Fallout: Louisiana Blues | IC | Closed and Dead |

[Conglomerate of Iron]

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."

"Thank you for your time sir. The killer will be yours within a week at most."

She flashed another smile and exited the office, gathering her weapons as she exited. The Bridge eh? May as well go there and see what happens.....

-------------------------------------

Well, this Bridge is a pretty rundown place, she thought to herself, scanning the area. She was tired and hungry. Maybe a nice smoke and some pork n' beans are needed.

She lit up her cigarette as the beans cooked on the skillet over the fire. She sprinkled it with some seasoning and monitored the area as she smoked......

[Neo-Chicago]

Jacob, The Haven Broadcast

"Hellooooo wastelanders! DJ JC here, and I strongly suggest you come down to New Orleans to check out the Haven of St. Louis, where we're fighting the vampire scourge best we can. Unfortunately, one of our fighters sent up to the swamps around Baton Rouge disappeared. So please, if you have any word, come down to the Haven, hopefully with Inquisitor Joseph along with you, safe and sound. Until then, we're waiting for word from Providence that old Joe found something up in those hellish swamps, just up that lazy river."

Jerimiah, The Haven of St. Louis

"Well, I think we're going to have to face the facts. Joseph's probably been killed by whatever's up in the swamps by Providence. I told Jacob to mention it in his broadcast, maybe we'll get word he's safe." said Jeremiah, lighting up a cigarette.
"Alright, but when they do find him, or if he's dead, whatever the hell killed him, there's gonna be hell to pay. I know you're probably taking it worse than the rest of us, but don't take responsibility for it, Jerry." replied Senior Knight Sarah. She was probably what you would call Jeremiah's romantic interest, except he didn't really see it that way. Then again, he was mostly oblivious to the fact entirely.
"I told you that I don't like being called Jerry." he told her, taking a drag. "But we haven't even come close to eradicating those vampires, they're the real problem. The way I see it, the only thing this publicity is doing is keeping them out of the area." Jeremiah finished, stressed out. The hazmat suit was hanging up on the wall of his room, and he was sitting in a chair that was mostly pushed into a desk.
"The problem is that they're not exactly based in New Orleans. Joseph heading to Baton Rouge was something, but we need to take a boat from the area. The Mississippi is practically in the Haven's front yard." Sarah said, and what she said was true. If it wasn't for the Jackson Swamp, they would be beachside from the Mississippi. Partially beached was a very large steamboat with the word 'Natchez' plastered on the side of it. It was almost directly straight ahead from the cathedral. It seemed to have been coming from a small dock to Natchez, presumably, when the bombs struck. It was actually called the S.S. Natchez, and was presumably full of wildlife that had made a new home. Jeremiah had been considering starting repairs on it for a while, now.
"I'll think about it. We don't have the skills to do it, though. We're not even sure what's wrong with it." Jeremiah answered, and with that, he got up and shut the door of his room, Sarah having been standing in his doorway.

[SaintB]

Snipped

Rocky, 'The Front'

Jengals sounded like Rocky's least favorite type of animal, dangerous, annoying, and inedible. Perhaps he should devote his time to launching an extermination campaign just based off of that man's description of them, or at least he would if he could run a successful campaign of extermination against the scum like the raiders, slavers, pirates, and murderers that he was bound to find in Louisiana. Monet turned toward Rocky and grinned, throwing his arms out in an exaggerated gesture, "Bienvenue à the Front, monsieur. C'est le premier passage a le Mississippi."

Rocky smirked, he liked this Mr. Monet so far. Like himself he was quite the character, "Well then strike up the brass band!" he exclaimed, turning on a small portable radio he had found on one of the corpses and it crackled to life playing a jazz rendition of 'When the Saint's go Marching In.'

He just as quickly shut it off and gave a kind of quizzical look at D. Monet. He felt it building up inside of him and tried to hold it back down but it didn't work - at first it started with a smirk then a snort and evolved into a chortle that went rolling on into a deep seated belly laugh that if it went on for too long might be painful. He could barely keep his feet he was laughing so hard now but he managed to choke out in a high pitched and hoarse voice, "Oh my... I can... I can't... what are.. the... the fuck... the fucking chances?", he tried to catch his breath and failed miserably as he was overtaken by a continuous wave of laughter, "It's... gotta... be... be one... be one in a... fucking... million chances!"

He looked toward the hunter, still laughing but not nearly as hard now, tears of mirth carving trails through the dust on his face from under his shades wondering if it was as funny for him too. Rocky needed a good damn laugh, and here it was.

[Elerian]

Providence Bridge

There were several other PI's working loosely together near the site of the last murder, that had occurred almost a week ago. A rough chalk line had been drawn around the corpse, but the corpse of course wasn't there. Blood stains marked the spots where the body had been tossed off the bridge to the pavement below. No one else was visible save for the PI's who hadn't appeared to have found anything useful, however it would soon be dark and their investigation would end shortly.

Little did the PI's know that the killer was watching nearby. They stood atop a building watching through a pair of binoculars. However, anyone on the ground would be able to see them, as they were obscured by an assortment of debris. Once Tamerlane arrived, the killer licked their lips, they'd found their new target . . .

[Conglomerate of Iron]

Providence Bridge

There were several other PI's working loosely together near the site of the last murder, that had occurred almost a week ago. A rough chalk line had been drawn around the corpse, but the corpse of course wasn't there. Blood stains marked the spots where the body had been tossed off the bridge to the pavement below. No one else was visible save for the PI's who hadn't appeared to have found anything useful, however it would soon be dark and their investigation would end shortly.

Little did the PI's know that the killer was watching nearby. They stood atop a building watching through a pair of binoculars. However, anyone on the ground would be able to see them, as they were obscured by an assortment of debris. Once Tamerlane arrived, the killer licked their lips, they'd found their new target . . .

Sami finished up her smoke and dinner. She figured she may as well talk to the PI's before they left. Stretching, she cracked her back and walked towards them.

"Hey, see anything interesting? Any leads whatsoever?" She called out to the PI's in general.

[Elerian]

Providence Bridge

Most of the PI's continued on with their business, as if they hadn't heard her question. She was an outsider, and they didn't want to share any of their non-existent clues with an unknown party. So, most of them that had been formulating theories in their heads kept their eyes on the ground. Save for one of the younger lawmen, he walked over to Tamerlane and extended a gloved hand in greeting.

"Don't mind them, they've found a whole lot of nothin', same as every other lawman who's taken a crack at this case. Save, of course, teh Mayor's son. The name's Truman, pleasure to meet ya."

---

I-10, West of Defiance
Sokarus

Sokar looked down at the road from a ways away. A tree had been chopped down over the highway recently to halt traffic, and off in the bushes a number of brigands sat waiting. Sokar had spotted another slow moving caravan a ways back, so once he’d found the bandits, he’d waited for the caravan to catch up. He couldn’t get a clear shot off the raiders til they came out to greet the caravan, and only then could he give his long unused marksmanship skills a refreshing. Almost an hour passed and then the caravan came into full view. Three merchants with five guards, they were better armed than the raiders, but the raiders outnumbered them two to one, and had the element of surprise. A minute later the caravan had stopped a hundred or so meters from the tree as three of the guards went to look around, with their weapons drawn.

Suddenly a spear came flying out of the brush and flew a mere inch away from the leading guard’s head. It took a second for the guards to realize this was an ambush, but by then a half dozen more spears were flying out from the bushes, followed by a dozen tribals. The lead guard took a spear in the gut and one of the ones behind him was hit in the leg, but they started loosing rounds into the screaming raiders, downing two in the matter of a few moments.

But Sokar was ready too, taking in a breath and letting some of it out, he took a shot as soon as the tribals burst from the brush, missing his target but hitting a nearby savage behind him. Damn I’m rusty, Sokar thought to himself as he took another shot at his original target, scoring a hit to his abdomen. He released the last of his breath and took aim on the tribal closest to the wounded guard. His friend, a female guard was already running back to the relative safety of the caravan with several tribals hot on her heels. Sokar took the shot and blew the weapon hand off the tribal. The man screamed and fell to the ground with blood spouting from where his hand had once been. But Sokar couldn’t help the downed man; another tribal jumped past the first and stuck an axe between the eyes of his helpless foe.

The rest of the caravan began opening fire on the tribals, killing one, and wounding another. But those that could still walk ran back to the bushes, they’d been defeated. The caravaneers slowly walked to their fallen comrades and checked on the guard with the spear in his gut. Even from this distance Sokar could tell the man would die tonight, or if he was unlucky, in the coming days. But once they were done checking their men, the caravaneers looked around for their mysterious guardian, which was Sokar’s queue to leave. He was close to a place called Defiance, but he still had quite a ways to go to get to New Orleans.

[Palonitr and Howland]

The Front, Northern Louisiana, West of Vicksburg

Urban sighed and thanked whatever entity there was that he had gotten out of the ruins of Vicksburg unscathed. No one could cross over to the old pre war state of the Missisipi. A tribal war of epic proportions had erupted during his passage through the ruined city. It was a battle royal between at least a dozen tribes, ghouls, riverlurks and a small group of super muntants. Though now he and Beatrice, his pack Brahmin, had to deal with travelling through what he though was Lousiana. He had heard stories from his childhood that there were mutated crocs that were 20 feet in lenght and tribals who did not look any bit like humans.

A while later...
He had been walking for a while and had made the decision to keep his occupation hidden as much as he could. Considering that there maybe bounty hunters and assasins after him. He suddenly became alert as he heard two men laughing. He loaded his shotgun and started sneaking slowly. He stood up and pointed his gun at the two men from on top of the rubble of a old house. He shouted, "PUT YOUR HANDS UP AND DON'T DONT EVEN REACH FOR ANYTHING. I'LL BLAST YOU IF YOU MOVE!"

[Kazarogkai]

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

The former town mayor looked upon me with bloodshot eyes set in a battered and bruised face like that of an unfortunate housewife. He keeled before like one kneeling before their god, their judgement and his lips moved pleading for mercy from me. But I could not hear this man, his mouth moved uselessly and no sound came out. He clasped his hands in a prayer like form and seemed to be screaming louder but I still did not hear, still did not care. I pulled out with my hand a combat knife from one of my many on my belt and rubbed the blade with the fingers of the other hand and waited. The pathetic worm before me soon fell silent, soon had rivers coming from his eyes that flew down onto his slightly nicer rags than most jacket, he stopped speaking and shivered. Without a word and with a single swift motion I kicked him upon the face and bought him upon his wide back, his fat belly jiggled like that of a lake that has had a pebble thrown in. I went to his side and bent over taking my knife I cut his neck. He squealed like a pig, a piggy man squealing for life, but as I cut deeper into his flesh the squeals left and turned to gasps and bubbly noises. I continued to cut and he continued to wrack his body in a seizure like format until eventually my knife finally made it all the way threw. I held the now decapitated head up to the sky like an offering, like a well received trophy, and listened to the cheers of my troops as I presented it to them.

The sound came back and I can hear all again Distant gunfire still rang out with the occasional boom here and there all across this town. Battle raged on but only a little, a few strongholds and a few mop ups there. As evidenced by my prize the enemy castle was now gone, the front having collapsed from the power of my 2 siege craft within an hour. Almost immediately taking the initiative my assault teams stormed the building with the support of machine guns and snipers in the back and they themselves armed principally with Bats and combat knives though a few went in with shotguns and pistols. The clash happened in a bang and ended with a whimper in an air of smoke and the smell of blood. Victory was ours this day.

When the sun began to die and the moon began to resurrect from it's deep slumber we retired for the day to are humble abodes, buildings in the town itself which we had taken for are own, though we continued a small guard presence near the "hot spots" to keep watch and be ready for any breakouts that might occur. The next day we would continue are onslaught with the intention of ending it once and for all. We cheered for are gains and lamented are losses and prayed for a better day tomorrow. Many civilians who had been caught in the crossfire had decided it would be their best intention to run and hide in the surrounding countryside or outright leave for better pastures. The latter escaped to surrounding settlements and spread the word of the prospective warlords conquest over the many days that this had been going on to others and soon this was heard in everyone's ears around the county. Knowledge is like butter, it spreads all across and is best served with toast.

[Chrysaor]

From Rat City to Defiance

Hugo had a little mission. His friend Abner kept a small fortune while he was still around, a little lifesaving that would be given to his many many offspring after he’s gone. Now that he was, Rosie broke that piggy bank and divided it among her children most of whom were already in Rat City- except for one.

That one, Cecilia, was Rosie & Abner’s favorite daughter. She was an angel on Earth if half the praises her parents told Hugo were true. She now ran a little shop a few hundred miles away from home in Defiance, living a good life that probably involved blessing newborns with her alleged niceness. Hugo’s mission was to get to her and gave her large amount of caps.

Cecilia’s share of the inheritance was a whopping 100 caps, nearly two-third of Abner’s saving. These folks really loved their daughter, Hugo thought. Rosie would have traveled to Lafayette to see Cecilia herself, but the road was dangerous these days with the bubbling tension between the town and Baton Rouge. So instead, the old woman gave Hugo a large bag filled with money and told him to travel halfway across the state. The man was all too happy to help. Rosie also made him shaved before he headed out, saying he’d need to look proper if he wanted to meet her daughter. Hugo was less happy at that and grumbled in response but complied anyway, he always did.

The ex-Legionnaire had had that beard for years now, ever since that day he left Arizona. It was a disguise at first, then a security blanket that he refused to shave away out of habit. That frazzled beard suited his face, but lately even Hugo felt that it had grew musky and slightly itchy. So he shaved it off, about two-third of it anyway. The man still sported an impressive amount of facial hair but he looked somewhat recognizable now, a vague reflection of the man he was 4 years ago.

So just like that Hugo left Rat City in his traveling gear with Chico at his side and signed up with a caravan heading towards Defiance’s direction. The caravan folks were skeptical of him at first but these people weren’t in any position to turn away help.

Hugo kept to himself during the journey and didn’t ask for much- only one meal each day and a blanket. The days went by without many hiccups except for a few raiders which Chico made short work of. They hit Lafayette just as the sun sank into the ground on the 6th day after their departure. The road was now chockfull of caravans just like theirs, arraying themselves half-in and half-out of the city while stomping, lowing cattle, wagons circled up, and armed wastelanders flowing in and out of the gates. Hugo was incredibly tired and he wasn’t sure why. A bad feeling suddenly came over him as he walked into Defiance, as if he was being watched.

He’d meet Cecilia first thing tomorrow. Right now he’d need a drink.

[Tayner]

"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.

"Well nice to see you too then" Gunny said sarcastically. "Here take this rifle and ammo, so you don't have to waste micro fusions cells. And I did find this." Gunny said to Victor, holding out a sniper rifle, 30 .308 rounds, and a micro fusion cell. "Now it ain't much, but it's enough for what we're doing. There'so a group of ghouls south of here, they're not ferrel, but their like any other bandit. I hear they just came across a lot of caps recently. Enough to keep my room here, and buy you a dozen micro fusion cells. One problem, they are well armed, and they got some anti material rifles with armor piercing ammo. But I got a plan, you in?"

[Fascist Russian Empire]

Victor Robinson

"Wow, a whopping twelve microfusion cells. That's a whole half a clip for my plasma rifle; fat lot of good that's going to do, if the locals here even have energy weapon ammo for sale. Those ghouls must really be raking in the dough, if they have enough caps to buy a whole twelve MF cells. Really, we'd be better off just selling their weapons and armor; anti-material rifles sell for several thousand caps a piece. That'd be enough caps to buy more than a thousand microfusion cells, and probably a couple more energy weapons to boot, if anybody in this backwards town even has energy weapons." Victor said, unenthusiastically, taking the sniper rifle from Smith and holstering it on his back next to his plasma rifle. What would be a small fortune in caps to an ordinary wastelander was nothing more than chump's change for Victor; energy weapons and power armor didn't come cheap, especially when they were Enclave quality, so when you compared the value of caps to the price of high quality gear, the amount of caps it would take for you to constitute a small fortune would probably shoot up quite a bit.

"I specialize in energy weapons, as a lot of Enclave soldiers do, but I can still kill some fucking ghouls with an ordinary firearm. Hell, I could probably wipe out the pack of ghouls with a combat knife, if I were so inclined; even with armor piercing bullets, they aren't likely to be able to do anything to stop me. Armor piercing ammo was made with normal combat armor in mind, not power armor. Chances are nobody is going to be able to kill an Enclave soldier, or a Brotherhood paladin for that matter, with regular guns, even with armor piercing ammo; explosives, or energy weapons, maybe, but power armor is the toughest armor you're ever going to find, and it'll take more than a bullet to pierce it. Killing some ghouls is going to be no problem. Now, unless you feel like dilly dallying, let's just go and kill the ghoul bastards already; time is money." Victor said, speaking less with a confident tone and more with a matter-of-fact tone. He had killed tons of ghouls, and wasn't afraid of some ghouls with armor piercing bullets.

[Tayner]

Victor Robinson

"Wow, a whopping twelve microfusion cells. That's a whole half a clip for my plasma rifle; fat lot of good that's going to do, if the locals here even have energy weapon ammo for sale. Those ghouls must really be raking in the dough, if they have enough caps to buy a whole twelve MF cells. Really, we'd be better off just selling their weapons and armor; anti-material rifles sell for several thousand caps a piece. That'd be enough caps to buy more than a thousand microfusion cells, and probably a couple more energy weapons to boot, if anybody in this backwards town even has energy weapons." Victor said, unenthusiastically, taking the sniper rifle from Smith and holstering it on his back next to his plasma rifle. What would be a small fortune in caps to an ordinary wastelander was nothing more than chump's change for Victor; energy weapons and power armor didn't come cheap, especially when they were Enclave quality, so when you compared the value of caps to the price of high quality gear, the amount of caps it would take for you to constitute a small fortune would probably shoot up quite a bit.

"I specialize in energy weapons, as a lot of Enclave soldiers do, but I can still kill some fucking ghouls with an ordinary firearm. Hell, I could probably wipe out the pack of ghouls with a combat knife, if I were so inclined; even with armor piercing bullets, they aren't likely to be able to do anything to stop me. Armor piercing ammo was made with normal combat armor in mind, not power armor. Chances are nobody is going to be able to kill an Enclave soldier, or a Brotherhood paladin for that matter, with regular guns, even with armor piercing ammo; explosives, or energy weapons, maybe, but power armor is the toughest armor you're ever going to find, and it'll take more than a bullet to pierce it. Killing some ghouls is going to be no problem. Now, unless you feel like dilly dallying, let's just go and kill the ghoul bastards already; time is money." Victor said, speaking less with a confident tone and more with a matter-of-fact tone. He had killed tons of ghouls, and wasn't afraid of some ghouls with armor piercing bullets.

"Well, no one ever told me how the fusion cells worked in the plasma rifles. But there are a few set backs, they're on a hill, and there's at least a dozen of them. All with combat armor, that's a little shinyer than mine. And I could fetch some microfusion cells for a few caps a pice in New Orleans. But that's a little ways away. Well let's get going. The plan is, I put this on,"and Gunny pulled out a plastic ghoul mask that looked rather realistic. "And kill a few raiders out af a larger gang. Then run towards the ghoul base. When there, we circle around, let the raiders and ghouls fight, and when they're fighting, we slip in and kill everyone. If you have any better ideas, speak up. Or I mean, I could just shoot at their base, and you circle around and flank them. 50/50, we'd make 4,000 caps easy. 8,000 caps at most." Gunny proposed. He hoped the man wouldent ask for more than a 50% cut. He then said " If you need anything just ask, and I'll do anythin I can to help, we'll set out tomarow. It's too late now, we'd make it at sunrise tomorow, I want to hit at night." He then waited for Victor's response.

[Conglomerate of Iron]

Providence Bridge

Most of the PI's continued on with their business, as if they hadn't heard her question. She was an outsider, and they didn't want to share any of their non-existent clues with an unknown party. So, most of them that had been formulating theories in their heads kept their eyes on the ground. Save for one of the younger lawmen, he walked over to Tamerlane and extended a gloved hand in greeting.

"Don't mind them, they've found a whole lot of nothin', same as every other lawman who's taken a crack at this case. Save, of course, teh Mayor's son. The name's Truman, pleasure to meet ya."

"Pleased to meet you cutie. Name's Sami Tamerlane of Nightshade." Tamerlane said as she took his hand. She smiled at him with a flirty disposition.

"Yeah, well the bastard must cover their tracks well. Do we know what weapon was used to kill him? Or whether any witnesses were around?"

[SaintB]

Cradaddy Jenkins here again with some news.

Seems like some other cats have gotten the idea in their heads of starting up their own radio station. Now Crawdaddy has his own to run so he hasn't been listening in but it seems that the station belongs to The Gatekeepers who are using it as some kind of attempt to recruit new members into their ranks or somethin' brothers and sisters.

Maybe they just trying to copy ol' Crawdaddy, what do you think baby? The DJ even calls himself JC which is just like CJ!

But ol' CJ he aint worried none about no JC no sirree cuz Crawdaddy Jenkins he be one of a kind man.

Here be Mr. Charles Mingus who was also one of a kind brothers and sisters...

[Fascist Russian Empire]

Victor Robinson

Victor burst out into laughter when Smith actually suggested wearing a ghoul mask to try and disguise himself; it was one of the stupidest plans he had heard in his entire life. "How about, instead, we just go in, guns blazing, and shoot everyone dead, and right now? What the fuck are they going to do about it? No, we're not going to waste time with a ridiculous ghoul disguise; we're doing this Enclave style, swooping in and slaughtering every last one of those punks before they even know what hit them. They aren't going to be able to do Jack shit about it. The most they could hope to do against me is dent my power armor, and I'm going to assume that you have enough experience to handle yourself in a gunfight. Either way, the ghouls all die; the only difference is that my way gets it done faster. It don't take much planning to kill some pathetic raiders, especially pathetic ghoul raiders." Victor said, still speaking with a matter-of-fact voice, not thinking but knowing that he would be able to handle just about anything a band of ghouls could throw at him.

"As for how to split the reward for getting the job done, something I get the distinct feeling you're thinking about, let's just say that the first person to kill a ghoul gets to keep their equipment. That seems fair enough to me; rewards ought to be earned, not shared via arbitrary percentages. For every ghoul I kill, I take their weapons and armor, and for every ghoul you kill, you take their weapons and armor. That sounds fair to me." Victor finished, assuming that Smith would want to know how Victor wanted to split the reward. Victor wasn't going to enforce arbitrary percentages; he was going to take what he fought to get, and going to let Smith take what he fought to get. It would be ridiculous, to Victor, to have either person just hand over their spoils of war just for the sake of equal distribution.

[Neo-Chicago]

Jacob, The Haven Broadcast

"Hellooooooo wasteland! JC here, and it appears our station has finally received some mainstream attention! One of my fellow Gatekeepers was listening to the Crawdaddy Jenkins station, yeah I know, make all of the 'They can't even get their own members to listen to their radio station!' jokes you want, and I just want you guys to know that Jacob Crownley is my actual name, I'm not copying you, CJ. This is a local station, we focus on news with the Gatekeepers and New Orleans. So, anyway, Inquisitor Joseph still hasn't shown up, and my fellow inquisitors are currently working on fixing up the S.S. Natchez. Until then, this one's a tribute to you, Louisiana!"

Jeremiah, SS. Natchez

The Haven Broadcast had been stretching the truth when it had said they had been 'fixing' the S.S. Natchez. It was more like they were just clearing the old steamboat out, considering all of the vampires and mutants that had taken refuge in it. Jeremiah had first entered the captain's area, where he turned on a radio cheerfully playing the song Louisiana, listening to the signal from his own radio station. That was when he remembered that his pip-boy, which had been given to him in the vault, could play radio signals. He booted it up, and tuned in. Just then, he was tackled to the ground, by two vampires, and he drew the shishkebab from his back, the flame cutting through them like hot butter. "That'll teach you to fear God, you abominations." he said, sickened by the creatures. Drawing the Lance of St. Louis, he blasted several more away, surprised to find a few microfusion cells on one of them. Jeremiah couldn't for the life of him understand how people ran out of the things, there had been thousands of them in the vaults. As if to demonstrate this, he put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it with a blast from the rifle.
"That all of them?" asked an inquisitor who had just entered the room.
"Yeah, I think so. At least for now." Jeremiah responded, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. On the wall to his left, a cheery vault boy smiled at him, buckling the straps of a life vest.
"Well, I guess 'steamboat' isn't the right word to call these things. They're more like 'nukeboats'. No coal furnace, just a nuclear reactor. Anyway, the thing's in tip-top shape aside from a few holes in the hull, which should be pretty easy to fix. I guess she even still has some fuel left in her." said the inquisitor, picking up a few boards that had fallen from the ceiling to repair the hull with. "Guess you lucked out, Jeremiah." the soldier told him. Jeremiah had made it an order that none of his men address him by a title; it reminded him all too much of his father, the last overseer of 62. He went outside the boat, grabbing a spare hammer, repairing a few holes in the boat as the had pulled it to shore using ropes...

[SaintB]

The Front, Northern Louisiana, West of Vicksburg

Urban sighed and thanked whatever entity there was that he had gotten out of the ruins of Vicksburg unscathed. No one could cross over to the old pre war state of the Missisipi. A tribal war of epic proportions had erupted during his passage through the ruined city. It was a battle royal between at least a dozen tribes, ghouls, riverlurks and a small group of super muntants. Though now he and Beatrice, his pack Brahmin, had to deal with travelling through what he though was Lousiana. He had heard stories from his childhood that there were mutated crocs that were 20 feet in lenght and tribals who did not look any bit like humans.

A while later...
He had been walking for a while and had made the decision to keep his occupation hidden as much as he could. Considering that there maybe bounty hunters and assasins after him. He suddenly became alert as he heard two men laughing. He loaded his shotgun and started sneaking slowly. He stood up and pointed his gun at the two men from on top of the rubble of a old house. He shouted, "PUT YOUR HANDS UP AND DON'T DONT EVEN REACH FOR ANYTHING. I'LL BLAST YOU IF YOU MOVE!"

Rocky

Someone had to be dicking around with him from on high today. Was this guy for real, pointing a shotgun at two people as they laughed together? Not Kosher!
Rocky just shook his head at the man putting on that he felt more confident than he really did staring down the barrel of a gun, "Oh come on! Do you think that we two would be out here all alone in a place as wild and untamed as this and be confident enough to laugh it up like we were standing in the middle of a bar? We have other guys right nearby and if you pull that trigger they'll know just where to find you! You might get one or both of us but the rest of us will get you; probably before you make it 100 meters since you have to lug that fat Brahmin with you wherever you go. So point that thing at the dirt and let's hold ourselves a civil conversation shall we?"

[Ontorisa]

The Front, Northern Louisiana, West of Vicksburg

Urban sighed and thanked whatever entity there was that he had gotten out of the ruins of Vicksburg unscathed. No one could cross over to the old pre war state of the Missisipi. A tribal war of epic proportions had erupted during his passage through the ruined city. It was a battle royal between at least a dozen tribes, ghouls, riverlurks and a small group of super muntants. Though now he and Beatrice, his pack Brahmin, had to deal with travelling through what he though was Lousiana. He had heard stories from his childhood that there were mutated crocs that were 20 feet in lenght and tribals who did not look any bit like humans.

A while later...
He had been walking for a while and had made the decision to keep his occupation hidden as much as he could. Considering that there maybe bounty hunters and assasins after him. He suddenly became alert as he heard two men laughing. He loaded his shotgun and started sneaking slowly. He stood up and pointed his gun at the two men from on top of the rubble of a old house. He shouted, "PUT YOUR HANDS UP AND DON'T DONT EVEN REACH FOR ANYTHING. I'LL BLAST YOU IF YOU MOVE!"

Rocky

Someone had to be dicking around with him from on high today. Was this guy for real, pointing a shotgun at two people as they laughed together? Not Kosher!
Rocky just shook his head at the man putting on that he felt more confident than he really did staring down the barrel of a gun, "Oh come on! Do you think that we two would be out here all alone in a place as wild and untamed as this and be confident enough to laugh it up like we were standing in the middle of a bar? We have other guys right nearby and if you pull that trigger they'll know just where to find you! You might get one or both of us but the rest of us will get you; probably before you make it 100 meters since you have to lug that fat Brahmin with you wherever you go. So point that thing at the dirt and let's hold ourselves a civil conversation shall we?"

"The Front", Northern Louisiana

Monet was ahead when he heard the scream then Rocky talking. He could only think Ah shit, not again as he turned around and slung his rifle off of his shoulder and pointed it at the man. He was farther away from Rocky and knew that the shotgun was effectively useless against his rifle due to the distance of approximately 60 metres away from each other. Snapping the bolt into place, Monet aimed at the centre of mass at the man. If the man went hostile, he could expect a .308 in his chest.

Listening to Rocky talking, Monet smiled to himself as he tore off the sunglasses and resumed his aiming at the man. He was a good speaker, Monet could give him that, but he knew that this man that they were having this stand-off with wouldn't buy it probably. This was the middle of the upper part of the Front, there was nothing for miles except for the occasional oasis of freshwater and trees.

Sighing, Monet kept his composure, even though the sun kept beating his back with the heat and the sweat began to trickle down the back of his neck.

[Palonitr and Howland]

The Front, Louisiana

Urban had been twitchy amd implusive. Then again, who wouldn't be after his escape from Florida and the death trap that was Vicksburg. He the man in what looked like to be Regulator's duster's said that they had other men nearby but as a experienced tracker, he had not seen any signs of human life. Though he was concerbed that his shotgun would not be effective as against the man with the hunting rifle. He had his pistol though but he would not be fast enough for it. He should just take it slow and talk it out.

"I call bullshit. This stretch of land all the way from Vickburg had been all rubble and desolation. But I'm worried about that rifle over there. Who are you boys. I know that one is a Regulator. And you with the rifle."

He lowers his gun and puts it down. He becons Beatrice to move forward.

"I apologize for my rude introduction. Vicksburg is not the most relaxing place in the wasteland The name's Urban, Urban Felix."

[Elerian]

Providence Bridge
Detective Truman

Truman gave Sami one of his million cap smiles, and took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his duster. He offered one to Sami before he lit his cigarette and put away the other cigarettes. He took a long drag and turned his head to blow out the smoke so he wouldn't blow it in Sami's face.

"It seems there was a struggle up on that there bridge" Truman said while pointing to the decrepit bridge above them. "But the doc said he died from the fall, but I guess there was some sort of poison in his system, probably some tribal was involved. But the sicko ripped the heart right outta the boy's chest. Damn shame, and there's bound to be a witness somewhere, but no one's stepped forward, likely out of fear of being the next target" Truman took another drag from his cigarette, and let the smoke out through his nose. "Cowards" he said as the last of the smoke was out in the open air.

[SaintB]

The Front, Louisiana

Urban had been twitchy amd implusive. Then again, who wouldn't be after his escape from Florida and the death trap that was Vicksburg. He the man in what looked like to be Regulator's duster's said that they had other men nearby but as a experienced tracker, he had not seen any signs of human life. Though he was concerbed that his shotgun would not be effective as against the man with the hunting rifle. He had his pistol though but he would not be fast enough for it. He should just take it slow and talk it out.

"I call bullshit. This stretch of land all the way from Vickburg had been all rubble and desolation. But I'm worried about that rifle over there. Who are you boys. I know that one is a Regulator. And you with the rifle."

He lowers his gun and puts it down. He becons Beatrice to move forward.

"I apologize for my rude introduction. Vicksburg is not the most relaxing place in the wasteland The name's Urban, Urban Felix."

"You may not have believed it stranger but you thought about it." Rocky didn't stand straight up yet (his sides hurt from laughing), "But you had to think about it, and it bought enough time for my colleague over there to get his weapon trained on you, and then you put the shotgun down. Nobody died or got hurt so I think my bullshit worked."

He gave the stranger a hopefully disarming smile and stood straight keeping his hands on his hips casually, "I'm known as Rocky, not sure if that's my real name. This man over here is my guide," he said motioning toward D, Désiré Monet could tell the man his name if he wanted too.

Désiré had probably saved Rocky's life meaning they were both even now but it seemed like their's could be a good partnership.

[Palonitr and Howland]

The Front, Louisiana

"Well met then Rocky. I didn't know there was a Local Regulator chapter up and around here. Where are you folks heading to?"

Rocky's presence in Lousiana disturbed him. Having Regulators so far down south spelled trouble for his plans. It also meant that the Regulators had exoanded closer to Florida. More troubles for the old families. For now he decided that he would act as a start up Brahmin herder. From his latest information, Louisiana lacked a permaneant food supply source. He would start up a Brahmin Pasture and then use the profits from there to start up his Slave trade.

"Do you two have a map of Lousiana and extensive knowledge of the area?"

[Tayner]

Victor Robinson

Victor burst out into laughter when Smith actually suggested wearing a ghoul mask to try and disguise himself; it was one of the stupidest plans he had heard in his entire life. "How about, instead, we just go in, guns blazing, and shoot everyone dead, and right now? What the fuck are they going to do about it? No, we're not going to waste time with a ridiculous ghoul disguise; we're doing this Enclave style, swooping in and slaughtering every last one of those punks before they even know what hit them. They aren't going to be able to do Jack shit about it. The most they could hope to do against me is dent my power armor, and I'm going to assume that you have enough experience to handle yourself in a gunfight. Either way, the ghouls all die; the only difference is that my way gets it done faster. It don't take much planning to kill some pathetic raiders, especially pathetic ghoul raiders." Victor said, still speaking with a matter-of-fact voice, not thinking but knowing that he would be able to handle just about anything a band of ghouls could throw at him.

"As for how to split the reward for getting the job done, something I get the distinct feeling you're thinking about, let's just say that the first person to kill a ghoul gets to keep their equipment. That seems fair enough to me; rewards ought to be earned, not shared via arbitrary percentages. For every ghoul I kill, I take their weapons and armor, and for every ghoul you kill, you take their weapons and armor. That sounds fair to me." Victor finished, assuming that Smith would want to know how Victor wanted to split the reward. Victor wasn't going to enforce arbitrary percentages; he was going to take what he fought to get, and going to let Smith take what he fought to get. It would be ridiculous, to Victor, to have either person just hand over their spoils of war just for the sake of equal distribution.

"Easy for you to say man. With that power armor and training. Little o'l me wouldent get a cap if that's the plan. And I'd get shot with those AP rounds and die. The last plan was kinda a joke. I remember when I was a kid, I found a holotape or whatever they call it, and played it, it was a cop show or somethin, and man, it was funny as hell. There was a smart one, and a funny one. Good times man, good times. Anyway, yeah. If I get killed out there, don't loot me. Just like, rig my body to explode. Ruin some scavenger's day. Anyway, you plan is good as any. I'll just run behind you untill we get past the snipers." Smith said as he pulled out his assault carbine. "Like my new gun? Minus well take a seat too, were gonna be here a wile." Smith said to Victor. "Tell me some stories of the Enclave wile your here."

[Fascist Russian Empire]

Victor Robinson

"Oh, I can tell you all about the Enclave and its history. I was born and raised in the Enclave, so it would be kinda embarrassing if I couldn't. Of course, it's a long story, so get comfortable while I tell it." Victor said in response to Smith asking him to tell him stories about the Enclave, taking a moment to sit down next to Smith. Teaching about the Enclave was as good a way to waste time as any, Victor figured; it didn't really matter if any of the locals knew about the Enclave, but then again, nothing in Louisiana mattered other than the vault. He wasn't there to waste his time dealing with the locals, he was there to carry out his orders and secure the contents of the Vault in the name of the Enclave. Since he wasn't able to do that at the moment, wasting his time here would have to suffice.

"The Enclave was founded a little while before the bombs dropped and Earth faced nuclear oblivion, founded by members of the pre-war American government and military. They knew that nuclear war was inevitable, and their mission was to make sure that the most important people in America survived. You can thank us for the Vault projects; well, us and our corporate friends, the Vault-Tec corporation. The Enclave had several corporations backing us and helping us out with our goals, such as Vault-Tec and Poseidon Energy. Anyway, when the whole nuclear war thing was imminent, the Enclave's members scattered across America, taking shelter in secret and heavily fortified locations, with the main group setting up a headquarters on the Poseidon Energy oil rig out in the Pacific. For a long time, after the bombs dropped, the Enclave sat quietly in their oil rig, our scientists working on giving us a big technological edge over anybody else in the Wasteland; the fruits of their labor you might be able to see in our advanced gear.

"After a while, when radiation levels started to lower, the Enclave decided that it was time to start rebuilding America. Since the power armor our scientists had developed helped filter out radiation, radiation was much less of a threat to us than an ordinary wastelander. Using our vertibirds, which, if you don't already know, are flying machines, we sent scouting parties all across California, which was the closest place to our oil rig and the most logical place to begin our work. By accident, we managed to stumble across the Mariposa Military Base, which is where the Forced Evolutionary Virus had been researched before the war. The FEV was directly responsible for creating super mutants, a result of Army scientists pressing their luck trying to create super humans who would be able to fight the Chinese; bunch of bastards, but that's a story for another occasion. The Enclave went ahead and excavated the base, using some of the locals for our workforce. Sure enough, Mariposa still had a few vats of the FEV left, which the Enclave collected and sent back to the oil rig for studying.

"Unfortunately, though, the workers we had sent down to excavate the base ended up being exposed to the FEV, and they started mutating into a second batch of super mutants. After a less than successful fight against them, the Enclave soldiers there just decided to blow the place to high hell and trap the damn mutant bastards in the abandoned base for all eternity. However, in spite of that little blunder, we still got the FEV samples we needed back to the oil rig, and our scientists discovered that, by using the FEV, we could make an incredibly potent and highly lethal toxin that would only kill mutants. This meant we would be able to cleanse the wasteland of mutants in huge numbers, and purge America of one of its biggest threats. Of course, though, we needed test subjects in order to perfect the toxin, needing both a group of mutated humans and a group of pure humans. This was simple enough to do, the Enclave just rounded up some tribals at Arroyo to get the mutated test subjects, and for the pure test subjects, they went to Vault Thirteen and got the subjects they needed from there.

"Making the finishing touches on the toxin didn't take long, and soon, the Enclave was in a position to deploy the toxin on the mainland and wipe out the mutant bastards once and for all, leaving only pure, un-mutated humans left to restore America's pre-war glory. However...our efforts were stopped, unfortunately, when some bastard saboteur come and blew up our oil rig. Years worth of work, destroyed, blown to smithereens by some filthy, ignorant saboteur who didn't comprehend just how important the Enclave's work was. It was nothing short of a tragedy. Of course, the Enclave survived the destruction of our oil rig, but our leader, President Richardson, died in the explosion, and with our leadership devastated, the Enclave was left in a very weakened position. The opportunistic bastards they are, the New California Republic and the Brotherhood of Steel took the opportunity to wage a war against the Enclave to drive us out of California. While we, of course, took a whole fuck ton of the bastards down with us, we, unfortunately, weren't able to hold them off for long.

"The Enclave was defeated, and forced out of California, the biggest defeat being at Navarro, which was an old oil refinery which we used to refuel our vertibirds; I was actually born at Navarro, not long before the NCR bastards, the vultures they are, came and drove us out. However, the NCR and the Brotherhood didn't stop at just taking our territory, they waged an entire war of extermination against us, hunting down Enclave veterans and trying to kill off what remained of the Enclave. They didn't do a very good job; quite a few of us managed to escape to the east coast, where we have been slowly regaining our strength, preparing to re-establish ourselves as the dominant faction in the wasteland. There's quite a few of us in the Capital Wasteland, although there's not very many Enclave members in California anymore. Our story up until this point ends there; with a little luck, we will rise from the ashes like a phoenix, and do what we should have been able to do decades ago, finish off the filthy mutants and restore pre-war America in all its glory, with only the pure, unmutated humanity, with no undesirables left."

Victor explained to Smith, retelling the story of the Enclave, his hatred of the NCR and the Brotherhood of Steel being evident in his voice.

[Kazarogkai]

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

Over the town a cold air had settled on it and the night had been especially dark, noon had risen and yet it was still rather dark as if the sun was shaded a little. In front of a rather large building, in comparison to other buildings in the town, multiple poles had been erected and hanging from them were the individual bandit leaders and town political leaders. their bodies were bloated, their eyes bulged, their faces skin was black with decomposition, blood and gore ran down from them upon the ground below. They were a macabre display for the audience of a few hundred that stood before the new capitol building more or less, the audience was composed of mostly the heads of households and a handful of tagalongs in for the show. I stood upon the balcony of a 3rd story window, and gazed upon the crowd like the king I was surveying my flock while the audience listened to speakers who spoke of the new laws of the land of my proclamations and how it would be their duty to inform their families of these new developments. My army stood before the building in a line, a thin line that separated me from crowd. I would when the day was concluded allow my forces to celebrate and rest for they were a victorious army. I had already confirmed to them that they would be allowed to partake in the loot from the abandoned homes of the departed and the faint of hear who had run during the siege and supplement their modest incomes. Of course as their Leader I would be getting a part of the cut of any proceeds so there was that too, but never the less. In the early mourning we had done are final assault upon the remainder of the enemy strongholds and had made are way in a hail of fire and smoke. Their screams and gunshots filled the air and would haunt the land forever more. I was in my new office when the final results had come to me and I had been given the news, we were victorious but the cost was heavy. I had lost 7 good men that mourning, their bodies had been wrapped in cloth and laid in wake to allow any to pay their respect before they were placed in their pyres and burned with their ashes given to the wind and the earth from whence they came. Much blood from my troops had been shed, in all 57 of are own were killed over the course of the siege an in exchange for this we had gained a bloody step forward towards are goals of conquest. Even more blood would be spilled over the course of time in this vampire like land and in the end we would be the ones who had to decide whether it had been worth it in the end. But for now we rejoice in are conquest, mourn are losses, and prepare for the next day to come as we continued on the path of the sword.

Siege of Arcadia
Belligerents
-Bundle of Knives
-Town of Arcadia
Commanders and Leaders
*Bundle of Knives
-Cornelius White
-Capt. Batholomew
-Capt. Clay
-Capt. Donaldson
*Arcadia
-Mayor Eunice smith(KIA)
-Sheriff Tyrone Stanley(KIA
-Chief Mega "Bones on Metal"(KIA)
Strength
*Bundle of Knives
-200 Militants(160 Fighters, 40 Support)
*Arcadia
-12 Town guardsmen
-75 Bandits
Casualties and losses
*Bundle of Knives
-57 KIA
*Arcadia
-Unknown, presumably high