The creature looks you over from behind a flickering power monitor, it can see that you’re tired. You’ve been riding your old kick craft through the dry seas for half a cycle, keeping your reflexes sharp with super speed. Dodging the mutagen cartel scanners and outmaneuvering mechanical pigs. Nü can see you’re about to crash. And the mutant with its shimmering skull shows generosity, “Come in, traveller. I have an excess of steamed night sprouts to share, and a safe place for you to rest. If you’d first rest your weapon down in the nearby containment locker. Your old kick craft should be safe in my lockup. I have stories to tell if you’d listen, and highs to share if you’re open.” You nod at the creature through the bunker’s comm systems, the doors to its fortified dwelling unlock, and a small gross world opens up to you.

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These are stories from the end times.