Fallout: Louisiana Blues | IC | Closed and Dead |

[Krugmar]

Albert L'Auberge
Council Room
Providence

Albert could not feel happy for his triumph, due to the circumstances in which he had earned it. He held his tongue when the Marshal declared the meeting over, for he was anxious to return to his Casino and get some rest. His family would be worried sick by now, he had been gone for hours. Hopefully the damned butler wouldn't have smashed anything else, the vintage plates they often used had cost him a small fortune and he did not want to see them broken. He pulled together his papers and made himself ready to leave, intending to get a good nights rest and put the horrid affair behind him.

'Sawbones'
I-10, West of Defiance

Sawbones observed the map, scanning it and replicating it within his systems. "Look lively soldier, we have some marching to do!" he shouted, before zooming off in the direction of Baton Rouge. He had no idea what the place was, or whether they could fix him there, yet he trusted the meatbag and his canine companion. Not that he wanted to, it was just that he had very little choice. He was the first meatbag he had come across in a long time who hadn't tried to shoot him and scrap him for his parts, or just ignored the gibberish that came out of his voice module.

[Fascist Russian Empire]

Victor Robinson

"Oh, I have a battle plan already. Let me be the first to assure you, I'm not going to blindly jump into any situation where there's a possibility I could lose. The plan is, well, obviously first to get a decent fighting force of mercenaries, at least fifty and preferably around seventy five. Being outnumbered thirteen to one shouldn't matter much against filthy raiders, slavers, and gangsters; the only advantage they have is numbers. After getting the troops ready, then the plan is to divide the force into half, and hit Morgan City in a pincer attack, advancing in echelon formations, hitting them hard from two sides at once. From there, both attack groups would storm into the city, piercing whatever defenses the city would have at its entrances, gunning down anybody who tries to stop us; the element of surprise should give a big early advantage. After penetrating the city's main defenses, both attack groups would then fight their way to the center, where they would split into numerous small teams of five soldiers and start clearing out buildings and securing important strategic positions. From there, the remaining resistance would be neutralized and the city secured. The point is to strike hard, fast, and without mercy, dealing as much damage as possible as quickly as possible, crushing the opposition before they know what hit them." Victor said to Hugo as they walked behind Gunny, responding to Hugo's accusation that Victor didn't have a battle plan.

"Our victory will hopefully be the first of many glorious victories for the Enclave. With a little effort, the Enclave can be put in a position where we will be able to conquer the entirety of the Louisiana Wasteland, and secure this region for our own purposes. We're never going to get anywhere by simply hiding in the shadows, watching the Brotherhood grow stronger while we fade away into obscurity. Now is a chance for the Enclave to once again become one of the most powerful factions in America, and I fully intend to capitalize on this opportunity. With a little luck, as a reward for my efforts and work, I'll be promoted to the rank of an officer, perhaps even a general, and I'll be given the resources and soldiers needed to secure Louisiana for ourselves. Louisiana can become a glorious bastion of Enclave ideals, fueling the Enclave with resources and manpower, with myself leading the show and crushing anyone who stands in the Enclave's way. I will make our enemies feel the might of the Enclave, and when they feel our might, they will fear our might; there's good reason why we used to be the strongest people in America, before our oil rig was blown up and our work sabotaged. With some effort, and a lot of fighting, we can once again rise to the top and dominate anyone who dares try to stop us. Now is a pivotal moment, from which the restoration of the Enclave will rise." Victor continued, letting his fanatical Enclave ambitions be known.

Victor had, for his entire life, been infinitely dedicated and loyal to the Enclave. He had never questioned the legitimacy of them or their ideals, never questioned why he was fighting for them, holding an unshakable loyalty to them. For Victor, his biggest dream was to see the Enclave restored to their former power, their goals of restoring pre-war America and wiping out the mutants coming to fruition. Some people might have had fantasies of great wealth, or power, but for Victor, what he wanted was to see all of America bow before the Enclave, and to have himself make it happen; being promoted to the rank of commander, and leading the Enclave's armies to glorious victory and triumph against the Brotherhood of Steel and the NCR was Victor's only ambition in life. He was amongst the most fanatical members of the Enclave, to say the least, his fanaticism putting even Legate Lanius to shame, and he would stop at nothing to see its goals come to life, stop at nothing to see its enemies crushed, and stop at nothing to see its rise to power.

[Neo-Chicago]

Senior Knight Samuel, Mayor's Office Building

Samuel expected a reaction like this, but so far it was going as he planned it to. "You have to understand, I believe I have information on who committed the act." he said, knowing that this would intrigue him. He did technically have information on who did it, but he wasn't exactly going to divulge that information, not in the way someone who wanted to reveal the perpetrator would.

[Virenna]

THE SOUTHPORT,
VENDETTA

An old foreign tune blared throughout the boardwalk from a dozen radios as the denizens of Morgan City made merry, the moans of whores melting with the sounds of drunken brawls, gunfire, laughter, and the music to create some foul air of debauchery not seen since the days of Sodom and Gomorrah.

Here was the Southport, the section of the city controlled by the Sweethearts and their enigmatic leader, Gideon Roseville, "Le Comte", who secured his slice of pandemonium with a host of hookers, boxers, and petty thugs paid well by the performances of the former two. While gang warfare had always been endemic to Vendetta, the city's name itself revealing its nature, the Southport was secured with sturdy makeshift walls of scrap metal, fence, stone, and ruined cars, and the various thugs hired by the Sweethearts provided some sense of order and security for the owners of the turf and their patrons.

The brothels and boxing ring of the Southport provided entertainment for the people of Vendetta, and in return the coffers of Gideon and his exclusive gang (which operated more like some sort of secret club) were filled with caps. Gideon's cunning and careful use of power had allowed him to climb to one of the most dominant positions in Morgan City, playing the other factions against each other while he continued to grow in strength, outmaneuvering foe and "friend" alike on that age-old chessboard with the highest stakes.

To keep business booming, Gideon often arranged elaborate carnivals with what means he had every couple of months, using radios, old christmas lights, booze, drugs, cheap prices for his prostitutes and a boxing tournament with constant gambling all combining to give Southport a rush of customers looking to have a good time. Gideon encouraged people entering the turf through the gate to wear exotic masks he had mercenaries, paid a small fortune, gather from New Orleans. All the elements fused to make Southport appear as if it did in the Old World, a mardi gras as intoxicating and mysterious as the Sweethearts themselves.

Within one yellow plantation house along the pier, the heart of the Sweethearts' controlled territory, Gideon enjoyed the pleasures of a beautiful blonde woman and a swarthy man in a room of silken purple drapes, deep blue satin pillows, and an ornate rug behind a beaded curtain. "The yellow one", as Gideon called it, was the Southport's most expensive brothel, and its classiest as a result.

Yet whorehouses, no matter their appearance, are whorehouses nonetheless, and in a way, the smoky, illusionary halls of the yellow bordello mimicked their master; though Gideon Roseville was suave, made you think of "the way things were before" with his dress and his voice and his look-he was a gangster nonetheless. And so after an hour of fucking, he emerged through the beaded door in nothing but underwear to two of his thugs holding a dirty vagrant smelling of booze and cheap, stale cologne. Here was another problem, another stupid fucker who didn't want to pay for the girls' services-even while the boss was home.

"I swear, I swear-I'll pay you back tomorrow-please!" the drunk pleaded, tears in his eyes, his stained suit wrinkled.

Gideon looked at him up and down nonchalantly, his face not showing a hint of either anger or sympathy. Though it was a hot night and the lamps were currently calling mosquitos to their deaths like sirens in some strange neon sea, Gideon's eyes remained as cold as the landscape did that primordial day after The Last Day some 200 fateful years ago.

Le Comte disappeared behind the beaded curtain for a moment and returned with his scoped .357 magnum at his hip, his face still rigid like stone and his eyes looking down at the drunk with some mix of disgust and sympathy, a worker at the dog pound finally putting down the old one-eyed mutt that had been there for months.

"OH GOD WA-"

But the drunk didn't get to finish. Most men didn't get to finish their last words and Gideon thought it unfair that a drunk should. The bullet entered the drunk's eye and exited his skull in a fury of blood and brain, a crimson wave splattering out over the carpet and on the thugs, who kept their grimaces-though their eyes betrayed a fear like that of a child's.

Roseville nodded to them and at the madame who quickly ran upstairs, letting them know to get the mess cleaned up as he changed back into his clothing and planned to tour the streets and see what hedonistic circle of hell the Southport had summoned this time.

[SaintB]

The Front

"I'm cool Rocky. I stuck a stimpack in Monet's wounds so he'll be fine."

Urban consumed some healing powder and took the bullet out of his leg and wrapped it with a cloth acting as a bandage. He had collected a nice amount of loot and was happy with himself. Now to split it with the rest.

"Alright here's the loot. We got 2 combat armors, 4 different varieties of mercenary apparell. A hunting rifle, a varmint rifle, 2 9mm Submachine guns, 2 Chinese Assault Rifles, a .357 Revolver and a 10mm Pistol. Their corresponding ammunition, some squirrels on a stick a mirelurk cake, some healing powder and a map of the area with some markings. Oh and 5 bottles of pure water."

Urban thought carefully

"Alright, here's the deal. When we get to town. Any similar weapons, I'll fix em all up. Rocky, I'll fix up your Chinese Assault Rifle. Monet, I'll fix up your Hunting Rifle. Now I'll fix up the Armors so in the end we'll have 3 working in decent shape armors. I've got dibs on the Submachine guns and the varmint rifle though, as well as the map. You boys can have the rest. If thats fine with you?

"The Front", Northern Louisiana

Monet stood up, taking the knife from the dead body beside him and picking up his rifle with his right hand. Looking up at the sky, he could already see the light fading and knew that they were in trouble. Looking back at Urban and Rocky, Monet shook his head as he walked over, kicking the pile of loot into bits as he walked.

"No looting, we don't have any time at all. If we stay and loot, the scent of dead bodies and blood with bring hell upon us. It's not helping since I've just basically lost my left arm for a bit and it's getting dark out." Monet snapped before continuing to walk, slinging his rifle over his right shoulder. "Hurry up or else you guys can talk with the Backcushes and Jengals. And Urban, we'll talk about your trade profession when we get to Saint Jacques."

Continuing to walk, Monet was so pissed off at both himself for getting hurt and Urban for basically straight up lying to them about his occupation. Monet knew about his kind, the slave traders. Bloody bastards were the only things they were. The only thing that the poacher group had told them was how long until Saint Jacques and what Urban's plans were basically were. Whistling for Rocky, Monet turned around and motioned for Rocky to follow him, privately.

Rocky
The Front

The regulator switched the pistol to safe and holstered it making a mental note there were eleven rounds in the clip then ejected the spent magazine from the assault carbine and stowed it in a pouch on his gun belt before removing a fresh one and feeding it in then switching the weapon back to safe and letting it hang from the sling, "At least take the map, but he's right we need to move there will be dozens of predators coming out soon."

He turned and jogged up to the hunter until he was next to him, "What do you need Monet?"

Rocky had never heard the big reveal about the slave collar because he was too preoccupied with watching the actions of the men he would need to be shooting at soon and was currently blissfully unaware of Urban's slave taking predilections.

[SaintB]

It's Crawdaddy brothers and sisters and I'm here with your daily news update baby.

Today's skinny is about Southport's best known gang the Sweethearts. If your brave enough to venture the streets of Vendetta then you should know that the Sweethearts gang are holding their kinda sorta annual mardi gras festival.

"What does mardi gras mean?" Crawdaddy can hear you all asking and Crawdaddy says, "What do you get when you cross an elephant with a rhino? Hell if I know!"

But the important part is that its a massive anonymous party where the guests are invited to wear masks and elaborate costumes and debauch themselves in various ways involving flesh, food, and chems. That sounds like a good time to Crawdaddy but remember to partake only in moderation man, cuz there aint enough fixer for everyone.

Now back to the music.

[Ontorisa]

"The Front", Northern Louisiana

Monet stood up, taking the knife from the dead body beside him and picking up his rifle with his right hand. Looking up at the sky, he could already see the light fading and knew that they were in trouble. Looking back at Urban and Rocky, Monet shook his head as he walked over, kicking the pile of loot into bits as he walked.

"No looting, we don't have any time at all. If we stay and loot, the scent of dead bodies and blood with bring hell upon us. It's not helping since I've just basically lost my left arm for a bit and it's getting dark out." Monet snapped before continuing to walk, slinging his rifle over his right shoulder. "Hurry up or else you guys can talk with the Backcushes and Jengals. And Urban, we'll talk about your trade profession when we get to Saint Jacques."

Continuing to walk, Monet was so pissed off at both himself for getting hurt and Urban for basically straight up lying to them about his occupation. Monet knew about his kind, the slave traders. Bloody bastards were the only things they were. The only thing that the poacher group had told them was how long until Saint Jacques and what Urban's plans were basically were. Whistling for Rocky, Monet turned around and motioned for Rocky to follow him, privately.

Rocky
The Front

The regulator switched the pistol to safe and holstered it making a mental note there were eleven rounds in the clip then ejected the spent magazine from the assault carbine and stowed it in a pouch on his gun belt before removing a fresh one and feeding it in then switching the weapon back to safe and letting it hang from the sling, "At least take the map, but he's right we need to move there will be dozens of predators coming out soon."

He turned and jogged up to the hunter until he was next to him, "What do you need Monet?"

Rocky had never heard the big reveal about the slave collar because he was too preoccupied with watching the actions of the men he would need to be shooting at soon and was currently blissfully unaware of Urban's slave taking predilections.

"The Front", Northern Louisiana

"That trader guy," Monet whispered close to Rocky, glancing back a couple of times. "He's a slave trader. That's how the whole firefight started."

Monet could still remember the group's lead man, advancing, going through the branhim's pack then shouting something about a slav then getting shot. It wasn't helping that Monet was now wounded in his shoulder and could probably only be good with a pistol. But they needed to figure something out to avoid whatever Urban was planning.

"He's planning something. I say, we leave him, let him die out here for being a trader. If not, then we'll let the Saint Jacques law take him in and get some sort of bounty hopefully." Monet looked back for a last time. "Whatever man, just take your time and hurry up. It won't be long before we lose the sun."

[Elerian]

Mayor's Offices, Providence

The Sergeant raised an eyebrow and said "well, then I guess that changes things." He waved his freehand to the nearby guards and they walked forward to stand on either side of Samuel. "We'll be taking you in for questioning then." The Sergeant began walking and the two guards nudged Samuel to follow. The Sargeant tilted his head towards Samuel as he walked and asked "What's your name young man?"

[Kazarogkai]

Arcadia, Bienville Parish, Louisiana
The Bundle of Knives
Warlord Cornelius White

Roll of 77 on a 100 sided dice: moderately-favorable results

Out of my window I saw as some of my forces patrolled the streets of the settlement with rifles in hand and with vigilant eyes. The overall reaction of the populous to the newly implemented martial has been for the most part favorable though there have been a few grumbles here and there. In the past few weeks there has been peace and relative quiet in the village and things are more or less coming back to normal with a few of the people who ran away during the siege even returning. Because of the stability and order of the settlement traders from other villages nearby have become somewhat interested though it will be a while. before this becomes significant. I as of now have designated this settlement as my capital, its good defensive positioning will be a boon to my forces. My recruiting efforts in the south as of now have been successful in gaining me more troops, about a dozen lads and gals(I don't discriminate), though no were near as much needed to replace my losses it will do for now. My General(member of staff) Howard Muse will whip the greenhorns into shape and ready them for action. The potential profits from taxes in the villages and tariffs from traders should be enough to put the edge off of my forces expenses, but I know full well I will need more though before I can call myself a proper Warlord. But I need the troops to be able to do that i have the guns, the staff, and the money to do it I just need more Boots on the ground. I will build up my forces to something more respectable, like say 300 Fighters, then we can talk of going even further than we are already at the moment. Another thing up on the agenda is actually about something outside Arcadia, but related to it. My sentries have spotted small groups of people eying the settlement from afar, when they attempt to see who they are they run off. The civies state that they are tribals from a little ways off that used to harass Arcadia, hence one of the reasons the corrupt former mayor of Arcadia invited the bandits to come and settle in the village in order to stop them. This is something that needs to be addressed soon eventually before it becomes a problem. My staff say a show of force should suffice to drive them off again, But I have thought of another idea though that will be worth trying.

[SaintB]

Rocky
The Front

The regulator switched the pistol to safe and holstered it making a mental note there were eleven rounds in the clip then ejected the spent magazine from the assault carbine and stowed it in a pouch on his gun belt before removing a fresh one and feeding it in then switching the weapon back to safe and letting it hang from the sling, "At least take the map, but he's right we need to move there will be dozens of predators coming out soon."

He turned and jogged up to the hunter until he was next to him, "What do you need Monet?"

Rocky had never heard the big reveal about the slave collar because he was too preoccupied with watching the actions of the men he would need to be shooting at soon and was currently blissfully unaware of Urban's slave taking predilections.

"The Front", Northern Louisiana

"That trader guy," Monet whispered close to Rocky, glancing back a couple of times. "He's a slave trader. That's how the whole firefight started."

Monet could still remember the group's lead man, advancing, going through the branhim's pack then shouting something about a slav then getting shot. It wasn't helping that Monet was now wounded in his shoulder and could probably only be good with a pistol. But they needed to figure something out to avoid whatever Urban was planning.

"He's planning something. I say, we leave him, let him die out here for being a trader. If not, then we'll let the Saint Jacques law take him in and get some sort of bounty hopefully." Monet looked back for a last time. "Whatever man, just take your time and hurry up. It won't be long before we lose the sun."

Rocky

That explained a lot about how he knew about Regulators, "Shit... up near DC there is a place called Paradise Falls. It's Mecca for lowlifes and slave traders that come from all up and down the east coast. Regulators like me hit the trader's caravans all the time to free the slaves and kill them and their guards. That's how he recognized my duster and probably why he was so focused on me with that shotgun of his."

Rocky licked his lips and thought, "You're in no shape for another shootout. We need to move. We take him with, act like nothing is wrong for now. Then I'll get the proof we need and turn him in to whatever passes for an authority in St. Jaques, or at least to shoot him without repercussions." me said in low tones.

[Ontorisa]

"The Front", Northern Louisiana

"That trader guy," Monet whispered close to Rocky, glancing back a couple of times. "He's a slave trader. That's how the whole firefight started."

Monet could still remember the group's lead man, advancing, going through the branhim's pack then shouting something about a slav then getting shot. It wasn't helping that Monet was now wounded in his shoulder and could probably only be good with a pistol. But they needed to figure something out to avoid whatever Urban was planning.

"He's planning something. I say, we leave him, let him die out here for being a trader. If not, then we'll let the Saint Jacques law take him in and get some sort of bounty hopefully." Monet looked back for a last time. "Whatever man, just take your time and hurry up. It won't be long before we lose the sun."

Rocky

That explained a lot about how he knew about Regulators, "Shit... up near DC there is a place called Paradise Falls. It's Mecca for lowlifes and slave traders that come from all up and down the east coast. Regulators like me hit the trader's caravans all the time to free the slaves and kill them and their guards. That's how he recognized my duster and probably why he was so focused on me with that shotgun of his."

Rocky licked his lips and thought, "You're in no shape for another shootout. We need to move. We take him with, act like nothing is wrong for now. Then I'll get the proof we need and turn him in to whatever passes for an authority in St. Jaques, or at least to shoot him without repercussions." me said in low tones.

"The Front, Northern Louisiana

"Yeah, I'll talk with the poachers next time. I'll leave you my rifle and stuff. We aren't taking anymore chances with this guy." Monet looked back one more time before nodding to Rocky. "Alright, let's move quickly. Jengals will be on our asses soon if we stay here."

Monet began to walk away, smiling and acting as if Rocky had told him a joke before waving Urban over with his good arm. Hopefully, Rocky could improvise something since Monet made sure his laugh was loud. Maybe too loud, but anything to keep suspicion away.

[Tayner]

Nightshade Base
Gunny

"Alright men, were a few minutes away from the mercanary base, so weapons tight, when we arrive let Victor, Hugo, and me take care of the business. You all will wait outside, deal?" Gunny said to his dozen mercenaries. He then said to his friends Victor and Hugo" M'kay guys, y'all's gonna need to do the negotiating, or were gonna waste a lot of caps on one guy. I say Hugo does the talking." Gunny wasn't a real good talker in first impressions, and second ones. Or any senecio. He just didn't want to do the talking.

[SaintB]

Rocky

That explained a lot about how he knew about Regulators, "Shit... up near DC there is a place called Paradise Falls. It's Mecca for lowlifes and slave traders that come from all up and down the east coast. Regulators like me hit the trader's caravans all the time to free the slaves and kill them and their guards. That's how he recognized my duster and probably why he was so focused on me with that shotgun of his."

Rocky licked his lips and thought, "You're in no shape for another shootout. We need to move. We take him with, act like nothing is wrong for now. Then I'll get the proof we need and turn him in to whatever passes for an authority in St. Jaques, or at least to shoot him without repercussions." me said in low tones.

"The Front, Northern Louisiana

"Yeah, I'll talk with the poachers next time. I'll leave you my rifle and stuff. We aren't taking anymore chances with this guy." Monet looked back one more time before nodding to Rocky. "Alright, let's move quickly. Jengals will be on our asses soon if we stay here."

Monet began to walk away, smiling and acting as if Rocky had told him a joke before waving Urban over with his good arm. Hopefully, Rocky could improvise something since Monet made sure his laugh was loud. Maybe too loud, but anything to keep suspicion away.

Rocky

He followed Monet's lead and laughed himself then turned toward Urban and walked back up to him, offering him a hand to brace when he tried to stand up, "Your leg going to be ok for a couple miles of forced marching? We need to get out of here before the wildlife wakes up and sniffs out all the blood the two of you are leaking around the wasteland and come for the buffet and we only have so many bullets to keep them at bay with." he said with false sincerity, "Do you need something to lean on and hold your weight?"

[Transoxthraxia]

[Soundtrack: Fort Soissons]

Louisiana. The name was familiar. Was it, perhaps, one of the bastions of old? The Soissons of post-apocalyptic America was a well-fortified complex of structures inhabited by around one hundred and forty people, deep into the wilderness of the overgrown swampland and near-jungle that permeated the old Louisiana. It was named in the likeness of the Soissons of old, the last bastion of the Romans, or so Syagrius had said, and was constructed around an old, overgrown stone quarry. The quarry, which had run until the bombs had dropped, had provided the main resource for the construction of Fort Soissons, and still served as the main storage space for weapons, food, and the bodies that Syagrius had deemed important enough to "keep", as well as the Colosseum. The rest of the complex were mostly buildings made up of quarry rock, wood, and scrap metal that was scavenged from other places, and were mostly barracks-style structures in which people lived, as well as an additional structure for eating and the blacksmith, and a final structure, smaller than the rest, that was the residence of the Magister Utriusque Militae himself. The entire fort was arranged in a haphazard circle around the quarry, and no one building stood out except for the Magister's residence.

The Magister Utriusque Militae of the Comes Danube, simply known as Syagrius, though was born as David Rothschild, sat on his "throne" in his residence. His throne consisted mostly of a large rock that had been dragged into the residence, roughly carved to resemble that of a chair, and given as a gift. The architect of the chair was promptly disemboweled. Syagrius had found the chair uncomfortable. However, he had also deemed it ruler-like, regal, even. Though one was careful to use the term king around Syagrius, lest they find themselves decapitated. Syagrius, as he continually reminded everyone, was not a king, nor a bandit lord. He was the Magister Utriusque Militae of the exiled Comes Danube, and he bore on his shoulders the complete restoration of civilization to its Roman State, gladiatorial games and all.

Normally, one might consider this cause a right one, if not a bit far-fetched. But for an errant psychopath such as Syagrius, his disillusions had led him astray, and, believing himself to be the literal reincarnation of Syagrius, son of Aegidius, and the Last True Roman, his vision of the Roman Civilization was one of brutish backwardness. He had spent too long in the Wilderness, and had begun to despise those that shied away from it, calling them barbarians, and that their form of civilization, that which is not integrated and harmonized with the nature around them, completely invalid. As his power base grew, so did his radical ideas and general violent behavior. For those in the know, the fort and the Comes in general was a hard life; but a good life. As long as Syagrius himself didn't take a disliking to you, you would be fed, you would be given a place to sleep, as long as you were prepared to give back to the community.

The fort was completely self-sustaining. On the scale of Jonestown and the People's Temple, the fort produced its own food, meat, and materials that allowed it to survive and stay afloat in the hostile jungle, techniques that were taught and passed down initially from Syagrius unto his first thirty followers, now referred to as the Legio I. Invictus, and then to others, beginning an oral tradition of survivalism among the members of the Comes Danube.

To his loyalest followers, Syagrius was a God. For others, a King. For even more, he was a Father, a Protector, a Savior from the dark times. But most had not been truly exposed to his dark side. The crippling mental illness that was slowly beginning to consume the man. Each and every day, the man slipped further from the grip of reality and closer into the darkened, comforting madness that had tainted his soul from whence he was just a child. He had begun to talk out loud within his throne room, to no one in particular. If any of his followers were literate, they were sure to have written what he was saying down.

---

"God? I am no God. Would a God have done this? To us, to his followers, to those that he had created? What has been brought upon us is a curse, not by a God, but by men. Evil men. Do not worship me, but instead worship the hatred of the evil men, the barbarians who cling to their steel and their money and their pathetic delusions of power. These so-called civilized folk are nothing but barbarians, men and women and children who must be cleansed off of this Earth, as they remain nothing but a reminder of those who had brought upon the evils in which we now revel in. What must replace them is none other than the civilization of the Romans, one that is entwined with the nature that has been granted to us, an oasis of good in the sea of evil."

"He's talking to himself, isn't he?" Two men stood at the front of the hall of the throne room, facing Syagrius, their backs to the wall, both of them with their arms crossed. One of them, Diesel, who had a long, unkempt silver beard and long hair to match, was often seen as Syagrius' right hand man and one of his few true confidants, though Syagrius had none of those. The other was a middle-aged man with a scruffy face and a neatly trimmed haircut, most notable for his steel-grey eyes. He was simply known as Elias. Both Diesel and Elias had been part of the original thirty members of the Comes Danube, though at the time Elias was only thirteen years old. As they were both a part of the Invictus, they were also some of the most elite of the Comes, and therefore, often lead and policed the rest of the group.

"Talking to himself? He's preaching. Watch your mouth." Diesel said to Elias. "Unless you want it to be forcibly removed from the rest of your body." Diesel added, ominously. Elias simply scoffed. "He wouldn't do that to any of the Invictus."

"Don't seem too surprised. Both of us saw what he did to that kid a few weeks back. Poor thing was screaming for weeks." Diesel said, with no hint of remorse. "Heh, yeah." Elias responded. "You can't feel bad for the kid, though, he was a barbarian. And so was his mother." Diesel nodded quietly as Syagrius kept talking to no one in particular. The two of them had been on guard duty for about four hours now. "True enough. Perhaps they're in a better place now. The barbarians need to be dealt with."

Without noticing that Syagrius had stopped talking, the two guards went on for a little bit, at first, the Magister having raised himself from his throne and begun slowly advancing towards his two guards. Their banter was interrupted by Syagrius' dominating voice much closer to the two of them than expected. "Pretenders." Was all he said. When Syagrius spoke of the Pretenders, he referred to the Caesar's Legion. There was no force that he hated more than the Caesar's Legion. In his own, twisted, fantasy, the Legion were deserters of the Roman cause, whoring themselves out for the pleasures of the hedonistic civilization that exists in the post-apocalyptic world. "They must be cleansed." He went on, apparently oblivious to the fact that he had startled his own guards. "Are we aware of any pretender camps in a close radius?" Diesel was the first to answer, as he was usually in charge of the reconnaissance parties. "None that we've been able to find. So far they've been able to stay relatively clear of our territory." Syagrius nodded for a moment. "We need to go hunt." He uttered, ominously.

---

[Neo-Chicago]

Senior Knight Samuel, Mayor's Office Building

"Samuel. Samuel Miller." he said, extending a hand to be met with only an uncomfortable silence. He began to walk with the two guards, hoping- no, praying that this would work. If it didn't, he suspected that the Gatekeepers would need to get the hell out of Providence. He was just lucky that Jeremiah had only ever told his name to other Gatekeepers, and his features weren't exactly documented. If they had been, the folks of Providence would be waiting outside of the St. Joseph Cathedral.

[SaintB]

Hey man, Crawdaddy is here and its news time!

This bit comes from the border area betwixt Mississippi and Louisiana known as The Front!

A spate of gun battles has broken out in the area north of the village of St. Jaques leaving at least nine dead. While fights between hunters and poachers aren't exactly a rare thing they don't so often lead to casualties and a death toll as big as a small battle is a notable happening.

No leads as to who or what instigated the fights right now but if you wanna know what ol' Crawdaddy is gonna do if he has a need to head up Saint Jaques way, he's gonna bring his shotgun.

[Elerian]

Providence Bridge, Slums

After stopping by a particularly run down shack, Jessie's knock was answered by a haggard old woman. The shack in question had a decent view of the bridge, especially the spot where Ezra was murdered. The old woman must have been at least eighty years of age, if not more, which was a grand feat in the harsh wastelands of Louisiana.

"What do ye want?"

Streets of Providence

The Sergeant grunted in reply to Samuel, and wrote his name in a small booklet. Without another word the Officers led Samuel to the nearest Police building. It wasn't grand like many of the other government buildings nearby, but it served its purpose. The two troopers left Samuel with the Sergeant after they had entered the threshold of the precinct, and were replaced by other troopers who brought him into a small non-descript room with a single table and a handful of chairs. It was the stereotypical police set up, yet quite effective in interrogations. After several minutes another Officer walked into the room and sat down across from Samuel. He set a vocal recording device on the table and hit play.

"This conversation will be recorded, I'm Lieutenant Hayes, now would be the time to tell us what you know about the Mayor's murder."

[Neo-Chicago]

Senior Knight Samuel, Police Station

"Well, I'm a member of a group of vault dwellers from New Orleans, we call ourselves the Gatekeepers. We're mainly an anti-ghoul group, although we dislike all deformed mutants and similar creatures. However, we still resolve our matters involving the 'civilized' ones peacefully. There was a member of our group, Garret Nathaniel, that was what you would probably call a radical." Samuel said, keeping a poker face. "Garret came with the chapter that moved to Providence, and after surveying the streets, he said that we should 'Make those vampire-loving heathens pay, for allowing those monstrosities walk the streets.' He brought this up with the Gatekeepers Council, who promptly denied that we take action against any citizens of Providence, especially those in charge of such rules. The next morning, all of Garret's belongings were gone, almost without a trace. I later asked the others what happened, and one of them told me that 'He left, saying that we were 'too soft' on vampires,'. His rifle was one of the most noticable things missing, and I saw a cigarette, the kind he liked, sitting on the steps of the stairs to the Mayor's Office this morning, crushed into the ground. I bet if I saw the body, I would be able to identify it as him." he told the officer. As he was telling the story, he examined the room, as it was a somewhat abnormal one, in that plants hadn't managed to find their way inside. Samuel took note of this.

[Azaflaza]

Arriving at a shack that had a good view of the bridge, Jessie was greeted by a very elderly woman who looked frail but clearly was strong enough to survive to her age. The woman was quick to question Jessie's intentions so she felt it best to dispense with the niceties and get straight to the point, "I'm investigating the spate of murders that have happened in the last year relating to the providence plugger. The last killing occurred over on the bridge and the victim was the mayors son who was als investigating the killer. Due to your houses' position I thought you might have seen something that would help me?" She eagerly awaited her response...

[Transoxthraxia]

[Soundtrack: The Coming of the Romans]

A Small Agricultural Village
Around a thirty-minute march from Providence

New Hope had to be the name of at least a dozen settlements in Post-Apocalyptic America, and probably scores of small collections of houses bore the name "New Hope". However, this New Hope was different. This was a settlement not too far from the largest city in Post-Apocalyptic Louisiana, and this particular New Hope probably would have fallen into the sphere of influence of the large settlement. And that was precisely why Syagrius had chosen to target the farming village that was hardly scratching out its own living. The reconnaissance team that Syagrius had dispatched to go and watch the village had spotted no more than ten able-bodied men that would be able to effectively resist the Comes Danube. It would piss of Providence, remind them that the Comes are a real threat, and provide more bodies for entertainment in the gladiatorial ring.

The settlement of New Hope was based around a large communal farming field that was tended to by all of the families who would contribute what they could. At the time, one of the founding families' father and son were out working on the field while two others stood guard. The settlement didn't really have a wall or proper defensive structures, however a few of the houses had makeshift roofs where a few troops could stand watch without much realistic protection. As the father drove a Brahmin along the field, he was explaining to his son how to plow the field properly. He appeared probably much older than he really was; the farming life wasn't an easy one. He was mostly bald, but had steel-grey hair and stubble growing in a few places. His son couldn't have been older than ten. "Now, you see, how have to drive the beast on like-" And that was the last thing that he would ever say. A large crack was heard from the hilltop that overlooked the settlement from the West. Syagrius' shot had hit its mark, caving in the back of the man's skull, and splattering blood, bone, and gore forwards into the field. A cackle rolled across the settlement that could only be recognized as Syagrius'. Standing up next to him, having been hidden by lying prone on the other side of the hill were fifteen of the Legio I. Invictus, Syagrius' crack team of raiders. They immediately went to work on the two guards, one of the raiders taking a bullet in the arm, but the guards being dispatched in short order.

The raiders rolled across the settlement like locusts on an Egyptian harvest. As his raiders surged forth, Syagrius shouted orders as he pulled the bolt back on his Hunting Rifle, cycling in the next bullet. "Kill 'em all! Save two of the weakest men. Women and children die!"

---

In fifteen minutes, the fight was over. What little resistance was given was soon silenced by the well-armed, well-disciplined raiders. The women and children were slaughtered, except for the one from the fields. He was grouped in together with the two "weakest" men, one who was fail and sick, and the other who had surrendered rather than resisted. Syagrius stalked among the chaos of the former settlement, to the middle, where five of the raiders had grouped the three survivors. Syagrius slung his Hunting Rifle over his back, before conferring with Diesel, who had accompanied him on the raid. "You're sure this is it?" Diesel nodded, before responding. "It's a small village, but close enough to send a message." Syagrius nodded in agreement, before squatting next to the little boy, who appeared as if he was in shock. He didn't bother addressing the two other survivors just yet. "Was that your daddy, who I shot?" The kid didn't respond for a second, but then nodded. "You're not crying. That's good. Did you know he was evil? He was a bad man. A barbarian, even." The child didn't respond. Syagrius rolled his eyes, before, in one swift motion, pulling out his .32 Revolver and putting one through the kid's head.

The man who had surrendered audibly gasped, a poor move to pull in front of Syagrius, who turned to face the man, holstering his pistol. "Ah yes, the leper and the coward. How am I not surprised that you are the two still alive?" He grabbed the face of the coward, turning it to meet his own. "Do you know who I am?" He asked the man. He was young, with a shaggy five-o-clock shadow and sandy blonde hair. "Y-you're the one they-" He wasn't able to finished his sentence, Syagrius had turned away. "These two are for the gladiator pits. Bring them back with us, along with whatever else you can scavenge." He turned to Diesel. "Get two of your men to decapitate and disembowel the men and women. Give them our signature."

Diesel nodded, calling over three of his own troops.

As the sun set over the former village, twenty two bodies lay decapitated and disemboweled, nailed to their former dwellings, and the Comes Danube set off once more for Fort Soissons.

[Kazarogkai]

Bienville Parish, Louisiana
The Bundle of Knives
Warlord Cornelius White

Tribals

Was the answer to the question of the day that had been plaguing the minds of many that day. This had in general been a question, one with a simple answer none the less, that had been on the minds of many for a while now. They were a crafty sort staying in the shadows not being particularly all that conspicuous. They probed me, sending in small parties to steal and harass my civies and get out quick before we knew what was up. They were a nuisance, like ants, and were getting on my nerves. I decided that they, like bugs, should be crushed. There were many ways to go about this and the way I chose was not the only way that could have worked, but at the time I decided upon it so it is irrelevant about what could have been.

This was my problem, this band had been a slippery bunch and knew this land well. I also did not have much intel on where exactly their home was which is a problem. The way I solved both was actually kinda simple honestly. As someone once said to me "If you have a problem get someone else to solve I for you." Though I had rarely followed such advice now I found it to be applicable for the situation. There was a small village nearby by the name of Little Creek situated near a little creek as it's name would imply. They were tribals for all intents and purposes but they were sedentary, having small garden plots and some pastureland for various grazing animals. But what was important about them was that they had a little feud with one of are tribal neighbors, specifically the ones who were harassing my settlement of Arcadia. I came to them offering them a simple solution to are collective problem. Tell me where the Enemy tribe, known as the Rat-Eaters, main camp was and I would provide the muscle to "deal" with them, I even gave them 2 cows to sweeten it a little. They offered to me to have a few of their scouts to lead me to where the Rat-Eater camp was, which was all that I really needed. So as such I gathered up a small war band of about 30 of my militants led by me to go and do the deed. Mind you I kept a captain of mine along with some troops nearby to Little-Creek as a precaution just in case they tried to double cross me.

So as such me and my merry band along with the Little-Creek scouts went along are way and made are way through a rather thick and foreboding forest. Maybe it was the way the scouts acted or a base intuition but I eventually realized that this was a little set up, though that their were so few men at the Little Creek village also probably contributed to my suspicions. They probably wanted to lead me to the waiting Rat-Eaters into a large ambush in a designated spot or kill zone and get rid of me. But I am smarter than to fall for such base tricks so as such I Had my men restrain the scouts and "interrogate" and found out only one of the scouts was in on it the others were slated to be killed by the Rat-Eaters upon arrival to the destination as they were a threat to the chiefs rule. That and the chief wanted one of the guys wives. So as such I with my knife slit the offending scouts throat and offered the other scouts the opportunity to help me in exchange I would let them be. They offered to lead me to the Rat-Eaters camp and attack it from a safe direction. So as such we went and rather than coming from the east as was expected of us we came from the west and utterly surprised the Rat-Eater camp and the Little Creek warriors who had been stationed there to assist and we were able to for the most part wipe it out.

The camp had been surrounded by a nice little stockade of sorts that was rather easily hopped over and compromised. I kept most my my militants back and sent a small strike team to attack the camp and lay waste to it which they did in a rather quiet and grim matter cutting down those who stood in their way. In this way we enticed the enemy to leave their previous positions and come home to save their village. My strike team left the moment they heard the enemy was returning and in this way we lured them into an ambush that allowed us to wipe out most of their warriors with only a handful being able to escape. Afterwards I left the camp and made my way back to are original destination of Little creek with the Little Creek scouts in tow. I returned to my captain and his small band and we launched an attack against the village quickly forcing their surrender. Only the chief and a few guardsmen in his longhouse were all that remained in terms of opposition and we had them completely surrounded. I let the scouts and their families leave as thanks for aiding my band and then set a plan into motion to force the chief and his guards out. We set up a few bonfires nearby feeding them with old tires and wet wood so that they would produce large amounts of smoke, after that we fanned with smoke so that it would go to the longhouse. This smoked the Chief and his troops out who were quickly cut down unceremoniously. As a way to set a message I took the remaining villagers and massacred half of them, forcing the remaining half to berry their comrades and then scatter in all the directions so that they would carry word of what had occurred here. subsequently I set the village to the torch and looted the animals and food and medicine and any other valuables taking them with us, we marched home like conquering heroes and using are loot I made sure that the people of Arcadia would have a feast and gave farm animals as gifts to them like a proper patron.

The scouts and their families because of the losing of their home and having nowhere else to go came to my settlement and asked to join which I allowed, more civilians to pay tribute to me Is all I can say. They quickly integrated into the Settlement of Arcadia without much word and with little complaint or issue.

[Elerian]

Council Chambers, Providence
The Following day

The Marshal and all the members of the council sat at their usual spots around the round table. Many looked as though they hadn't gotten much sleep after the slaying of the Mayor, yet they were present, and ready to get down to business. The Marshal stood and addressed those present as he always had.

"It seems trouble has found us again. I received a report not twenty minutes ago that a band of organized raiders has struck a town under our protection. New Hope was massacred by the raider group called The Comes Danube. They left their signature of sorts on the bodies before they left. However, there was a survivor, a young boy who saw the whole thing unfold from in the woods nearby." The Marshal paused for a few moments to let what he'd said sink in. "I think we need to take more actions in combating the threats within and outside our own walls. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated." The Marshal sat back down in his seat and let any of the councilors take the floor.

Councilor O'Brian stood almost immediately. "I suggest we broker a temporary ceasefire with Defiance. That was we can find this damn Plugger, apprehend whoever killed the Mayor, and purge these thrice damnable raiders. We're being bled dry here people. We don't have the resources to pursue all these problems when we already are throwing most everything we have at Defiance." And with that he sat down to let the councilors decide.

They talked among themselves for a few moments before the Marshal stood and spoke again. “So it seems we are in need of another vote. All those in favor of the truce say aye.”

Sokarus
I-10

Sokar followed the robot. He didn’t have anything better to do. But Sokar didn’t really know if he could help Sawbones either. There would likely be a handful of repairmen in Providence, but Sokar didn’t have very much money, certainly not enough to pay for the delicate handywork of an electrician, or whoever would have the skill to repair Sawbones’ faulty hardware. Regardless, Sokar continued walked with the Dog and Sawbones towards Providence not know what was in store.

Providence Police Precinct
Lieutenant Hayes

Hayes took notes on a small notepad as Samuel told his story. It didn’t match up with the stories of several of the Mayor’s guards, and the Secretary. They had said the murderer in question had been followed by a half dozen other men and woman, and from their perspective, the murderer had been the group’s leader. So, Hayes’ brow furrowed more and more as the Samuel’s story went on. When Samuel was done, Hayes looked up from his notes and looked Samuel up and down.

When he was done, Hayes spoke, “you know, your story doesn’t match that of several other, more trustworthy witnesses. I’d suggest you be more truthful next time we meet.” Hayes stood and walked to the door. After opening it, he paused and turned back to Samuel, “you’d best get comfy, you’re not leaving here anytime soon, if ever.” With that he left the dimly lit room and walked to a pair of guards and told them to bring Samuel to a cell.

Providence Slums

The frail old woman looked around at the streets behind Jessie. Once she seemed satisfied, the lady ushered Jessie inside her shack. It was surprisingly clean for a house in the slums. The lady brought Jessie to a table and had her sit as she grabbed pot of black coffee and poured them both a cup.

“It’s not safe saying that name round here. Most of the victims been taken from the slums.” The lady took a sip from the coffee before continuing. “Plugger’s a cannibal, took the heart right outta that poor boy off that bridge you was talkin’ bout. But it wadn’t just one of the bastards, there was two of em. One that pushed the boy off the bridge, nother that took his heart out. Then they crossed that there bridge outta town.”

Backwoods of Hellenia
Alexander the Reborn

Alexander deemed the tribals he’d defeated, worthy of enlightenment. He sent an armed band of men to bring those that remained back to Hellenia. While they did that, Alexander took another party out to see if he could find any more Heathens. He’d already come across a handful of bandits, preying upon the weak that went along the Interstate that led to Providence. The hunters had become the hunted that day, Alexander and his men had slaughtered half the raiders before they even got the chance to return fire, but by then there were too few left to make any real difference. Those that survived scattered, likely headed to the cesspool of Vendetta.

Alexander had their corpses staked along the road as testament to any who would turn brigand. Alexander knew it would do little to stop the other Bandit that plagued the forests near Hellenia, but eventually he would make the rivers run red with their blood, and never again would they threaten him or his people. But to do that, he would need to subjugate the tribals. Alexander knew of a dozen tribes near Hellenia, but so far he’d only been able to destroy two of them. Soon, however, he would be able to say he’d destroyed three . . .

[SaintB]

Chaos! Havoc! Murder! Crawdaddy's sources have told him about a bandit raid on the sleepy hamlet of New Hope and its not good at all brothers and sisters.

A band of nasty raiders calling themselves Comes Danube assaulted the entire village and either killed or enslaved the entire population save for one small boy who was out gathering pine cones in the woods. Those who weren't enslaved were disembowled and decapitated and maybe even some other things...

So if you see a bunch of raiders who refer to themselves as legionaires you should keep your head down and stay well clear of them because these cats, they are pretty much unhinged.

Their boss is a cat calling himself Syagrius and CJ has a message for him. Mr. Syagrius, you done upset ol' Crawdaddy baby.

[Neo-Chicago]

Senior Knight Samuel, Police Precinct

As he was being dragged away, he told the man "You know, before he left us, he had quite a reputation. There's about 180 of us in total, and 6 or 7 people left with Garret from what I gathered asking the other Knights. We can help you fight the creatures that inhabit the swamps around your town!" he shouted, trying to get the man's attention. "Wait, wait, I'll tell you the truth if you just listen to me!" he yelled, literally grabbing the walls of the doorway. "Just please don't arrest me." Samuel said to the man. He had always been weak in situations such as this.

Senior Knight Matthias, St. Joseph Cathedral

The Gatekeepers had loaded all of their belongings, as well as many of the items that were contained in the cathedral, onto the SS. Natchez, and were preparing to leave if trouble began. Samuel had been late, and was supposed to have returned an hour ago.
"If we see trouble on the horizon, we must be prepared to evacuate Providence. These people are inhospitable, I just hope that Samuel can convince the men he's speaking to that the Gatekeepers mean no harm to them." Senior Knight Sarah told Matthias and the others.

[Azaflaza]

Listening to the woman's story, jessie became more and more aware that this case was becoming increasingly disturbing and with the news that this was a double act made it more dangerous for her to pursue. But none of the less, she wouldn't be the only bounty hunter hunter out looking for these bastards so they had their work cut out for them. She decided the best plan of action would be to track them down to their current location.

"God damn, these guys are insane. It's always the poor that the sadistic of society target. Tell me, where does that bridge lead to? Where did the killers head to?"