Fallout: Louisiana Blues | IC | Closed and Dead |

[Prusslandia]

Providence. The squalor and the muck of the place fills my heart with malice and dread. What once was a settlement that was synonymous with hope and civilization now reflects neither concept, which is a great disparity for the people that are enslaved within the city. When my legions march through the streets of the city, the citizens shall know no slavery, no fear, and certainly no death. Perhaps the reason in which I am so intent on slaughtering the innocent of Providence is to send a message to the leaders of the city that they shall know the fear and slavery and barbarism that they impose on those that they rule over. Those that they rule, they may adhere to the barbaric tendencies of their masters, but only because they are forced, only because they have no knowledge of the true civilization. I, even now, am planning my liberation. The fools in charge of Providence have done well to underestimate our force for too long

---

Syagrius was busy writing his memoirs when Diesel knocked on the Magister's door. Entering after an auditory confirmation of allowance, the experienced legionary reported the newest findings to his overlord. "Magister, there are a number of things that need to be told to you. Our raid on the settlement, it was ineffective. From what I've noticed, there has been no visual response from the city itself. The only real reaction are more serious efforts from other settlements to fortify themselves." The aging bandit paused, to allow his master to take in what he had said, before continuing. "And, furthermore, we have three new recruits. They heard of the Fort, and I guess they were lacking protection and food elsewhere, so they've agreed to join the Comes and the Fort, a man and a woman, both relatively good combat stock." Syagrius nodded, somewhat frustrated by Providence's lack of a response, nodded.

"Do you remember, Diesel, the two that we took from the settlement?" Diesel nodded, even though Syagrius was still bent over his desk, writing, a skill which Diesel lacked. "Of course." Syagrius stood, and turned. "Are they still alive?" Diesel thought for a moment. "I think the coward is. The other one died. But the coward is." Syagrius nodded, before stepping towards his aide-de-camp. "Have him thrown into the Coliseum until he can fight no longer. I wish to know how long he could possibly last. Also, I wish for some entertainment? Fetch the clown, I'll await on my throne."

Chuckles lightly applied the paint to his face, ever so slowly. Putting down the brush, he looked at his face, now covered in clown makeup. Smiling in success, he looked at his cracked mirror and saw one of Sygarius's guards standing there. Diesel, he believed the brute was called. " The Magister wishes for entertainment. " Lightly clapping, Chuckles grabbed his duffle bag, and sifted through it. His brow squeezed together in frustration, he looked for the item. After a moment, he chuckled in relief, and reached under the faces, and grasped the item that Sygarius was always entertained by. Hand puppets. Meandering past Diesel, Chuckles quickly set up the hand puppet stage, and began the play of sorts. It was one of Sygarius's favorites, a tale of a puppy that got lost in the woods, and was found by it's owner, adn then proceeded to maul its owner.

[Neo-Chicago]

Jacob, The Haven Broadcast

"Hello, wasteland. I, um... I just got word from Providence. We sent a scout up there and it... it... it appears that Jeremiah's been killed. I don't know what to say, honestly. You just never see things like this coming. On top of that, the General has been bitten by a gutter. I suppose God works in mysterious ways, and He's just... He has His reasons, whatever they may be, they are for the greater good. Well, hopefully I can find an appropriate song... I'll be right back."
"Found one! Well, probably not the best song for this scenario, but hey, the name matches the Haven's."

Scout Daniel, Baton Rouge Bayou

"Asshole, leaving me out here while he returns to the Haven by himself. What the hell is the point of me staying out here? 'Keeping reconnaissance in order'? That's not even a job!" complained Daniel, as he sifted through some empty bottles of Nuka-Cola. "Jackpot!" he exclaimed, finding a full bottle. He popped off the cap, pocketed it, and downed almost half the bottle. He didn't believe that garbage about crazy inbreds out in the swamps. How the hell would they have survived outside of a vault? The nearest detonations had been in Atchafalaya and Lake Maurepas. Even if they had managed to stay in the swamps, there were those crazy as shit gutter things, and those weird swamp monsters that looked like trees. Daniel turned on the radio sitting by the campfire he had set up the previous night.
"I just got word from Providence. We sent a-"
"-.-. --.- -.-. --.- -.-. --.- -.. . -... . --. ..- -.. . . -- .-. --. .--. .-.. ... -.-. -.- -. .-- -.-"
"What the hell? Bleep bloop bleep bloop bleep bleep... what the hell is that nonsense? Guess something's interfering with the signal." he stated, unaware of just what that message was. "Wait, maybe that's morse code." he realized, after the signal repeated itself. He quickly scrawled the message on a spare piece of paper, after listening it over several times, since it was just repeating. "Damn, I don't know morse code." Daniel realized, after having written the message down. He actually did know very little morse code, and began to write out what he could translate on a piece of paper:
"-.-. --.- -.-. --.- -.-. --.- -.. E -... E --. ..- -.. E E M .-. --. .--. .-.. S -.-. -.- -. .-- -.-"
"I'll show this to Mark when he gets back here, he'll know some more than I do." he reasoned.

Senior Knight Matthias, SS Natchez

The Natchez had been sailing smoothly. The radio was playing the Haven Broadcast. Matthias listened intently to discover that scouts had been sent up to Providence, which wasn't good. Well, it wasn't good for the scouts, anyway. For the past hour or so, they had been traveling at 31 miles per hour. It was then that a jolt sent Matthias and a few other Gatekeepers sprawling.
"Agh, what the hell was that?!?" Matthias yelled, and was only answered by a horrible screeching sound. "A few of you go down below deck, see what the hell happened!" he ordered.
After about a minute of silence, an alarmed cry rang out, with the words "Sir! We slammed into something, and we're taking on water fast!"
"Damn it... use the buckets to bail water out as fast as you can! I'll try to steer her somewhere safe." he responded. "Hey, engine room! Go faster!" he yelled.
"I can't! I'm giving her all she's got, captain!" a knight shouted back, from below deck.
"I don't care, damn it! We can't afford to continue at a speed this slow!" Matthias told the knight. Another jolt came, and a scream directed his attention to the port side of the riverboat.
"Matthias! There's... OH DEAR GOD, IT'S A GUTTER!" cried Abraham from the river. He had been leaning over the deck when the second jolt came, and had tumbled into the Mississippi. A terrible sound of the ripping of flesh followed, and the Mississippi River turned red momentarily. "Matt... Matthias, I'm... I'm okay.." he affirmed, with a tone of voice almost like that of a whisper. The gutter had retreated to the shore for some reason, and Abraham became nothing more than a stream of bubbles, as he drowned. The Natchez was still going strong, and had passed up a beach that would have been opportune.
"I can't bail anymore, Matthias! She's just filling up to fast!" announced one of the men below deck.
"Better hope this works, then." Matthias said in reply. He veered left, nearly slamming into the riverbank. Two large pieces of metal were in the river around him as he passed under a surprisingly intact bridge. The stern of the riverboat was beginning to sink noticeably, and he steered the ship directly into a large stretch of gravel beach.
"Jere- ...Matthias, what the hell is your problem?" asked Sarah, confused and frustrated. The ship was now mostly beached, and water trickled out of its sides.
"We need to make repairs, and those large pieces of metal that were probably a gateway before or something would be a great help. We wouldn't have been able to keep that boat above the water for much longer, anyway. We can probably push her back out into the river if we needed to." answered Matthias, politely ignoring the mistake Sarah made. He wished he had kept that pack of cigarettes.

General Isaac, The Haven of St. Louis

"MMMFFFFFFF!" Isaac cried out, the sock stuffed in his mouth. The shishkebab was alight, and had begun to saw through the leg.
"This way," one of the Haven's doctors said, "we can cauterize the wound WHILE we're cutting!"
"MMMMMMMMMMMFFFFFFF!!!" he screamed further, covering the sock in spit. The shishkebab had reached bone at that point.
"You'd better hope like hell that your leg doesn't get infected... or worse, the poison's already gotten further through your system." Dr. Fisher responded, which didn't exactly calm Isaac. Fisher had induced coagulation of the blood in the leg, though, so he didn't expect the poison to have traveled out of it.
"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM MY FUCKING GOD!!!" Isaac howled, spitting the sock out. Dr. Fisher had begun to hack at the leg, because a particularly tricky bit of skin had still managed to cling to the rest of Isaac's body.
"Sorry we didn't have any anesthetics, they're pretty tricky to get a hold of. Hey, you wanna keep this as a souvenir?" the doctor joked, waving the now completely severed leg in Isaac's face, who was not particularly amused. "Yeah, I kind of figured." he added. Dr. Fisher had now finished wrapping the bloody stump in gauze. He unzipped the unmodified hazmat suit he had been using for the operation, and hung it on the hook that was directly adjacent to the door. Adjusting his glasses, he looked directly at Isaac, who had actually passed out from the pain. "Now, where to mount this..."

Matt Shaw, Barksdale AFB

The Air Force Base was in the Bossier Parish. This information was irrelevant, considering all political borders were destroyed alongside most of those who ruled over said borders. The forests that had reclaimed much of Barksdale's airfield seemed to prove this, in a sick sort of way. Matt had found that rabbits tended to hide in the fuselages of ruined jets that the trees had grown around, and occasionally through. Foxes made for good eating as well, he had learned. He carried the animals he had hunted in a large sack before he hung them up an skinned them.
"Boom, headshot!" he yelled, chuckling as he bagged a rabbit. Although it was concealed by a thin layer of soil, the runway was still beneath most of the forest. Although his outburst scared away several animals, the gunshot did as well so it was of no concern. It was surprising that most of the animals in the forest were unmutated, especially so since the AFB was a high-profile target for a nuclear attack. Perhaps it was because several had been deflected, and the only ones that struck in the base were highly inconsequential. The base was ridiculously large, and the forest even more so. Matt pried open the windshield of a fighter jet that had been burrowed into by something. Realizing what the sleeping creature within was, Matt switched to his heavier weapon, the assault carbine. After a well-placed string of shots to the face, the boar went down.
"Jackpot!" he exclaimed, stowing the creature into the sack. He had only nabbed about four boars in the past year or so, as they were especially rare. "Guess who's having bacon tonight..." Matt added, licking his lips. He was immensely glad that the frier in the mess hall was still in working order. It was then that he decided to finish hunting for the day. The sun began to descend, and night was already coming. Eventually, the trees turned to stumps, and finally he reached the point where the tarmac was once again visible. He headed over to the helter-skelter office, where the radio was playing a moderately-paced tune being played by a trumpet. Matt put his weapons back on the rack, and went outside, where he hung the animals he had hunted. Yes, all in a days work indeed.

[SaintB]

snip

Saint Jacques, "The Front", Northern Louisiana

Hearing the sounds of his people, Monet eagerly moved forward towards the brightly lit up town, to the sounds of people he knew. They mostly spoke Cajun French here, however, that was fine with Monet as it made no difference to him as long as it didn't kill him. Stepping into the small town, he was soon lost in the small maze of houses as people glanced out of their shacks' windows to look at him before closing them again. The people who were out, were armed with hunting rifles, pistols and shotguns, nodding their heads to Monet and acknowledging him but keeping their eyes on Rocky and Urban.

OOC: Very short post. Sorry.

Rocky

The people of St. Jaques were polite but aloof and cold but he didn't blame them for that. He was a stranger here from a strange far away land and not exactly lightly armed. From snippets of conversation he heard he spoke a different language than many of them too which wouldn't help ingratiate himself very much, best just to return the polite aloofness and take care of his business, then get out of The Front as soon as possible. First stop was the small old world building that served as a general surgery and clinic here in town for Monet and Urban to get their wounds looked after then to find some food and lodging for the night, "You get patched up, I'll take care of that thing," he cryptically referred to Urban's collection of slave collars, "And find a place for us to put up for the night, is there a place like that?"

Rocky's stomach growled, "And please tell me that it has good food."

[Tayner]

Gunny Smith

Gunny and his mercanaries had been walking down the road, with Vendetta in sight. They had hired a few caravaners to tag along. But one of the caravan guards died and a merchant lost a few toes. They were about 120 yards away from the town when a bandit ran out of the bushes holding a machete above his head. Gunny pulled out his 10mm pistol and shot him in the head. Then a few more ran out of the tree line. One managed to kill a mercanary, before getting mowed down by a volley of assault rifle fire. The rest perished within a few seconds. When they finaly reached Vendetta their numbers were:

74 men. ( Not including charters)

Three caravan guards.
two caravaners.
14 of Hudson's men.
55 nightshade mercaneries.

[Chrysaor]

Outside Vendetta

Victor, Hugo and Gunny stood over a map of Vendetta drawn in the sand. Twigs and little pebbles marked out gates, buildings and other features. A young Nightshade merc, born and bred in Vendetta, was busy at work describing the town, the criminals that occupied it, anything, everything.

The rush of bloodlust and anticipation in the air was almost palpable. This felt familiar, Hugo thought…sieging profligates’ stronghold. His experience doing such things could be useful now. But unlike sieging a cannibal tribe or some backwater incestuous clan, this time they were outnumbered. This time they faced a city full of thugs with guns. It should be fun at least.

“So are we doing this Legion style, people?” Hugo asked no one in particular. “Who wants to volunteer sending in those folks an ultimatum? Anyone? No one?”

“And let’s go over the attack plan one more time, Vic.” He turned to the soldier. “My memory is failing me again.”

[Tayner]

Outside Vendetta

Victor, Hugo and Gunny stood over a map of Vendetta drawn in the sand. Twigs and little pebbles marked out gates, buildings and other features. A young Nightshade merc, born and bred in Vendetta, was busy at work describing the town, the criminals that occupied it, anything, everything.

The rush of bloodlust and anticipation in the air was almost palpable. This felt familiar, Hugo thought…sieging profligates’ stronghold. His experience doing such things could be useful now. But unlike sieging a cannibal tribe or some backwater incestuous clan, this time they were outnumbered. This time they faced a city full of thugs with guns. It should be fun at least.

“So are we doing this Legion style, people?” Hugo asked no one in particular. “Who wants to volunteer sending in those folks an ultimatum? Anyone? No one?”

“And let’s go over the attack plan one more time, Vic.” He turned to the soldier. “My memory is failing me again.”

"If we are offering an ultimatum, I'll offer it. But I'm gonna need some guys with guns to prove I'm serous. We could go in there and hire as many mercanaries as we can. We got a hundred caps from looting raiders. And can make more selling their gear. We could do scavenging runs in old abandoned buildings for more caps. But we don't need to. " Gunny said to Hugo. "Your not the only one with bad memory. I can't even remember what I ate last night." Gunny said jokingly. He then turned to Victor and waited.

[Fascist Russian Empire]

Victor Robinson,
Outskirts of Morgan City

"The plan is rather simple: We split up into two even groups, and advance on the city in a pincer movement, hitting them from two sides. To deal with each of the petty gangs we come across, we will give them a straightforward offer; submit to the Enclave, recognize the Enclave's acquisition of the city, and assist in Morgan City's annexation and occupation, or be destroyed. Any group that accepts can be thrown onto the front lines; any group that refuses is to be slaughtered to the last man, leaving absolutely no survivors. We need to send a very firm message about what happens to enemies of the Enclave; it might seem harsh, but it takes a firm hand to deliver a firm message. Besides, the city's population is basically nothing but criminals and deviants, anyway; the entire city could be wiped off the map and nothing of value would be lost. Both groups will advance to the city center, hopefully with their ranks bolstered a little with the addition of subjugated gangs. After that, both groups will split into several smaller groups and begin seizing strategic points across the city and mopping up any further resistance. At that point, with the strategically valuable targets of the city under Enclave control and with most of the gangs dealt with, the city should be our undisputed territory and we should face few more threats to our authority." Victor explained, again, to Hugo and Gunny.

"We might be pretty heavily outnumbered, but do not think numbers equal odds. Those of you well versed in history might be familiar with a certain Oda Nobunaga, one of the biggest forces contributing to the unification of Japan who, vastly outnumbered, seized Kyoto and toppled the Ashikaga Shogunate, setting the foundation for his successors to unify the warring states of Japan. Or, if Asian history isn't your specialty, perhaps you will be familiar with Arminius, the German tribal chieftain who crushed the Romans in the battle of the Teutoburg Forest and drove Rome out of Germania while outnumbered and fighting a superior fighting force. There have been numerous instances of decisive victories occurring against significantly larger forces, and this will be no different. I have the utmost confidence that this city of bandits and raiders will fall. Now, enough dilly-dallying, it's time for battle; it's of the utmost importance that the city fall as quickly as possible, and that we get this done quickly. We need to neutralize the local syndicates as a threat and secure the city as soon as possible, because if we allow them even the slightest bit of time to recuperate and get prepared for a fight against us, things will become significantly more difficult for us. Do any of you have tactical experience? It's important to know who to appoint as the commander of the second attack group; I will personally lead the first." Victor followed up.

[Tayner]

Victor Robinson,
Outskirts of Morgan City

"The plan is rather simple: We split up into two even groups, and advance on the city in a pincer movement, hitting them from two sides. To deal with each of the petty gangs we come across, we will give them a straightforward offer; submit to the Enclave, recognize the Enclave's acquisition of the city, and assist in Morgan City's annexation and occupation, or be destroyed. Any group that accepts can be thrown onto the front lines; any group that refuses is to be slaughtered to the last man, leaving absolutely no survivors. We need to send a very firm message about what happens to enemies of the Enclave; it might seem harsh, but it takes a firm hand to deliver a firm message. Besides, the city's population is basically nothing but criminals and deviants, anyway; the entire city could be wiped off the map and nothing of value would be lost. Both groups will advance to the city center, hopefully with their ranks bolstered a little with the addition of subjugated gangs. After that, both groups will split into several smaller groups and begin seizing strategic points across the city and mopping up any further resistance. At that point, with the strategically valuable targets of the city under Enclave control and with most of the gangs dealt with, the city should be our undisputed territory and we should face few more threats to our authority." Victor explained, again, to Hugo and Gunny.

"We might be pretty heavily outnumbered, but do not think numbers equal odds. Those of you well versed in history might be familiar with a certain Oda Nobunaga, one of the biggest forces contributing to the unification of Japan who, vastly outnumbered, seized Kyoto and toppled the Ashikaga Shogunate, setting the foundation for his successors to unify the warring states of Japan. Or, if Asian history isn't your specialty, perhaps you will be familiar with Arminius, the German tribal chieftain who crushed the Romans in the battle of the Teutoburg Forest and drove Rome out of Germania while outnumbered and fighting a superior fighting force. There have been numerous instances of decisive victories occurring against significantly larger forces, and this will be no different. I have the utmost confidence that this city of bandits and raiders will fall. Now, enough dilly-dallying, it's time for battle; it's of the utmost importance that the city fall as quickly as possible, and that we get this done quickly. We need to neutralize the local syndicates as a threat and secure the city as soon as possible, because if we allow them even the slightest bit of time to recuperate and get prepared for a fight against us, things will become significantly more difficult for us. Do any of you have tactical experience? It's important to know who to appoint as the commander of the second attack group; I will personally lead the first." Victor followed up.

"Quality over quantity, right?" Gunny said. "But I was thinking about a Blitzkreig assault. Put some snipers on roofs, and charge their weak points. I'm shure you know about the German tactic. About how they used it to take over Europe rapidly. Did you know that Blitzkreig means 'Lightning War'? I read it in an old book. World War Two they called it."

[Kazarogkai]

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

Pyrrhic Victory

That is how the great Pyrrhus of Epirus described his twin victories at the battles of Heraclea and Asculum during his war that he waged against Rome, so can be said of my victory. My enemy was devastated and had suffered almost irreparable losses which made it a victory. But there were factors in that battle that rendered it Pyrrhic. The first would have to do with my own forces who had suffered large losses and would have to spend time recruiting more forces to rebuild. With the death of so many of my veterans the new greenhorns would only further dilute the combat strength and capabilities of my forces and as one would expect the overall performance of my forces would begin to suffer. Luckily I had strong officers who would hopefully make up for this, but this could only be determined over time if this would be fact or fiction. As a result of my army being based almost entirely on individual experience and lacking organized training for new recruits this made it so that they would have to more or less fend for themselves. This was fine back in the early days when my army was principally composed of grizzled old mercenaries with years if not decades of experience to work with. But now that system was beginning to show it's fault as the old guard died out and new men took their places. I have principally relied on my staff to recruit men from the southern portions of the state where the local stock would be far more useful, especially with their experience in firearms. Many of the locals hear had barely any experience in even seeing a firearm let alone using them which reduced their overall effectiveness and this would have to be addressed. I came up with a more or less temporary solution until a more permanent and formal solution could be set up over time. This would rely heavily on the 2 man Units within my forces known as Bunk-Groups. These Bunk-Groups were the most basic of my military formations and were the building blocks more or less of all higher units. Before my little reform it was typically chosen on an individual level but from that day forward it would be chosen with experience in mind rather than personal choice. Under the principal of one Vet for one Green, my Veteran soldiers would from now on when on campaign be pared with a Greenhorn functioning as a sort of mentor to the less experienced recruit and teaching them the ways better. This system was set up in hopes that Greenhorns would when paired with a Veteran to guide them would learn more quickly and overall perform better in combat with someone who will check up on them. This was not a perfect nor permanent solution but it was easy and simple to implement so would have to do for now until a more effective system could be put in place.

The second and factor that had rendered the battle Pyrrhic again had to do with my troops, specifically my plans for said troops. I had wished to build up my forces to allow me to attempt a siege of the settlement of Gibsland. It was a comparably prosperous settlement in comparison to Arcadia's relative poverty, and would of been a formidable target to have to face. Because of the Montou's massive and rather unexpected offensive upon my lands the result was I would have to wait even longer and build up my forces once more to even think of attempting my plan. The forces I had before the Offensive were not enough to have made an attempt possible let alone now, so as such it would be a very long wait indeed. But as a result of the Montou's losses in the previous engagement this did leave me plenty of time to rebuild my troops, I still had better weapons and the means by which to rebuild my losses unlike the Montou more than likely.

Though related to the second and to a degree the third factors it was unique in it's own right and had to do with my ally the Whispers. Their tribe was a small one and the losses they suffered in the Battle were rather horrific on them overall. They had few warriors left and without direct support from me were right now not much of a viable tribe capable of defending itself from the horrors of war. I would have to find a solution to that problem and that would more than likely involve me simply annexing them into my domain formally as Civilians rather than subject peoples of mine. The result would be they would not really b able to provide me direct auxiliaries like before but that could be made up for with the tax revenue they would from that point on provide to my coffers. Though I did have a large number of civilians I didn't have enough to really provide a large enough tax source to make up for all of my losses and had to rely heavily on what I had already bought, which was considerable mind you but in the end finite. I was hoping with the conquest of Gibland that I would be able to finally become financially solvent and capable of running my own affairs free of that worry, but as they say there is no rest for the weary. At least I didn't have to worry about investors or the like for that would be horrible, done that and never want to deal with it again if I can in my entire life. At least as a result of the current losses it cut down my expenses to a degree so that is a silver lining of sorts.

[Ontorisa]

Saint Jacques, "The Front", Northern Louisiana

Hearing the sounds of his people, Monet eagerly moved forward towards the brightly lit up town, to the sounds of people he knew. They mostly spoke Cajun French here, however, that was fine with Monet as it made no difference to him as long as it didn't kill him. Stepping into the small town, he was soon lost in the small maze of houses as people glanced out of their shacks' windows to look at him before closing them again. The people who were out, were armed with hunting rifles, pistols and shotguns, nodding their heads to Monet and acknowledging him but keeping their eyes on Rocky and Urban.

OOC: Very short post. Sorry.

Rocky

The people of St. Jaques were polite but aloof and cold but he didn't blame them for that. He was a stranger here from a strange far away land and not exactly lightly armed. From snippets of conversation he heard he spoke a different language than many of them too which wouldn't help ingratiate himself very much, best just to return the polite aloofness and take care of his business, then get out of The Front as soon as possible. First stop was the small old world building that served as a general surgery and clinic here in town for Monet and Urban to get their wounds looked after then to find some food and lodging for the night, "You get patched up, I'll take care of that thing," he cryptically referred to Urban's collection of slave collars, "And find a place for us to put up for the night, is there a place like that?"

Rocky's stomach growled, "And please tell me that it has good food."

Saint Jacques, "The Front", Northern Louisiana

"Monet, est-que c'est toi?*" Monet heard from one of the shacks to his right as he looked over.

Peaking out from the window was a small little girl, who couldn't have been older than ten years old. She appeared to be in awe seeing Monet as Monet smiled at her.

"Cynthia! Get back in here! What did I say about talking to-" A woman could be heard from inside as a relatively attractive woman appeared in the window grabbing the small girl before she looked at Monet. "Oh Jesus Christ, Desire?"

"Hey Zoe." Monet smiled at the woman as she let go of the little girl.

"Oh my god, get in here. Where the fu- er- hell have you been?" The woman named Zoe spoke quickly before lowering her voice. "C'est actuallement toi. Oh mon dieu.**"

"Oui, c'est moi, Monet. Je vis Zoe.***" Monet spoke in French before switching back to English. "I have a few friends who I just arrived with, mind if they come with?"

"Y-Yeah, sure, go get them." Zoe nodded to Monet before pulling Cynthia in and closing the shack's windows.

Monet looked at the shack and he wanted to dive in there. It had been ages since he had seen Zoe and she looked as stunning as ever. Sighing, Monet reminded himself that this wasn't the North Box [OOC note: probably one of the last large settlements before Delacroix West in the Front. North Box has a population of ~750] and that Zoe had probably settled down or something.

Looking back at Rocky and Urban, Monet felt a pang of guilt for them as the locals looked hostile towards them. Regardless, he waved them over, signalling to Zoe's shack as a place of residence for the night.

[SaintB]

Rocky

The people of St. Jaques were polite but aloof and cold but he didn't blame them for that. He was a stranger here from a strange far away land and not exactly lightly armed. From snippets of conversation he heard he spoke a different language than many of them too which wouldn't help ingratiate himself very much, best just to return the polite aloofness and take care of his business, then get out of The Front as soon as possible. First stop was the small old world building that served as a general surgery and clinic here in town for Monet and Urban to get their wounds looked after then to find some food and lodging for the night, "You get patched up, I'll take care of that thing," he cryptically referred to Urban's collection of slave collars, "And find a place for us to put up for the night, is there a place like that?"

Rocky's stomach growled, "And please tell me that it has good food."

Saint Jacques, "The Front", Northern Louisiana

"Monet, est-que c'est toi?*" Monet heard from one of the shacks to his right as he looked over.

Peaking out from the window was a small little girl, who couldn't have been older than ten years old. She appeared to be in awe seeing Monet as Monet smiled at her.

"Cynthia! Get back in here! What did I say about talking to-" A woman could be heard from inside as a relatively attractive woman appeared in the window grabbing the small girl before she looked at Monet. "Oh Jesus Christ, Desire?"

"Hey Zoe." Monet smiled at the woman as she let go of the little girl.

"Oh my god, get in here. Where the fu- er- hell have you been?" The woman named Zoe spoke quickly before lowering her voice. "C'est actuallement toi. Oh mon dieu.**"

"Oui, c'est moi, Monet. Je vis Zoe.***" Monet spoke in French before switching back to English. "I have a few friends who I just arrived with, mind if they come with?"

"Y-Yeah, sure, go get them." Zoe nodded to Monet before pulling Cynthia in and closing the shack's windows.

Monet looked at the shack and he wanted to dive in there. It had been ages since he had seen Zoe and she looked as stunning as ever. Sighing, Monet reminded himself that this wasn't the North Box [OOC note: probably one of the last large settlements before Delacroix West in the Front. North Box has a population of ~750] and that Zoe had probably settled down or something.

Looking back at Rocky and Urban, Monet felt a pang of guilt for them as the locals looked hostile towards them. Regardless, he waved them over, signalling to Zoe's shack as a place of residence for the night.

OOC: I promised Azaflaza I'd do my best to get Rocky in Providence by Saturday. Would split posting be ok with you? Then we can advance one direction while developing here...

Rocky
French Creole, or French Anything, was not a language Rocky was familiar with; hell he barely spoke American. So when Monet and Zoe began their conversation Rocky was in the dark about what was being said and just hoped it wasn't anything anything bad about him. The woman Monet was speaking with seemed to invite him somewhere and he switched back to something Rocky could understand to ask if his two 'friends' could come with and while she seemed reluctant at first she agreed and Monet waved them over. Rocky being the Wasteland's poster child for firearm safety ejected the magazine from his carbine and stuffed it in an empty pouch on his ammo belt, then did the same with the pistol's clip as well before pulling back the slide and ejecting the round still in the pistol's chamber and catching it in the air with a wink toward the little girl. Thus disarmed the regulator followed behind Monet and remained respectfully quiet since this Zoe woman seemed to be as leery of strangers as the rest of town.

Rocky, some time a few days later
Even though he was 'relaxing' Rocky was kind of a busy body. He had offered to spend a few hours in the nights to watch for animals and raiders and during the day he got busy cleaning and maintaining his personal weapons and had completely disassembled the two varmint rifles he'd claimed as a prize from the gunfight in which he met Monet and had thoroughly cleaned them before he reassembled all the best parts of the two to make a new perfectly useful weapon out of them that would be good for hunting at least. The rest he traded for a handful of caps he planned to offer to Zoe as a show gratitude for her hospitality along with the can of Pork N' Beans he had acquired. While at the General Store Rocky heard a man named Crawdaddy Jenkins talk about a bounty for a serial murderer in a town named Providence, the DJ called him 'The Plugger'.

Rocky's lawman bone got an itch, if Providence needed outside help to catch a killer than it was more or less his sworn duty as a Regulator to help with that. Good news was that there was a caravan from some group calling themselves the Mississippi Union of Traders they had a couple brahmin and a fancy wagon with a canvas cover with MUT stenciled on it and they wanted a couple more guards for the road as they traveled to Defiance by way of (you guessed it) Providence. Rocky had been tossing it around since yesterday in his head to let Monet in on what his business was, he was a good man in a fight and seemed like a generally good man all in all, he was also a skilled hunter and tracker and far more familiar with Louisiana than Rocky was, if he was going to start a Regulator chapter in Louisiana he'd need recruits and Monet fit the bill perfectly, maybe he'd be up for some crime fighting.

After firing a few rounds from the new varmint rifle to make sure it worked ok Rocky set out to find where Desire was and flagged him down, "Hey Monet, can I have a couple of minutes. Got something I'd like to discuss with you."

[Chrysaor]

Near Vendetta

“Tactical experience...” Hugo mumbled to himself and rolled his eyes with a sigh. “You’re looking for a commander or something?”

He remembered the flashing golden armor of Claudius Pavus, the dead commander of Blood Hound Centuria as he led his men down Santa Fe Avanue towards the steps of Flagstaff Courthouse. There before the Great Caesar and the Legate, he drew off his crested helmet and offered the spoils of war with his head bowed and his manners meek.

"Domine, I bring you the cavalry saber of Captain Johnson of the NCR Arizona Company. As you have commanded me, so I have done. Yuma is yours. Let no man say they showed dishonor."

Such was the dignity of a commander.

Hugo shook his head, he was a little tired. He had been up an entire day already. Starting to see things… Things he'd prefer to forget. As for what was happening now, he didn’t know whether he wanted to lead, whether he should lead. He hadn’t led anything in such a long time. But then again, Hugo was sure none of the other boys felt like doing it either. When one hesitates one tends to die, the man pondered. He was breathing heavily now, causing a whistle of air through the gap in his teeth.

What the hells, Hugo though before raising his hand.

“O gods, o mighty Olympus, I, Hugo Sandoval of Rat City, offer my service. Sure I have some tactical experience…though if no one minds I’ll spare y’all the gory details. I’ve led men into fiery apocalyptic hell itself I’m sure I can lead a few dozen well-trained guys against some criminals and junkies.”

This was wild, he knew that. But in an exhilarating and completely terrified way - Hugo was glad he was doing it.

[Fascist Russian Empire]

Victor Robinson,
Outskirts of Morgan City

"Gunny, I believe you misunderstand the German tactics from the second World War. Their tactics revolved around two things; mobility, and armor. They used tanks as spearhead units to breakthrough enemy lines and allow rapid advance, thus conducting a lighting fast war. Not only do we not have tanks, or any other vehicles for that matter, mobility tactics won't be particularly useful against a static target. No, we aren't going to adhere to the German doctrine of mobile warfare; firepower, and overwhelming force is what we need, crushing the inferior and lower quality troops of our enemies, not enhanced mobility. Even if we had any vehicles, it won't matter how quickly or how far we advance if we can't beat our enemies in the first place or consolidate our gains. Shock and awe tactics are what we're going for." Victor said in response to Gunny talking about blitzkrieg tactics.

"As for you, Hugo, while I cannot be certain of the validity of your claims, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and place you in command of attack group B. You will lead the assault on the western portion of the city, while I shall lead the eastern assault. How you do it, I leave up to you, but just know that a victory here will yield tremendous rewards. Now, no more delaying; it's time for the attack. Let's teach these scum the meaning of the phrase total war; do whatever it takes to win, Hugo, regardless of ethics. How we win won't matter when this region comes under Enclave dominance." Victor finished, starting the final preparations for the assault. The force of mercenaries that had been gathered was split into two smaller forces, each of which made preparations to attack one side of the city, getting ready for a pincer movement.

[Ontorisa]

Saint Jacques, "The Front", Northern Louisiana

"Monet, est-que c'est toi?*" Monet heard from one of the shacks to his right as he looked over.

Peaking out from the window was a small little girl, who couldn't have been older than ten years old. She appeared to be in awe seeing Monet as Monet smiled at her.

"Cynthia! Get back in here! What did I say about talking to-" A woman could be heard from inside as a relatively attractive woman appeared in the window grabbing the small girl before she looked at Monet. "Oh Jesus Christ, Desire?"

"Hey Zoe." Monet smiled at the woman as she let go of the little girl.

"Oh my god, get in here. Where the fu- er- hell have you been?" The woman named Zoe spoke quickly before lowering her voice. "C'est actuallement toi. Oh mon dieu.**"

"Oui, c'est moi, Monet. Je vis Zoe.***" Monet spoke in French before switching back to English. "I have a few friends who I just arrived with, mind if they come with?"

"Y-Yeah, sure, go get them." Zoe nodded to Monet before pulling Cynthia in and closing the shack's windows.

Monet looked at the shack and he wanted to dive in there. It had been ages since he had seen Zoe and she looked as stunning as ever. Sighing, Monet reminded himself that this wasn't the North Box [OOC note: probably one of the last large settlements before Delacroix West in the Front. North Box has a population of ~750] and that Zoe had probably settled down or something.

Looking back at Rocky and Urban, Monet felt a pang of guilt for them as the locals looked hostile towards them. Regardless, he waved them over, signalling to Zoe's shack as a place of residence for the night.

OOC: I promised Azaflaza I'd do my best to get Rocky in Providence by Saturday. Would split posting be ok with you? Then we can advance one direction while developing here...

Rocky
French Creole, or French Anything, was not a language Rocky was familiar with; hell he barely spoke American. So when Monet and Zoe began their conversation Rocky was in the dark about what was being said and just hoped it wasn't anything anything bad about him. The woman Monet was speaking with seemed to invite him somewhere and he switched back to something Rocky could understand to ask if his two 'friends' could come with and while she seemed reluctant at first she agreed and Monet waved them over. Rocky being the Wasteland's poster child for firearm safety ejected the magazine from his carbine and stuffed it in an empty pouch on his ammo belt, then did the same with the pistol's clip as well before pulling back the slide and ejecting the round still in the pistol's chamber and catching it in the air with a wink toward the little girl. Thus disarmed the regulator followed behind Monet and remained respectfully quiet since this Zoe woman seemed to be as leery of strangers as the rest of town.

Rocky, some time a few days later
Even though he was 'relaxing' Rocky was kind of a busy body. He had offered to spend a few hours in the nights to watch for animals and raiders and during the day he got busy cleaning and maintaining his personal weapons and had completely disassembled the two varmint rifles he'd claimed as a prize from the gunfight in which he met Monet and had thoroughly cleaned them before he reassembled all the best parts of the two to make a new perfectly useful weapon out of them that would be good for hunting at least. The rest he traded for a handful of caps he planned to offer to Zoe as a show gratitude for her hospitality along with the can of Pork N' Beans he had acquired. While at the General Store Rocky heard a man named Crawdaddy Jenkins talk about a bounty for a serial murderer in a town named Providence, the DJ called him 'The Plugger'.

Rocky's lawman bone got an itch, if Providence needed outside help to catch a killer than it was more or less his sworn duty as a Regulator to help with that. Good news was that there was a caravan from some group calling themselves the Mississippi Union of Traders they had a couple brahmin and a fancy wagon with a canvas cover with MUT stenciled on it and they wanted a couple more guards for the road as they traveled to Defiance by way of (you guessed it) Providence. Rocky had been tossing it around since yesterday in his head to let Monet in on what his business was, he was a good man in a fight and seemed like a generally good man all in all, he was also a skilled hunter and tracker and far more familiar with Louisiana than Rocky was, if he was going to start a Regulator chapter in Louisiana he'd need recruits and Monet fit the bill perfectly, maybe he'd be up for some crime fighting.

After firing a few rounds from the new varmint rifle to make sure it worked ok Rocky set out to find where Desire was and flagged him down, "Hey Monet, can I have a couple of minutes. Got something I'd like to discuss with you."

Outskirts of Saint Jacques, "The Front", Northern Louisiana

Sitting while holding Cynthia with one arm and having her on his lap and leaning on Zoe, Monet looked over at Rocky as he finished firing the rifle he had just assembled.

"What's up man?" Monet asked as Cynthia got off Monet and he stood up.

Zoe appeared to be annoyed with Rocky, separating the two but she went to tending to Cynthia.

Monet's shoulder head healed at an astonishing rate, plus seeing Zoe again was a huge boost to his system. Whatever Rocky had in store for him, Monet could tell it was going to separate the two again. Walking over to Rocky, Monet looked back at Zoe and her daughter Cynthia before looking at Rocky.

"Yeah?" Monet asked.

[SaintB]

OOC: I promised Azaflaza I'd do my best to get Rocky in Providence by Saturday. Would split posting be ok with you? Then we can advance one direction while developing here...

Rocky
French Creole, or French Anything, was not a language Rocky was familiar with; hell he barely spoke American. So when Monet and Zoe began their conversation Rocky was in the dark about what was being said and just hoped it wasn't anything anything bad about him. The woman Monet was speaking with seemed to invite him somewhere and he switched back to something Rocky could understand to ask if his two 'friends' could come with and while she seemed reluctant at first she agreed and Monet waved them over. Rocky being the Wasteland's poster child for firearm safety ejected the magazine from his carbine and stuffed it in an empty pouch on his ammo belt, then did the same with the pistol's clip as well before pulling back the slide and ejecting the round still in the pistol's chamber and catching it in the air with a wink toward the little girl. Thus disarmed the regulator followed behind Monet and remained respectfully quiet since this Zoe woman seemed to be as leery of strangers as the rest of town.

Rocky, some time a few days later
Even though he was 'relaxing' Rocky was kind of a busy body. He had offered to spend a few hours in the nights to watch for animals and raiders and during the day he got busy cleaning and maintaining his personal weapons and had completely disassembled the two varmint rifles he'd claimed as a prize from the gunfight in which he met Monet and had thoroughly cleaned them before he reassembled all the best parts of the two to make a new perfectly useful weapon out of them that would be good for hunting at least. The rest he traded for a handful of caps he planned to offer to Zoe as a show gratitude for her hospitality along with the can of Pork N' Beans he had acquired. While at the General Store Rocky heard a man named Crawdaddy Jenkins talk about a bounty for a serial murderer in a town named Providence, the DJ called him 'The Plugger'.

Rocky's lawman bone got an itch, if Providence needed outside help to catch a killer than it was more or less his sworn duty as a Regulator to help with that. Good news was that there was a caravan from some group calling themselves the Mississippi Union of Traders they had a couple brahmin and a fancy wagon with a canvas cover with MUT stenciled on it and they wanted a couple more guards for the road as they traveled to Defiance by way of (you guessed it) Providence. Rocky had been tossing it around since yesterday in his head to let Monet in on what his business was, he was a good man in a fight and seemed like a generally good man all in all, he was also a skilled hunter and tracker and far more familiar with Louisiana than Rocky was, if he was going to start a Regulator chapter in Louisiana he'd need recruits and Monet fit the bill perfectly, maybe he'd be up for some crime fighting.

After firing a few rounds from the new varmint rifle to make sure it worked ok Rocky set out to find where Desire was and flagged him down, "Hey Monet, can I have a couple of minutes. Got something I'd like to discuss with you."

Outskirts of Saint Jacques, "The Front", Northern Louisiana

Sitting while holding Cynthia with one arm and having her on his lap and leaning on Zoe, Monet looked over at Rocky as he finished firing the rifle he had just assembled.

"What's up man?" Monet asked as Cynthia got off Monet and he stood up.

Zoe appeared to be annoyed with Rocky, separating the two but she went to tending to Cynthia.

Monet's shoulder head healed at an astonishing rate, plus seeing Zoe again was a huge boost to his system. Whatever Rocky had in store for him, Monet could tell it was going to separate the two again. Walking over to Rocky, Monet looked back at Zoe and her daughter Cynthia before looking at Rocky.

"Yeah?" Monet asked.

Rocky
Rocky hadn't realized what Monet was occupied with and was apologetic, "I'm sorry D. I didn't realize you were preoccupied. I'll make this quick and you can go back to them..."

He did wonder what the relationship between them was but it weren't his place to pry, if they wanted him to know they would tell him, "You heard Urban mention it before, and me, I'm part of a group called The Regulators. We started in DC a little more than a decade ago and we are more or less traveling lawmen, self imposed martials of the wastelands if you will. Originally we concerned ourselves with the slave trade between the Capitol Wasteland and a place called The Pitt but as time passed the people in different communities started relying on us to impose the long missing law and order that they couldn't themselves. Anyway I won't bore you with the details but long story short I didn't come rambling all this way for no good reason; I was sent down here to start a new posse and get the Regulators started up here. I need good men with good skills and well... you are just about perfect. I want you to join me in Regulating."

He realized it was kind of a big thing to spring on him, "You don't need to answer right away, I know you have important things here in St. Jaques and I'm willing to let you mull over the decision. Regardless I need to move on, I got a spot with a MUT caravan that's heading to Providence in about 5 days after they do some trading for backut furs and such. They gave me an advance to rent a place as my payment so I'll be able to get out of Miss Zoe's hair so there is no getting out of going for me. Besides that I heard they have a problem in Providence and they're best investigator was killed. I want to head down there and lend my 'expertise' to try and build a reputation for my burgeoning posse."

Having said his piece he motioned back toward Zoe and Cynthia, "I took up enough of your time brother. Go back to them and maybe think about the offer; I think we could go far together." he offered a smile as a parting gesture, "I'm going to collect my things, and please give this to Zoe as a thank you for letting me stay for a couple nights."

Rocky handed Monet a small sack that weighed approximately 23 caps and a can of beans and offered a hand shake before he'd get his things and head toward the cot he had paid for at the public house but at least he had a private room and wouldn't have to be bothering miss Zoe no more.

[Ontorisa]

Snip

Snip

Outskirts of Saint Jacques, "The Front", Northern Louisiana

"Hey," Monet tapped Rocky's shoulder as he turned away. "Man, I don't know what the hell you think you're doing in the South, but I'm coming with you. I mean, those guys we killed, they were part of a group that run the grounds I hunt in. I don't really have anything else to do here when the caps run out from my expeditions."

Monet looked back at Zoe, who met his eyes and instantly knew something was up. She got up and walked over, standing beside Rocky and giving him a slight smile.

"Qu'est que c'est la probleme?" Zoe asked softly in a quick sentence of French.

"Uhh, je vais a la sud, avec Rocky pour le travaille." Monet replied, awkwardly as Zoe looked at Rocky again as soon as Monet answered.

"Mais, Cynthia et moi. Nous n'avons pas-" Zoe began before Monet hugged her, pulling her in.

"I'll come back, I swear." Monet assured Zoe before she pushed Monet away.

"No, you can't fucking do this to me. You show up for a few days and then you expect me to deal with being separated again?" Zoe looked at Monet before glancing at Rocky again.

"Zoe-" Monet began before Zoe snapped again.

"Going down south D? You're going to get killed, with your friend too. I don't want that, please." Zoe pleaded with Monet as she drew closer. "Do it for Cynth, please."

"I can't, okay? My grounds have been taken over." Monet began to explain, beginning with him tracking and hunting the Backcush, then being ambushed by poachers and having Rocky save him. Continuing, Monet then talked about Urban and how they had picked him up before getting into a fight with another group of poachers since Urban was apparently a slave trader. Finally, Monet finished with the encounter with the Jengal's nest and how Rocky was offering pay as a Regulator. "See, Zoe, I promise I'll come back. If I can survive the Front, I can sure as hell survive the south."

"But, D, you're not immortal. Just because you can navigate around here doesn't mean that all of Louisiana is the same." Zoe sighed, looking at Monet before hugging him. "Do what you want, just come back, promise?"

Resting his head on top of Zoe's, Monet closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment.

"Promise."

---

Three Days Later...
Black Iron Passage, Main Entrance to the South, "The Front", Louisiana

Monet sat at the base of Black Iron Passage, remembering what he had said to Zoe. She was one of the only people Monet had really loved, and for that, he felt horrible just leaving her at Saint Jacques. A friend there however, promised Monet that he would take care of her, making sure that Cynthia got taught how to hunt, track, forage and handle a weapon before Monet returned. He already was looking forward to the day.

The caravan had halted before the entrance of Black Iron Passage, a warning sign at the entrance as the caravan master read it, looking around nervously. Monet knew this part of the Front, it was a bad place. No game, but plenty of predators and renegades who preyed on those stupid enough to stray from the main road, or who camped too close to the caves that riddled the passage. However, with a large caravan like the one Rocky and Monet were in, it was Jengals and Backcushes during the nights that worried Monet.

"Black Iron Passage: Word of Advice Traveller: Stick to the roads marked with sticks or hope for a quick and painless death." The caravan master read out loud, clearly frightening some of the caravan guards and travellers. "It's not that bad, I've gone through here before."

Monet mused at the master's reassurance to the group, but noted his calmness even though this was one of the most deadly yet safest passages to the south. Black Iron Passage definitely beat the Crucified Trials and the Newt Gum River since they didn't have to deal with nests of cazadors.

"Well folks, let's get a move on before it gets too dark." The master called out as the caravan appeared to groan at the sound of crossing into Black Iron Passage.

Unlike them, Monet enjoyed the passage, even though it was dangerous, there was a sense of excitement navigating the caves. Sure there was the risk of being killed, but exploring them and possibly finding something valuable outweighed that.

[SaintB]

Rocky, The Black Iron Passage

Something about this area rustled his jimmies. They were barely outside St. Jaques but something about this Iron Passage seemed way off, "So you mean there is no better way out of here than this?"

This was the kind of dusty rock strewn area that was too close to like what Rocky was used to and that was what made him nervous. So far most of the south that he had seen had a fair amount of plants and animals at its worst and he had heard that much of Louisiana were thick with plants and trees and swamps. The fact that this place was as bone dry as the Capitol Wasteland during a drought was made him feel a bit unnerved. Paranoid enough to take the carbine off SAFE.

[Kazarogkai]

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

Much had occurred over the past couple days for one to speak of and for the most part were rather neutral in terms of their overall benefits and costs. For one thing knowing full well my forces were really in a drastic need for more troops I called upon my staff to increase their recruiting efforts to bring in fresh blood to my Militants. When this did not bear much fruit I turned to a rather desperate idea. I a plan b of sorts that would involve me rather than spending my time trying to get good quality recruits from the south but instead go more local in my efforts. It was a desperate play for the local tribals as I may have mentioned before weren't the best quality in terms of abilities in some regards. Don't get me wrong they got some going for them ranging from their melee abilities, knowledge of the land, and being accumulated to the climate and geography. But what they made them rather poor for a unified military force ranged from their heavy clan and overall tribalism causing them have difficulty cooperating with others not from said tribe, Virtual lack of gun skills forcing me to have to spend much more time training them for that regard, and to a degree bad discipline making it difficult to command them. Before I didn't really have to worry about the training of my troops, having a strict selection criteria was enough going me good fighters with little difficulty on my part. Now I must have a formal training regimen in place to give the tribal recruits the skills they need to be militants within my forces. But at least I had already been planing on doing that a while ago and had to some degree been preparing for that so as such would when the time came be ready. I settled with my staff on a training regimen involving a boot camp that would last maybe 2 weeks in which my officers and some NCOs would train up the new recruits in basic firearm skills and discipline training, mostly focusing on the former, with a subsequent Initiate period in which said new recruits would be placed with more veteran and established troops who would mentor the new recruit and would participate with them in combat. Hopefully this would be enough to ensure that I would continue to maintain a decent fighting force capable of holding it's own against my enemies, but in the end all I could do was wait for the passage of time to show me the answer.

A second thing that has come up has to do with the Whispers, my ally. Their village was half destroyed and looted in the battle and they suffered rather horrific losses to boot. They are collectively not doing so well even though they have been able to return to their homes and to a minor degree rebuild. What I feared would happen occurred when the Elders of the Whispers suddenly arrived with the desire to negotiate with me personally on this issue. Fearing further Montou attacks wishing to protect their people from said attacks they asked if their peoples may become incorporated fully into my domain as civilians. I agreed to their petition and with that the Whispers were no more but a footnote in the pages of history. With this came a queer conundrum. With Whispers ceasing to be an effective tribe this ended the casus-beli for the war. The whole point of the conflict had been the Montou wishing to destroy the Whispers and with me joining on the Whispers side. But without the Whispers around what point was there for the war? As a result of this and also out of a desire for personal gain, specifically my need to regain my strength, that with the recent lull in the fighting I would approach the Montou and possibly negotiate a white-peace, if not a ceasefire. The Montou had been badly mauled in the last battle and even though they remained dangerous they were no vulnerable and knew it, I hoped this would correlate with a desire to have a ceasefire to end the conflict even for just a little for the mutual benefit of all. In the meantime I ordered Captain Clay and his forces on the field to hasten their search and destroy operations into Montou territory to exasperate the Montou and maybe even make them more forthcoming for when I come to them with the ceasefire. During this time I will have the Whispers move quietly out of their former village and make the move to my Settlement of Arcadia and ultimately the safety of it's walls. After this was over they would send a communique to the Montou notifying them of their ultimate decision so that the Montou would know what has occurred.

[Tayner]

Victor Robinson,
Outskirts of Morgan City

"Gunny, I believe you misunderstand the German tactics from the second World War. Their tactics revolved around two things; mobility, and armor. They used tanks as spearhead units to breakthrough enemy lines and allow rapid advance, thus conducting a lighting fast war. Not only do we not have tanks, or any other vehicles for that matter, mobility tactics won't be particularly useful against a static target. No, we aren't going to adhere to the German doctrine of mobile warfare; firepower, and overwhelming force is what we need, crushing the inferior and lower quality troops of our enemies, not enhanced mobility. Even if we had any vehicles, it won't matter how quickly or how far we advance if we can't beat our enemies in the first place or consolidate our gains. Shock and awe tactics are what we're going for." Victor said in response to Gunny talking about blitzkrieg tactics.

"As for you, Hugo, while I cannot be certain of the validity of your claims, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and place you in command of attack group B. You will lead the assault on the western portion of the city, while I shall lead the eastern assault. How you do it, I leave up to you, but just know that a victory here will yield tremendous rewards. Now, no more delaying; it's time for the attack. Let's teach these scum the meaning of the phrase total war; do whatever it takes to win, Hugo, regardless of ethics. How we win won't matter when this region comes under Enclave dominance." Victor finished, starting the final preparations for the assault. The force of mercenaries that had been gathered was split into two smaller forces, each of which made preparations to attack one side of the city, getting ready for a pincer movement.

" Well Vic, since we don't have Tiger tanks or a Luftwaffe at our disposal, I thought we could place snipers, and put our armored unit out first. But, you, well, I guess, are the boss. I'll move with Hugo, I think your decades of experience can substitute for me." Gunny said. He then prepaired his Assault Carbine. He had about a half dozen mags. And a half one loaded. "I'm ready to move out" he then said.

[Ontorisa]

Rocky, The Black Iron Passage

Something about this area rustled his jimmies. They were barely outside St. Jaques but something about this Iron Passage seemed way off, "So you mean there is no better way out of here than this?"

This was the kind of dusty rock strewn area that was too close to like what Rocky was used to and that was what made him nervous. So far most of the south that he had seen had a fair amount of plants and animals at its worst and he had heard that much of Louisiana were thick with plants and trees and swamps. The fact that this place was as bone dry as the Capitol Wasteland during a drought was made him feel a bit unnerved. Paranoid enough to take the carbine off SAFE.

Black Iron Passage, Northern Louisiana

"Boy, you're definitely not from around here," The caravan master, Brian laughed at Rocky's paranoia. "Black Iron Passage is one hundred times safer than the Crucified Trials or the Newt Gum River. Unless if you're somehow immune to the Cazador's stings and poisons, then you should probably take them."

"Hey, Brian, one piece right?" One of the travellers, Brutus, the deserter, spoke up, a bit unnerved by the warnings.

"No promises kiddo, I'll try my best." Brian looked back and grinned at Brutus before turning to the entrance. "Kidding, we should be fine as long as we don't run off onto any side trails or caves."

Monet rolled his eyes at the master, he was so God damn annoying. Sure he was a local, but quite frankly, Monet could care less on how he scared the travellers.

"You know, I might take my chances with the Cazadors," The poacher, Zach, spoke up after the Brahmin began moving forward into the passage. "It seems quite dangerous."

"Cut it kid," Monet spoke up as he began to walk into the passage, slinging his rifle over his back and motioning for Rocky to follow him.

Zach appeared to be annoyed with Monet's attitude, but Brian nodded to the guards as they advanced into the passage, the cries of the vultures in the distance giving an ominous feeling.

[SaintB]

Rocky, The Black Iron Passage

Something about this area rustled his jimmies. They were barely outside St. Jaques but something about this Iron Passage seemed way off, "So you mean there is no better way out of here than this?"

This was the kind of dusty rock strewn area that was too close to like what Rocky was used to and that was what made him nervous. So far most of the south that he had seen had a fair amount of plants and animals at its worst and he had heard that much of Louisiana were thick with plants and trees and swamps. The fact that this place was as bone dry as the Capitol Wasteland during a drought was made him feel a bit unnerved. Paranoid enough to take the carbine off SAFE.

Black Iron Passage, Northern Louisiana

"Boy, you're definitely not from around here," The caravan master, Brian laughed at Rocky's paranoia. "Black Iron Passage is one hundred times safer than the Crucified Trials or the Newt Gum River. Unless if you're somehow immune to the Cazador's stings and poisons, then you should probably take them."

"Hey, Brian, one piece right?" One of the travellers, Brutus, the deserter, spoke up, a bit unnerved by the warnings.

"No promises kiddo, I'll try my best." Brian looked back and grinned at Brutus before turning to the entrance. "Kidding, we should be fine as long as we don't run off onto any side trails or caves."

Monet rolled his eyes at the master, he was so God damn annoying. Sure he was a local, but quite frankly, Monet could care less on how he scared the travellers.

"You know, I might take my chances with the Cazadors," The poacher, Zach, spoke up after the Brahmin began moving forward into the passage. "It seems quite dangerous."

"Cut it kid," Monet spoke up as he began to walk into the passage, slinging his rifle over his back and motioning for Rocky to follow him.

Zach appeared to be annoyed with Monet's attitude, but Brian nodded to the guards as they advanced into the passage, the cries of the vultures in the distance giving an ominous feeling.

Rocky
Rocky just about sneered toward Brian for his jocularity about his paranoia, "Ive been doing this stuff for a long time. All I'm saying is this place don't feel right today. You lead I'll follow but don't knock me for being cautious and don't tease me about my instincts unless nothing happens got it? If nothing happens I'll make fun of me too."

He let the assault carbine dangle across his chest from its sling but the switch was still set to firing position as he followed Monet into the Black Iron Passage along with the rest of the wagon train.

[Ontorisa]

Black Iron Passage, Northern Louisiana

"Boy, you're definitely not from around here," The caravan master, Brian laughed at Rocky's paranoia. "Black Iron Passage is one hundred times safer than the Crucified Trials or the Newt Gum River. Unless if you're somehow immune to the Cazador's stings and poisons, then you should probably take them."

"Hey, Brian, one piece right?" One of the travellers, Brutus, the deserter, spoke up, a bit unnerved by the warnings.

"No promises kiddo, I'll try my best." Brian looked back and grinned at Brutus before turning to the entrance. "Kidding, we should be fine as long as we don't run off onto any side trails or caves."

Monet rolled his eyes at the master, he was so God damn annoying. Sure he was a local, but quite frankly, Monet could care less on how he scared the travellers.

"You know, I might take my chances with the Cazadors," The poacher, Zach, spoke up after the Brahmin began moving forward into the passage. "It seems quite dangerous."

"Cut it kid," Monet spoke up as he began to walk into the passage, slinging his rifle over his back and motioning for Rocky to follow him.

Zach appeared to be annoyed with Monet's attitude, but Brian nodded to the guards as they advanced into the passage, the cries of the vultures in the distance giving an ominous feeling.

Rocky
Rocky just about sneered toward Brian for his jocularity about his paranoia, "Ive been doing this stuff for a long time. All I'm saying is this place don't feel right today. You lead I'll follow but don't knock me for being cautious and don't tease me about my instincts unless nothing happens got it? If nothing happens I'll make fun of me too."

He let the assault carbine dangle across his chest from its sling but the switch was still set to firing position as he followed Monet into the Black Iron Passage along with the rest of the wagon train.

Black Iron Passage, Northern Louisiana

One by one, the caravan advanced into the passage, Monet leading with Zach, the legion deserter Brutus and Rocky behind him. Brian was at the centre, sitting on top of the caravan's covered wagon (which had that whore, or widow as she wanted to be called, Rachel in it). The rest of the group walked along the road, the two MUT representatives leading the brahmin with the third one being led by one of the travellers.

Oh yeah, it was loud and Monet was a bit nervous about the amount of attention they were probably drawing.

[SaintB]

Rocky
Rocky just about sneered toward Brian for his jocularity about his paranoia, "Ive been doing this stuff for a long time. All I'm saying is this place don't feel right today. You lead I'll follow but don't knock me for being cautious and don't tease me about my instincts unless nothing happens got it? If nothing happens I'll make fun of me too."

He let the assault carbine dangle across his chest from its sling but the switch was still set to firing position as he followed Monet into the Black Iron Passage along with the rest of the wagon train.

Black Iron Passage, Northern Louisiana

One by one, the caravan advanced into the passage, Monet leading with Zach, the legion deserter Brutus and Rocky behind him. Brian was at the centre, sitting on top of the caravan's covered wagon (which had that whore, or widow as she wanted to be called, Rachel in it). The rest of the group walked along the road, the two MUT representatives leading the brahmin with the third one being led by one of the travellers.

Oh yeah, it was loud and Monet was a bit nervous about the amount of attention they were probably drawing.

Rocky

"I'm almost sad about the prospect that its too late to go back with the jengals." Rocky said warily but with a small chuckle.

Sometimes you had to laugh at danger before you could relax enough to face it; at least that was how it worked for him anyway. The path ahead was a twisty and windy one with plenty of ridges and blind curves along the way which only put him less at ease. He was practically doing this trip with no pay, having to work off his advance at a rate of 10 caps a day and he would be paying Desire most of the wage he would get for him coming along (on top of Monet's own wage) Rocky might be able to buy a Nuka Cola when this was done. His life was on the line for the cost of a flat and warm beverage which really wasn't all to comforting either.

[Ontorisa]

Black Iron Passage, Northern Louisiana

One by one, the caravan advanced into the passage, Monet leading with Zach, the legion deserter Brutus and Rocky behind him. Brian was at the centre, sitting on top of the caravan's covered wagon (which had that whore, or widow as she wanted to be called, Rachel in it). The rest of the group walked along the road, the two MUT representatives leading the brahmin with the third one being led by one of the travellers.

Oh yeah, it was loud and Monet was a bit nervous about the amount of attention they were probably drawing.

Rocky

"I'm almost sad about the prospect that its too late to go back with the jengals." Rocky said warily but with a small chuckle.

Sometimes you had to laugh at danger before you could relax enough to face it; at least that was how it worked for him anyway. The path ahead was a twisty and windy one with plenty of ridges and blind curves along the way which only put him less at ease. He was practically doing this trip with no pay, having to work off his advance at a rate of 10 caps a day and he would be paying Desire most of the wage he would get for him coming along (on top of Monet's own wage) Rocky might be able to buy a Nuka Cola when this was done. His life was on the line for the cost of a flat and warm beverage which really wasn't all to comforting either.

Black Iron Passage, Northern Louisiana

"Yeah? We should be fine man, as long as no one does anything stupid." Monet called back as the caravan advanced.

Brutus, the deserter, clad in his leather armour with his signature Caesar machete at his side and 9x19mm Beretta 92FS Centurion in his hands. He was nervous, and this Monet and Rocky guys were making him feel the pressure of the Black Iron Passage even more. Oh, he couldn't take this anymore. He scrambled off to the side, off the path as the caravan passed by some eerie looking caves that had bright green crystals illuminating the interiors. Oh, jeez, he just wanted to curl up into a ball.

"The fuck is up with him?" Zach called out as the caravan stopped.

"Fuck this! I'm going back!" Brutus screamed as he came out of the damp cave.

"Oh shit, dude, what the fuck is all over you?" One of the guards looked over and gasped as the rest of the caravan looked at Brutus.

Looking down at his leather armour, Brutus saw the mix of red and blue liquid all over his armour. The red, was sticky, and as Brutus tasted it, it was metallic. The blue? It was the most sourest thing he had ever tasted.

"What's it taste like deserter?" Monet yelled at Brutus, in a half mocking voice.

"Metal for the red and sour for the blue." Brutus answered, confused.

Monet's faced went from mocking to dead serious in a quick second as he unholstered his 9x19mm SD9 Pistol and looked around. Brian, sitting on the wagon, noted Monet's reaction and reached back into his wagon to produce a caravan shotgun.

"What?" Brutus asked right as the pincers grabbed his legs.

Being dragged by a giant blue scorpion was not on his to-do list for today as Brutus screamed before the tail, with the giant spike with the green poison dripping from it, impaled itself into Brutus' torso, piercing his armour easily and tearing out his organs. Alive still, Brutus tried desperately to free himself, unsheathing his machete and hacking wildly at the scorpion as it dragged him into the cave he had just emerged from, tearing from him as more and more scorpions of different sizes closed in on him, stabbing him and grabbed parts of him and ripping them off.

Monet watched as the scorpion dragged the screaming Brutus into the cave. Feeling a bit relieved, he could only hear more skithering on the rocks around them. With horror, Monet had just realized what was going on, what Brutus had just walked into. A Radscorpion Hive, and a big one too. Those crystals should have been a dead give-away, to Monet's anger with himself.

"Radscorpions!" Monet screamed as another group of scorpions emerged from the right, leaping off the ledges from above and from the caves below as the same group who had dragged Brutus into the cave, re-emerged for a second round with the caravan.

Shots broke out as the travellers and guards began to engage the scorpions as the distance was closed quickly. A few of them burrowed, only to emerge behind the line the travellers had presented. They were outflanked and taken by surprise as two of the travellers, both of them male, were pounced on by the emerged scorpions. Monet lept to the side, firing at the scorpions as they appeared.

"Zach! Rocky! Keep on the road! No matter what you fucking do! You stay with me!" Monet ordered the two as he holstered his pistol and brought his rifle out just in time to shoot a scorpion in the head, point blank.

[SaintB]

Rocky

Monet didn't need to tell him twice to stick to the road, pavement was too dense for those things to dig through and sticking to the road at least kept him from getting attacked underneath. Radscorpions were a common phenomena in these kind of dry places and strangely Rocky felt vindicated knowing his gut feeling was right on once again, "Close up with your backs too the wagon! Face forward and stick to the pavement, get lead flying in every direction!"

Rocky shouted as loud as he could over the din and some people responded but others continued to panic and flee or shoot wildly. He pulled the trigger a few times and put a couple of rounds into one of the scorpions that fixated on him - one of the shots was deflected by the thick carapace of the creature but the other two struck at a better angle and penetrated causing the massive mutated arachnid to fall back for at least now from the pain. He wheeled on another and fired at it's 'face' where the natural armor was thinnest and scored a killing blow but around that time one of the MUT guards was grabbed by one almost the size of a car and drug toward the maw, it stung him a couple of times for good measure then retreated from the fight to go feed with a couple of smaller ones the size of dogs hoping to steal from it. The bigger one seemed to take offense to this and dropped its prize to attack, its massive stinger easily pierced the hide of one of the others while its compatriot skittered away; King Kong seemed happy with the result and grabbed its prize to walk away and the opportunistic dog sized scorpion decided it was best to just suck the guts from its dead comrade. Such was the nature of scorpions and with each one that would go down or be wounded and weakened there was at least one other looking to capitalize on the bad fortune of their hivemates so at least as many as were killed would be lost in a feeding frenzy and scorpions took hours to devour the insides of their meals.

A brahmin sized scorpion rushed the wagon and Bryan the caravan master panicked and reached for a stick of dynamite...