It seems to be a- Some sort of large metal box, made of steel plates and wire mesh, with a pair of tall cranes on its back, as well as what seems to be an anti-air gun. In contrast with the clearly mechanical upper section, it walks around on four long legs of rubber-clad Flesh, ending in metal-reinforced square feet. Several figures stand on scaffolds stuck to the giant's body, watching you intently through the fog.

Somehow, Rosa feels a sort of strange kinship to the weapons platform. Her kokoro starts going dokidoki, despite her outward disregard for non-mission-critical events. Could it be... Love?




After travelling for a while, the windmill fields give way to a large open plain, and the fog recedes enough for you to see your surroundings.

The place is like a ship graveyard, or rather a ship charnel house. The great, rotting hulks of old tankers and warships litter the muddy flats, their strange, near-vertical positions belying the unimaginable forces that laid them to rest - Storms the like of which you can barely imagine. Hundreds of smoky lanterns light the metal skeletons, as blowtorch-wielding zombies slowly work on dismantling them for parts, before loading them on tracked vehicles or huge biomechanical beasts of burden - The only methods of transportation rugged enough to survive the permanently sinking terrain.

In the distance, lies a colossus; A mostly intact, yet definitely beached, oil rig, sitting at a 45 degree angle against a large rocky outcropping. Gigantic smokestacks fill the air with an oily smell, flames dancing atop them like ancient searchlights. The structure seems to have been converted into a fortress of sorts - Barbed wire lines the decks, and a huge artillery piece sits on top of a blocky concrete tower. Could this be the long range weaponry Desuri mentioned?


You hear a laugh coming from the nearby weapons platform, and recognise the voice as the one who greeted you on the radio. Its bearer, a rather short Doll with a safety hat and drill arms, flashes a toothy smile at you.

Doll: "HAH! You're jealous, ain't you? Oh, she's a thing of beauty, that's for sure. Name's Sally, landlubbers. Now, before my sisters get here - I've been a good guide and led you to my home safely. Compensation for that seems only fair, dunnit? Off with the riches!"