Friday, April 1, 2011

Session 8 summary

Where our heroes take some time off after a long day’s scavenging, Craig introduces the local population to Radroach cuisine and both Craig (accepts) and Rhiannon (declines) get offered jobs.


Featuring:

- Craig: Good natured Super Mutant, skilled hunter and surprisingly adequate improvisational cook;

- Rhiannon: Vault 21 outcast, inquisitive young woman still unspoiled by her time in the wastes;


For the second time that day the party emerged from the entrance to the waste yard tunnels, leaving them with some additional loot and a sack of freshly killed Radroaches to find that the sun was about to set over the town of Landfill and the gates to the yard would soon be locked. However Hannibal, the strange physician they had encountered in the belly of the mountain, decided to turn back and go down the tunnels once more, saying he had still had some work to do. Though his medical skills had proven invaluable earlier after their disturbance of a nest of Radroaches had taken a nasty turn, the remainder of the group was slightly relieved to see the man with the unnerving grin go his separate way.
Trailing after the other prospectors, the group passed by the company store and, being in dire financial straits, decided to try and sell some of the items they found. The old, battered field radio proved to beyond any hope of repair even for a technician of Rhiannon’s skill and was salvaged for spare parts. They instead settled on selling the grenades and flares, getting a reasonable price for them from the shrewd company clerk behind the counter. A few hundred caps the richer they returned to town, the darkness settling in around them. The fires of the few food stalls at the northern edge of town caught their attention. Rhiannon decided to treat herself to a nicely roasted haunch of Pigrat, while Craig sensed a good opportunity to try and unload his stock of roaches. He managed to persuade the vendor to let him use his stall to prepare and sell roasted Radroach, promising him half of the profits. Craig’s exotic cooking turned out to be moderately successful with the locals and the Mutant peddled most of the bugs. The hour growing late, the group called it a night and made for The Hill, the town’s watering hole. They could hear from the street the lively bustle inside, in sharp contrast to the rest of Landfill. Having surrendered their guns to one of the doormen, who remained unfazed even by the Mutant in his tribal dress, they made their way through the groups of drunks and gamblers over to the bar. To their surprise Shane Donaldson, barman and proprietor of The Hill, presented them with a bottle of rotgut, which turned out to be a parting gift from their former road companion Jacob, who had left earlier that day. Congratulatory drinking and leisurely conversation after the successful day of scavenging ensued. Noticing the attention the Super Mutant drew from the crowd and sensing an opportunity to cash in on it, Donaldson offered Craig a job as a bouncer in the bar for the duration of his stay, which the Mutant happily accepted. To Rhiannon he also extended an offer of employment, but the innocent girl from the Vault only took offence to his assurances that as a redhead she’d do well as one of the ladies of pleasure of his establishment. After some more talk about the latest news from around the wasteland the party got a room and headed upstairs for some much needed rest.

Planning to head back north to Rhiannon’s former home Vault 21, the group had three days to kill while waiting for the next caravan heading in that direction to pass by. As on waking up Dexx, Paul and Rhiannon were still troubled by the uneasy feelings in their stomachs, they decided to try and see if a doctor could be found around Landfill. Donaldson pointed them in the direction of Nicholas Dane, a young Followers doctor who took care of the poor and addicts in his makeshift infirmary on the other side of town, whom he paid to give The Hill’s girls a regular check-up. So the group went over to Dr. Dane, in the hopes he might have something to alleviate their condition. The infirmary they found was nothing more than a large shack out of sheets of plastic and corrugated iron like so many in town, with a small tent next to it bearing the emblem of the Followers of the Apocalypse. They were greeting by the very young, slightly nervous though polite Dr. Dane, who ushered them in to run a few tests. There was little in the way of medical equipment or furnishings in the shack. Most of the space was taken up by two rows of cots, accommodating pale, shivering chem and alcohol addicts. After some examination Dr. Dane concluded they were suffering from the first effects of a mild radiation poisoning, which would diminish over the next few days, though the radiation would remain stored in the body, posing a real health risk. The group’s story about finding the toxic dump down below the waste yard confirmed his earlier observations that the people of Landfill in general seemed to have elevated radiation levels, compared to similar towns in the wasteland. Having no access to the proper equipment for treatment however, all he could offer were two doses of RadAway to flush out the rad particles. Having only limited medical supplies himself to try and treat all the destitute locals, he had to demand they’d pay full price or trade an equal amount of other healing chems in return for the expensive radiation drugs. He assured them their money would go to the good cause of the free medical treatment of those unable to pay for it, as paying according to how much one can afford is one of the core principles of the Followers. As there was not enough RadAway to treat all three of them anyway and reassured that it didn’t pose an immediate health risk, they decided to sit it out some longer and go to a clinic once they reached The Hub. They said their goodbyes and returned to the bar, where Craig took up his first shift as doorman. Rhiannon hung around for a rather quiet, uneventful night in The Hill, while Paul and Dexx took to the streets and explored the town some more.

The next morning the group went over to Harlan Clint’s compound, as Clint mentioned in their conversation some days before that he might have need for their services. They found the strong man of Landfill as usual in his office in the well guarded compound next to the waste yard gates. Clint didn’t immediately have any work for them, but told them he’d make it worth their while if they ran into any useful information. He made mention of his plans to have Landfill admitted to the NCR, but even for a frontier town the rampant gambling, drugs and prostitution would pose a considerable hindrance to have its entry approved. Controlling most of the trade going in and out of the town, Clint showed himself very interested in finding out more about who Donaldson’s surreptitious chem and alcohol suppliers are, to try and put an end to Donaldson’s den of vice and debauchery. The group said they would consider finding out more and took their leave, meanwhile thinking over which of these two influential men it would be in their own best interest to see succeed…

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