Fallout 2097: The Great Plains (IC)

[New Rnclave]

"Reeeaalllly," Smith said, elongating his words as he stretched. " The Army of the Plains Republic is 2,500 strong, using advanced tech from the Old World. We've fought legions of warriors just like yourselves, yet you claim to be superior? We will train you in the art of firearms and modern military doctrine and find out just how superior your warriors are."

The Warriors stared at the man, then abruptly chortled. "Yes, I'm sure, White Man. Finish what your ancestors started, wipe out the Sioux once and for all. This truly shows that the arrogance of the White Men knows no bounds, that even being crushed under the heel of nuclear hellfire cannot curb your superiority complex. But it shall be so, your people will train my people, and maybe you will gain respect and trust amongst the Sioux. But until you do, we will watch you, White Men".

Territory of the Dead Whisper Clan:
A group of Sioux Scouts have heard and seen the Cannibal Tribe(Prestor John) prepare for and set out to visit the Dead Whisper Clan. The Sioux plan to watch his meeting, and possibly enter it when the time is right. Until then, they will watch and observe.

" Yes please do watch us. The Plains Republic would love to ally with your people. Our Council would love to meet with your leaders actually, so at your earliest convenience, please do send delegates to meet with us. See you another day." Smith said with a fake smile. They must go was his only thought. The war wouldn't be easy, but they had no sue in this world, they were wiped out in the past and would see that repeated in this future. Chuckling easily, he continued his walk.

Fort Riley-Medical Ward

Opening the tent flaps, Smith strode in, checking over the long list of wounded, sick and dying. It was a terrible travesty really, they needed more meds, yet so few factions could provide the amount needed. Sighing, he sat down next to the bed they'd sat Sasha in.

" How has your recovery been going?" He asked cooly, running a hand through his onyx hair.

[Conglomerate of Iron]

Bartertown

Sal Malone spat at the ground.

"Pah. Fuck your bullshit." He snorted as the suit adjusted his tie. Sal stared at him. The two were quite a scene at that meeting room table. The well dressed brothel owner vs the white haired engineer in overalls. Indeed, quite the pair.

The man adjusted his tie and coughed nervously. "Sal, I need the power, but I cannot pay you up front, I just need a bit more..."

Sal laughed and guffawed as the man made excuses. A customer who did not pay was not a customer to Sal. "Expect your energy to be cut off tomorrow." Sal said as his laughing ended. "I don't care what you are spending your money on, probably your own drug habit, you look like a junkie with the pale skin, but if you cannot get the money, no power. You are boned my friend, more than your fucking hookers are every night."

The man sputtered and spat out appeasements, but Sal would have none. The man would later lose his business, and everything with it. Sal didn't give out Freebies, particularly to no pimps.

Bartertown Blues

"Hey you all out there West of Kansas City, we have a NASTY stormfront coming your way. Definite tornado watch. The storm is coming down on you within the next couple days, and there will be blood, you can count on that. Anyone who doesn't have shelter better seek some immediately. And there have been strange reports out of the ruin of Kansas City. Supposedly, some ghoul horde moving around, led by Glowing Ones. Feral, all of them. The outlook for the next week: bleak as the Nuclear Winter that ended just ten years ago! HA! We got Nat King Cole: Unforgettable!"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fy_JRGjc1To

[Irona]

SKY

Battle commences
The tribal’s flung their bodies around the campfires in a mass crazed dance, collectively howling and chanting in, what seemed to the High Lord, an orgy of madness. His warriors crouched behind a ridge barely 100 meters from the camp. The Vanguard lay atop the ridge hidden by the darkness. Long had divided his Vanguard into three squadrons of eight. The first two he’d ordered to train their weapons on the crudely constructed watchtowers and then to focus on opening a path through the meter of barbed wire surrounding the camp. Both the towers and the wire would be annihilated within seconds of the battle. The third group was to pick out any prospective leaders or threats and kill them. Once they had completed their orders the first two squads were free to take sacrifices as they pleased while the third was to continue its task till otherwise stated. The modified industrial robots were to move upon the ridge at the battles start and set the camps tents, and then residents on fire. While the rest of SKY’s force was to be divided in half, with half being set upon the barbarian’s and the rest acting as a reserve.
The High Lords communicator vibrated, he took it from it’s pouch.

“Report”

“Freehold have send us the signal, there in position. They plan on using rockets to bombard the camp and a mixture of energy and ballistic weaponry to wipe out resistance.” Ander’s voice crackled through the mike, he sounded a little shaken as if he’d just realised what was about to happen.

“Return a message. Tell them to attack at the sound of revenge.”

“Yes my lord”

Radio Broadcast from SKY zeppelin communications station

"This is sky radio station with a special message of consequence powered by XP himself"
[Play Jazz music]

Freehold, signal received. Attack at the sound of revenge.

“It is done”

Long slid his communicator back into its pouch. He took one last look at the raiders as they hurled around the fires. The High Lord raised his sword in the air, as he brought his arm down his eyes deadened and the shooting began.

Squads one and two's concentrated energy fire tore the watch towers and their occupants to pieces before opening up a path in the barbed wire. The third squad fired meticulously into the crowds, balls of plasma and beams of laser bringing down the few tribals who held weapons or stood out as leaders. The rest of the force follow'd their orders with speed. Within seconds of the first shots the rest of the troops had moved into position and were raining bullets down upon the raiders while the two Industrial robots slowly marched up the ridge, shooting jets of homemade napalm 100 meters into the air and onto the camp. The merry making had turned from confusion to panicked terror as the campsite became a hell on earth. Once the rockets struck Long would order the vanguard into the camp the slaughter the survivors.

[Pirimus]

Squads one and two's concentrated energy fire tore the watch towers and their occupants to pieces before opening up a path in the barbed wire. The third squad fired meticulously into the crowds, balls of plasma and beams of laser bringing down the few tribals who held weapons or stood out as leaders. The rest of the force followed their orders with speed. Within seconds of the first shots the rest of the troops had moved into position and were raining bullets down upon the raiders while the two Industrial robots slowly marched up the ridge, shooting jets of homemade napalm 100 meters into the air and onto the camp. The merry making had turned from confusion to panicked terror as the campsite became a hell on earth. Once the rockets struck Long would order the vanguard into the camp the slaughter the survivors.

The Battle of Lawrence

And then, In a single moment, the truest legacy man could leave was shown. In a single moment, a signal was sent, and the robots openned fire. In the first moments, a missile slammed into the central campfire, high explosives detonating in a large, fiery explosion, expanding up into the night sky. The fire itself was sent flying, chunks of smouldering wood, rotten supports and hacked apart shrubs careering through the air, spreading the catastrophic confusion and fear, pinning a single man under a burning support, screams resonating into the night sky. All in a single moment. And then, the short moment of hellfire ended. And began again, 3 more volleys of missile fire hitting home, shrapnel and fire consuming the bodies of fleeing raiders. The Freehold preached mercy, to those that earned it, and by those that cared to give it. The Good Doctor looked away for a moment as the first volley of plasma fire was launched, vapourizing some more isolated raiders. The light of plasma alerted the raiders to the prescence of the robots, and hope, the deranged hope of a caged animal given a look at it's captors arm.

That was what they were, really, not humans, caged animals, they exploited those that were innocent and ruined what remained of society. Cannibals, thieves and murderers. But still Men. That remained in many processors. But Still Men. In the future, that would matter, but now, all that mattered was the hail of small arms and rifle fire, clanging into a few unfortunate units, tearing through robotic flesh. A final hail of missile fire slammed into the newly re-scorched earth, detonating and sending chunks of burnt wood and corpse flying, killing a few more. To their credit, no raider fled, not yet, fanatiscism and chem induced bloodlust still reined. Securitrons openned fire, gatling lasers tearing into the charging enemies as they neared the robotic lines, they did not feel proud to have done this, wholesale slaughter, laser fire slamming into bodies, cooking skin and boiling blood and organs, for the short moments, until the first pilot light clicked.

The charging raiders were not stopped, by the hail of flame, not nearly, but the herd was thinned, and many surviving raiders, reaching the Mr. Gutsies had a chance to swing weapons. Casualties were taken, but the higher tech of the robots gave them an advantage, at least for now. Then, the protectrons marched in, slowly, proud and waiting for their ends, anticipating to die in battle or live to die another day. That was the mind of a Protectron, the endless wait to die. They had been made, and they had all registered that they were failures, in the eyes of mankind. Failures. And so they had come to want to die. The walked into combat in step, firing lasers across the battlefield, wounding raiders and dispatching the nearly dead. Several had the honour to die in the first charge, and the remainder split in two and turned, a strategy devised by their own, collective pride and will to honour their deaths. They fired on the backs of the raiders around them, taking glee in each death, proud of each brother in arms that died, remembering them. No other robot truly comprehended the Protectrons, most felt they had no need, and so the Protectrons were brothers, in their way, they had been together for two decades, only really included by each other.

They fired en mass as buzzsaws cut into the raiders, as gatling lasers fired, bellitling their own fire, only persuading them to unleash all the fire they could onto the backs of raiders, drawing the remaining gunfire in their sacrifice, bravery unparraleled in the Freehold. Fire flared and buzzsaws hacked into flesh, the beautiful dance of war going on, the ground scorched, flesh and metal hacked apart alike. The Protectrons drawing the fire allowed the Securitrons to begin focusing fire on the raiders fighting with Mr.Gutsies. The Protectrons, feeble and weak, bellitled all their existance, were fighting and dieing with honor, allowing fire to be diverted to the sides of the battle, away from the small groups in the centre.

Buzzsaws rended bone, lasers burnt through flesh, bullets ripped through metal, hammers slammed into electronic cores. War never changed, that was true, those who waged it, however..

[Clavkova]

The Kicks

Mick and the others made short work of the giant wasps that had entered the town, picking them off from a far. Luckily no one had been injured, but everyone knew the risk of Wasps. Once again the town was back to normal, again, Mick made his rounds. As he walked, he was called over by a citizen, who has gathering around a radio:

Bartertown Blues

"Hey you all out there West of Kansas City, we have a NASTY stormfront coming your way. Definite tornado watch. The storm is coming down on you within the next couple days, and there will be blood, you can count on that. Anyone who doesn't have shelter better seek some immediately. And there have been strange reports out of the ruin of Kansas City. Supposedly, some ghoul horde moving around, led by Glowing Ones. Feral, all of them. The outlook for the next week: bleak as the Nuclear Winter that ended just ten years ago! HA! We got Nat King Cole: Unforgettable!"

Mick looks slightly worried, Tornados could do a great deal of damage, and a ghoul horde? Even worse. He needed to act fast. That day Mick gathered the towns people out in the square

"Alright everybody. As you know, we rely on Bartertown for information on whats going on out there. Well, we've gotten word there might be a big storm coming. First off lets get food and water distributed between the homes, dividing up for family members. This Tornado could do a great deal of damage to our store houses and fields, so lets get the food and water more secure. It could be a long haul in our homes, so lets make sure we all have enough to eat and drink. Lets stop doing daily chores, and focus on making outselfs storm ready. Lets get everyone on bording up duty, fixing up any holes in the windows, doubling up on doors and such. We need to make sure any holes are sorted. Best ways to do this is to tear down the old barn." As he says this people start complaining

"I know I know, the old barn was to be rebuilt as a second store house, but this storms gonna tear it down anyway. We need that wood, so lets make use of it while we can, start boarding up everything. Second, and more worrying, sounds like ferals might be coming our way" This time people start murmuring, and worrying.

"I know I know, we aint really fought any ferals, but we all heard the story's. They aint like you or me, ok, they just want to start killing. Now I aint sure what a glowing one is but it sure as hell don't sound good. Now Im hoping that the storm will take them out, or they'll not hit us at all, but if they do, remember ghouls work on sound. So if this horde hits, its doors locked and silence. Everyone get your guns loaded and ready, just in case. The main thing we need to take from this is to listen out, if the ghouls or the storms come, get into your homes and stay there. Hopefully if were all inside these ghouls will just pass on through, no trouble. Each of us should have a bath tub and mattress, so lets get secured in our homes. If you got a basement, use it. Remember, we aint got fancy gates or enough men to kill a horde of creatures, so lets stay low and quiet, let em pass through no trouble. When your inside, barricade! Dont let nothing in. Alright, you know your duties. lets get prepared"

As Mick finishes his speech the people begin rushing off. Windows and doors are the first to start begin boarded up, each person looking after their own homes. The town becomes a hive of activity, with people passing out food and wood. The old barn drops down easy enough, giving enough wood to make some stronger defenses. Luckily with the town being so isolated and open, most of the homes were barricaded up already. Each home like a fortress. Not many people had seen ghouls, but they had heard the storys about them, and no one was taking any risks.

[Irona]

SKY

Taste of war

The rocket strike was awe-inspiring. Even Long was forced to cover his face from the immense heat and light that accompanied it. A second waves of strikes preceded the first making the very ground shake with its sheer force. When Long lowered his hand ranks of Mr. Gusties, Secuitorns and protectrons appeared through the fog of debris on the other side of the camp. Freehold had arrived. It wasn’t a second before they opened up on the raiders. To their credit the raiders did the impossible and rallied in the face of the attack and a small horde charged the lines of steel.

On the side closest to SKY the surviving raiders madly searched for weapons and returned fire. Bullets tore into the priest’s on the ridge with blood splattering the irradiated soil. The shooters were scattered and ripped to pieces or forced into cover by the return fire. Long couldn’t let the raiders reorganise and launch a counter attack against the ridge. Quickly barking orders he send Minos and two vanguard units to lead a charge into the camp while the reserves were to replace the troops that followed them on the ridge and help suppress any shooters while the charging units entered the remains of the camp.

Minos drew his Warhammer and pistol before flying forward with a shout to both Horus and XP. The Vanguard units and numerous Priests followed him taking up his shout as they left their cover and charged down the ridge and through the gap in the wire. Charred and melted bodies filled the campsite and the smell of burning flesh lay heavy in the air. Long raised his pistol and reiterated his orders to suppress enemy fire. A large group of raiders, failing to find guns had picked up knives and twisted pieces of metal and were attempting to counter charge Minos as they pushed through the opening. One of the industrial robots engulfed part of the group in napalm while a third were cut down by the suppressing shots. The raiders behind with guns were now amassing behind cover and risking pot shots at the ridge and the charging priest’s. At least four of Minos’s force were downed before the two charging groups collided just inside the camp. Long could hear the noise as they smashed together and the fighting ensued. The raiders were poorly armed and most were both covered in burns from the rockets and drunk from the dancing. The Vanguard tore their way through them with frightening ferocity carving flesh and shattering bone while chanting to their Gods.

Minos’s force quickly moved throughout the camp towards the raiders clumped in groups behind scattered bits of cover. Before the raiders even realised what was happening they were upon them, Long watched as the raiders tried to use their guns in melee combat and were cut down for their efforts.

One of the Industrial robots had run out of napalm and had joined the fray; using its sheer size and strength to tear raiders limb from limb or pop them in its claws. Raiders began to turn their backs and run and as the High Lord ordered the supressing fire to become targeted fire on those still attempting to fight the retreat became a rout with the raiders giving in to fear and panic and fleeing like animals mad with fear.

[Pirimus]

The Battle of Lawrence

As the raiders fled, the decescion was made that they could not be allowed to escape. If they did, then the other camp would be ready. With a sigh of bittersweet dissapointment, the Good Doctor made the order, and the light of flame went up into the fleeing raider lines, mopping up the remaining resistance with laser fire and plasma fire, all dealth lethal, quick blows wherever possible, killing with defined, simple, joyless efficiency. As the corpses were piled up for the humans to use, the military force counted casualties. And boy, had there been casualties. The Raiders had not died with ease, they had dragged enemies down with them. 23 Mr.Gutsies had been destroyed totally, removed from the world, their intelligences annihilated totally. Their power cells were gathered up and held on to by reverential brother units, to be returned to the Vault power circuit, in their memory. Along with them, the Protectrons had nearly died to the last man.

They had been lost in the fog and smoke of battle, afterwards, 9 of the Original 40 yet remained, coated from head to toe in blood and soot, flesh torn, weapons nearly overcharged. They tended to the dead Protectrons very, very carefully, removing their power cells and taking small parts of them in order to repair themselves with them, keeping the dead integrated into the whole over all. A Securitron had been severely wounded, and he had made the deciscion to remain assisting the SKY during the oncoming tornado. That would be one of the only safe thing to do, he couldn't make it home with the rest of them, and the Protectrons would remain with him, they couldn't make it home either. The rest would leave for home as soon as possible, but Diplomacy was needed first.

The Face of the Doctor appeared upon the General's monitor as he rolled over toward the Group of humans, suave, imperative and calm face displayed in light green.

''Greetings, Gentlemen, I believe the Cavalry has arrived, so to speak. We have much to discuss.''
As he spoke, several pallets of bottled, pure water were deposited around the Good Doctor, That would certainly aid in discussions.

The Vault, The Freehold
Mr. Handy units filed into the vault, quietly conversing about daily events, they were not looked upon as often as military units, but they still thought, in a very british manner and with the continued accent, some Butlers, some Maintenance units and some simply helpful hands. They slowly took position within the Vault, shutting off row by row to be awoken in the aftermath of the Tornado. The Vault door staved off armageddon, what hope would a Tornado have. The people hoped for the military units to return, and held some rather major concerns for those Traders far off in Kansas, it would be nice to know they were safe, but the Good Doctor assured the people that the trade party, along with some allies, would stave off the ghoul threat from Kansas.

The Door of the great Vault rolled closed,sliding back into place, ready to open when needed, for the few moments required to allow the needed personnell in. Silence was an odd thing to remember, thought the Good Doctor as the last units shut down, and he looked out over the units remaining. He frowned faintly at some, some on four legs, some on 2, some crawling on six legs. Soon, he would be able to wake up them all. No-one could even wonder about the minds of these things when given consciousness, they weren''t designed to be alive, properly. They would be awoken, however, they would need some programming changes, but they would be awoken. They would prove great defenders of the Vault, and his will in the wasteland would be enforced. For the betterment of all.

[Derpopoliss]

'What the hell!" A scout yells as he sees a horde of ghouls approaching. "Everyone, retreat!" The group of scouts hurry back to the vault and run inside. "Sir Sir Sir!" The scout runs in the office and trips over a chair. "What is it! Another Raiding party!" Mitchel slams his fist on the table, "I have much better to do then list..."It's Ghouls!" The scout cries out. "Wh-Wha..." Mitchel stares in disbelief. "Follow me sir! I'll show you!" Mitchel runs over to the vault door and looks outside, "My...God..." He takes off his glasses and drops his drink. "What do we do?" The scout asks, "We need to warn everyone!" Mitchel runs to his office and accesses the intercom: "I repeat this is not a drill, emergency! Everyone grab weapons and start closing the vault! He grabs a group of people and start picking off ghouls, "There's too many of them! Retreat!" Mitchel yells as they get into the vault and start closing the door, "We're all sa...Wait! Where's Damien!" He looks outside to see his brother shooting at the horde as they approach, "I'm buying you time! I need you too get back in, I will safe us!" Mitchel runs outside and starts killing ghouls. He watches in horror as his brother runs out of ammo. Damien pulls out two machetes and starts hacking away. "I will not give up easily!" He yells as he starts getting cornered. He throws his machete and starts punching the ghouls. He gets swarmed and falls to the ground. "BROTHER!" Mitchel yells out as his brother pulls the pin off a grenade, "See you in hell..." Damien replies as Mitchel gets pulled in, the last thing Mitchel sees is his brother exploding, and blood hits his face. He falls to the ground as the vault door slams to a shut. "Br-Brother..." He stares at his hands and sobs.

[The Greater Dutch Republic]

New Sioux City:
The Emperor and Council of Elders made a decision after hearing the radio broadcast. All residents of the Legion would be moved into New Sioux City, who would give extra fortification to its walls. With luck, the tornado would bypass New Sioux City itself and the only effect would be heavy rain and winds. The Sioux Scouts from Dead Whisper and the Plains Republic were called back, and would be retreating back to New Sioux City. As for the Ghoul Horde, the hope was that the Horde would be destroyed or have changed course after the tornado, but the extra fortification around the walls would help.

[Irona]

SKY

Negotiation
Long watched as the robots gunned down the fleeing raiders with ruthless efficiency. Mino’s lead the priest’s inside the camp on a bloody sacrificial slaughter of the enemy’s wounded. The chanting almost drowning out the screams. The High Lord walked down into the camp motioning for SKY’s own wounded and dead to be taken care of. Fifteen of the priest’s had given their lives or were so wounded that they would soon, nothing could be done but burn their bodies as they passed to speed their passage to Horus. Around thirty more priests had suffered various major injuries and would be taken back to SKY on stretchers before the next battle.

As Long stepped over two corpses mutilated by plasma fire a robot displaying a calm human face rolled towards him. Behind him trawled another line of bots carrying water which they began to distribute.

''Greetings, Gentlemen, I believe the Cavalry has arrived, so to speak. We have much to discuss.''

“That we do, there is still another raider camp to rid ourselves of but the night is still yet young. I have just received communications from the settlement that bartertown blues is reporting feral ghouls and rad-tornados” If the prospect of either scared Long he didn’t show it, his face remaining calm and his eyes Stoney.

“What are your proposals?”

[Pirimus]

SKY

Negotiation
Long watched as the robots gunned down the fleeing raiders with ruthless efficiency. Mino’s lead the priest’s inside the camp on a bloody sacrificial slaughter of the enemy’s wounded. The chanting almost drowning out the screams. The High Lord walked down into the camp motioning for SKY’s own wounded and dead to be taken care of. Fifteen of the priest’s had given their lives or were so wounded that they would soon, nothing could be done but burn their bodies as they passed to speed their passage to Horus. Around thirty more priests had suffered various major injuries and would be taken back to SKY on stretchers before the next battle.

As Long stepped over two corpses mutilated by plasma fire a robot displaying a calm human face rolled towards him. Behind him trawled another line of bots carrying water which they began to distribute.

''Greetings, Gentlemen, I believe the Cavalry has arrived, so to speak. We have much to discuss.''

“That we do, there is still another raider camp to rid ourselves of but the night is still yet young. I have just received communications from the settlement that bartertown blues is reporting feral ghouls and rad-tornados” If the prospect of either scared Long he didn’t show it, his face remaining calm and his eyes Stoney.

“What are your proposals?”

The Good Doctor, Lawrence
The Good Doctor's face remained still, and his voice remained calm and genial, as he began to think of demands and offers to be made. This could prove profitable to him, if he managed to think of the right proposals.

''Primarily, we wish to accept the terms presented to us in your Radio message. A Trade Route between our two settlements, water for power. We will gladly guarantee your independence to the best of our ability and will acept what is offered in return. We wish to invite the Tech Priests as specified, they will be of some help to us in the Vault, and we will gladly accept the proposed use of a Fusion Reactor, doing so would allow us to more than double the number of active units available to us, including some advanced military units. We also wish to be allowed access to the Bowersock Hydroelectric power plant. We may produce approximately 800 750ml bottles of clean, pure water per 5 days. We also extend an offer of goodwill at the current time, we are willing to allow as many of your people as can travel to the Vault safely to stay within until the Tornado ends. We do not possess adequate food supplies, so you will have to bring your own food and some comforts. We advise speed in this endeavour. Any of your people that wish to remain here, will be left with these 9 Protectrons and my slightly wounded colleague here, a Securitron, as they cannot reach the Vault fast enough to be safe in transit. I would leave more time for deliberation, but we are in some very pressing circumstances, and haste will be needed.''

He waited eagerly for a reply. The threat of a Tornado and of armies of roving ghouls had made many robots out in the waste Paranoid, and several new recruits had trickled into the Vault, around 17 new units, Mr Handies and Mr Gutsies, taken into the Vault, introduced by the few awake residents, and then put to sleep to save power. At least the Batteries were charging.

[Irona]

SKY

Deal
Long listened to the Good Doctors proposal’s. They were exactly what he’d wanted to hear. This was the beginning of a new dawn for SKY and for the faith.

“We accept your terms, if we leave now and let the other raiders die at the hands of the ghouls and tornados then we can have the reactor disassembled and ready for transport by daybreak. We would like to send our children to your vault alongside the man who decrypted the binary and six hand-picked tech priest’s. They will ensure the correct reassembly of the reactor and in learn about robotics and how to build whatever it is you use to produce water, they can also help you with any repairs and critical thinking. The rest of us will pull down the zeppelin, expand the explosives field and create some sort of shelter yto weather down”.
He ordered his troops to scavenge what they could, including a large amount of surviving barbed wire and make haste back to SKY.

[The National Dominion of Hungary]

I-70, Dead Whisper Territory

"Bartertown is very close to our home if you go through the Dead City, a bit longer if you go around but still very close." Big Bert said, still bowed down before to robot, as was Tara. The older man simply stood before the machine, a friendly look upon his face. The robot truly spoke for the Avatar! This was a great day for the Dead Whispers, they were chosen by the Holy Gear, the truly were! Their faith had payed off! Dennis was certain that Tara and Bert were beyond themselves with joy. "Well then, we shall take you to our home at once Great One." Dennis said and so the joined party of clansmen, robots and the refugee family set off across the wastes back to the Kansas Speedway Racetrack.

---

"Heeey! Heyah!" Tara ran through the gate and further through the street. "Everyone! Come on, get over here!" She ran further through the street, passing surprised clansmen and to the square. "Everybody! Come to the Square!" People gathered seeing the young woman with an expression of utter excitement upon her face as she pointed toward the "main street" that lead toward the gate. On the street people parted to allow a procession of machines alongside the refugee family and the two other hunters made their way toward the square. A hubbub of conversation rose and then faded as people knelt and bowed before the machines as they passed them and moved into the square, surrounded by storefronts, marketstalls and the people of the Dead Whisper clan, old and young, men and women gathered around the machines and fell to their knees before the silverly magnificence of the robots. "Quick! Someone get the Chief! And the Engineseer!" Bert shouted out to the crowd and someone rose, making their way off to get them.

First to arrive was the Engineseer, a man in his late thirties clad in robes and carrying a staff decorated with cogwheels and pieces of metal. He immediately fell on his knees before the machines. "Oh Great Ones, you have come from the Avatar of the Holy Gear and the Great V-8! You grace our filthy world with your shining bodies, we are unworthy to be chosen by you. You honor us more than we deserve by being in our midst!" His welcoming speech was interrupted when a strong, well-built man in his early fifties made his way through the crowds, his eyes fixed upon the lead securitron, he strode confidently beffore it, passing the Engineseer and giving the machine a bow, but without falling to his knees. "Welcome." He said in a calm, confident tone of voice. "Welcome to Whispertown Great Ones. We, the Dead Whisper Clan are honored to have you here. I am James Carmichael, Chieftain of the Dead Whispers." He looked at the crowds, snapping at someone, a young woman, a graceful beauty, with piercing blue eyes and raven-black hair. She rose and walked over to the chieftain, standing beside him. "And this is my daughter, Sarah Carmichael." Sarah bowed before the robot. "And we both wonder why you grace our humble town with your presence?"

[Pirimus]

I-70, Dead Whisper Territory

"Bartertown is very close to our home if you go through the Dead City, a bit longer if you go around but still very close." Big Bert said, still bowed down before to robot, as was Tara. The older man simply stood before the machine, a friendly look upon his face. The robot truly spoke for the Avatar! This was a great day for the Dead Whispers, they were chosen by the Holy Gear, the truly were! Their faith had payed off! Dennis was certain that Tara and Bert were beyond themselves with joy. "Well then, we shall take you to our home at once Great One." Dennis said and so the joined party of clansmen, robots and the refugee family set off across the wastes back to the Kansas Speedway Racetrack.

---

"Heeey! Heyah!" Tara ran through the gate and further through the street. "Everyone! Come on, get over here!" She ran further through the street, passing surprised clansmen and to the square. "Everybody! Come to the Square!" People gathered seeing the young woman with an expression of utter excitement upon her face as she pointed toward the "main street" that lead toward the gate. On the street people parted to allow a procession of machines alongside the refugee family and the two other hunters made their way toward the square. A hubbub of conversation rose and then faded as people knelt and bowed before the machines as they passed them and moved into the square, surrounded by storefronts, marketstalls and the people of the Dead Whisper clan, old and young, men and women gathered around the machines and fell to their knees before the silverly magnificence of the robots. "Quick! Someone get the Chief! And the Engineseer!" Bert shouted out to the crowd and someone rose, making their way off to get them.

First to arrive was the Engineseer, a man in his late thirties clad in robes and carrying a staff decorated with cogwheels and pieces of metal. He immediately fell on his knees before the machines. "Oh Great Ones, you have come from the Avatar of the Holy Gear and the Great V-8! You grace our filthy world with your shining bodies, we are unworthy to be chosen by you. You honor us more than we deserve by being in our midst!" His welcoming speech was interrupted when a strong, well-built man in his early fifties made his way through the crowds, his eyes fixed upon the lead securitron, he strode confidently beffore it, passing the Engineseer and giving the machine a bow, but without falling to his knees. "Welcome." He said in a calm, confident tone of voice. "Welcome to Whispertown Great Ones. We, the Dead Whisper Clan are honored to have you here. I am James Carmichael, Chieftain of the Dead Whispers." He looked at the crowds, snapping at someone, a young woman, a graceful beauty, with piercing blue eyes and raven-black hair. She rose and walked over to the chieftain, standing beside him. "And this is my daughter, Sarah Carmichael." Sarah bowed before the robot. "And we both wonder why you grace our humble town with your presence?"

The Good Doctor, Kansas Speedway
The Good Doctor smiled in a Good Natured fashion over the assembled crowds around him, keeping his attention mainly on the Chief, black, pixelated eyes staring with calculated, but not cruel, intensity. He would have to be careful around this one, The people were Devoted to their god, certainly, and the ''Engineseer'' was a Blind Fanatic. The Chief was more intelligent, far more so than his people. Something in the man's eyes suggested he knew more than the so called gods of his people. It would make sense, he looked to have lived most of his life before Armageddon. He would have to be careful.

''Greetings, Chieftain, I am the Doctor, Ruler of the Freehold. I am glad to find such a concentration of faith as this in the desolation of the wasteland. I had orderred this group of my Children to travel to a place named Bartertown to trade for certain items that I require. We were guided here by a few of your scouts to meet with you, To discuss the affairs of your settlement, and to see how it is that our Lord's will has been done here.''

He spoke in a confident, decisive tone, speakers broadcasting his speech to the Crowd as a whole, and to the Chieftain. He wondered as to the tradition of these people, if they worshipped technology as they seemed to. They seemed to be Tribals, if anything, hardly worshippers of technology. No matter, he could give them great ''boons'' in that case, modern weapons would be quite the useful tool to tribals. As this mismatch of thoughs crossed his processor, his face remained still, a fixed and intense, perhaps slightly knowing gaze resting squarely on the Chieftain.

Constantine Chase, The Road back to the Freehold, a fair amount faster this time
The Units floated or rolled down the road at nearly top speed, slowing only to ensure the health and survival of the children riding atop them, holding on tightly to string and rope lattices around the robotic bodies. The units could see storm clouds in the distance to the west, and far off gunfire to the east. They needed to make it back home as fast as possible. Reactor parts, chunks of metal and tools were being carried too, the Vault door remained ready to open at a moments notice, waiting for the units to Arrive.

The General hoped they made it back safe, he had achieved in days what Jack hadn't achieved so far, and made the Freehold allies and power production. Granted he had lost many units and Jack had Likely kept each unit pristine and in condition, but results mattered more than the means they were achieved. Once they were in the Vault, the Reactor would be assembled and wired up as fast as possible and the switch flicked, the great lights of the vault turning on for the first time in a long time. What a glorious image that would be, to see the Vault, alive once more, and ready to crank out brand new military units of all shapes and sizes, ready for the firing line. He could do great things with that kind of military power, he had faith that The Good Doctor would do.

He hoped they would get their safe, truly, these humans had fought alongside him with weapons almost below a Mr.Handy and had held their own competently. He'd be proud to have them as allies. He even held some respect for the Protectrons. They had damn well fought to the last for the rest of them, and they'd lost 31 units in that battle. He never used to think of them as more than Bulletsponges, but damn, the things were brave. He couldn't fault them there. But it was not the time to reminisce, it was time to get the child on his head somewhere where he wouldn't be chewed on or thrown a few miles across the landscape. To better places.

[Kazarogkai]

News of the great wind funnels bought shock and fear into the ranks of the Marionites who feared these inhuman monsters known as tornadoes by some more than anything. No matter what the circumstances these things bought pain and suffering to their people going wherever wanted on a path of destruction. These people were nomads with the sky as the ceiling and the ground as the bed of the house from which they laid. This bought both negatives and positives with one obvious one being they don't really have to leave anything behind, but the negative being they can't truly hide from the upcoming cataclysm. The only thing they could do was run. But right before the general decision to retreat was made someone came up with a rather intelligent plan. For one thing it was already known that they needed to protect their livelihoods as such they needed to secure them somewhere first. Marion Castle, specifically it's underground caverns, would be good a place as any to hide them. So the decision was made to bring the tribes animals and also the most vulnerable persons to Marion Castle to shelter there for the upcoming onslaught. Tearful farewells were made between loved ones who were to be separated, and assurances were made of return. A few gunmen were kept behind for protection but otherwise everyone was made to march south. The destination in question was known formerly as The City of Marion which was collectively known to the people as The Scorched Zone, a name given to it referencing the large fires that occurred there during the days of chaos that followed after the world ended with a bang so long ago. They made their way there in hopes of taking shelter in the various abandoned basements and cellars that were located in the old houses and hopefully ride out the storm. Individual groups were formed and frantically searched and searched. When found they would make their way in quietly and in an orderly fashion. As a precaution people took chains and chained themselves to various pipes and even the very walls as a just in case measure to hopefully prevent themselves from being "grabbed" by the tornado in question. Now all they could do was wait for the time of judgement to come.

[New Rnclave]

Feral Ghoul/Radiation Sickness Pandemic

The first day had been easy. Five Feral Ghouls had come running from the ruins of. Forest, and had been easy enough to handle, but as more and more came to the Republic, the Government had been forced to step in. Anyone exhibiting the signs of radiation sickness, was to be shot on sight. 20 refugees coming to the Republuc had been shot, and a mass grave had been opened outside of Fort Riley. Everyday the number of bodies grew, and Snow knew as leader of the People's Militia, he had to respond. Standing atop his podium, he spoke.

" The outbreak of Lazarus flu has swept over The Plains Republic. Radiation sickness is the first effect of the Lazarus Flu, and within three days, a man or women effected by the flu will become a feral mosnyer. That is why, with help from Republic Scouts, we have declared a war against this flu. Any feral beast within 20 miles of us will be wiped out by years end, I swear that to you people, we will wipe out this pandemic forcibly."

[Irona]

SKY

Preparations
It had been just four days since Ander and the robots had left for the Good Doctors vault but SKY had under gone a complete overhaul. SKY itself, the zeppelin, had been pulled down and packed inside the thick walls of one of the derelict factory’s. It had been no easy task but they’d done it and with speed fear of the rad tornados propelling them onwards. SKY’s defences were quickly expanded with more explosives and a sea of barbed wire and metal spikes in the run up to the walls. The derelict factory was then converted into a makeshift shelter with robot, human and ghoul working as fast as possible to make it safe. Sheet after sheet of corrugated iron was welded over the windows and the walls reinforced. The huge factory doors were rebuilt and attached to a hastily build hydraulics system ready to slam shut in seconds. The settlements supplies piled into the factory’s basement alongside scavenged mattresses and pre-charged solar lamps. The entire population of SKY was exhausted. Everything deemed essential by the Lords was pulled down and into the safety of the factory the roof of which had become a lookout point equipped with an early warning system.

The process had not been without difficulties, arguments had broken out between Tech and Sky priests at almost every turn fuelled by stress and lack of sleep. It had gotten to the point were Long was almost happy when some of the explosives were set off and the protectrons manning the walls opened fire. At first he thought it might be a ghoul horde but in fact it was just small raiding party from the second camp probably bent on revenge for the massacre of their sister tribe. The explosives and other booby traps had made quick work of most of the group before the protectrons even opened fire, Long getting to the wall just as the last raider was shot to pieces.

SKY was prepared, with neither ghouls nor radioactive tornados spotted the priest’s began to grow restless; Long knew it was just a matter of time.

[Pirimus]

The Vault
The small army of Securitrons, Mr Gutsies and dilapited refugees streamed into the vault, rain streaming off of steaming metal into grates in the floor. The route home had become rather dangerous after the halfway mark, the Tornado had appeared on the horizon, and the rain had begun soon after, lightning crackling through their air with violent intensity, a smell of ozone evident to those with nasal sensory organs. The groups had begun to run, sprint even, when the Vault had been sighted, the door rolling open to greet them, warm, artificial light praqctically rolling out over the chopped up landscape, the vaguelly green, sickly pillar of cloud in the distance inching ever closer. The people had been filed in and registered one by one as they had arrived, ensuring no-one had been lost on the way, whipped up by the storm.

A Room had been prepared for the humans, soft, laminate flooring coated in miscellanious pillows, mattresses and cloth, making the room almost into a comfortable pile, certainly an exciting prospect to the children. A pallett of water bottles had been set out in the corner of the room, along with a few cans of food, what could be scrounged up for the guests. After a few hours, they were escorted to a large, warehouse like area, filled with rows upon rows of robotic units, mostly Robco, but some more odd units far off in the back of the warehouse like rooms. A work crew of 50 units were sent to their engineers to assist, explaining to them the mechanism of water condensation in themselves, and how it was then poured out and presumably drunk.

The Mr.Handies assisted however neccesary in the oncoming constructions, eager and glad of the work, hoping to see new faces as soon as possible.

[The National Dominion of Hungary]

Kansas Speedway Racetrack

The chieftain simply nodded. "We do your holy work here, we preserve and protect the machines whose spirits favor us and many more things as ordained by the Gear." He said politely, wondering exactly what controlled these machines, some form of AI core? That did seem the most likely scenario, he wondered if the core knew what power it could have over the Dead Whispers. The chieftain would have to manouver this as well as he could, this AI could get funny ideas that would become detrimental to the clan. "Come, oh Great One, let us speak further in my quarters, if you would follow me." Carmichael said ang gave curt nod to the lead machine before making his way up to his home, his shabby little, "palace" so to speak and the securitron rolled along behind him.

They entered the chieftain's quarters and James sat down in a once very fine armchair, looking at the robot, and the face it projected on it's screen. "You said you have something you wish to discuss with me, then do it here. I would rather not have anyone unwelcome overhear this." He said in a matter-of-factual tone of voice, awaiting the robot's response.

[Pirimus]

Kansas Speedway, Good Doctor Securitron
The Good Doctor looked at the man thoughtfully for a moment, examining his facial expression. This man wasn't a fanatic, nor did he begin to think of the robots as gods, that was all too clear at this point. The man didn't want the Good Doctor muscling in to take his power. Understandable. So then, what did the good doctor stand to gain from all this. A trading partner, and an ally. The chieftain stood to gain advanced weaponry and training for his men, along with some technological assistance, a fair enough trade.

''You are an intelligent man, Chieftain, so I will not do you the deservice of acting like some form of deity''

The Good Doctor spoke quietly, so as not to be overheard, with a simple politeness and purpose.

''Trade. We may both profit from one another. Your people are primitive and poorly armed''
It had been said as a fact, rather than an insult.
''I will soon have the weapons, and currently have the infrastructure neccesary to assist in training them for the use of more modern weaponry. In exchange, I require additional allies to call on when the need may be, and general trading partners. Rest easy, Chieftain, I am sure this will be a pleasant relationship, and a profitable one. I will not do anything to take your power, that is, if you do not do any damage to my own. I will not preach myself to your people as a God.''

He did not smile nor frown during the conversation, his face flat and blank, presenting terms as they were, offers, with no need to be sugar coated.

The Vault
The Reactor had begun to be assembled, slowly coming closer to finally giving the Vault the power it needed to awaken. Soon. But for now, lights pulsed faintly, rows upon rows of robots sleeping in silence. Not a new sight, by any means, in fact, one that had made up most of the Vault's existance. The Mainframe of The Good Doctor was running at just under 2/10ths of full power, he eagerly awaited the moment he could reactivate himself totally. When he could properly awaken, he would be capable of greater things. He would be the greatest intellect from here to wherever House had ended up, He would be able to awaken the entire Vault, 500 lights flicking on in unison, speaking in hundreds of voices, bellowing out in the urge for light, in the urge to begin their work. That force would be a great one, for good, or for ill. Much would be built, but much too would be brought to the earth in clouds of fire and hails of bullets. Once he had his five hundred, his work would begin, his eyes all open, his mind ready to begin. He would gather any other robots left in the waste too, whatever was left to join him in his great work. It was a mere dream, for now, but soon. Soon would come the light, back into the world in the eyes of chrome and glass.

Or so he hoped. Storms tore at the world around, pelting chunks of rock and abandoned buildings into the world around them, bringing low more and more of what man had built. He had heard adio messages detailing the hordes of Ghouls, too, that ripped apart men and irradiated others. This was not the worst of the waste. This event that would have been the epitome of an apocalypse pre war, horrifying monsters and the sky churning up the world, was simply a particularily bad day, in the new wastes. How everything had changed, the day the world had begun to rot, and how the world now changed around small groups of maggots, tearing at the wounds, ignorant to everything but their little world, their patch of flesh left on the carcass.

[The National Dominion of Hungary]

Kansas Speedway Racetrack

James Carmichael, took a deep breath and gave the machine a small, crooked smile as the Good Doctor spoke to him. This was an AI, an advanced AI, he wondered what it's purpose was, where it had come from, who had built it. But those were questions for later perhaps. Now, he had other things to worry about. He needed to secure some form of arrangement with this AI, which propably knew he would have to

"Thank you Doctor." Carmichael said as the machine dropped the act it had put on before the rest of the clan. "Indeed, trade is ever beneficial, but we do not have much to offer in the way of goods, we mostly produce for our own needs, he have some weapons, ammunition and some consumer goods such as clothes that our people make. We cannot spare any energy cells however, we need them for our vehicles. We can however offer our services as extra manpower for both warfare and other projects, many among us are skilled scouts, fighters, craftsmen and mechanics." He said as the Doctor mentioned trading. "Yes, compared to some groups we are quite poorly armed, which is why pre-war armaments would be appreciated, mainly assault rifles and sniper rifles as we would propably be able to produce ammunition for them." He said as the spoke of arming the Dead Whsipers.

"Do not worry, I will gladly enter an alliance with you, Doctor, we will trade what we have to spare if you have any use for it, perhaps if only to sell onward to others." The Chief simply nodded. "I have no wish and no reason to somehow move against you or your base of power. So, we have an agreement, and alliance and an agreement of trade?"

[Derpopoliss]

The Warriors stared at the man, then abruptly chortled. "Yes, I'm sure, White Man. Finish what your ancestors started, wipe out the Sioux once and for all. This truly shows that the arrogance of the White Men knows no bounds, that even being crushed under the heel of nuclear hellfire cannot curb your superiority complex. But it shall be so, your people will train my people, and maybe you will gain respect and trust amongst the Sioux. But until you do, we will watch you, White Men".

Territory of the Dead Whisper Clan:
A group of Sioux Scouts have heard and seen the Cannibal Tribe(Prestor John) prepare for and set out to visit the Dead Whisper Clan. The Sioux plan to watch his meeting, and possibly enter it when the time is right. Until then, they will watch and observe.

" Yes please do watch us. The Plains Republic would love to ally with your people. Our Council would love to meet with your leaders actually, so at your earliest convenience, please do send delegates to meet with us. See you another day." Smith said with a fake smile. They must go was his only thought. The war wouldn't be easy, but they had no sue in this world, they were wiped out in the past and would see that repeated in this future. Chuckling easily, he continued his walk.

Fort Riley-Medical Ward

Opening the tent flaps, Smith strode in, checking over the long list of wounded, sick and dying. It was a terrible travesty really, they needed more meds, yet so few factions could provide the amount needed. Sighing, he sat down next to the bed they'd sat Sasha in.

" How has your recovery been going?" He asked cooly, running a hand through his onyx hair.

Fort Riley-Medical Ward
She laughed, "It's been going pretty good. Literally every single patient and staff member had hit on me. Seems like they want to to 'relieve' them." She pulls him closer. "But the only person I'd relieve is you..."

[New Rnclave]

" Yes please do watch us. The Plains Republic would love to ally with your people. Our Council would love to meet with your leaders actually, so at your earliest convenience, please do send delegates to meet with us. See you another day." Smith said with a fake smile. They must go was his only thought. The war wouldn't be easy, but they had no sue in this world, they were wiped out in the past and would see that repeated in this future. Chuckling easily, he continued his walk.

Fort Riley-Medical Ward

Opening the tent flaps, Smith strode in, checking over the long list of wounded, sick and dying. It was a terrible travesty really, they needed more meds, yet so few factions could provide the amount needed. Sighing, he sat down next to the bed they'd sat Sasha in.

" How has your recovery been going?" He asked cooly, running a hand through his onyx hair.

Fort Riley-Medical Ward
She laughed, "It's been going pretty good. Literally every single patient and staff member had hit on me. Seems like they want to to 'relieve' them." She pulls him closer. "But the only person I'd relieve is you..."

" Well thank you." Smith said, chuckling gently as he checked the clipboard with her medical information on it.

" Seems you'll be good to walk in a few days. And please forgive the men here, when your trying to expand a nation like this, and expand humanity, you don't have much time for being relived so to speak. In other news, your Vault has agreed to join the republic, meaning they will still be part of us."

[Syrixces]

The Few

Jedadiah Rome sniffed the wet air, as he emerged from his tent. "Good day for ridin'", he muttered.

They sauntered onwards, stopping occasionally for the rad- horses to water, shooting down any obstacles in their way.

Off in the distance, Chief Rome saw what looked like a large settlement. An old fort. He motioned forward his three best men, and they rode to the gates. Rome looked around, fired a quick revolver shot into the air, and shouted, "Anybody home?!"

[Dernland]

New Eden Radio

The silent channel suddenly buzzed with sound. The soft, but powerful voice of a kindly old man echoed over the speakers. "Hello people of the wasteland I am Joseph Williams, a Prophet of God. Many of you have undoubtedly heard of our blessed sanctuary, and some of you may have even seen it. We have built this transmitter to bring all into the fold of God, and to announce our presence to all in the wasteland. We welcome any man who seeks food, water, shelter, or redemption. We give freely of what we have so that none can be found wanting. We urge any settlements out there to make contact with us, so that we may begin trade and to rebuild this world."

As the man finished his speech, a choir began to sing A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief.