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“What is this place?” You approach with the foreman in tow–the building, temple-like, hums as desert wind dances around the pillars.
“It’s a MUTATION CHURCH. They like to spread the good word of radiation and mutate regular humans. Like you, I guess. Wait, you’re not mutated, right?” He looks you up and down. “Uh.. I can’t tell. Well, they’re real annoying nonetheless. Their missionaries are always knocking on your door when you’re sitting down for dinner, asking if you’ve heard the good word and spilling their big sloppy buckets of radioactive waste everywhere..”
“Greetings, children.” A very tall mutant cactus-like figure stands at the front of the temple. “I am CHOLLA ANATOLIA, a RAD PRIEST of the MUTATION CHURCH. What brings you to our hallowed steps?”
>What do they even do here?
>Ask for a bucket of radioactive waste. For the road.
>Do a 360 and walk away. You do not want to risk getting mutated.
>[Write-In.]
