While the newcomers ate breakfast and talked together, about whatever folk from wherever they were from talked about, the two locals shook hands then divided up through the town looking for folk to recruit. Were an easy enough job. Didn't know how many folk the queer strangers were lookin' fer but that didn't really matter too much. Two dollar a day per man, plus ten to whoever found that mine. That were a pretty reasonable wage.
One of 'em run around to the Taxidermist knowin' he might be like to up the price on that cougar to make sure it got caught. Damn things were makin it hard to catch smaller critters. Truth be told the fuckin things were makin it hard to get much a anything done around here. Sure enough the news got Zeke all riled up. Old fool got up and come headin outside to see what were goin on. He seen the town had come alive. Morning was gettin on and folks were kickin up dust, ready to make a buck.
Number o' capable men and a few more weathered or still drunk folk had gathered around to try an' get in on the mine hunt. Couple of older folk, couple a younger bucks with sharps eyes, and a good few that was lookin' like they was just roused from a deep sleep. Ol' Zeke sent his bartender fella into the Bed and Breakfast to talk. He come up and asked the party if'n they weren't going to finish the job and get that other cougar. Said Zeke figgered he could rustle up a few men and get the job done with Kaufmann if he were up to it.
Career (if any) and Skills: While protecting the borders of his home in the Moot as a Fieldwarden Shel spent much time learning to forage for ingredients and to cook traditional Halfling dishes. His culinary interests proved greater than the simple paletes of his people, who never appreciated his genius, leading him to venture out into the world. In the years that followed, working as a Ranger, he learned much about tracking and hunting. When things became difficult he took the opportunity to further research such interests as climbing up cliff sides, camouflaging into his environment, moving stealthily away from danger, hiding until that danger passed, and wishing the baddies would just please go away. His time as a Ranger amidst a Mercenary company taught him to read and write at a basic level in the style of the Empire or of Bretonnians, and more importantly helped him become an accomplished map maker. In battle, he is quite useful at distracting and delaying as well as scouting and fleeing. Shel is quite handy at a distance with either bow or sling, he is passable in close quarters using a dirk as a sword. In a one on one situation with little place to hide, he will likely quickly assist the party by running away from his foe, granting his party an opportunity to ambush that foe as they had most definitely discussed beforehand.
Weapons: Shel carries a well made but quite basic dirk in a Halfling sized buckled belt he had custom made for him. He likes the way he looks with it, like a proper adventurer, but seldom uses it as he prefers to keep his distance. For that purpose he carries a particularly short shortbow on his back with a small quiver of arrows and often has a sling wrapped around a shoulder or around his quiver. He has a small number of quite heavy metal octagonal projectiles with sharp edges.
Attire: He wears a light green tunic with a brown leather apron over it and brown pants, held up by a custom made Halfling sized buckled belt with a sheathe for his dirk. He often wears a chef's hat he bestowed upon himself and carries a large (to him) leather backpack with a padded shoulder strap.
Equipment/Other: Shel has long traveled with a mule, their size being more appropriate for him. He also finds them to be smarter and more nimble than a small horse or pony. He carries in his backpack a small assortment of items useful to him in cooking and map making. It doesn't hold much but the party can generally procure most of what they need when they stop.
Physical Description (as detailed as possible please, pictures not accepted.): Shel has very light green eyes and a mop of curly reddish brown hair. He cannot grow much of a beard, virtually no beard at all in fact, but has voluptuous mutton chops. He is slightly skinny for a halfling, which leads some to question his cooking ability but they simply don't appreciate his genius. He stands at 3'4, right about average for a Halfling.
Mental Description/Personality: Shel thinks quite highly of himself, believing that he holds himself to quite a high standard, and holds others to that same standard. Despite the realities of the situation he often sees himself as brave and appreciates as much in others. He is very proud of his brave approach to the culinary arts and while he will not hold it against those whose paletes are woefully undeveloped he takes quite a liking to anyone properly appreciative of his abilities. He is a very happy drunk and quite susceptible to flattery.
Background/History: Shel Applewood led the happy safe life that it typical of his people. Halfling's don't take up much space, enjoying homes that are small and cozy (even for them) rather than vast and expansive, and that coupled with their famous hospitality allows them to get along rather well. As a young man Shel wanted to follow in the footsteps of his parents who ran a famous bed and breakfast, he wanted to become a famous Chef. At the age of 24 he came to realize that he had gone as far as he would as a Chef without leaving the Moot. The chefs of the Moot lacked the bravery needed to step beyond the shallow pool of their knowledge. Even at such a young age he could learn no more from them. They lacked the courage to try new ingredients and to take brave actions. He would not dedicate the next twenty years of his life to recreating recipes created decades ago by amateurish Halflings who had never ventured beyond the Moot. He would not follow in the their footsteps, but rather would blaze a trail of his own.
Always a rather curious Halfling, Shel seized the opportunity when a large mercenary company was passing through his town. He prepared a particularly sumptuous meal for the company and presented it to them himself, explaining what he had made and how he had prepared it. He had hoped the leader, a stern faced man well past his youth, would hem and haw and heap praises upon him, but instead they simply ate their meals quickly and headed to their rooms. He had given up hope when the mercenary groups second in command came into the kitchen and invited him into the company. They had long had stomach issues, but his cooking had cleaned them straight out. How had he known?
They were not what you would call a friendly group, but alongside them Shel was able to explore the world and devise recipes of his own. He had learned of many long lost practices. He had learned of the proper use of many little known spices. As a Halfling he was rather dexterous and among a crew of humans, particularly among a crew of often drunken humans, he learned how to stay out of the way and (remembering again that they were drunk lonely men) how to stay hidden. On his trips out from camp to gather flora and hunt he learned to scout out the road ahead, and in order to better scout he learned to draw maps. With the tiny hands he was given at birth and the attention to detail he had learned as a cook a regular piece of paper was a canvas, he found to his delight that he was able to make maps that were uniquely intricate.
Since then he has always traveled, his skills as a mapmaker and scout overpowering the curious nature of his cooking. In time the peasants he travels with may come to appreciate his brilliant culinary accomplishments. His last party had proved quite resistant to sampling his latest masterpieces and so he set out to find a new company more appreciative of his adventurous cooking.
I'm interested in joining as a Halfling Fieldwarden turned Ranger, he's also a cook. A brilliant well learned master of hauture cuisinery, in his own mind at least. I'm working on a character sheet.
I too would be interested in joining but know very little about the 40K setting. I really like the idea of people who arent soldiers being forced into acting as such.
"Not looking for work mister. Looking for Lilly. That waitress, you seen her? I, I fucked up. I have a thing for her. Tell her, if you see her, tell her that I'm sorry. I fucked up. I spended the morning waiting on her at the train station. She never showed."
He says all this stumbling about his words and scratching at his face.
"You say $10 dollars and $2 a day on top of that?" a dirty man with a needful look asks.
"I've got some fellas could take you out that way. Don't know exactly where you unnerstand, but we seen abouts where he were goin' with all that gear."
This sounds very interesting. These questions might not be particularly important but I figured I'd ask a bit about the setting for myself and for others who may not be very familiar with it beyond watching movies or the CP2077 trailer.
Where is it set geographically?
New California like in CB2077? New York? Chicago? Seattle? Hong Kong? Tokyo? Dubai? New Delhi?
Also, for folks not super familiar with CP 2020 like me, maybe you could indicate a bit more about the setting. Like is it a very global world, meaning would there be a lot of importation and exportation going on? I assume the answer is yes, but if it were say a more insular setting that could also be interesting.
Is it set in a slum, or in a metropolis, or in a metropolis atop a slum, or in a metropolis next door to a slum?
What form of dystopia? Is there a lot of video surveillance? Are the police heavy handed? If they are are they Judge Dredd heavy handed or Any Moving Taking Place in LA heavy handed? In that regard I'm largely wondering if the anti-establishment aspect of it is solidly justified.
It doesn't seem as though starvation would be a thing, but it does seem like there's probably a huge separation between the wealthy and the poor. Is poor generally so poor there are no augmentations, or are they just less effective/more likely to malfunction?
(I'll edit out any of these questions if I've glossed over the answers, I've already edited the message as I was typing but I might have missed the answer twice)
The Father hadn't much more to tell them, for better or worse. The Ghost Rock may or may not have been what killed his friend, but either way the Father could not lead them to the mine. The best he could offer would be to point them towards some of the townspeople who might know about it. Charles had always operated the mine alone, but in all likelihood someone had either shadowed him to the site or at least made a note of what path he was taking or what direction he headed every day.
It was late now anyway. With that cougar still out there folks wouldn't be too keen to be creeping about looking for that mine. The Father invited everyone there to come join him at the Bed and Breakfast for dinner and a bed. He bid them farewell and headed out that way to oversee the preparation and put any finishing touches on the short prayer he began every dinner with.
- - - The Next Morning - - -
Another day begins in Selina at a very early hour. Even so some have been up for awhile. Cooks from the monastery have to be up before anyone else to provide a breakfast for the travelers heading in and out of Selina. The inviting aroma of a lovingly prepared, if simple, breakfast permeate the Bed and Breakfast. Whether still in bed, sitting at a table, or already outside greeting the morning it would be hard not to smell that sizzling bacon.
In the dining room the shop owners lazily finish their breakfasts, the sheriff sits in the corner keeping an eye on the door while neatly cutting up and eating a large plate of scrambled eggs and flank steak. Outside a number of semi-employed wanderers are grouping up, checking with each other to see what jobs might be available. Selina isn't Dodge, there's a limited amount of work, but there's still just about always work to be done. Among them is the man from the bar earlier, his nose already healing well though still slightly swollen.
That was a question that had plagued the Father since the day Charles came back different, or at least since the day the Father had realized his old friend was changed. It brought the entire experience back for him.
"That's the question isn't it? It's one that's been ticking in the back of my head."
He rubs his wrists in thought, trying to figure out how honest he should really be but deciding to just unburden himself.
"I'm a Father, you understand yes? I've devoted my life to the Good Book. I believe deeply in the Lord. In his power and his wisdom. In his central goodness. And this entire experience, it has thrown me for a loop."
He looks apologetically to Aveline, "I'm not as strong as I always thought myself to be. My faith has been tested and much as I want to say otherwise, it has been found wanting."
"Did the rock do it to him? I can't be certain. Whatever did it to him, I wasn't able to do anything to stop it. I did everything within my capability both theologically and medically. As a pastor and as a doctor. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't even make a dent. I..."
"I don't know, and I don't what would be worse. If it is or if it isn't. If it is, then it's a poison running through the veins of this country. If it's not, then what did this?"
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