Difference between revisions of "Recon Module: Ironclaw Munitions Factory"

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We narrowly evaded a gremlin trap today. Ambushed on a platform above a pit of molten slag, we had to hold our ground against a horde of the snarling beasts as we dodged incoming rocket fire from above. Fun stuff.

Grantz took the full blast of a rocket twice, reacting only with a stagger as if he had discovered a stone in his boot. Sometimes I think that beneath his iron suit is a body of equally heavy iron. It wouldn't surprise me.

Parma has been hard on herself, saying that she should have scouted the trap. But how can you scout a world that is ever in flux? How can you be sure that the path ahead is still safe if you can never be sure it's still even there?

This is a world designed to confuse its travellers. It wants to trap and destroy them. I'm starting to think it's like a cat, toying with its prey before delivering the final blow.

I hate cats.