Fallout

Fallout

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After a nuclear holocaust leaves the world in shambles, the citizens try to pick up their lives, living on scarce resources, living in hope that they will one day be saved from this nightmare.

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Introduction

The world we used to know is at an end........

The year was 2077.
After the Great War, the world receded into an empty, barren wasteland full of weary survivors and ruthless killers.
The nuclear holocaust of the Great War cost the Earth it's once beautiful scenery, and trillions upon trillions of humans their lives. Many cities, many civilizations were wiped out by the nuclear bombs. Those who found shelter in the Vaults survived, living underground until it became safe enough to venture back to the surface. People began inhabiting the surface again, building shanty towns out of whatever materials weren't decimated by the nuclear blasts. They began repopulating, building, growing, trying to restore what was lost to the war.
However, it wasn't going to be easy.......

Cities were leveled; only a fraction of the buildings that stood tall before the land and it's people remained standing now. Entire countries were devastated, left with only the grim memory of their once precious lands, now forced to bear witness to their ruined homelands. Many were dead, their bodies now mixed with the dust on the ground. The air and water were extremely toxic, filled with radiation and dangerous to consume. In order for the humans to rebuild, they'd need to all work together and pull through. Howeer, this task in itself proved to be most difficult:
Many people turned to raiding, killing and stealing from other people. Whole towns were raided, raped of their supplies and many were either killed or forced into slavery. As if this weren't enough, the survivin population also had to deal with various mutated monsters; insects, animals, mutants.........it was enough to devastate anyone. Frequent monster attacks, raids, and shortage of supplies forced the people to struggle.
They looked toward the future, hoping for some order in the lawless Wastelands.

2279
Former Los Angeles:
Image

It's been two hundred and two years since then, and humanity is still quite unstable. They do have some stability, however. There are several towns and cities built across the nation, and the population is growing. They have established a currency system, bottle caps, in order to buy the various items they might need.
However, suffering still plays a prominent role in the wakes of the future. Supplies are extremely scarce and often rationed, there is hardly a clean water source if any at all, and sicknesses are spreading with difficulty to alleviate them. And it's only getting worse:
Ever since the aftermath of the war, the United States has been under control of the Enclave, a shadow government based on the original United States government. Their main concern is to eradicate Communism, and care not who suffers in the process of achieving this mission. They believe in only letting the strongest survive, and see the weak as useless in society. Utilizing radio waves, the Enclave attempts to brainwash all survivors into believing that they will resolve all their problems. They are everywhere.

In order to survive this hellish life, one must be strong, intelligent, and sharp-witted. Those who falter, die.
Where do you stand?

//NOTE//
For simplicity, the primary statistics system S.P.E.C.I.A.L. will not be used to determine abilities.

//CHARACTER BIOS//
//Description//
Name:
Age:
Sex:
Race:
Species: (Human, Ghoul, Mutant, Vampire)
Weight:
Height:
Appearance: (pics are acceptable)
Marital status:
Strongest statistic: (see S.P.E.C.I.A.L. in wiki)
Weakest statistic:
Specific physical traits:

//Personality//
Personality:
Attitude towards others:
Pros:
Cons:
Overall Demeanor: (good, neutral, evil, very evil)
Orientation:
Habit(s):
Addiction(s): (if any)
Faction: (see "Factions" in wiki)
Occupation:
Perks: (see "Perks" in wiki; limit 6 and describe their uses)
Theme song:

//Equipment//
Weapon(s):
Supplies:
Apperal: (pic or description)

//History//
Birthplace:
Place of residence:
Background:

Toggle Rules

0. Commit. Don't join and drop out.
1. No godmoding.
2. Be literate. Self explanitory.
3. Be detailed in your posts.
4. This is a Fallout RP, so stay withing the Fallout universe.
5. Don't troll.
6. Have fun.

The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 11 authors

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#, as written by Guest
The Ranger drifted into town, looking at all the passers-by. He scoffed at their cheery smiles and "Welcome friend"s. He didn't care too much for these people. He protected them, that was about as much affection they would recieve from him. The dried up, sandy ground crunched beneath his western-style boots. The sloppy architecture of the buildings irritated him for an unknown reason. They always did. He had been here before, and knew exactly where he was headed. He was taking his caps and drowning himself in his miseries. He grew tired of sober thought, because it was rational and actually meant something, made him remember the shittiness of his life. Sure, the pay for headhunting was good, but his life still got the shit-end of everything: he had no home, no family, and no friends. There was no one to take him in, and he had a tendency to piss people off with his shut-out personality. He had but one hope that kept him from putting a .44 round in his head: maybe, just maybe, they'd invent a stronger whiskey.
He was headed for the saloon at the end of town in order to piss away what little money he had in order (or at least try) to get smashed, shit-faced, hammered, drunk off his ass, blitzed, destroyed, piss drunk, loaded, juiced up, plastered, obliterated, or any other synonym for drunk there is. He kept his eyes low and his hat pulled down. He made no eye contact, he just headed for his drink fest.
He arrived at the saloon, looking around at the familiar and new faces. He took a seat and waited for Calamity to walk over. "The usual, Ranger?" the tall, burly, hairy red-headed woman asked him. The Ranger nodded, slapping down ten caps on the counter as calamity practically shoved the whiskey bottle into his hand. He eyed the bronze-colored liquid before draining the bottle within seconds. "Hit me", he said as Calamity turned back to the booze shelf. "You keep this up and I'm gonna be down a customer", Calamity laughed. The Ranger snarled. "Shut your hole you sow and gimme my goddamn drink!" he said irritatedly, slapping down another ten caps. He drained that bottle, too, and turned in his stool to look at the crowd behind him: A group of raiders was huddled in the corner, and The Ranger saw one in particular that every Regulator in the wastes was looking for: Bethany Grier. "Bethany" was actually in fact a man, given the name as a cruel trick from his son-of-a-bitch father. He was a muscular guy, bald, and quite petite to be the evil little shit he is. Twenty-seven years old and full of nothing but contempt for everything. The Ranger stood, walking over toward where Bethany sat, smirking at the name all the while.

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Micheal's power armor felt slightly comfortable on him, as it bought him a large amount of reassurance. He was going to need it greatly for his current environment. He walked through a small settlement snugly situated within the vicinity of L.A. Micheal calmly walked through the main gates, and into the medium sized shanty town. Micheal felt the gaze of two armed men burning into his back, as he walked past them slowly. His imposing structure, and armor would both cause him as much trouble as it would save him the hassle of certain wastelanders. Though there were groups of people, irrational people that felt it necessary to pick fights with men that were bigger than them, or people that simply harbored a grudge against the brotherhood would hamper his progress.

Micheals power armor rustled ever so slightly every time he took another step. Sometimes more unwise men would be ready to start trouble, but would stop before they saw Micheal's sheer size, and the types of weapons he was packing. Micheal's large mini-gun sat ever so menacingly as Micheal kept his hand on his hammer strapped to the left side of his hip. He walked quietly through the main walkways until his eyes rested on the Saloon. No one could see it, but Micheal had a small ghost of a smile on his face. A continuous flow of information flowed through saloons in any settlement within the wastes. Micheal had received a tip a few weeks ago that his target had come this way. He just hoped he could find her soon. Failure seemed to be looming over his shoulder whenever he looked back at the path he burned across the wastelands of North America.

Micheal's hand gripped his Super Sledge as he stepped through the door into the saloon. The blue streaks on Micheal's armor set him apart of nearly any uniform Brother Hood paladin, he just hoped that most would infer he wasn't looking for trouble. He would be in this shanty town for only a day or so, as he scoured the land for traces of his objective. Silence filled the air when Micheal entered. Silence was never a good sign. Micheal approached the bar, and sat down slowly. He met no gazes, which slowly resulted into mostly everyone going back to their conversations. Micheal let out a quiet breath, and squared his massive shoulders, which were evident even under his armor.

He decided he would rest his feet for a bit before he started asking around. He had been walking nearly the whole day, and he needed to refill his canteen. He always wanted bottles of clean water in his possession at all times in case of emergency. He would need it for the traveling he would be doing, so he established getting more water on top of refilling his canteen would be a safe and good idea.

The setting changes from Ground Zero to Los Angeles Wastelands

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Ethan adjusted his black hat to block the sun from getting in his eyes. He looked around at the ruined bombed out buildings of the los angeles waste land. He pulled on the bag he carried, he was on his way to a saloon to deliver the barkeep a chineese assault rifle he fixed. He hoped to pick up another job while he was there. He felt for his sniper rifle on his back. It was there, he grinned at his stupidity, of course it would be. In addition to the long range rifle, a .44 magnum, Assualt rifle and crowbar were hanging off his Lightweight Ranger armor. He Felt some thing interesting was going to happen and it was about time, he had gotten bored of the wasteland, it was getting a bit too routine even the unpredictable was predictable, he had half a mind to go start messing with the slavers. He reached inside one of the compartments on his chest, he pulled out a small round gold coin. He flipped it in his hand, on the coin was engraved: "strength, honor, loyalty" on one side and a sergeants stripes on the other. It wasn't a coin to him, it was his father's Emblem, and no amount of caps would take it from his hands.
So with his job in a pack behind him he headed down a destroyed road, the sun on his back, he hated the sun, made him stand out too much.

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#, as written by Guest
The Ranger slammed his hands down on the table, belching as the gases in his stomach turned from the whiskey. He wiped his mouth and stared Bethany in the eye. "How ya doin' there Beth?" he said rather pompously, "Holdin' up okay out here?" The Ranger's grin was enough to put Bethany into an annoyance. "You need somethin' pal? 'Cause if you're lookin' for an ass kickin', you came to the right place". Bethany's scratchy voice contained a tone of anger and irritation. The Ranger just stared at him. "You should know.......burp-at I'm here for". The grin flashed once more, and Bethany began to wring the hem of his leather jacket. "Look buddy, I got no idea who you are, but if you wanna live, I suggest you w-HMPH!".
The Ranger jammed his left .44 in Bethany's mouth, pointing the right one at his three cronies. Blood began to seep from Bethany's mouth from the teeth The Ranger knocked out with the barrel of his revolver. "Sorry, sweetheart, but I'll have to take a raincheck. Say hi to all the people you killed when you get to Hell".
A loud BOOM, people scattered, Calamity ducked behind the bar, and The Ranger jumped backward, knocking over a table and taking cover. Three guns were firing at him from ahead: a hunting rifle, a shotgun, and a .32 pistol. The Ranger had been in higher levels of shit than this, pumped with more whiskey than he was now, and still came out alive. He watched as the people scattered to get out of the saloon alive, and as bullets that missed the table ripped up the floors.
He sighed, standing and whipping around to face the three shooters.
Bang, bang, bang!
It was over.

The setting changes from Los Angeles Wastelands to Ground Zero

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Ethan had almost broken into a run when he heard the sound of gunshots coming from his destination. "What the hell am I doing?" He asked himself, as he pulled out his .44 magnum and slammed his back against the wall next to the door way. "Oh yeah I'm bored and a gunfight could be interesting" He answered, When the sounds of shooting paused he kicked the door open and slid quickly inside aiming his gun and scanning the room. To his dissapointment all he saw was a man put two .44 magnums into their holsters and three slavers lying dead on the floor. "Dammit!" He said out loud and placed the gun in the holster. He sat on a barstool and threw the bag on the table. "Hey barkeep got your gun here all fixed up."

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Woken by the ringing of nearby gunshots, Demo rolls out of his bed and grabs one of his sawed-off shotguns and points it at the door. "Come on assholes." After a few seconds pass he realized that the shots have stop. "What the hell just happened?" he thought "Better yet, WHO THE FUCK WOKE ME UP!" While putting on his talon merc armor he straped his grenades and mines onto his belts, packed up his supplies, then he pulled both of his ammo belts across the front of his armor into a crisscross pattern and took the army helmet of the table an placed it on his head. He then put his guns in their holders; sawed-off shotguns on the sides of his chest, the 10mm. SMG on his right leg, and his trustworthy baseball on his back. He rested his combat shotgun on his shoulder and walked downstairs. As soon as he reaches the ground floor he starts shouting, "WHY THE HELL ARE YOU MAKING SO MUCH FUCKING NOISE THIS EARLY IN THE FUCKING MORNING? CAN'T A GUY GET SOME FUCKING SLEEP IN HERE WITHOUT SOMEBODY SHOOTING THEIR GUNS OFF? HUH? I MEAN COME ON!" He strolls over to a guy with two .44 caliber magnums and yells, "WHERE YOU THE ONE WHO STARTED THIS SHIT?" All he gets is a glare so he walks away to the man near the door. "HOW ABOUT YOU DICKSHIT, YOU DO IT?" Another glare so he turns around. "WHY CAN'T YOU A-HOLE JUST SIT AROUND AND TALK QUIETLY? NOOOOOOOOOO! SOMEBODY SHOOTS SOMEBODY JUST BECAUSE HE/SHE GOT BORDED? DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU ALL ARE GONNA DO BUT I WANNA GO BACK TO SLEEP!" He then walks up to the bar and politely asked the barkeep for a bottle of wine.

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Micheal seemed passive about the whole situation, as he sat by the bar A seemingly drunken man dispatched a few others with quick precision. Another Walked in, kicking the door open with his weapon drawn. When realizing the action was all but over he put his gun down as well, and continued to tell the barkeeper that her weapon was fixed. Micheal was about to get up and leave, but soon another one; angrier, and louder. He ran in screaming at the man with the magnums. A foolish mover yelling at someone who had no problem with killing any-one. Micheal simpley moved to a secluded booth, and proceeded to sit down packing a few waters he had bought moments before the commotion began. After this was done Micheal quietly set his mini-gun on his table.

Quietly Micheal began to clean the weapon, while still able to keep tabs on any more commotion out of the corner of his eyes. His helmet hindered his vision only slightly, but he would sacrifice 10 percent of his whole vision range at the sake of being encased in power armor. He set his mini gun down next to him after he was satisfied with how it was looking. He continued to pull out a different rag this time when he set his super sledge on the table. The hammer had dried blood caked onto one of the sides. Micheal simply began to clean most of it off.

The setting changes from Ground Zero to Los Angeles Wastelands

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Ethan had watched the shotgun totting man ramble on, when he left Ethan began laughing. He then stood up after collecting his payment, 60 caps, for the gun job. He was about to leave when he noticed one of the patrons, who happened to be wearing rather unique power armor, seclude himself in a booth. Ethan remembered the contact he had had with the brother hood of steel, it was a good memory. He walked over to the man slowly noting his size. He noticed the man cleaning his weapons a super sledge and mini gun. Whoever this stranger was, Ethan thought, he sure liked to make a statement.
Ethan sat across from the man and placed his rifle on the table and began pre maintanice checks of his own. He didn't say anything to the man, not yet anyway. he just sat theirthere checking the sights on his sniper rifle as the man wiped blood off a hammer.

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#, as written by Guest
The Ranger looked around, noting Bethany's brains and blood all over the aged wooden floor. The blood from the other guys was spilled across the place. The Ranger turned back towards the bar, where Calamity was just now standing from her hiding place. "Sorry about the mess, Calamity. I'll......"
Before he could finish his sentence, a Hispanic man with lots of weapons came from upstairs, shouting about how people were "waking him up so early in the morning". The Ranger wasn't listening..........until the man came screaming in his ear.
WERE YOU THE ONE WHO STARTED THIS SHIT?" the man screamed. The Ranger gritted his teeth, rubbing the handle of his left .44, thinking very seriously about putting a round between the fucker's eyes. He then walked away, screaming at other people. He exhaled deeply, turning to sit at the bar. Swiveling in his chair (okay, he was spinning like a five-year-old), The Ranger took notice of a man clad in power armor sitting at a booth in the back, cleaning his weapons. He also saw the guy who had repaired Calamity's gun, cleaning his sniper rifle as well. The Ranger was not at all interested in joining them, but the man in power armor caught his interest: the man was, afterall, a memeber of the Brotherhood of Steel. The Ranger turned back to Calamity.
"You aren't worried about letting a Brother in here? What if they're on the lookout for him?" Calamity shrugged, and The Ranger turned back to the Brotherhood Knight. He stood, sauntering over to his booth for some unknown reason. He hated socializing, but this somehow seemed important.........
Then, breaking from his slight intoxication, he remembered why:
The Ranger sat down and very soberly said.........
"Don't you guys get hot in those tin cans?"

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Micheal calmly slowed down on his cleaning job when another man with a sniper rifle sat down across from him. He didn't speak at all, no greeting, nothing. Micheal wasn't too great at breaking the ice, but he quietly gave the man sitting across from him a slow nod for a greeting. Going back to cleaning his sledge Micheal had almost but completely gotten the blood off of it until another man walked over. The one who had killed three people with ease. He sat down too, Micheal wasn't one to turn away company, so again he gave the man with the pistols a steady gaze as he spoke.

"Don't you guys get hot in those tin cans?" He asked.

Micheal pondered on this question, some days were worse than others. He preferred to walk most of the day, Sure after a few hours it got hot, but heat was something Micheal got used to a long time ago.

"Sometimes." Micheal boomed in a deep rough voice. "To tell ya the truth, you get used to it after a few years." He commented again. Micheal had stopped cleaning his Super Sledge, and continued to rest it against the mini-gun, Small talk never bothered Micheal. On most occaisions though he never really got to talke to many people. He was always on the move, never stopping for a quick convorsation. It was almost relaxing in a way. It made Micheal feel like the world wasn't suck a fucked up place any-more.

The setting changes from Ground Zero to Los Angeles Wastelands

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Magnus looked ahead of him. There was another decent sized town ahead. "About damn time," he hissed. He had been walking in the wasteland for almost 2 weeks now and hadn't run across anything. Well maybe a giant scorpion, few mutants, and a raider, but nothing new. He reluctantly continued walking into the town. He didn't really want to run into anyone but he was low on supplies and caps. The two things you need to survive out in the wastelands. The first building he saw looked like a saloon. He noted the handful of people in who were leaving it in a rush. "That less many people inside," he thought to himself. He walked into the saloon and was greeted by a heavily armored man screaming. He shook is head and walked around the man, making his way to the bar. He noted a group of men sitting at a table. Three in total. One heavily armed one with a mini gun in heavy armor and another with a sniper rifle wearing a ranger's uniform. The third however caught his eye. A man in his thirties or so with two .44 magnums and a mean look on his face. The man looked familiar but Magnus couldn't put a name to him. He grabbed a seat at the bar and was properly greeted by a red-haired woman. He pulled out a few caps for a drink. He then pulled out a few maps he had made, asking the woman if she knew where to sell them.

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Roger peered through the scope of his rifle with his good eye. Concealed between rocks, and beneath an earth-tone tarp, he looked out across the barren Wasteland. He, along with his few possessions, had been using the rocks as shelter for the past day or so. He saw only one thing, the human settlement a half-mile north of his position. He'd been multitasking, resting and staying off his feet for a day, and checking for any signs of a possible trap. It had been around 27 hours of watching, if there were raiders, he would have seen something. No shifty looking guys hiding around rocks, no suspiciously unattended food or weapons, no rotting (human) bodies. He threw the tarp off of his body, rolled it up, and put it in his bag. He did a few stretches with his legs, before heading towards town.

Roger recalled the information he'd gathered from his day of scouting the area and town, as he took a hand rolled cigarette from his jacket pocket and lit it. He hadn't smoked for the whole last day, afraid his smoke would betray his position. It looked like a dozen or so people entered, then left the town. He'd spotted five guys, that he knew of, walking around town. They probably lived there. He figured he'd head for the saloon, once he got into town. He noticed a couple of well-equipped outsiders enter the bar earlier in the day. Roger figured he could maybe trade for some more tobacco, or even some ammunition. As he closed in on the town, he extinguished his cigarette with his fingers, and placed it unfinished in his jacket.

Don't want anyone knowing I'm well off enough to afford smokes. Nobody robs the broke guy. He entered the saloon, suddenly becoming very aware of his eye patch as he noticed the other patrons. He sat at the bar, next to one of the outsiders, who was with either the barmaid, or a whore. His left hand in is jacket pocket, he ordered a glass of water and threw down his caps.

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(( you guys do know that megaton is in DC not LA right? so its kind of weird to live so far away from where the story takes place.))

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"Your'e not a knight are you?" Ethan Directed his question to the one in power armor, though he only looked through the scope of his rifle. "You do look like one at first but your blue streaks give it away. They don't allow too much armor custimization in the brotherhood. Maybe you're outcast, or maybe just looted it off a dead brother, I don't know. Also they normally don't allow secondary weapons on designated gunners who, like you, carry the minigun or the gatling laser. This is because instead of another gun just carry even more ammunition." Ethan took a screwdriver and adjusted the sights by a quarter of an inch.

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After having a drink, Demo notes the two newcomers that sat at his side and the group of armored folks at a table, two of which he just yelled at. He sighed wondering why until he realized, he had actually did that as an act of trying to get some more action but it didn't work. So, ordering another drink, he formed up a plan. He was going to kill something or someone that and it was up to them if they wanted to join him. He walked up to the table of them and said very seriously,"Sorry about before, just get cranky in the morning, we cool?" without waiting for an answer he pulls up a chair and asks "So know anybody near here that needs to be killed?"

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#, as written by Guest
The Ranger pondered on the Brotherhood Knight's reply, wondering why someone would voluntarily trudge around the wasteland in such bulky armor like that. Sure, it was good protection, but it made the wearer quite slower, was heavy, and hot as hell on the inside. Not to mention, the helmets were probably pretty claustrophobia-inducing. The Ranger sighed, pulling out a bottle of whiskey from inside his duster and draining it quickly. It was the only means he had of satiating the depressions he quite commonly felt. He began to get up and leave, but the guy who shouted at him earlier walked up and sat down beside them all.
"Sorry about before, just get cranky in the morning, we cool?" no one even got the chance to answer before he pulled up a chair. Then he began to speak again. "So know anybody near here that needs to be killed?" he said quite eagerly. THe Ranger didn't like the sound of his voice: the smooth calm of talking of blind murder, the anxiousness to get out and kill just to satisfy an internal need. The Ranger knew it, because he had once experienced it. In his younger days, just starting off as a bounty hunter, The Ranger always looked forward to ending someone's life. He also decided that any innocent bystander in the way of his bullets were just as punishable as those he hunted.
And of course, Karma became the biggest bitch he'd ever known.
People were terrified of him, and bad things began happening to him. So, he decided on two things: one, always pack clean-ish underwear. And two, ONLY kill the bad guys. The Ranger stood, tipping his hat at all those at the booth. "Wish I could stay fellas, but I have.........", he said, eyeing the newcomer to the table viciously. ".........other engagements. If you'll excuse me", he said, leaving the saloon in a hurry.
Outside, he peered around. The faces on the many people irritated him, so he decided to get out of town. No use in sticking around anyway:
That bitch Bethany was already dead.

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(OOC: Yeah, my bad with the whole Megaton thing. What I meant to say was, 'not Megaton'.)

Drinking the first clean water he'd had in weeks, Roger eavesdropped on the well-equipped men's conversation. Looking for something to kill, eh? Maybe I can sic these psychos against these fucking raiders I've been dealing with all goddamn month. He turned to the man in the Brotherhood Knight's armor.

"I couldn't help but hear that you're looking for something to kill," he said to the group, not speaking to any one man in particular. "There's a few raiders south of here, been giving me a hell of a hard time. Crafty for a bunch of drugged out junkies. You guys help me take them out, I'll throw a few caps your way. What do you say?"

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Magnus wasn't really one for conversation but when the subject came to raiders he always had a thing or two to say about them. Raiders did after all kill his wife. He then felt around for the Beretta in its holster, the machete on his back, and the assault rifle on his side. All were accounted for. The barmaid said that she had no idea were to sell the maps he had made. Magnus considered the fact he only has but a handful of caps, and a few more would not hurt. He turned to the man who had just mentioned pay for some god forsaken raiders lives. "The south can be a dangerous direction if you don't know it well," he said. "Also if you can't find their tracks you will just be wondering around until they find you," he paused and looked at the man square in the eye. "For a few caps I can take care of both problems."

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Good, someone who'll stick their neck out for one another. Well, for caps, anyway. "Name your price, friend." The eye behind his patch twitched slightly as he said 'friend'. He remembered the last person he called 'friend', who long story short, ran off with his caps and clothes. Lousy bastard, he'd better hope I never find him... "I ask of only one thing, that you trust me to pay you after the work. Would a one-eyed man lie to you?" He gave a nervous chuckle, knowing of absolutely no reason that a one-eyed man would be any more trustworthy than one with two eyes.

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Micheal intently listened to the person that spoke with him. He slightly commended the man for his ability of deduction on the weapons part of his reasoning. Most would assume he was just another Brother hood member. His knowledge of how a brother hood of steel squad worked was impressive to say the least. As the other man continued to observe his own sniper rifle Micheal spoke, the speakers on his helmet giving him a slight metallic touch to his voice.

"I was a former Palidin in the brotherhood." Micheal stated. He had been the designated gunner for his squad, but Micheal found it useful that a hammer didn't rely on ammo. He would usually use his hammer on softer, and targets that held small arms. He continued to speak, not afraid of divulging information about himself. "I thought the blue would set me apart from the brotherhood, and outcast alike." Micheal explained. Way too many people had some hatred towards his former affiliated group.

Micheal decided it would be best to introduce himself. He extended a large armored hand across the top of the table slightly open for a handshake.

"The names Micheal." His voice rumbled

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Ethan acknowledged the mans hand and extended his own. "Mine's Ethan." He shook Michaels hand and looked through his gun's sights again. "Former paladin you say? Paladin is a good rank, got to be a good fighter. Almost joined the brother hood, in fact got a personal invitation, but I wasn't ready for it yet, still aint. The world, what's left of it anyway, still has some sights worth seeing, and people who need help. I don't think I could do those things if I was a knight," He paused using the screwdriver to adjust his sights a half cm left. "So instead I try to do my part wandering around, helping people in little ways. like fixing their gun, or escorting a merchant. maybe a bounty on a troublesome raider here and there. One thing though Power Armor is some good stuff I know. But I have a few problems with it, the heat is one of course but not the worst personally i don't like the weight and how constricting it is, me, I need to be able to move easy. This armor does the job, the brotherhood gave it to me for helping them out. It's an experimental special ops armor from the military, supposed to be just as tough as power armor while being lighter and more manuevarable." He flexed showing off his black ranger armor, truth was he fricking loved that armor. Saved his life on multiple occasions and could just take a beating. Loved it more than caps.

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"Would a one-eyed man lie to you?" this statement made Magnus chuckle. "Paying me after the job is no problem. As for price you can pay me accordingly when the job is all over," Magnus said to the man. He waited a moment to look at the table which had the three heavily armed men sitting there. He was halve expecting all of them to stand up at the chance of making money. He could tell from the looks of them, that's most likely what they all wanted. Then Magnus held out a hand to the one eyed man. "My name is Magnus J. Hunter. And yours?"

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#, as written by Guest
The Ranger left the solace of Ground Zero, seeking comfort in the widespread, never-ending wasteland. He shifted his eyes here and there, keeping watch of anything "dangerous"; at least, something a little less dangerous than The Ranger's trigger finger after a few drinks. He figured he's head to Nottingham, a piss-ant little town full of commotion and stories. They had a good supply of contracts at the Regulator Post too, which is where The Ranger made his money. He spat, wiped his mouth and pressed on, hoping he'd be within a few miles of the place before the sun went down.......
Because this area wasn't particularly safe at sundown.

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Perfect, he thought, regarding the payment conditions. That'll give me time to get it all ready. Roger shook Magnus's hand. Act friendly. "Roger Reeds. You smoke?" He pulled out a metal case from his jacket, and opened it up to reveal a dwindling number of rolled cigarettes. He stuck one between his own lips, pausing before lighting it. "Hey, huh, can we smoke in here?"

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Micheal listened intently, and slowly nodded his head again whenever neccesary. After he was finished Micheal got up from his seat, and strapped his mini-gun to his back along with attaching his hammer to his side. "Nice meetng you Ethan. Wish I could chat longer, but I need to get going, I've stayed too long as it is." Micheal spoke with his back turned to him as he walked back to the bar. Micheal quickly removed a photo from a compartment in his armor, and showed it to the bartender. He continued to ask her a few questions, but came up dry. He sighed, feeling disappointed. He returned the photo to his compartment, lumbered through the bar, and continued to exit back into to the wide expanse of the wastes.

Micheal once again felt the heat hitting his armor. Soon the heat would get even more intense than it already was. He would simply endure as he had always done before. For now he would search the surrounding area for any traces of his objective. Hope would windle away until he found another town to skim through.

Thoughts drifted of his home. He missed his squad-mates. Part of him wanted to go back east, but another part of him realized this couldn't happen. No matter how much he wanted to he had a moral obligation to be where he was now. He couldn't turn back. He had come to far to quit.

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Ground Zero

Ground Zero by RolePlayGateway

A shanty town made from salvaged scrap metals and other material.

Nottingham

Nottingham by RolePlayGateway

A piss-ant little town south of Ground Zero.

North Face

North Face by RolePlayGateway

A fair-sized town north of Ground Zero. Great for entertainment.

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Ground Zero

Ground Zero by RolePlayGateway

A shanty town made from salvaged scrap metals and other material.

Nottingham

Nottingham by RolePlayGateway

A piss-ant little town south of Ground Zero.

North Face

North Face by RolePlayGateway

A fair-sized town north of Ground Zero. Great for entertainment.

North Face

A fair-sized town north of Ground Zero. Great for entertainment.

Ground Zero

A shanty town made from salvaged scrap metals and other material.

Nottingham

A piss-ant little town south of Ground Zero.

Fullscreen Chat » Create Topic » Fallout: Out of Character

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Most recent OOC posts in Fallout

Re: [OOC] Fallout

I'm just waiting for you to post buns

Re: [OOC] Fallout

Hey guys! I haven't left yet, I'll post tomorrow, my brains not working and I don't wanna spit out crap. I'm glad you guys didn't leave, because this RP rocks too much to die. Also, hell yeah for the map idea, they could be looking for treasure or something AND looking for Michael's sister.

Re: [OOC] Fallout

omg guardian I could just hug you. Thank you for posting, I've been the last post for sooooooo long. I'm just waiting for yonibuns to reply then ill do a post.

Re: [OOC] Fallout

I'm willing to continue, as long as you guys are too. Sorry I havn't been posting consistantly.

Re: [OOC] Fallout

you know plot has always been a question I had, although it looks like noones going to post...., If i had to throw an idea out we could run across a treasure map or something and have to deal with raiders and fellow treasure hunters or something idk, its the first thing off my head I just dont want it to die!

Re: [OOC] Fallout

I'm still here, I've just been super busy. Maybe we should discuss some plot or where the stories going? :) Also, live, I'm looking forward to roleplaying with you in the future (when you have time, because I know the military can be tasking in the beginning. No worries, after boot camp, you'll have plenty of off time, unless you get shipped off for your secondary training right away).

Re: [OOC] Fallout

Are we going to be able to make custom weapons

Re: [OOC] Fallout

I've been looking all over for a potentially successful Fallout Role-Play for a while now, and after careful consideration, yours seems to have the greatest potential for success as well as fun. Though I can't join now, I'd certainly like to in the near future. In regards to being loyal, I won't start yet because I'll be leaving for boot camp for the Navy in just a few days and won't be back until mid-January. If you don't mind, I'd like to, in a way, reserve a spot for a character for when I get back. I'd also like to discuss my character concept (a ghoul with relations to the Brotherhood of Steel) with you before I have my mind set on it.

You can contact me by e-mail at: [email protected]

Good luck on the Role-Play, by the way.

Re: [OOC] Fallout

Hello there! Jolkanin here, I've been looking around for a good RP to contribute to, and I happened to bump into this one. I've already submitted a character to join the RP, but haven't got a reply yet... Is this RP open to newcomers? Or is it already locked? pls reply soon...

Re: [OOC] Fallout

Sorry I've been gone. Been busy >.>

Re: [OOC] Fallout

There's no ladies of the wastes? :D Posted my character, can't wait. This inspires me to go play Fallout right now.

[OOC] Fallout

This is the auto-generated OOC topic for the roleplay "Fallout"

You may edit this first post as you see fit.