Fallout: Louisiana Blues | IC | Closed and Dead |

[Ontorisa]

Snip

Snip

"The Front", Northern Louisiana

Taking out an unused 10mm round, Monet listened to the gruesome tradition the man named Rocky carried out on the dead riflemen as he continued to loot the pistolman. Hearing the question, Monet turned his head back a second just to speak.

"I'm Désiré Monet. My friends call me D, so I guess you can too." Monet smiled at the other man before going back to looting.

After picking up the last cap and last round from the dead man, Monet returned to his rifle and picked it up, cocking the bolt and ejecting the magazine and reloading a new one. Looking around, Monet went back over to the dead pistolman and took his cowboy-like hat and placed it inside of his bag. He would probably wear it in civilizations, since the further south you went in Louisiana, the more hostile people got towards hunters/poachers. Glancing back at the dead Backcush, Monet felt a tang of sadness at the missed kill, but he hoped that wherever Backcushes went to after they died, it was in a better place. Looking for another place to climb up to Rocky, Monet found a smaller incline than the drop from the ridge where the riflemen were at. Climbing up it, Monet found himself looking at the back of Rocky from a few feet away.

"Hey Rocky!" Monet called before pulling out a spare beige bag that he would keep his meat in and tossed it to Rocky. "Load her up, and then let's move before any Jengals show up."

[Prusslandia]

Morrison's Bedlam

Micah silently rose from the murky bog behind the outsider, the watery sludge slowly dripping off of his malnourished and misshapen form. His hands held a makeshift blade, nicked with use and rusty with age. Parting his long, yet few strands of blackish brown hair, Micah focused his diseased pupils on the outsider. Small, nervous looking, and wearing clothing ill suited for the Bayou. Grinning, well, moreso grimacing, Micah lunged at the man, quickly silencing him with a hand around the throat. Gripping his machete of sorts, he messily cut the mans Achilles tendon, and let go of the mans throat. As screams and moans began to sound from the outsider, Micah quietly slinked back home. The gators would get him now. And if not them, well, there were things the Sawyers didn't mess with in the Bayou.

Sawyer Territory

As the Frumentarri stood, a large, almost mountainous Sawyer exited the heavy thicket around them. Easily seven feet, holding a massive sledgehammer with blades affixed, the deformed giant looked at them in confusion and blind contempt. " Wut you want, outsidah ? "

[Fascist Russian Empire]

Victor Robinson,
L'Auberge Casino

"You keep pressing your luck in front of elite soldiers with advanced weapons and armor worth more caps than you'll ever see in your lifetime, you aren't going to stay alive for very much longer. You're going to get killed sooner rather than later if you keep acting like this in front of professional soldiers, punk. But, you know what, I'm not even going to waste the ammo to kill you; you aren't worth the caps it would take to buy more microfusion cells. However, the next time you insult the Enclave, I will kill you, whether we're in public or not. I have neither patience nor tolerance towards NCR or Brotherhood sympathizers, and I have even less tolerance towards enemies of the Enclave. As for your offer to play poker with you, I have no intentions of wasting my time playing games with some disrespectful hoodlum, and I definitely don't need your charity; if you want to stand here while I play blackjack, I'm not going to stop you, provided to actually show some manners and refrain from insulting me and the Enclave. Now, surely you must have had some reason for wasting my time beyond accusing me of being part of the Brotherhood of Steel and showing disrespect to the Enclave? If so, then get on with it, if not, then find somebody else's time to waste."

Victor said to Gunny, hostility evident in his voice. The Enclave, to Victor, was family, and Victor was infinitely loyal to the Enclave, to fanatical levels. An insult against the Enclave was an insult against him personally, as far as Victor was concerned. He had actually killed several people before because they spoke negatively of the Enclave, and he was going to add Gunny to that list, but there were two things stopping him, the first being that he needed to save his microfusion cells for when he went with the rest of the Enclave to secure the vault in New Orleans and the second reason being that he wanted things to do during his time in Baton Rouge and getting a reputation as a murderer would probably make businesses not want to provide services to him. Gunny had gotten lucky, since on any other occasion Victor wouldn't have shown him the same mercy.

[Neo-Chicago]

Joseph, Morrison's Bedlam

Joseph collapsed on the wet swampland turf. Unable to stand, he rolled over, still holding his double-barrel shotgun. A flash of color in the brush caught his attention, and he shot the weapon that he had already loaded. He thought he had nicked the... thing, in the shoulder. Joseph couldn't tell, though, as it had already been mostly out of sight when he fired. "Have... to... get... back to... St. Louis." he said, slowly. Joseph dragged himself across the marshland, slowly but surely moving away. He wasn't very far from a road at all, and eventually dragged himself to a slab of a road with a sign saying, "988". On the pavement, he wrote the words "Haven of St. Louis, Rat City." Almost immediately after this, he completely lost consciousness.

Jeremiah, Haven of St. Louis

Jeremiah was smoking another cigarette, troubled enough already by the vampires that had been amassing forces. He was worried about Joseph as well, having sent him out to Providence himself. He shouldn't have been so foolish, and he turned the radio on to hear a song named "Amos Moses". Staring thoughtfully at the cracks in the cathedral floor, Jeremiah took a drag, stressed out. "Have I been a fool? Is all of my work pointless? What have I actually accomplished, here in the ruins of a house that was once of God? The only I've done, as far as I can tell, is probably sending a man to his death." the man said to himself, throwing a burnt match to the floor. He sometimes wondered whether or not even his faith had any meaning. Then again, faith was an unquestioning, unwavering belief in something, and he wasn't sure he had ever had any of that, at least not anymore. After all, what kind of God would allow vampires and creatures of unholy to roam the Earth? At times, he wondered if he should just leave his armor up, and wander out into the swampland to die. Dying was inevitable anyway, especially in a hellhole like this.
"Jeremiah? What are you still doing in here?" the soldier asked, as it was at least 2 AM.
"I was... nothing. Go back to sleep, I'll be in my quarters eventually." he said, hardly even listening to the concerns of one of the knights of his army, his Apollo Militants. A startling thought had occurred to him. What if God was dead? What if not even He could survive these bombs that drove humanity underground for decades? And Jeremiah didn't know, he had no answer to that question.
"Alright. The vampires will take advantage of your weariness if you don't retire to your quarters soon, though." Knight Abraham responded, still obviously worried. Jeremiah just wasn't sure what to do anymore.

[Tayner]

Victor Robinson,
L'Auberge Casino

"You keep pressing your luck in front of elite soldiers with advanced weapons and armor worth more caps than you'll ever see in your lifetime, you aren't going to stay alive for very much longer. You're going to get killed sooner rather than later if you keep acting like this in front of professional soldiers, punk. But, you know what, I'm not even going to waste the ammo to kill you; you aren't worth the caps it would take to buy more microfusion cells. However, the next time you insult the Enclave, I will kill you, whether we're in public or not. I have neither patience nor tolerance towards NCR or Brotherhood sympathizers, and I have even less tolerance towards enemies of the Enclave. As for your offer to play poker with you, I have no intentions of wasting my time playing games with some disrespectful hoodlum, and I definitely don't need your charity; if you want to stand here while I play blackjack, I'm not going to stop you, provided to actually show some manners and refrain from insulting me and the Enclave. Now, surely you must have had some reason for wasting my time beyond accusing me of being part of the Brotherhood of Steel and showing disrespect to the Enclave? If so, then get on with it, if not, then find somebody else's time to waste."

Victor said to Gunny, hostility evident in his voice. The Enclave, to Victor, was family, and Victor was infinitely loyal to the Enclave, to fanatical levels. An insult against the Enclave was an insult against him personally, as far as Victor was concerned. He had actually killed several people before because they spoke negatively of the Enclave, and he was going to add Gunny to that list, but there were two things stopping him, the first being that he needed to save his microfusion cells for when he went with the rest of the Enclave to secure the vault in New Orleans and the second reason being that he wanted things to do during his time in Baton Rouge and getting a reputation as a murderer would probably make businesses not want to provide services to him. Gunny had gotten lucky, since on any other occasion Victor wouldn't have shown him the same mercy.

"You know what man, it takes too much energy to hate, and I haven't had Med-x in a wile, I've been useing it in the past few days because I've been shot multiple times. You know what, I'll buy you a drink. It's the least I could do to say sorry to you." Gunny said. And then he glanced at the group of casino thugs gathering nearby disperse slowly. He'd definitely got some attention. " So, the last time I got a history course on the Brotherhood of steel, it was from the Brotherhood of Steel. I'd like to hear your side of the story, probaly be better anyway, cause one of those BoS motherfuckers stole my laser pistol. That's another reason I was a dick. Last time I saw someone in that type of armor, they took my pistol. I used to have a laser pistol. Let bygones be bygones. Unless they steal your laser pistol."

[Fascist Russian Empire]

Victor Robinson,
L'Auberge Casino

"Well, if you're an enemy of the Brotherhood, why didn't you just say so from the beginning? From the way you were talking, it sounded like you sympathized with those thieving techno-fetishist bastards. Sorry 'bout the whole death threats thing, but I fucking hate the Brotherhood of Steel, almost as much as I hate the fucking NCR; when you've been at war with somebody for several decades, and when you've seen countless of your comrades killed, you tend to be quick to pull a rifle on people who sympathize with your enemies. Anyway, if you want me to tell you about the Brotherhood, I'd be glad to tell you about every single crime perpetrated by those fucking technology worshiping assholes. We can talk over a bottle of bourbon." Victor said to Gunny, his tone taking a huge shift from the hostile voice he had been using when Gunny insulted the Enclave. He still had a less than positive first-impression of the man from what he had said about the Enclave, but since he had apologized, and expressed a negative opinion of the Brotherhood of Steel, he figured he might as well grace Gunny with his time.

[Togeria]

Ok, she made it out alive! Sure she was almost made some inbreds whore, and almost lost a few fingers, but she made it! Bad side is she has to fork over 5,000 caps, but at least she keeps a big amount herself, and has her fingers to boot.

She made it to a boat, and one of the boys helped her load it up, I guess they were kind once you got to know them. She went ahead and sailed to the end of the bayou to a place "Momma's House". She would just give the drugs to the man, he provided the caps, and she went the other payed the 5,000 and went on her way.

It was always like this, but hey it was he job, and she did it well.

[Tayner]

Victor Robinson,
L'Auberge Casino

"Well, if you're an enemy of the Brotherhood, why didn't you just say so from the beginning? From the way you were talking, it sounded like you sympathized with those thieving techno-fetishist bastards. Sorry 'bout the whole death threats thing, but I fucking hate the Brotherhood of Steel, almost as much as I hate the fucking NCR; when you've been at war with somebody for several decades, and when you've seen countless of your comrades killed, you tend to be quick to pull a rifle on people who sympathize with your enemies. Anyway, if you want me to tell you about the Brotherhood, I'd be glad to tell you about every single crime perpetrated by those fucking technology worshiping assholes. We can talk over a bottle of bourbon." Victor said to Gunny, his tone taking a huge shift from the hostile voice he had been using when Gunny insulted the Enclave. He still had a less than positive first-impression of the man from what he had said about the Enclave, but since he had apologized, and expressed a negative opinion of the Brotherhood of Steel, he figured he might as well grace Gunny with his time.

"Well I'm not one for first impressions. But I'll grow on ya. Just ask anyone I know who I haven't killed. Like John Doe in rat city, I almost blew his head off when I met him, but me and him are tight. Or Seth Jackson in Vendetta, the guy owes me his life. But we didn't have a good first impression." Gunny explained. " Hey, bartender, a bottle of bourbon for me and my friend here" gunny said as he placed caps on the counter. "Sorry again for insulting the enclave, the brotherhood got to tell me their story first, so you sounded like the bad guy when we met."

Gunny remembered the day, he was 16, and had defended a small town from a bandit raid. When he found a lazer pistol, he went to the inn. Not two hours later a small group of brotherhood scribes and Knights walked in, and took everything important. The radio, and all the energy weapons. Later one scribe explained their goals, and who their enemies were. The scribe then gave Gunny a book, "English For Kids". The scribe helped him learn how to read, and then they left the town. It was a small way of showing they weren't complete assholes. Because they took Gunny's truck too. A few days later he found a scribe, one claiming to be lost, and Gunny shot him in the face, looted him, and carried on.

"Hey, Whats your name friend? Why don't we go kill some bandits. I know the region, and you are armed to the teeth, we could easily get 500 caps a day, each." Gunny said to the man when the drinks arrived.

[Fascist Russian Empire]

Victor Robinson,
L'Auberge Casino

"The name's Robinson, Victor Robinson; Enclave soldier for seventeen years, ever since I turned eighteen. As for killing bandits, I think I'll pass; it's easy as fuck to kill raiders, since I have yet to meet a single one that actually has training or equipment good enough to match the Enclave, and selling the garbage they call weapons and armor yields a decent amount of caps, but I'm not here to make caps. I'm here on Enclave orders. I came to Louisiana with five other Enclave troops, in a strike team of six members, on a mission, however, our vertibird crashed on the way here and I was the only survivor. I'm currently waiting for a second Enclave expedition to show up so I can join with them and get back to my mission. If I were here for caps, I'd probably just do some work as a mercenary. It's not like there would be any other mercenaries with my level of training, experience, and equipment." Victor explained, taking off his helmet and taking a drink of bourbon, revealing his face.

"If you're feeling like fighting, though, I'm always up for killing. I usually wouldn't waste the microfusion cells doing off-duty fighting, but, it ain't like I got anything better to do; it could be days, or, God forbid, weeks before another group of Enclave soldiers shows up here. If you want to fight, we can go take out a couple groups of mutants or ghouls; the world would be better off without those freaks. If you manage to impress me, I might even see if I can help you join the Enclave, although you'd have to be pretty damn good to impress me." Victor finished, downing what remained of his bourbon.

[Tayner]

Victor Robinson,
L'Auberge Casino

"The name's Robinson, Victor Robinson; Enclave soldier for seventeen years, ever since I turned eighteen. As for killing bandits, I think I'll pass; it's easy as fuck to kill raiders, since I have yet to meet a single one that actually has training or equipment good enough to match the Enclave, and selling the garbage they call weapons and armor yields a decent amount of caps, but I'm not here to make caps. I'm here on Enclave orders. I came to Louisiana with five other Enclave troops, in a strike team of six members, on a mission, however, our vertibird crashed on the way here and I was the only survivor. I'm currently waiting for a second Enclave expedition to show up so I can join with them and get back to my mission. If I were here for caps, I'd probably just do some work as a mercenary. It's not like there would be any other mercenaries with my level of training, experience, and equipment." Victor explained, taking off his helmet and taking a drink of bourbon, revealing his face.

"If you're feeling like fighting, though, I'm always up for killing. I usually wouldn't waste the microfusion cells doing off-duty fighting, but, it ain't like I got anything better to do; it could be days, or, God forbid, weeks before another group of Enclave soldiers shows up here. If you want to fight, we can go take out a couple groups of mutants or ghouls; the world would be better off without those freaks. If you manage to impress me, I might even see if I can help you join the Enclave, although you'd have to be pretty damn good to impress me." Victor finished, downing what remained of his bourbon.

"How about I kill a fucking mutant cork with a knife? "Gunny said. " Have you seen those fuckers, the other day. One took eight shotgun shells untill it stoped kicking, and two more to be shure. I know where to find one. Hey, meet me in the Redwood Inn, and I could hook you up with some firearms, so you don't waste your micro fusion cells. Just give me a day." Gunny offered. The last time Gunny got his hands on a micro fusion cell with a charge, was years ago. " Well I'm going to kill bandits south of here, you find me at the Redwood Inn tommarow and we'll talk. Deal?" Gunny said to Victor.

[Kazarogkai]

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

*BANG*

*BOOM*

"MY ARM!!!"

*SCREECH*

"FIRE!!!"

The sounds of war sounded all around me as my troops did their bloody work, and while my enemy did theirs. This siege had been going on for 7 whole days now, it''s peak had long since concluded though. My enemy had been pushed to the edge and one could sense quite easily they were on their breaking point. The town with it's strategic location had made an ideal stronghold for it's owners allowing them to put up a stiff resistance against my own. 40 men, that is the ones I have lost in this fight, 40 men and many many supplies ranging from stimpacks to food and ammo. My forces had been after the 5th day able to break the enemy and push them deep into the settlement and we had as of now reduced the enemy to a few well fortified houses the most prominent being the mayors where I and my staff had estimated that 50% of the enemy force probably inhabited. I walked among the front lines and walked up a rather large building and surveyed the town. Smoke was seen all across, many the buildings had been reduced to nothing but piles of rubles. I though to myself "This would be my kingdom soon, and what a sight it was. Certainly not a pretty one." I chuckled a little and finally went down, one of my young staff men came to me and asked me in a rather timid voice: "Captain Batholomew has requested the use of the siege mortars sir. He says he needs them desperately to break down the stone walls of the mayors home". I pondered the request and let it roll in my tongue for a bit and simply asked him nonchalantly: "He has already taken the liberty to do so hasn't he?" the staff man gave a quick nod and I dismissed him. I simply thought how much of a hot head that one was, but then reasoned simply that he was quite effective at his job so it made up for it in the end. Anyways even if he was a problem down the road better to mick him for all he is worth and then quickly eliminate him later after his use had expire in some type of quiet "accident" to say the least. Almost immediately I heard a great sound followed by a mimic soon after:

*BANG*

*BANG*

"AHHH"

*SWOOSH*

*CRUNCH*

The sound of the mortars was a rather distinctive one that could not be mistaken for another across the land, it shook one to the very core rendering one like an infant in it's very presence. With careful engineering we were able to construct the deadly devices for this siege and had finished with it last night, when dawn arrived one could just smell the distinctive smell of s*** when they were both unleashed onto their first target. The enemy utterly and completely disoriented practically just walked out of the wreckage dazed and confused, they were gunned down almost immediately. For the most part they were used to attack particularly troublesome enemy positions, though this was done sparingly for the amount of resources needed to simply use them was rather large. As I made my way into my tent I think I could hear the screams of my enemies as my troops began their assault upon their position. I made my way onto a nice comfy chair, got a good cup of tea, and simply relaxed and waited for a messenger to come and deliver me the news that was sure to come, and for my staff to come and meet me so that we could have are council meeting on developments of the day. And so the siege continued, just like life which everyone knows is so very long.

[Fascist Russian Empire]

Victor Robinson,
L'Auberge Casino

"Yeah, sure, I suppose I can do that. Killing mutants is as good a way to spend time as any, especially if I don't need to waste my own fucking ammo. I just need to know two things; first, where the hell is the Redwood Inn, and second, I didn't get your name?" Victor said to Gunny, figuring that hunting some mutants with Gunny would be a decent way to spend time. He would have preferred it if the Enclave would get their fat asses into Baton Rouge so he could resume his mission, but since that wasn't likely to happen for a good while, Victor decided he might as well try and fight ways to enjoy his time while he was stuck in this backwater town. What the fuck was taking the Enclave so long, Victor didn't know, but what he did know was he was already getting tired of sitting around and doing nothing while everyone else took their sweet ass time coming into town. Hell, for all Victor knew, the rest of the Enclave was already in New Orleans.

[Tayner]

Victor Robinson,
L'Auberge Casino

"Yeah, sure, I suppose I can do that. Killing mutants is as good a way to spend time as any, especially if I don't need to waste my own fucking ammo. I just need to know two things; first, where the hell is the Redwood Inn, and second, I didn't get your name?" Victor said to Gunny, figuring that hunting some mutants with Gunny would be a decent way to spend time. He would have preferred it if the Enclave would get their fat asses into Baton Rouge so he could resume his mission, but since that wasn't likely to happen for a good while, Victor decided he might as well try and fight ways to enjoy his time while he was stuck in this backwater town. What the fuck was taking the Enclave so long, Victor didn't know, but what he did know was he was already getting tired of sitting around and doing nothing while everyone else took their sweet ass time coming into town. Hell, for all Victor knew, the rest of the Enclave was already in New Orleans.

"The Redwood Inn is near the south side of the town, it has a sign that says 'Redwood Inn'. Anyways I'm headed out to kill some bandits. Name's Smith." Gunny offered a hand shake. Not many people knew his name in town, and he intended to keep it that way. He needed to lay on the down low. "Here, this should cover a room for tonight" Gunny said offering some caps to Victor. " if you need something to do, there is a serial killer on the lose. Maybe find a lead on him or something. if you need me, don't go asking around, just wait at the Redwood Inn."

[Lingria]

Jule Denny Sawyer
Jule pulled himself off the porch and walked inside the house "Pa!, We really need to get these boards fixed!" Walking into his room he was surprised to find his sister sitting on his bed naked "Eh......Sister, What are you doing?" Jule slowly slid to his drawer "Well, Brother as you know. We are soon to be married" His eyes went wide when she said marriage "Sister, Are you sure you want that?" He asked in generosity "Yes Brother," -Screen goes black-
When Jule woke up he found his sister to be gone, Rubbing his eyes he yawned "Ugh......I've got a headache" Rubbing his head he went to his dresser and pulled out the Dirty Chinese Jumpsuit "Okay, Time to get ready" Putting on the jumpsuit he walked out of his room and out the front door, "Hmph, It's dark" Unsheathing his Chinese Assault Rifle he started East towards New Orleans

[New Armarzia]

Solis et Umbra
Twin Lakes Fort

Solis et Umbra stood before a large, dining table in a large candle-lit room. Three others also stood around the table: a woman wearing common clothing among caravaners, a man in blue jeans and a green flannel shirt, and legion scout in the garb of the position. On the table was an old map of the state of Louisiana, an intact relic one of Solis et Umbra's scouts were able to find in an abandoned gas station on the border of Texas and Louisiana. The scout pointed to a section of the map and said, "One of my men was scouting the outskirts of this here city, it is occupied by fairly well-armed force, though it seems this group solely exists in the city. Based on the reports of my other men, this is likely the closest settlement that wouldn't be considered a tribe. Another one of my scouts reported spotting organized patrols here, to the North." The scout, who was the head of all the scouts under Solis et Umbra's command, moved his finger up and slightly to the left. "Assuming they are based out of the ruins of an old city they would most likely becoming from here, Alexandria."

Solis et Umbra looked at the letters above the dot he pointed to, but they meant nothing to the Centurion who never learned to read or write. Thankfully, he never needed to read or write for his job and likely never would. He didn't care for the words of an old world that failed, and he didn't want to read of the exploits of ancient heroes and lands long past because he wanted people to read tales of himself and he was sure he would gain the fame he wanted through conquest. However, everyone else in the room knew how to read as they needed to for their duties, the explorer and his scouts needed to read to find landmarks and scout out areas based upon relics such as this map. The other two were Frumentarii who needed to understand the written language for a whole host of reasons that Solis et Umbra didn't care for.

The male Frumentarii spoke, pointing back at the city of Lafayette primarily to help the Centurion know where he was talking about, "It may be in our best interests to establish relations with the people of this settlement well before we actually spread this far. If we are too close they may perceive us as a threat, I say it is best to establish relations early so they will see us as friends when your forces arrive at their doorstep."

"No," said Solis et Umbra plainly. "We do not exist in these lands, while it may prevent devastating combat in the future, revealing ourselves to these people may also cause others to learn of us. And I have little faith all of the people of this land will be wise enough to befriend the vanguards of the legion. I fear such open diplomacy may just cause futures foes to march on us earlier then they were destined to." The large Centurion, turned to directly face the male Frumentarii and continued. "Help our friends among The Blood Willows to realize the advantages of establishing relations primarily that of trade with this city. Then when the time comes when we must reveal ourselves to this settlement, we can do it with favorable standing."

When the centurion was finished the sound of creaking footsteps from the ancient plantations house's floor could be heard and a red-haired young woman in the garb of slaves stood in the entrance. With her head bent towards the floor either out of fear or respect the slave quietly stammered, "C-centurion, the blacksmith, Marcus, has finished forging th-the blade you requested."

Solis et Umbra was concerned by the stammering of the young lady, it implied someone was harassing her, causing her to be scared. While Solis et Umbra saw himself superior to the slaves as most legionnaires, he viewed as pets rather then property. A pet needed to be cared for, so that it would care for you as well. Where as property was simply owned. He would have to figure out what was the cause of this eventually, but now he was busy with important business. He said, "Thank you, inform the blacksmith that I would like to see this blade before the Sun falls." The slave nodded quickly and turned to leave with haste . Solis et Umbra turned towards the blonde, fame Frumentarri and said, "What progress have you made so far?"

"Nothing definite," she began, "but a caravan who was seeking to trade with some tribes mentioned that their is a vault rumored to be somewhere in the ruins of New Orleans, here." She pointed to the large city on the other side of the map. "Not much more then that, and even they said it is likely nothing more then rumors."

Solis et Umbra let out a long breath before saying, "That is most unfortunate." He leaned on the table, looking down on the map. He didn't really know how to read a map, but even he could tell that this city was far away. "See if you can follow up on this rumor, if it is true then there is little we can do given our current circumstances." Solis et Umbra turned his neck to look at the explorer, Polybius, and addressed him, "Have some of your men continue to gather information on this group to the North. I'd like to know if pursuing the North would be favorable to our cause or not." Solis et Umbra took one last look at the map before pushing off the table and standing straight. He looked to his three agents and said, "That is all, I ask that you proceed with light feet." The three left leaving the Centurion to ponder to himself in the light of the candles.

[SaintB]

Howdy baby, Crawdaddy again!

Who or what is the Enclave? Crawdaddy doesn't know brothers and sisters but what Crawdaddy does know is that they seem to have arrived here in Loseeana as of recently.

Up in Providence City way a man clad in strange armor and armed to the teeth in plasma weaponry has arrived seeking bourbon and blackjack and perhaps some fair company but Crawdaddy aint gonna judge no siree. He's bivouacked in town and seems to be waiting for something but what is that something?

A little ways out from the ruins a Baton Rouge at an undisclosed location some salvagers discovered the half submerged wreckage of a strange machine they believe could fly but they say they couldn't get to it cuz a big ol' gator has taken up residence there and aint in no mood to be taking his leave of the place anytime soon. They did get close enough though brothers and sisters to see a great big letter E emblazoned on the side of the thing surrounded by a ring of stars.

Is that the Enclave? Is it just part of the Enclave? Is this all a wacky conspiracy theory and an eleborate prank to get ol' Crawdaddy Jenkins to report it for laughs?

Whatever it is it has CJ's attention now man.

And if you see that weird 'flying' machine and that big ol' gator then maybe you can charm him into going away by working a little mojo...

[Neo-Chicago]

Jeremiah, Haven of St. Louis Exterior

"It's no use, we must find a way to call all those with similar values to ours to us." Jeremiah said, after another failed attempt at recruiting from Rat City.
"But what can we do? We'd need to practically go from home to home and speak to each of them!" says General Isaac, annoyed at Jeremiah's continuous attempts at recruiting, when they had a reasonable army as it was.
"Isaac-" Jeremiah was saying, when he saw another one, another sign. "Look, up there it's a cross... no, a tower!" he said, almost zealously. Jeremiah saw a wire running to a small building nearby. "Follow me!" he ordered, surprised that this wire hadn't snapped like many others. "It's a miracle! Our God has provided us with a means of killing the vampires!" he cheered, although the general was still somewhat confused. "And look, records! Intact records!" he exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. Jeremiah, when not reading from the Bible, he had read from books about music, things such as vinyl records and instruments.
An inquisitor had followed them into the small studio. "You know, if you want this radio station as a recruitment station, you'll need someone to speak when songs aren't playing." he said.
"Are you suggesting that we allow you to run the radio station, Jacob?" asked Jeremiah, smirking. The inquisitor furiously nodded, anxious. "Alright. I'll be listening in though, so don't try to do anything against what God would do." said Jeremiah...

Jacob, The Haven Broadcast

"Hellooooo Louisiana! I'm Radio DJ Jacob Crownley, you can call me JC, but don't mistake me for the lord and savior himself! If you see any vampires, head on down to the Haven of St. Louis, right near Rat City! We're looking for warriors to fight the battle, against the evil! So come down here if you feel like saving your soul and killing some baddies making the bayou hell for the rest of us! Now, in commemoration of the Gatekeepers reaching out and fighting the good fight, here's Louis Armstrong!"

[SaintB]

Snip

"The Front", Northern Louisiana
Snippy

Rocky

Rocky caught the bag and started to toss the piles of assorted loot into it wondering what the hell jengals were but decided that later would be a better time to bring up questions like that and just get out of here before one showed up and he found out the hard way. He flipped the selector on the carbine to safe (remember kids!) and headed after the man known as D when his boot kicked something hard and round that must have been underneath one of the bodies. He knelt down to pick it up and BINGO. "Hey, check it out D. Pork N' Beans."

Rocky displayed the can triumphantly to his new comrade and guide in 'The Front' before stuffing it into the satchel and following after the man who had obviously way more experience and knowledge in this area than he did, "So where on the map is 'The Front?' It's been weeks since I have been somewhere where the locals didn't want to rob me."

[Tayner]

Gunny had been raiding raider camps all day ( Irony Leve, High ) . He could easily get five hundred caps off their gear an loot. He then headed back towards Province to meet up with his new friend. He also found some nice new guns that he would keep.

1 Assault Carbine
2 pulse grenades
1 sniper rifle.

He'd give the sniper rifle to Victor after he repaired it. He kept walking to the town, and the walk was short. A half hour later he was sitting at the Redwood Inn. He didn't see Victor, maybe he was in a room or outside. So he just started striping down a hunting rifle for parts for the sniper rifle. After he fixed the gun, he'd sell the loot.

[Ontorisa]

"The Front", Northern Louisiana
Snippy

Snip

"The Front", Northern Louisiana

"Man, you're not actually going to eat that stuff right? The native wildlife loves the smell of tin canned shit out here. Toss it over there." Monet looked at the can of Pork and Beans before pointing over the ridge. "Believe me, day 1 out here, I opened up a thing of canned fruits and within minutes I had a couple of Jengals on my ass. Oh, by the way, Jengals are these little bastard dog-like things that bite and jump at you constantly. They roam here in packs of nine to twelve and basically swarm and eat you, not to intimidate you or anything."

Monet slung his rifle off of his shoulder and crouched down, surveying the surrounding area before standing back up. He glanced back at Rocky before sitting down and taking out his canteen of water, gulping down a couple of drops of water before putting the canteen away.

"Anyways, the Front is this area. It's the unofficial name for the northern passage that leads to Mississippi to the north. It's a pretty used passage, and it's fantastic for hunting in." Monet explained, while maintaining his gaze across the empty desert-like top of the valley. "Hurry up, come on, before anything shows up."

[SaintB]

Snip

"The Front", Northern Louisiana

"Man, you're not actually going to eat that stuff right? The native wildlife loves the smell of tin canned shit out here. Toss it over there." Monet looked at the can of Pork and Beans before pointing over the ridge. "Believe me, day 1 out here, I opened up a thing of canned fruits and within minutes I had a couple of Jengals on my ass. Oh, by the way, Jengals are these little bastard dog-like things that bite and jump at you constantly. They roam here in packs of nine to twelve and basically swarm and eat you, not to intimidate you or anything."

Monet slung his rifle off of his shoulder and crouched down, surveying the surrounding area before standing back up. He glanced back at Rocky before sitting down and taking out his canteen of water, gulping down a couple of drops of water before putting the canteen away.

"Anyways, the Front is this area. It's the unofficial name for the northern passage that leads to Mississippi to the north. It's a pretty used passage, and it's fantastic for hunting in." Monet explained, while maintaining his gaze across the empty desert-like top of the valley. "Hurry up, come on, before anything shows up."

Rocky shrugged, "It'll stay sealed, I hope we have dinner reservations though.", he joked as he picked up his pace to follow the hunter and placed the can in his own pack.

"I'll hang on to it if you don't mind since I'm not quite that great of a hunter and I'm a stranger to these parts so won't know what is edible or not. Like say for instance are those jengals edible? Sounds to me like with the proper setup you could trap a bunch of them at once." he mused aloud.

"And so if I've been traveling in a general southerly direction and up north is Mississippi than this must be Louisiana. Never thought I'd get this far, came up from Maryland way, Washington DC and the surrounding area hundreds of miles from here."

[Carathon]

Brotherhood of Steel Outcasts
Paladin Lord Brandon Avellone

Natchez, Louisiana

Ryan Crestwood has heard the tales of this 'Brotherhood of Steel' camped out on the East coast. Rumor said they had a massive cache of advanced technology, using it to battle mutants, raiders and other mercenaries in relentless warfare in the ruins of the capital of the Old World. They were made up to be valiant warriors, immaculate knights of yore - only armed with laser rifles.

But these men weren't knights, though they certainly had laser rifles.

Paladin Lord Brandon Avellone marched into Natchez, the small sleepy hovel on the outskirts of the deep, 'proper' parts of Louisiana. Behind him, were his Paladins, armoured in T-51b power armor, followed by knights armored primarily in T-45d power armor who formed a circle around the Initiates and Scribes, carrying supplies, tending to the wounded, and protecting the robots and scribes. Avellone was a intimidating figure, armored in stylized chemically hardened T-51b power armor, a power fist mounted upon his left hand, ( little did Ryan know, was married to the skeleton of his cybernetic prothestic left hand ) a super sledge, various energy weapons along with a red cloak and gorget - symbols of his authority.

These men were not chivalrous, though at first they made good business. Briskly, they laid down piles of firearms and armor they appeared not to value. They accepted no barter, merely laying down what they had and taking what they thought it was worth in medicine and food. Their harsh armored visages and the cold eyes of the largely combat-armor equipped initiates cowed the towns-folk into submission. Ryan, however, made the foolish mistake of retrieving a few plasma pistols and micro-fusion cells that his predecessor had looted from god-knows-where a long time ago, and presenting them to Brandon.

"Very well." He motioned a plated hand to several of his initiates, who dutifully forced Ryan to the ground and took the merchandise. Frowning, Ryan stumbled up, pouting. "What's with the bloody stringy-ness all of a sudden? You tin-cans paid us for the rest of the supplies, you can't just steal-" As the mayor saw the 'Lord-Paladin' move in a lightning flash of swirling metal, he had only a moment to regret his sudden outburst before cold, composite-ceramic fingers grasped around the scruff of his neck, and pulled him face-to-helmet with Brandon Avellone, who held him as if a disobedient puppy.

"We did not steal anything. You are the thieves here, Wastelanders." The voice boomed out, strengthened by the amplifiers in the helmet. Ryan could find any strength to resist, or even speak. "Perhaps you should be grateful. Whilst you sit on your haunches in filth and muck, we sacrifice ourselves so your children and grand-children can live in a world that isn't a swamp-filled, degenerate ruin." He spat, disgusted as he tossed the mayor back onto the ground. Turning back to face his men, he supervised a brief period of land, ignoring the town-folk who scurried back into their hovels like rats, futilely grasping shotguns and rifles in comfort more then any realistic chance of defense from the Brotherhood. The Mayor himself remained on the ground, his legs having turned to jelly, betrayed him and he felt bile rising from his stomach into his throat.

Suddenly, a smooth, soothing jazz-filled voice with a Cajun accent broke the silence, dawn air, it's source a humble radio sitting on a crude, wooden table.

Howdy baby, Crawdaddy again!

Who or what is the Enclave? Crawdaddy doesn't know brothers and sisters but what Crawdaddy does know is that they seem to have arrived here in Loseeana as of recently.

Up in Providence City way a man clad in strange armor and armed to the teeth in plasma weaponry has arrived seeking bourbon and blackjack and perhaps some fair company but Crawdaddy aint gonna judge no siree. He's bivouacked in town and seems to be waiting for something but what is that something?

A little ways out from the ruins a Baton Rouge at an undisclosed location some salvagers discovered the half submerged wreckage of a strange machine they believe could fly but they say they couldn't get to it cuz a big ol' gator has taken up residence there and aint in no mood to be taking his leave of the place anytime soon. They did get close enough though brothers and sisters to see a great big letter E emblazoned on the side of the thing surrounded by a ring of stars.

Is that the Enclave? Is it just part of the Enclave? Is this all a wacky conspiracy theory and an eleborate prank to get ol' Crawdaddy Jenkins to report it for laughs?

Whatever it is it has CJ's attention now man.

And if you see that weird 'flying' machine and that big ol' gator then maybe you can charm him into going away by working a little mojo...

"Lord Avellone!"

"My Lord did you hear that!?"

"Impossible, we destroyed them!"

The panic went up among the initiates, excited the Knights and even uneased the Paladins and scribes. Brandon however, heard none of it. He was frozen in place, fists clenched. His mouth was dry, and his swallowing felt like his throat was made of sandpaper. The Enclave? No, that idiot must be mistaken. They were utterly annihilated at the Oil Rig, a few years before I was born... Even within his power armor, Senior Paladin Johnson could sense when his old comrade was troubled, and placed a hand upon his pauldron, speaking loud enough for the entire Brotherhood to hear.

"Do not be fools and give into everything you hear. This man, if he and this mythical vertibird even exists, is likely naught but some fortunate scavenger, stumbling upon a old enclave crash, looting the power armor and weaponry, and using the proceeds from what he could see to become drunk and squander it upon gambling."

Brandon exhaled. "Regardless, Baton Rouge is on the route to New Orleans. We march swiftly down what-ever roads we can find, and we investigate this so-called Enclave crash-site on the way." This seemed agreeable, and like the phantoms of chevaliers, they soon disappeared in the direction of Baton Rouge, leaving a village and a stunned Ryan stumbling up to his feet, bitterly remarking at their dust trail.

"Tin-cunts."

[Elerian]

Mayor Gregor Bolden
Providence

Gregor was unsettled by the girl's smile, it was as if her words meant one thing, but her eyes told another story entirely. Gregor clenched his fists but hid them beneath the desk so they were out of sight. Gregor may have known what kind of family background she came from, but whether she could find the Plugger was another story entirely. Gregor knew from spies and an assortment of other sources of information that most of this girl's life had been devoted to warfare, not crime. He had no doubts about her military prowess, but when it came to catching criminals, his son was the best in Providence, maybe even in all of Louisiana, but he was dead. But that didn't matter, all that mattered now was that the bastard was found, so for just this once, he humored Tamerlane.

"Miss Tamerlane, I don't doubt your prowess, but do you really think this is the kind of work for a soldier of fortune? Regardless I would be glad to have your help. My son supposedly had a lead on the killer, and was following up on it when he was slain. I wish I could tell you what that lead was but they found his body near the Bridge so the killer likely lived, or at least operated near there. That's the most I can do for you, but unless you have any further questions, I have business to attend to."

[Ontorisa]

Snip

Rocky shrugged, "It'll stay sealed, I hope we have dinner reservations though.", he joked as he picked up his pace to follow the hunter and placed the can in his own pack.

"I'll hang on to it if you don't mind since I'm not quite that great of a hunter and I'm a stranger to these parts so won't know what is edible or not. Like say for instance are those jengals edible? Sounds to me like with the proper setup you could trap a bunch of them at once." he mused aloud.

"And so if I've been traveling in a general southerly direction and up north is Mississippi than this must be Louisiana. Never thought I'd get this far, came up from Maryland way, Washington DC and the surrounding area hundreds of miles from here."

"The Front", Northern Louisiana

"Sounds like you've never been here before," Monet called without looking back at Rocky. "Jengal meat tastes like horse's ass mixed with dog piss and swamp water. It's unhealthy, it's disgusting and it pisses off other Jengals because they can smell the cooked meat on you."

Turning around while walking backwards, Monet lifted his arms as if he were introducing Rocky to the Front. He smiled as he pulled out a pair of aviator glasses to cover his eyes from the now harsh sunlight.

"Bienvenue à the Front, monsieur." Monet grinned as he spoke in French. "C'est le premier passage a le Mississippi."

Turning back around and continuing to walk forward, Monet lost his grin as he continued walking forward before starting to talk again. He wanted to get back to a village or something and sell the equipment there. He had to be careful though, because the locals could clearly see that Rocky was new and he could easily be swindled into deals he wouldn't enjoy, probably.

"Keep the pork and beans if you want," Monet nodded, looking back again. "but don't open it until we're in a village or something. If we're caught out here by a pack of Jengals, no matter how many bullets you have in that rifle of yours, we're dead. I'll make sure I give you some of my food. It's both good for you and it's tasty."

[Fascist Russian Empire]

Victor Robinson,
L'Auberge Casino

"Alright, thanks, I guess. Can't say I'm likely to need you for anything, since there's basically nothing a member of the Enclave can't do, but thanks for the offer, I suppose, Mr. Smith. I'll see you tomorrow then; farewell." Victor said to 'Smith' before he left, Victor finishing off the rest of his bourbon, spending a couple more hours gambling, and deciding that he had gotten bored of drinking and gambling. Fuck it, I'm sure I can find something actually interesting to do. Maybe I'll do some work for the fucking locals, and get some caps to waste on more ammo, provided these fucking ignorant assholes even have any God damn microfusion cells for sale; it would be a waste of time, providing my services to these uneducated punks, but at least it would be more interesting than sitting on my ass drinking and gambling all day long. Victor thought, trying to decide upon something that would be fun to do. Victor really didn't care about making caps, and didn't really factor that into his decision; he wasn't fighting with the Enclave for caps, he was doing it out of a sense of loyalty to the Enclave cause.

Nothing immediately coming to mind, Victor got up and headed back over to the casino cashier, turning in his chips for caps before he left. He had won a whole fifty caps, which, of course, was virtually nothing. Just as he was getting ready to leave, though, he was interrupted by some radio host who was clueless as to who the Enclave were announce the discovery of his team's crashed vertibird. Victor couldn't help but sneer at Crawdaddy's ignorance; it seemed like there wasn't a single person in the Louisiana wasteland who actually knew a damn thing about the Enclave. At least he wasn't stupid enough to announce the crashed vertibird's location; alligators weren't the only threat nearby the crash site. After the vertibird had crashed and Victor confirmed that his comrades were all dead, the Enclave veteran had placed several proximity mines in and around the wrecked vertibird to fend off scavengers. Victor was not going to allow the dead bodies of his Enclave comrades to be looted, and have some thieving scavenger bastard profit from the deaths of Victor's friends. He could have just stripped the dead soldiers of their weapons and armor, and carried them with him so he could turn them in to the next Enclave expedition to show up, but Victor wasn't going to loot his dead comrades; good soldiers had died in that vertibird crash, and Victor figured that the very least they deserved was to have an undisturbed burial site. He would never let a fellow Enclave soldier's body be treated like some dead raider, having their equipment and weapons looted and sold by some disrespectful scavenger; he had too much respect for his fellow soldiers to do that.

Anybody who managed to find the crashed vertibird without getting killed by the wildlife, and then tried to loot the weapons and power armor inside, would most likely be blown up by proximity mines. It would serve them right for trying to steal from the Enclave, Victor figured. After failing to come up with anything else to do, Victor just decided to go see if Smith had anything in mind that he could waste his time doing; if Smith weren't at the Redwood Inn, or if he could think of fuck-all for Victor to do, Victor would probably just find work for some local or another. He didn't care about the caps, but at least it would be something to do, and it would help give the Enclave a good reputation in the Wasteland, not that it really mattered what these ignorant, uneducated civilians thought of the Enclave. After a somewhat brief walk, Victor found his way to the inn Smith had been talking about, with Smith himself inside.

"Well, if it ain't Mr. Smith. Figured I'd see you here. I was looking for a good way to waste my time, and I thought maybe you would have something in mind." Victor said, bluntly, to Smith. Victor was a straight to the point kind of guy, and tended to be upfront about something. If Smith didn't know something Victor could waste his time doing, then Victor figured he might as well just head to the leader of the God forsaken city and ask for work; it would be better than standing around all day, doing fuck-all.