Chapter 1: Prudence

[Enoch]

Shadrach watches the activity at the truck impassively for a few minutes. Then he sighs and heaves himself off the wall, brushes past Sister Anja, and tromps down the steps to the dusty street. He eyes a man sorting through a pile of scrap, turning his head as he passes to watch the man a moment longer, then plants himself in front Amalia.

"You must be Sister Amalia. Looks like I'm your Church-appointed babysitter. Who's your friend over there?" He points at the Handmaiden. "The message from the Prelate only mentioned you. Nothing about a second person." His voice sounds both irritated and resigned.

[Marullus]

Judge Bunt answers Sister Amalia through the truck window, "I do beg ya pardon, miss, I would be grateful for the help clearing the bed. I get a little distracted at times." Accepting the offer to unload the crates, she points to the Mercantile adjacent to the Sheriff's Office. The tall, white-robed nun smiles serenely and picks up the first crate, carrying it as indicated without a word. Shadrach eyes the white-robed woman, something niggling at the back of his mind, but it passes. The old soldier leaning against the clapboard siding of the tavern for a moment. Judge Bunt steps out of truck and begins walking towards the saloon without waiting for Taavi's reply, leaving Amalia and her companion to the crates, still seeming distracted by something.

Farraday drags a tarp full of shaped sheet metal, gears, and parts into town by hand, sweat dripping down his sides with the effort in this heat. He pauses in front of the Mercantile, picking up what looks like a transistor, and looking it over. Báleygr notes the man as he heads to the Saloon, his interest in the pontificating Sister Anja waned. Anja stands, pointing to the ominous mesquite tree, as Shadrach brushes past her and heads over to the truck, planting himself in front of Amalia. "You must be Sister Amalia. Looks like I'm your Church-appointed babysitter. Who's your friend over there?" He points at the Handmaiden. "The wave from the Prelate only mentioned you. Nothing about a second person." His voice sounds both irritated and resigned. Farraday watches as Anja falls silent, looking around for those impacted by her words, her steely righteousness masking her feelings as life bustles around her, unheeding.

Next door to the Mercantile, Emile smiles at the lawman. "It’s a habit picked up from my training. Introduce yourself to the local constabulary if there is one. You could say I’m a diplomat of sorts. If that sort of thing is needed. How are things around here? I see you keep your weapon ready. Any reason?"

"...Uh huh. What kind of training is that?" asks the Sheriff absently, watching as Lira Bunt heads into the Saloon and the fresh crop of religiousity disembarks from the flat truck bed. He then spits another wad into the puddle and replies, patting his gun comfortably, "There's always some kind of trouble. Sometimes it introduces itself, sometimes it don't." He casually watches the truck. "Can't say we need diplomats here. We're a quiet town, have our own ways. Don't have need of other folk coming in to tell us how things get done elsewhere, or how they should be done here."

...

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Meanwhile, inside the tavern, Báleygr attracts little notice as he enters and finds a remote table by himself, setting down his pack of tools and gear. Lira Bunt sauntering in with her high-tech mag rifle causes a pause in conversations as she stands and surveys the room before picking her spot. Zoe returns to Hansel blushing again as she returns the refilled flask to him, full now of decent quality bourbon from the bar, before heading over to Báleygr - "Pardon," she interrupts, glancing briefly up from where her hands are folded on her apron, "What are you having?"

A few locals whisper to each other in a booth at the side. The bartender has given up on the spilled stew and again leans idle on the counter top, watching each person enter and leave. "Damn, again!" comes a cry from the gambling tables, followed by the laughter of his fellows. The mustached man with the black fedora and bolo tie pulls in his metal chits.

[cybersavant]

Zoe heading over to Báleygr - "Pardon," she interrupts, glancing briefly up from where her hands are folded on her apron, "What are you having?"

Báleygr takes a moment to gaze at her instead of the rest of the room's occupants. "What do you recommend?"

[Faanku]

Interrupted from her overwatch of the crate transportation, Amalia turns to look up at Shadrach, meeting his gaze unflinchingly, challengingly, before letting out a sigh. "Ain't no person, 'Babysitter'. Just a tool."

After depositing the final crate, the Handmaiden moves gracefully back to Amalia, where she bows her head in silent greeting to Shadrach from a pace behind and to the side of her summoner. Now that she's up close, the gunslinger can clearly see the elongated ears, the cherubic face, and deep, calming blue eyes; she's the perfect image of what a child might imagine an angel to look like from the descriptions in the Saint Chrysostom Verses.

"If you don't know about her, what else ain't they told you, I wonder? You even know what we're here to do?"

[Enoch]

Shadrach pinches the brim of his hat and pulls it down a degree or two in greeting to the woman in white with an unsettled expression before responding to Amalia. "No, they ain't told me anything about what we're here to do; just that I'm to keep you breathin' while we're doin' it. Church ain't big on overly-long explanations, in my experience."

He sniffs, his lip rising toward his nostril as he does so, and spits in the dust of the road. He addresses Amalia again, though his eyes are focused on the Handmaident and there's a new note of uncertainty in his voice. "We're all tools o' one sort or t' other in the eyes of the Church, I expect."

He addresses the Handmaiden directly for the first time. "What sort o' tool do they think you are, ma'am?"

[jemmus]

The worn Ministry of Justice antigrav truck settles to the ground with various creaks and groans and one high-pitched shriek. Taavi is in no hurry to follow Lira Bunt into the saloon. He again mops his brow. Too damn hot for a jacket, but have to appear official. He puts on his jacket, cinches up his cravat, and hangs a chain with a bronze sword-and-scales badge with his ID and title around his neck. He leaves his 6.54mm rifle in the cab for now, takes his bag from the bed of the truck, throws it in the cab and locks the door. As he walks past Sister Anja he says Good day, ma'am. Those are the kind who can be the root of trouble, he thinks. Sincere in their beliefs, but inflexible, opinionated, and minding other people's business. Everybody minds their own business, no trouble. But that never happens, does it?

In the saloon, he notes the various people around and courteously nods to the room in general. He walks past Lira without a word and sits at an empty table, facing the doorway and the bar. When Zoe comes to take his order, says Good day, ma'am. Iced tea, or anything non-alcoholic you have with ice. And I expect I may need a room. Those fellows playing cards don't appear to be especially savory. Locals, or outsiders? Either way, not ordinary honest or somewhat honest citizens.

[Craigers07]

Talina emerges from behind the cover of the hill after she sees the man enter the building with the tarp. This is getting tiresome watching this guy.

She secures the bandana around her lower face just under her chin and pulls her hat down tight. Walking through the main street of the town she spots the Saloon sign and commits to entering it.
She offers greetings as she passes by those outside and enters the saloon. Trying to draw the least amount of attention possible she keeps her head tucked a little and heads directly to the bar.

"I'll get a water please."

[greyarea]

Emile's eyes follow the lawman's, watching Lira Bunt as well.

Just... training... he replies, pulling his duster back to reveal the SunShooter. He continues, still watching the tavern (but keeping the sheriff in his peripheral vision) The Chun Kuk aren't about telling folks how things ought to be done. Heck, seems like you have your fill of folks telling folks how things ought to be done. Just here to help those who need us...

He watches the activity around the truck and muses on the saloon a moment, eyes narrowed. Then turns back to the lawman. Excuse me, now that I've done my duty to introduce myself, I will see what I can do around to help out. Good day, he finishes with a tap on his brim.

He walks the short distance to the truck and grabs a crate, hefting it onto his shoulder before following the nun and her associate in to set it down where indicated.

[Marullus]

Rolls:

Emile Cha+Sunblade [2d6+1]=12+1=13
...the Sheriff thinks you're legit.

Talina Reaction Roll from Bartender [2d6]=6

Wis+Notice: Hansel [3d6c1]=9 Balygr [2d6]=7 Taavi [2d6+1]=4+1=5 Lira [2d6]=9

Emile casually drops the words 'Chun Kuk' and shows his large-bore revolver. There's just something in the non-chalant confidence of it.
Sheriff Skender chokes on his wad a moment, his chair legs falling forward onto the porch with a thump. His voice shakes a moment until he gets it back under control. "Yeah... yeah, glad you introducin' yourself. Can't say we got any problems here, though. I'll... I'll let you know. Windfall.
I recommend you check in Windfall."

The crates are unloaded efficiently, the white-aproned clerk at the Mercantile grateful to receive them. Emile politely greets the tall, white-robed nun as they do all the lifting; the serene smile and blank eyes he receives in response a bit unnerving, no words in response. The old man, Shadrach, and young nun, Amalia, both wearing the same insignia of the church, have their own tense introduction.

With the crate-work completed, the white-robed nun falls in behind the shorter dark-robed one and stands completely still. Shadrach addresses the Handmaiden directly for the first time. "What sort o' tool do they think you are, ma'am?" The white-robed woman smiles the same serene smile, the same blankness behind her eyes. An awkward moment passes with both Emile and Shadrach standing expectantly before Amalia.

...
Inside the Saloon

"What do you recommend?" the plain-faced Báleygr asks Zoe. "Well, the stew is a favorite. Cook's got his own herbs that really make it work. Fills you up and sticks to the ribs," she says softly, with the confident smile of repetition. "Burgers for those that can afford 'em, good white bread... a charcuterie or a salad..." The last items seem more to class the place up than an expecation that anyone orders it. "Bourbon and beer is normal for the regulars, but they can do wine, coffee... all the normal things."

Taavi enters, passing where Lira stands taking the place in, taking a decisive seat. He sits at his own round table, near enough where Hansel and Báleygr each sit at their own tables, each with a good view of the door, the bar, and the room. "Good day, ma'am. Iced tea, or anything non-alcoholic you have with ice. And I expect I may need a room." he asks Zoe, who obliges, coming back with a tall glass of tea, a plastic spring of mint in the top, a thin green line of extract oozing from the bottom into the drink. "Rooms available," she says, demuring at his fancy dress coat and fine manners, wringing her hands in front of her. "You just settle that with Mirko when you're ready," she nods to the bartender.

Talina emerges from behind a building and commits to crossing the square and entering the saloon. Her shoulder-length dark hair is pulled back, thick dust of the Badlands coating the obscuring bandana and long black coat she wears, fresh sunburn on her forehead. She passes discretely behind Lira and heads directly to the bar. "I told ya," the bartender tells her quietly, sliding a water in front of her, "You gotta order and pay for something. I can't keep lettin' you slide." Hansel has a good guess who she is, even without checking his compad.

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A man appears at the rear stairway; he stubs out a cigarette with his heavy black boot. Hansel sits with his flask, still watching the card players. Lira stands near the door, taking in the gis of the room. Both are keen enough to notice the subtle change in the cardplayers -- they lean in a bit more, the cards are dealt a little slower, they're more attentive to the room and the bar.

[Faanku]

"One that walks with the blessing of the Lord Almighty, I should reckon. See, that there angel comes from the heavens themselves at my beck and call, and there are more b'sides."

She moves a little closer to Shadrach, her voice taking a dramatic tone. "And I got the sight; I can tell a tool of the devil just as easy as lookatcha. I'm guessin' you got yourself some history with demons and the like if they've put you alongside me on this mission. Am I not too far from the truth there, Babysitter?"

[greyarea]

Emile thanks the sheriff at the suggestion of Windfall.

Inside the Mercantile, his eyes narrow at Amalia's words. They shift between the nun and Shadrach, trying to ascertain the situation.
Notice [2d6]=5

Regardless, he will say, amicably. Glad to know we're on the same side... and that you've got a tongue in you, Sister. He doffs his hat. I don't know about demons and whatnot but do know a little something about justice. So... what's this mission? Anything you can share with me?

[Enoch]

Shadrach blinks, long and slow, his eyes remaining wide for a long moment at the end. "You mean to say- she" --he looks over at the Handmaiden, his expression betraying astonishment-- "You mean to say she's an angel?"

He reaches up with his left hand and lifts his low-brimmed hat, running the fingers of his right through his dark hair before resettling his hat on his brow. He blows his cheeks out and says, "Well. Well. Never did expect to meet me an angel. Beggin' your pardon, but this seems like an awful hard land to be meeting an angel. Expected more trumpets and the like, frankly. Well. She here as a herald, Sister? Figure we must be deep into the Second Coming now. And you're callin' 'em." He shakes his head.

He regards Amalia with intensity for a long moment, but doesn't answer her question about his experience with demons. Instead, he glances over Emile. "And you are...?"

[greyarea]

My Pardon, Emile says, tipping his hat. My name’s Emile Khadaji. I'm just here looking for good folks and helping them if they need it. Don't mind me. What's your game... Shadrach, is it?

[Enoch]

Shadrach nods in affirmation. "I'm serving as the Right Hand to the good Sister here." He tips his head in the direction of Amalia. "It's dangerous out in the wastes.

"So you're, what? Some kind of wandering do-gooder?"

[cybersavant]

"What do you recommend?" the plain-faced Báleygr asks Zoe. "Well, the stew is a favorite. Cook's got his own herbs that really make it work. Fills you up and sticks to the ribs," she says softly, with the confident smile of repetition. "Burgers for those that can afford 'em, good white bread... a charcuterie or a salad..." The last items seem more to class the place up than an expecation that anyone orders it. "Bourbon and beer is normal for the regulars, but they can do wine, coffee... all the normal things."

Báleygr Gangleri "Well, stew sounds just fine, with a beer. Say, do transports come through here regular? I'm looking to book passage."

[Faanku]

"'In blackest night does the zealous light burn brightest', Mr Babysitter." Sister Amalia quotes the Saint Chrysostom Verses, but it would take an intense familiarity with the holy book to tell which part exactly; they all share a common theme of vigilant struggle against evil and an unflinching, often violent pursuit of divine justice. "It's exactly because these are hard lands that the Lord has afforded me a fragment of his own host, to better do His bidding."

The sister frowns at Emile's interruption, but she's used to her speaking attracting outside attention.

[greyarea]

Emile smiles and his eye twinkles, You could call me that.

[Marullus]

You guys are fantastic.
* Mister-Kent: I need to establish if Faraday went to the Mercantile to liquidate his scrap (and is in the scene with Emile, Amalia, and Shadrach) or if he went into the Saloon (when Taavi and Talina entered).
* Letting you roll with interpersonal interactions until Hansel and Lira get a chance to post before I make my next move for both clusters.


As you all size each other up, certain things about your presentation are obvious. Báleygr, Faraday, and Talina all have the distinct look of scavvers - bulky tools and equipment in the packs they brought with them. Hansel, Shadrach, and Emile all have scant gear and readied weapons - distinctly recognizable as gunslingers and mercenaries by their lack of preparedness for other occupations. Amalia wears overt religious garments, as does her companion, proclaiming their role. Lira and Taavi are intentionally well-dressed with an air of officiality to their presentation, along with the blatant insignia of the regional government on their truck. All four are scantly equipped, expecting to find hospitality for their roles.

Báleygr Gangleri "Well, stew sounds just fine, with a beer. Say, do transports come through here regular? I'm looking to book passage."

Báleygr Connect [2d6-1]=8-1=7

Zoe nods, noting his order. "Most trucks that hub out of here are doing scav work in the wastes, but if you're looking to get somewhere else, someone heads out to the derricks every day or two and to Windfall at least once a week..." she trails off as she sees in his expression that he didn't mean trucks. "Oh, you mean, like, space transports?", she glances uncomfortably at the man who entered by the stairs. "Don't see anything regular or scheduled, of course. I imagine... I imagine they'd be private arrangements out in the wastes." She nods once, then excuses herself to deliver the order to the kitchen before he can press her.

[jemmus]

Time warp backwards
At the truck, Taavi thanks Amalia, Emile and the Handmaiden for taking the crates to the Mercantile.

Notice: [2d6-1]=7-1=6 I think that's a success?

Revised to conform to die roll
Taavi observes a dusty and sunburnt woman with face concealed by a bandana enter the saloon and quickly go to the bar. The bartender knows her. But is she concealing her identity? Or maybe just wearing it to filter out the dust?

He watches the man in the doorway stub his cigarette out on his boot. He doesn't look he particularly gentle. Taavi takes a quaff of his iced tea while unbuttoning his jacket for quicker access to the semi-automatic in the holster at his waist. I should have done that earlier.

[Enoch]

Shadrach grunts, shaking his head before replying to Amalia. "We are, no doubt, neck-deep in the End Times if He is letting mortals command the Host, Sister. Sure she'll be of use, but I ain't entirely comfortable with the idea of an angel as a plaything."

He looks sidelong at the gunslinger. "As for you, Mister Do-Gooder: be careful. Principles are all well and good, but sticking to 'em too hard is a good way to wind up dead. Ain't no towers out there, and if there were, they damn sure wouldn't be holding fair maidens." He gestures down the road, with the badlands rising up beyond.

"Dragons, though. Those and worse are out there."