HELL ON THE HOMESTEAD
A PunkApocalyptic: The RPG Mission for Expert Mercs
You don't need me to tell you that everything falls apart. In
cracked old books and half-corrupted vid pods, old white-hairs
called it “entropy” and then babbled on about laws of thermal-
something-or-other.
We just call it “everything’s going to shit.”
This is one of those going-to-shit stories. Or, instead, it's the
setup and payoff for you to create your flavor of going-to-shit-
story.
It starts with Nowhere. This aptly named settlement is
nestled away amid some craggy bit of land, just enough off
the beaten path to evade notice—at least at first. Nowhere
makes a perfect base of operations or occasional sanctuary
for a group of mercs. Sure, it has its shit-heels and challenges,
but for the most part, the folk are relatively good-natured,
usually willing to barter and cooperate with others in wary
good faith. Even better, it hides a mini greenstrip garden.
Well-watered, full of turnips, beets, and their associated
greens, and a steady supply of root vegetables it’s what
passes for paradise these days.
In what follows, the settlement of Nowhere is presented as
a backward paradise. General information is given for the trade
and resources the town can provide. There are writeups for the
various people living in the village, local color, background, and
even a bit about rivalries and possible intrigues and adventures
that might take place in Nowhere. The more your mercs use
Nowhere—engaging in its peculiar form of succor and sanity—
the better. Hell, let them sprout some roots, get involved with
the community, and maybe even knock up, get knocked-up by,
and marry some of the Bescraft brood.
But all paradises risk being burned. In the second part of
“Hell on the Homesteads,” things seriously go to shit. At some
point, when the mercs come home again, they find Nowhere
a crippled and captive settlement, under the heel of nihilistic
nomads calling themselves the Gnasher-Mashers, living by
plunder, ravage, and murder. What the mercs choose to do
about Nowhere's little apocalypse is their own business. A sane
person might turn around, cherish the memories, mourn the
dead, and move on.
But most mercs aren't sane. Some will probably want to save
the town and revenge themselves on the marauders, or some
similar horseshit. The second part gives you all the information
you need to allow those mercs to make a bad situation even
worse or maybe even save the day.
Whatever the future may bring, grab a jar of beet hooch, and
let's dig into the rise and fall of Nowhere.
PART 1:
THE GOOD DAYS
Shunted in some bit of highlands, beyond an area of jagged
ruins and high radiation—likely a nuked site—the people of
Nowhere live in relative peace. It's likely pure accident that led
the founding families to stumble upon the place, but the three
surviving founders can't agree on what exactly brought them
here all those decades ago.
Nowhere rests in a relatively lush canyon valley, irrigated
with fresh water fed by remote mountain streams, and
obscured by rock formations and further hidden by the
Nowherians’ cultivation of the land. It's a near-perfect home
in deadly times.
   Nearly 70 folks live in Nowhere. Almost all are the descendants
of the original five founding families who stumbled upon the
place. However, the settlement has absorbed trustworthy
wanderers though the decades with many benefits to the gene
pool. Like any community, Nowhere has its particular laws and
customs, most of which are supposedly codified in the Original
Charter, a written agreement between the founding families, and
overseen by the Council of Founders. Still, day-to-day activity is
rather humdrum.
Most folk farm the staple products of the settlement:
turnips, various types of beets, and a scattering of tubers,
and mushrooms both meaty and psychoactive. Much of the
harvest is preserved and canned for consumption during the
cold months and drought. Mainly, the sugar beet harvest is
earmarked for the brewing of pungent beer, much of which
is distilled into a potent hooch. That liquor serves as a social
lubricant for the people of Nowhere.
CREDITS
Words and Cartography: Stephen Radney-MacFarland
Development and Art Direction: Robert J. Schwalb
Word Polishing: Tom Cadorette
Last Defense Against Bullshit: Jay Spight
Making It Look Awesome: Kara Hamilton
Hell on the Homestead is © 2020 Schwalb Entertainment,
LLC. All Rights Reserved. PunkApocalyptic is © 2014 Bad
Roll Games. PunkApocalyptic and its associated logos are
trademarks of Bad Roll Games. Schwalb Entertainment
and its associated logos are trademarks of Schwalb
Entertainment, LLC.
PO Box #12548, Murfreesboro, TN 37129
info@schwalbentertainment.com
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www.schwalbentertainment.com

NOWHERE MAP KEY
1. Entrance A small path leads from the rocks outside
through the shallow waterway giving access to Nowhere.
2. Hunters Lodge This large wood and skin tent serves as
lodging for those Hunters in Nowhere.
3. Council Moot This circular building serves as meeting
hall and study for the Council of Founders.
4. Laurith Homestead This small plain house and
outhouse serves as the residence for the Laurith family.
5. Bescraft Homestead This large dwelling is
accompanied by a glassblowing workshop, sand
storehouse, and outhouse.
6. Nimrod Homestead Close to the middens, this
rundown house and outhouse is home of the Nimrods.
7. Tangles Strange twisted trees and brambles cover
these areas. They’re carefully cultivated as the chief
source of wood for Nowhere.
8. Middens These pits of shit and refuse are tended by
the Nimrod clan.
9. Klath Homestead These brewers have a large well-
tended house and a stone brewery.
10. Storehouses These tall, tower-like storehouse are
filled with beer, hooch, and preserved root vegetables of
all sorts.
11. Galit Homestead This clan’s compound consists of a
small shack and a foundry and workshop out back.
12. Mill This mill is used to churn beats and other
vegetables into pulp.
13. Turup Homestead This woodworking clan tends
to work outdoors when they are not cultivating the
brambles. Their compound consists of a house made of
intricately carved wood and an plain outhouse.
14. O’Flagh Homestead This clan’s compound has a small
house, a mushroom shack and an outhouse.
15. Salts Homestead A rather unassuming house, a
storehouse, and an outhouse constitutes the Salt’s family
compound.
16. Gateway to the Greenway Beyond this area is the
greenway where most of Nowhere’s crops are grown.
A small cabal of Nowherians serves as Hunters. Typically,
the smallest and most agile of the folks are inducted into
that secret society, which acts as both a defensive force and
scavengers of whatever might be useful for the community.
Still, more importantly, they spend much of the more hospitable
months hunting mutant prairie dog—the settlement's primary
source of animal protein. The entire wasteland is pocked with
massive prairie dog towns full of the varmints.
Nowhere's peace and prosperity has allowed it to nurture
and maintain a few crafts. The Bescraft family maintains a
glass-blowing works and is exempt from working in the fields,
since glasswork is so essential for the canning of harvests and
drinking hooch.
The Galit family have several proficient tinkers and metal
workers but lack the Bescrafts’ dispensation from farm work,
so typically do the bulk of that work in the winter months.
Just about every family practices a craft to some extent, from
leatherworking and woodworking to brewing and distilling. The
typical Nowherian toils toward a level of comfort.
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All in all, life's pretty fucking boring but provides advantages
to mercs looking for a place to cool down for a few days and
get a little smashed.
NOWHERE AND OUTSIDERS
The people of Nowhere are friendly but cautious. They've
come across several wanderers and those who have somehow
stumbled upon the community. The Hunters kill those who
don’t contribute to Nowhere's little society or represent some
kind of unstable threat to the town’s peace. Exile is not an
option, as the townsfolk worry about those sent out coming
back with others to try and steal or take over what is theirs.
Nowherians value contribution. By the Original Charter, every
able-bodied person of majority must farm and work to preserve
the excess harvest. This goes for outsiders too. Unless, of
course, they are more suited for the Hunters, but then the
Hunters also have their contributions to pursue. In short, if you
want to stay in Nowhere, you must find a way to contribute and
in good faith. Slackers, bullies, and charlatans get their throat
slit in the middle of the night and turned into fertilizer, and no
one blinks an eye or even brings up the disappeared during
breakfast conversation.
Those that do consistently contribute, obey the laws, and
treat the folks of Nowhere well are treated like family—in both
good and bad ways. You'll always have a bed, a place at the
dinner table, and a glass full of hooch. Nowherians, however, by
nature, will ever pry into the particulars of their guests’ exploits
and goals, praising those they find beneficial, and heaping guilt
on those they find contrary to guide the newcomers toward the
“right path.” That path almost always includes settling down,
getting married, and producing offspring. The community
always needs a fresh infusion of new stock in order to at least
stay stable if not continue to grow.
NOWHERE LAW
The laws of Nowhere are inscribed in its Original Charter. This
document was supposedly written when the five original
families found the river and greenway. In honesty, few other
than the three folks on the current Council of Founders can
even read the charter's language—Neo-Esperanto.
The Council of Founders consists of all elders of the families—
the actual men and women who founded Nowhere. The youngest
of them is 70, and as they realize that they'll soon be dust, they
dream of turning over their seat on the Council to younger,
capable members of the community who can be taught to read
the Charter. To date, only a pair of the younger Nowherians fit
the bill, and one is ambitious and ruthless, and comes from one
of the adopted families (that is, not of a founding line). The other
is from a founding family but is not very bright. So, for now, all
three of the Founders fret for the future.
The Charter has the typical laws you would imagine that govern
a sane group of people—don't kill unless you have to, don't
steal, don't rape, don't purposely hurt another. Oddly, these laws
don't seem to apply to those outsiders who don't get with the
program. It also formalizes the compulsion for farm or hunting
work, and guidelines for excusing that work for the young, the
sick, and the old, and other special dispensations granted by the
Council of Founders. It also states that outsiders are to be treated
with hospitality until they are found lacking, and if found lacking
must be eliminated and recycled.
Beside all these general and cogent prohibitions and
compulsions, the Charter also features a virtual labyrinth of
oddball laws, some of which are so strange they might be a
misunderstanding of the often-vague Neo-Esperanto language.
Here are just a small sample of such laws.
• Before eating or preparing a pickled turnip, you must
ensure it bounces. Those that don't bounce must be used
as fertilizer.
• You must greet elders by looking them in the eye and
saying, “I see you.”
• If you spill hooch, you must say, “me bedarus” three times.
If you don't, you must go an entire moon cycle without
hooch.
• If you defecate anywhere but within an outhouse, you will
receive 10 lashes (with special dispensation for the young,
the sick, and the elderly). Urination outside of outhouses
does not suffer such prohibitions.
• If you are old and sickly and are confined in bed for one
full year, you must drink a mixture of inky mushroom and
hooch (which kills the offender).
THE POLITICS OF NOWHERE
No matter how tranquil a place might seem, there's always that
slick and slathering goo of politics churning deep within its
bowels. Nowhere is no different. Families have disagreements,
rival factions form, and life becomes a little harder for all
involved because of their disagreements and conflicts. Such
factionalism rarely devolves to violence—or at least nothing
more severe than an occasional brawl—but the persistent
gossiping and pettiness works to undermine the peace and
tranquility of Nowhere.
The key to understanding Nowhere politics is understanding
the relationships between the founding families and the so-
called “nuevo families.” The nuevo families are those outsider
folks who’ve been adopted by the community.
The Bescraft clan is the most powerful and influential of the
founding families. It's the largest clan, possesses the secrets
of glass-blowing, and enjoys the dispensation that spares it
the drudgery of fieldwork. To say that the Bescraft lord their
exclusive rights over the town would be an understatement.
Their matriarch, Kyan Bescraft, holds one of the seats on
the Council of Founders and is a hard-nosed, no-nonsense
voice of practicality and even ruthlessness. This tiny and wiry
woman of at least 80 is spry for her age and sharp as a tack.
Her formidable presence often overshadows the other two
surviving counselors, both men whom she easily dominates.
More often than not, Kyan’s will is the Council’s.
The Bescraft matriarch's power stems from not only her
indomitable will and keen intellect, but also her fluency in
Neo-Esperanto and comprehensive knowledge of the Charter.
But her greatest asset is her clan and its abundance of strong
and fertile women. While Nowhere is a paradise by current
standards, its people still face the hard life of hard work,
accidents, disease, and violence that plagues every settlement
in the Wasteland. And while mortality may be lower than
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THE IMPORTANT FAMILIES
OF NOWHERE
Bescraft (glass-blowing; founding family).
Controlling family with their matriarch, Kyan,
leading the Council of Founders. Consists of 11
members, with six women currently seeking
suitable spouses.
Galit (tinkers; nuevo family). Their patriarch
Belos is a harsh critic of the Bescraft, but the
widower also wants to marry Kyan’s youngest
granddaughter. The family is seven people
strong. This family designed and built the mill
and irrigation system for Nowhere’s greenspaces,
and serves as the tinkers and builders for the
settlement.
Klath (brewing; founding family). Eight members,
with all the older generation wiped away.
Laurith (candle-making and honey; nuevo family).
The newest and smallest family, it sports only a
father, mother, and young son. They keep quiet,
tending to support the Bescrafts.
Nimrods (muck-tenders; nuevo family). Disgraced
but ambitious, the family is overshadowed by the
devious Kais. About 15 years ago half of the family
was wiped out by a purge. It has five members.
O’Flagh (apothecaries; founding family). Their
patriarch, Mendris, sits on the council and has
tried to teach younger folks Neo-Esperanto. The
family is five members strong.
Salts (farming; founding family) Its patriarch
Landis sits on the Council, but is losing his
memory. This family tends to focus on farming
rather than politics these days. It consists of seven
people.
Turup (woodworking; founding family) This small
family of four people tends to keep to themselves
and focus on farming and their craft.
outside the hidden enclave, it is still an all-too-familiar visitor.
Kyan knows that the means of survival is through childbirth and
manipulates her daughters and granddaughters into strategic
marriages like a master strategist in the game of survival.
The relations with the Bescrafts and the other families are
complicated. No other family wants to displease Kyan and
her brood, and many wish to hitch their men to the clan via
marriage and childbirth, but there's a shit-ton of animosity
writhing in that particular pool of piss. The O'Flagh and the
Salts, two of the other four surviving founding families, have
elders on the council who usually defer to Kyan and her clan,
but are continually being pressured by their own to stand up
to the iron lady. But both Mendris O'Flagh and Landis Salts
are old and tired, and the latter suffers from slight bouts of
memory loss (or is maybe faking it). Neither is a match for the
indomitable Kyan, and they know it.
The other two founding families couldn't be more different.
The Klath clan are the chief brewers and distillers of the
4
settlement, but unlike the Bescrafts, they have been unable
to make secrets of their crafts. Their long-deceased patriarch,
Gregor Klath, went out of his way to teach the fundamentals of
brewing and distilling to all of the families in Nowhere's early
years. Nearly all of Klath's elders are gone now, and the new
generation is jealous of Bescraft's power. They often toy at
alliances with both the Galit and Nimrods, both nuevo families,
to try and foil Bescraft domination, but so far, such plans have
come to naught. On the other end of the spectrum, the Turup
clan is a quiet and unassuming family who has long stayed out
of politics.
The three remaining families are the nuevos. The oldest and
most significant of these families are the Galits. Absorbed into
the Nowhere fold a mere 15 years after the founding, the family
is filled with slightly eccentric and eclectic thinkers who dream
up a variety of devices and tools for the settlement. The Galits
devised the settlement's irrigation system, built the mill, and
are responsible for the upkeep of the Hunters’ weapons. Given
all that they've done and continue to do for the settlement,
they are frustrated by their lesser status as nuevos and covet
the special dispensation from farmwork that the Bescraft has.
Their patriarch, Belos Galit, is among the Bescrafts’ harshest
critics when the widower is not trying to woo Kyan's youngest
granddaughter, Lillan, who has only recently come into her
majority.
The newest family is the Lauriths, who joined the settlement
only five years ago, bringing their bees and the secrets of honey
and candle-making. Only three members active and grateful for
the peace that Nowhere provides; they make little waves.
The same can't be said for the Nimrods. Originally called the
Orsons, this family has been troublemakers from the start. The
original clan joined the community some two decades ago,
and in less than five years, they made a rather idiotic attempt
to overthrow the council and burn the Charter. The rest of the
families stopped them, killing most of their clan, and agreed
to let those young and innocent enough to stay, only if they
renamed themselves the Nimrods, and agreed to several
penances. These included hauling the shit from the outhouses
to the middens, never engaging in the crafts of brewing and
distilling (the Orsons' drunkenness was touted as the main
reason for the uprising), and being responsible for an increased
crop yield each season.
Since then, while quietly accepting their lot, the family is a
seething mess of resentment and plots, though impotent to
make good on their vengeful schemes. It also doesn't help that
most of the Nimrods are, in fact, utter fuckwits. That is, except
for Kais Nimrod. This middle son of the family has a brain, and
has manipulated the soft-hearted Landis Salts to teach him
Neo-Esperanto once Landis realized his son Jaco was a bit too
dim to learn the language's nuances. Kais is a cold and ruthless
son of a bitch, duplicitous and conniving, but also handsome
and charismatic. He has already stolen the heart of the young
Lillan Bescraft and manipulates the girl in his ultimate plan to
throw down her clan and rule Nowhere.
THE HUNTERS
In sharp contrast to the squabbles and petty politics of the
Nowhere families, are the Hunters. In theory, the Hunters stand
apart from the rest of Nowherian society, with children who
show promise for hunting entering the Lodge, both a building
for the group and a symbol of the organization to which they
commit themselves. Once there, they undergo a series of trials
tailor-made to strip away their identity and allegiance to family.
These trials tear down the ego, replacing it with devotion to the
Lodge. Once indoctrinated, each Hunter loses their family name
and is given a Hunter name, typically a crude and often rude
name that reflects their faults. For instance, one of the leaders
of the Hunters is named Dogfucker. You can imagine how he
got that moniker.
Of course, it’s all somewhat imperfect in practice. While
each member of the Hunters is supposedly stripped of their
family identity altogether, such allegiances die hard, and many
Hunters still maintain clandestine ties to their original family.
Flaws in the system aside, the Hunters serve as the first
line of defense against the horrors of the outside world, and
are an instrumental fighting force, doing much with very little.
They are also trained as rather sneaky fuckers and fearless
scavengers, hunting down the giant prairie dogs of the wastes,
and other smaller game, and gathering anything that might be
useful for the settlement’s survival.
Sneaking about in pairs, Hunters will likely be the first folk
mercs encounter before reaching Nowhere. Hunters are curious
but extremely cautious with strangers. There might stalk a
group of mercs for as long as possible and try to increase their
numbers before making contact. They are usually 14 hunters
total around at any given time, with a little more than half
that number roaming the wastes around Nowhere. They have
developed and practice elaborate bird and animal calls, and
can communicate basic messages to each other at distances
from a half-mile to a mile within the valley where Nowhere is
located.
TRADE
Compared to the world at large, Nowhere’s a storehouse for
clean water and food (if you don’t mind eating preserved beets
and other root vegetables supplemented with strips of giant
prairie dog jerky). Even better, the place has hooch! But while
Nowhere is rather bountiful when it comes to these staple
products, it has a definitive lack of others.
First and foremost, Nowhere has very few bullets and guns,
and those they do get are given to the Hunters. Very few of the
family folks have guns and bullets. The Galit has a handful of
firearms in various states of disrepair they are always looking
for salvage to fix. It’s said the Bescraft clan has a stash of a few
rifles and pistols, and you can bet those weasels the Nimrods
have a stash of some weapons. Still, such firepower is rarely
seen out in the open within the settlement. The handful of
firearms the Hunters hoard are kept in the Lodge under lock
and key until they go exploring. These shortages
NOWHERE HUNTER DIFFICULTY 10
Defense 12 Health 29 Size 1 Speed 5
Muscles 11 Hands 13 Brains 11 Mouth 10
Meat 12 Feet 13 Eyes 11 Guts 10
Sneaky When the hunter would hide or sneak, make the attribute roll with
1 asset.
Gear light armor, crossbow, spear
WEAPONS
Spear (melee) Roll Hands (+3) with 1 asset to hit Defense: Success: 1d6
damage; range 10, thrown
Crossbow (range 30) Roll Hands (+3) with 1 asset to hit Defense: Success:
1d6+2 damage, action to reload
GIANT PRAIRIE DOG DIFFICULTY 5
Defense 12 Health 12 Size 1/2 Speed 6
Muscles 12 Hands 10 Brains 6 Mouth 10
Meat 12 Feet 12 Eyes 12 Guts 12
Skittish When a creature moves into the prairie dog’s reach, and it is within 5
yards of a prairie dog hole, it can retreat as a reaction down the hole.
WEAPONS
Teeth (melee) Roll Muscles (+2) with 1 asset to hit Defense: Success 1d6
damage.
grant an advantage to those wishing to trade such items with
Nowherians. But such trade and even carrying such weapons in
the village have restrictions.
According to the Charter, bullets and firearms can only be
sold to the Council of Founders, but the Council will likely
trade at a rate of two bullets for each unit of food, water, and
medicine, or three bullets for each unit of hooch. How much is
a unit of hooch? Well, enough to get one person plastered for
a couple of nights or just one night if they’re a raging alcoholic
(like the designers and writers of this game). A normal person
might draw it out to get good and numb for three or four
nights. But when have mercs ever been normal people?
Firearms, rocket launchers, and spearguns, and similar
powerful projectile weapons can also be sold to the Council for
10% above the prices presented in PunkApocalyptic, Chapter 4,
but only for units of food, water, and medicine. Council-bought
items typically go right to the Hunters.
You can probably try to sell these items on the down-low
to the Klaths, Galits, and Nimrods, and you will get a higher
value for them (typically 1 bullet for each unit of food, water,
or medicine, with firearms and the like for 20% above listed
prices). But if word gets out, you’ll probably get your throat slit
by the members of other families.
While there is no prohibition against trading power and fuel
within Nowhere, the relative low-tech aspect of the settlement
means not very many people want such things, except for
maybe the Galits. Fuel is used on the rare lantern or Molotov
cocktail, and to burn off the middens, while there are very few
gadgets that require power within the settlement, and most of
them have been snatched up by the builder family for tinkering.
5

PART 2: THE SHIT
GOES DOWN
Well, now you have a snapshot of Nowhere at its prime. Sure, it
has its problems, but it’s fucking heaven compared to the world
outside. Now we’re gonna watch the place burn.
How did this come about? Let’s just say an ambitious fucker
bit off more than he could chew. Yeah, you got it. The whole
thing was started by that slimy son of a bitch Kais Nimrod. You
see, one of his younger brothers is a Hunter named Shits-In-
The-Soup (or just Soup for short), and they have one of those
imperfect relationships that happen when the Hunters snatch a
young one away from their family. Anyhow, Soup came across
a small camp of wanderers in the wastes, just beyond a spot
the Hunters call Last Jags, a jumble of crumbling concrete and
twisted steel that the prairie dogs love to hide in, easy pickings
for a Hunter. The group was small but full of tough hombres,
armed to the teeth. Soup made contact (or more like stumbled
upon them and neither side seemed interested in immediately
killing the other). He found their leader, a big motherfucker
named Bad Tooth, to be a likable enough sort—for a mutated
degenerate, that is. Soup went back with the news, but instead
of sharing it with his fellow Hunters, he told Kais about the
meeting. It didn’t take long for the gears in Kais’s devious mind
to start turning. He braved the wastes with Soup, met with Bad
Tooth, and they concocted a plan to bring Bad Tooth’s band
into Nowhere’s fold and perform some wetwork for the Nimrod
family, of course.
What neither Kais or Soup suspected was that Bad
Tooth’s little band was just the vanguard of a much larger
and degenerate band what goes by the charming name the
Gnasher-Mashers. The Gnasher-Mashers caught wind that
some crazy place with a lot of food, water, and soft flesh was
tucked away somewhere beyond the wastes, and they came
a-looking. Who clued them off, it could have been anybody, but
boy would it suck if it were one of the mercs who got too drunk
one night and let their tongue start a wagging, wouldn’t it?
No matter who spilled the beets, Kais’s hope to gain
control of Nowhere soon became its doom, when a bunch of
bloodthirsty and sadistic perverts with a stockpile of death-
dealing weapons made short work of most of the Hunters and
rode roughshod over the once-peaceful settlement. It’s bad.
Really fucking bad. What’s described below is just the tip of
the bloody spear. We’ll skip the worst, most depraved acts the
Gnasher-Mashers inflicted in their initial push into Nowhere.
It’s PunkApocalyptic, so you can easily use your imagination, or
maybe it’s best not to think about it unless you get off on that
shit, friendo.
THE MISSION
The salvation of at least what is left of Nowhere starts amid the
shitstorm. It assumes the mercs are showing up days late and
bullets short. Much damage has been done, but all is not lost.
Unless the mercs decide to say fuck it and leave, there’s a slim
chance they can save the day.
6
The mission to save Nowhere is designed for five expert path
mercs. It assumes the mercs began their relationship with the
settlement when they were starting or even novice, built some
connections and got the lay of the land. It also works if this is
the first time the mercs come across Nowhere but lacks the
emotional punch of seeing folks they’ve traded with, drank
hooch with, and quite possibly fucked (in the good way) get
the pointed end of the shitstick shoved up their asses (quite
literally, in the case of some Gnasher-Masher executions, with
several townsfolk impaled alive on sharpened poles). It’s sad
but true—seeing random fuckers you don’t know viciously
murdered lacks a certain immediacy or intimacy. More effective
and heart-wrenching if the GM was able to make the mercs
establish some kind of connection with the settlement.
If you want to spring this whole mess on the mercs a little
early or when they’re masters or your group has fewer or fewer
mercs, you’ll want to adjust the number or the type of foes
and challenges presented below. You can find excellent advice
on how to do this in the Missions section of Chapter 5 in the
PunkApocalyptic rulebook.
You can use the basic map of Nowhere to help describe the
encounters; you’ll want to get out markers, paint, or beet juice
to paint on the mayhem when the mercs encounter new scenes
in the settlement. Feel free to make it messy. The Gnasher-
Mashers sure as shit have.
How will you and the mercs know that the mission
is accomplished? Well, that’s easy. When every single
motherfucking Gnasher-Masher is dead. Maybe the mercs
might allow one or two of them to escape. Yeah, sure. That’s a
victory of a kind, but you know some of those assholes will try
this whole thing again. Killing the shit outta every single last
one is the only way to be sure.
THE APPROACH
Even from a distance, the mercs catch wind that something
has gone very wrong. The occasional chimney smoke of the
settlement has made way to billows of black smoke thicker
than when the Nimrods burn out the middens. Getting closer to
the narrow entrance path is when they see the carnage. A few
townsfolk are impaled as described above, half a dozen Hunter
heads are posted on pikes, and Shits-In-The-Soup is crucified,
his arms and legs brutally broken, supported on a T-frame by
his ruined appendages lashed behind his back. Surprisingly, he’s
still alive, but not for long.
Unfortunately, a group of Gnasher-Masher sentries is
stationed outside, a tough-skinned mutant (Defense 13), a
mastiff, and 2 scumbags who attack any non-Gnasher-Masher
who dares approach. Even if they’re losing, they don’t attempt
to warn the rest of their band—they’re just too dumb and
bloodthirsty for that.
Once the sentries are dispatched, Soup has mere moments
to live. He’s too far gone for help, but he might have enough life
left to answer a couple or three questions. He is in deep pain
and shock, so the answers may not make much sense, and he
knows little of the state inside of Nowhere, but he can at least
fill in the details of how this happened.
THE MESS
And what a mess it is. Much of Nowhere is on fire. The Council
Moot, along with the homesteads of the Lauriths, the Nimrods,
and O’Flaghs are all aflame. Individual Gnasher-Mashers or
small groups are roaming about looking for more people to
molest and/or kill, along with anything that can burn. These
fuckers can be encountered at any time, as they’re scattered
throughout Nowhere. A typical encounter will consist of either
a single brute, a trio of mutants (each with a single random
mutation), or a scumbag armed with a blunderbuss. Oh, and if
that weren’t bad enough, the Laurith’s bees! are without a hive,
and are flying about in a swarm, extremely pissed off at the
world. The rest of the Gnasher-Mashers are up to even greater
acts of despicable violence in a few key areas.
2. HUNTER’S LODGE
The Lodge now serves as a charnel house for a group of
Gnasher-Mashers. A badass with a pistol and six bullets leads
a group of 6 scumbags, who are busy torturing, ravaging, and
mutilating the last group of 3 Nowhere hunters. It’s a bloody
mess. There has been much killing already, and the floor is
slick with blood and viscera. Creatures moving more than their
Speed over the course of a round must succeed on a Feet roll or
fall prone.
Of the surviving Nowhere hunters, one is so far gone, they’ll
not be any use. But if the mercs are quick enough, they can
save the other two, but both of them are at 15 Health. They are
ready to fight, though, each wanting to kill the shit outta some
Gnasher-Mashers.
5. BESCRAFT HOMESTEAD
By far, what’s going on in the Bescraft Homestead is the worst.
Bad Tooth is here, and though he seemed charming when Soup
first met him, he is just a sick and manipulative bastard. Oh,
and he’s a cannibal and likes to introduce others to the taste of
human flesh.
At the point of the mercs’ approach, he’s killed off most of
the Bescraft family. That wily Kyan is hiding in an old trunk in
the basement. She’s a survivor that one. But he has Kais Nimrod
and young Lillan sitting at the dining room table, forcing them
to share the most disgusting parts of Lillan’s relatives with him
at gunpoint. Of course, he brooks no interruption of his culinary
party and won’t hesitate to use his revolver to take care of
unwanted guests.
Once Bad Tooth is taken care of, and the mercs search
the house, they’ll likely find Kyan in her hiding place and the
Bescraft stash of guns (a pistol, two rifles, and a dozen bullets).
Kyan insists the mercs use them to take out the rest of the
Gnasher-Mashers if they haven’t already.
10. STOREHOUSES
A group of 4 scumbags started looting the storehouses, but
then found a store of hooch. They are all drunk, and suffer
1d3 complications to all attack and attribute rolls but will still
attempt to put up a fight.
15. SALTS AND GALIT HOMESTEADS
Once the mercs make it to Nowhere’s outskirts, they find nearly
the entire Salts family has scampered on their roof. Landis was
too old and slow, and his hacked-up body is scattered near the
front door. A scumbag and two mutants (one with the leaper
mutation and the other with the brutal charge mutation) have
just started setting the Salt home on fire. Only fast thinking and
hard fighting will save the family.
The Galits were relatively lucky, having planned for just such
an occurrence years ago. Other than two of their family who
got caught outside when the Gnasher-Mashers rolled into
town, the rest hid in a makeshift escape bunker built in a cave
they discovered below their homestead. While their house was
torched and destroyed, they were able to stash most of their
precious tools and gear safe in the bunker.
WRAPPING IT ALL UP
We are just going to assume that the mercs didn’t end up
either on Bad Tooth’s banquet table, or being forced to eat their
friend, or more mercifully, with their heads on pikes or bodies
anally impaled on stakes. It’s just cheerier that way.
Once the Gnasher-Mashers are defeated, all that’s left is
picking up the pieces and moving on. Sure, the mercs will be
heroes, and the survivors of Nowhere will hold them in even
greater esteem, but there’s little resting on that particular
laurel. There’s a lot of rebuilding to do, and who knows who the
Gnasher-Mashers told about Nowhere, so maybe the moving
on part might be the smartest thing to do. But who knows?
Perhaps Nowhere can be rebuilt, stay safe, and the folks can
forget about this little incident and live on drunk and happy to
a ripe old age, though it’s just as likely they won’t. Given their
relative state of healthiness, the Galit family is likely to lead
any possible renaissance of the town.
Stranger things have happened in the Wasteland, though,
and always will.
BAD TOOTH DIFFICULTY 25
Defense 12 Health 50 Size 1 Speed 5
Muscles 12 Hands 11 Brains 10 Mouth 13
Meat 12 Feet 12 Eyes 10 Guts 11
Very Competent Bad Tooth makes attack rolls with 1 asset (included).
Gear light armor, machete, revolver with 6 bullets
WEAPONS
Machete (melee) Roll Muscles (+2) with 1 asset to hit Defense: Success 1d6
+ 2 damage
Revolver (range 15 yards) Roll Hands (+1) with 1 asset to hit Defense; Success
1d6 + 3; reload, unreliable
SPECIAL ACTIVITIES
Get In Your Head On Bad Tooth’s turn, he can use a reaction to target
one creature within 5 yards. The target makes attribute rolls with
1 complication for 1 round.
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