RoD: Chapter II| Fallout RP | Alt-Timeline | IC

[Elerian]

Carbine, New Year

Carbine, Chicago

House Comstock’s personal guard was relegated to defending the family’s personal residence, family holdings, and the Royal family itself. Roughly two thousand men made up the elite guard, and while men were recruited from all over the Commonwealth, positions within the prestigious guard were highly sought after. Serving within the household guard was one of the few ways for individuals of low standing to rise up a rung or a few on the social ladder. A life of service often guaranteed a knighthood or perhaps a promotion to the exclusive rank of gentry. As such, it was expected that those within the guard perform at the highest level.

A sergeant approached White, took the diplomat’s credentials and studied them for a moment before dispatching a guard to retrieve a senior official to greet White. Distinguished guests such as White were offered the finest Chicago had to offer, including apartments on the upper floors of the Carbine building. While the Comstock family occupied the uppermost floors of the skyscraper, the guest apartments were still adequately high enough to provide a breathtaking view of the city, and Lake Michigan. Roughly thirty thousand souls called Chicago home, and while that was far less than in pre-war times, it was still impressive by Wasteland standards.

After a few minutes of waiting, Simon Comstock himself appeared to greet White and his entourage. With a wide smile, Simon approached White with an outstretched hand.

“Welcome to Chicago” Simon said politely.

Minutes later White was ushered into the Throne room. It had been made clear to White that King Cornelius was absent, but in his stead his capable son was holding court. White would note that the Throne room was lavishly decorated with exquisite tapestries and richly made rugs.

Solomon was notified of White’s appearance, and in turn White was given a brief crash course in the proceedings of the court. When it was time, White was urged to approach the Throne. The herald stepped forward again for perhaps the hundredth time and announced “Ser Jason White, Ambassador of the Plains Confederacy”. As was protocol, White was to kneel before approaching the Throne.

Violent Delights Have Violent Ends

It was a small, rural town, isolated from the rest of the world by the dense forestation as far as the eye could see. Numerous towns inhabited these lands by those who were beyond the glaring lights of civilization. They dotted the vast green landscape like faint stars in heaven, and like them, flickering lights from torches and bonfires signified their existence to the rest of the world, and to each other. The land was not as fertile as the hearts of nations beyond, and the cleared-out fields around settlements were not enough to sustain every soul during winter. As such, raiding became a way of life for these people, just like countless other tribal settlements nestled within the Rust Belt.

Yet, this time these tribals had raided the Commonwealth one too many times. And now it was time for cold hard revenge.

From a distance, King Cornelius watched carefully as his infantry and cavalry formed up quietly in the night. Their orders were simple, come to arms silently and bring no light sources to give their approach away. Hundreds of men lined up in their armor wielding sabers, rifles, and in some cases shotguns. The Commonwealth soldier's armor was simple and effective. A steel breastplate, greaves, and helmets that did not obscure vision but covered the ears. The Cavalry steadied their hulking destriers as well.

Cornelius waited patiently. A squad of Pathfinders had moved on past the town, completing the encirclement. He had faith in his men, and knew that the tribals had no knowledge of their arrival. It would be a slaughter, and a well-deserved one at that.

First to go were the cavalry who could get there the fastest. The infantry followed closely behind. Not a sound was made save for the thunder of hooves or feet. There was a short wooden palisade that surrounded the settlement, but it proved to make a minimal hindrance. Not long after their breach the alarm was raised, but it was no use. The Commonwealth Army was already in the town. Resistance from their warriors was easily put down. Men hacked and slashed at each other severing limbs. The crack of gunfire was met with the screams of the dead and dying.

“Havoc! Havoc!" A sergeant cried.

That was the war cry to plunder and pillage. Since this town had participated in raids on Commonwealth settlements, they were well beyond mercy at this point. Commonwealth soldiers entered homes to steal everything of value. Cornelius entered the city himself to see the devastation that the town had wrought upon itself. A townswoman had been stripped naked and bound to the back of a Brahmin cart. She was whipped while being dragged along as soldiers laughed at her misery. When they no longer found that amusing, a rifleman put a bullet through her skull. Her lifeless corpse continued to drag along the ground unnoticed. Another woman was being raped by three soldiers who laughed and grinned as they carried out the deed in the middle of the street. Cornelius watched a burly soldier hold the head of a child in a Brahmin’s water trough until the boy stopped kicking. Some soldiers were smart and tied up those they found to be sold as slaves later. But not before enjoying themselves with the woman that they found pretty. Another group broke into a bar and was wheeling out kegs to drink from. Only the army's drunkenness would end this madness. King Cornelius would let the army have its fun for this night. They deserved it and it kept them happy. But tomorrow, orders would be issued to bring back order. There would be no more rapes, plundering, pillaging or brutality against the populace. Tonight however, the town would have to endure the sack.

Hell is Empty and All the Devils are Here

[HOLOTAPE BEGINS]

[UNIDENTIFIED MALE VOICE]: "And I tell you, brothers and sisters, the time of ascendance is before us! We stand, together, at the precipice of the kingdom of heaven!"

[CHEERING]

[UNIDENTIFIED MALE VOICE]: "Oh, lord, oh, my life could never contain a fraction of the love you give. You move the earth and the clouds, the heavens and the beyond. You are everything and we are nothing before you!"

[IN UNISON]: "Amen!"

[UNIDENTIFIED MALE VOICE]: "Amen! Amen! We are gathered here today to praise the lord and the gifts he has bestowed upon us in these dark times. He has delivered us unto his kingdom! I have seen the future my friends, with eyes that were not mine and through the smiles of the ascended, I have seen it! The King has risen, and we must prepare for his coming!"

[INQUISITOR MARTIN]: "P-Please, please, just let me-"

[UNIDENTIFIED MALE VOICE]: "It is our duty alone to cleanse those who would blaspheme against the lord! We must provide them the same deliverance that was provided unto us! Entrance unto heaven is not free, my brothers and sisters! It must be paid for with a blood sacrifice!"

[UNIDENTIFIED MALE VOICE #2]: "Kill the Sinner!"

[UNIDENTIFIED FEMALE VOICE]: "He's unclean!"

[UNIDENTIFIED MALE VOICE]: "Now, friends. It is with this tribute that the debt is paid."

[INQUISITOR MARTIN]: "Jus-Just let me go. I won't-"

[UNIDENTIFIED MALE VOICE]: "It is with his blood, that he may be reborn!"

[INQUISITOR MARTIN]: "Wait, no, don't touch me! Stop! Wait!"

[UNIDENTIFIED MALE VOICE]: "It is with this flesh, that he may become like the King!"

[INQUISITOR MARTIN BEGINS SCREAMING]

[STATIC]

[TAPE ENDS]

[New Minahasa]

The Institute

Cannon reached out and accepted his offer for a handshake."Thank you, Mr. Director. I'm very glad to have the honour to be present here today, face-to-face with the leader of the Institute himself. I would surely appreciate having the privilege for a tour around more parts of this facility."

Director Hampton nodded, motioning towards one of the chairs on the balcony. "Take a seat." After Cannon did, Hampton also sat and looked out at the Institute as he spoke. "Our campaign on the surface goes well, but we need help if we're going to destroy Boston for good."

Cannon nodded at Avery's statement. "Of course. The Concord's help is always available to its allies. We make sure we treat out friends good, and our allies better."

The Director seemed to be pleased by Cannon's statement. A smirk slowly formed on his face as he spoke. "That is good news. Now, let's switch to the next topic. Do know, Mr. President, that I invited you here not to just ask for you and your nation's assistance. I invited you here to make an agreement for a mutual alliance. The Institute, with its' advanced technology, is willing to share some of its' technology and knowledge to the Concord."

Cannon was intrigued by the Director's statement. His attention now was fully directed to the conversation, as he sought to hear this "agreement" and what the Institute got for him. "The Concord could use the Institute's technology and knowledge, and I assure you, to honour this agreement, that I would try my best to apply such technology for the best. We would be very thankful to the Institute for this, and will not forget it anytime soon," he spoke.

Hampton nodded. "I'm sure that you would, Mr. President. You're already wide aware of the Institute's knowledge in teleportation, correct? The plan is for us to establish a network of jump stations within the Concord that could be used to transport people, items, cargo, animals, whatever that could fit inside the station to another. It's up to you where they would be built. Keep in mind that our resources are limited, and we could only build so much. Do you agree?," said Hampton.

Cannon rose from his seat, joyfulness expressed over his face as he extended his right arm over to Hampton, his palm wide open. "I sure do, Mr. Director. It was a pleasure doing business with you. I will make sure the Concord does its best to help the Institute against its' many enemies, and in this case, Boston," spoke Cannon.

Both men shook hands with each other, exchanging smiles. President Cannon would soon leave Hampton's office, and was teleported back to McConnel AFB, the surface of Vault 122, as he made his way inside.

---

Sierra Army Depot

The Sierra Army Depot was heavily defended, before and after the war. The Concord lost a lot of men trying to breach the facility's defences a century ago, but ultimately conquered the place. Automatic turrets armed with miniguns were erected around the perimeter, programmed to kill intruders on sight. Mines were planted in strategic locations above ground to deter looters who might somehow bypass or overcome the turret-based defences. These turrets were destroyed by the Concord during their assault, but was repaired once they've taken control of the place. Walls and barricades were also erected around the place with even more automatic turrets and one howitzer guarding the place. The place is powered by nuclear generators located underneath the facility.

Deep within the underground facility of Sierra Army Depot, research and experiments were frequently conducted. Inside the Robotics Division engineers worked on creating and developing new robots, as well as conventional and unconvetional weapons for the Concord to use. Skynet, a pre-war robot which was the brain of the whole facility, aided the engineers and researchers like how it was purposed. The various chemicals in the Bio Storage and Research Division provided the Concord scientists with the needed resources to work on their experiments, the most prominent one being the Zyklon, a very toxic gas that was under development by the Concord. The Zyklon was intended to work like the Cloud, but with less lethality for them to be easily contained and transported without destroying or corroding the container, although still dangerous enough for it to chew through any filters.

Beside that, the data and information of Vault 22's past experiments had found themselves within the archives of the Concord. Within the bio storage and research division in Sierra Army Depot, the scientists sought to continue what Vaault 22's scientists had started, and this time, without any mistakes done like the vault did. They event went as far as having the samples of the research inside a single isolated room to prevent it from spreading, in case it did. The vault scientists, with their previous experiments, had intended to create new strands of plants that could grow and reproduce under artificial light in the underground confines of Vault 22. The Concord saw it was best for them to continue the research. Soon, they would need no more reliance on other nations and the outside world for food.

[NewLakotah]

Carbine, Chicago
House Comstock

Jason White looked over the impressive city, straight over to Lake Michigan from his view from the tower. Views like this were hard to come by anywhere in the Wasteland, but particularly out in the plains. Not too many tall buildings in general and very few metropolises like Chicago. The city was large and buzzing. Thousands of people lived in the city, an impressive feat in this time. This was the sort of thing that the Plains Nations needed for support. A strong impressive ally in their own right.

Simon Comstock himself had come down to his room to great him. He shook his hand and welcomed him to Chicago.

“Thank you, sir. It is an honour to be here, I assure you. This, this is a wonderful city, your grace.”

It was time now. He was ushered from room to room. Waiting area to waiting area, and now, finally, into the throne room. He could feel himself getting somewhat nervous. The anticipation of the event getting to him. He was sure this is why they did it this way. To make their visitors feel the grandeur and importance of this occasion. He had been informed that the King himself was unavailable, but that the Crown Prince was who he would have the honour of meeting.

After again waiting at the end of the hall, the herald stepped forward and announced him to the King. With that, and some prodding from the Royal Guard, White stepped forward. He moved slowly, His head low until he reached a point, somewhat halfway to the throne itself. He drops down to one knee. Keeping his head low.

“Your Majesty. It is an honour to come before you. I am Ambassador White of the Plains Nations Confederacy. My Chief, Ska Chetáŋ, Whitehawk, sends his greetings to you, most Honoured.” He stops. Was that appropriate? He had not met a king before and the proper actions that he was required to take was yet unknown. As long as he didn’t offend them and lose this opportunity, then he would be ok.

---

Oglala, Plains Nations Confederacy
Akíčhita Okȟólakičhiye thípi (Warrior Society Center)

Annabelle stands over a map of the state of South Dakota, pouring over every detail. Jesse sits across from her, hardly glancing at the map as he puffs away at another cigarette. The intensity of her stare at the map causes Jesse to smile softly. Annabelle glares up at him.

“What are you smiling at? If you would actually be helpful here, I could get this done. The chief is countin’ on me now.” She snaps sharply. This only causes more mirth for Jesse. He removes the cigarette from his mouth, exhaling as he speaks.

“Oh, so now you care about the Chief?” He asks smugly. She rolls his eyes at him.

“Please, this is important. I want the task force outta here in tomorrow. Max.” She shifts her look, to one of pleading rather than anger, hoping the change will get him moving. Jesse continues to simply lean back.

“I’m sure it is. Just, how exactly is this helping?” he responds.

“The route. The terrain. Everything, it has to be known. How can you be doubting this, some help you have been here, really.” She says with a bit of scoff. Jesse leans up.

“I can tell you two things right now. This map means nothing, the route. You already know. The terrain you already know. You are simply delaying, unsure of what to do next. Am I right?” He asks pointedly. She looks down, slightly embarrassed.

“Somethin’ along those lines, yeah.” She responds.

“What is your plan than, Captain?” He asks, leaning back again, taking in another puff of the cigarette.

“Our main threat is the iyóyasakA. Our horses and speed will not provide the same sorta advantage over them. They have no brain and no ability to reason or think logically, they will just come. In droves. The raider camp just off the base here. They are no threat. I think a night raid will destroy them in short order.” She says clearly and strongly. She looks up at Jesse. Jesse nods approvingly. He stands up now.

“I like the sound of that. I think I have an idea of the iyóyasakA. They are feral, yes? So, all you have to do is draw them out and eliminate. Take care of the raiders first. Establish a perimeter and then, make as much noise and send in a small party to draw them out with the horses. Then, it is simple. Stay in front of them and gun them down. Each and everyone. There will be some left overs. Inside, stuck or too dumb to exit from the building. Those will have to be dealt with personally. Teams clearing the building step by step. That is the danger zone. I would consider upping the armour that the warriors generally carry. For precautionary purposes.” Jesses paces as he talks, finishing the cigarette in the middle of his mini monologue. Annabelle watches and listens closely, nodding in agreement.

“That makes sense.” She responds.

“Yes, good. I am glad you agree. You need to pick your escort carefully. Pick those you trust in tight places. In hand to hand and close quarters combat, over the best horsemen and best shots. They will not help you in this situation.” Jesse continues. Annabelle again nods.

“I think I know the best fireteam leaders for this operation. Last scouting reports of the area had the non-affiliated bandit member and tribals at Ellsworth at around 25 to 30. The iyoyasakA numbers are unknown, but estimated at over 50 to 70 at least. That is a lot. Numbers never win wars, I know that lesson well, but in this case, it might win battles.” Annabelle says, her eyes drifting over the map. Her mind visualizing the terrain and area around the base. She had been there before. It had not occurred to her to launch an operation to reclaim it for the tribe. She knew that it could hold many weapons from the Old World, but they never had the opportunity. Raiders and Bandits were too big a threat. The Ghouls and bandits surrounding the Air Force Base were many in number. A formidable foe, the pair. Each would have to be eliminated carefully.

“I agree.” Jesse says, snapping Annabelle back to the conversation at hand. She looks up.

“Good, I will assemble the escort team. I want you with me, what do you think? Someone has to organize the post-op clean-up.” She asks with a smile. Jesse sighs and smiles back.

“Oh, I guess a good ride out on the plains will do me some good.” He stands up. Annabelle gives him a relieved smile and walks out the door. Outside in the main warrior hall, several people are training in unarmed combat training. Others are simply lounging around, listening to the radio. On the wall, several ornate weapons are hung up for display. Annabelle walks out, most the warriors stop what they are doing and look at her. They know she is leading an expedition, and they want to know if they are chosen apart of it.

Annabelle looks around at them. “Tomorrow at dawn we ride. The 3rd Rider Cohort will provide the main escort for the expedition. Ikíčhize, you will be my Lieutenant on the expedition.” Ikichize nods. “Good, Cohort will assemble outside tomorrow at dawn. All should be prepared to ride. 3 Scout platoon will be our scouting party. They will ride out when they are equipped, before dawn. Understood?” The assembled group of the 3rd Riders nod and quickly begin moving around, gathering their gear for the ride tomorrow.

---

Badlands, Plains Nations

The young initiate was back again. This time he was in a small foxhole, his gun facing out scanning the area. He can hear them. Hear the horses, their hooves on the ground. Feeling their thunderous power. But it was too dark, too dark to make them out. The sounds seemed to come from all sides, then fade out.

He wasn’t alone. He shared the foxhole with young female initiate, also probably around 16-17 years old. She looked equally nervous under her combat helmet. Around him spread out was about 25 or so of the fellow initiates. All similarly dug in in foxholes, or small slit trenches. All of which they had dug this morning. Walking among them were two of the trainers, with several others sitting up high on one of the bluffs looking over them. From their vantage they could see the whole battle site.

“You seen 'em?” The young Initiate asks. The female initiate simply shakes her head.

“No.” She replies. He grimaces, well, things would not be turning out so well for them it seemed. Then, the hoofbeats stopped. Silence reigned over the entire valley. There was no sounds, not even from the animal life.

Then…

All hell breaks loose. The hoofbeats return, pounding in unison louder and louder as they get closer and closer. The war cries echo from the canyons all around them. Fear digs itself deep into the Initiates hearts. Now was not the time for panic though. They were warriors.

Through the darkness the first sign of the riders appear, riding hard and fast. Flashes from their guns lighting up the darkness. They cut around them the dust and darkness obscuring them as they ride in a large circle around the group.

The defenders also open fire. Trying to pick out targets as best as they could. The trainers, watching them closely and how they reacted. After, several moments of the riding. Several dismounted warriors push in from the flank and settle up high above. Laying down heavy fire on them. The young man and female initiate look over, then at each other.

“You first, I’ll cover.” She says to him. He nods. He bounds up, trying to keep his head low. Before ducking up and up a few rocks. Two other initiates are already in position there. The female initiate joins them a second later. In unison they all pop up, firing short bursts, regulated, accurate. A trainer moves up to them. He points at the young man and another initiate.

“You. And you. Dead. You,” At the female initiate. “your wounded. Leg shot.” The 3 “casualties drop down, sitting back. They continue to watch the chaos, as the defenders are cut down slowly, their defense, unorganized. Each man for himself. The attack from the horses is brutal, moving in closer and closer then dismounted riders attacking in and pushing into the foxholes of the former defenders.

After a few more minutes one of the trainers blows loudly on a whistle. The combat stops and the horse riders assemble in. The trainer motions for them to dismount and assemble together. They all do, gathering in a large semi-circle around the trainer. She glances at them, emotionless.

“Good, but not good enough. From either side. Defenders. You’re defences were unorganized. No order. No way to defeat the speed of the attack. Attackers. You were too slow. Too methodically. Orders must be given quicker and the dismounted must move in earlier and faster to the trenches. Riders, you rode slowly, making easy targets for the defenders. You got lucky today and won the battle. But at high cost. That will not happen again. For either side. Good?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The initiates reply. They all turn back, getting ready for a second round of battle training,. It was going to be a long night.

[Tysklandia]

The Pact
Arlington Armory - Heavy Amunitions factory

The secret preperations of the war had made increasing production of amunitions a difficult act. Slight expansion of the factory had been done and a shift-system put into place, to increase production in the months leading up to the war, but for the most part, the pact had to make due with the amunition stockpiles prepared in the years past. Now that the war was in full swing however, the Arlington heavy amunitions factory was ordered to increase its production as high as its facilities could manage. Workers from Maryland and delewarian farms where delegated to work in the Arlington light and heavy amunition factories for a slight increase in pay, which many agreed too, by a mix of nationalism, extra pay and being further away from the front. Food stores where high and their presence on the farms would only be missed by next harvesting season.

The Arlington fission power plant fueled most of the civilian and military industry in the city, the pre-war factories either retooled for their original purpose, often building small appliances or tools of any kind, or refurbished to produce the Arlington range of amunitions and weapons. In the early days of the Pact, Arlington was the prime supplier of arms and amunition to their fledging armed forces. Even though partially replaced by factories in South carolina, specifically in terms of small arms and artillery, it remained the primary supplier of amunition, both for small arms and artillery.

Other amunitions factories, specifically the facilities that supplied the Quantico artillery school and the Carolina Military Foundry, where expanded as much as possible, but both sites lacked the excess workforce in the immediate vicinity, especially with the national guard being summoned to service.

Over half of the amunition stockpiles had been shipped to maryland and stockpiles at a safe distance from the front, to allow the logistics divisions easy access to supply the artillery and the assaulting troops. When neccesary, trains from south carolina, georgetown and quantico would ship the remainder of their supply north, to supply the invasion.

The Pact
Washinton DC / Now officially renamed Georgetown

Georgetown, being on the outskirts of Washington DC, had been less effected by the great war and had been a prime choice for the pennsylvanian settlers who made their home their, decades past. In recent years, those same settlers have grown to dominate the population of virginia and the political and military strength of the Pact. Propaganda of the ruling forces, both civilian, economic and military has allways been carefulyl selected by the in-group. Ensuring a specific political and cultural ideology to form at the height of power in this nation. The crux of this ruling body had several beliefs, the majority of which was blaming pre-war america for the war, especially their beliefs, culture and way of life. By the use of history books and holotapes, these people formed a belief that the highly structurised cultural body of 1900's Europe was a primary force for stability and control. In this context, many american symbolism was often ignored or even removed from the territory of the pact. In favor of replacing it with counterparts that supplemented the beliefs of the pact.

This included the name of the pre-war capitol. Georgetown had allways been the core of the population in the pre-war metropolis and its name primarily used to describe the capitol of the pact, but now, with the slow reclemation of the capitol, the government has officially disregarded the washington DC name. Prefering to use its colonial namesake.

Together with this light and unimportant decleration, the reclemation of the ancient capitol was in full swing. Dozers, refitted or constructed in the Richmond Automotive yards, aided in the demonishing of many ruined homes and rubble in the city. Preperations where made to collapse the ruined skyscrapers that still stoof in the center of the city, allowing the Pact to completly rebuild the ancient city in the future.

The Pathfinder corps

Before and after the advent of the war, it had allways been paramount that good intelligence of the border regions, where paramount. This meant that the pact's Pathfinder corps, consisting of trackers, snipers, spies and communication specialists, where deployed beyond the pact's border in every direction. This meant that the pathfinders, both as open, admitting scouts and as undercover spies and intelligence officers, where operating in south-carolina,Georgia, OHIO, Tennesee and Kentucky. They operate both individually and by the creation of intelligence networks with individuals they can bribe or otherwise get on their side. The influence of the pact is kept as secret as possible.

A few teams would attempt to enter NYC, via the Ohio border, joining trade convoys or other settlers wishing to enter NYC territory for trade or settling.

The Pact
Infrastructure and economy

With the war in full swing, a lot of the potential workforce was drafted into the national guard, reducing the potional workforce of the miscelanious and civilian industry, including food, construction and other industries.
Even with this in mind, the government had begun several projects to repair and increase the nations industry, living standards and economy. This includes expanding the railway program and repairing and rebuilding major roads between the largest settlements to facilitate economic traffic through truck and railcar. added to this, the production of fusion core generators has been ongoing for years and those generations fuel settlements, small cities and refurbished factories througout the pact, especially in virginia, maryland, pennsylvania and the settler colonies in north carolina, and western virginia.

Untill the war ends and the civilian workforce once again increases in size, progress is projected to be minimal.

The Pact
Carolina Military foundry

The vast complex of the CMF near Elizabethville had been expanded multiple times in the past decade. seperate halls produces the guns, the breech mechanisms and them the parts and assembly for the 150mm artillery and the 75mm DSG and ISG guns. This made that the vast complex, well guarded and walled with checkpoints and a rather extensive perimetor, held a workforce of hundreds, if not thousands. A small amunitions plant allowed for enough rounds to test fire, before shipping the guns off to Quantico for military commisioning and attachments to an artillery crew.

A newly reclaimed factory hall, edging the CMF campuss had been reclaimed years before and added into the fortified campus. This seperate production hall was devoted to the development and production of armoured vehicles. Experiments with armoured vehicles, such as armoured trucks, troop carriers and tanks had been going on for years. But excess workforce, or more specifically, trained and experienced engineers, did hamstring development of several projects. The results of this project was the experimental model Pantserwagon I. A glorifide armoured frame around a tracked vehicle with a light howitzer in a turret assembly.

The reports of the front, was that all 3 experimental units had been knocked out and only one was salvegable. Production of more units where agreed upon, although high command did demand a new model, with vastly higher mobility, armor and firepower. The current model, although a proof of concept to the military and a training excersize for the engineers, was vastly unable to withstand AMR rifles and light AT weaponry.

The CMF - Armoured division had a lot of work to do.

TL;DR
Amunition is produced in Arlington, Quantico and south carolina(Elizabethville) - Heavy amunition for artillery and heavy guns are depleted from a stockpile, present in maryland and the factories themselves.
The fission power plant in Arlington supplies the pre-war factories in arlington, north-virginia and georgetown(DC) with a steady supply of electrinicity, allowing for the usage of powertools and refurbished pre-war factories.
The ruins of washington DC are slowly, but surely cleaned up, ruined roads and buildings either destroyed or repaired.
Pathfinder scouts spread out in Kentucky, OHIO, Tennesee and South-carolina, Georgia. An low-effort attempt is made to enter NYC territory by joining a trade convoy or settlers wishing to immigrate from OHIO territory.
Rebuilding roads, railroads and deploying electricity in settlements and towns across the pact, to power homes, factories and services.
Production of Panzerwagon I's continue. Development of a Panzerwagon II has started.

[The Traansval]

Pennsylvania Line
Federal Republic of New York

Private Ryder felt his truck slow to a stop, and then a huge explosion nearby as a shell exploded. Ryder ran over to a man standing on top of a stack of crates, recognizing him as Captain Jackson, of the 3rd Buffalo State Militias. The Militias had been called into service as Reserves, filling the places of the dead in the regular army. Ryder cursed the day he'd ever joined, they told him the Militia would probably never see any action, just a nice paycheck every month. Now look at him, on the front lines, and he didn't even have a Rifle yet!

Ryder was thrust forward by a sea of surging humans. Men of the other Buffalo State Militias, Volunteers, and National Reserves moving forward to be armed. The Regular Army Men already were armed and on the Front fighting. Ryder could hear Captain Jackson yelling through a boom mic. His words were not helpful.

Captain Jackson: THE ONE WITH THE RIFLE SHOOTS! ONE OUT OF TWO GETS A RIFLE! THE ONE WITHOUT FOLLOWS! WHEN THE ONE WITH THE RIFLE GETS KILLED, THE ONE WHO IS FOLLOWING, PICKS UP THE RIFLE, AND SHOOTS!



As Ryder mulled over Jacksons words, he found himself at the stack of crates, a Quaker Rifle was thrust into his hands and the man behind him, a Private Hal of the 44th Buffalo judging by his name tag and shoulder patch, was given the extra Magazines for it.

From there, Officers pushed them and the others forward, until they were all loaded up onto trucks to be shipped into the fighting.

The front was Crazy...

Weeks before, all the news about the war was Delaware. The Third Army had its pants caught down and were on the run back to Delaware City. So, New York Army Command, or NYAC, decided they needed to relieve pressure from that front. So, it was decided that Second Army would push up from the Kendi Line to push into Washington Pennsylvania.

The first point of this push was New Castle. The 5th and 8th Regiments had been given the task of taking the town, reinforced with State Militias to a grand total of 5,000 Troops pushing to take the major city. They were supported by 12 Parrott Guns and batteries of Light Mortars. In addition, the New York Armored Cars were deployed to attack the city, as well as Air Support by the Iroquois Helicopters.

Private Ryder and Private Hal Jumped out of the back of their Truck, in front of them was the Front Lines. Bullets were flying everywhere, with NYRA Troopers pushing up and fighting, every once in a while shells fly down and explode, and a battery of Parrot Guns would open fire sending a broadside of iron balls to the town.

Ryder felt a officer, Ensign Lawrence, grab his arm and throw him forwards, blowing his whistle and yelling for everyone to charge. A flag bearer held the Buffalo State Red Flag waved the flag and started running, and a horde of men followed.



Ryder fired off a shot from his Battle Rifle, in no particular direction, just firing hoping it will make those Washington boys keep their Fascist Heads down and not fire at him...
Behind him, he heard the rumble of a Engine as two Armored Cars came storming down the street at its top speed, its machine gun spray bullets in all directions. Above, 5 Iroquois Helicopters buzzed overhead in a fast sortie, firing rockets and machine gun fire down at the defenders of the city. Ryder turned back to ask Hal for a magazine, only to find Hal had been killed and his ammo looted from his body. Looking around desperatly, he spotted a Jeep with some ammo cans on the back. Running over, he gripped the edge of the vehicle and was about to ask the gunner for some ammo when the Gunners head exploded. The driver turned back, and looked at Ryder.

Driver: He's Dead! Holy fuck! You there, get on the MG, or we're all dead!

Ryder saluted and jumped up to the gunners seat, firmly placing the grips of the MG in his hands and the jeep started up again. Moving down the road, the jeep made quick circles around the street, firing at the Washington Fascists as they hid from the glorious New York bullets. Ryder kept firing, until he looked and saw a Washington Soldier with a rocket launcher in a window. Ryder yelled and pointed, and he and the driver dived out as the car was engulfed in flames.

The Driver, a Sergeant McGee, pulled out his Combat Pistol (M1911) and yelled and cursed the Fascists for killing his car. Ryder dragged McGee over to a low concrete wall, and picked up a magazine off a dead NYRA Trooper and put it into his Rifle. As Ryder and McGee lay there behind that concrete wall, they found that they didn't like war, not at all...

TL;DR

New York Third Army pushing south from the Kendi Line.

Major Focus of the first stages of the Push, is the assault of New Castle.

12 Parrott Rifles deployed at New Castle

5,000 Infantry at New Castle, many of low quality

80 Armored Cars Deployed

30 Iroquois Helicopters

[Zepplien]

Tzardom of Monterrey, United Protectorate of Vault Tec
"Most noble T-" One Boyar started, dressed in the same impractical furs as the southern communists, and as many would, failing to see what the Soviets saw in them even in the air conditioned palace inside the Kremlin. The monarch, glaring down at the Boyar as she demanded "The accent, do not forget our heritage!." reinforced a movement by her concubine/bodyguard, a deadly woman of Neo Jose dressed as a Cossack, and no less intimidating for her pregnant stomach. The Boyar, once Alexander Clark and now Aleksandr Clarkov, put on the accent he had been forced to learn to be part of the Tzar's court. "Most noble Tzar, Mother of the Motherland, Rightful Ruler of all Southern Kaliforniya, I come to you today with concerns from my people." the Tzar gave a nod, leaning on one of the armrests of her throne, her Vault jumpsuit outfitted with the most regal of furs to supplement the look of a Tzar she was going for. "Well my people, most noble majesty, ask that they be given a slight tax break madam, as the construction of our Kremlin is complete, and we hardly need the funds in the royal coffers." The Tzar leaned back in her throne, thumbing her chin as she looked to her Boyar who specialized in finance. The old woman from Vault 16 gave a nod as she adjusted her own almost floor length fur coat. She gave a "Boyar Clarkov is correct, we no longer need the additional tax revenue. And even if lowing the percentage, the potato crop appears good this year, so we may end with quite a surplus even with allowing the tax break." the Tzar gave a firm nod to them. "Bring me the documents to sign, and let my decree reign across all the loyal states that the obrok and barshchina shall be lowered as a celebration of the year's hard toil on the walls of our great Kremlin that forever guards our homes against the tide of red communism."

Tzar Emanuel watched her Cossaks, armed with Thermic lance and each with a laser RCW, riding along their motorcycles. The bright blazing green of their dress uniforms, their furs all showing the wealth of the Tzar. Some other cities states cried in terror at her cavalry, while the Vaults to the north asked her in confusion 'only ten Cossaks?' She paid no mind to those who decried her soldiers, for they were the finest in the entire UPVT with the beating heart of her Tzardom driving them to feats beyond mortal men. Well, of course many of them had been bested in non lethal arena fights with Vault 36's soldiers,but those daemons were clearly cheating every time they dared to offend God and best her troops. She waved off the dying raiders of Vault 36, for her Tzardom was powerful, swelling with new citizens every single day elated to embrace a life under her benevolent thumb. Of course most of them were slaves, and only seemed manically happy when she thumbed the buttons on her remote for their collars, but she was convinced it was natural joy, after all who could resist living under her? She was filled with fury at the first thing that came to mind, that illegitimate failed state in the south that claimed her birthright, but she would liberate her people from their tyranny, and reinstate the rule of old, just like in the stories of Vault 18.

Poseidon Energy Oil Rig
Thomas van der Hout walked past the many scientists of the oil rig, escorted by two Enclave soldiers in their full power armour, he had been dispatched by request of the Vault 53 to look into building new nuclear engines. While he had taken part of the research budget, and wasted a week lazying about, but he had booked a veribird flight back to the oil rig. An aging woman in her early hundreds was waiting for him in the archives of the Rig, containing the data from the days before the bombs dropped. The great powers of the mighty companies that once made America great, each of them giving what knowledge they could to these archives, their library without equal in the entire world. "Ah, Librarian of Congress, thank you for meeting with me. Have you had time to look for the plans I requested?" The old woman gave a nod "Of course, you know you look just like your father Thomas?" the old woman smiled at him, getting a cardboard tube out, and a holodisk. Thomas smiled bashfully as he took the two items "Thank you madam, I have been told that before." The Librarian of Congress tapped the blueprint tube "This is the best our archives had for blueprints of pre war car engines, not run by oil of course. I of course talked to President Richardson about this, and she has given permission for this technology to be shared with Vault 53 as you requested. We do hesitate to allow them to look into the actual technological process behind the engines, thus we offer them designs." Thomas bowed at the hip to the old woman "Truly President Richardson is the wisest among us." he smiled for only a moment before taking his leave "I should get my flight back to the mainland booked again forgive my lack of time. God bless the Enclave." "God bless America." the Librarian said with a nod.

Vault 53
"So I was looking at portable mobile radios, and I was thinking, why can't we do that on a large scale?" "Uh huh..." Kelly said to her mentor Travis, the older man working on a radio for one of their tanks, learning the Vacuum tube had simply been damaged and swapping it out for a new one. "So I drew up a draft of what I was thinking, we would see a different set of frequencies, and we could..." The elder engineer sighed as she rolled out her designs, glancing over them for a moment then stopping to look at them "Is what a phone?" he had to ask, looking at her design for the radio thing. "Yeah, I was thinking we could make towers to turn radio signals into landline phone calls..." her mentor looked more and more impressed as he looked over the plans she had drawn up for what she was planning. He clapped her on her back "Well I will be damned, this actually looks pretty damn feasible... We will go down to the Overseer, ask for permission to build a prototype, then after that we can work on what signals work, then we can set up a computer program to work it into a call, and after all that we can set up a small transmitter and test it in the real world. What do you say?" his young pupal nodded enthusiastically and rolled her her plans back up.

Georgetown, PACT
Ambassador Helga Baker was pacing in the temporary office of Heinrich Waudman, leader of the pact. her jumpsuit with the bright gold 16 on her back reminding her of her duties. She had a document from her office, transmitted over the PosidoNet to her office here upon news that D.C. had been renamed Georgetown. "I would like it to go under record that the Overseer Council formally objects to your renaming of Washington D.C. to Georgetown. It is the view of the UPVT that such an action is a betrayal of our national identity and of the symbolism of the old war, thus has formally condemned the renaming." it spoke volumes that it was not the extermination of unclean, but the renaming of a city that caused condemnation to come from the UPVT. It was this that to be the focus of her meeting with the leader of the Washington Pact, but hardly was it the most important. "We understand that agents from what was once known as the Boston Empire contacted your government, and would like to speak with you on supporting their struggle. The Guilds of Santo Rosa are ready to extend a loan of Caps to reclaim their nation. This shall be provided as our maps as provided from LA shows several Vaults nearby, and the Bostonians will hand them over for our assistance. This we are certain of with a 92% certainty according to our calculations."

Sacramento Parliament, Sacramento
The Vault Tec ambassador stood before the many city leaders, bowing to the older men and women who sat before him. "Ladies and gentlemen of Sacramento, we stand united once more against those who assail you on all sides. We stand alongside your nation, unlike those who come to rob from you what they can not take by right, instead offering medicine, technology, even the cars you see upon our streets." the members of parliament had been sufficiently talked to, those who would see reason given healthy investments in UPVT compnaies, whose stock would rise upon the annexation of their state. Those who were unreasonable had... accidents happen to them, either by snipers or by bribed members of the New Reno mafia families. The bill had been decided upon before the voting had even be brought up by the leader of one of their blocs. "We have been called today to vote upon a bill not listen to more idle promises from the underworlers." he was one of the ones who was not bribed, but they had not needed the votes of his bloc. The Vault Tec Ambassador gave a nod, stepping back with a deep bow to their members of parliament. Another old city father stood before parliament to introduce the first and only bill that was to be brought before them this day "The measure to allow annexation of Sacramento into the United Protectorate of Vault Tec with this parliament maintained and electing an Overseer from Vault 27. Would a member of the proponent party like to lead the debate?"

It was too much, the men and women in their starched collars, their purses metaphorically bulging with Vault Tec coin, each feeling that if they spoke up first it would be well known that they took the lucrative bribes from the Vault Tec officials who had visited them a myriad of times of the decade. On the other hand... Their wealth was legend, common people lived longer that Sacramento's eldest, their ships plowed the waves from California to Osaka for God's sake! But to simply accept it... The minutes ticked past on the great clock that had been imported from Vault Tec, Members of Parliament looked to each other, the crowd a mixture of bewildered and scared depending on whom you glanced at. Eventually, a middle aged woman who ran a caravan company stood up and raised her hand "I would like to bring this to a vote if no would like to speak?" There was no one who took up her offer. She stood to form the line at the box that would vote yes. Her opposition brought his hickory cane down on her head as she leaned over to fill out her card. There were cheers from some members, but most were aghast at such an action in their parliament. She didn't back down though, and insead grabbed the metal voting box, bashing the man over the head with it, receiving a whack from his cane into her jaw as she hit him with the box. "ORDER!" screamed the Prime Minister as he fired a gun through the skylight whose glass had long since fallen away. The two opposing memebers of parliment glared at each other as a quartet of Guards stepped forward. "Easy does it, we are gonna have a nice orderly vote. One at a time until this thing is over."

P.M.V. Valdez, Anchorage, Alaska
It was the old Fortress of General Jingwei that the UPVT set up on for their 'deep salvage' operations that had been decided by not the UPVT, but a joint operation between the Guilds of Santo Roso, Vault 53, and the Docks. The settlers universally shivered as they set to work hooking power cables from the ship's fusion generator into the ancient base that would breathe fresh life into it once more. Ancient codes from the Shi were accepted by the doors that the American codes could not get them through. An Engineer from 53 reset, reprogrammed, and reactivated a handful of the immobile defense turrets around the base that the Americans had installed. The base would be enough for the small salvage team to call home for the next few months. The P.M.V. Valdez moved to the middle of the port, waiting for requests for its artillery guns to level any threat to the settlers that they could call in with their radios and pip boys. Overall only 60 scavengers were assigned to this point on the shore, but they were ready for their jobs, and would fulfill their duty to insure the UPVT secured everything valuable here. For now though, for now there was time for rest.

Atlanta Georgia
Laura Autumn could hardly stand another minute of it, she was so sick of hearing the 'twack's of the rotors of her veribird, three refueling stops where those racist bastards had kept her pilots from taking off their helmets, but they were almost there. "Oh thank Christ." she heard from the pilot's voice module, seeing the city there at last. "Land outside, we will move in to secure." The Vertibirds came in quick but then slowed as they extended their landing gear and came to a full stop only seconds before they hit the dirt. "Showoff Lopez." she mutter as she smacked the side of her pilot's head. The ramp dropped and the group of her soldiers rushed out. Four Vault 27 soldiers from this bird, along with her, and her two troops. Two soldiers from Vault 9, three from 16, a shock troop from 36, and a sniper from 42 in the other bird alongside their 53er engineer. She gazed through her binoculars as they moved up, seeing the soldiers running to take up defensive positions. She held up her hand "Hold fire, hold fire!" she cried out, raising her hands in a gesture of peace, though the well armed group behind her begged to differ.

"We aren't raiders!" she said quickly, knowing that most would worry about such a thing first of all. She moved forward, taking a document from her pocket "I have an order, signed by the President of the United States of America, we have need of some of your data by direct executive order!" she kept moving forward, her hands raised, her power armoured helmet showing nothing. She had seen their CDC symbols, praying that this was not just a raider group that had taken the name. No... They would have opened fire by now. She smiled as she held out the paper "You may read the executive order if you need to, but I saw the President sign it herself. You still have some sense of American duty do you not? Based on your name I am betting you do, so how about we all lower our weapons eh?"

TLDR
-Plans for nuclear engine brought from oil rig to the mainland
-Vault 53 begins work on personal mobile phones
-UPVT formally objects to the renaming of D.C.
-Help is offered to Boston
-Sacramento is diplomatically annexed
-Anchorage is officially annexed
-Mission is dispatched to CDC

[Elerian]

Carbine, New Year

Carbine, Chicago

Solomon smiled warmly at Mister White and replied “Thank you, good ser. You may rise and approach the Throne.” Solomon knew little about the Plains Confederacy. He’d heard from gossip circles that they were little more than a gaggle of tribal savages, and yet here stood a groomed diplomat. Perhaps Solomon should have known better. In any case, he would have to make time to speak with the diplomat at a later time, away from the hundreds of eyes that were now upon them.

The courtiers whispered excitedly amongst themselves, discussing the implications of the Diplomat’s arrival. The Diplomat seemed in good spirits, and the Confederacy’s borders were much too far for this to be a declaration of war. A friendship then, perhaps? The word of this meeting would travel like wildfire. It could be safely assumed that even the King on his adventure would hear of this meeting in a day or two’s time. Already plots were certainly being hatched by the court factions to rope poor Mister White into a scheme somehow, for the lords and ladies were nothing if not crafty.

Solomon leaned forward slightly on the Throne, in anticipation of the diplomat’s approach.

Violent Delights Have Violent Ends, Part II

The flutter of wings was all around him as black wings ruffled and flapped amid the branches and amber eyes stared back through the gnarled tree limbs as they hopped from branch to branch. Caw! Caw! The murderous cry rang out and then the ruffle of wings filled the air as a thousand wings beat the grim grey sky and a sinister hand of crows leaped into the air. Up they soared amid the dismal sky and around the field of shallow graves and corpses, finally he paused a moment and looked down.

“There will be more of them, somewhere” Cornelius stated matter of factly as he gestured vaguely to the vast forests that hugged the decaying highway.

All around them lay the remains of a brutal skirmish that had occurred hours earlier. Tracks leading east marked the hasty retreat, and subsequent pursuit following the skirmish. Levi Crain noted that the tribals had lost far more men than the Guard in this fight, yet it still gave him pause. He half expected for them to find the remains of the Royal Guard Vanguard somewhere further down the old world highway, but a part of him prayed he was wrong.

“Aye, but I doubt they’ll bother us any” Levi replied.

Cornelius nodded slightly, deep in thought. Not a single Royal Guard had been killed the previous night, and while the men were groggy from their escapades, there was no grumbling. Over two hundred slaves had been taken, most of them women and children. All of them would be sent back to the Commonwealth to begin their new lives. Those that hadn’t been taken as slaves were crucified and now lined the walls of the gutted town. The buildings had been razed to their foundation several hours ago. The town would remain as a testament to the Commonwealth’s swift retribution. Cornelius wasn’t a man to be fucked with.

Now they marched east. Cornelius had gotten a taste of conquest, and he was yet to be sated.

We Were Never Heroes

A man hooded and dressed in plain clothes walked through the crowd casually. The streets of Chicago were crowded and hectic, being one of the largest in the Wasteland. People did the best to sell their wares whether that be food, trinkets, weapons or their own bodies. Criers at the different city centers called out the latest news. Wolfgang Sommer was a long way from the better parts of the city. There was the government block where the old City Hall had been converted into the Commonwealth’s Treasury. Nearby was the Assembly building which could house every Lord in the realm, and then some, for a yearly Moot. Finally there was the massive Cathedral and its accompanying district. All of them impressive buildings of pre-war make. In the harbor lay numerous vessels at anchor awaiting their turn to dock and unload their goods before loading up again and departing. While others would stay for a while to give their crews shore leave. A number of military vessels were parked at the docks as well, waiting for refitting.

Wolfgang currently was in the slums making his way to a nearby Inquisitor outpost in the city, one of several. There was something here of interest to him. He had come from the Inquisitor headquarters. It looked like any other pre-war building, but it had no windows. Sometimes it seemed like nobody entered or exited. But that was because of the underground tunnels which Inquisitors used to come in and out. What happened inside was a mystery for all of the Wasteland.

In the outpost was a dungeon, within were a number of torturers going to work at different prisoners. They used fire, stretched their limbs, extracted teeth, flogged among many other torture methods. Among the prisoners were human and mutant alike. Of course, all of them had been convicted of one crime or another, such was the law.

"Who were you working with?!" Wolfgang heard a torturer shout.

He blocked out the screaming as he walked through the dungeons. He entered one room. Strapped to a table was a pale girl who looked no older than 17.

"Again!" A torturer shouted.

One of the attendants hefted a bucket, and let a stream of water pour over the girl’s rag covered face. She kicked and wailed fruitlessly. The girl was a former cultist who'd run away some months ago. Quickly the attendant pulled the rag from the girl’s face, leaving her gasping for air. Upon Wolfgang's entrance the torturers looked at him. His hood shrouded his face. He showed them a large steel coin with a crow intricately engraved upon it, the seal of the Inquisition. It gave the agents immunity as well as cooperation from local authorities when traversing the Commonwealth.

"I'm taking over this interrogation. Leave." Wolfgang simply stated. The men did as they were told.

He picked up a towel nearby and kindly wiped the water and tears away from the girl’s face. She was scared. Most likely young in spirit as she was young in form. The girl sobbed as Wolfgang did so.

"The torture is over. Your salvation depends upon your truthfulness. Your heathen brethren, we need a location. Will you finally tell us?” Wolfgang asked.

The girl sobbed even more, shaking her head as she did so.

"I will give you one last chance, where are they?" He asked.

"I can’t, please, just let me go" she pleaded.

Wolfgang nodded. The Inquisition had received vague reports about a cult to the North. Several agents had been sent to investigate the cultists, but none of the agents ever reported back. This girl was willing to die to protect their secret, which curiously meant she was more afraid of them than she was of him. Without another word he left the room to find the guards waiting outside.

"That will be all. Dispose of her." He ordered.

He would have to deal with this personally.

[Tysklandia]

Georgetown, PACT
Ambassador Helga Baker was pacing in the temporary office of Heinrich Waudman, leader of the pact. her jumpsuit with the bright gold 16 on her back reminding her of her duties. She had a document from her office, transmitted over the PosidoNet to her office here upon news that D.C. had been renamed Georgetown. "I would like it to go under record that the Overseer Council formally objects to your renaming of Washington D.C. to Georgetown. It is the view of the UPVT that such an action is a betrayal of our national identity and of the symbolism of the old war, thus has formally condemned the renaming." it spoke volumes that it was not the extermination of unclean, but the renaming of a city that caused condemnation to come from the UPVT. It was this that to be the focus of her meeting with the leader of the Washington Pact, but hardly was it the most important. "We understand that agents from what was once known as the Boston Empire contacted your government, and would like to speak with you on supporting their struggle. The Guilds of Santo Rosa are ready to extend a loan of Caps to reclaim their nation. This shall be provided as our maps as provided from LA shows several Vaults nearby, and the Bostonians will hand them over for our assistance. This we are certain of with a 92% certainty according to our calculations."

The pact
Georgetown military academy

Heinrich waudman had been seated in his predecessors temporary office dominated by prewar oak furniture. A globe sat in the corner, dusty, centuries old maps lined the walls and a vast flag, depicting the facist eagle over the old american colors, the flag of the pact, was displayed behind the desk. Maps of deleware, New York and Pennsylvania riddled the desk and a large table that dominated the large office, with drawings and figurines depicting armies and troops. As the Ambassador has requested an audiance, she had only been made to wait fifteen minutes. As she had been brought up to the office, led through the vast prewa georgetown university campus, now much larger then it was before, refurbished and turned into the primary military academy in the pact as its primary center of government. The halls where littered with young men in uniform, rushing from class to class and officials walking from office to office, discussing the vast amount of logistics and bureaucracy that came with an "empire" their size.

Eventually though, Helga Baker was led to his office and made to wait only a minute or two as a pack of military officers left the office, holding unmarked folders and documents, their contents obviously secret.
One of these officers wore a pip boy and glanced briefly at the the UPVT official as he walked passed, the stripes on his shoulder depicting him as a colonel. Ignoring the passing officers, her escort would usher her into the room. It was wel lit, even though the blinds had been half closed, comfortable lighting from the ceiling ensured a warm glow covered the room. Heinrich Waudman, nearing his fourties, stood in the center of the room, leaning against the large warplan covered table, puffing on a cigar as he looked at a array of weapons mounted against the wall. An Arlington 1 and 3 rifle where displayed high on the wall, a series of medals pinned to their stocks. A carolina 1 rifle was displayed below it, pristine and unmarked.

As the door would open and the ambassador entered, waudman would wave at her and motion for her to speak her concerns as he puffed on his cigar once more and turned to glance at the warplans in front of him.
In a rather akward manner, waudman would let Helga speak her concerns, not interupting her once, before replaying at the end of an akward silence.

"You may formally condemn our descision. That is your full right. But I have seen the reports of the vaults across our territory. The cruel and horrifying nature of its experiments. I suppose the pact objects to you even daring to honor the name of such an organisation, even after the tens of thousands of hopeful souls it starved, killed or maimed in the years after the war. Let us say we both object to names and leave it at that."

Heinrich would finaly look up, his eyes tired and somewhat bloodshot, a sign of days of a proper nights rest. He sat himself in a chair and leaned back, groaning as his body relaxed for a momeent, his cigar never too far from his mouth.

"I apologise for my manners. Your people have never requested such a meeting in such a short notice before, I was intrigued. But you can understand we are rather busy at the time, I hope that forgives my fatigue. Do you have any other concerns?"

[Tysklandia]

Vault 118,
Far Harbor

The Vault was bustling with activity as operatives that were either testing new expierments, such as testing and figuring out how to use the Quantum Armor, new anti-Institute weaponry or equipment when they're out on the field. The Exile Emperor himself was in the Overseer's office as he saw the workers and parts of his Glass Watch as they moved between equipment and robot servants who were in the Vault before Capone came during the Fall of Boston.

He went to go pour him a bottle of whiskey that was made in Salem. It tasted off but he just thought of the ground it was made from. He sat in the Overseer's chair and thought about the past years that led up to the Fall of Boston and the exile of the Imperial government. However, this means that he has the ability to call upon allies and unlikely friends.

He sent two messages on agents to both New York and Washington with letters that said the following;

To: Respective Nations

My name is Capone and the only leader of the Empire-in-exile. It may have come to your attention that Boston was captured by an old enemy that we thought was destroyed by the name of the Institute. Currently the Imperial forces are not entirely scattered but aren't unified. I'm looking for any and all help. I'm willing to exchange for whatever you want and pay for whatever debts that needed to be paid. At this stage, my faction is not in a advantage so any help will be glorious.

It wasn't the best letter, but it was the best that Capone could muster right now as the agents went out in secret to the nations that the Spymaster believed can help with winning the war.

After a much deliberation and confirmation of the agents authenticity, A meeting with Heinrich Waudman was prepared. The agent had been brought to his office in the military academy of georgetown. A large ornate room, with heavy oak furniture and pre war maps displayed on the walls. Rifles of all kinds where mounted to the walls, aswel as medals and other decorations. The room looked busy, but homely in a sense.

Heinrich himself, looking tired and aging beyond his years suffered from a few grey hairs and bloodshot eyes due to a lack of sleep and rest, a result of weeks of deliberations and war planning.
He sat in his leather chair, lounging behind a vast OAK desk, numerous documents arrayed before him, all requiring his attention.
As the representative was ushered in, Heinrich would wave him to a seat on the opposite side of the desk.

"I apologise for my fatigue. War does take a cut in my sleeping patterns. I heard from my ministers that you something rather... Troubling occured to the north east. A request for aid, military aid mind you, in a time of war is a difficult thing to ask. It would need to be worth our while, especially with our deployment to the Republic taken in mind. But first please, tell me more about this Institute that has ousted you from your territories."

[Tysklandia]

(Image)

---

Mothership Zeta

"Commence, the ignition." Rockwell said, as he stood atop one of the platforms overlooking the lower sections of the Cargo Hold with Giles Wolstencroft. The lower sections of the cargo hold originally was to hold cargo, from what Chase could gather from his takeover of Mothership Zeta over a century ago. After the failure of Andrew Endicott to procure Institute Synths, Chase began to adapt a new strategy to carry out his ultimate plan. In 2243, Chase would begin a search for the infamous Nuka-Cola factories, studying the assembly lines of how Nuka Cola was manufactured rather then how it was created. After a years worth of research, connecting various parts and gizmos together and with the advice of Giles Wolstencroft, Chase would order the construction of a small bottling production facility to be established in the cargo hold.

Despite the small facilities construction, there was still a massive problem. Chase didn't know how to produce bottle caps, and without the knowledge of how to produce such a feat, his plan would end in disaster. From 2244-2246, Chase would visits ruins of old Pre-War production facilities, bottling plants, and all other locations that may have held the knowledge on how to produce the bottle cap and come up empty. Driven by his determination to see his plan through, he would begin to attempt to create his own bottle caps aboard the Mothership, measuring angles between points, and ruthlessly carving out perfect shapes with all the appropriate bumps and even the logo design of Nuka-Cola to top it all off. It would take four years until Chase would perfect the procedure to produce bottle caps, onto which he would make the necessary additions to his bottling machine to only produce bottle caps. Today, was going to be the day he tested to see if his technique was worth all the effort.

Vin turned on the machine onto which the conveyor belt began to move along it's pre-set path, carrying slim sheets of metal. The metal would soon be pressed by another machine, creating multiple small quarter shaped slices of metal and safely depositing of the used metal in a nearby storage area. The freshly cut out metal quarters would then be placed into a pre-set mold created by Rockwell, where they would be modeled into the appropriate shape. The Nuka-Cola design, would then be stamped onto each bottle cap, depositing them into crates, which would make Rockwell smile. "It worked, sir!" Wolstencroft said, as he shifted his gaze to him. "Now, for the second part of my plan...I hope you are ready."

---

1st Person Narration - Unknown Narrator

"In the year 2251, something changed in The Washington Pact. Maybe it was the air, becoming less stale as the world sped farther and farther away from the ashes of nuclear war. Or maybe, I had gotten so used to the crappy conditions of the wasteland, that my senses didn't even wish to register what all was going on anymore. Regardless, something did indeed change. A strange man walked into town, no pistol, no dusty clothes from the dust and ash that was present on anyone who spent more then a day in the wasteland. He had on a smile, untouched by the horrors of what was around him and wore a glistening white suit, with zero concerns. He must've been some sheltered child, with his family owning mercenary bands that would handle the dirty work while he played dress up in the closets of his secluded mansion. Back then, I was sure that he would be dead within the next three hours, but how wrong I was.

The man located an old Pre-War building called a "Bank," and moved in to set up shop. Almost overnight, this mysterious stranger had collected a small army of what looked to be floating sentry bots of some sort. Over the next week, he would open up shop. Calling his new claimed building "Wasteland Savings and Loans." He claimed to be able to protect your hard-earned caps, in a state of the art vault and pay interest over time. Most were skeptical at the time, but quickly came to warm up to the mysterious strangers who within the first two months of his operation had repeatably opened 100 accounts, and that customers felt that in the first time in their life, they're well or illicit earned caps would be well protected and guarded, benefiting the average wastelander from raider, trader, doctor, etc. To this day, I will never understand how this "Bank," works. But I'm skeptical. If that man was some kind of angel from the heavens, coming to save the wastelands riches in some underground secret vault, he sure did have a lot of listeners willing to give him a chance then a sleazy bartender...like some people."

---

Summary:

• A new company, Wasteland Savings and Loans has appeared in the Capital Wasteland. Critics are skeptic, but hold no valid claims of wrongdoing by said company while customers report great appreciation. The question on many Pact politicians minds, is how good this "Bank," really is.

The pact
The Virginian Mark

With the sudden popularity of a wasteland bank, providing loans, savings and intrests, the high council was severly divided. Heinrich Waudman and his close confidents had a sheer distast for the concept of a privately owned bank handling a lot of their civilians money and economy. It was a dangerous thing. But it could be benifical just as wel to leave it operating.

In response the goverment double their work in a project they had been shelving for decades. The roll out of the "Virginian mark".
A paper currency, printed by the machinery recovered in the Federal Reserve facility in DC, would be distributed throughout the major cities in the pact. Trade and agreements with the United States enclave was succesful in giving the Pact a vast gold reserve, on which they commenced to base their new currency off of. In the following months, the basics of this new currency would be revealed and explained in cities and settlements across the Pact, in preperation for its distribution in 4 to 6 months time.

The pact
Wasteland Savings and Loans

Elisabeth warner, a strong, politically powerful woman in the pact and one of heinrich's closest confidants, had let her curiosity get the better of her and would launch an investigation of the new company that had stirred up so much ruckus over the past weeks and months. The bank, located in downtown georgetown, was abuzz with activity. construction work had been going on around it, buildings refurbished and rebuilt and the strees was alive with shopkeepers advertising their wares, workers hammering away at buildings and placing windows, travellers just shuffling through, children playing and women washing clothes. Elisabeth, in her military dress uniform walked through casually, with a 10 man strong personal guard, in differing amounts of armerment. Most gave her room, some waved, others even cheered as she responded the gestured by "thank you's" and a wave in return.

As she walked into the bank and up to its counter, only a pair of guards would join her, the others remaining outside, ready to intervene when neccesary. She looked near fourty, but well kept, healthy and sharp with a gaze that often made most people think twice about crossing her.

"I am Elisabeth Warner, of the pact council. We have heard much positive news about this establishment. I would like to speak about who is in charge, so we can know more of this organisation of yours."

[Ulls]

After a much deliberation and confirmation of the agents authenticity, A meeting with Heinrich Waudman was prepared. The agent had been brought to his office in the military academy of georgetown. A large ornate room, with heavy oak furniture and pre war maps displayed on the walls. Rifles of all kinds where mounted to the walls, aswel as medals and other decorations. The room looked busy, but homely in a sense.

Heinrich himself, looking tired and aging beyond his years suffered from a few grey hairs and bloodshot eyes due to a lack of sleep and rest, a result of weeks of deliberations and war planning.
He sat in his leather chair, lounging behind a vast OAK desk, numerous documents arrayed before him, all requiring his attention.
As the representative was ushered in, Heinrich would wave him to a seat on the opposite side of the desk.

"I apologise for my fatigue. War does take a cut in my sleeping patterns. I heard from my ministers that you something rather... Troubling occured to the north east. Please, elaborate."

The agent calmed down after running around trying to get someone for days.

" The Empire had been cast out of our capital by an old enemy. They call themselves the Institute, which are a secret technologically advanced cabal underneath Boston. In the past, we had an alliance with them and the Emperor lied to the public claiming that we took them down. Yet we've underestimated their peace ever since the pro-Imperial Director was killed in exchange for a new one, a Director Hampton. He has currently orchestrated the deep infiltration of our government with his sentient androids known as Synths. This include the assassination of the late Luther Hightower and we believe he has replaced our own generals and members of the Senate with them to ensure their rise will go as seemliness as possible.

However, the government itself is still alive, but in exile and we are trying to gather whatever support we can to liberate it from their hands. Now, how can I ensure the support of the Pact if that's possible?"

[Zepplien]

V.T.S. Eminent Domain, Approaching the Panama Canal
Yuri Fujioka sipped at his piping hot tea as his troops prepared the Salient Green for tonight's dinner, the amazing new technologies of Vault science allowing them to have fresh fruits and vegetables on their long travels. Admiral Fujioka was quite an oddity in the Vault Armed Forces, he was not related to an Overseer, he was no child of a Guild Barron, nor even a minor city leader's relative, he had gotten his post through determination and hard work. Unlike many officers he had the respect of his sailors, and that is why he had been put as the flag of the Eminent Domain, the UPVT's most powerful battleship. The former LNG carrier had been retrofitted with even more armor, her deck guns, and her Katusha launchers, all ready to sink anyone who dare approach the might of the Vault Tec flagship. The churning of the super computer through the data from the ship's sensors and the GPS devices they had running, all while monitoring all known channels to see if it needed to shut down the Poseidon Energy transceiver and activate their Chinese one. Pre war defenses were tricky like that, but it was nothing the engineers of Neo Fransisco and Navarro couldn't overcome with their reverse engineering of the gifts left to the entire UPVT by the world before. He signed contently as the ship plowed the waves toward the ancient canal that split the North America from South America. He only waited for the Vault 53 engineers to report on the state of the canal through their telescopes on the prow, and if need be they had row boats to launch to go get a closer look at the locks. While they focused on the work on the locks, a pair of 42ers glared though long range sniper scopes to survey what defenses lay around, and to look for any sign of civilization. For now though, for his crew, all there was to do was to wait.

The wait wasn't long until an alarm went off on his deck, one of his bridge officer indicating out of the window with a shaky finger with his binoculars. The Admiral barked "Report son!" slamming his fist down on the console as the girl's mouth refused to work. He stood to his full height, grabbing the binoculars from her hand and put them to her eyes. "Artillery guns, big ones! Reverse engines full speed." the helmsman pulled back on the throttle, all the way to the rear. The radio operator stood up "Sir, if you would listen please." he walked to the younger man, giving a brief nod before putting on the large bulky headset.

"Attention unknown ship this is Panama Canal Central Intelligence Computer. I was installed by the United States in 2070 to protect the canal from all threats, both foreign and domestic, in 2079 I took up maintenance duties for the canal and have updated my programing." there was a pause before the computer voice sounded elated "You are here to use the canal! You make me so happy, I have kept it ready for anyone to use!" the AI sounded almost childlike, as noted by the UPVT Admiral. "Anyone can use the canal whenever they want now! They can see all the good work I have done on it, and they can see my robots that protect it." the Admiral stood, giving his helmsman a motion to move forward toward the heart of the beast. AA guns scanned the sky, sentry bots patrolled, and massive shore batteries dissuaded even a showing of force. He just gulped down fear as the AI's train tugs brought his ship through the lock system. Nothing went wrong, no shots were fired, the ship wasn't even scuffed, there was merely a friendly message from the AI as they left "Come back anytime! Bring your friends, I like meeting new people!"

Georgetown, PACT
"Let us leave it at that..." Helga offered, far more diplomatic that what the 14ers, or god forbid, the 27ers would have been regarding the precious and neigh holy name of Vault tec. She could see the lack of sleep in the man's face, his eyes, it was to be expected but... Such exhaustion had been been felt by any of the UPVT leadership for decades. She was no warmonger, neither war any in the UPVT, but where there was war there was profit to be made of course. "We do have one further mater beyond the desire to speak with the Boston Imperialists. We are sending our battleship the V.T.S. Eminent Domain to see if the Panama canal still works, if so we request the right to dock in your harbors as needed, as such to facilitate trade with the east coast nations. In exchange we offer to provide no war materiel to your strategic enemies, specifically the New Yorkers. " she smiled at the man as she leaned over his desk, placing both hands on it "We are the finest international shipping in the world, with our navy having access to your ports, the world is ours to control. As we speak our ships plow the waves from California to the Orient, with your help we shall plow the seas from Beijing to Leningrad. None shall stand in our way if we stand united!"

[NewLakotah]

Carbine, Chicago
House Comstock

Jason White rises and moved forward towards the throne. He cleared his throat.

“Your Majesty, thank you again for allowing me to speak with you. As I have stated, I am a representative of the Plains Nations Confederacy. I believe that it is in the best of our interests to look to the future of our respective states. To secure each of our own futures. And I believe that the best way for us to secure our future, is together. Bonded by friendship, partnership and an alliance.” White interlocks his fingers together to make his point. He continues, “Now, this is not much. But simply a token of our good faith and good will. First,” he pulls out a bundle and presents it forward, unveiling it out. It is a ceremonial blanket, ornately designed and handstitched. It is designed with several color patterns, all along the borders and in the middle a picture of a buffalo, secondly, within the bundle, he removes an ornately bejeweled tomahawk, and decorated with colorful fringe lace and gold patterned into the hilt of the tomahawk. “This is a ceremonial blanket, hand crafted at the hands of our people, an important part of our heritage and culture. Bestowed to those that are honoured by our people. And this is a personal gift from the Chief, a tomahawk, while an instrument of war and killing, also a symbol of our willingness to defend and support our allies through all problems. And lastly, in order to secure a lasting and strong relationship between our people, the Chief has one last proposal for your consideration, your Majesty. There are many bonds, strong bonds in the world. But many of these can be broken, those that cannot be broken are those of family. Family is vitally important and what matters most in the world. In this case, we believe that a marriage between you, your majesty the Crown Prince, and the High Princess Rebecca Summer Moon, daughter of the Chief. the TȟogktékA Wínyanyatapi, Her warrior name. Renowned for her beauty, her intelligence and her fierceness in combat. Her native name loosely translates to “Warrior Princess who has fought many battles”. Which describes her well. We believe that this is a perfect fit for both, and an important step for our friendship.”

Jason steps back, his speech over. He looked closely at the Crown Prince awaiting his response, he glances around the room. All the eyes dart between him and Prince Solomon. He keeps his head bowed, as a sign of respect to the Prince. He was still mostly unfamiliar with the protocols of dealing with a modern-day Royalty.

His knowledge of kings limited to reading books and histories and holotapes from decades old pre-war books that had been taken in to the vault. He had enjoyed reading those, reading all of the history books that he could find, really. Now, it seemed like an important piece to ensuring his success. One could only hope, at least.

---

The Badlands
3rd Rider Cohort
Captain Annabelle Smithson - WawíȟayA - Commanding

The 100 riders from the 3rd Cohort took off at dawn. Ahead of them, the scout riders were already a few miles down the road. Making sure that the path was secure all the way to the Air Force Base. The scouts had set out about 3 hours before they had, and they weren’t due to make any sort of contact for another hour, unless trouble was actually ahead on the roads.
The riders were more heavily armoured than they normally were. Particularly with large leather gauntlets and other hardened metal and leather armour. This was to deal with the Ghouls that were inhabiting the air force base. Close quarters combat was all but guaranteed, meaning attacks from the ghouls would be expected and wounded also expected. The more armor the less damage, at least that’s the idea.

At the head of the column, was Annabelle. WawihayA. In command. On her shoulder and painted on her chest plate were two crossed red tomahawks. One was stitched onto her leather shoulder and the other on to the metal chest plate. This was the Captaincy insignia. The symbol of leadership and command of a Cohort.

Her face was painted. A simple design, simply black paint around the eyes and streaking down across her face. A simple, yet intimidating design no less. Ikíčhize and Jesse rode on either side of her. Ikichize face was also painted. Red marks across his checks and forehead. Jesse’s was not. He instead had a circle stitched onto his shoulder. It was freshly done. The circle was a rainbow like circle, with Red yellow, black and white stitching, the colours of the Confederacy and the insignia of the Council of Elders.

Annabelle looks at them both sideways.

“100 warriors. That might not be good enough. Looking forward to getting to Rapid City and drawing out some of the militias.” She remarks. The two other men nod.
“Won’t be very well equipped.” quips Ikchize.

“Numbers matter for this operation. Even over skill and equipment. The iyóyasakA aren’t going to bring up any new tactics or advanced armour to the table. Simple numbers game, once we get that advantage we’ll be set.” Annabelle responds.

The troop continues to trundle along at a good solid pace. It wouldn’t be too long before they reached Rapid City.

---

Rapid City, Plains Nations Confederacy
Rapid City Area Chamber of Commerce

The construction of the renovation of the Chamber of Commerce had been underway for several years now, and it was finally set for its grand opening as the new Town center and city square. The city itself wasn’t in overall too bad of condition. Most of the nuclear strikes targeting the large cities, thankfully avoiding the main impact of those. Radiation and overall civil decay had left much of the city in disrepair over the past 100 years. However, slowly but surely, thanks to the newfound security of the Confederacy, the city was slowly growing more and more. It was one of the last foundations of civilization before heading into the Northern Frontiers of the Northern plains of the Confederacy and up to the border of North Dakota. North Dakota had yet to be claimed by the Confederacy but the moves were clear. It was soon to be theirs and the citizens saw the capture of the Air Force Base its first key step. Ellsworth had been unoccupied for the past 100 years, minus the ghoul presence and the rebel renegades that established a small outpost there, resting on the security that no attack would come as long as the Ghouls remained. They were wrong, word had reached Rapid City that the Chief was sending its best Cohort to link up with the local militia that could be assembled together, along with the Northern Post Escort, the 15th Escort Battalion, that was stationed there. These forces would launch the combined assault on the Base, taking what was rightfully theirs’ back.

Commander Lucas Benton was the man in charge of the Rapid City Defence Force. A white wastelander, he was himself a member of the warrior society, completing initiation and becoming a Rider of the Plains. However, after several years of the long hard work, he saw the opportunity to return home. An important mission, his first as a Commander in the Cohorts. His first promotion and first command.

It was a difficult task, but he had enjoyed thus far. Outside of a few raiding parties and ghouls, there was not much else up here that provided much of a threat, outside of the wildlife. However, by now, almost all the Wastelanders could handle them at least.

However, his mission was more than this. His task was manning the last great city of the Plains. Yes, Sturgis was there. Just to the North, manned with its own forces. However, this was the largest city, the gateway to the North. The North was the untamed, still. Yes, it belong to the Confederacy, of course. Trade and supplies and settlers and settled as far north as the border and into Montana.

However, if the Plains was renowned for its brutality and toughness, the North went even further. Tougher terrain. Tougher people, tougher raiders. Super mutants, known to them as the uŋkčéǧila – the mythical ancient monsters that once lived on the plains – roamed across the North Dakota plains, occasionally raiding southward. The sheer ruggedness, raw beauty and ruthless brutality grew the residents there tougher and stronger. Hell, Chief Whitehawk was a Crow. From the farthest reaches of the Confederacy. His toughness was well heralded from all corners of the Plains.

Now, Rapid City was not the north. It was not even close to being the North. While it was the gateway between the South and North, for traders caravans and military forces. Rapid City prided itself as the intellectual capital of the Nations. Many of the Vaulters had chosen to settle here. The Rapid City tribe made itself known as the scientific, historical and diplomatic center of the Plains. This was important. A vital piece to the Plains surge from a scattered tribal get up, to a respected economical, military and diplomatic power of the Northern Plains.

Rapid City had even began to rebuild and staffing the old South Dakota School of Mines and Technology. Expanding a bit from its just mining and engineering purposes for a total education background. As of yet, it has not been opened, as the curriculum and staffing issues continue to arise. However, progress is progress.

However, as good as all of this was, and no matter how much Benton enjoyed his academic exploits. That was not his issue. His issue was whipping into shape the first of its kind. The Town Guard. The militia. Stationed here were around 50 of the Riders. That was simply not enough. Most of the Riders were either deployed at Oglala or stationed along the Northern or Wyoming Borders.
This was simply not good enough, not in case of any large attack or dealing with Ghouls on a regular basis. His task was to lead the charge in a new tactic for the defense of the frontiers. The Town Guard would act as the militia force. Should any large scale attack take place, or any attack when the main military force is away, the Town Guards would be activated. Deploying to the front lines to hold as long as possible until aid arrived.

The eventual end goal of this was to formulate the Town Guards, acting as the Battalions apart of the overall Tribal Guards, that would be later organized and formed. They themselves forming the Regiments and Brigades of the Confederal Guard. This, of course, was in its infancy stage. Currently Rapid City was the first test, the lab rat to see if this was feasible. And soon they would get their response.

These forces were generally poorly equipped, with whatever weapons they had with them, ranging from pipe pistols to heavy rifles, and anything in between. However, they could be trained and organized so when the assault took place, they would know what to do. Training and come along slowly. Many simply unwilling to learn this new art of combat. Some doing their best, but just not getting it. The formations, the drills, the marching. All of it had a purpose, many did not see it. The roll calls, the drills, the target practice. It was coming together, albeit, rather slowly.
But now. Now the time had come. Time for the first taste of action for the Rapid City Town Guard.

Benton steps out of the Command Post what was formerly the National Weather Service Station. Still somewhat in use as that, but still spotty. Assembled outside were around 25 of the 1st Platoon, Ashland Heights Company.

The formation wasn’t perfect. But it would do. For now, more training would be necessary. But now, the truth had to be told.

“Good morning. I have been informed of an impending operation. An offensive operation, undertaken by the Warrior Society. This operation is to eliminate and take possession of the Air Force Base here. This is where you come in. As the closest community to Ellsworth, you have the best knowledge of the area and the terrain. Therefore, you as well as the main Rapid City Regiment, will be activated immediately. First and foremost you unit will act as the Forward Observers for the main patrol. The scouts will arrive soon, and you will assist them in anyway that they need. Secondly, when the time comes we will all deploy together to the front lines and clear out Ellsworth and take it for ours. It is an Old World military base, many of its supplies trapped inside for the past 100 years. More than likely, it holds many secrets that will be beneficial to our peoples here. The action will be quick. It is what we have been trainin’ for. Prepare yourselves for duty. Dismissed.”

[Tysklandia]

The agent calmed down after running around trying to get someone for days.

" The Empire had been cast out of our capital by an old enemy. They call themselves the Institute, which are a secret technologically advanced cabal underneath Boston. In the past, we had an alliance with them and the Emperor lied to the public claiming that we took them down. Yet we've underestimated their peace ever since the pro-Imperial Director was killed in exchange for a new one, a Director Hampton. He has currently orchestrated the deep infiltration of our government with his sentient androids known as Synths. This include the assassination of the late Luther Hightower and we believe he has replaced our own generals and members of the Senate with them to ensure their rise will go as seemliness as possible.

However, the government itself is still alive, but in exile and we are trying to gather whatever support we can to liberate it from their hands. Now, how can I ensure the support of the Pact if that's possible?"

Heinrich is eyes narrowed and picked up a phone and looked directly at the representative. A few moments later, the phone gave a 'click'.

"Get me the CIA board of directors in my office. Yes. All of them. And I mean NOW."

The leader of the pact his voice was harsh and strict and his face betrayed an emotion of worry mixed with disbelief and anger.

"Yeah... let's talk..."

TL;DR
Pact and Boston perform negotiations for an allience

[Tysklandia]

Georgetown, PACT
"Let us leave it at that..." Helga offered, far more diplomatic that what the 14ers, or god forbid, the 27ers would have been regarding the precious and neigh holy name of Vault tec. She could see the lack of sleep in the man's face, his eyes, it was to be expected but... Such exhaustion had been been felt by any of the UPVT leadership for decades. She was no warmonger, neither war any in the UPVT, but where there was war there was profit to be made of course. "We do have one further mater beyond the desire to speak with the Boston Imperialists. We are sending our battleship the V.T.S. Eminent Domain to see if the Panama canal still works, if so we request the right to dock in your harbors as needed, as such to facilitate trade with the east coast nations. In exchange we offer to provide no war materiel to your strategic enemies, specifically the New Yorkers. " she smiled at the man as she leaned over his desk, placing both hands on it "We are the finest international shipping in the world, with our navy having access to your ports, the world is ours to control. As we speak our ships plow the waves from California to the Orient, with your help we shall plow the seas from Beijing to Leningrad. None shall stand in our way if we stand united!"

The meeting went reasonably well, even though Heinrich had a healthy distrust and somethimes even disgust at the profit reeling vault dwellers. Their lives ran on profit and their entire democracy ran on profit. Well, if one could call their government a democracy... The harbors of Norfolk where given as a preferable trade port, because even Heinrich did not want UPVT warships that close to home.

Promisses where made roughly about trade, relations and future prospects, with the documents drafted and signed by more economically minded officials. Vault engineers and technicians would aid in the refurbishing of Norfolk aswel, considering the UPVT's strong interest in its vast pre war naval production facilities, even though currently still decrepid. Lastly, Heinrich ensured to set up a meeting, between both the Boston agent and the UPVT representative, ensuring that the UPVT knew of the strategic interests involved and the... Favors, the UPVT would enjoy in case support was given.

TL;DR
Trade agreements made with UPVT for naval commerce.
Meeting between UPVT and Boston Empire facilitated
Contract made for UPVT engineers and technicians to aid in the refurbishing of Norfolk and its production capacity.

[Tysklandia]

Pennsylvania Line
Federal Republic of New York

Private Ryder felt his truck slow to a stop, and then a huge explosion nearby as a shell exploded. Ryder ran over to a man standing on top of a stack of crates, recognizing him as Captain Jackson, of the 3rd Buffalo State Militias. The Militias had been called into service as Reserves, filling the places of the dead in the regular army. Ryder cursed the day he'd ever joined, they told him the Militia would probably never see any action, just a nice paycheck every month. Now look at him, on the front lines, and he didn't even have a Rifle yet!

Ryder was thrust forward by a sea of surging humans. Men of the other Buffalo State Militias, Volunteers, and National Reserves moving forward to be armed. The Regular Army Men already were armed and on the Front fighting. Ryder could hear Captain Jackson yelling through a boom mic. His words were not helpful.

Captain Jackson: THE ONE WITH THE RIFLE SHOOTS! ONE OUT OF TWO GETS A RIFLE! THE ONE WITHOUT FOLLOWS! WHEN THE ONE WITH THE RIFLE GETS KILLED, THE ONE WHO IS FOLLOWING, PICKS UP THE RIFLE, AND SHOOTS!

(Image)

As Ryder mulled over Jacksons words, he found himself at the stack of crates, a Quaker Rifle was thrust into his hands and the man behind him, a Private Hal of the 44th Buffalo judging by his name tag and shoulder patch, was given the extra Magazines for it.

From there, Officers pushed them and the others forward, until they were all loaded up onto trucks to be shipped into the fighting.

The front was Crazy...

Weeks before, all the news about the war was Delaware. The Third Army had its pants caught down and were on the run back to Delaware City. So, New York Army Command, or NYAC, decided they needed to relieve pressure from that front. So, it was decided that Second Army would push up from the Kendi Line to push into Washington Pennsylvania.

The first point of this push was New Castle. The 5th and 8th Regiments had been given the task of taking the town, reinforced with State Militias to a grand total of 5,000 Troops pushing to take the major city. They were supported by 12 Parrott Guns and batteries of Light Mortars. In addition, the New York Armored Cars were deployed to attack the city, as well as Air Support by the Iroquois Helicopters.

Private Ryder and Private Hal Jumped out of the back of their Truck, in front of them was the Front Lines. Bullets were flying everywhere, with NYRA Troopers pushing up and fighting, every once in a while shells fly down and explode, and a battery of Parrot Guns would open fire sending a broadside of iron balls to the town.

Ryder felt a officer, Ensign Lawrence, grab his arm and throw him forwards, blowing his whistle and yelling for everyone to charge. A flag bearer held the Buffalo State Red Flag waved the flag and started running, and a horde of men followed.

(Image)

Ryder fired off a shot from his Battle Rifle, in no particular direction, just firing hoping it will make those Washington boys keep their Fascist Heads down and not fire at him...
Behind him, he heard the rumble of a Engine as two Armored Cars came storming down the street at its top speed, its machine gun spray bullets in all directions. Above, 5 Iroquois Helicopters buzzed overhead in a fast sortie, firing rockets and machine gun fire down at the defenders of the city. Ryder turned back to ask Hal for a magazine, only to find Hal had been killed and his ammo looted from his body. Looking around desperatly, he spotted a Jeep with some ammo cans on the back. Running over, he gripped the edge of the vehicle and was about to ask the gunner for some ammo when the Gunners head exploded. The driver turned back, and looked at Ryder.

Driver: He's Dead! Holy fuck! You there, get on the MG, or we're all dead!

Ryder saluted and jumped up to the gunners seat, firmly placing the grips of the MG in his hands and the jeep started up again. Moving down the road, the jeep made quick circles around the street, firing at the Washington Fascists as they hid from the glorious New York bullets. Ryder kept firing, until he looked and saw a Washington Soldier with a rocket launcher in a window. Ryder yelled and pointed, and he and the driver dived out as the car was engulfed in flames.

The Driver, a Sergeant McGee, pulled out his Combat Pistol (M1911) and yelled and cursed the Fascists for killing his car. Ryder dragged McGee over to a low concrete wall, and picked up a magazine off a dead NYRA Trooper and put it into his Rifle. As Ryder and McGee lay there behind that concrete wall, they found that they didn't like war, not at all...

TL;DR

New York Third Army pushing south from the Kendi Line.

Major Focus of the first stages of the Push, is the assault of New Castle.

12 Parrott Rifles deployed at New Castle

5,000 Infantry at New Castle, many of low quality

80 Armored Cars Deployed

30 Iroquois Helicopters

Explosions where muffled. The gunfire sounded rather far away as the officers of the 16th and 17th Battalion held deliberations in their bunker. Communications officers yelles into their radios, ensuring continous news from the defense of northern Newcastle. They where outnumbered almost 6 to 1 and the damn enemy helicopters had already done enough damage to their artillery battery after they managed to fly through their FLAK screen.

"The 6th has reported full attacks on the line. They are requesting to retreat, in accordance with Stage I of warplan Thunderstruck. What is the status of our evacuation?"

The Colonel, in command of the western defense of Pennsylvania, stationed in the rather strategic town of Newcastle, considering it railroad works, had a firm grip on the situation. The potential retreat of northern pennsylvania had been a part of warplan Thunderstruck, they had not excepted it to be performed 2 weeks after their attack on Deleware however, but much sooner. With their MG nests, borderposts and radiostations at the border, both Newcastle and the defending forces all across the border where well warned about the enemy. The enemy their human wave doctorine was brutal and shocking to the Pact troops.

It was nearly incomprehensible for them to throw lives away so carelessly. Some decent troops, including officers and such ran between them, but a vast bulk had barely seen a machinegun before in their lives. Every inch they took for the first mile or two was hellish. Their armoured vehicles would see no refurbished roads or marked paths, so their infantry had to brunt the bulk of the advance. The first two miles of the border was a mix of MG nests, observation posts and Radiostations mixed between eachother. It was never meant for defense, but to stall an enemy attack and allow for mobilisation of the troops, further inland. In this case, Newcastle, Butler, Bethlehem and other towns rather far from the border. Their initial advance through MG fire and the occational artillery support would be bloody, but rather swift. The defending troops would quickly retreat to more fortified positions and await relief.

The attack on Newcastle however, was beyond what was expected. The enemy numbers where massive and some officers had crude macaber jokes about running out of amunition before running out of enemies to fight. Only one battery was housed in Newcastle, the other being halfway across pennsylvania, used to aid in the deep defense of pennsylvania elsewhere. But the officers did fear that defense was unfeasable, so an evacuation of the non essential personel and the people of the settlement, mostly workers on the train and railroad workshops, where shipped onto trains and send south a few miles, to be dropped off safely, in order to allow the 2 trains still in Newcastle to evacuate as many people as quick they could.

"The 6th can commence its retreat to Butler and Bethelehem, to hold and await relief, we will hold here. When does the 3rd and the 4th arrive?"

A communication officer, joining the impromtue war meeting as the sounds of fighting continued overhead, responded swiftly.

"They arrived in pittsburg Yesterday sir. They where relieved by the National guard as scheduled and should arrive within the week. Advance elements perhaps sooner."

The officer nodded, crunching the numbers and variables in his head and comming to the logical conclusion. The enemy superiority was too much. Their numbers too many. Their machineguns would run out of amunition before long and they could not risk those helicopter raids destroying more or their artillery... Damn the 1st Regiment and their priority on the majority of their heavy guns... They could have been put to good use...

"I do not assume we can hold that long. Prepare a relief column South, to New Brighton. We need to hold that crossing. Have the artillery deploy south immediatly, the flak can prepare a corridor for when we sound our retreat."

TL;DR
I'd rather not post so quick and this shitty, but I am scared for the timeskip... DO NOT DARE TO TIMESKIP BEFORE I POST DELEWARE
New Castle is home to the largest railroad and train manufacturing workshop in the pact. (Posted about thiiis) So its garrison numbers between 500 and 1k men, of 5th Regiment.
Due to overwhelming enemy numbers, the 5th performs an organised retreat to New Brighton, ensuring a proper defensive line after stretching the enemy supply lines.
The rest of the line in pennsylvania systematically also retreats in blocks of 5 to 10 miles a time, manned by the remainder of the 5th and the rest of the 6th.
In 2 weeks time, the national guard reserves would be mobilised and sent to west virginia and south carolina. Here they relieve the military regiments, the 3rd and the 4th.
They are sent to pennsylvania to relieve the attack. They will meet up with the retreating 5th and 6th, around as north as brighton as the same time as the enemy reaches that far.

[New Minahasa]

McConnel Air Force Base; Surface of Vault 122

"Ready!," a group of Concord pilots signalled each other and the command center. Ten Vertibirds were all neatly lined up on the surface of Vault 122, on McConnel Air Force Base, preparing themselves for a flight. "You are good to go, gentlemen. May God bless your travel," radioed the command center to the pilots. The Vertibirds quickly set off the AFB, forming a V formation in the sky as they head east. The Concord had responded to the Institute's cry for help, and wished to aid them in their crusade against the Boston Imperials. With their superior air force and their trained power armoured soldiers combined with the Institute's synths, Boston would be undone.

---

Vault 122

"Did you receive my reports, Mr. President?," spoke the SecDef as he entered Cannon's office. "I did, yes. Thing information is surely interesting. Do you really think this could work? Where did you come up with this idea?," replied Cannon. "Well, it wasn't mine to start with, sir. The idea for it was suggested by General Darwin, the head of the Peacekeeper Corps. He thought it would be perfect to use this advantage to ours, and directed this info to me. I agreed with this idea, but I still need your permission before this task can be executed," explained the SecDef. "You're given my permit. I actually think this is a good idea. With Vault 36 under our control, we could work our way from possibly staging a coup within the UPVT for later years if we have to," stated Cannon. The SecDef nodded and left the office to inform General Darwin of the matter.

The Peacekeeper Corps had made their headquarters within their beloved capital of Vault 122. Large numbers of them could be found living amongst their human friends within the vault, even though they still considered themselves humans, much of the Concord citizens looked at them as nothing more than mutants, a product of their government's many researches and experiments. Though still, as long as these "Super Soldiers" were willing volunteers and not forced to become what they were, the people still looked at it in a positive way.

"Captain Senior, the general wants your audience," a woman entered Senior's quarter, her body falling short from the hulking sized super soldier. "Tell him I'll be there in a minute, ma'am," replied Senior. She didn't say a word and closed the metal door. "Odd. Didn't think the general would want anything to do with me. At least not right now," thought Senior. He prepared himself as he exited his quarter and headed straight for General Darwin's room. "Glad you could make it, captain. Have a seat," spoke the general. "Thank you, sir," Senior sat on the opposite side of the general, both giants facing each other. Their chairs squeaked as men's massive bodies weighed upon them.

"I've got a very special mission for you. This has something to do with "infiltration". Not really our type of deal now, but if the reports were true, we're the only ones capable of executing it. Us, the Peacekeepers," stated the general. "You might be wondering why I chose you for this task. I don't need the most capable Peacekeeper, no, but what I DO need is someone that I can really trust, someone loyal to our case, and from what I've heard, you've proven yourself as one. Can I trust you on this?," he continued. "Yes, sir. I promise that I won't let you down. Not anytime soon," spoke Senior with confidence.

A smile crossed Darwin's face as he nodded. "Let's move on to our plans, then. Right here, on this map," Darwin pointed on a location on his Pip-Boy's map, "is the location of Vault 36, the home of raiders-and-cannibals-turned-civilized by the UPVT, although I still doubt the "civilized" part. Our intel suggested that the 36ers have a dark history of raiding and pillaging, as well as heavy usage of drugs. Your mission here is simple. Infiltrate the vault, build loyalty with them, and establish connection with us once you're inside," before he could continue, Senior quickly interrupted him. "How am I supposed to do that, sir?," he spoke. "I was just getting in on that. Well, you see, these raider bunch are known to have gladiatorial arenas that they frequently use to entertain themselves. You can use this to your advantage; sign in as a gladiator, and build your way up from there. All you need to do is gain their trust. Once you think you've succeeded, try to contact us by any means. Understood?," Senior nodded, albeit hesitantly.

---

The UPVT

He was transported a few miles outside of the UPVT's borders, where he was then give all the necessary equipments to survive a week out in the wasteland. He was only dressed in simple, oversized wastelander clothes, along with a few sacks of bottle caps. The walk towards the UPVT's border took him a few long hours. "Halt," he was stopped by the border guards. "You'll need a visa to enter the UPVT. If you have none, you can purchase them from us for 100 bottle caps. Now, do you have it?," questioned one of the guards. Senior didn't say a word and withdrew a sack of bottle caps from his backpack. "All right. Follow me, big guy," spoke the guard. Senior tailed the man until they reached a small city, and entered a building.

"If you can write, just write down your name, age, and date of birth here. We'll handle the rest for you," said the guard. Senior did as was told, and wrote down the necessary informations on the paper. "Oh, and I'll need your passport and work permit, too," stated the guard. "I don't have them," replied Senior. "You talk? I mean, if you don't have any passport or work permit, you need to buy them from us for an additional 250 bottle caps for the passport, and 250 for the work permit," spoke the guard. Senior sighed and fished out more sacks of caps and passed them to the guard. Luckily he was given a lot by the Concord before they left him to his mission. "Alright. Come back in a week or so, and we'll have your documents processed. For now, you can rent a room somewhere in the city," said the guard.

Senior walked out of the building, and went for the nearest apartment complex. He used what's left of his cash to rent a room. Exhaustion soon succumbed over him as he stepped inside, and laid upon the warm bed. The next week he returned, and was given the documents. After receiving his documents, he went to the nearest train station, where he would catch up for a destination to "Neo Jose". While the average wastelanders would take days to talk for a few miles, the train ride made it in only hours to reach the city of Neo Jose. He caught a lot of the Neo Jose and UPVT citizens' attention as he walked amongst them, with his hulking body, talling over even the highest of them all. As Senior reached the gladiatorial arenas, he could see a fight going on. He approached the guards. "Where do I sign up?", asked Senior.

[Ulls]

Salem, Imperial Army HQ

The Imperial Army had started to do their daily marches and preparing for whatever the Institute had to throw at them. The Imperial Army had not made a single move from their retreat years ago. It was here that Red Bear was inserted by the People of the Speakeasy to dislodge the General on the accusations of being a Synth. The support was slowly building to the idea but it was also that the Imperial Army needed to unite under a banner that can bring back the Empire.

General Alexander was called to a secret room where Red Bear and Glass Watch operatives were waiting for him.

" Colonel Red Bear, what is going on here?" The General asked

Red Bear asked," Alex, do you believe in the Empire?"

Alexander gave the Colonel a perplexed look," you know I do, did you bring me here to ask me that in front of these men?"

Red shook his head," no Alex I didn't."

He pulled out an energy weapon that was similar to an alien blaster but it had a tesla coil inside the chamber as arcs of electricity rotating around the very coil.

" As of 2:35 PM, General Alexander has found guilty of high treason, espionage with the Institute, replaced with a Synth." He said.

Alex was taken back at the accusations," what the hell is this Red Bear? We've fought for the Empire when the Emperor died and the Minutemen turned their backs on us. I did what was necessary-"

An electric blast shot him through his chest. Circuits, wires, and synthetic blood.

" Huh, looks like the Tesla Pistol worked," he said looking at the weapon.

" Ok, turn off any tracking he has and get him ready for delivery. Also, I want reports on the current progress that we can eliminate General Morrison with one of our own."

Lair of the Creator,
Phoenix, AZ

The large Super Mutant was looking over the remaining vats of FEV that he had in possession. The Texas Army had already did the invasion of New Mexico with heavy losses on both sides. He knew that the Texans are pushing into the land, he just didn't knew how powerful their army had became. Tanks, an airforce, and more men that they had last time. Zadok did his best to lead the defense, but against such a tide, he had no choice but to retreat. The losses were heavy, and Zadok requested to start raising the conscripts for Texas won't stop till they smash the Mutants.

Of course the Creator did what was needed for his Army. However, how long will it take for them to reach Phoenix or the Soviets to see this moment of weakness to attack. With seldom sigh his ever still scow made his plan. He sent for a pack of Nightstalkers, three groups of Disciples to head to the south, two to Texas and one to Mexico, in order to do their missions. Two were very important but one was a gamble. He needed to hold off the Texan Army for months if possible, the time would be enough for his plans to have evidence of working so that he has a chance for his dream to come true.

[Tysklandia]

Cape Cod
2nd Regiment detachement
BRS Magenta's Care



The trip towards Cape Cod had been rather uneventful. The shuffling of troops and supplies had been chaotic, even in the south of the pact. When the news came that a deal with the Boston Empire had been made, to deal with some civil war, many declared the military leadership mad. But apparently the CIA was involved and most information was highly confidential.

The 2nd Regiment had been recalled, leaving only one battalion to guard the two FOB's they had established in the region. Leaving the diplomats and pathfinders to continue their mission without their numeric support. They had been redeployed to Norfolk and where now systematically being shipped out to Cape Cod, along with supplies, amunition and everything else neccesary to aid Boston in their fight for independance.

As the few dozen soldiers stood on the railing of the impressive ship they where on, certainly more awe inspiring then anything they had ever seen before, they saw the docks of cape cod edging closer and closer.

The port itself was a place bustling with activity. The Cod had always been home to Imperial Marines and Navy sailors who had an easy life. Things were different now that the Institute had turned their world upside down as heavily armed Marines patrol the port and machinery can be heard as workers are making warships in hopes of taking the capital back.

Norfolk was larger in size, but decrepit and compared to this place, still largely a ruin, nothing compared to the effective and productive hustle this place showed.
The ship pulled into port, was moored and the small supplies that fit on the ship where unloaded and the men stepped ashore, meeting with their representatives of of Boston and report their safe arrival.

Hundreds more of them would arrive systematically in the following days and weeks. buldging the military population of Cap Cod by the thousand.

The Pact
Dover - Deleware
Colonel Harry Goodwil - 6th Regiment

The initial conversations had been hush hush, with the fighting still going on, but once a meeting was made, a partial ceasefire around deleware was made and representatives sent after close deliberation with Georgetown. Colonel Harry Goodwil was a young, ambitious officer and with this assignment, his carreer would be set for a decade. A vertibird gunship, armed to the teeth and brimming with the Pacts black eagle had delivered him into dover. A proper guard detachment, wearing long, strict black dress uniforms and equipped with Karlie rifles, escorted him to the Court house, where the meeting would be held.

TL;DR
2nd Regiment redeploys to cape Cod via the boston fleet.
1st Heavy Armor company is sent to aid in the training and refitting of the Boston power armor fleet.
Vertibird delivers Colonel Harry Goodwil to the peace talks.

[The Traansval]

Dover Courthouse
Dover
Delaware territory
Apart of Lanta State
Federal Republic of New York

January, 2252

Captain Cornellious of the New York Republican Army tapped his cigar against the ash tray, he was mad. He'd just come back from the front lines in Delaware, and now here he was, told to,kiss up to the Fascist Krauts who invaded his homeland. He wished he could spit on them, but high command knew they needed a peace.

So, Cornellious sat with a couple of Lieutenants and the heads of the meeting, Colonel Rocheford and Diplomatic Agent Sarah Buding. The doors were guarded by two NYRA Trooper a admiral both sides, and Colonel has a submachine gunner behind him.

The doors opened to admit the delegate from Washington, dressed in a black uniform that Cornellious swear was shining, his boots definitively were.

"Greetings, New York welcomes the Representative of Washington. Now, what are Washington terms for peace" said Agent Buding.

[Elerian]

Carbine, New Year

Carbine, Chicago

The smile on Solomon’s face waned for a few seconds. He was taken aback by White’s marriage proposal. It was of course high time that he be married, but he was surprised by the notion nonetheless. Solomon was nearly twenty, and he supposed his father had plans for him to be married to some two bit nobleman’s daughter anyway. But this, now? This may have been too much for Solomon to handle had Bishop Foley not interjected.

The Bishop strode forward a bit and with a sonorous voice befitting a holy man asked, “Your Royal Highness, if I may.”

Solomon came to his senses and motioned for the Bishop to continue.

“Ser White, the King will be honored to receive these gifts upon his return, but I think it best if we speak of such things at a later date, when the King is present.”

Solomon nodded his thanks to the Bishop and looked down upon Mister White once more.

“As his grace Bishop Foley has said, we are humbled by your gifts. At a later date we may speak of this again. For now, I hope you may stay as honored guests until such a time that my Lord father may treat with you.”

Violent Delights Have Violent Ends, Part III

Lord Levi Crain, arms spread out, was being attended by his squires as they buckled on his armor. Normally he would have taken care of his own gear but armor such as this could not be put on by himself. The armor itself was a sight to behold. Silver, just like the Crain colors. Stripes of green covered certain places making a secondary accent. A squire strapped on his breast plate. In the center were small emeralds encrusted into the shape of an eagle. A reversal of the colors of the Crain banner, but that was only to accentuate the armor's extravagance. The squires came and buckled on more and more pieces making Levi feel heavier. Though the steel being used was much lighter and stronger being so well crafted. It was fitting that the armor was as functional as it was aesthetically pleasing. Crain commanders always fought on the front lines with their troops. Fearless in the Fray were their words.

Cornelius looked on while each piece was being buckled. "I never thought you were one for extravagance, son."

"I'm not, but the men will fight better if they see their Lord fighting beside them. And it's easier to spot a Lord if he looks like one." Levi responded defensively. While his words were true he could not help but take pleasure in looking so regal.

When each piece from shin guards to bracers were finally in place a squire handed him his helmet. No less regal looking. It had an eagle crest on the top, with wings sprouting from the sides and a green feathered plume on top.

"You'll be easy to spot by the enemy too." Cornelius warned him.

"Aye, and I'll serve them Detroit Steel when they come for me." Levi said nonchalantly as he inspected the helmet and pulled it down over his head. The visor had been taken off. Normally Levi had it on for engagements but had since gotten it removed. The men need to see the face of their commander. It will give them spirit. Was his reasoning. Cornelius frowned at his bravado.

Finally the squires buckled on a green cloak and his saber. The cloak would come off in battle of course. Levi motioned for his father-in-law to walk with him. Lately Levi had been getting a feeling that the King’s campaign would go awry but deigned not to reveal it to his father-in-law. Not to mention there wasn't much choice for him in the matter.

The column was already prepared and awaiting him. At the front were the Royal Guards accompanying him. Next came a contingent of his household knights in armor, green cloaks and holding the Crain banners. Behind them were the other nobles of the Commonwealth who wished to take part in the battle. Finally came a few Crain men-at-arms, squires and other attendants. All wore the silver eagle on green on their breast save for the nobles of other houses. All were also on horseback, they had to get to the front lines in haste

"No heroics." Was all Cornelius said before departing back to his tent, no doubt to plan for the coming attack on Cleveland. Levi mounted his horse and took a Commonwealth banner from a squire to hold as he marched through the camp towards the perimeter. It would give the men a good show.

[Alinora]

- THE INSTITUTE -

---

Sanctuary Hills | The Commonwealth

Under the Boston Empire, Sanctuary became one of it's most successful settlements. A large population grew around the small trading post, developing into a fully-functioning town, with walls, and equipped security force, and a government: the Council. Large walls surrounded the town, with guards posted every few dozen feet, and bright lights shining towards the woods. Even before the Boston Empire, Sanctuary had prospered, but by the time the Empire fell, it's grips had become embedded in the town, and as a result, things fell apart. The town government sought independence from Boston when conflict broke out between the Senate and the Imperial Army, which brought fighting between the Imperial garrison, based out of Vault 111, and the town security. The fighting ended less than a week later with the Imperial Army's retreat, but it left behind a town in ruins. Nearly 25% of the population, and 70% of it's security personnel, were killed, homes were destroyed, and the people's trust for the Council and the Mayor was lost. Today, Sanctuary is a town of broken dreams, and a graveyard.

Very few were surprised when flashes erupted from the skies, and columns of Institute synths began marching through it's streets, shouting one simple phrase in unison. "Sanctuary is now under Institute control. Please comply." Leading them was the legendary Courser known as X6-88, who marched alongside them to the Town Hall, which had been built by the Empire as a sign of friendship, early during their rule. Nearly 100 synths began spreading through the town to secure the perimeter, and the war-torn citizens and security were in no position to resist. They dropped their weapons by the Institute's order while X6-88 and a small group proceeded to march into the Town Hall. X6-88 would order the Mayor's surrender, while the Institute flag was hoisted on the various naked flag poles - previously flying the Boston Empire's flag, but having been torn down during the fighting.

Within hours, Sanctuary Hills would be under the complete control of the Institute, with synths securing Vault 111 shortly after. As soon as possible, they would begin to implement plans to rebuild the destroyed town - starting with sending 1st Generation synths to rebuild homes, but large-scale operations would have to wait until after the Boston Empire was defeated, once and for all.

---

The Castle | The Commonwealth

For the Minutemen, the collapse of the Boston Empire marked a new chapter in the history of the Commonwealth. Rather than use the period of civil war to destroy it's enemies, the Minutemen took this time to consolidate it's power. The former General was overthrown and replaced with Timothy Russel, who sought to reorganize the Minutemen and give the people faith that things would be better. The Minutemen only saw limited engagements with Imperial factions - mainly raider bands that were defeated - and has since been sitting at the Castle, waiting for a chance to liberate the Commonwealth. The Institute, however, beat them to it - taking control of Diamond City and beginning to occupy various settlements. Currently, the Minutemen's future is unknown, but many within it's ranks still hope to help the Commonwealth, and have... fixed feelings of the Institute.

Shortly after word reached the Institute that their forces had captured Sanctuary, another mission was ordered to be carried out immediately. This one, however, was not a campaign to secure a city, or a town, but to secure an ally vital to the war effort: the Minutemen. Director Hampton only trusted one asset in doing this: T6-77. The Courser was teleported just outside the perimeter of the Minutemen headquarters - immediately picked up by dozens of armed soldiers, and nearly blinded by spotlights. He raised his hand up to block the light, but it hardly helped, so he merely waited until he was approached. Over a loadspeaker, a voice came on. "Why are you here, Synth?"

T6-77 was quick to respond. "I come on behalf of Director Hampton. I am not here to cause harm - only to speak with General Russel."

There was a few moments of silence before the doors to the Castle opened up, and a squad of armed guards exited. T6-77 proceeded to walk forewords, looking at the Minutemen on either side of him, and he could hear their whispers.

"Shouldn't we stow his guns?"

"He could kill half of us without them - what difference does it make"

T6-77 was met by a man in what was clearly the outfit of the General of the Minutemen: Timothy Russel. He approached the man while crossing his arms, and stood no less than a few feet from his face - staring directly into his eyes. "What do you want from us?" the General asked with a cold gaze in return.

"The Institute does not wish to engage in hostilities with the Minutemen. In fact, we wish for you to have a very prominent role in it's future." T6-77 remained completely still, and maintained an emotionless expression. "We would like your help in defeating the... poisonous remains of the Boston Empire, so that we may rebuild the Commonwealth."

The General almost seemed offended, and his tone reflected it. "Do you seriously expect me to-"

"I don't expect you to understand" T6-77 interrupted. "I expect you to comply." There was a moment of silence before the Courser continued. "The Minutemen are a part of the Commonwealth - they have been for many years. If you truly wish to see a better future for the Commonwealth, then I hope to see you at Salem." T6-77 vanished in a flash of light.

[Waztaskio]

---

Fort Maxson - February 3rd, 2252

After two and a half weeks of travelling, Scribe Thirteen and Knight Perez had made their way back to Colorado, linking up with the troops at Fort Maxson. Upon their return, they would be greeted with upon arms with High Elder Maxson himself wishing to hear the mission report. Just earlier in the week, Fort Snow had been fully disabled and the troops guarding it had also returned back to Fort Maxson which left it as the only Brotherhood fort. Perez and Thirteen would begin to tell Maxson everything that had occurred on their journey, much to the distaste of the High Elder. Once they finished the story, Perez and Thirteen would be assigned to other squads as the High Elder would call a meeting of the Council of Elders in the early days of February.

"Council, I have a few things to discuss. And it concerns carrying out operations outside of Fort Maxson." Maxson said, as he placed a few documents he had written up onto his desk and begin to read through them. "The Brotherhood encountered a civilization in Atlanta which was found to be controlled by someone called the Master Surgeon. This bastard captured our brave brothers in arms, and if they haven't already killed them are holding them captive within their facilities. Regardless of if they're dead or alive, we cannot allow this insult to stand." Elder Pepper would nod with the rest of the council as she would look to Maxson, "What do you propose High Elder?" Maxson would type into his console, bringing a holographic projection of the new Brotherhood Airships currently in construction at Schriever Air Force Base. "When the first Airship is ready to launch, I want it's first voyage to be Atlanta. And, I want to personally be on that Airship leading the mission for one." Maxson would quickly switch to a holographic projection of a laser rifle, as he continues.

"For two, we need to put some focus on weapons development. Currently, we're producing T-60 Power Armor which is great, but we need to find out how the to manufacture the T-45d, T-51b, and prevent others from getting their hands on these secrets. And third, we need to really begin emphasizing more weaponry in general. These factions may not have Power Armor, but they have artillery, air support, etc. I want our scribes to begin looking into Pre-War defense contractors and attempt to scavenge anything of use. I don't care if we have to build our own weapons, but we need some blueprints." Maxson finished. Elder Kline would clear his throat and begin to speak, "High Elder, this is all great. However, from our intel it seems the West Tek facility housing our Power Armor plans has been bombed into submission. There may be some plans still there, and the area is too highly radiated for your average scout to get passed. It could be worth a shot." Kline finished, giving a light shrug.

As Maxson would look around the room for anymore comments, he would come up empty and sigh. "If nobody has any objections, then let's take a vote. Take note, we're voting on the expedition to West Tek for now. The rest will come later." The council would begin to vote, with it coming out with a unanimous verdict of "yes." After receiving the votes, the council would agree to send twenty four soldiers to West Tek due to the failure of their last expedition with twelve, hoping to turn up more success then previously acquired.

---

Ridgecrest, California - March 1st, 2252

"Senior Paladin Richard!" Shouted a BoS Scribe, as he looked to see who had called him. "Scribe Thirteen. What do you have for me?" Thirteen would smile to Richards, as she points into the irradiated area known as The Glow. "Our intelligence has played out quite well. We now are sixty nine percent sure that the West Tek facility is within that radioactive mess. Just, make sure you keep your Power Armor on." Thirteen had been assigned to this new expedition after submitting a personal request through her chain of command. When she was accepted, she was surprised Knight Perez had also submitted a request to be assigned to the expedition, this one lead by Senior Paladin Richard and composed of a new setup of two Paladins, four Junior Paladins, one Senior Knight, four Knights, six Journeyman Knights, three Initiates, one Journeyman Scribe, and two Scribes. Making the total number of people on the expedition twenty-four, double the number sent to Atlanta. The Brotherhood had also brought camping equipment with them, allowing them to set up a small outpost outside of the West Tek facility to handle communications and sleeping arrangements. Since arriving six days ago, they had fully set up their tents and fires, with the Scribes determining how far of a walk into the radioactive crater they would need to go before reaching the facility.

"It will be a fifteen minute walk to the facility. Mission time is estimated to take about an hour or so, so try not to dally. When we get what we came for, we can get out of here." Richard would nod, "Just hold down the fort here and we'll be back. My squad, let's go!" Senior Paladin Richards would be joined by Senior Knight Joyce, Paladin Mark, Junior Paladin Quartz, Junior Paladin Leslie, Knight Elk, and Knight Lockwood. After a quick briefing, they would begin to head into the radioactive zone with Thirteen working the radios within the tents. "Squad Alpha, this is Crown. Radio check, over." Static would fill the radio for a moment before a response would come through, "Crown, Squad Alpha checking in. Hearing you loud and clear. Commencing mission."

---

(( It's now March 1st, so try and keep your posts sorted dated to keep time progressing at some speed. ))

[Alinora]

- COMMONWEALTH RADIO -

---

Attention: citizens.

I am your host, Adam Davis, and you're listening to Commonwealth Radio. The date is March 1st.

Today in the headlines, Institute forces have occupied the last stronghold belonging to the remnants of the Imperial Army: Salem. There is a twist, however, for it was reported that Imperial forces had actually retreated the night before, abandoning their holdout. Institute sources have not confirmed a location to which the Imperial Remnants retreated, but stated that they will find out.

In other news, the project dedicated to repairing damaged infrastructure in an around Diamond City, as well as in Bunker Hill and Sanctuary, has been completed. Thousands of people, who's lost power, plumbing, and running water during the civil war, now have access once again. Institute sources say that they will continue domestic programs to help "improve sanitation" of towns. So, if you see a skeleton synth cleaning your streets, remember that he's there for you.

Lastly, General Russel of the Minutemen has reportedly met with the Director, and the two have organized what Minutemen sources are calling a "long-term plan for peace, stability, and prosperity in the Commonwealth." The relationship between the Institute and Minutemen has been rocky, if nothing else, but with the leaders of both sides now coming together, this may be solved.

That's all I got for you tonight, ladies and gentlemen. Please tune in later for more news, and for now, here's some music.

[Fascist Republic Of Bermuda]

Union of Soviet Socialist Settlements

OVER THE TIMESKIP

• After incident involving a janitor, annonia, and bleach, chlorine gas researched, production just started. More advanced weapons are being looked into.
• 1st Rifle Battalion takes and digs in in Fresno, renamed "Novyy Stalingrad"
• 4th and 6th Rifle Battalions and 3rd Tesla Brigade deployed to sweep expand USSS territory in SoCal.
• 5th Rifle Battalion digs in further against Creator's Army in USSS territory in Arizona
• Stalinwood produces first feature film, "The October Revolution". Reviews all positive.
• USSS begins to look into AA and tripod mounts for 12.7mm machine gun. Results pending.
• 5 Mi-24a "Atomic Hind" gunships restored with aid from old manuals and parts of the USSS's now-useless Vertbirds. Able to use miniguns only due to shortage of rockets.
• Civilian airship line established between Santo Rosa, UPVT, and Novaya Moskva.
• With assistance from UPVT, rail lines begin construction connecting UPVT to USSS.

USSS Reconnaissance Airship Everlasting Revolution

"Comrades!" The Captain announced, "We are nearing the Glow, where our comrades in the NKVD says lies advanced technology, power armor!" "Da, like the decaying billboards the capitalists left!" A young crewcomrade said cheerily. The Everlasting Revolution was one of two reconnaissance airships the USSS operated, and its current mission was to scout the Glow before the main force arrived. "Comrade-Captain!" A machine gunner called from his 12.7mm MG, "I see a camp!" The Captain scowled and made his way over to the MG team. Sure enough, there was a camp. Wait... he raised his binoculars. Strange markings, but what most jumped out to him was the power armor. Shit. "Cyka blyat, the entire camp is in capitalist power armor! Radiocomrade!" The Soviet manning the airship's radio looked up. "Da, Comrade Captain?" "Signal the main force, tell them to divert force to... talk to these strangers!" The Radiocomrade nodded and went about his task. The captain leered over the machine gunner's shoulder, staring down at the... strangers. If they were from the Wasteland, how were they able to get so close to Novaya Moskva? If they were a group around there always, then how were they able to go unnoticed for so long? Either way, he had a sinking feeling the NKVD would take a particular interest in these strange events.

En Route to Former West Tek Research Facility, South of Novaya Moskva, USSS

The trip was not too long, actually, but for the lack of the paved roads that criss-crossed the USSS made the marching soldiers feel it all the more. The 5th Rifle Battalion had provided the majority of the manpower for the mission, 20 Shock Troopers, 10 cavalrymen, and 40 conscripts, with the 1st Tesla Brigade providing 10 Tesla Troopers to the task. In addition, 2 commissars were brought along, the NKVD needed to be on the forefront of this. To round it all off was Booneovich, the Angel of Pekargrad, founder of the Scout Snipers. The same childish gleam in her eye she had 10 years ago was still there, not diminished in the slightest by 10 years of serving the Union. The conscript platoon's radiocomrade received a message from the reconnaissance airship. "Comrades, there is another force, heavily armed, in capitalist powered armor," the Junior Lieutenant announced. Gulps. "Comrade-Lieutenant," The Tesla Sergeant in charge of the Tesla Troopers boomed, "I suggest we destroy them utterly." "What if we talk to them first, see if they can persuaded into the ways of communism?" Someone suggested. The Junior Lieutenant turned to the Commissar for help. "We keep on towards our objective. Booneovich shall hold them up." Booneovich perked up. "How, Commissar? Blow a hole in their silly bulky heads? Talk to them?" The second commissar smiled a little. "Try observing them. If all else fails, open fire. I am going with 4 Shock Troopers and a dozen conscripts to talk to them. I would also like 5 Tesla Troopers to accompany us. The rest of you, continue on your mission. The Glow is the objective here, comrades!" With a few nods, the task force split.

Using intelligence from the Everlasting Revolution, the group meant to intercept the party quickly learned that the power armors' objective was the Glow itself. The other Soviet group was contacted, informed of the apparent objective, the NKVD was informed quickly. Back in Novaya Moskva, the Atomic Hinds were prepped. Intelligence reported that power armor was notoriously hard to deal with, this was an NKVD operation, no chances were to be taken. Fortunately, the two groups collided short of the crater itself, where the rest of the Soviet force worked quickly to build up some semblance of a perimeter before descending.

"Privyet!" The Commissar called out to the Brotherhood group, the 5 massive 2.5 meter tall Tesla Troopers clanking behind him, lumbering forward in the way they always did. "I am Commissar Sveltana Itokawavich," The Commissar did look distinctly Asian-American despite the clear Russian accent, "of the People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs of the Union of Soviet Socialist Settlements, I am here to inform you that you are violating the territory of the Union of Soviet Socialist Settlements, and to accept first an explanation then your unconditional surrender!" Crouching behind a rock, the Shock Troopers and conscripts held their breaths. "This is not going to work..." Shock Trooper Dimitrova, wielding a flamer, sighed, facepalming. Shock Trooper Alexov, carrying a laser pistol, next to Dimitrova, nodded silently. Booneovich shushed Dimitrova with a kick to the helmet, peering down the scope of her old hunting rifle, gifted to her by a dying sniper so many years ago, as she watched the scene unfold.