The Recruit

Harten watched his new boss pace back and forth before him and the rest of the “recruits”. He had been itching to get out of that rats nest of a shanty since his thirteenth birthday, and when the guilders came recruiting he jumped at the chance.

“Anyone here that does not own their own weapons take one step forward!”

The scrappy kid to his left stepped up and was immediately escorted out the back door, and Harten’s was very grateful that his respirator hid the smirk now plastered all over his face. Reaching down with his left hand he patted the hefty stub gun in its holster. Good thing that scavvy didn’t need it anymore – served him right for wandering into town all alone like that.

“Right… anyone else? Good!” The man stopped his pacing and turned to face the rest of the men. “You all will be riding with the outgoing caravan tonight. We didn’t have time to be picky so y’all will just have to do.” He paused to let that sink in. “We leave in fifteen minutes. Report to the caravan and get your assignments.”

Harten walked from the warehouse. The wind was howling and whipping up the wastes around him. He would finally shake off this shanty town and get out and see what Necromunda was really about. ‘Fortune favors those who seek her,’ he thought to himself. And that is exactly what he intended to do.