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Paxon

Paxon

The Nomad Bazaar

Somewhere in the wastes

 

Jana was about to answer when a couple of Det's teammates called out to her. The one with some kind of brand on his forehead was asking about technical matters, while the one in big armor was being protective. Her eyes widened another notch when he undid his helmet, getting an even clearer view of one of the more obviously mutant faces she'd seen. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on her," Jana smiled, acting a bit more bold than when she first encountered the Crew. 

 

As they turned toward the Bazaar, Jana went back to answering the question about Greenwood, "Yeah, we got some real nice farmland. But it wasn't always that way. Things were real hard at first, and our land wasn't much better than most..." It was easy enough to see Jana's face light up as she talked about her hometown with a measure of pride. She described some harder days the town went through in a struggle to survive. Not any different than most part of the wastes. So much land was disrupted, radiated, polluted, or blighted that growing enough to feed everyone was a huge challenge, and that was aside from all the other external dangers. "Anyway, in the last years we've figured out a few things. Got a little... lucky I guess you could say. But more than that." She looked like she was about to say something else, but paused. She seemed to brush it away. "So Greenwood grows some of the best crops around. We're not all that big, mind you, but what we grow is the best quality you'll find anywhere."

 

Not far away, at the edge of the lighting that illuminated the workspace around the tank, another figure had wandered near. He wasn't trying to hide, nor would he even accurately be described as "skulking," rather he had drawn close enough for a look but not so close as to be mistaken for violating any sort of perimeter. The slight sway in his stance and the nearly empty bottle held loosely in one hand let on that his positioning was more happenstance than anything thought out. For those with keener vision, particularly those who could see well in the dark, his features prominently marked him out as a mutant. His eyes were spaced far wider on his head than typical, and his watery eyeballs had rectangular pupils like a goat. A knit cap askew on his head only covered up one of the two curled horns that grew from his scalp. Jana hadn't really noticed him come up, but she may have otherwise recognized him as the hunched figure she passed on the way in. "So... s'true then..." he said, possibly to himself but with the unmodulated volume of a drunk, "... The Tank is crewed by some muties. Didn't believe 'ol Slippery Jim when he said so." He punctuated the statement with a rude burp, but the expression on his face was one of pride.

 

OOC

The drunk mutant that arrived isn't particularly important to the narrative. His name is Earl, if you ask, and you are free to puppet him if you want to interact. He's a wanderer, sometimes finding his way to the bazaar to exchange some salvage for necessities and booze. His life is spent on the fringes of even wasteland society, on account of his obviously mutant appearance, which some of your characters can relate to. He's heard the tales, and wandered/stumbled on over to see for himself.

(It doesn't take any kind of roll to actually notice him, though you are welcome to try one out; I'll let you decide if your character can make him out or if they need to move a little closer for a clear look)

Scene / Map

The Nomad Bazaar was a regular stop for the crew of 1A-X B3, at least whenever they could find it. It was mostly located by word of mouth, a very loosely held schedule, and general reckoning. Perhaps a small bit of luck. The component members of the bazaar were an eclectic and often changing bunch. Lead by a small clan of survivors who quickly learned the knack of adapting to the new post-apocalyptic world, they have passed knowledge and traditions down to successive generations who carry on the fluid nature of the camp. Oddball tinkers and entrepreneurs tend to latch on and travel with the nomads for stretches of time. Visitors to the bazaar need to be keen barterers and mindful of the deals they make with the traders within, but they can usually find interesting components for trade, good enough grub, and various forms of entertainment. A modest amount of protection as well, especially when it comes to safety in numbers, but the bazaar is no fortress (not even close), and is much inclined to break apart and run for it rather than stay and fight..

Mechanics

This space will have combat mechanics, if relevant

 

 

Paxon

Paxon

The Nomad Bazaar

Somewhere in the wastes

 

Jana was about to answer when a couple of Det's teammates called out to her. The one with some kind of brand on his forehead was asking about technical matters, while the one in big armor was being protective. Her eyes widened another notch when he undid his helmet, getting an even clearer view of one of the more obviously mutant faces she'd seen. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on her," Jana smiled, acting a bit more bold than when she first encountered the Crew. 

 

As they turned toward the Bazaar, Jana went back to answering the question about Greenwood, "Yeah, we got some real nice farmland. But it wasn't always that way. Things were real hard at first, and our land wasn't much better than most..." It was easy enough to see Jana's face light up as she talked about her hometown with a measure of pride. She described some harder days the town went through in a struggle to survive. Not any different than most part of the wastes. So much land was disrupted, radiated, polluted, or blighted that growing enough to feed everyone was a huge challenge, and that was aside from all the other external dangers. "Anyway, in the last years we've figured out a few things. Got a little... lucky I guess you could say. But more than that." She looked like she was about to say something else, but paused. She seemed to brush it away. "So Greenwood grows some of the best crops around. We're not all that big, mind you, but what we grow is the best quality you'll find anywhere."

 

Not far away, at the edge of the lighting that illuminated the workspace around the tank, another figure had wandered near. He wasn't trying to hide, nor would he even accurately be described as "skulking," rather he had drawn close enough for a look but not so close as to be mistaken for violating any sort of perimeter. The slight sway in his stance and the nearly empty bottle held loosely in one hand let on that his positioning was more happenstance than anything thought out. For those with keener vision, particularly those who could see well in the dark, his features prominently marked him out as a mutant. His eyes were spaced far wider on his head than typical, and his watery eyes had rectangular pupils like a goat. A knit cap askew on his head only covered up one of the two curled horns. Jana hadn't really noticed him come up, but she may have otherwise recognized him as the hunched figure she passed on the way in. "So... s'true then..." he said, possibly to himself but with the unmodulated volume of a drunk, "... The Tank is crewed by some muties. Didn't believe 'ol Slippery Jim when he said so." He punctuated the statement with a rude burp, but the expression on his face was one of pride.

 

OOC

The drunk mutant that arrived isn't particularly important to the narrative. His name is Earl, if you ask, and you are free to puppet him if you want to interact. He's a wanderer, sometimes finding his way to the bazaar to exchange some salvage for necessities and booze. His life is spent on the fringes of even wasteland society, on account of his obviously mutant appearance, which some of your characters can relate to. He's heard the tales, and wandered/stumbled on over to see for himself.

(It doesn't take any kind of roll to actually notice him, though you are welcome to try one out; I'll let you decide if your character can make him out or if they need to move a little closer for a clear look)

Scene / Map

The Nomad Bazaar was a regular stop for the crew of 1A-X B3, at least whenever they could find it. It was mostly located by word of mouth, a very loosely held schedule, and general reckoning. Perhaps a small bit of luck. The component members of the bazaar were an eclectic and often changing bunch. Lead by a small clan of survivors who quickly learned the knack of adapting to the new post-apocalyptic world, they have passed knowledge and traditions down to successive generations who carry on the fluid nature of the camp. Oddball tinkers and entrepreneurs tend to latch on and travel with the nomads for stretches of time. Visitors to the bazaar need to be keen barterers and mindful of the deals they make with the traders within, but they can usually find interesting components for trade, good enough grub, and various forms of entertainment. A modest amount of protection as well, especially when it comes to safety in numbers, but the bazaar is no fortress (not even close), and is much inclined to break apart and run for it rather than stay and fight..

Mechanics

This space will have combat mechanics, if relevant

 

 

Paxon

Paxon

The Nomad Bazaar

Somewhere in the wastes

 

Jana was about to answer when a couple of Det's teammates called out to her. The one with some kind of brand on his forehead was asking about technical matters, while the one in big armor was being protective. Her eyes widened another notch when he undid his helmet, getting an even clearer view of one of the more obviously mutant faces she'd seen. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on her," Jana smiled, acting a bit more bold than when she first encountered the Crew. 

 

As they turned toward the Bazaar, Jana went back to answering the question about Greenwood, "Yeah, we got some real nice farmland. But it wasn't always that way. Things were real hard at first, and our land wasn't much better than most..." It was easy enough to see Jana's face light up as she talked about her hometown with a measure of pride. She described some harder days the town went through in a struggle to survive. Not any different than most part of the wastes. So much land was disrupted, radiated, polluted, or blighted that growing enough to feed everyone was a huge challenge, and that was aside from all the other external dangers. "Anyway, in the last years we've figured out a few things. Got a little... lucky I guess you could say. But more than that." She looked like she was about to say something else, but paused. She seemed to brush it away. "So Greenwood grows some of the best crops around. We're not all that big, mind you, but we have some of the best."

 

Not far away, at the edge of the lighting that illuminated the workspace around the tank, another figure had wandered near. He wasn't trying to hide, nor would he even accurately be described as "skulking," rather he drawn close enough for a look but not so close as to be mistaken for violating any sort of perimeter. The slight sway in his stance and the nearly empty bottle held loosely in one hand let on that his positioning was more happenstance than anything though out. For those with keener vision, particularly those who could see well in the dark, his features prominently marked him out as a mutant. His eyes were spaced far wider on his head than typical, and his watery eyes had rectangular pupils like a goat. A knit cap askew on his head only covered up one of the two curled horns. Jana hadn't really noticed him come up, but she may have otherwise recognized him as the hunched figure she passed on the way in. "So... s'true then..." he said, possibly to himself but with the unmodulated volume of a drunk, "... The Tank is crewed by some muties. Didn't believe 'ol Slippery Jim when he said so." He punctuated the statement with a rude burp, but the expression on his face was one of pride.

 

OOC

The drunk mutant that arrived isn't particularly important to the narrative. His name is Earl, if you ask, and you are free to puppet him if you want to interact. He's a wanderer, sometimes finding his way to the bazaar to exchange some salvage for necessities and booze. His life is spent on the fringes of even wasteland society, on account of his obviously mutant appearance, which some of your characters can relate to. He's heard the tales, and wandered/stumbled on over to see for himself.

(It doesn't take any kind of roll to actually notice him, though you are welcome to try one out; I'll let you decide if your character can make him out or if they need to move a little closer for a clear look)

Scene / Map

The Nomad Bazaar was a regular stop for the crew of 1A-X B3, at least whenever they could find it. It was mostly located by word of mouth, a very loosely held schedule, and general reckoning. Perhaps a small bit of luck. The component members of the bazaar were an eclectic and often changing bunch. Lead by a small clan of survivors who quickly learned the knack of adapting to the new post-apocalyptic world, they have passed knowledge and traditions down to successive generations who carry on the fluid nature of the camp. Oddball tinkers and entrepreneurs tend to latch on and travel with the nomads for stretches of time. Visitors to the bazaar need to be keen barterers and mindful of the deals they make with the traders within, but they can usually find interesting components for trade, good enough grub, and various forms of entertainment. A modest amount of protection as well, especially when it comes to safety in numbers, but the bazaar is no fortress (not even close), and is much inclined to break apart and run for it rather than stay and fight..

Mechanics

This space will have combat mechanics, if relevant

 

 

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