2089, 91 years after the atomic war, wandering through the desert you arrive at the new Desert Ranger fortress. All you need right now is a place to wait out the night and a meal. There are dozens more like you near the Desert Ranger fortress. What are you gonna do next?

The bartender takes notice of you as he sees your face in the reflection on the mirror behind his bar. He nods briefly before turning away to fix another drink for a patron further down the counter. The smell of stale sweat and alcohol fills the air, making it difficult to discern any other scents that might indicate food or markets. However, you can see a number of people moving about in front of the fortress, presumably seeking out their own sources of sustenance.

The bartender shrugs, looking slightly taken aback by your question. "Rab... slavers? I don't know, man. It's been a long time since anyone around here sold humans like that." He pauses for a moment, then adds with a sly grin, "Unless you wanna go up to Las Vegas and try your luck in the casinos, of course." His laugh echoes through the dimly lit bar.

The bartender chuckles, clearly amused by your persistence. "Well, if you really want to find the slavers, I heard they sometimes hang out at the abandoned mine just south of here." He jerks a thumb in the general direction and then goes back to mixing drinks. As you step outside, the harsh desert sun beats down on your back. Dust clouds kick up around your feet as a group of ragged individuals shuffle past, heading north toward Needles or Quartz. The mine entrance is clearly visible in the distance, its gaping maw dark and foreboding against the barren landscape.

The closer you get to the abandoned mine, the more uneasy you feel. Shadows dance across the rocky terrain as if they are alive, and an oppressive sense of foreboding fills your chest. Still, you press onward, determined to find answers about these slavers. As you near the entrance, you see movement inside; the flicker of torchlight barely visible through gaps in the rocks. With a final step forward, you enter the gloomy depths of the mine, prepared for whatever horrors may lie within...

You step into the mine, immediately assaulted by the thick smell of mold and damp stone. The flickering torchlight illuminates jagged walls covered in graffiti and the remains of long-defunct machinery. A group of people mill about near the entrance, muttering to each other nervously. One man with a particularly menacing air about him seems to be in charge; he glances in your direction several times, making it clear that he's aware of your presence.

You step forward and address the menacing man, trying to project an air of confidence. "I heard you might have some slaves for sale." Your voice echoes through the cavernous mine as the other figures stop their nervous muttering, drawn in by your words. The menacing man narrows his eyes but doesn't immediately respond; he nods toward a smaller, more distant chamber off to one side of the main cave.

"Follow me," he growls, leading the way through the darkness.

The sinister-looking slaver guides you through the mine's labyrinthine passages. As you follow him deeper into the darkness, the air grows even more oppressive and humid; moisture collects on your skin like a clinging presence. Every few steps, your footfalls echo eerily through the cavernous space, making it difficult to ignore the sense of being watched from every shadowy corner.

Eventually, the slaver brings you to a large chamber with walls covered in rough stonework. Chains and manacles dangle ominously from rusty iron hooks embedded in the rock. In the center of the room, a small group of people huddle together, their faces etched with fear and despair. As you enter, they glance warily up at your new companion before lowering their eyes again.

The slaver chuckles darkly. "They're all healthy and strong, ready for work." He gestures toward the terrified group, taking on an almost proprietary air. "You can choose as many or as few as you like."

A small boy tries to shrink away from your view, whimpering softly. His face is bruised and filthy, and his eyes are filled with hopelessness. A young woman nearby clings to him desperately, tears streaming down her cheeks. They seem to be the center of attention for now, drawing you in against your will.

The slaver laughs cruelly. "You've got a taste for the older ones, huh?" He spits on the ground and gestures toward another group of captives nearby. "There are some strong ones in that bunch." Then his expression turns serious as he leans in closer to you, lowering his voice. "But they'll cost you more than these scrawny kids." His gaze flicks meaningfully back toward the terrified youngsters before returning to your face.

"What do you say? Which ones shall it be?"

The slaver snorts derisively. "Looking for something more refined, are we?" He gestures to a group of middle-aged women standing nearby. Unlike the younger captives, these women carry themselves with an air of dignity and resilience. Their faces are etched with hardship, but their eyes hold a defiance that cannot be easily broken. "These ladies know their place in the world," the slaver says with a cruel smile. "And they'll fetch a pretty penny from the right buyer."

His gaze flicks briefly to your companion before returning to you, sizing up his reaction. "So, what do you say? You interested in some prime-age stock?"

As you survey the older captives once more, your eyes alight upon a woman who seems to fit your description. She stands tall and proud despite her chains, with full hips and breasts that strain against her tattered blouse. Her dark hair is tied back into a messy ponytail, revealing defined cheekbones and an equally defiant gaze. The slaver notices your interest in the woman and smirks knowingly.

"Ah, I see you've found someone to your liking." His tone is mocking as he steps closer to her. "You won't find a better specimen than this one here." He roughly yanks on her chain, forcing her to look up at him. The woman spits in his face and growls defiantly.

"She's feisty, isn't she?" the slaver says with a laugh. "But I suppose that

"She's about thirty, just like you asked. And she was one of our best catches in the ruins outside Vegas." The slaver pauses for a moment, eyeing you appraisingly before continuing. "Her name is Nala, by the way. A real survivor." He chuckles darkly. "I'd pay good coin to see her put some spirit back into your group."

The choice is yours: do you want to purchase this woman, Nala? If so, how much are you willing to offer for her?

"Well now," the slaver grins wickedly. "I don't have a set price on Nala just yet. She's quite special, you see. But I'm sure we can work something out if she strikes your fancy enough." He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the rocky wall, watching you carefully for your reaction.

The choice is yours: do you want to try haggling with the slaver or make him an offer straight away?

The slaver's grin widens as he listens to your offer. "Hmm... I suppose that's a fair price," he says slowly, weighing his words carefully. His gaze flickers toward Nala and back again, considering the trade-off. After a moment, he nods curtly. "Alright then, you've got yourself a deal."

He reaches into his pocket and produces a dirty piece of parchment, handing it to you with a gruff motion. "There are the terms," he says simply before turning away to address the others in the chamber. "The rest of you can go back to your cells. This one's sold."

As the other captives file out of the room, leaving only yourself and the slaver, Nala glares defiantly at both of you. Her body is tense, ready to lash out if given even the slightest

The slaver merely scoffs at her hostility and waddles off, no doubt eager to find new prey elsewhere. "Don't worry," he says over his shoulder as he disappears down the darkened tunnel, "I'll make sure you get to your new home safely." His voice echoes long after he's gone.

Nala continues glaring at you for several moments more before finally seeming to relent slightly. Her body language appears less confrontational now as she takes stock of her surroundings and the fact that you are, technically, her new owner. "Who the hell do you think you are?" she demands.

The choice is yours: how do you respond to Nala's question?