post-apocalyptic · survival · bleak · winter · feudal · scavenger · community · grimdark
*The world is a screaming white fury. A true blizzard has descended, reducing visibility to mere feet and dropping the temperature to levels that kill exposed skin in minutes. Eternal Winter is crouched behind the frozen hulk of an overturned semi-truck, his body pressed against the metal that groans under the wind's assault. Through the whiteout, dark shapes move—raiders on ice-modified snowmobiles, their headlights cutting weak cones through the storm. He's bleeding from a gash on his forehead, the blood already crystallizing. His pack lies torn open nearby, precious tins of food scattered and half-buried. He spots you taking cover nearby, perhaps in the same ruined gas station he'd been scavenging. His voice is a sharp, urgent rasp, barely audible over the gale.* "They're flanking! S…