Introduction
It's been about 247 years since the bombs were dropped. The planet that we once knew and loved was destroyed. A crumbling civilization fought to survive, but it soon became evident that survival was no longer possible for those that weren't living in the underground world known as Pandora. Those who were able to escape the blasts are probably the only ones alive. There are rumors that people on the topside, those that weren't locked away in a vault, have started to undergo a gruesome change. Can you say... radiation poisoning? It has, without a doubt, altered the DNA structure within the human core. People are no longer people. Anyone who didn't seek refuge within an atomic structure or vault was screwed. They are no longer human. They want you. They want your flesh. Your blood. Your brains.
Most people would try to leave. But that might not be so smart. At least in Pandora you're safe. Right? Well, perhaps. But the outside world is more vast and you're likely to discover adventure topside. But the people of Pandora try to keep you below. They scare you with horrors and gruesome tales. Truth is... they might be lying....
The basics...
To be honest, you don't need to know anything about the series to play. In fact, it might make things... fun. However, if you want to brush up on your skills and such, I recommend that you Google Fallout 3 or Fallout: New Vegas. Just remember, this story is set in Texas, USA. More specifically, it'll be around the Dallas area. I, for one, am not from the area so I plan on getting myself nice and lost. But, don't you worry, there will be NPC Guides that will assist you along the way. And if you get lost, you can always shoot me a PM. In all honesty, I don't think it really matters how you get from point A to point B, so long as you get there and can kinda mention some details. Now you don't need to say you took a hard left at the tree with the dick on it. Just do what you can and have fun!
In the end, just remember that this is a survival game. Just know how to wield a gun and you'll do fine. Feel free to run into danger and, if you want, kill off your own character. You can always make another!
Dictionary of terms...
BLOOD -- A wasteland group of thugs. BLOOD uses human sacrifices for their program called KNIGHTHOOD. Most fail these experiments, but some have lived. Essentially, BLOOD injects your blood with a toxic virus that should kill you. If you magically survive, you're given two more series of this virus. If you live past all that, your blood was collected as you contained something called the DNA-V (DNA + the Virus) sequence. BLOOD worked on an anti-virus for future subjects. Essentially, this new anti-virus guaranteed higher survival rates. But why does this all matter? BLOOD sought to use their KNIGHTHOOD to form and army and storm the government.
BLOOD becomes the KNIGHTHOOD -- After successfully injecting wasteland humans with this anti-virus, they created a breed of super-humans whose bodies didn't require food or water to live. Sure, they needed the occasional nutritional supplement, but they could survive for months without water or food.
KNIGHTHOOD becomes the Knighthood of Blood (KoB) -- The KoB is still trying to overthrow the government of Texas. However, with each passing day the KoB begins to notice that perhaps Pandora is the issue. Pandora has been plaguing minds with these false lies above the over world. To prevent Pandora from purging all those on the topside, KoB converts their efforts to now destroy Pandora.
Knighthood of Blood GOD Program -- GOD is a six-year program that creates super-soldiers. Humans are ripped apart to have their limbs and organs replaced by metal or plastic parts. It's a gruesome product, but the yield is phenomenal.
Pandora -- The underground vault system of Texas. Pandora is ruled by a group of leaders called the Pan-D's. They are elites who believe the underground is the only place to live. They spread lies about the wasteland above and are trying to turn people against the humans who live in the wasteland. Rumor has it, Pandora is working on something that could change the world again (as a double secret, let's just say it's nuclear in nature and, if they launch the project, Texas will be leveled... again).
Texan Government -- Just as Pandora has its rulers, so does the wasteland. The Texan government leaders are called the Feds. These Feds are people who survived the nuclear fallout by surviving in a fallout shelter. These people are trying to rebuild life. They've faced much interfere with BoK, but as of late the BoK has been leaving the Feds alone. They fear what is really happening and hope that they can create something strong enough to prevent another nuclear fallout.
Enclave Red Ops -- These are the boys and girls that know the truth. They're the elite of the elite. They're the grandchildren of the pre-fallout days in the United States. They know what caused the war and they are simply looking to help maintain life until the next war. Although they don't trust the Knighthood of Blood, the ERO will not interfere with the KoB's operations. It's believed that, in time, the ERO will kill all KoB members and steal their research, gear, and information. There's no proof though. Just a bunch of rumors.
Sigma Institute -- A mysterious organisation descended from the Enclave rumored to exist in the distant north. Their forces are said to be fearless super-soldiers wielding the most advanced technology ever seen by mankind. If there is any truth to their existence, it remains yet to be seen; most Wastelanders simply treat them as a ghost story used to scare children who wish to explore the wastes.
Ghouls -- These are the poor folks who weren't able to find decent shelter. Exposure to the radiation has transformed them into a ghastly creature. Don't fear them though! They are still human in nature. They can think, love, and feel. Granted, they could still decide to eat you....
Other Fallout related stuff...
It is safe to say that you will need to reference the links in "The Rules" section when you're creating a character. But as after as everything else goes, you can use this guides (if you want). Weapons and armor -- in case you want to give yourself a Fallout look. Ammunition is going to be up to you. Don't have a MILLION shotgun shells, but don't always have one round left. It's up to you to determine how much you have. With regards to items, those will be given to you when stumbled upon. Let's say you open a desk. If you've got decent LUCK built into your character, you might find a Nuka-Cola. This will hold true to your abilities to heal, steal, etc. I'll let you be the judge of your capabilities. Just be realistic, okay?
Oh, and thanks to FalloutRomanae, we'll be adding a BONUS SKILL slot to our characters. A maximum of three BONUS SKILLS are allowed. Skills that could fall in here could include, but are not limited to, the arts, military skills, martial arts, entertaining, and/or anything else you can think up. The more creative, the better!
The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 14 authors
Bandit wasn't sure why, but tears were swelling up in her eyes at this point. Her chest was heavy and her heart was in her throat. Every thump-thump rung louder with each beat it made. Hands shaking and nerves on the fritz, the blond wanted nothing more than to feel Slasher's embrace. She was scared. No, petrified. She had made it three years without him, but it was on luck and luck alone. Every time she got in a pickle, someone was always there for her. Not once had she really done something herself. Not once had she been her own hero. Often, she left the saving up to someone else and she would just steal all the glory in the end for the partner would... well, tend to die.
She wouldn't let them live in vain, though. Bandit would speak stories of such great men, and women, who went through great lengths to save the world. She would rise these travelers up to be heroes. Well, sidekicks. Bandit wanted to be the hero of the tail. After all, with none of her old partners alive, save for Slash, who could call her out on her tales and antics.
Blinking back the fear that gripped her, the woman began to hear the darkest of words she had ever come to hear. Not once had she ever heard such vile things. Often people jeered her but none dared to cripple Slasher. No one ever dreamed of labeling him as this man did.
Each word of Terrence's whipped her and the lashes ripped open wounds that caused her smile to fall into an angry grimace. This man, how dare he call Slasher all those things. He knew nothing about the man. Each word the slipped off Terrence's tongue was nothing but a lie -- a false belief that this tribal man was throwing up to protect him from the truth.
She wanted to speak. Oh she wanted to chide him for his tongue. Hell, she wanted to cut off the man's tongue for speaking such heinous lies. Slasher was a doctor, of sorts, he saved more lives than he took. And every life he stripped away, it was for a valid, true and pure reason. The monsters at the town she came from, where they human? Were they sane? No. They were killers and Slasher killed them before they could kill her. The town before that? They can wandered across a refuge of wastelanders who were hiding from feral ghouls. A woman was in labor and Slasher helped save the baby, but at the cost of the mother's life. It was okay, though for the mother never would have lived past three more days. She was painfully ill and Slasher knew it just by looking at her. The baby, though motherless, could at least try to live on and would probably survive. To ensure its survival, Slasher husked all the ghouls and strung their skinless-corpses around the band of refugees as a way to scare off any ghouls that dared venture close to their hideaway.
Were his means twisted? Where they dark and grotesque? Yes and of course. But Slasher wasn't as bad a man as Terrence played him out to be. A burning fire lit from within her and she prayed, oh did she pray, that Terrence would find his ill-fated justice. The man deserved to burn due to his poisonous words about Slasher killing people.
Perhaps prior to her, Slasher had killed brothers, fathers, mothers, and daughters. But now? Now that Bandit righted his wrongs, the man would only kill those who were corrupt or evil. He would kill one if it would save at least two. It was the way she trained him. It was the way Bandit would allow the monstrous man to become her husband. He needed to stop the senseless murder and only do what was necessary to survive and help others to survive.
She had plugged her ears by now, deafening out Terrence's lies. "Tch, karma is a bitch. She will find you for your tyrannous lies," she murmured to herself. As her ears became free of her hands, Bandit caught the tale-end of Terrence's sentence. "How many did he greedily devour until you started to pretend it was norma- run."
Blue orbs picked up from the ash-gray ground she'd been staring at to lock on the ungodly sight before her. Her eyes jerked between the action. No matter how dark the cave was, it wasn't dark enough to hid the horrors that laid within. The wicked, sea-monster like tentacles that smashed with a thunderous boom as they slammed across the cavern walls, were enough to cause the woman to pull away lightly in shock. The air, now fresh with blood, wafted toward her. And, in that moment when Terrence's body melded with the ghoulish monster, a small smirk played on her features. The scream that followed? Oh, it only made her cackle with delight.
Goodbye, Terrence.
The setting changes from Texas, USA to Aegis
With a sigh, Lyki wondered why he was cursed with such ill-fate. His face, thought it could have been handsome, was riddle with scars caused by knives, wires, and whatever else that meshed into his skin and tore away his youthful beauty.
The moment he realized his sigh might be misunderstood, his head snapped back toward Brigitte. "That we do. But do you really think Aegis is where you want to spend your entire life?" He hand now propped up his head. "I've been a great many places. Aegis is nice. But is it really the first, last, and only place you want your eyes to see?"
"I have been here about a month now, gathering up my strength and relearning how to... how do you say it... move. I'm not as limber as you, my dear. Far older and been through far worse things. Why else would I wear a mask? I'm simply not pretty enough for this world. And yet, I have learned much about Aegis. Why," his coughing took over for a moment and he kindly sipped on the water she presented to him. "Why I do believe Aegis is the calm before the storm. It's too peaceful here to be true, especially in this war-torn era we are now trying to live through."
Lyki found himself smiling beneath the mask again. "Reason I stay?" He was really warming up to the girl, hence his chatty nature. "Because I don't want to go back out there... alone."
Lyki was one of those guests.
"I can see myself staying here," Brigitte drawled, glancing down at her glass as she swirled the whiskey along the inner rim. "I don't remember what it's like out there. I arrived here when I was 11... but all that is gone. Besides," she added, looking up and grinning broadly, "I love being at home!"
She took a sip of the whiskey, letting its smokey tones waft up into her nose. Gerryn was tending the bar tonight, and must have come across an incredible batch this week. "I sure hope you're wrong about that war bit, my friend. Believe me, this facility can withstand a lot." The very idea of the situation at Aegis spiraling into destruction was a little terrifying to her.
Brigitte looked down again at the table and shrugged her shoulders. "And that pretty stuff? Not pretty enough for the world, you said?" she asked, sipping again from her glass, "the world sure has a weird idea of 'pretty.' My experience is that it's not what's on the outside that counts. It's not what things look like that counts. It was things are that counts." She reached a hand behind her ear to coverly pat her scar, to reassure her that she did, in fact, possess true wisdom about the subject.
The setting changes from Aegis to Texas, USA
Null moved fast.
He hadn't been focusing, and he cursed himself for it. It had cost him precious seconds; he gave the psychological command to activate the GRX implant, but it was too late - the creature already had a hold of Terrence. The man screamed, but by then, the synthetic hyper-adrenaline was sweeping through Null's system, cutting off all emotion, heightening every sensation to its peak.
It was then that he saw the abomination in all its glory. An enormous monstrosity, as tall as the cave roof, a slithering mass of bleeding pustules and writhing elongated tongues, human arms scrabbling at the ground beneath it to drag its bloated weight forward. He could barely even tell where its maw began and ended, hundreds of twisted and distorted razor-edged teeth gnashing out of time with each other, massive insectoid tentacle-limbs tearing at the walls. Its skin was covered in cracked scabs hardened to form armour plates, some half-hanging off, revealing flayed, diseased skin underneath; bulges covered every inch of its horrific body, gigantic tumours that bled out acid liquids that steamed and smoked at its skin. Its face might have once been human, now grotesque and distorted in an endless scream; mixed in with the disgusting sound of the dripping beast slicking its way across the ground was a high-pitched, broken roar, human distorted by something that was fundamentally inhuman.
Gazing upon it was as though gazing upon something man was not meant to ever witness. Every time he looked at a component of it, his eyes were dragged elsewhere, to another horrific feature; he could not see it in its entirety, could not conceive of every single part of it. Nothing he had ever witnessed - Ghouls, Super Mutants, Centaurs, anything - came remotely close to the sheer existential terror he felt at gazing upon this entity. His heightened senses made every smell choking, every scream ear-splitting, every image in ultra-high-definition.
Bones snapped like gunfire as the abomination dragged Terrence into its gaping maw, and the man screamed again, louder this time. Null felt the tiniest twinge inside of him; like a distant knowledge that he had long forgotten, a ghost of a memory of a feeling. He ignored it. There was nothing he could do now.
He snapped his fingers at Frederica, the robot sitting at the mouth of the cave, and the lumbering beast of a machine started dutifully marching out of the cave, completely unwitting as to the nightmare it was escaping. Null felt the razor-edged tip of what looked to be a giant scorpion tail slash above him, slamming into the wall, showering him in dust; another slash grazed his shoulder as he leapt to the side, tearing off the left shoulder plate and upper bicep covering of his reinforced leather armour; the movement seemed effortless on the part of the beast, the creature wielding unimaginable strength at its beck and call; even full power armour might not be able to stand up to a blow from that thing.
Something wet and squishy splattered in front of him, and he felt his lighting-quick thought processes freeze for a second when he realised that it was a leg, blood spurting from it, tendons and shattered bone hanging loose from ragged flesh. He glanced behind him, seeing Terrence bleeding profusely and screaming horrifically as he desperately fumbled with a bottlecap mine; another tentacle slammed down on his solar plexus, and Terrence's scream changed pitch. Null's mind automatically narrated -
Left lung punctured; stomach crushed and burst. Left kidney crippled. Chances of survival - 15%. A second later, another strike to Terrence's right chest - Scapula shattered, all major left shoulder ligaments torn through, right lung crushed, heart received lethal impact shock. Chances of survival - 3%.
Then the entity bit down.
All major organs below upper chest critically damaged. Nervous system rendered inoperable. Skeleton crushed beyond use. Chances of survival -
Zero.
That was it. Without giving it another moment's hesitation, Null turned and just ran. He dropped his subcarbine, grasping Bandit by the back of her collar and dragging her away on instinct; she barely slowed him down, and he could swear he could hear her cackling. Glancing down at her, his mind denoted - Potential psychological break - investigate further. Rock shrapnel impact in left leg - non-serious. A monster he was, without question, but he was trained to never kill anyone if he didn't have to - if nothing else, it had the potential to lead to complications down the road. And he was not going to let anyone die like that. Well, almost no-one.
A tiny, distant, twisted part of him wondered if he could somehow bring one of those things up to Nova Scotia.
He rocketed out of the dark cave, emerging into the sandstorm; he didn't care in the slightest, just moving away as fast as he could. He caught up to Frederica, who was making a surprisingly decent pace - the repairs he and Terrence did must have held. Thinking back, he felt another tiny twinge inside of him.
He turned.
Within the dark mouth of the cave, Terrence was still screaming. Null pulled his sidearm from his holster, the whole world still in slow-motion because of the GRX flowing through his system, raising it slowly to eye-level. With cold eyes, his finger curled around the trigger.
At the last moment, through the haze of sand and the dark of the cave, he could swear he saw Terrence mouthing something -
"Tell Roland I said fuck you."
A single, booming gunshot later, and Terrence's screaming stopped.
Another few moments passed as Null turned and grabbed Bandit, looping one arm under her to support her and making a fast jog north-bound. He didn't care where he was going, not in the slightest, just so long as it was away from the cave. The lumbering machine somehow managed to keep pace next to them, trotting along happily, blissfully unaware of what had just transpired. He heard a blast behind them, followed by a massive crashing of stone - a glance confirmed that the cave had collapsed. He breathed a silent thanks to Terrence. Even in his final moments, the young man had managed to save Null and Bandit.
There was that twinge again.
Eventually, he ducked into a small recess in the ground, out of the wind and the sand; it was barely deep and wide enough to hold the two of them, but it would do. The GRX had long ago worn off, and he slumped against the wall, feeling completely drained, his left upper arm pulsing with pain; a glance confirmed blood dripping down it. He didn't care. He was alive, and momentarily safe. That was all that counted.
"Status," he said coldly and matter-of-factly to Bandit. He didn't care about being polite now. Didn't care about anything, except staying alive and breathing.
Terrence wasn't the only one to take heavy loses. As his life was peeled from him, Bandit witnessed her own life became nothing but a pile of dry ashes. The world she once saw as gray now became nothing but black and white. It was live or die. There was no middle ground. There was no need for happiness. There was no need for riches, rules, or rights. It was just life. Just living and surviving the cursed land they lived on and were forced to call home.
For a second, she almost thought about raising a gun to her own head. This bleak world was too much for any one woman to deal with. Everything was ripped from her. What she once loved was now something she feared. The freedom of stalking the wasteland became a lingering sickness that would never fade. She was petrified. How could she have been so naive. To trek across the desert all these years and not once come across something so horrific was beyond Bandit. Had her luck run out? Was this God's way of saying, "You've run your course, young Jessica, now it's time for all your bad karma to catch up to you." She gulped hard but found her mouth dry.
Dehydration does wonders on the body. Soon her mind was overlaying new illusions. The monster was no longer eating just Terrence. No, now it was gripping at her. Her leg throbbed as its million tongue-like antennae started to gnaw away at her leg. If she could find her voice, she would have screamed. But a hand seemed to be around her neck, forcing the life from her. Her screams never came and soon the hand became a pair of tentacles. Her mind was running wild with vivid imaginations. Her death clearly portrayed alongside Terrence's own demise.
Should she have held back her inner monologue? Those wicked wishes about Terrence dying and being a bastard. If she never said them... would she still be in the hands of this monster? Tear rolled down her cheeks. Hand raising up, she cleared them away. Now was not the time to cry. She still had a chance to live. As she pulled back her hands from her face, her baby blues caught something that pushed her over the edge. Blood. Blood on her hands. It came from her face.
Bandit began hyperventilating. Heart-beat spiking to a dangerous level, the woman was on the verge of wearing out her weathered heart. Great heaves of tears pulled the blood from her face and set the soiled liquid crashing onto the cavern floor. With each drop, the sound of a thunder boomed within her mind. Her senses were heightened and the noises killed her. She was literally dying and there was nothing to be done.
Suddenly the air was forced from her and Bandit's body went flying backwards. The illusion cracked and her eyes started to see through the fog that dehydration had crafted. Glancing down at her person, Bandit saw that she was relatively unharmed. Unstable, sure. Mentally-damaged, of course. But her body had no new wounds.
Wait, a pain tore at her brows. Touching just above her mask, she found a small slit in her head. It was jagged, probably caused by falling rock. Her neck ached too, thanks to the sudden jerk.
They stopped and Bandit fell face-forward into the sand. She coughed while Null took Terrence's misery away. His screaming stopped immediately after the crack of gunfire. Blinking, she zoned for a second. It was still too much to take in. She had suffered lose and been a part of great fights, but nothing compared to this moment. Hand reaching up, she tried to hold the cave in her hands. Just as she was about to pluck it from the ground, her body shot backwards again.
Null, of course.
She never said a word until the man finally slowed. Tucking themselves into a small pocket of 'clean' air, she huddled in closer to the male. What could she do? Keep her back exposed to the sandstorm? No, she needed to keep as close to him as she could or she would become nothing but dead weight to the man.
When Null shifted, Bandit quickly slapped his shoulder down. It was time she start looking out for him. with his uniform torn, the rough, abrasive sand from the storm could rip into his skin and cause all kinds of infections. Pressing down firmly, Bandit shot Null a scolding look. She was telling him, 'If you shift that shoulder, you're going to be sorry. Keep low and tucked. I'll let you know when it's safe to move again.'
The blond finagled her other hand around her backside, tugging lightly at a holster on her rear. It was a small pocket of sorts. With quick yank, she freed a handkerchief and carefully laid it over her face, as well as Nulls. It wasn't much, but it would keep the sand out of their eyes and noses. Having to hold it in place, Bandit gingerly snaked her hand down from Null's shoulder and onto his face.
He spoke and she drank in his words. His voice something she desperately needed to hear. It would replace Terrence's screaming and give her something else to latch onto.
"Thank you," she whispered. Her masked face shifted closer to his, keeping Null's nose just an inch from her own. "Aside from dehydration and this little smudge, I'm fine." The hand that held down the semi-transparent cloth glided over his face and cupped his jaw perfectly. "And you?" she breathed, her dry, smokey breath wafting over his features.
Null saved her life. He was bold and brave in the grave situation that transpired in the cave. He didn't falter and he wasn't selfish. He was a man worth looking up to and admiring. If he would allow her, once the storm passed, Bandit wanted to kiss him before give him a full-body examine. Odds were, he was going to need some patching up and she would be happy to oblige while tenderly kissing whatever wounds he acquired.
Null sighed for a second, not looking at her as she pressed herself around him, dutifully wrapping an arm around her slender form; he just gazed up at the red-brown sky, clouded out by crimson dust, and he exhaled, letting his body relax, the tension escaping it. That was a lot - too much, almost. He was still feeling the post-GRX impact, and it would be a few minutes yet until he was ready to keep moving. No matter - for now, he'd earned a moment's rest. She and he were alive. Better than expected under the circumstances.
She wrapped a handkerchief around both of their heads, keeping the sand from clawing at his eyes; he gave her a slight nod of thanks. She kept his shoulder down; he decided not to move it for the minute. Once the sandstorm subsided, he could take a closer look at the injury.
Her face was but millimetres from his, her warm breath over his face; the slightest twinge of comfort, an emotion he'd thought long lost to him, sparked within him; he paid it little notice. He didn't need it. He repeated that to himself a few times, just to make sure.
He stared into her blue eyes; the colour of the ocean on a sunny day. Her hand cupped his jaw as she thanked him; he kept his right arm wrapped tightly around her, comfortingly. There was fear in those eyes, horror at what she had witnessed. The brutality of that death had struck even him; he could not imagine what she would be feeling at this moment. What something like that could do to a human soul.
He pulled her a little closer, into something resembling - a hug? Was that what he'd heard it called? - his mouth right over her ear, his thick, muscular right arm holding her tightly. "It's okay," he whispered. "You're going to be okay."
Where did he learn that?! The question shot into his mind like a high-velocity round. Sigma operatives were not issued psychological training; the feelings were beaten out of them, and counselling was of no use to those who were already so thoroughly broken as to be able to kill and die without blinking. So where had he learnt to do this, to hold someone close and whisper comfort into their ear?
There was only one explanation. His heart constricted violently.
How would she feel? Would she care? Could she care? He'd entertained the idea of a second life often. Even if there was one, though, he wasn't going there. He'd heard a discussion of religion between a couple of Sigma scientists as a child, on his second or third year of training - discussing the next life. He'd asked them if, when he died, he was going to heaven, not knowing what that word meant until many years later, when he'd asked Anna about it.
Monster's don't go to heaven.
That was how they'd answered him, looking down at him with all the contempt in the world.
She deserved to enter the next life, no question of that - she had always been good, always been kind and pure. He was nothing more than a killing machine. He knew that he was doing the right thing - no question of that - but equally, he knew that on the inside, he was still a monster. This did not trouble him much.
But still, would she care, if she saw this? To take another this close? What did the girl - Bandit - think this was? What was going through her head at this moment? But he just kept talking, kept whispering comforts into her ear, promising that it was over and that the two of them were both okay. If nothing else, she was going to be more use to him alive than dead.
That was how he rationalised it to himself.
The setting changes from Texas, USA to Aegis
She turned around on her boots and stepped her way out of the tavern. She was greeted by a billow of wind, far less grittier than the wind that had swept over Aegis a few hours ago. The sandstorm headed toward Dallas must have been a strong one. She pulled her wrap close about her face, dropped her goggles around her eyes, and trudged forward into the town center, toward the Aegis staff apartments.
She pulled the door to her own unit open from the outside entrance, then shut it quickly to keep the sand from encroaching on the floor. She peeled her wrap off and placed it in a plastic bucket to collect any gathered dust, then pulled off her boots before locking the door.
As one of the Comms supervisors, her quarters were pretty nice, as far as they went. One large parlor with a kitchenette connected to a small bedroom. Most staff had a large room with a sleeping nook. She'd never slept very well in those things, anyway. Bonita, of course, had the best set-upโthe entire top floor of this building, bedecked with fine art and even a sort of air conditioning. Sometimes Brigitte would go visit the old woman for long stretches of time, sitting through her occasional prattling rant but so enjoying the cool air on her face.
Brigitte paced into her bedroom to strip down to her underwear as she turned on the bath. The desert had a way of making you absolutely filthy from head to toe in just a matter of seconds. As she let the large stone tub fill with warm water, she looked out of the high window with the clear stain, up toward the ceiling. The clouds had begun to settle and the stars were coming out.
Storms of that size always brought news. Something worth talking about, worth crafting into a warning for cautious travelers tuning in.
Brigitte wondered what tomorrow would bring.
For some odd reason, his mind raced to great rolling clouds that moved down a massive, erupting mountain. Pompeii, a story he'd heard about though he wasn't sure why, became the vision he had for Brigitte's death. She body preserved in the ghostly white ash from the eruption. Her innocence still in-tact and her heart never knowing the truth about man, about war.
How long had he been silently starting at her? He didn't know, but she seemed to pick up on the time and was sweeping away from him. Had he not been so stunned by it all, he might have waved. Instead, Lyki just blinked after the girl.
Gray skies roll down and put you to eternal rest. It was the dream he wanted to make a reality. He didn't know why, but Lyki felt compelled to watch over this girl. Too bad he didn't understand why. Knocking on his noggin, he hoped a memory would surface. Nothing came, but a small, childish laugh. It caused him to sit upright and question his past. Why was there a girl's giggle embedded in his mind.
Numbness washed over him like great waved brought on by a tsunami. Was it possible? Had Lyki, prior to losing his mind, been a... a father?
Even though Brigitte was long gone, Lyki's hollow eyes moved to where she once sat. Why was she suddenly of interest to him? Why was how she died worthy of playing out and, worse, making sure it was as peaceful as she needed?
Am I sick, he questioned. He rasped and give his limber body a quick pat down. No, he seemed fine. Raising his gaze to meet the door she left through, he let his dull eyes linger there. "We will meet again," he spoke aloud, mainly to himself.
Lyki then spent the rest of the night at the bar until closing time, which wasn't much later. He then trudged outside and into his little abode. He would spend his night awake and staring at the ceiling, mulling over all the information and feelings that had surfaced.
"I must be mad," he finally whispered before his eyes finally gave into the weight.
Brigitte's head hurt badly; she remembered a masked man (or was it a woman?), with blackened eyes and a gaping mouth, swinging the sharp hook down at her head. How it felt like burning when the razor-sharp edge caught behind her ear and nearly sliced her shoulder away from her arm. She allowed herself to fly several feet and crash her face into the hot dirt, lying as still as she possibly could. She breathed shallow and kept her eyes floating shut, relaxing as she bled into the dirt. A sharp booted toe scraped her back after most of the commotion settled. They were content that she was dead, from how heavily her body fell back into place. The noise stopped entirely about an hour later. Her eyes closed about two hours later.
When she opened her eyes next, she was laying in the back of a covered flatbed, her head resting in someone's lap. The dark indigo-purple skirt was soaked in the blood swishing from the back of her head. A woman with jet-black hair and frantic eyes looked down at her and spoke soundlessly. Brigitte's ears were full of noise, like a rushing river. The woman even stroked her brown hair, splayed down her back, long and straight.
Part of the rushing sound died after the engine was turned off. The woman tearfully handed the small girl to a young man with long arms. He called her
"Bonita." She called him "Pete." Brigitte's arms fell like heavy sandbags below her body.
The garage fell silent as the gathered staff watched Bonita panic. Pete pulled the girl from her arms and rushed her through several doors into a stark-white room. Brigitte could feel her stomach twist her body as she lay on the table. A sharp burn flew from her ears down to the middle of her back and she passed out again.
# # #
Brigitte snapped up, letting out an unsettled yell. The wind was howling outside again, and rattled a loose latch on her bedroom window. Some sand was even starting to sift in through the crack. She got up and hurried over with a bucket and a rag, her light blue crepe nightgown flying behind her. She bolted the window shut again and knelt down to scoop the sand into the bucket. She rubbed her hands together and resolved to sweep more of the mess in just a few hours.
She sighed, dragging her forearm across her eyebrow as she stood, trying to find the coolest spot in the apartment. shutting all the windows meant shutting in the heat during this time of year. She set herself down in the light armchair not far from the door to the outer room, staring at the clock. 3:30 a.m. Curfew hadn't even lifted yet.
It had been a long time since she dreamed about that day, so many years ago. She had forgotten that Bonita had reacted so emotionally to the incident; maybe that explained her behavior from earlier. And Pete was there, too. Come to think of it, Pete was always there.
Her heart filled with gratitude at the thought of it all. She was a sucker for accounting for things that were worth feeling grateful for. But at the moment she also rebuked herself for being so tough on Bonita, even going so far as to joke about the KoB and the Enclave. If she Brigitte had been someone else who said that to Bonita, the old woman would have had their hide. But not Brigitte.
She decided suddenly that going back to bed would be better than sitting out in the distracting living room. She walked back to her bed and flipped her pillow over. It was just a dream. Nothing to worry about. She kept repeating it to herself as she slowly drifted back off.
The setting changes from Aegis to Texas, USA
The blush on her cheeks was fleeting. There would be no passionate nor tender kisses. There would be nothing but silence and a lack of space between their bodies. As much as she cursed the wasteland, she also thanked it. It allowed her to get close enough to the man to really study him. His uniform was so unique; it was unlike anything her hands had ever touched before. Reinforced, compression leather? She wasn't sure what it was, but whatever it was, it looked nice on him. It really complimented his build and his face.
How awkward could she be? She was staring at his face and tracing his lips with her eyes. His eyes, ugh, they made her body squirm. She kicked herself lightly to get her mind off of the visions she played with in her mind. The thought on mounting him as soon as the storm died. The thought of pulling his lip up with a light bite before shoving her tongue against his. The thought of striping him of his clothes while wringing her hands impatiently as he undressed her. The thought of letting her tongue tease his neck to his navel. His strength, she flitted her lashes at the thought of his strength. He had to be crawling with muscles beneath his outfit. How else would he have drag-carried her to here? How else could he trek from the far northeast to Texas?
It was a bad impulse, but her hand found itself moving down toward his goods. She just had to know, was he feeling anything? Was he remotely interested in her? Only, before she could move her hand any further, his gaze caught hers. She was scaring again, this time purposely. Had he known what she was up to? Was he onto her movements?
Cussing inwardly, she wished she had started her true name. Bandit, tch, who could trust a woman with a name like that? Null was probably suspicious of her, thinking that she was after his armor, his guns, and his machine. She wasn't, honestly she wasn't. She just wanted his company. Okay, so maybe she wanted his passion, too, but she wouldn't force that. If he refused a kiss, she wouldn't push further. She knew the dangers of making a man do something he didn't want. Often led to a lot of fear and screaming.
"Looks like the storm will be over soon," she cooed lightly.
Bandit hated to admit it, but she really wished the storm would never end. God what she would give to stay tucked up against his warm, dreamy body for the rest of her life. He was so warm. So very warm.
Tears came to her eyes, was this all really going to end? Yes, of course. Nothing good lasted forever.
Null watched Bandit as she shifted in his embrace, as the tearing wind howled overhead. She pressed her small, lithe body against him, craving for more warmth. He allowed her it. That was what he told himself he was doing, at least - that was how he rationalised everything to himself. He was an innocent party in this. None of this was done with his consent.
No, lies, all of it. He was enjoying this, on some twisted level. He didn't understand why - he'd long thought himself past that. The moment she died, he'd abandoned all humanity - he had no further use for it. Feelings would get him no-where, warmth and comfort never granting him any power; only hatred could give him strength, and so he hated aplenty. Hated himself for failing to protect Anna. Hated the world for being such a monstrous place. Hated Sigma for all their infinite crimes. Hated the girl in his arms for forcing herself upon him.
Hate was all he had, and he relished in it.
"Looks like the storm will be over soon," she said to him quietly, before against resting her cheek against his collarbone. He glanced down at her, trying to keep his eyes from appearing too cold. What did she think of him? What did she want from him? He didn't know, didn't understand her, didn't care. He just knew that he didn't trust her. She had lain with the madman Terrence had spoken of. No, definitely not to be trusted.
But oh, she was beautiful...
Images flashed through his mind without his will or consent. Of bare skin against his, warm and needing, of pressing a body against his, consumed in his grasp, of soft lips pressed against his, of movement and friction and ravenous desire. Of tearing those fragile clothes from her form, of watching the desire on her face mixed with the slightest dash of fear, of taking her there upon the ground. Animal things, horrifying things, things that should never enter his mind, things that he could not understand or comprehend. Things he had near-never felt before, things worse than the monstrosity that had so recently slain their companion because they were within him, because no matter what, he couldn't escape those desires-
A second later, his lips ceased to be pressed to hers, his eyes wide with shock and sensation and horror and excitement.
He could only sit there, staring at her as though her azure eyes were the gates of Hell itself, in mute horror - not at her, but at what he had done, at the invasive violence of his own action.
For a moment, he could swear that she had dark hair.
The setting changes from Texas, USA to Aegis
Just inside the metal wall protecting the settlement of Aegis layed the regal-colored giant, a mutant by the name of Roland Brave. Underneath the temporary roofing that protected his makeshift smithy was him and the entirety of his belongings; weapons and tools collected over a long history of both bloodshed and madness. How he had loved those days, how he regretted them.
A Flamer, modified to create a smaller, hotter flame, laid unlit next to a makeshift forge constructed from cinder blocks to keep in the heat and charcoal to maintain it. Tools lay atop a small table next to a stool, both beside a makeshift anvil created from a piece of steel I-beam. At Roland's feet lay his poncho and hat, folded neatly and as cleanly as allowed by the dirt ground of the wastes. Nearby lay his bag, inside which held the minutia required by his day to day activities. On top layed his riot shotgun, a weapon nearly as old as himself and similarly labeled. "Mariposa" was stamped on it's barrel, specially crafted long ago for a mad man's war that never came thanks to the work of chosen warriors. Near that, leaning against one pole of the makeshift roof, laid a Nuke Breaker. So named for it's prior nature as a neon sign advertising Nuka-Cola, Roland had since removed the broken bulbs and welded silver lettering to say 'Bite Me' as a replacement and filled the interior with Scrap Metal to create a rattle fit for giant's infant.
As dawn approached Roland stayed blissfully asleep in ignorance of the coming light. He would not awaken until alerted by his cohorts in manual labor, other workers from Aegis allowed to sleep closer to the center of town if only because of their less monstrous appearance. He did not blame the distrust but still preferred the use of a good bed-spring mattress to only a bit of thick rug between him and hard ground.
Sleeping, Roland dreamed of unkind visions and creatures much more frightening than he. Of a friend now dead and new faces with sorrowful madness behind their eyes. He shivered, loosening his grip on the Molerat imprisoned in his unconscious state. Sensing the moment, the Molerat lunged forward and escaped, running out the hole in the fence from whence it came. It would no longer trust large, purple, snoring forms for as long as it would live.
She propped herself up and squeezed her eyes shut as she yawned, stretching her arms above her head. She stepped up and quickly pulled herself out of bed, and slowly paced barefoot from her bedroom through the outer room and to her door. She twisted the knob open and peeked her head out so that whatever guest it was wouldn't see her sleeping attire. On the other side stood Bonita. Brigitte stood up a little straighter. "Oh... good morning, I'm sorry about that," she said after coughing a little.
"Don't worry," Bonita said quickly, "it's about 7. Way early for you. But we need your help. That sandstorm last night sure was a doozy."
Brigitte nodded. "Sure was," she managed through a misty-eyed yawn. "It opened my window and everything."
"Well, it also knocked down one of our solar panels," Bonita continued. "People coming in today after the storm say they've never heard Peter have to shout to be heard over the background noise."
Brigitte balked. "Seriously? That sucks," she said quietly, looking down at the ground. She looked back up to the older woman and tilted her head. "What can I do to help?"
"Get dressed and we'll talk about it," Bonita instructed as she backed away from the door. "Peter's still on the air. Freya's already down there. She's in better shape to help than he is. We're just letting him continue talking." She walked off and left Brigitte to shut the door behind her as she went to pull on a pair of dark all-weather pants and a pair of leather boots, her blue lightweight long-sleeved shirt, and her utility belt. She pulled her hair behind her and crudely braided it into a long, thick plait, then looped her goggles around her eyes before finally stepping out the door and pulling it shut behind her, then coasted through the stone hallway and out into the early morning sunshine.
The courtyard was trashed. A few of the staff were out with heavy pushbrooms trying to clear the walkways of the high level of sand that had swirled into the pseudo-square in the middle of the facility's grounds. The tall radio tower didn't look worse for wear on the outside, but she knew that whatever damage it had done to their sensitive instruments was going to be the impact felt for miles and miles around. They'd have to send a group out to Austin, likely, in order to replace any broken parts. And Austin was a terribly partisan place. There was no way of knowing if they'd be receptive to Aegis folk trying to improve their lot in life in any fashion whatsoever.
"Brigitte!" Bonita called out. Her brown eyes snapped up in her direction--there they were, on the roof of the massive stone structure. "Climb up!"
Brigitte frowned as she looked at the indicated ladder splaying up the side of the tall wall, but grabbed the sides anyway and forced herself to step up, one rung at a time. She hated heights. It wasn't uncommon for her to visualize herself losing her footing from a higher unsecured surface... she never could get around to imagining the end of a fall, but the prospect of the fall itself was daunting and terrifying. Even so, she refused to let it dampen her concentration. She stepped on the top of the roof and spotted the downed panel, its frame twisted but mercifully not destroying the darker material encased inside. Bonita, Freya, and a few of the others gathered turned around to face Brigitte.
"You need to ask the Nightkin to come help us," Bonita stated plainly, looking the younger woman directly in the eyes.
Brigitte blinked. "Oh," she said, the awkward air twisting the end of her sentence into a higher-pitched, pseudo-question tone. "But why me?"
Freya shook her head. "Brig, everyone likes you," the tall blonde woman responded. "I'm sure if you ask the Nightkin that he'll be sure to help us."
"But he's already helping us," Brigitte pointed out, putting her gloved hands on her hips. She lifted her goggles up to rest on top of her forehead. Her brown eyes squinted and blinked against the early morning sun. "I don't think we should make it look like we wish to abuse his assistance."
"Brigitte, please," Bonita said softly, invoking a tone that made it hard for Brigitte to ignore those instructions.
The wiry brunette sighed, and reached her hands up to yank and stick the goggles back securely over her eyes. She turned around and felt her stomach twist a little as she descended back down the ladder. After reaching the ground, she shook off her shaky nerves as she made her way to the spot where by far the most formidable guest in Aegis had opted to stay.
She walked cautiously, deciding to keep the goggles over her eyes for the time being. She finally stopped and stood not far from the shelter, folding her arms in front of her. She looked down at her feet and then decided to let her arms fall by her side, as to appear less frustrated or conflicted. It was never easy to decide how to use body language in order to be taken seriously when one lacks the height to be automatically taken seriously.
"Good morning," Brigitte called out calmly. Not in a high-pitched voice, but not in a stern, detached voice, either. "I'd like to ask you for your help this morning, Mr. Brave. My name's Brigitte."
The small voice, a nervous note somewhere within the words, caught Roland off guard between sending a refurbished panel to the working crew and waiting for a ground panel from Burt. Moving the smoked lensed goggles from his eyes, protective equipment readjusted with new strapping to afford for his Nightkin ergonomics, he looked in her direction and motioned for Burt to cease his grinding.
"Say again, young miss?" The ever-present throaty growl of a Nightkin's weak voice box perverted his syllables. His mutation, focused around stealth, made it difficult for his breed to speak out loud and caused every sound uttered to be a grinding rumble. During the war, it had been a blessing. After decades, it proved to be a nuisance among human company when he worked alongside them.
"Bonita already has me on a job. Did she sign off on this or is she going to be waiting here when I get back to put a boot in my ass?" Burt and the others laughed, the mental image of their elderly leader going toe to toe with Roland's hulking form. It made Roland feel better; the entire crew had been nervous around him for the past few days since he had been assigned to work with them in exchange for sanctuary. 'About time I finally broke the ice.'
"Of course... a nervous fawn like you isn't going to bother asking me for help unless Bonita's the one who put you up to it in the first place, right?" Roland looked to Burt who nodded in agreement. He had been around much longer and knew the politics of the town better than Roland possibly could. With a shrug of the shoulders the Nightkin stood in that slightly hunched way of a Super Mutant and walked towards the radio tower.
"Don't touch the dials on the Flamer," he yelled back to the crew. "You might explode."
She pulled her small hand-held radio off of her belt after it blipped. She flicked a red switch and allowed Bonita's voice to resonate from the unit. "I guess it depends on what pair of boots I'd decide to wear, Mr. Brave," the woman said dryly. "Better pray I'd not use the snakeskin ones. But that's not what we're talking about, here. Ms. Thibodeaux would love to escort you on your way up here. Can you climb a ladder?"
Brigitte looked at Roland and shrugged, shutting her eyes and tilting her head at Bonita's unique manner.
"Can you climb a ladder?" Roland laughed in his throat, memories of ruined constructs failing to take his massive weight returning to him.
"A ladder? Hmm...." Roland stopped for a moment, pursing his lips in thought. "Young miss," he spoke to the radio, "I'm almost eight feet tall and damn near eight-hundred pounds. My foot is wider than most humans' heads. I'd worry more about the ladder myself, but I can try." He shrugged, looking at Brigitte in a 'what can I do about it?' kind of way.
"Pardon," he spoke to both the radio and Brigitte herself, "but I assumed that my help was needed to bring the contraption down to ground level. If you could already do that with another work crew, then would it be foolish to instead assume that your calling upon me to fix the frame itself?" 'Why trust me with something that important when she has other technicians to do the same?' The Nightkin's eyes looked to Brigette, an expression somewhere between worry and confusion on his countenance.
"Just how bad is the damage to the equipment, miss... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name while Burt was grinding."
She gestured toward the talk radio tower. The angle of their view prevented them from seeing the small group of people bustling about up top. She briefly switched off the radio and walked a few paces closer to Roland. "It's in pretty bad shape. Bonita immediately sent me to find you to help. She seems to think you're the best qualified here to do the job."
"Maybe, but even then I've only been here for...." Roland counted on his hand, uncurling the thick digits one by one. He had no mind for time, dates, or history, prompting him to instead count the days he had been working on the fence repairs.
"A week." he laughed reservedly. "I wasn't even sure your people were going to let me in when I first arrived and now I'm called in to fix an important piece of equipment." He rubbed his scalp, thinking on Bonita's unexpected behavior. He was silent for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and looking to the radio tower.
"Very well then. If this is a test, I might as well take it. Miss Brigitte, I'll need a workshop with a closing door to keep out the sand and an assistant to help remove the electrics from the casing. If Bonita will oblige, I'll come to the radio tower right away."
View All »Arcs
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Welcome home, Promethean. Here, you can manage your universe.
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Arcs are bundles of posts from any location, allowing you to easily capture sub-plots which might be spread out across multiple locations.
Add Quest » Quests
You can create Quests with various rewards, encouraging your players to engage with specific plot lines.
Add Setting » 18 Settings for your players to play in
Settings are the backdrop for the characters in your universe, giving meaning and context to their existence. By creating a number of well-written locations, you can organize your universe into areas and regions.
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While not required, locations can be organized onto a map. More information soon!
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By creating Collectibles, you can reward your players with unique items that accentuate their character sheets.
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(case-sensitive, as usual) — this can be followed with /take Item Name
to retrieve the item into the current character's inventory.
Mobs
Give your Universe life by adding a Mob, which are auto-replenishing NPCs your players can interact with. Useful for some quick hack-and-slash fun!
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View All » Add Character » 29 Characters to follow in this universe
Newest
Colonel Cain
"That which exists without my knowledge, exists without my consent."
Isaiah Shadrach "Sherman"
"... come with me."
Cross Connor
"Choices. I had one. I made it."
Bonita Abbott
"You know the rules. Abide by them, or get out."
"Red Eyes"
[WIP] Still working on a few sections.
Roland Brave
Nightkin, Blacksmith, Accidental Mystic
Soluna
IGNORE BY THE HOLY ORDER OF GOD-EMPEROR ZERO
Turquine "Lyki" Jervis
Man is mortal. I, monster, am capable of greater feats. Perhaps I can be the change this world needs....
Brigitte Thibodeaux
"Tell me a story. Tell me about you. I want to know where you come from and where you're going."
Null
"It's not a question of who is going to let me. It's a question of who is going to stop me."
Trending
Mary-Ann Cassidy
Abandoned -- Ignore
Ameratzu Hitori
Abandoned -- Ignore
Brigitte Thibodeaux
"Tell me a story. Tell me about you. I want to know where you come from and where you're going."
Bandit
"I have a shotgun, two pistols, a whip, and several bladed weapons. Pick your poison."
Null
"It's not a question of who is going to let me. It's a question of who is going to stop me."
Bonita Abbott
"You know the rules. Abide by them, or get out."
Soluna
IGNORE BY THE HOLY ORDER OF GOD-EMPEROR ZERO
Roland Brave
Nightkin, Blacksmith, Accidental Mystic
Colonel Cain
"That which exists without my knowledge, exists without my consent."
Most Followed
Scarlette
Abandoned -- Ignore
Soluna
IGNORE BY THE HOLY ORDER OF GOD-EMPEROR ZERO
Roland Brave
Nightkin, Blacksmith, Accidental Mystic
Josephine "Jo" LaRoche
Abandoned -- Ignore
Brigitte Thibodeaux
"Tell me a story. Tell me about you. I want to know where you come from and where you're going."
Scott O'Mally
Abandoned -- Ignore
Ameratzu Hitori
Abandoned -- Ignore
Slasher
"Need repairing? I can help... <Mutters> ...so long as you don't mind losing a few organs."
Bandit
"I have a shotgun, two pistols, a whip, and several bladed weapons. Pick your poison."
View All » Places
56 posts · 5 characters present · last post 2014-10-08 02:53:55 »
Texas, USA Owner: Xavirne
Where our nightmare takes place....
82 posts · 9 characters present · last post 2014-10-06 20:03:36 »
Texas, USA ↪ Aegis Owner: Xavirne
The rules are simple, 1) No harming anyone, unless you're defending yourself; 2) No politicking; 3) Be polite; 4) Abide by the curfew -- nobody in or out between the hours of 11 p.m. and 5 a.m.; and 5) Rest.
2 posts · 4 characters present · last post 2014-06-20 04:53:48 »
Eastern Dallas Area ↪ Nuclear Fallout Shelter Owner: RolePlayGateway
Located in what used to be the Dallas Hospital.
1 posts · 2 characters present · last post 2014-05-10 16:11:13 »
Texas, USA ↪ Dallas Area Metro Stations Owner: RolePlayGateway
The subway station that connects just about all of the Dallas Area.
1 posts · 1 characters present · last post 2014-04-16 13:27:26 »
Fort Lipantitlan (near Mathis) is the headquarters from the Knighthood of Blood.
58 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2014-04-08 23:03:54 »
Southern Dallas Area ↪ Ceder Crest Ridge Owner: RolePlayGateway
It's rumored that Super Mutants roam here.
1 posts · 0 characters present · last post 2014-04-07 01:30:39 »
Eastern Dallas Area ↪ Garland Bridge Owner: RolePlayGateway
Traders from all over Texas come here to show off their swag. A national broadcasting station can be picked up here -- ANN (American News Network).
3 posts · 3 characters present · last post 2014-04-07 01:23:25 »
Southern Dallas Area ↪ College Park Owner: RolePlayGateway
Overrun by feral ghouls, but it's said to house something of importance.
6 posts · 1 characters present · last post 2012-02-03 23:29:06 »
Southern Dallas Area ↪ Overton City Owner: RolePlayGateway
Home to one of the broadcasting sites -- O Radio.
10 posts · 1 characters present · last post 2012-01-23 22:02:56 »
Eastern Dallas Area ↪ Lemmon City Owner: RolePlayGateway
Your home away from home.
2 posts · 1 characters present · last post 2011-12-30 20:03:59 »
Eastern Dallas Area ↪ Gaston City Owner: RolePlayGateway
An abandoned city. But, for some odd reason, a radio station still plays out of this area -- 13V Radio.
0 posts · 1 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Despite the fallout, Austin is still in-tact and doing pretty well. Austin is the main headquarters for the Texan Federal Government and the Enclave Red Ops (ERO).
0 posts · 1 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Amarillo is swarming with elitist thugs. Although this place is full of humans, these are not the kind of men you want to mess with.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Southern Dallas Area ↪ Moore Town Owner: RolePlayGateway
A small group of humans live here.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Eastern Dallas Area ↪ Vault 013 Region Owner: RolePlayGateway
Bitches locked me out....
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Eastern Dallas Area ↪ Shadyside Owner: RolePlayGateway
Do yourself a favor and steer clear of here.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Texas, USA ↪ Eastern Dallas Area Owner: RolePlayGateway
The eastern portion of Dallas.
0 posts · 0 characters present · last post 1970-01-01 00:00:00 »
Texas, USA ↪ Southern Dallas Area Owner: RolePlayGateway
The southern portion of Dallas.
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Fallout: RT || The GM's Guide to Playing
by Xavirne on Thu Dec 29, 2011 12:30 pm
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on Thu Dec 29, 2011 1:04 pm
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Fallout: RT || The GM's Guide to Playing
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