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The common room was busier than normal at the Sludge Spill Inn tonight, especially considering the ash storm outside had been raging for the better part of three days. Rumors had been running rampant around Hive’s End about an impending PDF sweep. Old Vira had said she heard mention at the Nomad bazaar of one of old Helmawr’s shuttles being shot down out in the wastes and the old Lord was out to inflict some retribution on the ‘illegal’s’ who choose not to seek his protection within the Hives.
Shanty towns like Hive’s End are easy targets for Helmawr’s goons. It did not matter that all they wanted to do was etch out a living from the industrial wastes and that it was unlikely that such a town could produce much more than a heavy stubber or two, let alone something with as long a reach as a las cannon or missile launcher. Such toys were more likely found among the Imperial Fists Space Marines or one of the Nomad bands that make their living moving between the hives and out in the wastes.
“Old Vira has the locals stirred up pretty good,” the inn keeper said to himself. “I’ll have to remind myself to give her a round on the house later.” The man stood behind the bar with one of his heavily booted feet on a box under the bar, looking out over the bar room he liked what he saw. No less than a dozen customers sat around the room.
Most of the population around town was leery of the young bar keep, but he did not let that bother him. Unlike most of the denizens of Necromunda’s Ash Wastes he was not native to this inhospitable place.
Before the Enforcers had come calling he and his mates had created quite a little fiefdom in the Underhive of Hive Primus, and although he had not been the leader of the ‘Iron Skulls’, he had been a trusted and proven lieutenant. There had been many a time he had out drawn his opponents to get his shots off, blazing away with his twin semi-automatics. That was before the heavy hand of Lord Helmawr and his police force, the Enforcers, had declared him and his gang outlaws. He was the last of the Skulls now, and that was only because he had braved the wastes. As formidable as the reach of the Enforcers is, even they thought twice before venturing outside the protective walls of the hive. Once he had made it to Hive’s End he found that his skills with his pistols could be useful, and after the last raid by some Nomads had killed the previous owner of the Inn, Ramic was quicker still to move in and stake his claim. No one had challenged him. Not until today that is.
“We need to get Cootus and round up those good for nothing punks from ’round town an organize!”
“You’re crazy!” a second man shouted over the first. “You can’t fight the PDF. Y’all be kilt!”
“Who said anything about getting killed!?” Ramic shouted over the first two.
The overlapping murmur of conversations took a noticeable dip as several people turned to look at the Inn Keeper. Ramic deftly swung his 1.8 meter, 72 kilogram frame up and over the bar and landed with both feet firmly planted on the plasteel sheet floor.
Ramic did not like where this was heading. He had already gone toe to toe with Helmawr’s forces and he felt fortunate to still be alive to tell about it, but he was not about to allow these sickly shanty scum to incite baseless paranoia in his place, especially since it would most likely lead to damaged property and goods – his goods.
“Korval, best to keep such talk to yourself.” Ramic said as he turned his head from man to man in the room. The black bandanna on his head accented the crew cut hair and square jaw of the former Orlock ganger. To make sure he made his point Ramic pulled his respirator down so it hung around his neck, thus no longer distorting his words.
“If you want to drive everyone into a panic you can just mosey on down to the Vira’s Acid Bath House.”
“What t’chu ginna do ‘bout it Rammey?”
The room went quiet. Ramic shifted his weight, placing both feet shoulder width apart, then moving his hands slowly to his hips as he spread his vest apart to reveal his the pair stubbers within a set of quick draw holstered and worn high on his hips to allow quicker access.
“I will do what I have to Korval. Best to keep your hands right there on the table where I can see ‘em too.”
Korval seemed to weigh the inn keeper’s words carefully and stood as if to leave. As he turned to his right he slowly drew his hand up to his own holster. When his hand made contact with the pistol grip he snapped it out and spun to draw down on Ramic, but before Korval could complete his maneuver Ramic had cleared both of his pistols from the holsters and had snapped off three shots from each. All six shots impacted their target and Korval fell backwards, upended the table he had been sitting at on the way to the floor.
Ramic kept both pistols drawn at waist level as his eyes scanned the room for anyone else who might feel lucky. All eyes were on him when a sudden gush of wind brought in a fresh cloud of ash and debris through the front door from the wastes beyond. A few of the people within the Inn were caught by surprise and began coughing profusely. The end result was that everyone was now looking at the three new strangers who had just walked in. It was not the appearance of potential customers that confused the people already there, it was the fact that these wayfarers had ventured out in the midst of a pretty good ash storm.
The industrial wastelands of Necromunda were not to be traveled lightly in what might locally could be considered ‘good’ weather, but to move about in the middle of one the sudden storms that often spring up – usually lasting for several days – was to invite death to your door. It did not matter if you were going several kilometers, or across town. The chemical clouds and resins that make up the Ash Wastes were known to strip a man down to the bone if he were not properly protected, let alone being exposed for a prolonged journey. It was nearly impossible to predict what kinds of hazards were stirred up when Necromunda got her dander up, best to stay indoors, keep your head down and your respirator handy. But the three strangers that now showed up on Ramic’s doorstep had obviously come from some where outside the walls of the little Shanty town of Hive’s End, because he knew everyone in the small shanty town, and he had not seen these people before.
The man in front wore a heavy ankle length duster that flowed smoothly despite being made of a heavy fabric. His head was completely covered by a deep hood that was attached to the duster. His eyes were covered by a visor with a narrow single lens that went from temple to temple. His nose, mouth, and neck were covered by a single yellow scarf. Wrapped around his torso, underneath the jacket, was a royal blue tunic that draped to the length of the coat. Across his chest, underneath his left arm was a leather shoulder holster that held an as yet unidentified weapon, which matched another similar holster on his left hip. The grip of the weapon on his hip was pointed to the rear and was underneath the duster. Across the waist was a wide leather belt with an emerald colored gem buckle. On his right hip, slung slight low, hung a tubular pouch that contained something within. The boots he wore were also made of leather and came to just above his knees. Across his back was an ornate sword with a long grip. Over top of this he carried a small haversack that was full, and on the left side was strapped a long rifle wrapped in cloth similar to that of the duster. Those who have spent any amount of time outside the massive hives of Necromunda would recognize him as a Nomad Scout.
The second one through the door was adorned in a pair of heavy combat trousers that had apparently been salvaged as there were several holes revealing another layer of heavy fabric underneath in order to protect the wearer from the hostile elements. Upon the feet was a pair of mismatched combat boots. The head was wrapped in a similar fabric to what was underneath the pants, surrounding a pair of goggles and a dual filter respirator that covered the face. Atop the head was a Planetary Defense Cap. The torso was adorned in a waste length jacket with a heavy zipper up the front. It had a set of pockets on the arms as well as on the chest, which revealed that the wearer to be that of a woman. Upon her back was a pack similar to that of the nomad, and a shotgun with an improvised harness was slung from her right shoulder. The bandoleer of ammunition across her other shoulder and chest, along with the hodgepodge of clothing showed her to be a resident of some, as of yet unfamiliar, Shanty Town.
The last one to enter Ramic’s humble little Inn was not all that impressive to look at. He stood around one and three quarter meters tall, and he was not particularly big to look at either. The boots looked familiar but he could not place them. The heavy pants were similar to that of the woman’s, but above the waist he wore a threadbare shirt that was barely covering some kind of bodysuit. He was unarmed except for the heavy staff in his right hand. It was made of some kind of organic material that was interlaced with grains of metal – like the two materials had somehow grown and matured together. What was disconcerting was that he did not appear to be wearing any sort of respirator or eye protection, but this was not what gave Ramic pause. It was the sound of something he had not heard since he felt compelled to leave the hive. It was the sound that many a person who had gone against the rule of Lord Helmawr came to dread. From among the strangers wove a mechanical construct known as a Cyber Mastiff. He could not believe that he was seeing such a thing out in the wastes, and wondered why it was on his doorstep now, that was when he remembered where he had seen this man’s boots before – the Enforcers.
Slowly eyes moved between the three strangers and Ramic. No one was quite sure what to expect.
“Greetings friends. What may I get you?” Ramic offered without putting his pistols away just yet.
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Notes:
The Inn keeper is (Ramic) and is the 3rd supporting character
Nomad is known as Luinon
The woman is known as Yeve
The last man is our ‘Hero’ Jakob
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I am also almost done with another prelude piece that continues the story of Ian and his gang the Steel Spiders...
1 comment:
Keep the stories flowing my friend!
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