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That's right, this is Benson—a decent-sized town along the I-10. A nice place with clean water from a fine well and enough food that folks don’t go hungry most of the time. It has a problem with raiders, but what town in these parts doesn’t? Most of the neighboring settlements are a little less than friendly, but that’s not unusual either. Beyond that, what little trade manages to make its way along the I-10 has to go through Benson, ensuring a trickle of goods and caps into the town.
The election—right, that’s still a little fuzzy. You remember being invited to share some homebrew with a handful of passing acquaintances. The conversation turned to politics and how the town had been lacking a mayor and sheriff for months. A ransom deal with a group of Jackals had gone wrong, claiming both of their lives, and the town struggled on as something of a direct democracy in the intervening months. Most folks seemed to want firmer leadership, but no one was ready to step up.
Apparently, you made some speech that convinced your acquaintances you were the man for the job. Then you remember being in the street, riling up a crowd. Then some bum challenging you—talking about a workers' revolution and the need to cast off bourgeois governance for good. Then you remember the tar, the feathers, and running the damn red out of town. Then there was some more homebrew, and, well… then you woke up mayor of Benson, apparently.
>“Okay… yeah, it’s starting to come back to me… Ashley, right? You’re my assistant? Right, so… fill me in. I don’t know much about this mayor business, but I know the town needs some sort of leadership, and I ain’t about to back down from a challenge. So, fill me in—what’s this job look like?”
“Well, to start…”
