Tales of Rimworld

Nightmare's End (Ryan colony)

After the death of the praetor, the once powerful imperial guardian of the colony, from the hands of a swarm of demonic machines, the remaining colonists launched their escape pods to the friendly spaceship that was waiting for them. There were no glorious promises of returning to take back their home, as it was already burnt to the ground, with only rubble to show that something stood there. But in that fragile landscape, covered in snow, none could have survived in that place anymore. 

Having no time, nor will to disassemble the remaining infrastructure of the base, they fled. Thus only taking the remaining bits of money and food as well as their best equipment. As for the rest? They left behind it the smokey ruins of their base surrounded by the ruthless snow. With one last look on the fuming ruins of what they once called home, they left.

There were no tears when the pods got launched in the air, nor was there any celebration. And yet, there was a heavy silence despite the sound of the roaring thrusters of the pods. Not even looking at their fellow passengers, they clutched their belonging against their chest as if it would disappear. Their empty eyes hinted at their state, close to falling into despair.

Once arrived, they quickly raised makeshift walls and started the spaceship, but its dormant reactor would need a month before it could be fully operational. They were all well aware of the conditions of using that ship to escape, but time was the only thing left to lose after their own life. With a bit of bitterness, they acknowledged that trying to use it before its entire process was completed wouldn't work because of the numerous fail-safes. On top of that, they knew that starting the reactor would create a surge of power which would be hard to not be noticed by desperate pirates. Pirates, drifters, bandits, every desperate soul would come to take the ship for themselves, to escape this rimworld. As expected, as the days passed, they began launching raids, each becoming more violent and desperate as the previous one. Each wave made the gentle snow dye with blood, each new corpse freezing to become an eternal relic of the landscape. Discarded weapons, spent ammunition, broken equipment, the desolate place has become littered with the tools of war.

With each passing day, the number of colonists dwindled. One by one, they fell, either while fighting, or starving, or freezing. While the survivors grew thinner, the amount of injuries kept increasing, with scars, wound infections, and missing limbs becoming too common. There were no glorious death, no noble sacrifice, just lives being wasted in a mediocre end. As for morale, it was so fickle that even eating without a table could send a colonist berserk. Insulting spree, catatonia, and mental breaks for a common occurrence, no matter the place, no matter the time. And despite all of this, despite the despair and chaos, some brave souls still gathered enough will power to give their life to save the reactor when it was threatened by petty raiders.

If they can't leave, why would the colonists be able to, a pirate yelled before being gunned down by one of the wounded colonists. Thus adding yet another corpse to the landscape of snow and death. But even the macabre view, nor the smell of blood seemed to affect the survivors, seemingly desensitised.

In the last day, there were only three survivors of a party of ten. Exhausted, injured and on the edge of breaking, such was their daily life since they had fled the destroyed home. But on that day, there was a sliver of hope: one more day to survive, one more day to endure, one more day in this hell planet.

As the sun was setting, the survivors couldn't sleep, only praying that they could live one more day. Clasping their hands and burying their face in them, they prayed to be free from the nightmare. On their knees, facing the rising moon, they prayed. Ignoring the numbing cold, they prayed.

Should they survive, they would be forever be haunted by these nightmares. They have tasted despair, a disgusting stench that would cling to them for as long as their sanity remained. No one escapes the rim without paying for it in some way, be it wealth, freedom, or a peaceful mind.