https://contagion.oxfordrpg.com/ 2026-05-16T09:14:46+00:00 https://contagion.oxfordrpg.com/ https://contagion.oxfordrpg.com/_media/logo.png text/html 2026-03-23T23:15:19+00:00 Anonymous (anonymous@undisclosed.example.com) https://contagion.oxfordrpg.com/turnsheet_bureau:1:blackout?rev=1774307719&do=diff Blackout Of all the weapons stores you've been in, the Bastion's is the largest and the emptiest. You look at the three bare spots you've left behind, feeling the cold weight of the guns at your side. It's a sensation you're used to, but still one that leaves you unsettled. text/html 2026-03-23T23:15:29+00:00 Anonymous (anonymous@undisclosed.example.com) https://contagion.oxfordrpg.com/turnsheet_bureau:1:call_of_the_forest?rev=1774307729&do=diff Call of the Forest 15:30. You check your watch again; 15:34. It isn’t like Raindrop to be late, though not exactly unexpected for Nio. 15:37. By now, Strangeness-in-the-Air is stood by you, fiddling with her weapon in a very indelicate manner, like a newborn learning to walk. You impatiently pick at the skin around your nails, running your fingers over your gun, checking your coat pockets. text/html 2026-03-23T23:16:57+00:00 Anonymous (anonymous@undisclosed.example.com) https://contagion.oxfordrpg.com/turnsheet_bureau:1:chambers?rev=1774307817&do=diff Schadenfreude 04:00 You wake up. Right on cue. As soon as the egg timer you've repurposed as an alarm starts to ring, you're already up to turn it off and halfway dressed. Of course, you were halfway dressed when you went to bed already. As if you'd be caught dead out of your uniform, wearing some kind of pyjamas like a slacker. There's no comfort to be had here, not while there's work to be done. You allow yourself a little time to wash up and polish whatever didn't survive the sopor of the n… text/html 2026-03-23T23:15:36+00:00 Anonymous (anonymous@undisclosed.example.com) https://contagion.oxfordrpg.com/turnsheet_bureau:1:experiments_in_zoonosis?rev=1774307736&do=diff Experiments in Zoonosis Nio's rat-traps are like her -- small, wrought-up, and ready to snap. You tell her firmly to take some rest before setting off to place them around the Bastion. It's a Sisyphean task -- no wild place can be rid completely of wild things. You need to save the least worst one for later, anyway. text/html 2026-03-23T23:16:09+00:00 Anonymous (anonymous@undisclosed.example.com) https://contagion.oxfordrpg.com/turnsheet_bureau:1:grant?rev=1774307769&do=diff Homecoming A group of men wander through the hills, with packs slung on their backs and guns in their holsters. Despite the world burning down around them, they're cheery, chatting and whistling and making idle small talk as they wander to wherever they're going. Of course, that ends up not mattering in the end, doesn't it? text/html 2026-03-23T23:15:52+00:00 Anonymous (anonymous@undisclosed.example.com) https://contagion.oxfordrpg.com/turnsheet_bureau:1:hand_crafted?rev=1774307752&do=diff Hand Crafted And so the High Priestess holds us in her hands, molding our skin smooth out of the rough of the earth. Insidious creatures crawl through the cracks of her skin, trying to unfurl her embrace – and yet even as the world becomes ever more fractured, She still holds us together. text/html 2026-03-23T23:16:01+00:00 Anonymous (anonymous@undisclosed.example.com) https://contagion.oxfordrpg.com/turnsheet_bureau:1:heretics?rev=1774307761&do=diff Heretics The light struck down those who turned their backs to Her. The light struck down those who instead faced the shadows and lived in blissful ignorance. It is a mercy, as those who have turned away can not see the beauty of Her creation. You finish your sermon. The room seems more packed today text/html 2026-03-23T23:16:18+00:00 Anonymous (anonymous@undisclosed.example.com) https://contagion.oxfordrpg.com/turnsheet_bureau:1:hunting_high_and_low?rev=1774307778&do=diff Hunting High and Low Your presence is barely acknowledged as you head out the threadbare gates of the Bastion. Your absence even less so, as you pause to tie your shoe before forging your own way into the woods. You do your best to keep your pace steady, crunching through thicketed underbrush and marking down any distinctive trees or rock formations. Remus leads you down a barely visible animal trail, salivating at the scent. You follow close behind, hunched to almost mimic him, concealing you… text/html 2026-03-23T23:15:43+00:00 Anonymous (anonymous@undisclosed.example.com) https://contagion.oxfordrpg.com/turnsheet_bureau:1:juno?rev=1774307743&do=diff Forging Ahead Death comes to all things. The End has proven that well enough. But some things survive... at least, they survive better than others. Food rots, wood decays, people die. Metal, though. Metal is different. It too rusts and withers, yes, but far, far slower. Plus, unlike most things, it can bend and shift and warp and change without breaking. The perfect material with which to build, develop, and protect a civilisation, as history has shown. text/html 2026-03-23T23:16:26+00:00 Anonymous (anonymous@undisclosed.example.com) https://contagion.oxfordrpg.com/turnsheet_bureau:1:live_wire?rev=1774307786&do=diff Live Wire You look down on the corpse of the radio set and exhale. It’s strange; what once would’ve seemed like just a mess of metal now feels as visceral as wiry sinews and tendons. But you steel yourself to the task. Eddy leaves you to your own devices for the most part, which suits you just splendidly. text/html 2026-03-23T23:16:37+00:00 Anonymous (anonymous@undisclosed.example.com) https://contagion.oxfordrpg.com/turnsheet_bureau:1:man_down?rev=1774307797&do=diff Man Down You've not seen a weapons store before the Bastion's. You wonder if they're supposed to feel this empty and cavernous. Raindrop is picking out three guns, and tucking them under her coat. You've got your own. The cold weight of the firearm is alien to you, still. More comforting is the soft fabric of the shirt you've brought for Lottie, tied around your waist. text/html 2026-03-23T23:17:06+00:00 Anonymous (anonymous@undisclosed.example.com) https://contagion.oxfordrpg.com/turnsheet_bureau:1:squaring_the_circle?rev=1774307826&do=diff Squaring the Circle There’s no place like home. And this damned geometry won’t let you forget it. You trek, a line extruding from the ragged square that is the Bastion. Raindrop and Nio’s lateness might have put you at ease -- splintering that sacred schedule text/html 2026-03-23T23:17:17+00:00 Anonymous (anonymous@undisclosed.example.com) https://contagion.oxfordrpg.com/turnsheet_bureau:1:the_world_below?rev=1774307837&do=diff The World Below It's just another dreary summer morning, 5 days since almost everyone was gathered, flitting about, worrying about a hole in a fence, or scurvy, or Lottie’s arm. The community felt so much more alive then than it does now as you stand alone, in front of a metal goliath, no longer shaking from the gusts of wind, but nonetheless unsteady. A flash of neon enters your vision. text/html 2026-03-23T23:17:27+00:00 Anonymous (anonymous@undisclosed.example.com) https://contagion.oxfordrpg.com/turnsheet_bureau:1:to_scavenge?rev=1774307847&do=diff To Scavenge Until | Has Found What | Seeks An older man's recollections cannot count for nothing. The hours before the expedition trickle slowly away, each wiped out as the next begins. Grant Odys is slow to mark a route out through the map, slower still to share it with you, and lingers over his supply pack. Planning something, perhaps, or is it trepidation? Or merely his age, catching up to him at last, though strength remains yet in his shoulders and concealed within the weight of experience…