There is a mutant who will gladly take you through the radioactive desert wasteland. He is a guide and will help you avoid the worst patches of radiation and the feral, cannibal mutants. What's he like?
 Blackened, like from a fire.
 White and albino. Easily sunburnt.
 Leathery gray or brown skin. Animal smell.
 Insectoid chitin. Dull gray plates.
 Green, glows in the dark.
 Melty. Looks like its saggy and wrinkled, a bit like its melting. Still solid though.
 Taut, papery skin. Visible blood and lymph travels through it, partially transparent.
 Purplish-gray color, with armored skin coverings. Roll on the subtable below.
(Subtable) Purple-Skin Coverings Armor- 1d4
 Squares patches of eczema, made into tough leathery plates.
 Lumps of fat and waste bubbled to the surface. Retards fire.
 Studs, material as horn.
 Ridges of bone, growing along the nervous system tract.
What's his “Lucky” Arm Like?- 1d6
 Squashed. The limb is shorter then normal. The bones, connective tissue, muscles and so forth are all the same, just much more densely packaged, and as such basically impossible to cut off.
 Elongated. The arm is much longer then normal. Has an extra joint. It is weaker and less tough then you'd expect, with thin skin and brittle bones, but is very fast and gives good reach.
 Noodly. Emaciated and very thin, but has some prehensile properties. You can smack it with a hammer and the bones just bend and jumble around; doesn't hurt.
 Muscular. It's roughly human shape, but is incredibly vascular and tinted red with its intense blood flow. Insanely strong, sometimes acts out violently as though with a mind of its own.
 Fat. The limb is fat and sags, heavy and bloated. Acts as a fat store for trips across the radioactive desert. If you cut into it, it bleeds greasy water.
 Tubular. It inflates only when in use, requiring a heavy breath and has an innate direct line of air from the lungs, otherwise hangs down like an empty glove. Can be hidden with ease.
What are the Fingers on his “Lucky” Arm like?- 1d6
 Cat's claws.
 Stubby, visible pores, excellent grip for climbing.
 Fused into a mitten shape.
 Standard. Little tattoo of an hourglass on his middle knuckle.
 Desiccated and shriveled. Looks like bone with tight skin covering; still functions.
 Aligned into points. Skin on the tip is regularly cut off to be manicured, else grows long fingernail like protrusions too rapdily; dangle down to touch the floor in two months without a trim.
What's this Mutant's Face like?- 1d6
 Chiseled, ragged, teeth grinded down from lifetime of pain.
 Innocent, with long hair streaked down. Almost looks like they're hiding their face.
 Nose is missing, as though a leper.
 Bubbled over from radiation.
 Smooshed in, has trouble breathing and speaking at the same time. From physical trauma.
 Mouth is pronounced outwards, has inhuman grinding teeth and a weak jaw.
How does he walk? - 1d6
 Just fine on his own, thanks.
 With a hobble, he has a bad leg.
 With a long warbled walking stick. He's a bit older.
 With a short iron pipe. Doubles as weapon.
 Through short, but still inhumanly capable leaps and bounds. Like a weird frog.
 Demands to be carried or pulled in a cart. So emaciated he barely weighs anything.
How does he Protect himself? - 1d8
 He doesn't. That's why he needs to “serve” people by “guiding” them!
 He doesn't. He runs away and leads his foes into his traps and random monster dens.
 An old rifle. He counts the bullets each night before and after sleep.
 With a wicked old rusted knife.
 Fights with fists and kicks. Mutations have made him inhumanly strong.
 With a metal club. Has painted it up and down, “practices” and thinks he's a swordfighter.
 Using a hidden natural weapon, granted by mutation. Poison stinger, ejecting his stomach, etc.
 Has a pair of well trained dogs. They mean well, despite having eyes that look like fried eggs.
What's his Area of Expertise? - 1d10
 Knows a secret bunker that possesses old world ammo + giant killer robot.
 Knows how to filter the water from the ancient sewer into something drinkable.
 Knows a secret passage to avoid the mutated flesh eating megaphants.
 Knows the secret to “master the blazing bolt”. He just straps a car battery to his back.
 Draws maps. Maps are child like, with landmarks and little monster stick figures.
 Writes books about the land. One fact is dangerously false; acts as copy protection.
 Mechanically gifted. Could actually get a car running with proper materials.
 Tells tall tales about the old world. He was there.
 Everyone owes him a favor.
 Is absolutely insane. His mad cackle even gives raiders pause.
What's the One Place he Refuses to take you? - 1d6
 An active bomb in a carter. He doesn't want it to blow up.
 A nuclear waste dumping ground. Can't afford to absorb any more radiation.
 The Metal-Heads' territory. The worst raider gang; weld metal to their skin to prove toughness.
 The Albino Pit-Bird's lair. He has nightmares of it eating him alive.
 His wife's grave.
 A friendly town. Horrible, painful disease has broken out there. It must be contained.
What's his Attitude towards Death? - 1d8
 As an old friend.
 As a bitter conclusion.
 Something people should remember.
 Something people should cover with a tarp and leave to rot.
 Food for the vultures.
 There are worse fates.
 I have too much left I want to do.
 Sweet release.
That was fun, it was like meeting someone [in a mutant wasteland] for the first time! Here's my guide:ReplyDelete
His skin is leathery gray. Animal smell. His arm is fat and sags, heavy and bloated. Acts as a fat store for trips across the radioactive desert. If you cut into it, it bleeds greasy water. Its fingers are standard, though one hand has a little tattoo of an hourglass on his middle knuckle. His nose is missing, as though a leper.
He walks with a long warbled walking stick. He's a bit older, and protects himself with a pair of well trained dogs. They mean well, despite having eyes that look like fried eggs. He writes books about the land. One fact is dangerously false; it acts as copy protection.
What's the One Place he Refuses to take you? Dagenham. Only joking, I got: A friendly town. Horrible, painful disease has broken out there. It must be contained. So, 33% correct...
His attitude towards death is that it provides food for the vultures.