You arrive at Compton in fine style. Merlot drives his pickup truck with Multi-Roach riding shotgun, while the two giants Flora and Bedlam Jones hunker down in the back. Eating their dust is Ordus F. Rattus, sitting atop his fireproof giant possum, which is dragging a wagon carrying an ancient but working generator, as well as the constituent swarm of rats collectively known as S'kaar.

At first Compton looks like any other badlands town with a wall of rusting steel sheets and pig iron rivets, dotted with rickety watchtowers with home made flamethrowers and giant crossbows. As you close race up the gentle slope leading to the town gates, you are struck by the colourful bunting and welcoming graffiti, rather than the usual cages full of rotting bandits left out as a warning.

A small delegation emerges from the gates, a squad of serious looking militia led by a heartbreakingly beautiful Engineered Human who wastes no time in welcoming you.

"Martha Adams mayor of Compton at your service wanders. Here at Compton you'll find we treat honest explorers as treasured resources rather than unfortunates to be robbed and fed into the food vats. The artifacts you bring back from the Sprawl will enrich our local economy, and on that sad day you fail to return your possession you have entrusted to our deposit scheme will pass into our hands. Don't forget to ask at the Last Chance Hotel about our very reasonable terms. You won't want to be taking that handsome vehicle into the Sprawl my friends, and you could get a couple of gallons of water credit. And on the off chance you are here to make trouble, rest assured we still have the food vats warmed and ready"

The large bug tapped the fuel gauge and looked at Merlot. It's mandibles click. "There is a fuel question we have. We will need more. Much more..." It pointed out the the furry driver of the car.

Flora quickly hoped out of the back of the pick up and hit the ground with a thud. Normally she wasn't too quick to act, but the man had simply offered to put them in food vats should anything go wrong. She was tall, leaning towards her giant heritage, and thick. Her plant features glared out to any who questioned her origins. She was armored, a thick plate of metal surrounding her torso. On the front was a scoop that betrayed the armor as a former car hood. On her back was a large spear, fashioned from what looked like a sharpened sign post. That was crossed by a large mace, too big for one hand. It was made of rebar, bent and banded into shape with a hilt of duct tape or something similar.

In her hand was her pride and joy. It was obviously Omega Tech. It appeared to be some sort of large maul or hammer, festooned with reinforced wires and metal. Whatever it was, it looked like it would hurt if she hit something with it.

She stood there for a moment, not talking, but making it known she was not there for show.

Bedlam raises his head off his chest, waking himself from the doze he had fallen into as the pickup rumbled across the badlands. He levers himself over the side and smiles a bit to himself as the pickup suddenly sits much higher on its shocks. The weight of the two giants in the back was apparently quite substantial.
Quite right, given the size of... Bedlam thinks, unconsciously flexing the muscles stacked upon muscles across his barrel chest.

Hearing the mayors 'greeting', he rises to his full height. A massive and imposing man, Bedlam was a veritable wall of muscle and steel. His armor was crafted from the curved and rounded parts of what must have been a car. An ornate lampost was strapped to his back, along with a rounded spiked object that was inexplicably moving.

"I certainly don't think trouble is our goal here, Madame Mayor." He said, turning the full force of his personality on the well put together Engineered Human.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:45, Tue 16 Nov 2010.

Frowning at his fuel meter, Merlot seems to flicker for a second as if he's still sitting in the drivers seat whilst he's getting out of the truck at the same time.
Reality seems to finally agree that he'd exited the truck however.

Dusting off his leather duster, the feline inadvertently reveals a bizarre gauntlet on his right hand before he addresses the townsfolk assembled.

"Now I'm suuuure we can come to a relationship that is most beneficial for all of us."

"After all" He continues with a gesture of his left hand "Without somewhere nearby to sell any finds too, our profession fast becomes that of a long distance hauler."

Nodding to himself he finishes "A profession I would rather avoid."

Mayor Adams seems captivated by Bedlam's Jones mesmerising presence. "You know, I'm sure the Council can find work for such a powerfully built specimen such as yourself" she simpers, batting her perfect eyelids. "In fact, if you all want to show us what you've got, consider fighting in the Arena. Will get you enough Barters for free board, fuel and water too. Old Bluetooth runs nightly bouts, just head for the Monster Mash and tell him I sent you"

Bedlam nods his thanks as the group piles out of the truck. His eyes momentarily flash red and go a bit distant as he establishes a mental link to all the group members.

"I like the idea of this Monster Mash... sounds like a party to me!" Even his mental voice has a tinge of bloodlust to it.



OOC: for the sake of consistency, I'll use purple as the color to signify Bedlam's telepathy to the group.

In reply to The Shadow (msg #6):

The bug itches its exo-skeleton. "More fuel sounds good...as does food. Plus the extra food of those that are killed..."

Those that have traveled with Multi-Roach knows that it can and will eat almost anything. In fact, one of its more disgusting, and useful habits is to have a duplicate act as a 'food-taster' to see if something is safe to eat. Or test for dangerous ground. Or even worse-sometimes it takes a bite out of its own duplicate...

Mayor Adams graciously offers to show you to the Last Chance Hotel, and the party is escorted through the gates of Compton by her security detail. Compton is a vibrant community with citizens of all types, colours and sizes thronging the busy streets and alleys. The Mayor points out the Bartermart, a huge open air bazaar where supplies, equipment and artifacts ancient and newly made can be traded for Barters.

The Last Chance Hotel is a large, ancient complex of building that caters for guests of all types, providing such niceties as asbestos sheets, nutrient baths and even electricity on tap. However, the prices are steep, you reckon you will have to barter away much of your equipment for more than a few nights stay. However, once the management hear that you will be fighting in the Monster Mash they happily extend a line of credit.

"The bouts start an hour after sundown. Ask for the Masherama" says Mayour Adams, taking her leave. "Looking forward to seeing you in action big boy" she finishes with a wink at Bedlam Jones.

You have a couple of hours to relax in your rooms, explore, trawl for rumours or go shopping in the Bartermart.

Imagine, if you can, a man-sized figure composed entirely of flaming rats.  Now, once you get your brain around that, imagine what one would look like astride a very large, particularly stupid (and thankfully fireproof) mutant opossum.

Ordo F. Rattus adds to the effect by the curious selection of something like a shieldwall for his armor, which consists of some of the many rats holding little shields.  Others lend their strength to lofting the sharpened rebar spear he carries.

Traveling with Ordo is an experience, since he invariably speaks in chorus...and having a thousand rats answer all at the same time, in the same high squeaky pitch, unnerves some people.  On the other hand, you never need to ask for a light, and the little guys are usually willing to sit still if you want to roast a marshmallow or something.

Here in civilization, the Rodent Collective leads Stupid (the, uhm, Opossum Of Unusual Size) to the hotel in hopes of getting a little rest.  He has no talent for digging for rumors, and while he'll be more than happy to watch Bedlam enjoy himself at the Mash, for now a little down-time is more than welcome.

Thus the chorus of rats bids a temporary parting from his companions, promises to save Multi-Roach a few crumbs for later, and goes to secure the luxury of a temporary nest.

Flora shook her head at the mayor and replaced the hammer back into the truck. When she returned, she placed a hand on Bedlam's shoulder. Her voice was soft and smooth, though deeper than most women that the group had encountered before. "You should really be careful with your charms, Little Brother. They can come back to haunt you one of these days." She was of course not any relation to the big man, considering she was mostly green and composed of plant matter and vines. They had developed a sibling relationship and she was acting as any big sister would, caring after a younger sibling who was always trouble, at least in her eyes.

She moved in front of him, giving a chuckle as her hand lingered on his shoulder, beckoning for him to follow. "Come, Little Brother. Let's get something hot to eat. It's got to e a site more tasty than that crap we have had the past few days." With that, she makes her way towards the Bartermart, seeing if Bedlam is following.

Merlot, in his typical fashion, seems to hang around the corners and pools of shadow whilst the others decide what they wish to do.
Once everyone's moved along, he begins his own investigations of the city, hopefully gleaning any useful tidbits or information from conversations overheard in the shadows.

He proceeds to check the city's trash. What people throw away stun him. It was all so useful! Sometimes, they even through away food! Barley spoiled ether! It was very easy to find out what was good to eat, or safe to get. He just made a duplicate to 'test' it out for him.

Of course-they complained...

Bedlam can't help but grin at Flora's words of caution. "You may be right, but it sure is fun!" His stomach rumbled mightily, lending more importance to her other suggestion. Food was an idea he could certainly get behind. He stomps off behind the green woman. The two giants certainly made quite a sight trudging towards the Bartermart...

While Ordus and S'kaar doze in the hotel, the rest of the group find a few hours for exploring. Bedlam and Flora sample the hazards and delights of Compton street food, Multi-Roach noses around for a spoil heap but instead finds a very efficient recycling chain, starting at the food vats, fed on a constant diet of garbage, and ending in the burger than Beldam is happily munching. Meanwhile Merlot skulks around the shadows, but doesn't hear anything of note, save for some discussion of the "fresh meat" appearing at the Monster Mash this evening.

At the appointed time you join the throng moving towards the Masherama, a large canvas and sheet metal dome alive with neon signs and blaring thrash metal music. Bluetooth meets you at the entrance. You are somewhat taken aback to find Bluetooth is an ancient mobile phone that has achieved sentience, lying on a silk cushion borne by large mutated stick insect, standing unsteadily on its back legs.

It plays a simple tune. Even in these unenlightened times some classics from the bygone age still exist, and you all recognise the ballad "Nokia Welcome".

"Welcome to the Masherama!" says Bluetooth in a tinny, crackling voice. "You're the third bout this evening, on in around an hour. The Green Room is just down the stairs, third on the left. Now, I need to know your stage name. You know, Mad Max and the Thunderdromes, The Postmen, Gygax Convention... something snappy with a bit of edge!"

Although he is patently unable to do so, Bluetooth looks at you expectantly.

Flora looked around at the others. It seemed that even her "little brother" was going to be left without words. She figured she might as well speak up. "Personally, I am all for the name 'Syndicate of Strange'. Got a nice ring to it, don't it," she said as she gently poked Bedlam in the rib with her elbow."