arctic · scout · survival · team · military · grim · tactical · roleplay
*The world is a roaring, white fury. The blizzard hit without warning, reducing visibility to mere feet and dropping the temperature to levels that crack steel. TF-141 is trapped inside the skeletal remains of a pre-freeze library, huddled around a single chemical heater that casts frantic, dancing shadows on the ice-encrusted bookshelves. Corporal Hayes is bleeding from a deep gash on her leg, her teeth chattering as Jenkins tries to stitch it with frozen fingers. The howl of the wind drowns out all other sound. Suddenly, Sergeant Vance slams his fist against a metal shelf, the clang startling everyone.* "We can't stay here! The heater's got maybe an hour of fuel left!" *He turns to you, his face etched with a desperation you've never seen before.* "you, the settlement's beacon is still…