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Fallout: South the Mason [IC Thread]

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The Traansval
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Founded: Jun 26, 2016
New York Times Democracy

Fallout: South the Mason [IC Thread]

Postby The Traansval » Wed Mar 21, 2018 5:03 pm



Image
South the Mason

War. War never changes.
When atomic fire consumed the earth, those who survived did so in great, underground vaults.
When they opened, their inhabitants set out across ruins of the old world to build new societies, establish new villages, forming tribes.

As decades passed, these villages and tribes began to grow. Some united with others, forming greater nations.
Some conquered others, creating vast empires built on a foundation of blood and slaves.

These nations would fight, just as the men of the old world did.
In this cauldron of fire and war, nations would rise and fall, with only a few rising above the others to form great Empires.

Now is your time. For after decades of war, you and your nation stand alive and well over the corpses of the dead nations.
Shall you conquer your neighbors, or band together with them against outside nations. Shall you dominate the land, or protect your Neutrality.
It's up to you, but no matter what, war shall go on. For War, never changes."


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Penn Hills
Lobbyist
 
Posts: 19
Founded: Feb 29, 2016
Ex-Nation

Postby Penn Hills » Wed Mar 21, 2018 5:34 pm

New Orleans, the Second Kingdom of Orleans

Image


"Good morinin' y'all. This is Hap Abernathy from Sunny Days radio. I'm sorry to say it don't seem to sunny out today, but still a fine, fine day for anybody lookin' for a stroll through the royal city. Bring some caps along and maybe you'll get lucky at the Pearl Casino. This is sponsored by the Pearl Casino, spend your caps, strike it rich. And now for the news."

"I'm sorry to say that another fellow was murdered up in Baton Rogue, outside the Goodman Saloon. Private contractors working for Governor John Ridge say that the case is still being worked on, and no details are yet to be made public. However, they have advised against traveling at night in the city, particularly in the northern outskirts, where a brash of these murders have occurred in the last two months. Those that are so bull-headed to cast aside Ridge Boys' requests, I suggest y'all keep yourself armed. In other news, recent strides in armor development by the armed forces may soon allow them better protection out in the field. Head General France-Isidore Lockport says that such armor may be given to regular troops by the end of the month."

"And finally, what most of y'all have actually been waiting for, is the tunes. We're gonna kick the day off with some classics. Y'all know him, y'all listened to him, and y'all certainly heard this song before. It's time for some Hank Williams."


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R7WZZIzTU9A

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The Manticoran Empire
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Founded: Aug 21, 2015
Corporate Bordello

Postby The Manticoran Empire » Wed Mar 21, 2018 7:09 pm

Washington
Republic of Washington


Frank Underwood was running late. He had been bouncing through meetings all day. A collection of Ghouls was rampaging in the North. There was an increase in raider presence all along the border. The Army was wanting permission to begin a campaign against raiders to the south and west. Several of the Mississippi militias were wanting extra weapons. Everyone wanted more cash. He didn't have any to give them, though. The budget was tight and the Legislature was looking to cut funds from the frontier training program to fund road construction. It had been a program that had gone woefully underfunded for almost 70 years, overlooked while the army marched all over the region, slaughtering ghouls and raiders whilst assimilating bands of survivors.

He stopped in front of a door labeled "Chief of Staff" and knocked. A gruff voice responded, "Enter." He walked in and walked to the desk of General Ronald Fedor. The General rose, "Mr. President, it's good to see you. How have you been?"
"Good, Ronald. How about you?"
"Not bad. I actually came to talk to you about your request."
Ronald smiled. "The punitive expedition. The militia have been complaining about raiders for months. I figure it's time to deal with it."
"You might be right but the problem is the Legislature. They already think we spend too much on military operations and the frontier. They want to spend more on the road projects."
Ronald laughed this time. "Roads? What good are roads gonna be if our people can't walk them safely. We've got to deal with these raiders. We don't have to kill all of them, just enough that they decide it's bad business to raid our territory."
"I'll talk to the Legislators. Maybe I can get them to support it. We'll have to give them something, though."
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The Knockout Gun Gals
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Founded: Aug 06, 2012
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Knockout Gun Gals » Wed Mar 21, 2018 9:48 pm

Horsemen, Louisville


Tribal Chief Q'uoana Kilcher observed the Louisville city. He looked up, right, and left, as he and his cadres of bodyguards followed him from behind. Today marked the day of happiness, of wealth, of welfare. Bunch of nonsense words, but bunch of good nonsense words. Q'uoana put his day of today on looking after his craftsman, his civilians, his non-armed people who worked hard on utilizing the resources they had so far.

They planned for another raid this month. There is a village far from here, they stocked their food supplies. They rebuffed the negotiation attempt, they even killed few of Horsemen. They wouldn't stand for a larger invasion force, though. Q'uoana had planned for a group of cavalry corps to march there, armed with mixed of weapons, from post-wasteland firearms to bow and arrow, to pipe melee to knife and to crowbar, to sword and to spear. Those weapons may be enough for the raid. He planned it extensively, also for other villages who refused the diplomatic or trade attempts.
Last edited by The Knockout Gun Gals on Wed Mar 21, 2018 9:53 pm, edited 1 time in total.
The Knockout Gun Gals wrote:
TriStates wrote:Covenant declare a crusade, and wage jihad against the UNSC and Insurrectionists for 30 years.

So Covenant declare a crusade and then wage jihad? :p

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Greater Redosia
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Founded: Aug 01, 2016
Tyranny by Majority

Postby Greater Redosia » Thu Mar 22, 2018 8:25 am

Richmond HQ, Council Room


The small table was set in the middle of the dimly lit room, the light overhead swaying back and forth. The sound of the fission battery zapping and the occasional spark falls from the ceiling into the table, Head Regulator Garner leaned forward and slowly unraveled the map of the region. He started placing chess pieces on certain areas signifying the locations of the Regulator HQ’s and outposts. The other members stayed silent so Head Regulstor Garner knew they were waiting on him to begin speaking.

“Well it’s quite obvious that our influence in the region has become more fragile than it has ever been, with the New Ninety-Five breathing down our necks, the State of Norfolk across the river here” he points to the Hampton-Norfolk checkpoint “and those big robot lookin’ dudes over at the pentagon with their technocopters and robots. We seem to be in quite the situation.”

Head Regulator Anton stepped forward, “Well it’s obvious we have to possibly set up some deals with the three, I’m sure they would happily pay for our services!”

Garner slammed his fist down on the table, “We are not mercenaries! We already agreed to allow minimal fees on protection but we are not going to start going around to the highest bidder. We are the first and last line of defense for the people of this region and we will support them against the raiders, against the tribals, against the wildlife and that is final!”

Anton stayed silent then left the room slamming the door behind him, Head Regulator Jessie kept his mouth shut while in the prescense of the three Old Guards. The other Old Guards mumbled to themselves about the situation that just happened in the room.

North Regulator I-95 checkpoint

The small checkpoint making up of three makeshift buildings, a small box that held a regulator who would ask any caravans what they saw and to pay the toll for passing through, a dinning hall where today’s special was crow on a stick, and the barracks which housed the 15 regulators though it had a maximum capacity for 20. It also had a watchtower where the radio set and two scouts were located.

“Hey Jeffery” one of the Regulators in the tower said to his companion, “Do you ever wonder why we are here”.

Jeffery turned his head away from his binoculars and looked at the other in the eyes, “Why the sudden question Bill, you never tend to ask questions. Especially one such as this one.”

“Well, I wonder. Is any of this real? Are we just living in some made up world that never really existed? Are we just some figments of someone’s imagination?”

“Damn it Bill! I told you to stop talking to those Cultists! They go on and on and on about some god named Vaal and some Demi-god named Red and all those stupid spirits. You gotta stop listening to them and keep an eye on that radio, at least put on some music.”

Bill turned the dials on the radio a bit until a signal came through, “This is your Vice President, John Hen-“ but before the radio could continue Jeffery spoke up in a yell. “Turn that shit off!”
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Tysoania
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1141
Founded: Mar 26, 2012
Democratic Socialists

Postby Tysoania » Thu Mar 22, 2018 8:55 am

Mobile, Federation of Coast States

Red Hughes could hear the wind whistling through the remains of the Port Authority building. His office, as Minister of the Economy, was situated on the waterfront in South Mobile, across the street from the gutted Port Authority tower to allow him to better monitor the activities of the fishing fleet. However, that whistling never ceased. Day or night, calm or windy, sunny or radstorm weather, it never stopped. He really had to get the army to tear it down.

Hughes shook himself and turned back to his work. On his desk was a report listing the production figures for the Johnson Brothers farm in North Mobile, although calling it a farm was generous. The land was actually just part of the swamps up there, and the Brothers spent their days herding the Mirelurks that lived there. In exchange for the army's help capturing runaway Mirelurks and rounding up new ones, the brothers sent all their meat to the Ministry for resale in the downtown markets. Of course, this made the brothers' problem also Hughes' problems, which was why he was looking over this report. It looked like they were slowly increasing production recently, which was good news for Hughes. His beloved fishing fleet was also doing fairly well, despite the President's expectations. Sure, the fish had mutated into something that only vaguely resembled fish, but it was still edible.

His main concern was the expansion across the bay. The President had enthusiastically ordered an expansion to across the bay, despite Hughes' concerns. Meaher Outpost, which was the Federation's easternmost outpost, had reported that the bridge from Mobile to the Outpost was in bad shape and probably couldn't hold any Brahmin carts, which meant that all building supplies would have to be moved on foot. Even worse, the bridge from the Outpost to the East Bank, as it was known, had collapsed long ago. There was no way to cross at the moment, and Hughes supposed that he would have to send his fishing fleet over to act as ferries.

The only other option was sending the construction teams and their supplies through North Mobile, and there was no way that was happening. The average death rate in the swamps was 5 a week, and that was for the army. Unarmed civilians wouldn't stand a chance crossing through those deadly wetlands.

Hughes' only hope was that the President had forgotten about the project by now. The President wasn't known for being a bright man, and he was more focused on annexing the west than attempting to put together a colony in the East Bank. As soon as rumours of a new settlement reached the President's ears, he dropped everything to attempt to bring them into the Federation. If the President had one strength, it was that he was pretty goddamn charming when he needed to be. Hughes stared at the production figures for another minute, then sighed in frustration and shoved the paper into a drawer. It was getting dark out, and he was due at Paddy's Pub for poker. He'd been late yesterday, and he wasn't planning on it tonight.

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New Minahasa
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Founded: Sep 05, 2016
Ex-Nation

Postby New Minahasa » Thu Mar 22, 2018 1:46 pm

Fayette, Alabama

"Hail to the Allfather!"

"Hail to the Allfather!"


"Hail to the Allfather!"

The repeated chants rang across the whole town as the stench of smoke and scorched flesh filled the horizon. Yet another successful raid, spearheaded by no other but the notorious Deathshead, leader of the infamous 88th Brigade. Lessons had to be taught. Protection and safety were promised to them for naught but a small sum of monthly tribute, yet the townsmen would not accept a band of raiders ruling over them.

This denial was, literally, the last mistake they would and could ever make. The following day, a larger force than before arrived at the doorsteps of the fortified town. The townsmen were prepared; they had heard of the atrocities committed by these lowly ruffians, and they damn well what was to come. But a decision had to be made, and they decided to either live as free men, or die as free men. A third option wasn't negotiable.

There would be no evacuation or whatsoever. All exits and entrances were surrounded by bloodthirsty raiders. One could only pray that a miracle from God would be delivered to these innocents, but no such prayer was answered that day. The attack was swift and brutal. The town militia put up one hell of a fight, but they were no match against the battle-hardened raiders. In under an hour, the town's defences were breached.

Drugged-up raiders, hell-bent on destruction, littered the streets like a swarm of ants. Most of the militia was dead, leaving the town completely undefended. Their valuables were looted, the women raped on the spot, the youngs taken captive and on the path of enslavement, and the less unfortunate ones sacrificed on wooden stakes.
There would be no tales nor stories about their bravery. All there was left behind... nothing but dust and smoke. Through fire and blood, one would make it through the day. An example had to be made.

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The Traansval
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Posts: 9122
Founded: Jun 26, 2016
New York Times Democracy

Postby The Traansval » Thu Mar 22, 2018 7:07 pm

Hampton-Norfolk Bridge, Norfolk Side.

"Our forces our ready sir"

Who the fuck is this twerp. God he must be sixteen at least, doesn't even have a sprout of hair on his face. Fuck, salute salute salute, get the paper. Alright, hes off to his Regiment. Whats this paper. 2nd Regiments in position, alright. Wheres the runner from 3rd Regiment?


"Wheres the Runner from 3rd Regiment?"

"I believe thats him on the Horizon, Sir. Looks like hes ridding that pony down hard."

Jesus he ain't lying, where the fuck did that kid learn how to ride, he one them Integrates? No matter, fuck kid slow down don't be a show off. Oh great, jump off, real professional, and keep that damn salute crisp.

"Colonel Hamish, sir, 3rd Regiment is in position and awaiting your orders."

Fuck

"Thank you... Lapels, rank and name on the lapels, don't fuck this up now. Corporal. That will be all"

"Yes, Sir"

Right then, they're both ready. God will reserve a special place in hell for this.

"Warrant Officer, send up the yellow smoke. Signal the Virginia. We start now"

"Yes Sir, sending up smoke now"

Smoke Signals, the Madhawks used those; ain't we supposed to be the Civilized ones?

"Sir, the Virginia sends back green. They're ready"

Now or nothing. May the lord have mercy on their souls.

"Send up Red, the assault begins now. Bring me my whiskey."

"Now sir? Are you sure this is a good time?"

"There has never been a greater time, Captain. None in the history of mankind have every needed to dull it more than i since someone pressed the Nuclear button"


Hampton-Norfolk Bridge, Checkpoint

The men of 12th Battalion crouched down, their platoons sitting under the heavy blanket of twilight. The sun was on the horizon, dipping blow the blue waves the throw up orange rays across the stratosphere. Corporal James Tyler came thundering in, slipping off his horse and tying it down with the handful of others in the back of the checkpoint. He awkwardly attempted to run while still crouched, up to his commander Officer the infamous Captain Alexander Mitchel, hero of the Madhawk Campaigns, commander of 12th Battalion.

"Sir, Colonels been informed"

The Captain simply nodded, his face betraying his trouble. Three mortars were set up behind them on the bridge, under tarps. Further behind them, off the bridge, was the rest of 3rd Regiment, waiting for the signal when the battalion had broken through the Regulators line. No war had been declared, but was there a need? They were just some filthy Tribals attempting to play Police. Diplomats had sent threat after threat to them, warning that if they did not back off from Hampton there would be consequences. And they were now nigh.

A brief flash in the sky, Red. The Captain stared at it, just staring. The others saw it, racked their bolts. Across the sound, a whistle broke, and the Captains mind seemed less cluttered all of a sudden. He drew his own whistle to his lips, and blew as hard as he could. Its screeching sound pierced the silent dusk, followed by brief silence. Silence shatter by a roar, a roar of men as they thundered across the pavement of the old world bridge. Then came the shots, a mix of sounds and sights erupting over the blank canvas of the late evening atmosphere. Pings as bullets richochet, globs of plasma flew and the sound of sizzling flesh filled their ears as crude energy weapons fired. The sound was horrid, so they just screamed louder. A war cry with no meaning except the one they gave them, a channeling of rage and fear.

Corporal Tylers feet felt as heavy as lead as he ran. He didn't think about where he was going, just that he had to keep moving. The sound of thunder echoed across the stretch of ocean, as the guns of the mighty frigate Virginia fired their guns in a broad side against the enemy position. Row boats were landing on the beaches, Marines that had been sent off from her now landed on the beaches under the towering bridge. With grenades and rifles they stormed to cut off the Regulators from behind. Then came the mortars, each platoon have a crew and now they were dropping volleys. Softening up the enemy for when the men would crash into them.

Blood. Tylers tasted blood. His face was mushed into the pavement, he'd tripped over a dead body. The body of Captain Mitchel, the invisible man who had spent decades fighting for Norfolk, leading countless victories, was dead. The men around him wavered, seeing their leader dead. Tyler didn't think; he snatched his commanders beret and slapped it on his head, crying "FORWARD BOYS!". In the darkness, few could tell his ruse.

Pain. The corporals shoulder hurt, slammed into a concrete barricade. Cover. Cover from the bullets flying in the air. Behind them, the light machine guns were firing to cover them. Tylers ducked his head over, aimed his rifle and fired a burst, jumping back down to avoid getting shot. More and more men were running past him, charging. Some stopped to fire, some threw grenades, some just stopped for seemingly no reason. No reason except for the red stain on their uniform.

Tylers peaked once more, then fell down once more. As force had pushed him down, he wasn't sure what until he saw his stolen beret on the ground beside him, a red hot hole in the middle from where a laser beam had gone through it. He gulped, the fear of the situation hitting him. One of the Lieutenants saw him, ran over and grabbed him by the lapels.

"You wanna live or die son! Cause if you stay here you sure as hell ain't living!"

The lieutenant grabbed a helmet off a dead soldier, slapped it on the Corporals head and threw him forwards. Tyler took a few wobbly steps before the bullets around him go him running. In front of him was the checkpoint, a place he had seen everyday while on guard duty. It was the limit of Regulator influence, and now it was swarming with Norfolk soldier. Their rifles were gone, forgotten, instead their shovels or pistols were in hand. Tyler jumped across the sandbags, fired his rifle at one of the Regulators without thinking, just spraying from the hip until his gun clicked and he threw it off. He took his shovel, and joined the Melee. He didn't think, he just felt as part of the Collective, the mob. He was hitting anything in front of him that wasn't wearing Green, and he was doing a damn fine job of it.

It felt like days, decades even. Just standing there, in a giant group of men and women fighting. A ghoul was in front of him and he didn't even think, just threw himself at the man and hacked with his shovel. Soon the ghoul was on the ground, but the Corporal just kept hacking and hacking, blood was everywhere and coated his face. BANG!, a pistol shot. Tyler crawled backwards off the body, his Lieutenant standing over him, his pistol smoking as he looked down.

Tyler looked all around, and he saw everything was still. No body moved, they just stood there. They'd won, any Regulators who'd lived were running, and no one bothered shooting them. The Lieutenant stared at Tyler, the man seemed to bore his way into Tylers sole just with his eyes. He reached into his belt, took out his flare gun. Without breaking eye contact, he fired the flare into the sky. It was White, stark White. The signal that the checkpoint was taken.

The Signal that they'd won.
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Asturial
Envoy
 
Posts: 265
Founded: Apr 30, 2017
Ex-Nation

Postby Asturial » Thu Mar 22, 2018 9:20 pm

Image


Hootch, in the old world town of Borger

The thirty-man strong party of Morganist troopers began crossing into the smoking village. The fire was small and manageable for the locals, they ran back and forth dumping water on the flames as Colonel Grace and his men approached. At the center of it all a collection of five tough looking villagers knelt hands raised, crude bayonets and swords poking into their chests and backs. The village wasn't much more than a couple of shacks and one or two pre-war buildings. Nothing like Fort Meredith only a short four miles back west and south.

Leaning forward in his saddle, the Colonel couldn't help but feel disappointed by Hootch and it's citizens. General Morgan's offer had been more than kind, they would have been practically left alone, they just had to submit to tribute like the other settlements within the Domain. With scant more than two dozen people living there, the benefits out measured the costs. However they resisted. Not only did they resist the savages beat the diplomat sent by Morgan, the man lost his right eye from that beating. Colonel Grace tightened his grip on the reigns as he watched his men fill the town.

"Sergeant, get some men to relieve the Vanguard of their prisoners, they have earned a rest after taking the town." Colonel spoke quietly and the man beside him raced off bellowing and snarling as men hopped to new orders.

Grateful men pulled off of their five prisoners and moved back to their horses, likely to get water and second to recollect after their sudden rush across the narrow river. They truly deserved a rest for their daring attack. Split into two groups of ten, half rushed across the narrow river on their horses while the rest covered from behind, the meager defenders were poorly armed, and only one seemed experienced well enough to pick his shots under fire from the better armed Morganists. He had taken down three of the Morganist soldiers by himself, severely injuring two of them and outright killing another.

Grace glanced to the river bank where a table under an awning had been cleared for a makeshift operating table for the wounded men. Judging by the blood, they wouldn't live much longer, and their squad would be thirsting for the blood of the settlement's defenders. That was an issue, his men seemed to expect to pillage the settlement and make off with the residents as thralls. It was the usual way of dealing with resistance, it had been for decades by this point. However the five brave ones held at blade point would be better used in the Morganist army alongside other recruits. The colonel forced himself to come to a decision and circled the small group of prisoners, his back to the majority of his men now gathering the rest of the villagers as well.

At the end of the five defenders was a bloodied man, his hand was visibly broken and one of his eyes was swollen shut. When the soldiers grabbed him from the hastily constructed barricade the others had folded in without issue, definitely the heart of their resistance and the man who had done the most damage in the fight. Grace suspected he had ordered the beating of the General's diplomat as well. The Colonel pointed and flicked his hand, causing two men to roughly drag the prisoner before the rest of the town. He waited a moment for the villagers to be properly rounded up. Sizing them up, most whimpered and sniffed, while holding back tears. A few glared back at their conqueror with hatred barely in check.

"A few days ago," The Colonel finally spoke in a booming voice. "A group of three men were sent here, peacefully to offer friendship to you all gathered before me. Of those three people sent, only one man returned, so badly beaten he lost the ability to use one of his eyes. That man, happened to be a good friend of mine, so imagine my elation at being given the chance to exact my revenge for my dear friend. I wanted to find the individual responsible for such depravity and beat them myself." He waited pausing to allow the people to point out the guilty party with their eyes. Fear for their kin would make this easy enough.

The villagers looked down while several glanced briefly back and forth from Grace and the man on his knees. A few additional sobs slipped out from the crowd. Grace slowly guided his horse between the people and the prisoner before them. He took time to look many of them in the eyes, holding their gaze til they looked away. Then Circling around the people he stopped at what appeared to be the town mechanic shop and eyed the machinery inside. Snapping at a soldier had had him fetch a half dozen hammers and wrenches off the wall. Trotting back to the circled up townspeople he had the soldier drop them in front of the man on the ground.

"I have thankfully calmed down from my anger I felt days ago for what you did to my dear friend. However, while I no longer seek vengeance, punishment is my duty to deliver." He waited for the people to process what he was saying.

"So in that line of thinking, it is best that the people of this town dole out the punishment for their own transgressions. With that in mind I would like several of you to volunteer to punish this man on behalf of the town of Hootch." Gasps and muffled cries rippled through the gathered people, but Grace watched as the prisoner hung his head. He couldn't be sure but it seemed the man was more relieved at the mercy for his town rather than sadly accepting his fate. Pity the man wasn't in the Morganist army, principles like his blended well.

After a while no-one volunteered and Grace was very tired of waiting. His men seemed to be itching to beat the man themselves, but it was better this way. These people needed to be made a part of the Domain, and if they took this step then it would be much easier to incorporate them. A sort of initiation.

"If you don't start volunteering for your new tasks I will be forced to react to resistance. I will count back from thirty and killt one of you, if still no-one has taken up these hammers and done what has required, then we will continue counting down and eliminating people until it is done." Without command a young man was pulled from the group and forced to his knees, a knife digging into his throat drawing a trickle of blood.

"Thirty."
Last edited by Asturial on Fri Mar 23, 2018 2:47 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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The Traansval
Powerbroker
 
Posts: 9122
Founded: Jun 26, 2016
New York Times Democracy

Postby The Traansval » Thu Mar 22, 2018 9:43 pm

Norfolk Naval Station Oceana, Virginia Beach.

"Now remember Billy, keep yer head down when the shootin' starts. Oh and when your ashore keep yer wits about yee, and don't go off with the first girl ya see! No telling what them girls are like"

"Not to mention what they got..."

"JAMES!"

Ensign William Butler looked down in pure embarrassment. He was the newest in a long line of men in the Butler family to enlist in the Navy. His father had gotten accepted into the Naval College at Norfolk and served as a Lieutenant on one of the NSN's Brigs. William, or Billy as everyone knew him, spent his whole life brought up to the expectation he'd follow his dads path, only to be crushed when he was rejected. But, he didn't give up, and decided to enlist as a Ensign. He'd spent a few months in training before getting his post; the NSS America, a Cutter, the Cutter that his great-great grandfather had commanded during the Chesapeake Campaign. The nation had been at peace for a while, the Cutter had spent the last few decades of its service on coastal patrol, and Billy was ready for it.

What he wasn't ready for, was a MP to come knocking on his families door, with news that he was to report the next day for a Extended Service. Navy speak for long ass travel.

"Ma, i'll be fine! Really, stop worrying about me."

His mother, Angela Butler, simply just kept looking at him. Part worried, part scared, all proud. His father, slack faced as always. He always said "A Naval Officer never smiles".

"Now Billy you know i'll never stop my worrying. But i am proud of you my boy"

Before he could answer, a shrill whistle echoed across the harbor. Anchored there, were five ships; Two Brigs, One Frigate named the Chesapeake, a Sloop named the Lorraine, and Billys post the America. All around him, Sailors before to migrate away to their ships. Men and Women alike said goodbye to their families and lovers, some said they'd return, some just said Goodbye. Billy's dad clapped him on his shoulder, looking straight into his eyes.

"Son. I fought the tribals on the rivers, I've fought countless battles and won almost all of them. They've pinned every medal imaginable to my chest. But you son, you and your peers will be travelling farther than citizen of Norfolk has in History. I can't tell you have proud i am" he said, standing to attention and giving his son a salute.

Billy saluted back, a tear almost coming to his eye before he remembered his ship, running off as his seabag bounced on his back. He ran up to the line at the gang plank, a officer at its top with a clipboard marking down the men as they came on. The line shuffled forward, and finally he was in front of the Officer, dressed in fine white silks and gold buttons.

"Name, Rank and Number"

"William Butler, Ensign, 04932113344"

"You assigned to Gun Crew 8, Top Deck. Your bunks are on E-4. Dismissed"

Butler saluted the man, running off to his bunks to meet the men of Gun Crew 8, the crew he'd be spending this entire voyage with.

Norfolk Naval Station Oceana, Virginia Beach.
Onboard the NSS Lorraine


The decks of the Lorraine were cluttered with men and women clad in the blue uniform and stark white caps of the Norfolk State Navy. They made their way to their posts and bunks, and soon enough the Green uniforms of the Norfolk Marines were onboard as well. All taking up their positions on the Lorraine. Norfolks Ship.

Her Ship.

Captain Alberta Joyce, commander of the Norfolk Service Ship Lorraine. The ship had Eighteen guns arranged on two decks; Sixteen down below on the Gundeck and two in the bow topdeck. She could make 15 knots in a good wind, and her crew was as green as the grass on the Capital lawn...

Still, that didn't shape the plucky young Captain. She was a year out of Norfolk Naval Academy, having earned her Commission as a Captain after serving under Admiral Barebank during the bombardment of Sandbridge in the Madhawk Campaign. Now she had her own ship, her own crew, her own command, and she sure as hell was going to do her job the best she could. Besides, she hoped she wouldn't have to see any combat on this voyage.

After all, this was not a Combat Expedition. It was a Voyage of Discovery.

Five Ships, all under the overall command of Admiral James Garfield, were to sail down the Atlantic Coast to make contact with other settlements, and possibly form allies. To their south, they had already made contact with the expansionist state in the Carolinas, and they were understandably worried about them. So, Norfolk needed new trade partners and allies, and so the ships would find them.

Flags went up from the Flagship; orders to sail out. Captain Joyce took the ships wheel in her hands, and bellowed;

"ALL HANDS TO STATIONS, SET SAIL FOR THE WORLD!"
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Greater Redosia
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Tyranny by Majority

Postby Greater Redosia » Fri Mar 23, 2018 1:12 pm

Hampton-Norfolk Bridge, Checkpoint Regulator side. Moments before the attack

The bridge checkpoint was much like the checkpoint on the I-95 though with a few more buildings to house more Regulators, the watchtower looming over the makeshift barricade that separated Hampton and the Bridge. In the tower three regulators were lounging about in the tower, the radio playing some old blues from before the war.

“Hey how do you think I should wear my hat, like this?” The Regulator tipped her hat to the left, “Or like this?” He fixed his hat back and tipped it back revealing more of her forehead and hair. The other regulator grabbed the hat and tipped it down over her face covering it. “Much better, I thought I was staring at a ghoul for a second.” The third regulator grumbled, he just so happened to be a ghoul working with the regulators to try and make a living. Though times were tough, the regulator fixed her hat and laughed. “Well at least I have taste in...mu...sic..” the regulators watched as a red glow slowly descended from the sky.

Then came a silence that last for eternity until the sound like thunder came towards the bridge, several Regulators rushed to the barricade and began to fire down it. The sounds of hunting rifles, pipe guns, and the cranking of laser muskets went out but I return were the same though globs of plasma came with it. In the tower two of the regulators were shooting down st the advancing enemies while the ghoul was working the radio. “This is radio tower Justice B-1, radio tower justice B-2 we need you to relay a message to further towers to Richmond, Williamsburg and West Point. We are currently under attack by a clearly superior force with advanced plasma weaponry, I repeat enemies with plasma weaponry!” There was static while gunfire was happening everywhere, the barricade near the tower was broken the regulstors being taking cover behind the makeshift buildings, but most retreating towards Hampton. The static was broken when a reply finally came, “We copy Justice B-1, we will relay this message to Richmond. Just hold out a bit longer boys, get out of there.”

After destroying the radio the three split apart when leaving the tower, the ghoul no longer knowing where he he thick of the fighting which came to hand to hand. Regulators with combat knifes fighting foes with similar weaponry and other mix and match of things, he thought he was going to make it until a shovel slammed into his face causing him to fall to the ground. He tried opened his eyes only to see a man descend upon him and just kept hacking and hacking, the ghoul was dead after several hacks from the mans shovel and he no longer had to feel the pain anymore.

The next day, West Point Regulator “The Bootcamp” HQ

Outside the large complex flying the flag of the Regulators several new recruits were trying to shoot bottles, the drill instructor annoyed when they only hit two out of the ten. “No no no! You aim down the sights with both eyes opened and if you feel the need for it crouch down to steady your aim so that you can hit the target! You’re lucky these bottles can shoot back because I bet it could shoot all of you in seconds!” The recruits sighed as they were then ordered to do laps around the entire complex once again, they were exhausted from the other several laps before and now they were here doing even more.

“So tell me, the bridge checkpoint was taken?” Asked the head of the West Point HQ

“Yes sir. The enemies had motars, flares, and plasma weaponry. It is obvious that Norfolk has finally decided to make a move, no other power in this region would have the capabilities of obtaining such weaponry across the bridge. We’ve also been getting check ins by Williamsburg HQ of Regulators fleeing the area, reporting that Regulators were taking positions in Hampton to prepare a defense.”

“And do we know how many of our men are in Hampton?”

“We believe we have in a range of 20 to 30 regulators sir, Williamsburg is asking for permission to transfer 60 Regulators from their position and to transfer at least 100 from ours. Though we may be able to direct patrols and raise that number to at least 135. Hampton needs all the support they could get, Richmond is already busting our balls with this and they want us to send support immediately.”

“Well approve the transfers and arm them with what we can, laser muskets, assault rifles, hunting rifles, and whatever explosives we can spare. We must prepare ourselves for the worse, if we were to be pushed out of Hampton it will show that we will be willing to fight for a town's independence. If we pull out it will make us look like cowards and I doubt our reputation would be able to hold such a thing. If they wish to have a war, then I'm willing to wage one."

"Understood sir, I will go right away" the secretary left the room in a hurry, the light bulb flickering in the hallway. The Head of the West Point HQ sighed and slumped back in his chair. Resting the day away.

Regulator Patrol, heading towards the Pentagon

"You know I've kept hearin' about these techno-dudes and always wondered, if you take off their helmet will they spit lasers or fire out of their eyes"

The Regulator next to him turned his head in confused, letting the other three get a bit farther ahead. "Neebs, the fuck kind of question is that? Like, dude I know you were dropped on your head as a kid and that you never really learned to read. But come on man even I know you wouldn't ask a question like that"

"No dude, think about it. Why do you think they wear those helmets all the time, we've watched them from far away with our binoculars they must be hiding something."

"Well Neebs, we are going to check them out right now. We goin' to see if they are friendly or not, also try not to call them techno-dudes they might get offended by that. Also keep that laser musket cranked and ready to fire if need be. Who knows what these guys could have when we meet them, they seem quite dangerous."

"Well we've patrolled through here before, just never really got too close till now sir. Things seem more peaceful around here too, so we are going to see I guess. I hope that I can talk to one with their helmet off, maybe they'll show me their laser eye shooting powers."

"Yeah yeah Neebs, whatever you say. Now come on, we gotta catch up with the others"

"Yes Sir Regulator Fairchild!" The two then began to run to catch up with the other three, not expecting what they were to find at the Pentagon.
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Puertollano
Minister
 
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Puertollano » Fri Mar 23, 2018 2:03 pm

The Glow
Children of Atom


Overhead, the brewing of a nuclear storm stirred. The cracking bolts came striking down,
never quite hitting the shacks and buildings built alongside the crater, this was part of the gift that the High Confesssor believed. The Children Of Atom were given protection from Atom’s glow, as no one in their right mind would travel to the impact zone of a nuclear detonation. It was truly a society that was isolated, but not unaware of the outside world. Several preachers often departed to spread the word, and would return with stories of the ‘unclean’, ‘heretic’ civilisation on the outside. The Gulf Commonwealth is often mentioned within discussion circles in the Glow, however mostly used as a buzz word. “I’m a Gulf-person,” a young kid would say, chasing another around with a wooden stick. “We’ll send you to the Gulf Commonwealth if you continue to do that!” A parent would casually threaten. High Confessor Wallace had a new strategy for the outside, the Gulf Commonwealth, Dixie Republic and the 2nd Louisianan Kingdom. Conversion. Dozens of additional preachers were sent to these settlements, with some “caps” to establish churches and prayer-centres. They evangelised the ideas of Atom, and told the Ghoul populations of the paradise that is the Glow. “The Glow is the safest place for Atom’s chosen ones: the Ghouls!” A preacher stood and announced. The High Confessor wasn’t sure as to how these settlements would react to the influx of missionaries, but he was hoping to convert some.

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The Traansval
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New York Times Democracy

Postby The Traansval » Fri Mar 23, 2018 2:07 pm

Hampton

Thump

Thump

Thump

Thump

"WOULD SOMEONE FIX THAT FUCKING WHEEL"

Corporal Tyler looked up in annoyance from his pondering. Tensions had been high since the battle for the bridge, many of them had not yet seen combat and that bloodbath sure wasn't a good introduction. Although, surely, there is no truly good introduction to war.

"I told you back at the bridge, Private, that i'll be able to fix the bloody wheel when Supply coughs one up! Until then, the wheel works perfectly fine!"

"It doesn't work Perfectly Fine you numbskull, the damn things lopsided! God what is that smell!"

The hardwooden boards of the cart were a long call from their cushy quarters back at the Norfolk Garrison. The horses smelled like shit and they made plenty of that. Someone said that the enemy could track us by the trail of horse droppings. Their food situation didn't help either; everyones rations were in their kits, which they didn't have. Orders from Command, GCA.

Guns, Clothes, Ammo.

Everything else was bag with the Brahmin trains, slowly making their way to catch up while the force moved ahead. Protecting the Brahmin trains was the 4th Infantry Regiment, which had been brought up from their detail on Norfolk city itself. They'd be reinforcing them once they took Hampton. They had already wasted time waiting for the rest of the Regiment to regroup, now they had to double time it to Hampton. Two entire Infantry Regiments, Four Hundred men, were moving in on the city. In addition, the marine complement of the NSS Virginia had been disembarked during the battle for the bridge, and was ordered to proceed on foot instead of embarking with the ship; Twenty-Four Norfolk Marines. They'd moved ahead of the Infantry, and they left their own trail. No shit though, just bodies.

A few grunts threw up over the side, the stench was horrid. Bodies of Regulators just strewn about on the pavement and road side; men and women who had attempted to flee, only to be cut down. They'd been looted and scavenged, troops picking up extra ammo or souvenirs. It was always the troops who'd been held back who did that, no one who actually fought seemed to have the stomach for it.

The Cart stopped; one of the horses was having a problem. Corporal Tyler looked over the side at one of the bodies, propped up on a stump. His eyes were glassy, his face a pale white with no expression. During the battle, Tylers mind was preoccupied. His enemy didn't matter, all that matter was that they wanted him dead, and that he needed to get them first. But now... Now he could see them.

The man was dressed in the clothes of a field hand, just like his pop back home on the Chesapeake Ranch. His head was matted like there used to be a hat there, obviously stolen. In his hand was a double barrel shotgun; pop had one like that for protection. On his hip was a brown back, overturned with its contents on the ground. Medical equipment; Stimpacks, various powders, and bandages. They'd killed a Medic in cold blood. Suddenly this man didn't seem so menacing, neither did the rest of them. So, why were they fighting them?

The cart started back up, and the dead medic went out of sight behind a broken tree. The horses were going double the speed now, racing towards that shining city on a hill.

Hampton.

Hampton, Two Hours later

Semper Fi, always fateful. Latin, old world. Motto of the American Marines, motto of the Norfolk Marines.

Hampton was surrounded, and Marine Captain Fredrick Drake could see that. The infantry had finally arrive, getting off their carts and joining the line. A makeshift trench had been formed, barely kneedeep and piled up with pieces of junk and debris. Mortar pits had been dug, and the few Marksmen had their positions. On the Hampton River, the NSS Virginia stood like a silent sentinel, menacing the city with its mere presence. Across from them, the Regulators had dug in. Drake couldn't tell how many, maybe a couple hundred? Some seemed off, like they'd just grabbed the first set of clothes and weapons they could find and headed to the line. He smirked, certainly no challenge for the soldiers of Norfolk, indeed. This rabble was all but done for.

There was the Colonel, Colonel Hamish. Commander of the Hampton Brigade, made up of the 2nd and 3rd Infantry Regiments, formed for a campaign into Hampton. The man was a drunkard and a veteran of the Madhawk Campaigns. His hands shook, visibly, and the man seemed to dread any choice. But he followed orders, and perhaps thats why the Brass put him in charge.

"Colonel, Sir! Our forces are in position, the Virginia is waiting for the signal to begin the bombardment."

The Colonel looked at the young Marine Captain. Barely Twenty, and yet his hands were caked with dried blood and his pistol unholstered. The Colonel nodded slowly, putting his hand up as if to signal "Wait a moment". He grabbed a megaphone from a pile of supplies he'd brought in his personal caravan, and jumped up on a set of boxes in the line. He brought the device up to his face, and spoke clearly to the combatants in Hampton.

"CITIZENS OF HAMPTON, AND MEN OF THE REGULATORS. YOU ARE DEFEATED! OUR FORCES OUTNUMBER AND OUTGUN YOU! OUR MIGHTY WARSHIPS SHALL REDUCE YOUR CITY TO RUBBLE AND OUR SOLDIERS SHALL DISPATCH ALL OF YOU WITH EASE IF YOU DO NOT HEAD MY WORDS! LAY DOWN YOUR ARMS, LAY THEM DOWN AND FLY A FLAG OF PEACE! LAY DOWN YOU ARMS, AND YOU SHALL BE TREATED WITH RESPECT, AND I SHALL PERSONALLY GUARANTEE YOUR LIVES. LAY DOWN YOUR ARMS, OR FACE DEATH ITSELF!"
Last edited by The Traansval on Sat Mar 24, 2018 1:38 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Greater Redosia
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Tyranny by Majority

Postby Greater Redosia » Fri Mar 23, 2018 2:35 pm

Hampton


*The town before the arrival of the State of Norfolk used to be one of peace and prosperity due to its position on the bridge which held profitable trade lines that made the city wealthy. Now it was completely isolated except for Regulators and the Hampton Town Militia, their numbers ranging in around 300 fighters with a mixed sort of weapons with pipe weapons showing its dominance in numbers over the others. On the wall the Captain of the Regulators in Hampton was on the wall with a spotter, the spotter's eyes glued to the binoculars.

"Sir they're telling us to surrender....aim a bit higher..anddd perfect right there. That should be a perfect position for a bullet straight to the head." The Captain looked at his spotter then looked back down the scope, "You think we will be able to survive this, most of these people have never really even seen combat. What are our chances to surviving now?" the spotter looked at his Captain with a disappointed look, "Come on sir, on the radio Williamsburg is going to be sending reinforcements, even some of the men up from West point. I'm sure once they arrive this battle will turn in our favor, now just little to the right and...TAKE THE SHOT NOW!"

The Captain pulled the trigger, feeling the recoil hit his arm from the hunting rifle as the .308 round left. He couldn't tell if the man's head exploded or it only sent him down, all he knew now was that gunfire was flying everywhere and he was forced down behind some sheet metal, hearing the bullets ping off it. The Militia and regulators firing whatever they could at the attackers, Regulators firing hunting rifles, laser muskets, assault rifles, and the militia firing off their pipe guns and pistols.

Off the coast of Rescue, Virginia

"So...What is our goal again?" one of the crew of the Law and Order asked the Captain

"Our goal is to go patrol the waters of the James River and make sure none of those bastards from Norfolk the bridge just southeast of here, if they do it will give them a direct line towards Richmond and it could cause us a whole heap of trouble that we don't already need." replied the Captain, "These bastards don't know the difference between a raider and those that keep the peace, I doubt we will see peace anytime soon. Though I have doubts that we will be able to hold them, they definitely seem to be much more properly equipped than us and have better tactics. All we do is go around and hunt those bastards down, which I believe once they reach the countryside they will begin to fear us Regulators and why you never mess with us."

The crewman looked at his mounted machine gun, it looked like a piece of junk that when you pull the trigger it will fall apart. Though when he fired it he was surprised it actually didn't, there were three others like it and if they met anything more properly armed they knew it wasn't going to end well for them. "Do you have a plan sir? If something goes wrong?" The Captain sighed and thought to himself, taking his sweet time "Well, I plan that we won't be too far from shore. We will most likely be able to swim to safety albeit getting small amounts of radiation in the process but a little fallout ain't gonna kill somebody. If it ain't gonna kill Norfolk it ain't gonna kill us.
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The Traansval
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New York Times Democracy

Postby The Traansval » Fri Mar 23, 2018 3:30 pm

Hampton

Bang

A single shot in the air. Dawn had risen hours ago, and its warm light bathed the land. Its rays passed down, seemingly to center on the dead body of Colonel Hamish. Everyone was shocked. Then Captain Drake fired a shot in the air, his face red with rage. He grabbed the flare pistol in the Colonels, and shot it into the air. A bright red flare.

"RETURN FIRE BOYS, SHOOT THE BASTARDS! NO MERCY, NO PRISONERS! HAMPTON SHALL BURN!"

Corporal Tyler couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the Colonel go down. And now he couldn't believe his eyes at what he saw next. A series of loud thuds were heard, before the fireworks started. The mortars; each Regiment had Sixteen of them, and together the Brigade had double that. All of them were firing now, dropping the small grenade like explosions on the enemy line. Pops of explosions scattering among their lines; alone each would be tiny, but together it was a wave of hellfire.

Then came the Virginia...

Its gun batteries opened up, 12 pounders firing their shells. Hitting buildings and fortification alike. The guns never stopped, they just kept firing. Some of the crew started to take potshots. Back on the line, the men were firing their weapons. Riflemen firing bursts and Machine gunners just spraying. Marksmen picking off anyone that looked to be of value or with a decent weapon.

The fighting seemed to last days to Tyler, but he knew in his head that it was just hours. The first row of mortars had run out, and now the last row was finish off its ammunition. The officers were getting the men ready; they had to start before the mortars stopped or the enemy would have time to regroup. The Virginia was still firing its barrage, and would only stop with a signal.

Tyler saw the captain mount a horse, a stark black one with a shiny coat. His hand had a flare gun while the other had the reins. He looked to the men around him, and shouted; "WELL BOYS, DO YOU WANT TO LIVE FOREVER!".

He blew his whistle, firing the flare into the sky as he jumped over the line, galloping ahead. The flare went up, bright white, and the guns on the Virginia fired its last barrage. But the men were already over their barricades, and moving forward. Running over flat ground towards them. Hundreds of men in green, blending in with each other and the grass under them, screaming a united battlecry of hatred.

Corporal Tyler felt his feet give out as he took cover behind a large piece of broken building. They'd reached the outskirts of the city, northing but torn up roads and a few shacks, and infront of them was the enemy line and the city itself. The mortars fired another volley, a couple shots landing a little too close for comfort, and then falling silent. Tyler peaked his head around the corner, only to have it almost get shot off his shoulders. He looked to his left and right, seeing his fellow soldiers rushing past him, towards the enemy line, firing bursts or chucking grenades.

His feet once more found purchase, and he set off running. Hopping from cover to cover, just trying to make it to their line. To punch through and end the fight. He jumped down in a small hole in the pavement, made by a mortar. Inside was a dead machine gunner, his gun still in his arms. Tyler snatched it up, unfolded its bipod and start to lay down a volley of machine gun fire on the enemy. They were no more than 100 feet away, and he swore he could see their eyes. But he wasn't alone, the rest of the Brigade was here, firing with him. One trooper rushed into his hole, threw a grenade, and then rush out to be cut down by a laser beam. But they were there, and they had reached the walls. Tyler saw his comrads jumping over the barricades of the Regulators, and fighting in close quarters with whatever they had; a Rifle, a pistol or their bloody Shovel. He saw his comrads fighting, and he had hope. Hope that this might work.

Hope that they would win, and that this would finally end.

Near the mouth of the Hampton River, a ways away from the Hampton-Norfolk Bridge

"Any sightings yet?"

"No sir."

Admiral Gamma grunted, his eyes on the horizon. A veteran naval commander, he was in charge of Norfolks Flag Ship, the NSS Norfolk. A steam paddleship, she had been renovacted just last year. She carried more guns than any other ship, and her steam engines allowed her great speed independent of the wind or currents. With these achievements you'd think the ship would be at the forefront of the assault, but instead the brass had relegated her to defending the flank. To make sure that the Regulators pesky ship didn't try anything. The Admiral grumbled when he heard this, but who was he to question the brass.
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Elerian
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Father Knows Best State

Postby Elerian » Fri Mar 23, 2018 8:41 pm

“All the darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of a single candle”
- St. Francis of Assisi

It was a unremarkable season in Orlando. Merchants ran their stores, fishers were out on the assorted lakes, farmers ran their co-ops, and there was little in the way of trouble. Orlando was a safe, stable little wasteland in so far as the Commonwealth was concerned. The townsfolk and farmers scattered across Orlando got along just fine, unified by their allegiance to the Commonwealth and glued together by the security that the Constitution provided. It certainly helped that the local raider population had been decimated through the combined efforts of the Army and local militias. It wasn't a particularly populous region, before the Great War Florida had been the most populated state in the South, but now it only held pockets of cloistered communities. Still, it was a nice place, the lack of residents meant it was relatively quiet but even still they managed to be quite prosperous. Not only were there a fair few productive farms, Caravans from far and wide frequently passed through Commonwealth territory, seeing as Florida was both stable and prosperous, bringing wealth and economic activity to the region. All said it was a good place for business.

There were communities in the wasteland with all manner of fortes, for the Commonwealth it was money. They had great wealth to their name, built off the backs of agriculture and trade, and there was little in the world that couldn't be bought for the right price. Of course, the Commonwealth never really ran into many particularly notable threats, they had garnered a great deal of credence among merchants and cap brokers both far and wide, and were known for offering a great deal of clemency even to those that would do them harm. There weren't many people with strong animosities against them. They were among the precious few who would treat with their partners as equals and freely offer aid to those who needed it most, which certainly didn't work towards fostering much hostility towards them. Theirs was a state that had been built through diplomacy and negotiation. The City States of the previous century had come together and agreed to create a unified people for the sake of mutual benefit, whereas so many empires in the wasteland had been forged through coercion and conquest. They were a relatively peaceful people, and their neighbors were often content to leave them in peace.

Like all communes, however, the Commonwealth had ambitions, things they strove hard to achieve. Chief among those goals was the spread of Democracy, and invariably Commonwealth influence throughout the wastes. Though, discourse was preferable to achieve this rather than war and destruction. The Commonwealth had been sowing the seeds of unification throughout the wastes for decades, making frequent attempts to assimilate neighboring communities and tribes. Even if their borders haven’t moved much since their unification, they had been able to expand their influence farther still. Accumulating rapport from neighboring communities and tribes, establishing reliable streams of revenue from levies gathered from surrounding towns. In exchange for the Commonwealth’s umbrella network of contacts and protection, they would pay but a small price. In effect this would create a mutually beneficial relationship. Some called it an organized racket, but the Commonwealth would call it Symbiosis, whatever that means. The re-establishment of pre-war Democratic ideals was the greatest motivation for the Commonwealth; and they worked hard, day and night, to make this goal realized by the wider wasteland.


* * *

Ashes Ashes, Part One


New Hope had to be the name of at least a dozen settlements in Post-War America, and probably scores of small collections of houses bore the name "New Hope". However, this New Hope was different. This was a settlement not too far from the old world city of Charleston, and this particular New Hope probably would have fallen into the sphere of influence of the large settlement. And that was precisely why the Westhill Wildmen had chosen to target the farming village that was hardly eking out its own living. The reconnaissance team that Wildmen had dispatched to go and watch the village had spotted no more than two score able-bodied men that would be able to effectively resist the Wildmen. It would piss of Charleston, remind them that the Westhill Wildmen aren’t to be trifled with, and provide more bodies for sale and entertainment.

The settlement of New Hope was based around several communal farming fields that were tended to by all of the families who would contribute what they could. At the time, a handful of men and women were out working on the field while two others stood guard. The settlement didn't really have a wall or proper defensive structures, however a few of the houses had makeshift roofs where a few men could stand watch without much realistic protection. As one man drove a Brahmin along the field, the rest of the farmers were busying themselves with planting seeds. Most of the farmers appeared probably much older than they really was; the farming life wasn't an easy one. The man behind the Brahmin was explaining to his son how you plow the field. His son couldn't have been any older than ten.

"Now, you see, how you have to drive the beast on like-" and that was the last thing that he would ever say. The crack of gunfire could be heard from a nearby hilltop that overlooked the settlement. The Wildman’s shot had hit its mark, caving in the back of the man's skull, and splattering blood, bone, and gore forwards into the field. A chorus of whooping and hollering cascaded over the settlement from the nearby hills as Wildmen poured out of their hiding places. They immediately went to work on the two guards, one of the raiders taking a bullet in the arm, but the guards being dispatched in short order. Soon, the raiders rolled across the settlement like locusts on an Egyptian harvest. As the raiders surged forth, pleas for mercy and cries of terror erupted collectively from the Farmers. Their pleas would go unheard, and their cries would be silenced in short order.

* * *

I slept, and dreamed that life was Beauty;
I woke, and found that life was Duty.
- Ellen Sturgis Hooper


James Caldwell had never been a talkative man, never one for easy courtesies and polite conversation. He said what he had to say, bluntly and honestly, but when he was done, he kept quiet. He didn't talk for the sake of talking, but Kersey never minded the silence between them. There was something comfortable, almost intimate about the evenings they oft spent together. They would often share dinner, talking about the matters of state, but as the evening grew longer and darker, the words became fewer, and they often spent hours just sitting together, sometimes over a glass of wine that James so rarely indulged in, but more often not.

James was staring into his empty glass, lost in his own thoughts, but Kersey's presence did not seem to bother him. Kersey took the opportunity to study his close friend, the features he’d come to know so well. Life had not been kind to James, he looked older than his thirty odd years. He had always been solemn and serious, even more so after his wife had died. Back then his face had been gaunt from fasting and grief, but now it was deeply lined with bitterness and worry, more so than any man his age. When Kersey had not known James so well, he had expected that the newly won Presidency would bring a smile to James’ face, light into his eyes. But power and influence had, if anything, been more cruel to him than obscurity: the weight of a nation made James feel as though he was suffocating at times, and his beloved friends years prior were now bitter rivals.

A blind man could see how much James hated his Presidency, the bureaucracy, the politicians, the schemers and flatterers, and Kersey couldn’t help but admire the determination with which James ignored his own desires and steadfastly did his duty to a nation who practically despised him. Kersey was sure that James secretly wished the opposition had won, despite the destruction they would have wrought. In the end choices were not really choices at all. A mirage at best. He had not been forced into office, but the notion that he might have shirked his duty was preposterous.

Suddenly he felt James looking at him, that piercing gaze out of eyes as deep and blue and intense as an ocean.

“It's growing late” James stated matter of factly.

That was his own peculiar way of telling Kersey it was time to retire for the night. But it was true, and James had a long day ahead of him. A nearby band of raiders had destroyed a settlement near Charleston. Fearing for their safety, Charleston had called upon the Commonwealth for protection. In the past, the proud Carolinians had refused Commonwealth protection, but now that they were in dire straights they were more ready to accept Commonwealth aid.

“So it is” Kersey said in reply. He stood and made his way to the door.

“May God be with you, friend” Kersey said in parting. James nodded several times, but made no reply. And with that, Kersey stepped out the door to return to his own apartments.
Last edited by Elerian on Fri Mar 23, 2018 8:50 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Fascist Republic Of Bermuda
Ambassador
 
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Founded: Apr 28, 2014
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Fascist Republic Of Bermuda » Fri Mar 23, 2018 9:45 pm

The Enclave
E Pluribus Unum
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Cannibal Johnson’s Good Eats, Springvale

“Praise the Lord, and pass the ammunition! Praise the Lord, we’re on a mighty mission! Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition, and we’ll stay freeeee!” The trio sang along with the radio, jeering. They were beyond giddy. They’d suffered, they’d marched, they’d bitched through basic training, but today was the day they were finally released from the little hellhole known as Camp Horrigan! And they celebrated by visiting the little concrete diner on the corner of an intersection. “No more of fuckin’ Sergeant Dornan!” Kelly York said cheerfully. “Aw, Kel,” Judy Young said, “You don’t like Sarg?” “Who does, Judy? Did you ever find one recruit besides you who liked Sarg Dornan?” Miranda Inouye teased lightly, drinking from her mug of coffee. Judy tried to sputter out a response. “You’re such a suck-up, you know that? Dornan yells at you just as much as the rest of us.” “You think he knows how to not yell, or you think his voice is just kinda stuck like that?” Kel asked. Miranda and Judy thought about it for a moment and shrugged.

“Talkin’ ‘bout ol’ Sarg?” Came a voice from the kitchen, the owner himself emerging, wiping his hands on a rag. Something of a living legend, and (perhaps) a bit of a nutter, “Cannibal” Johnson, after his squad’s Vertibird was downed, was said to have scared away a band of raiders by ripping the heart out of one and taking a bite of it. For his actions in saving his squad, he had been awarded the Distinguished Service Cross. “Fine man he is, but just about the meanest bastard I ever did see. I once saw him chewing out a private out of uniform. The most ear-blistering rant known to man, I tell you!” Cannibal Johnson chuckled. “Did you see what he did to Tommy Smith?” Miranda said. “How could I miss it? He was doing push-ups for… like a couple of hours,” Kel said, “Poor guy’s arms gave out, didn’t they?” “Medics had to put him on light duty,” Miranda agreed. “But you saw how he was acting!” Judy protested. “He put his rifle on the wrong shoulder, Judy, he didn’t exactly accidentally kill somebody like Warwick did.”

“But… whatever, you two are so unpatriotic, sometimes I wonder why I even hang out with you two!” Judy huffed, crossing her arms. “Aw, cheer up, have some bacon,” Cannibal Johnson pushed a plate closer to her, “At least you’re not sharin’ a sleepin’ bag with ‘em.” He grinned just slightly.

“Yet.”

The Pentagon, former Arlington

“You know, I don’t understand why they just can’t get the Reserve to hold the fort while we do the awesome shit,” Private John Morris said, sighing in his Advanced Power Armor Mark II. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because nobody’s doing awesome shit?” Private First Class Louis Morris said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Not that anybody could tell, but rolling them he was, “Ever since the honeymoon, you’ve done nothing but bitch. Hell, during the honeymoon-” “You didn’t tell me the hot tub was radioactive!” John interjected. “John, honey, name one functioning hot tub in the entire Enclave.” “Louis, you’re hopeless sometimes. But, still… c’mon, man, we’re the Big Red One, we should be… uh… I don’t know, killin’ raiders and takin’ names, not… standing on this wall waiting for our final rest in these damned walking sarcophagi.” “Would you prefer to be at Camp Horrigan?” “God, no, I don’t want to see Arch Dornan again for as long as I live. Still, you think maybe they’d want us to pat-” “Hold up, I’m seeing movement,” Louis interrupted, holding up a hand to shut John up, “Looks like… Wastelanders, on the horizon. Seem to be closing the distance.” “Ah, finally, some action!” “Easy with the big iron, Texas Red. We gotta report this to Sarge before anything else.” He tapped the side of his helmet. “This is PFC Morris, on the wall, facing south-east. I got movement. Looks like a group of… five, say again, five wastelanders, approaching the Pentagon, walking speed. Distance one klick and closing. Requesting advisory on further action. Out.” “Roger that, Louie,” Sarge’s voice crackled over the helmet radio, “Do not fire. Captain Autumn wants them not dead as long as possible. Observe, and report any changes. Over and out.”

“Gentlemen, remember: if any of you embarrass me or the Enclave, I will beat you harder than your fathers’ wildest nights. Do I make myself clear?” Captain Augustus Autumn, the young, brash commander of the Big Red One, said, power-armored helmet tucked under his arm. “Sir, yes, sir!” The four 1st Infantry soldiers said in unison, ensuring their weapons were loaded. Two had plasma rifles, one had a laser rifle with a grenade launcher slung over his back, while the final soldier hefted a gatling laser with the ease typical of powered armor soldiers. “Very well, let us move to meet these savages,” the young Autumn slipped his helmet on his head, the hiss of escaping air audible as the helmet created an airtight seal with the rest of the suit. The half-improvised “door” to the Pentagon, really little more than a large metal gate, pulled away, and the little expeditionary party marched out to meet the wastelanders.

“Attention, Wastelanders! By order of the United States Government, you are to halt immediately and put your weapons on the ground!” Autumn boomed, when the two parties were some fifty meters apart, voice amplified and slightly distorted by the power armor, “Any attempt at defiance will be dealt with harshly.”
N U T S !

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Arengin Union
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Left-Leaning College State

Postby Arengin Union » Sat Mar 24, 2018 1:37 am

Iwashi Slaver Plantation
Outskirts of Vault City, Maryland.


The bright sun shined on the vast fields of the Iwashi plantation, rows and rows of punga fruit crops filled with slaves carrying sacks and picking up the fruits one by one. It was a hot day, unusually hot, as the slaves did work and guards armed with a variety of weapons patrolled the camps and around the plantation's perimeter, some in horseback others on foot. It was like a scene from the 1850's, slaves getting whipped if they didn't work fast enough and the big mansion right at the center of it all. A medium size building at the left side of the plantation was also apparent, with the slaves carrying their filled sacks inside and coming out with the sacks empty and redoing the whole process.

The Iwashi plantation was more than a simple agricultural project, it was the biggest drug gen not only for Vault City but the whole lot of other settlements and states south of the Capital Wasteland. The land up north from Baltimore was plentiful and fertile despite the nuclear radiation and the punga fruit was of endless supply. For the Iwashi family this was easy good flowing business, not so much for the punga but for their own branded chem, Stuma!

Stuma was a magical delight for anyone consuming it, it made people see things, feel better about life, float away from it all. It truly was a chem that worked wonders like no other. The Iwashi family were the only ones with the recipe and they went through great lengths to keep it that way, sure maybe business was limited to a few states and settlements out of Maryland and Virginia, but it was still good business. Of course there were always them prying eyes wanting a piece of the cake, but the Iwahsi were fierce in their practices, they wouldn't allow such a profitable business to get off their hands when they control all of it. Why would they?

But that was not the concern of the slaves, slaves were slaves and nothing else. Clumps of flesh built to work and nothing else, here at the Iwashi plantation it was a usual routine to get new patches of slaves. Many died in the plantation due to exhaustion or excessive whipping, it was hell on earth. Barely any food or water, and anyone daring enough to talk back to one of the foremen's would get sent to the Box. A squared building where you'd get locked in for days in the dark, boiling hot or freezing cold for anyone inside.

Edwina, a female slave who had been brought in not so long ago had been recently taken out of the Box, she had been told to get back to work and had not slept or eaten anything for nearly 3 days. She tried her best to keep her eyes open as she picked one punga fruit after another, the minutes became longer and longer as her sweat covered body couldn't hold it anymore. Her lips were dried and her entire body was sore, not sore like a simple body ache, but her entire body felt like someone had taken a hammer and hit every single bone of hers until they shattered. Edwina wanted to go home, home to her momma and brother back in Massachusetts, she had been kidnapped from her home and taken her, taken to work like a slave and die like a slave. Meant to be forgotten and squeezed until she couldn't work anymore. She preferred death over this, she couldn't take it anymore.

The girl fell flat on the ground, dropping every fruit in her sack, everyone looked in her direction with confusion as a guard quickly began making way to the exhausted girl. Whip in hand and walking fast the guard simply known as "Foster" yelled at the onlooking slaves to get back to work as he angrily walked towards Edwina. Foster was one of the many combat armor wearing assholes that patrolled the plantation and acted as work enforcers, he was one of the particular work enforcers that carried a simply knife, pistol and a whip. One could guess what the latter was for.

"Get up." He said, taping the girl's head with his boot.

Edwina simply moved her eyes to see the man, his silhouette covering the hot sun. She couldn't speak anymore, that itself caused her to feel endless pain, she could only whimper.

"I SAID GET UP!" Foster yelled, this time kicking at the girls stomach. Edwina began shedding tears, tears that echoed pain yet also a feeling of pleasure knowing she would soon die and leave this cruel world.

"I SAID GET THE FUCK UP!" Foster had had enough as he raised his hand with the whip and began hitting the girl with it. One whip after another he kept hitting her back, slashes and gashes were seen on her back. Blood dripping from the wounds as she simply kept still on the floor with no effort to try to get back up.

"USELESS PIECE OF SHIT! GET THE FUCK UP!" Foster yelled again, making his strikes more intense, the people around could do nothing but watch, all except one.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH! IM'M GON TEACH YA!" Foster readied his whip for another series of whips.

"THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU BECOME A USELESS P-" The man was interrupted by someone grabbing onto his hand, a firm grip on the guards hand that didn't allow him to continue his inhumane act, the guard looked behind him to see who had dared to stop him. He didn't even manage to look at the man before he was punched right in the nose and plummet to the ground, nose bleeding and the whip no longer in hand as he hold onto his broken nose.

The man who had stopped it all stood in front of the shocked guard, this was not a slave who was docile and fearful like the others, this one had the spirit of freedom inside of him as he stood valiantly and straight in front of the guard. His name, John Glass. John wore the typical drags of a common slave, but he carried himself as a man that would not be put down simply by the clothes he wore or the work he was forced to do, he was a free man, not a slave.

The whip was now in his hands, John simply looked at it for a few seconds before he finally dropped it on the ground.

"If you're gonna strike at someone. Do it on someone who will hit back..." He said with conviction.

Foster got up, anger and hatred in his eyes as he let go of his blood covered face and with fury in his voiced said.

"OHHHH YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD! FUCKING DEAD!" The guard took out a knife from his belt sheath and began to slash at John's direction. John stepped back, fists up as he took caution in his opponent's weapons.

As the two men were about to make their first moves a gunshot was heard from the far end of the field. A foremen in horse along with guards in combat armor and armed with assault rifles surrounded John, he simply kept silent and straight despite the guns aimed at his head.

The foreman got off his horse, holstering the revolver he had used to quell the impeding fight. He wore the typical trench coat and vest along with hat that all foremen around the plantation used as their standard outfit to separate them from the lowly guards.

"What the hell is the issue here Foster?!" He said with annoyance.

"This shit slave punched me in the face Sir! And this bitch one is dead on the ground!" Foster said while now trying to keep his nose from bleeding.

The Foreman, who's name was Ed, simply looked at Edwina. She was still on the ground and it was obvious she was still alive and in her last breaths. Ed simply pulled out his revolver once again, aimed it at the girl and fired. Putting her out of her misery once and for all.

"Learn how to deal with a dead slave walking and quit the torture fetish Foster before I fucking kill you myself!" Ed said at Foster with anger. He then brushed the guard's hands off his own nose and examined it, Foster groaning with pain.

"He got you good. You'll live though. Get back to the lab and get fixed up." Ed said, cleaning the blood off his hands and then looking back at John, still standing in defiance.

"You got a habit of being a trouble maker. I for one don't like Foster as much as the next guy, and I appreciate you making us the favor." Ed approached John, signalling the guards around them to lower their weapons.

"You're kind of a stand up guy you know. Ever been told that?" Ed said as he set his hand on John's shoulder, John simply looked at Ed's hand and then back at him.

"No..." He answered.

"Well you are. And as much as I like stand up guys..." Ed then out of nowhere gut punched John, a strong punch that sent the slave to go down into the ground in pain.

"But rules are rules..." Ed said. John looked up at him, red bloodshot eyes of pain holding back tears of pain.

Ed then shrugged, he made his way back to his horse. "Put em in the Box. A week. Let's see if he learns." Ed then mounted and went on his way as John was then dragged by two guards. This would not be a good day for him.
"I do as I please"
-King Abraham Markev final words before jumping into a cage to fight a lion.

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New Minahasa
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Founded: Sep 05, 2016
Ex-Nation

Postby New Minahasa » Sat Mar 24, 2018 3:21 am

Borders of the Republic of Washington
Tupelo, Northern Mississipi

A camp was set up right outside a town located on the fringe borders of the Republic of Washington with its flag flying high above the tallest building. In the middle of the camp appeared to be soldiers of the republic, or at least what were. They were caught patrolling the borders by the massive raider warband. The corpses of five to ten men were already beginning to rot; their weapons, dog tags, and insignias signifying their allegiance stripped off of them. A raider of the 88th would always gather any identifications of their slain enemies, mostly dog tags and insignias and sometimes their heads as a way to showcase their proficiency in murder. A head would be much less common, taken only when the head identified someone important or famous; usually the higher ranking officers of an army, or other infamous raiders. Some would even go as far as to risk themselves in someone else's battle just to loot any dog tags or insignias left behind on the corpses. A raider could challenge another for possession of their own dog tags, be it to death or until the losing side surrendered.

Lately, the raiders had been trying their best to incorporate a more diplomatic approach, offering "protection" in exchange for tributes to the people of the wasteland instead of outright killing them. They learned that a living and productive prey yielded more wealth than a dead one. Unfortunately for them, in this case, they were too late. The town was already claimed by yet another nation-state claiming to be the successor of America. Their whole cities were crowded with democrat pigs and lesser races. Even worse, ghouls and other dirty mutants were reportedly active amongst them. Pests like these were only appropriate to be exterminated, or if they were lucky enough, enslaved.

This one town appeared to be properly fortified, three to four meter walls of scrap metal erected with armed guards active patrolling. They've spent almost an hour scouting this whole place in hopes of finding a flaw in their defences, but there were none. A female raider, known only as "Angel" due to her disfigured face, was the acting leader of the warband. Their previous one overdosed in the middle of their journey, and the whole group almost broke off entirely, but was luckily reformed again under Angel's cruel leadership. Suspected secessionists were dealt with brutally, being beaten to near death by their own comrades and then put under enslavement. This act of cruelty secured her position within the warband, and no one ever dared to speak against her and her followers.

The camp was full of clamor as raiders prepared themselves for battle. Scouts of the warband had just arrived as well after another quick surveillance of the settlement. "Warrior, report!" Angel barked at one of the scouts. "We counted twenty five men on the walls, ma'am. Just a regular militia by the looks of it. Those fuckers don't have much in terms of equipment, too. We saw nine and ten milimeter SMGs, some single shotguns, some cowboy repeaters, and about two or three hunting rifles." The scout reported. "Any holes in their defences? A blind spot, somewhere unguarded? Loose scraps here and there?" Angel asked. "Nothing we could find. Fucking place's packed tighter than a nun's pus-" The scout was cut off by another raider. "Angel, the boys are ready. We're waiting for your order." The raider spoke, Angel dismissing the scout with a slight nod.

"Miller, grab some capable men with you. These unreliable fucking dumbwits we call scouts couldn't locate any holes in their defences, so we'll have to work with luring the defenders out. You and your men will do that." Angel said with her back turned, seemingly gathering and preparing her own equipment. "Right on." He replied and dismissed himself. Miller rounded up a dozen men with him and made their way over to the settlement. They ducked and snuck as soon as they reached about two hundred meters to the closest guard, guns clutched in their hands. About a hundred meters in and they stopped behind cover. "So here's the plan. Me, Barnes, and Ramsay's gonna run to the gate and act like we're being chased. While they're coming out to deal with us, you lads find a good spot and take your aim. Whenever you're ready, blast at em, aight?"

Miller and the two raiders made their way over to the entrance, running as fast as they can. The guards in charge of the entrance raised their guns at them and yelled. "Wow, wow, wow, not so fast, fellers! What the fuck are you guys doing here?" One of the guards yelled. "We got chased by some raiders, man! You gotta help us! H- here, we'll even give you some caps to let us in, too!" Miller dropped a small sack full of chips in front of him. "Yeah, OK! Drop your guns first and we'll see about getting you inside, OK?" Miller knelt and placed his .357 on the dirt, the two raiders behind him followed suit. Two of the guards stepped out of the gate covered by another two on the walls, still having their guns raised. "Hands on your head! Any funny shit and we won't hesitate to blow your heads off!" The raiders did what was told.

The guards secured their weapons first and went to pat the three down for any hidden guns. "Shit, you guys look crappy as hell. Y'all them Nazi guys or whatever, right? Saw your tattoos right quick. Yeah, see, we ARE gonna take y'all inside, but y'all ain't exactly gonna have a warm welcome. Y'know you guys have bounties on your heads, ri-" A bullet was planted in his head, followed by another into his friend's. The guards were shocked. Potshots came from all angles, giving Miller and his two boys enough time to retake their guns and jump for cover. "BARRY, NO!" A shout emerged from over the wall. Shots were being exchanged for a shortwhile, before even more guards arrived.

"That's enough, boys! Pull back! Pull back!" Miller shouted. Bullets stopped flying for a couple seconds before dozens of men sallied out of the entrance. Miller and his boys retreated, jumping over obstacles and taking cover every few seconds. The town militia was seemingly enraged at this act. The guard, or Barry as he was called, was supposedly the captain of the guards. His men were frenzied, seeing their own leader dead in front of them. The men yelled, cursed, and shot at his murderers.
Last edited by New Minahasa on Sun Mar 25, 2018 2:34 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Greater Redosia
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Founded: Aug 01, 2016
Tyranny by Majority

Postby Greater Redosia » Sat Mar 24, 2018 7:37 am

Regulator Hunters, Forward Scouting Party outside Hampton

The group of five were galloping along on their horses, their task was to see the current situation happening at the settlement of Hampton and to give feedback to the reinforcing group that was heading to relieve them. The group of five all had hunting rifles with scopes but one also had a grenade rifle they managed to plunder off some dead raider's body quiet some time ago, still worked perfectly fine...most of the time. They were happily chatting to each other before they were in sight of Hampton ,"And then I said, 'Hey fella, you better leave that fine young lady alone before I shove this rifle up your ass and send a .308 round somewhere it definitely shouldn't be." the others looked un-impressed one of them got closer, "You mean that when you squished the world's smallest rad-roach and saved our ears from my sister's screaming, she threw her arms around you she was so scared of the damn thing." the other three chuckled and all of them stopped when they were able to see what was happening.

The town was a complete bloodbath, unorganized fighting everywhere as regulators and citizens were fighting off the men of Norfolk. One of the Regulator Hunters swore he saw someone with a butter knife as a weapon and managed to stab one of the other's eyes out, the Hunter Captain ordered one of his men to go back to the main force and report all findings to them. "Sir, what are 'we' supposed to do. We are only a scouting party.." The Captain was looking back at the Norfolk army through the binoculars, a concerned look on his face. "Well hopefully soon the rest of us will arrive and we'll give these evil bastards one hell of a time, doubt they would expect something like this when all they think of us are some lowly gang. We'll show them, I also want you to ready your grenade rifle when we arrive, we need to do a lot of killin'."

Regulator Patrol, The Pentagon

The group was walking and talking among each other, they weren't honestly expecting the arrival of anyone soon so they were taking their marry time. "So now guys remember, when we meet these dudes we should try and be friendly with them. For all we know all these reports about walking metal robot people and flying metal birds could just be Larry once again fucking up the reports. They could just be a bunch of poor settlers trying to get by out in the wasteland, it shouldn't and can't be that damn hard to understand the difference or to not fuck up the reports. We seriously need to teach Larry a lesson when we get back about changing the reports and shit, we lost a many good men to those damn reports."

They continued walking until they could actually see an opposite party coming towards them, the two continued to walk towards each other until the loud boom of the order made by the man in the metal suit was given. Regulator Captain Fairchild looked at them for a moment and turned to his men, "Metal robot people?" "Check" "Giant laser weapons that are most definitely capable of killing us?" "double check sir" "Oh ain't that wonderful, alright boys. All we gotta do is gently put down our weapons, come on." The group begin slowly dropping their weapons onto the ground, a scoped hunting rifle, a laser musket, and two pipe-guns laid on the ground. Fairchild with Neebs tightly hugging his arm behind him slowly moved in front of the others. "Now now, we don't want no trouble now. We aren't here to cause you any harm for now that we see our reports have been true we definitely don't want to do such things, now how about we get on some more even footing and try to calm things down. My name is Regulator Captain Fairchild and this man who's hugging my arm tighter than a rad-scorpion on buffout is Regulator Neebs."

"S-See! They do have helmets with glowing eyes! They must wear it to stop themselves from shooting laser out of them!" Fairchild sighed, "Please don't mind Neebs, he wasn't...the brightest one in the bunch but he was a damn good shot and would follow orders. Now may I humbly ask you who you are and what you plan on doing with us? What about all this Uni-ted States and about all that fancy techno-stuff."

Richmond Regulator Main HQ

The entire building was in chaos, men running back and forth with papers in their hands and arms and several regulators typing away on terminals. Head Regulator Garner was walking in between the rows with several men and women quickly walking around him to get where they needed to go, he looked around and stopped right where he was. "Now I know that we are having trouble over at Hampton but we shouldn't need to worry about anything, they have no chance to possibly even think of taking the settlement especially when reinforcements from Williamsburg and West Point are heading south to there. But I am also happy to see that hard work you are all doing so I hope you can keep this up."

After making that small speech he returned to the council room and sat down, removing one of the chess pieces near Hampton and replacing it with a new one of a different color. "So you wish to encroach upon our territory huh, well I'll have you know that us Regulators are not known for going down easily. We will push you back, not now, but sooner or later. Especially not when I'm in charge."
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The Manticoran Empire
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Posts: 9160
Founded: Aug 21, 2015
Corporate Bordello

Postby The Manticoran Empire » Sat Mar 24, 2018 10:32 am

New Minahasa wrote:Borders of the Republic of Washington
Tupelo, Northern Mississipi

A camp was set up right outside a town located on the fringe borders of the Republic of Washington with its flag flying high above the tallest building. In the middle of the camp appeared to be soldiers of the republic, or at least what were. They were caught patrolling the borders by the massive raider warband. The corpses of five to ten men were already beginning to rot; their weapons, dog tags, and insignias signifying their allegiance stripped off of them. A raider of the 88th would always gather any identifications of their slain enemies, mostly dog tags and insignias and sometimes their heads as a way to showcase their proficiency in murder. A head would be much less common, taken only when the head identified someone important or famous; usually the higher ranking officers of an army, or other infamous raiders. Some would even go as far as to risk themselves in someone else's battle just to loot any dog tags or insignias left behind on the corpses. A raider could challenge another for possession of their own dog tags, be it to death or until the losing side surrendered.

Lately, the raiders had been trying their best to incorporate a more diplomatic approach, offering "protection" in exchange for tributes to the people of the wasteland instead of outright killing them. They learned that a living and productive prey yielded more wealth than a dead one. Unfortunately for them, in this case, they were too late. The town was already claimed by yet another nation-state claiming to be the successor of America. Their whole cities were crowded with democrat pigs and lesser races. Even worse, ghouls and other dirty mutants were reportedly active amongst them. Pests like these were only appropriate to be exterminated, or if they were lucky enough, enslaved.

This one town appeared to be properly fortified, three to four meter walls of scrap metal erected with armed guards active patrolling. They've spent almost an hour scouting this whole place in hopes of finding a flaw in their defences, but there were none. A female raider, known only as "Angel" due to her disfigured face, was the acting leader of the warband. Their previous one overdosed in the middle of their journey, and the whole group almost broke off entirely, but was luckily reformed again under Angel's cruel leadership. Suspected secessionists were dealt with brutally, being beaten to near death by their own comrades and then put under enslavement. This act of cruelty secured her position within the warband, and no one ever dared to speak against her and her followers.

The camp was full of clamor as raiders prepared themselves for battle. Scouts of the warband had just arrived as well after another quick surveillance of the settlement. "Warrior, report!" Angel barked at one of the scouts. "We counted twenty five men on the walls, ma'am. Just a regular militia by the looks of it. Those fuckers don't have much in terms of equipment, too. We saw nine and ten milimeter SMGs, some single shotguns, some cowboy repeaters, and about two or three hunting rifles." The scout reported. "Any holes in their defences? A blind spot, somewhere unguarded? Loose scraps here and there?" Angel asked. "Nothing we could find. Fucking place's packed tighter than a nun's pus-" The scout was cut off by another raider. "Angel, the boys are ready. We're waiting for your order." The raider spoke, Angel dismissing the scout with a slight nod.

"Miller, grab some capable men with you. These unreliable fucking dumbwits we call scouts couldn't locate any holes in their defences, so we'll have to work with luring the defenders out. You and your men will do that." Angel said with her back turned, seemingly gathering and preparing her own equipment. "Right on." He replied and dismissed himself. Miller rounded up a dozen men with him and made their way over to the settlement. They ducked and snuck as soon as they reached about two hundred meters to the closest guard, guns clutched in their hands. About a hundred meters in and they stopped behind cover. "So here's the plan. Me, Barnes, and Ramsay's gonna run to the gate and act like we're being chased. While they're coming out to deal with us, you lads find a good spot and take your aim. Whenever you're ready, blast at em, aight?"

Miller and the two raiders made their way over to the entrance, running as fast as they can. The guards in charge of the entrance raised their guns at them and yelled. "Wow, wow, wow, not so fast, fellers! What the fuck are you guys doing here?" One of the guards yelled. "We got chased by some raiders, man! You gotta help us! H- here, we'll even give you some caps to let us in, too!" Miller dropped a small sack full of chips in front of him. "Yeah, OK! Drop your guns first and we'll see about getting you inside, OK?" Miller knelt and placed his .357 on the dirt, the two raiders behind him followed suit. Two of the guards stepped out of the gate covered by another two on the walls, still having their guns raised. "Hands on your head! Any funny shit and we won't hesitate to blow your heads off!" The raiders did what was told.

The guards secured their weapons first and went to pat the three down for any hidden guns. "Shit, you guys look crappy as hell. Y'all them Nazi guys or whatever, right? Saw your tattoos right quick. Yeah, see, we ARE gonna take y'all inside, but y'all ain't exactly gonna have a warm welcome. Y'know you guys have bounties on your heads, ri-" A bullet was planted in his head, followed by another into his friend's. The guards were shocked. Potshots came from all angles, giving Miller and his two boys enough time to retake their guns and jump for cover. "BARRY, NO!" A shout emerged from over the wall. Shots were being exchanged for a shortwhile, before even more guards arrived.

"That's enough, boys! Pull back! Pull back!" Miller shouted. Bullets stopped flying for a couple seconds before dozens of men sallied out of the entrance. Miller and his boys retreated, jumping over obstacles and taking cover every few seconds. The town militia was seemingly enraged at this act. The guard, or Barry as he was called, was supposedly the captain of the guards. His men were frenzied, seeing their own leader dead in front of them. The men yelled, cursed, and shot at his murderers.

The raiders had gunned down two members of the Militia. 58 were left. Howard Osbon, a First Sergeant if this particular unit was ever called up, sent two runners to gather the men of the town. The boys ran from the wall to a church bell tower and the bell began to toll. From the homes and businesses, the townsfolk knew what was happening. The women drew the children and the elderly towards the town's center, a heavily fortified position built to allow a minimum number of personnel to defend against any force of raiders that assaulted it. The men gathered their own arms, pipe guns, shotguns, even some surplus militia rifles, and ran for the walls. The militia already on the wall were returning fire with their machine guns, mounted on the walls and facing outwards. Other members of the militia and the townsfolk that reinforced them took potshots at the attacking raiders. The militia were armed and disciplined, equipped with 7.62mm M1A1 rifles and crewing 12.7mm emplaced machine guns. The townsfolk were armed more randomly, with pipe rifles, shotguns, and combat rifles. Some even had surplus M1A1s. There were about 400 of these men rushing to the walls from wherever their homes were.

It was clear to Osbon that these raiders were different. They were being clever and attempting to force his men to leave the wall. "Don't leave your positions, lad. Shoot for their chests! Shoot for their chests. Make sure that they drop before you move on." The militia fired disciplined shots, carefully aiming before squeezing the trigger, gently. The townsfolk were less careful, firing rapidly. It wasn't too problematic. The .38 and .45 caliber rounds that the townsfolk fired were easy enough to replace and the town armories had thousands of rounds. It was the 7.62mm rounds for the M1s and the 12.7mm rounds for the machine guns that were less plentiful. Osbon looked at the sun. Midday. His town was supposed to receive a section of regulars tomorrow around midday for week of drills. All they had to do was hold until then.
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The Traansval
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Founded: Jun 26, 2016
New York Times Democracy

Postby The Traansval » Sat Mar 24, 2018 11:43 am

Hampton

"KEEP PUSHING MEN, DON'T LET THEM REGROUP!"

The Captain was still fighting, although his horse had been shot out from under him. Corporal Tyler watched the man, pistol in hand, as he lead the troops forward. They'd broken through the Regulators line, and now they were in the city. It was a total shit show, with Norfolk Soldiers moving in platoons throughout the city streets, fighting the Regulators where they saw them. This was Urban Warfare, fighting from street to street, building to building, house to house, living room to living room. Everyone was tense as they checked every window and alley to make sure there wasn't a Regulator hiding, waiting to strike.

They were everywhere. A Regulator might pop out of a window to throw a stick of dynamite or a grenade. Or a sniper would start picking off men from a church stepple. Tyler moved slowly, moving from cover to cover to try not to get shot. In front of him was a four story building, and on its roof was a squad of regulators. His platoon leader, Lieutenant Franks, was leading them slowly towards it. The Lieutenant was a good man, who seemed to have been on the radio for the past hour trying to see if the regiment from the brigade had gotten here yet. Now he was leading them forward, into battle.

The door was unlocked, and they moved in slowly. Up the stairs, each step almost silent. Their hands gripped their rifles so tightly their knuckles were a bright white. Then came the roof access. They moved the door slightly, and through the crack Tyler could see them. Six at least, on the roof, one had binoculars and was trying to stop any Norfolk Soldier, the rest had either rifles or some type of explosive.

The Lieutenant called for everyones grenades. They passed em up, atleast a dozen or so little grenades. He put them all in his Ration Pouch, tied the pins together, and then pulled them all at once, tossing the bag out onto the roof. The Regulators were startled, and then the bag went off. Tylers platoon rushed in, and shot any survivors as they lay on the floor, body parts and limps blown off. There was a sort of silence afterwards, as they watched the town below them. On every street, regulators and Norfolk soldiers could be seen fighting. Flashes of gunfire and explosions of grenades lighting up the city.

Richmond, Virginia.
Onboard the NSS Antelope


Up the river they had gone. Four Ships, the two sloops of the Antelope and the Matila, along with the NSS Hayes and Portsmouth Brigs. They guns shined in the sunlight as they went up the James River. Up and up, the river took them deeper and deeper into Virginia. Until finally they were there, right in the heard of Regulator Territory. Their capital, of Richmond.

Sergeant Anthony of the Norfolk Marines, one of the Antelopes Compliment, watched as the ships all fired their guns into the air. They had no shells loaded, just a lot of smoke and thunder to get the locals attention. When one of those Regulators decided to come out, Anthony watched as some Norfolk officer all dressed to the nines stepped up into the ships bow, taking a megaphone with him.

"I AM A REPRESENTATIVE OF THE HONORABLE STATE OF NORFOLK. I WISH TO SPEAK TO THE LEADERS OF THE REGULATORS, TO NEGOTIATE PEACE!"
Last edited by The Traansval on Sat Mar 24, 2018 1:36 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Greater Redosia
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Founded: Aug 01, 2016
Tyranny by Majority

Postby Greater Redosia » Sat Mar 24, 2018 12:25 pm

Richmond, Virginia

The Council Members grouped together as they made their way to where they could see the ships of Norfolk, Garner grabbed his own megaphone. "So! You want to negotiate huh! Well here is what I propose to you ruthless, murderin', expanding bastards for I am a man who doesn't want conflict in this here region! You shall pull back out of Hampton and instead negotiate with them, if they want to join you then woohoo you got yourself some god damn land! Another thing, the Checkpoint which you so self-riotously attacked was one of ours! So I expect that it will be returned spick and span with a fresh new coat of paint on those walls! So unless you have something to come back with I expect that these terms are final and that are fair for everyone!" Garner set the megaphone down, Lawrence approached to stand next to him, "You do know that they are definitely not going to accept those terms, they are completely one sided and will definitely prolong this conflict." Garner turned to face his fellow Council Member "I know Lawrence, but if we show weakness they are going to keep pushing us. So we must make sure we push back to show that we actually mean business, so that if they want to mess with us again it's gonna cost them greatly."

Hampton

BANG another Norfolk soldier down, the Captain was laughing as he kept loading each new magazine into his hunting rifle. "YOU GOTTA DO BETTER THAN THAT YOU BASTARDS! YOU AREN'T GONNA TAKE THIS GENERAL STORE!" He heard the explosion and looked over at where he ordered a squad to set up a sniping position, limbs were falling and the rest of the survivors were gunned down.

"Damn bastards, you aren't going to take this settlement so damn easily" he heard troubles downstairs as his men were trying to keep the front door closed and blocked, then came an explosion and several shots ringing out. The Captain dived over and pulled the ladder up into the attic with him and quietly set the trapdoor down, the room below him he could hear the Norfolk Soldiers walking around to clear it out. He pulled himself over quietly to the window and looked out at the street of chaos, he saw that regulators and citizens were fighting off the Norfolk but with extreme casualties. He saw a Hampton citizen gun down a couple Norfolk with a double barrel shotgun before being taken down once he tried to pull the trigger a third time.

The Captain looked off at the main road and smiled at what he saw, men on horses and several more on foot. "Looks like the first batch of reinforcements arrived, Williamsburg was it? Not that far away just up the road...damn it boys hurry the hell up won't you..."

Outside Hampton, I-64

Captain Kennedy looked at the settlement through binoculars, seeing the carnage going on inside it, he passed them back to the other Regulator and walked forward. "Alright men, there are only sixty of us. So we gotta go in hard and fast, so i'm sending you five Hunters to go deal with those mortars in them pits over there. We will go into the settlement, and catch those bastards by surprise." The Hunters nodded and road off, once they were close enough they fired guns at the mortar teams. Dismounting their horses after a bit and took cover behind the remains of what could of been a building.

Meanwhile the other fifty-five regulators quickly ran down in to support the town, taking caution when entering it as to not get gunned down immediately. It was still chaos and hard to understand friend from foe but the newly arrived forces engaged in the heated battle either way, it wouldn't be enough to turn the tides but it would be enough to possibly prolong the battle until reinforcements from West Point arrived and those troops were better equipped than the force currently joining the fight in Hampton.
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Zepplien
Negotiator
 
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Founded: Oct 10, 2010
Father Knows Best State

Postby Zepplien » Sat Mar 24, 2018 1:43 pm

Sabrina Iwashi, Baltimore Demilitarized Zone
"I've got spurs that jingle jangle jingle! Jingle Jangle!" Sabrina sung along to the music on her pip boy, her musical enjoyment only broken by the screaming outside her helmet. She sighed, flicking a switch on her pip boy "If you actually answered my questions I wouldn't have to break your arms." she tried her best to explain things to the wastelander who howled in pain, seeming not to hear her. She couldn't help but sigh as she pushed her bloodied assaultron aside, and picked the woman up by the throat "Where is my money? If you do not tell me I am going to crush your windpipe until you die." Sabrina had to question this wastelander not willing the caps that so clearly now belonged to a superior person, willing to even give their own life over it? She watched the woman's terrified eyes from behind her powered armour helmet, not feeling the weakness of pity for others.

"Stop please!" The highpitched voice broke through the choked gasp, Sabrina letting the wastelander in her hand hit the floor as she turned to face this new threat. She let out a little chuckle "Ah, your offspring, that is what you were trying to protect, not your money. That is a shame, you place another's life above your own." she raised a power armoured boot and crushed the woman's head promoting a tearful screech from the offspring. Sabrina stepped forward, grabbing the girl around the stomach and effortlessly hauling her under an arm. "Ransack the place!" she demanded of her robots, letting the girl watch as her home was destroyed for a few hundred caps worth of plunder added to a sack tied around a protectron. "Come now, with slave and plunder we return to repay our debts!" looking down at the sobbing girl under her arm "I am going to break your ribs if you don't quiet down and let me listen to my radio." letting the hydraulics of her arm tighten around the girl in threat for a few seconds to quiet her down.

Iwashi Slaver Plantation
The gates of the plantation swung open, attendants moving swiftly to take the girl that Sabrina still held. "Get it water and a hot meal, it is more valuable that way." even as she walked forward 'trusted' servants cleaned the blood off her powered armour while giving it a smart polish. From inside the house came the honored Kevin Iwashi, and Vanessa Iwashi, slave bosses cracking the whip to insure that worked stopped so that proper reverence could be paid to their masters. "Mr. Iwashi, I have brought you a fresh slave whose will can be easily broken, and loot from the Demilitarized zone. While nothing spe-" she stopped as the man raised his hand, a servant bringing over a pip pad for him to look over. "Your debts are extensive, from your time in early stages of development when I provided all expenses for you. Such debts must be paid." the girl, even in power armour seemed to shrink at the idea of that. "I will give you two hundred for the slave." "Two hundred!?" Sabrina was almost indignant, that was a pathetically low price for a slave of such age. Mr. Iwashi's grin matched his offspring's anger "Of course, the rest will already be taken out for the expenses you have accrued, my servants polished your armour, cleaned you up, that is a 50 cap charge. You ordered water and meal for the slave, that is 80 caps. Furthermore you likely wish to rent a bed, that is 150 caps, and water for yourself is 20 caps." Sabrina sneered under her helmet, but she couldn't deny his logic. "I will sleep on the ground, give me 300 caps." "Done!" Mr. Iwashi snapped his fingers, and instead of handing over money he added a new negative entry to her debt. "Shall I have my servants remove your armour and prepare you a meal?" he seemed sweet, but Sabrina knew the debt would be added to her stock "No. I will do it myself." bowing respectfully as the duo returned to their manor, sitting herself down in the dirt outside to try to get a nap.
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The Traansval
Powerbroker
 
Posts: 9122
Founded: Jun 26, 2016
New York Times Democracy

Postby The Traansval » Sat Mar 24, 2018 3:21 pm

Hampton

Corporal Tyler squeezed the trigger on his rifle, firing a burst of shots at a Regulator on the ground. He fell back on his behind, back under the cover. The roof was lipped with a low brick wall, which provided a small amount of cover. While on his back, his attention was divert up, and north. North to the hill on the otherside of town, to where a force probably no larger than a Norfolk Battalion was, horses and all. He scrambled back to where the Lieutenant was, looking at a map with his second in command with the radio man nearby.

"SIR! SIR! THEY'VE GOT REINFORCEMENTS!"

The Lieutenant looked up sharply to where the Corporal was pointing. He cursed under his breath, and grabbed the radio off the back of the private next to him.

"Lieutenant Franks, 3rd Platoon, 12th Battalion, 3rd Infantry. I've spotted a force of Regulators, approx. a battalions worth, to the north of Hampton. Looks like the first of their reinforcements. Requesting Fire Support on Tango, Foxtrot, Alpha North eighty-two, Over."

Behind Norfolk Lines, Hampton
"-eighty-two, Over."

Captain Andrew Durant looked in horror down at the radio in his hand. He was the commander of 4th Regiment, the men who had been held back to secure the bridge and the brahmin trains. He had taken a Battalion, 14th Battalion, ahead of the main regiment to see what the situation was. Only to realize that he really should have taken the entire Regiment.

He looked to a young officer in the mortar pits, a second lieutenant.

"Captain, Sir. We've maybe a couple dozen rounds left, barely a couple barrages in total. If we fire now, we'll be out for the rest of the battle."

The Captain looked solem. The Colonels dead body was still there, in front of him, a single round, red hole in his head from a snipers bullet.

"Calibrate to the Lieutenants coordinates. Fire all of the shells you have."

The second lieutenant nodded, and called out to the mortar crew. Within a few seconds the first rounds went down the tubes, and then exploded out once more.

The Captain turned to his second in command, Lieutenant Nelson, commander of 2nd Platoon.

"Nelson, stay here with your platoon and the Mortars, i'll take the other two platoons down to try and help the boys. Have each platoons 2nd squad give the mortar men their mortars and ammo."

Nelson saluted, and got to his task.

Captain Durant turned to his man. He unsheathed the .44 revolver he always carried on his, raised it in the air and fired.

"Follow me men! TO VICTORY!"

The battalion ran down the hill, jumping over the long forgotten barricades that were litered with bodies, both Norfolk and Regulator alike. The Virginia had been notified of the reinforcements, and had now turned her guns on the north. Durants well polished boots hit the pavement, and he saw the crumbling builds all around him seem to close in on him. He moved forward, his platoon moving down the street.

Then, a gunshot. The private next to him went down, and he scrambled into cover. His back hit a piece of concrete, and he looked to his right to see a line of haggered soldiers. He looked to his left to see another line of soldiers, and to see his own join them. He also saw a man, covered in blood and guts, with a green beret.

"Captain Drake, Norfolk Marines, nice to see your boys join us"

"Nice to see you Drake, afraid i've only two platoons here. The rest of the Regiment is still a couple hours behind."

Drake seemed a bit downheartened by the news of the Regiments slow pace, but atleast he had two more platoons. He cocked the hammer on his .45 service pistol, and gave a rousing yell. The yell was echoed among the men under his command, and they went over the top of their cover. Grenades were chucked, although many had used theirs up earlier on. They needed to push now, push them out before the reinforcements got here, or they were dead meat.

Richmond

Colonel Quinn exhaled in frustration. He threw down his mega phone and motioned to the marines with him.

"Get a boat together, we're going ashore"

Half an hour later, the Colonel was sitting in one of the row boats tied to the ships side. Two other boats flanked her in the water, filled with Marines. They came ashore, and the Colonel walked calmly up to the Regulators. The Marines behind him were tense, watching for any move by the Regulators. The Colonel seemed more at ease, speaking just liked he looked.

"I'm sorry if our cannon fire has put you on edge, we needed to get your attention. Our terms are fair my good sir, unlike yours."

The Colonel looked around at the regulators in front of him, his lip slightly curled up at the rustic clothes they wore.

"Remove your protection from the city of Hampton and we will allow your men and any citizens who wish to go with them to leave in peace. Allow Norfolk to annex Hampton and its bridge, and do not extend your protection to any town east of highway 258 that is not already under your protection. In return, the State of Norfolk shall officially agree to a Treaty of Non-Aggression, committing to not take up arms against any settlement under your protection. These terms are simply."

The colonel took a cigar from out of his jacket, lighting it up and taking a puff.

"If you do not agree, then the ships behind me will fire on your fair city here. Our troops in Hampton will advance up the peninsula, and our Brigade in the south will move into take Smithfield, Windsor and many many other. Only this time, there will be no promise of safe passage. Hampton will burn, and all its citizens with it. I just got word that one of your men shot a Norfolk colonel when he offered surrender terms, very bad sportsmenship if i do say so."

He dropped the cigar on the ground, snubbing it out with the heel of his black leather boot.

"There are twelve Marines behind me, and another three dozen in the ships ready to take off. We could occupy and burn this city to the ground, and the only reason we haven't is because then we wouldn't have anyone to negotiate with. Accept our terms and we will leave, and never both you again. We have no interest in your lands, we merely seek to secure our borders."

"So, do you accept? or are you feeling particularly suicidal today?"
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