Lorcan "Bás" Connolly's Story

War... War never changes...

The bombs had come without mercy, and the nuclear fires had burned their human builders into a scrambling, sorry picture of day-to-day survival. Government had collapsed, Law and Order were only found at the end of a gun, and Justice was burried in the irradiated dirt.

Out in the wilds of the western formerly-united States, no one had bothered to waste their oridnance. Few - if any - bombs impacted here. That didnt spare civilization. What didnt go to hell in the chaos of the fallout was swallowed up by the unforgiving sands of the Mojave Desert, come to reclaim the land with new vigor.

Here's where your sorry asses come in.

You've survived however you've survived; by the luck of the New California Republic, by the grace of Ceasar's Legion, or by the pure gritty determination of the Independant. You may've done some things you're not proud of.. or maybe you're very proud of them. Maybe you're the last hope for Good out here in this shit hole. .. Maybe you're just proud of the fear you bring. Whatever your story was, is, or will be, it starts here, as the dusty sun rises on yet another frying day in the Mojave wastes in the distant shadow of Ceasar's New Vegas.

----

Tam watched them stir, from underneath the red rock that was already in the sun. Like a lizard, she pressed her back against the warming sandstone to ease the night's chill out of her shoulders in preparation for the sun's merciless beating. With her rifle balanced on her folded knees and the comfort of the deep shadow all around her, she could afford a bit of smug, self-satisfied confidence.

Her take'd been small. It had to be. If she was going to milk these suckers for all they were worth before they got wise, she couldnt afford to get greedy. A bite of Cram, a few loose caps they'd been playing Caravan with, a half-empty bottle of water. Oh! And the penny.

Grinning down at its dull shine in her fingers, she turned it over and over between them. Worthless, to anyone else. But it struck her fancy, and its little flashes made her happy. She might just hang onto that. Carefully dropping it into one of the endlessly full pockets in the worn brahmin-leather trench coat, the heat of the rock was beginning to burn through it, reminding her that it would be time to move soon.

Below, they were already breaking camp. A couple of putzes slogging through the worst parts of the Mojave in a way that screamed they werent locals. One of them was in power armor. Oh, man, to get her hands on some of that... she'd be in caps until old age. Right now, though, it just gave her another reason to avoid the hell out of them while they were awake.

She gives them a while longer, until they were mobile; reduced to specks on the trek along the ruined asphalt. It's then that Tam moves, slithering down out of the rocks and into the baking sun. Man, it was a hot one today. How the hell the big one stood to be in that armor, she'd never know. Giggling to herself, she imagines him as a mutated, living can of cooked Scram, sizzling as he mosey'd along.

That thought amuses the scavenger for several more hours as Tam skips from scrub brush to gulley to dune, always out of sight, and grateful for the firepower in front of her that spooks or kills anything wild enough to come take a look.

So far, it was a good day in the Mojave.

Lorcan Bás Connolly

Holding his hand up, Lorcan admired the suns rays as its light past through the cracks between his fingers. In his other hand was a freshly opened bottle of whiskey, a gift from a recently-made friend. "As I look upon the world, I find my sanity slowly drifting like dust simply frolicking in the wind." Lorcan stood up from his chair and took a large swig of his whiskey. "Oi, that was pretty good. What do you think?" He turned his head, looking to the wall behind him. "Oi? I'm talking to you." Taking another drink, Lorcan put the whiskey bottle down on the ground. Lorcan sighed and walked around the wall. "What, you don't want to talk anymore? You all were so keen on it when you made me stop earlier." Behind the wall were three Legionnaires, all buried up to their necks in the Mojave sand. Lorcan walked over to the one in the center, crouching in front of him. "Do you feel like talking? I understand you guys aren't real big on trusting outsiders. But, I mean, you're going to have to trust me eventually." Lorcan stood up and started pacing in front of the three. "I can't believe how you treat me after everything I've done for you already. I mean, if it weren't for me, your friend would have to visit the clinic to get that tooth pulled." Lorcan walked over the the Legionnaire on the right, bending down and grabbing his head. He ran his right hand index finger along the man's chin before forcing open the man's mouth to reveal a bloody mess, all his teeth missing and his gums a deep purple, likely due to a major loss of blood. "Granted, it did not go as smoothly as I thought it would, but I was under a severe amount of pressure. I mean he just kept struggling and my hand just couldn't stay steady... probably from all the alcohol." Lorcan stood back up and walked over to the center Legionnaire. "I guess I'll stay here for awhile. When you're ready to talk I'm ready to listen." In the blink of an eye, Lorcan removed his Sequoia and shot the right Legionnaire in the temple with pinpoint accuracy, despite not turning his head to aim. The Sequoia was a powerful revolver, normally used with two hands by most. Even with this, Lorcan fired the gun one-handed and revealed little to no reaction to the recoil, his arm staying steady.

"Monster." Lorcan turned his head to the Legionnaire on the left, who up until this point had been mostly ignored by Lorcan. Letting out a loud sigh, Lorcan walked over to the man and grabbed him by the hair, tilting his head back. "No. Not a monster. Want to know something? See, for the most part, the NCR doesn't know how to fight the Legion. See, to catch a living Legionnaire isn't difficult, you just have to know how to do it. Knock them unconscious, keep them from going the way of the blade and killing themselves. You see, I've noticed something. Due to the fact you are expected to kill yourselves before getting captured, the level of torture you can endure has never been truly explored. I'll be right back." Lorcan disappeared around the corner, kicking up dirt into their faces as he did so. He came back not even a minute later. "Where was I? Oh yeah, for the most part the NCR does not allow torture. That's why people like me exist. I say people, person. That's why I exist. To do what needs to be done, so the bear can continue to eat." Lorcan grabbed the Legionnaire by the hair once again and removed a pair of binoculars from inside his coat. Holding them up to the Legionnaire's eyes, he directed his sight directly to the sun. The Legionnaire screamed out in pain.

Lorcan continued this for precisely five minutes. "Three... two... one. And we have a new form of torture! Congratulations, tell them what he has won. Blindness. You will never regain sight. Your strongest sense has left you forever." Lorcan stood up, the Legionnaire passing out from the pain and shock. He walked over to the other one, who was noticeably shaking despite most of his body being unusable. "Alright, the next contestant is up to play! Let's hope he can do better than the last one." The Legionnaire begged Lorcan, finally agreeing to tell him whatever he wanted to know. After a few questions Lorcan grabbed the man's throat. "Come on! I told you what you wanted to know!" Lorcan smiled and patted the man on the head with his other hand. "Did you really think I give a shit about patrol routes? Damn, kid, you're dumber than I thought you'd be. This isn't about information. This is about sending a message." Lorcan removed a small blade from his back pocket, a butterfly knife that he flipped open. "No one likes a rat, Legionnaire. I removed his speech. Speak no evil. I removed his sight. See no evil. All that's left is Hear no evil." The Legionnaire screamed, Lorcan not even bothering to hide the noise.

The blind Legionnaire awoke, finding himself free of his hole. "Sanus, are you okay? Sanus?!" Using his hands to find his way around, he crawled on the ground, patting the ground in front of him. He eventually hit something hard, but furry, like someone's hair. "Sanus? Answer me!" Moving his hands around, he found Sanus' head to be completely covered in a thick liquid, realizing immediately the only thing that it could be. Standing up, Sanus put his hands out in front of him. The heat from the sun was similar to how it was before he past out, so he knew he couldn't have been out for long. Taking small steps, the Legionnaire ventured out into the waste, hoping that a patrol would find him in his drifting.

Lorcan Bás Connolly

About An Hour Before The Events In Nipton...

Two Legionnaires stood on the outside of the Outpost near the edge of the Mojave, where the Long 15 enters the desert. Formally a Ranger Outpost, it had been taken over by the Legion after the loss of Hoover. The night was quiet, as was the usual lately. With the growing strength of the Legion, security around such outposts was much tighter than the rather lax treatment given by the NCR. The two guards were use to serving the night shift together, and as such were planning on spending most of their night chatting and maybe playing a hand of caravan or two. On the outside of the Outpost laid the former monument to the peace between the NCR and Desert Rangers. The monument was in ruins, having been torn down and left to collect sand within its hollowed remains. The Legionnaires would often challenge each other to bets, most often pertaining to who could defame the once large fixture of the Mojave with the most scrutiny.

"Hey," said one Legionnaire to the other, "Did you hear about that guy who hit the jackpot at The Forum? I heard he really pissed off the person put in charge of running it by Caesar."
"Oh yeah? How much did he get?"
"Rumor says nearly two thousand. With that kind of money we could get out of bitch duty for sure."
"Rumor? Man, I told you, you shouldn't listen to rumors. Especially, the ones that come out of New Ve-"

The Legionnaires stopped talking, the sound of a loud clapping interrupting their conversation. The sound was coming from the remnants of the statues, more specifically, behind the torso of the NCR Ranger. The Legionnaires looked at each other, nodding in agreement to check it out. Despite their placement within the Mojave, the two were clearly experienced in combat, but mostly against raiders and the occasional loose criminal. They moved in unison, covering each others backs while moving toward the noise. As they got closer, they could hear a voice, that seemed to be... singing. The two moved closer, standing on the opposite side of the fallen statue. The voice became perfectly clear, the clapping somewhat inconsistent with the rhythm of the song.

"I didn't have a thing where my balls used to hang,
But I got a wood medal and a fine harangue.
Now I'm a fucking hero.

Mourn your dead land of the free
If you want to be a hero follow me.
Mourn your dead land of the free
If you want to be a hero follow me..."

The two Legionnaire's moved slowly around the statue, the voice sounding as little more than a whisper but the clapping still persisting. As they rounded the statue, they held up their rifles and pointed them directly at the person. The man was slapping his leg and muttering to himself, sitting down and using the statue to support his back. His brown hat was angled down, hiding the man's face as he seemed to be staring blankly at the ground. The Legionnaires lowered their guns and approached the man, one taping him on the shoulder with the tip of his rifle. "Hey, what are you doing out here? The sunset a while ago. Leave." Despite the command, the man continued to sit on the ground, clapping his leg and muttering. "Hey!" The Legionnaire walked in front of the man and kicked dirt at the man's shoes. "I'm talking to you, asshole!" The man raised his hand and motioned for the Legionnaire to come closer. The Legionnaire raised an eyebrow, motioning for his comrade to watch the man for any sudden moves. The Legionnaire moved closer to the man, nearly being face to face with him.

"When one and twenty cannon thunder
Into the bloody wild blue yonder
For a patriotic ball-less wonder.
Now I'm a fucking hero!"

The man grabbed the Legionnaire by the throat and pivoted his body, using the Legionnaire as a human shield, even while sitting. Removing the Legionnaires knife from his left hip holster, and throwing it at the other, he pierced the man's throat. The Legionnaire managed to get a few shots off, but due to his wound they were more from his hand tightening around the trigger, causing him to mostly shoot at the ground. Lorcan snapped the others neck, calmly standing up and leaving the Legionnaires body were it laid. Removing his Sequoia from his right hip holster, Lorcan cracked his neck and began a slow pace toward the Outpost.

Present Time...

Apollo

Adjusting the strap of his sheathe, Apollo continued his walk down the road. He decided to take one last look at Nipton before continuing up the road too far to see it. His eyes widened at what he saw. Nipton was only a short ways up the Long 15 from the Outpost. Next to Primm, it was probably the closest place where civilization was bound to sprite up. Due to this, few beyond the settlements of Nipton and Primm could see what Apollo saw as he turned around. In the distance, Apollo could see a fire, burning brightly in the night sky. The fire was in the direction of the Outpost. While it was not large enough to bring day to the night sky, anyone within a few mile radius only had to turn their head to see the flames burning brilliantly. Apollo knew the Outpost was under Legion control, so why would someone in their right mind dare attack it? He remembered the situation from only a few minutes ago, connecting the vague dots in his mind. "Couldn't be the same guy who did that, could it? Raiders aren't brave enough to try doing either feat. So, who could do this?" Apollo shook the puzzle from his head. The fire was likely to draw any nearby patrols to it, likely a set up for an ambush by whoever was pulling the strings. Apollo began to turn back around before he came to a realization. "The fire will be put out... most of the supplies surviving the blaze. The Legion patrols will likely leave only a few guards to monitor the Outpost while they get additional help. Incapacitate said guards and collect any salvage from the wreckage. Return to Nipton and wait out the Legion. They believe the town deserted, making it ideal. Would it be wise to try that?" Apollo felt his bag, feeling the eternal disappointment of low ammo and supplies. Taking a deep breath he turned back down the road and began walking, deciding that he would have to see more of Nipton than he had planned.