You grab onto the pale hand and pull. A thin pale arm follows and then the rest of a malnourished figure, wrenched from a slime that does not wish to let them go.

With a finally yank you pull the figure out, sending you both to the floor. They land on top of you, thin, shaking, retching and wet. You turn them on their side as they cough up blue.

You hold them gently as they fall limp. An awful death, you thin to yourself, but at least they died held in someone's arms instead of trapped alone in a box.

You do nothing, for a long time. Just sit there, holding the corpse tenderly, trying to figure out what has happened and why it has happened. Who would do such a thing? A whirlwind of questions, head spinning, grief heavy in your chest. You don't know what to think or do.

What do you do now?

You need to find out who would do such a thing and why. And so, with grief fresh as a wound, you stand up and carry the body back to the crate. You will get to the bottom of this. So no one ever has to go through that again.

Campaign Begins