TEXT: The Modern Dispatch
  Necropolis Diaries
  Page 1
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  #3
  NECROPOLIS DIARIES
  By Dominic Covey
  This article marks the ﬁrst in a series that will 
  look at the various cryptic locations and struggling 
  communities situated among the ruins of Los Angeles, 
  better known simply as the “Necropolis” by the 
  inhabitants of the Twisted Earth.  A broader overlook 
  of the Necropolis is given in the Darwin’s World 2nd 
  Edition rulebook. These articles will attempt to focus 
  on a speciﬁc adventure location, monster lair, or a 
  community clinging to survival among the ruins.
  Note:  The details of this article are based on 
  the outcome of a play by e-mail game run in 2000 
  set in the Twisted Earth setting of Darwin’s World.  
  Originally titled “Necropolis”, this game pitted a 
  group of players against one another in a grueling 
  competition to take several impoverished groups of 
  survivors and build viable communities among the 
  burnt-out and radiated ruins of Los Angeles.
  However, the locations portrayed here aren’t 
  necessarily limited to Los Angeles; with only a little 
  modiﬁcation you can port the locations and monsters 
  to virtually any post-apocalyptic environment.
  ANAHEIM
  Anaheim, once known as the home of Disneyland and 
  a wealthy population, is now little more than a dead 
  husk, a wind-swept labyrinth of old streets, dusty 
  ruins, and dangerous rubble.  Whatever weapons 
  swept the great Necropolis during the Fall apparently 
  were focused elsewhere when they hit, but here the 
  effects of radiation, ﬁre, and holocaust were no less 
  severe.  Panic, riots, and ﬂight from the city by tens of 
  thousands of inhabitants let the ﬁres go out of control, 
  consuming much in their prolonged burn.  The 
  collapse of civilization, and the eventual death of man, 
  spelled a lonely doom for this once magniﬁcent part 
  of the ancient city.
  Anaheim today is but a hollow, ghostly wasteland 
  of broad avenues, block upon block of burned-out 
  ruins, and built-up stonework where pricey hotels 
  and apartment complexes once stood magniﬁcently 
  along the skyline.  In areas the streets, ﬂanked by 
  tall buildings, become eerie channels for the wind, 
  creating a chilling moan that can be heard for miles.
  In recent years, these ruins were the stomping 
  grounds of a violent and powerful gang of raiders 
  from beyond the mountains, who came to the 
  Necropolis to escape their many enemies in the 
  deserts of the outside world.  Braving the legendary 
  dangers of the San Gabriels, and penetrating this far 
  into the ruins, they found the empty streets and craven 
  savages (wild men) dwelling in the rubble to be easily 
  cowed into submission - and made to serve.  Though a 
  violent and savage society, these former raiders began 
  a burgeoning agriculture among the dusty landscape 
  and even built a monumental stockade from which to 
  command the surrounding miles.
  But their presence, however cruel and brutal, has 
  vanished from the city.
  THE RAIDERS
  The raiders of the Necropolis were one of the most 
  savage groups to rise – and fall – during the city’s 
  grotesque history.  Born from the battered, broken, 
  and scattered remnants of various raider gangs 
  dwelling east of the San Gabriel Mountains among the 
  Deadlands region of the Twisted Earth, these vile and 
  savage refugees retreated from the open, unforgiving 
  terrain of the deserts to the seeming security of the 
  Necropolis’ tall, silent towers and endless ruins.
  The leader of these shattered gangs was a 
  particularly barbarous young prince (aptly named 
  “Kruel” by his followers) and a former underling of a 
  vast tribal coalition’s greatest king.  Having survived 
  the shattering of their great raider band at the hands 
  of the Rangers, Kruel gathered the most powerful 
  
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  Necropolis Diaries
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  remnants of his former tribe under his singular 
  leadership, leaving the rest behind to die in the deserts 
  while he and his cohorts ﬂed over the forbidden 
  mountains to the legendary ruins of the Necropolis.
  The hungry, capricious men and mutants of his 
  people desired glory, conquest, and domination of the 
  Necropolis.  But the going would not be easy.  They 
  made quickly for a place near the city’s heart, where 
  they hoped the enemies they had ﬂed from in the 
  desert could never possibly pursue them.  Finding a 
  suitable place they erected a fort, the lord of the bandit 
  clans ordered his men into the ruins to begin a new 
  campaign of glorious expansion.
  Numerous ﬁnds were uncovered in the ﬁrst week.  A 
  variety of food sources were located, and the warriors 
  indulged themselves grotesquely like kings for days.  
  In these ﬁrst weeks the streets of Anaheim echoed 
  with the sound of gas powered vehicles and gunshots.  
  Though rivals emerged to challenge Kruel and carve 
  out parts of the city as their own, all were ruthlessly 
  cut down and butchered by the Bandit-King and his 
  loyal cadre.  Soon, all the people would genuﬂect in 
  his presence, and fear his name throughout bandit 
  territory.
  Weeks passed, until at long last a strange event 
  occurred – something that would presage a terrible 
  fate to befall all of the raider people.  One day, a 
  giant buzzing “locust”, larger than any ever before 
  seen in the radiated ruins of the city, landed near 
  to a raider patrol somewhere north of their newly 
  constructed fortress.  The creature, sleek, green, and 
  with emotionless black eyes, ﬂuttered it’s wings 
  momentarily in the dry dusty air, made a few strange 
  signs and gestures with its articulated limbs, and 
  buzzed into the air once more before the confused and 
  frightened raiders could chase it off.
  The visit by the gigantic insect was lost on the 
  raiders, who didn’t know what to think of the strange 
  visitor or it’s “message” (which was, ironically, a 
  warning against expanding north into parts of the city 
  LEGEND OF THE NECROPOLIS
  It is well known that the world is a great, endless 
  desert, and sand the only thing that holds up all life 
  and all creation.  A great rolling sea, the deserts of 
  the twisted earth stretch on forever, from the farthest 
  north to the most distant south, from east to west.  
  Old rivers and great highways of concrete may have 
  once crossed this ugly, godforsaken terrain in the 
  time of the Ancients, but now it is all but a great 
  dust bowl.
  But legends sometimes contest that which is 
  common knowledge, and the legend of the fabled 
  Necropolis is no exception – in fact, it is a story 
  known to nearly all who wander the wasteland, as 
  far east as the wind-swept Far Desert, and north 
  into the rugged, bleak territory of the Foundation 
  and their stark monastery-fortresses among the 
  mountains.  Though their litany of somber chanting 
  and pining for Ancient glories drowns out the 
  violent winds between those northern mountains, 
  this tale is something they, especially, will never 
  forget.
  Somewhere to the south, over the San Gabriel 
  peaks – whose own dangers of mutant life are 
  foreboding enough to make them a barrier worthy 
  of respect and isolation - the desolate dry heights 
  give way to a place only a handful have ever seen.  
  A dreamland to some and a horrible nightmare 
  to others, it is said that over the mountains lies a 
  lost city, a dead, lifeless megaplex stretching from 
  horizon to horizon, it’s towering maze of mile-high 
  ‘scrapers covered in a layer of grayish dust, with 
  shadows streaking across hundreds of streets for as 
  far as the eye can see.
  Those few who have seen it, have seen it from 
  afar, on high, from the great San Gabriel mountains, 
  often silhouetted by the eastern sun in all its 
  coppery glory; or by night, when the blue moon 
  casts its haunting cerulean light over the miles and 
  miles of untouchable landscape so far below in the 
  Valley.  Observers skirting the mountains say that 
  the city is alive, that noise can sometimes be heard 
  echoing miles within its twisted, glass and concrete 
  heart – echoing hoots, the distant clang of metal, 
  and screams.  It is no wonder that outsiders from the 
  wasteland have shunned this haunted, dead place for 
  generations – and let the San Gabriel Mountains lie 
  as a virgin barrier to the great ruins beyond.
  But it is this place, the great Necropolis that 
  persists in legends and myths to this day.  Stories 
  quickly vanishing into the haze of memory tell of 
  a city that stretches on for days in all directions, 
  conﬁned only by the great San Gabriels to the 
  north, bleak desolate heights to the east, and the 
  beginnings of the dark and ugly sea to the south 
  and west.  Here, it is said, the streets and even the 
  buildings themselves, rising so many leagues into 
  the sky, are coated in a layer of choking, powdery 
  ash – ashes that stories say are the remains of 
  those millions of Ancients who once lived in the 
  Necropolis, and were incinerated when the bombs 
  fell and turned the labyrinthine streets and lighted 
  boulevards into a chaos of ﬁre and brimstone.
  Whatever the truth, the city is dark, lonely, 
  and forbidding.  It is seemingly limitless in size.  
  Clusters of towering skyscrapers, burnt-out, blown-
  open, and skeletal in their ruined state, stretch in 
  enormous, awe-inspiring rows like the dead husks 
  of a lost civilization that sought to reach into the 
  sky and conquer the gods.  Beneath them, avenues 
  and roads, some as wide as major riverbeds, lie 
  blanketed in rubble, snaking caravans of abandoned 
  cars from before the Fall, and, of course, all of it 
  covered in that same, unsettling soot.
  - From Darwin’s World 2nd Edition
  
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  Necropolis Diaries
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  already occupied by a race of giant mutant insects).  It 
  certainly would not halt raider efforts at colonization 
  of the ruins.  Though its message was cryptic and 
  ultimately unheeded, Kruel’s men were unshaken in 
  their efforts to conquer more territory.  Each day was 
  seeing more and more vagabonds from the desert 
  following the raiders into the city, attracted to Kruel’s 
  banner, and lured by the promise of spoils – women, 
  wine, and power.  Each day the raider community 
  grew larger and larger, and more and more noisome, 
  the sounds of its vehicles echoing like haunting 
  thunder through the old city.  At night, men celebrated 
  with the spoils they ransacked from the ruins, and 
  indulged in the women and captives they stole from 
  the few feeble mutant ruin-pickers that cowered in 
  fear before their awful presence.  Armed with ﬁrearms 
  and muskets, they were unmatched by those few 
  creatures that skulked in the shadows of their great 
  fortress.
  A few minor setbacks struck the raiders in their 
  early expansion, but nothing to halt their arrogant and 
  glorious campaign of conquest.  Exploration south 
  into an old bombarded airport left several of men dead 
  from radiation sickness; later, a rare urban-dwelling 
  mutagon ate two scouts before retreating effortlessly 
  away from the guns of reinforcements.  Many men 
  were disheartened by their inability to stop the thing 
  as it tore their comrades limb from limb, but this dip 
  in morale was short-lived.  Later, scouts discovered 
  a large library left intact in the ruins.  Although they 
  were met by a small community of peaceful religious 
  survivors living in the ruins of the library since the 
  time of the Fall, the raiders merely mocked them and 
  slaughtered them to the last within minutes.  Not a 
  man was lost, and their sanctuary of knowledge was 
  readily ransacked for the community’s gain.
  Soon Kruel’s wild and growing community of 
  misﬁts and blackhearts was visited by an unscrupulous 
  merchant who followed them in from the desert, and 
  whom sold the raiders nearly a dozen beautiful slave 
  women for safe passage through bandit territory.  
  Morale was more than recouped by indulging in their 
  more “base” desires.
  Rather ominously, on the last night of the second 
  month of the raider campaign, scouts burst into 
  Kruel’s private tent with unnerving news – strange 
  bonﬁres were seen to the west – tell-tale signs, some 
  older raiders said, that ghouls – a race of night-
  dwelling cannibalistic mutants - lived in the ruins 
  nearby.
  Only a few days later Kruel The Bandit-King was 
  personally attacked by a mass of ghouls as he took a 
  large scouting party and explored areas to the west of 
  their bandit-fortress.  Though armed with riﬂes and 
  shotguns, and mounted in roaring metal vehicles, the 
  ghouls were just too numerous, emerging at night 
  from manholes, nearby buildings, and from every 
  street to slaughter the raiders as they camped.  Men 
  were butchered left and right - some even being 
  dragged off into the night alive and screaming - but 
  not before Kruel could escape with his life, taking 
  with him a burning hatred for these new, unexpected 
  adversaries.
  While Kruel nursed his wounds with his followers 
  in camp, he secretly began planning a series of 
  defenses to protect against the possibility of a ghoul 
  incursion.  No doubt the ghouls had long dwelt in 
  the Necropolis, and the noisy arrival of Kruel and 
  his gallivanting in the ruins had attracted their evil 
  attentions.  He knew that now that the ghouls were 
  aware of his people’s presence, relentless night attacks 
  would begin.  Like clockwork nightly raids began, 
  raids that only grew in intensity as the days passed 
  and frightened even his most valiant servants and 
  warriors to the bone.
  Though the people cried out for Kruel to abandon 
  the raider efforts, those who spoke in public were 
  brutally killed to make examples for the rest.  Kruel 
  had become obsessed with his self-made “bandit 
  enclave.” Though his people showed terror at the idea 
  of being eaten alive by the packs of green-skinned 
  mutant ghouls from the darkness of night, he refused 
  to give up without a ﬁght.
  Despite the talk, there was little to do except begin 
  erecting a series of questionable defenses along the 
  east – clearing large areas of the ruins for a killing 
  ﬁeld around the fortress, withdrawing the slave 
  workers into the fortress at night. Sentries were 
  doubled, and the size of exploration parties was 
  increased substantially.  But an air of unease hung 
  over the heads of all – the ghouls, they all knew, were 
  watching each and every effort, and planning a way 
  through to strike them as they slept.
  Amid these efforts, a massive sandstorm, never 
  before seen in such magnitude, was seen approaching 
  the entire Necropolis basin from the deserts to the 
  east – visible as a dark cloud, horizon to horizon, over 
  the jagged, inhospitable mountains.  Kruel knew this 
  could spell disaster for food-gathering efforts for the 
  next week or so, and he decided to settle his people 
  down and prepare to pick up the battle against the 
  ghouls once the storm passed.
  The great sandstorm hit harder than expected. Many 
  of Kruel’s subjugated people were killed when a 
  makeshift shelter for a dozen families collapsed under 
  tons of sand.  As the winds began to pick up mid-
  week, and showed no signs of stopping, some slaves 
  took advantage of the chaos to ﬂee their captors.  The 
  civilians, many eunuchs and little more than rabble, 
  began to rise in riot against their raider masters in an 
  attempt to garnish food and water for their own selﬁsh 
  needs before ﬂeeing east.  The rioters were easily put 
  down, and their bodies, riddled with bullets, were 
  cruciﬁed for the entire community to learn from.  
  Yet more misfortune struck the community during 
  this ﬁrst week of the great storm. A small scouting 
  party, moving along the northern frontier, vanished 
  completely into the ruins.  Their three stripped-down 
  vehicles were found by a rescue party, half-buried and 
  apparently abandoned. They were completely ﬂooded 
  
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  Necropolis Diaries
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  with sand and proclaimed a total loss.  The men’s 
  tracks led north for about ten yards before vanishing 
  entirely. No bodies or other signs were found that 
  might have given a clue as to how they went missing.
  One day, as the sand clouds whirled ever more 
  angrily throughout the city, the missing group of 
  raiders sent north reappeared!  They were not 
  altogether healthy, and in their deluded state were 
  conﬁned to the dismal hospice erected by the bandit-
  king for his best soldiers.  All of a sudden, as they 
  were laid to rest in cots and given abundant wine to 
  ease their fevered madness, the men were wracked 
  with hideous pains and convulsions.  Guards and slave 
  servants poured in to assist the screaming warriors, 
  only to be the victims of voracious mutant bugs that 
  exploded from inside the men’s bellies.  Gore and bits 
  of bone erupted all over the chamber, and stunned in 
  horror, those present were slaughtered by the many-
  armed “baby bugs” carried within their unwitting 
  comrades.  Half a dozen men were killed before a 
  Molotov cocktail thrown into the room immolated the 
  three insects.
  It was obvious that the men were impregnated by 
  mutant insect larvae, probably after having collapsed 
  from exhaustion during the sandstorm.
  Kruel was horriﬁed by the graphic news, and the 
  idea of such an alien horror having gotten inside 
  his much-boasted fortress.  Then, even worse news 
  - terriﬁed scouts were sending messages from the 
  north by garbled radio, speaking of an “army of 
  giant mutant bugs” that came effortlessly through the 
  whirling sand storm to strike at their undefended work 
  camps.  Almost everyone in the bugs’ way – man, 
  woman, and child – was taken captive and marched 
  off to the north.
  The raiders’ ﬁrst real war had begun in earnest.  
  Kruel rallied his people through lies, promises, and 
  strong-arm tactics.  Words of vengeance began to 
  drip from the lips of fellow warriors in the clans, 
  culminating in a collective war cry among the gangs 
  that easily drowned out the tearful protests of the 
  subjugated civilian populace in their dismal squalor.  
  To those who wanted escape, Kruel gave it to them – 
  through a bullet in the head.  Riding out in their metal 
  machines – motorcycles, armored sidecars, roaring 
  sedans and convertibles – the Raiders drove north to 
  do battle with their unfeeling, inhuman enemy.
  Kruel had spoken, and the gangs answered with 
  a united brotherhood.  The roar of gasoline engines 
  thundered through the Necropolis as dozens of men 
  and savage warriors gathered for the blooding of this 
  unfeeling, cold-blooded insectoid enemy.
  Leading his men north, gathering supporters from 
  the outlying camps as they went, Kruel chose the 
  time and place for this fateful encounter.  It was under 
  the blinding white-hot sun of mid afternoon that the 
  raiders struck back at this strange “insect” enemy, 
  hoping that in the sunlight the enemy might somehow 
  be weaker or at a disadvantage.  Moving through 
  territory eerily silent and empty, the cars, trucks, and 
  motorcycles of the collected gangs moved north to 
  reclaim what was theirs.
  Up ahead among the ruins of numerous buildings 
  the combined army saw their foe – a pair of truly 
  gigantic insects, each larger than a bus, covered in 
  massive armor plated chitin and bristling with serrated 
  limbs and antennae.  
  Kruel decided to take no chances and ordered his 
  men into battle, racing ahead on steel-clad choppers.  
  Bullets and lead shot ricocheted harmlessly off the 
  two foot-thick chitin at a distance, but undeterred by 
  this minimal effect, Kruel motioned with his ﬁnely-
  tuned pistol for his alliance of gangs to move forward 
  in their cars and begin the real assault.  The pair of 
  massive bugs skittered forward as if suddenly brought 
  to life at the sight of the enemy’s full might, the 
  ground shaking and cracking under their tremendous 
  weight as they came.
  Kruel threw everything at the bugs at the last 
  moment before melee was joined.  The rest of his 
  army came up the middle, down the street, opening 
  with fully automatic ﬁre at the monster beetles.
  When the smoke, dust, and exhaust cleared, the 
  effect was clearly evident – both gigantic bugs lay 
  dead in the street, their thick armor pierced by nearly 
  ﬁve hundred tiny little holes.  Each giant body was 
  surrounded by whitish-green goo that began to stink 
  within minutes of being exposed to the hot mid-day 
  sun, attracting ﬂies from the nearby sewer openings.
  Bolstered by success, Kruel ordered his men to 
  continue north.  It was just before dusk when he and 
  his virtual army came roaring through the city streets 
  into bug territory.  Ahead Kruel spotted what appeared 
  to be a large hole in the earth, leading down to God 
  knows where.  A horrible smell emanated from within, 
  and a telltale slimy residue could be seen on the tunnel 
  walls going below.  Skulls and small bones littered the 
  exterior.
  Abandoning their cars and cycles outside, the 
  raiders were forced to descend on foot.  Though 
  several warriors protested out of fear and better sense, 
  Kruel pointed his gun at the dissenters and prodded 
  them along from behind.
  Tunnels were found to lead deeper and deeper into 
  the ruins beneath the Necropolis, until at long last 
  strange noises began to answer their heavy footfalls 
  in the deep, unnatural darkness.  From the inky 
  blackness of the gooey tunnels and burrows came 
  gigantic mutant bugs, some the size of men and even 
  cars, skittering across the slimy tunnel ﬂoors with 
  nimble dexterity.
  At once Kruel ordered his men to open ﬁre, without 
  a moment to lose.  The unprepared giant bugs were 
  killed by the overwhelming automatic ﬁre and 
  tenacity of their human attackers.  Kruel personally 
  led the men forward, attacking with axes, clubs, 
  and chainsaws these huge armored monsters.  He 
  personally dodged one attack followed by another, 
  until his two bodyguards were scooped up and 
  shoveled into the acidic maws of a pair of gigantic 
  
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  Necropolis Diaries
  Page 5
  beetles, melting before his eyes.
  But the battle proved too much for the bug 
  outpost, even under the ground in their own prepared 
  fortiﬁcations, and Kruel and his men withdrew, 
  victorious.  The bandit leader ordered the equipment 
  of his fallen men loaded into their vehicles, and they 
  pressed on to another suspected “bug hole” on the 
  horizon, in the ruins of Compton.
  Here the tunnels and passages seemed to have 
  made use of the old sewer system; old gang grafﬁti 
  covered many walls, while the stench was almost 
  overpowering, even for the most destitute of Kruel’s 
  primitive warriors.
  To their great horror, as Kruel and his men 
  descended into this hole, the remains of human beings 
  were found dangling from slimy stalactites on the 
  ceiling of subterranean caves, their bodies ruptured 
  from within as if they had given violent birth to some 
  insectoid hosts.  Remembering the fates of their own 
  recently slain scouts, his soldiers cursed their cold-
  blooded enemy and pressed vigilantly on.
  Further they descended into the bug fortress, until 
  Kruel and his men ﬁnally came to a chamber ﬁlled 
  with more and more ruptured human bodies.  In this 
  massive vaulted cave awaited more than a dozen large 
  ant-like bugs, smaller than the “tank bugs” seen before 
  but hideous in their own right.  Each wore armor made 
  from ﬂayed human skin, wielding bone axes and clubs 
  and brandishing spears with fragments of human skull 
  at their tips.
  The battle with these newer, smaller, but more 
  intelligent bugs was fast and bloody.  More modern 
  weapons easily cut the black-carapace creatures down, 
  sprinkling the slimy cavern with their pasty white 
  innards.  Kruel and his men managed to clean out the 
  burrow with minimal losses, but already his army had 
  dwindled from its former strength to a mere handful.  
  Kruel decided it was time to pull back and dig in.
  The raider prince and his men set out to reach a 
  place of tactical superiority and construct makeshift 
  defenses.  Surprisingly, however, as the beat-up cars 
  and cycles came thundering into the area, a small 
  force of giant insects that had come with an uncanny 
  foresight to ambush them.  There was an immediate 
  clash as the two vied for control of the ruins.
  Kruel and his men ﬁred from their speeding 
  vehicles, their combined weapons sprinkling off the 
  hide of these new giant bugs.  The raider leader and 
  his men had never seen anything like them before, 
  like giant beetles with elongated armored antennae 
  towering over their heads and shells.
  Though the volley of raider ﬁre was intense in 
  the ﬁrst few minutes, the forces under Kruel were 
  suddenly taken off-guard as the beetles lined up 
  and raised their antennae into the air.  There was an 
  electric buzz that crackled amongst them, almost 
  loud enough to drown out the sound of the smoking 
  vehicles, followed by brilliant ﬂashes of energy.
  Each giant beetle that still stood generated between 
  its huge antennae a ﬁreball that leapt the distance 
  between them and the raiders.  In an instant one car, 
  then two, were incinerated in violent explosions all 
  over the ruined battleﬁeld.
  Kruel fell off his command car as it careened out of 
  control and exploded in a ball of ﬂames – the bodies 
  of his driver and personal guard turned to ash in the 
  hit.  The raider prince survived, but was wounded.  
  Wiping blood from his split forehead, he looked up 
  to see a motorcycle go out of control as it ran right 
  into the inferno created by a giant beetle’s ﬁreball. It 
  didn’t even come out the other side.  Terriﬁed at the 
  capabilities of these “ﬁre beetles”, Kruel gathered 
  what survivors remained at his side and ﬂed the scene.
  It was just a half-hour past dawn when Kruel was 
  roused from his sleep by the trembling of the earth.  
  At ﬁrst he expected to see reinforcements from the 
  newly created draft come to aid in their fortiﬁcation 
  of their new border territory, but the cries of his mere 
  handful of fellow raiders made the reality all too clear.
  Leading the counter-attack against the human 
  infestation into their own lands was a hideous giant 
  bug covered in grotesque bumps and whipping coils 
  of antennae, its bloated ugly form skittering along 
  on burdened tiny millipede-like legs.  Before it came 
  a vanguard of plodding giant ﬁre beetles, already 
  beginning to hum and glow as they began to generate 
  their murderous ﬁreballs.
  Kruel and his handful of raiders scurried for 
  cover inside their cars, taking shots as they climbed 
  quickly in, hoping to start the engine and escape.  
  The charismatic raider leader was the last to ﬂee, 
  screening his men as they climbed inside, but he was 
  himself blown clear as the entire vehicle was hit by 
  a concentrated volley of ﬁreballs. Kruel was badly 
  burned, his handsome face half-melted off by the 
  searing ﬂames.  His men, and their equipment, were 
  utterly consumed in the ﬁre.  Kruel barely escaped 
  with his life, to rejoin other groups of warriors along 
  the northern frontier.
  News reaching Kruel’s subordinate leaders left to 
  defend the fortress and its laboring population was 
  less than welcome; a costly war had taken many brave 
  members of the community, and Kruel insisted on 
  remaining away from home, unable to answer charges 
  of cowardice and poor leadership.
  What was formerly strong support for the campaign 
  against the insects to the north turned into unrest and 
  civil violence.  Slowly but surely, the dumb, slow 
  bugs were massing their numbers and rumbling south 
  from the ruins of Compton, emerging from the dying 
  sandstorm in sprawling armies.  Huge “tank bugs” 
  rolled over fortiﬁcations and broke through hastily-
  erected raider barriers; alongside them walked giant 
  mutant “ants” bearing muskets and ﬁrearms scavenged 
  from the ruins!  It became all too clear that Kruel 
  and his people have misjudged the bugs as mindless, 
  animal things; they were, it was all too obvious, 
  capable of a cunning intelligence...and adaptation.
  Victories were turning into drastic defeats.  These 
  defeats left the people disillusioned towards the 
  
  The Modern Dispatch
  Necropolis Diaries
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  entire war.  Only a week after being injured in battle, 
  Kruel returned to his great fortress to execute those 
  who spoke against him, including some of his best 
  generals.  But by the time he was done, the bugs 
  had once more amassed a terrible force, and began 
  sweeping down from the north to counter continued 
  raider probes into their territory.  With cold, calculated 
  attacks they crushed all defending forces, even the 
  bravest and most savage raiders, and were now 
  making a direct line towards Kruel’s citadel.
  Kruel had been watching the last remnants of his 
  self-made society of bandits, raiders, thugs, and killers 
  slowly unravel for the last few weeks.  Now, holed 
  up in their mighty fortress under the shadow of old 
  Anaheim’s crumbling skyscrapers, they had come 
  to make their last stand. Kruel was faced with the 
  grim reality that his dream of a uniﬁed Raider empire 
  spreading across the old wrecked Necropolis would 
  never be.  
  Clouds of black smoke rose like pillars into the 
  sky.  Women and children could be heard screaming 
  and lamenting somewhere outside, as precious foods, 
  powered heaters, extra blankets, and other essentials 
  for survival were deliberately burned in a series of 
  great bonﬁres.  Kruel was intent on fulﬁlling a last-
  ditch plan: to destroy everything he and his men 
  could not take with them in their ﬁnal strike into bug 
  territory.
  Just then, as his armies gathered at the front gates 
  of the fortress to start their drive, there was a shrill 
  whistling in the air.  Kruel growled bitterly, realizing 
  now that even this last raid would never take place, 
  the bugs had followed his army in its retreat, and 
  had ﬁnally turned the might of the swarm to wipe 
  the raiders out once and for all.  Artillery shells from 
  some distant site, no doubt uncovered and resurrected 
  by those remarkably cunning insects, began exploding 
  all over the fortress-grounds, lighting up the air in an 
  aura of burning, abyssal light.
  Kruel turned to his men, who had already begun to 
  ﬂee, running back into the compound.  Kruel ducked 
  and ﬁred his huge-caliber pistol towards the advancing 
  wall of gigantic mutant bugs.  From the parapets of 
  the burning fort, his men took shots with their sniper 
  riﬂes, while others leapt into bunkers to ﬁre automatic 
  riﬂes out from the walls at the advancing horde of 
  giant mutant insects.
  After several long minutes of hard, brutal ﬁghting, 
  the bugs begin to press forward.  The front gates fell, 
  as did large sections of wall all around the compound.  
  Kruel pulled back towards the central bunker, leaving 
  his stricken personal guardsmen in the courtyard to 
  face the approaching bugs alone.
  Kruel ﬁred his last bullet, and then turned to slip 
  
  The Modern Dispatch
  Necropolis Diaries
  Page 7
  into his bunker.  But the door was found to be locked 
  shut.  His eyes widened, and he looked up to the slit in 
  the huge iron door, where the face of some battered, 
  beaten woman stared vengefully back at him.  Beside 
  her were another, and another - all women, the very 
  beauties he had once installed in his personal harem.  
  Former captives he forcefully made his own ... now, 
  engaging in the ultimate treachery.
  One of them managed to spit in his face through the 
  slit before it was slammed shut.
  Kruel turned deﬁantly to face his fate.  A smile 
  crept across his face.  At least he wouldn’t become 
  an incubator for those goddamned bugs...  He threw 
  himself forward to attack with his electric sword, and 
  was consumed in a ball of searing ﬁre.
  Though Kruel died valiantly, his people did 
  not.  No one will ever know the ultimate fate of the 
  civilians and wounded warriors who once made up the 
  Necropolis’ great raider community.  It is said that the 
  fortress was largely leveled in the ﬁnal attack by the 
  great swarm, and any survivors likely marched off to 
  become incubators for their larvae...
  ANAHEIM ENCOUNTERS
  Encounters in the ruins of Anaheim are infrequent, 
  especially since the extinction of the raiders who once 
  terrorized the region as their own petty domain.  In 
  their absence (and after their crushing destruction at 
  the hands of the “Hive” from the northern reaches of 
  the city), the city has fallen into even worse decay.
  The majority of encounters in Anaheim will consist 
  solely of a handful of wild animals, having escaped 
  the lands of the Hive.  Most are skittish and will ﬂee 
  on sighting any bands moving through the area.  At 
  night, however, the region is even more unsettling, 
  for lone ghouls every now and again move this far out 
  to prowl through the ruins for possible prey.  A small 
  (but relatively powerful) band of ghouls does live in 
  the ruins of the ancient raider stockade, but they prefer 
  to keep their activities and presence as clandestine as 
  possible, to avoid drawing the unwanted attention of 
  the lair.
  THE RAIDER STOCKADE
  One of the most dominant features of the abandoned 
  cityscape of Anaheim is an ashen, crumbling stockade. 
  The stockade, which looks something vaguely 
  reminiscent of an old-style slave fortress from the 
  colonial period, stands out because it rests in the 
  middle of a large expanse of land cleared all around it.  
  This land, once used for growing modest crops by the 
  raiders’ slave subjects, has all but deteriorated into a 
  choking dustbowl.
  
  The Modern Dispatch
  Necropolis Diaries
  Page 8
  The raider stockade was made from scavenged 
  brick and stonework from throughout the locale, 
  brought back by slaves and erected with the blood 
  and sweat of the same.  The fragile framework was 
  covered in whitish clay drawn from the sewer tunnels 
  crisscrossing the area (before these were eventually 
  collapsed; the raiders discovered ghouls in the area 
  neighboring to the east and took measures to prevent 
  further subterranean attacks) that still burns with a 
  soft glow when the sun catches it.  But the stain from 
  smoke and ﬁre and other signs of some devastating 
  attack reveal that even the fort’s tall ramparts did little 
  to save it in the end.
  GM’s Note:  Parties that approach the stockade risk 
  being seen by its current inhabitants (see below), for 
  they must cross nearly 100 yards of ﬂattened terrain to 
  get to the foot of the walls.  Allow the ghoul sentries 
  in the Raider Village (Area B) and in the Tower (Area 
  H) a Spot check, at DC 15, to notice the party coming.  
  If they are spotted, the ghouls will quietly alert the 
  whole pack and wait in ambush for their new prey.
  A. DEVASTATED CROPLAND
  From the edge of low, broken buildings 
  surrounding the area of the compound, you can 
  see a broad ﬂat area apparently cleared for crops 
  long in the past.  Whoever once tended the ﬁelds 
  surrounding the compound apparently perished 
  (or deserted) long ago as well, for now only 
  dust and rubble can be seen between where you 
  hide and the stockade ruins some hundred yards 
  distant.
  The cleared terrain consists of shallow dry soil, once 
  unsteady cropland, and now utterly barren.  Wind 
  erosion has made bare the efforts of countless slaves.  
  A Search check (DC 15) by anyone in this area will 
  uncover the broken remains of human/humanoid 
  skeletons here and there, marking the spot where 
  dead defenders were dragged to be eaten by their 
  Hive attackers.  Still, anything of use has long been 
  scavenged.
  B. RAIDER VILLAGE
  The only sound to meet your ears is that of your 
  own collective feet crunching on barren soil, 
  kicking up dust as you go.  Here, the great gates 
  of the embattled stockade lay broken open by 
  some tremendous force - and beyond lies a hidden 
  village ﬁlled with skeletons and rubble like some 
  graveyard of horrors.  As you enter under the 
  cool shadow of the towering walls overhead, you 
  see an open area large enough to keep almost a 
  thousand people safe from attack – but littering 
  the grounds, standing like ebony monuments to 
  destruction, are the ﬁre-blackened shells of cars, 
  trucks, and entire buildings.  Once a small town 
  ﬁt neatly behind these walls, but some tremendous 
  battle here left the entire settlement utterly 
  destroyed.
  All is quiet.  All is still.
  As if the sight of the decaying stockade wasn’t 
  enough, entry into the central courtyard beyond the 
  imposing walls is even more eerie.  Under the shadow 
  of the tall, crumbling walls can be seen the refuge of 
  the long-dead raiders; a huge, barren, rubble-strewn 
  “town” lies, littered with the burned-put husks of 
  cars, motorcycles, and even a truck or two among its 
  narrow streets.  All appear to have been destroyed in 
  some catastrophic battle, and skeletons can be seen 
  in driver seats, on roofs, and all over the place.  It is a 
  scene of startling carnage and eerie desolation.
  This place is the scene of an eleventh hour chaos 
  – it is where the raiders made their last stand when the 
  Hive ﬁnally came to eradicate them for transgressing 
  arrogantly into Hive lands.  Fortiﬁed behind their 
  walls the raiders thought themselves safe, but the 
  overwhelming power of the enemy was too great even 
  for their ruthless soldiers.  
  The raiders fought a quick, desperate, and 
  ultimately futile battle here.  All of their remaining 
  vehicles were used, and from the walls they focused 
  inwards to shower the invaders with weapons ﬁre.  
  They fought among the streets, hiding in their shelters.  
  The effort cost the Hive a number of their own, yet in 
  the end the raiders were slaughtered to the last man, 
  and the town all but burned-down.
  GM’s Note:  For most of the day, among the ruined 
  trucks, buildings, and other debris, a single ghoul will 
  be found lurking in town.  The ghoul keeps an eye 
  out on the approaches to the compound, as well as 
  the streets of the walled town, and immediately goes 
  to alert his fellows if living beings are seen or heard.  
  Short of a force from the Hive, the ghouls will prepare 
  for an ambush to garner new food reserves for the 
  coming weeks, either here among the streets or in the 
  tunnels below (see Area C).
   Ghoul (1):  HP 12.
  C. BUNKERS/TUNNELS
  A number of low, squat, concrete “bunkers” and 
  “pillboxes” sit at the base of the great walls, and even 
  inside the courtyard itself.  Each of these seems poorly 
  constructed, but effective nonetheless in their purpose 
  – to provide cover for their occupants while giving an 
  overlapping view of the approaches to the raider fort.
  Getting into a bunker is almost impossible from the 
  outside, since they are only pierced with narrow ﬁring 
  slits. Each slit has an iron hatch that can swing over 
  to cover it completely, though many of these have 
  fallen off or rusted away.  Attacking someone within 
  the bunker would be quite hard, as the bunker affords 
  nine-tenths cover.
  A series of tunnels, dug beneath each bunker, 
  connects the pillboxes to the interior of the compound 
  (see map).  Each tunnel is barely ﬁve feet high and 
  two feet wide, permitting only single-ﬁle movement 
  
  The Modern Dispatch
  Necropolis Diaries
  Page 9
  in absolute darkness.  Turning around in a tunnel is 
  difﬁcult because they are so narrow, requiring a move 
  action to accomplish.
  The ghouls of the compound sometimes retreat 
  to these tunnels during the day to avoid the painful 
  effects of the sunlight, and if the party comes by day 
  the enemy may well be encountered here instead of 
  elsewhere.
   Ghouls (6):  HP 18, 15, 15, 12, 12, and 10.
  Treasure:  The bunkers are each found to be empty, 
  except perhaps for the shattered remains of some 
  poor unfortunate or two who fought to the end within.  
  There is a 10% chance that any bunker will contain 
  a skeleton still armed with a black powder riﬂe (but 
  only one in the entire complex).  The ghouls have not 
  taken these for they lack the intelligence to use them!
  One or two of the underground tunnels may also 
  still contain a crate or two of gunpowder for the 
  defenders’ muskets (another 50% chance of 10-100 
  shots of powder; only two such surviving caches at 
  most).
  D. WALLS
  Old walls, cracked and crumbling, stand over the 
  entire stockade.  From their summit can be seen 
  the entire vicinity surrounding this lost stronghold 
  – the deserted cropland below, and the beginnings 
  of the ruined city beyond.
  The walls of the stockade are accessed via broad stairs 
  on each of its walls, wide enough for four men abreast 
  to ascend at a time.  The walls have suffered from 
  attack, ﬁre, and decay, however, and in many places 
  have crumbled or collapsed so badly as to prevent 
  movement along the ramparts.
  From their summit, one can see anywhere in the 
  compound’s ﬁeld of vision.
  E. RUINED STRONGHOLD
  Central to the village, built on a low rise, stand 
  the remains of what must have once been a 
  strongpoint, a last line of defense for those who 
  died here.  A large squat bunker, destroyed by ﬁre 
  and crushing force, surveys the deserted village 
  around it in silence.
  This was an additional bunker, but stocked with 
  supplies and arms for the raiders to retreat to should 
  their walls be compromised.  The battle for the raider 
  compound didn’t last long enough for a pitched battle 
  here, but the bandit prince (Kruel) attempted to escape 
  here in hopes of evading certain death.  He died 
  outside without ever reaching safety.
  In the end, even the bunker’s strong stonewalls were 
  no match for the ﬁreballs produced by the massive 
  Hive beetles.
  Characters searching the charred ruins ﬁnd little 
  more than the remains of an old strongpoint – ﬁre 
  seems to have ignited a cache of gunpowder stored 
  here, causing the bunker to literally explode; anyone 
  or anything that had been within disintegrated 
  completely in the blast.  Nothing remains.
  F. COMMUNITY GARAGES
  Here the cool shadow of the overhead wall masks 
  a large building erected long ago.  Three huge 
  “bays” pierce the building’s front, revealing only 
  darkness beyond.  The entire area seems clear of 
  human remains, but the wreckage of vehicles lie 
  scattered all about.
  This huge building was built by the raiders for the 
  maintenance of their ﬂeet of vehicles that they brought 
  with them from beyond the mountains, or otherwise 
  scavenged from the ruins of the Necropolis.  Having a 
  number of mechs with some appreciable skill among 
  their ranks, this was no doubt the center of their 
  power.
  This place, as elsewhere, is a ruin.  What used to be 
  a huge workshop capable of supporting and repairing 
  a dozen vehicles at once is now merely a dusty cavern.  
  Skeletons in badly rotted leather armor lie strewn 
  about; the rusted hulks of two or three armored-up 
  autos sit idly in the shadows.  Cobwebs hang over 
  nearly everything.  Old banks of tool chests, tables, 
  and work areas are destroyed – as if thoroughly 
  plundered by some unknown force long before the 
  party’s arrival.
  Treasure:  A Search (DC 15) of the entire garage, 
  taking 1d3 hours, will allow some scavenging 
  of what little remains.  There are enough tools 
  remaining scattered throughout the rubble (apparently 
  overlooked) to comprise a full mechanical tool kit.  
  In addition, one of the “destroyed” vehicles could in 
  fact be salvaged with a successful Repair check.  This 
  vehicle is a Ford Crown Victoria
  G. COLLAPSED FORTRESS
  A cathedral-like ruin stands here, mutely glaring 
  back down at those who transgress into the 
  deserted compound.  Ash-blackened outer walls, 
  and collapsed inner walls, tell a story of ﬁery 
  destruction that left the place a shattered ruins.
  This place was once a grand fortress (by raider 
  standards), where the best warriors of the raider clan 
  made their home, along with their raider prince, the 
  now deceased Kruel.  A church before the Fall, the 
  raiders desecrated the ruin further by turning it into a 
  stronghold with buttressing, reinforcement and their 
  very presence.  The bodies of disobedient slaves were 
  cruciﬁed outside; beneath the place, in collapsed 
  tunnels, they kept their harems of captives, all of who 
  died when the building burned down and the entire 
  citadel came tumbling down.
  
  The Modern Dispatch
  Necropolis Diaries
  Page 10
  GM’s Note:  Among these prickly, dangerous ruins, 
  a Search check (DC 18) will reveal a number of well-
  concealed tunnels that lead into the earth and under 
  the walls to connect the various bunkers throughout 
  the area.  Searching above ground has a 10% chance, 
  per person per round, of causing some kind of minor 
  collapse that will alert anyone and everyone in the 
  compound to the party’s movements (no Listen check 
  required).
  H. TOWER
  Towering over the compound is a single, 
  ramshackle wooden tower (covered), which 
  no doubt permits a grand view of the entire 
  compound and ruins.  A ladder, sheathed in 
  piping (to prevent the climber from being sniped-
  at, no doubt) leads up to its summit.  The entire 
  structure creaks unsoundly in the wind.
  Climbing to the tower top takes a full three rounds.  
  At its summit the tower is found to be a creaking, 
  unsteady structure, barely 20 feet by 20 feet.  Narrow 
  shuttered windows run the length of each side, 
  however, permitting 360 degrees vision from an 
  unprecedented height, allowing a full view of the 
  raider village within the walls, as well as the cropland 
  beyond.
  GM’s Note:  At any given time there will likely be 
  a ghoul reluctantly stationed here to keep a lookout.  
  This ghoul will descend from this perch if the alarm 
  is to be raised, or if ﬁghting is heard elsewhere in the 
  compound.
   Ghoul (1):  HP 10.
  THE GHOULS
  The ghouls living in the ruins of the old raider 
  stockade are survivors of the ghoul enclave that once 
  infested the city ruins to the east, but which was 
  shattered by the onslaught of the great Hive in their 
  drive to dominate the city of Necropolis.  Though the 
  once-mighty ghoul “empire” was crushed and forced 
  underground, many ﬂed their people’s ruin to live out 
  a dangerous, savage existence on the fringes of Hive 
  territory.
  The ghouls living here are a band of escapees that 
  have clung to a pack organization purely for survival.  
  If they cannot secure food in this locale they will 
  eventually move on, ever eastwards, towards the hills, 
  searching for prey while evading Hive patrols in the 
  area.
  If and when the PCs are discovered in “their” 
  stockade, the ghouls will attempt to gather their 
  numbers before ambushing the enemy.  If it is day, 
  they will retreat to the tunnels in the Bunkers (see 
  map) to ambush unsuspecting PCs if they come down 
  after them.  Alternatively, they wait here until nightfall 
  to emerge and take anyone camping among the ruins 
  by surprise.
  If it is night, the ghouls gather en masse and emerge 
  in a pack to confront the enemy, moving between the 
  party and the compound gate to prevent escape.
  In general the ghouls will ﬁght until only about one-
  third of their original numbers remain; at which time 
  they will escape if possible (they value nothing among 
  the stockade ruins and thus will not hesitate to ﬂee if 
  seriously threatened).
   Ghouls, Post-Apocalyptic Hero 2 (8):  CR 2; 
  Medium-size Humanoid; HD 2d8+2; HP 18, 15, 
  15, 12, 12, 12, 10, and 10; Mas 12; Init +2; Spd 30 
  ft.; Defense 13, touch 13, ﬂatfooted 11 (+2 Dex, +1 
  class); BAB +1; Grap +1; Atk +3 melee (1d6+1, 
  claw); Full Atk +3 melee (1d6+1, 2 claws), +1 melee 
  (1d6+1/19-20, bite); FS 5 ft. by 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft.; SQ 
  Necropoli Lore; AL none; SV Fort +3, Ref +4, Will 
  -1; AP 3; Rep +0; Str 12, Dex 14, Con 12, Int 10, Wis 
  8, Cha 3.
  Occupation and Background:  Predator, Tribal.
  Skills:  Climb +2, Hide +7, Listen +6, Move 
  Silently +7, Read/Write (Unislang), Search +2, Spot 
  +6, Speak Language (Unislang), Survival +4.
  Feats:  Alertness, Primitive Technology, Multi-
  Attack, Weapon Finesse (claws, bite).
  Mutations and Defects:  Albinism, Cannibalism 
  (x2), Claws, Sensitive Sight, Serrated Dental 
  Development.
  Possessions:  None.
  
  The Modern Dispatch
  Necropolis Diaries
  Page 11
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  All monster, npc, and trap statistics blocks are open content.   All other 
  content is closed.
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/Dungeons & Dragons [multi]/3rd Edition (3.x)/3rd Party/d20 Modern/3rd Party/RPG Objects/Modern Dispatch/Modern Dispatch 003 - Necropolis Diaries.pdf