Page 4 of 9

Part 1 - Chapter 5 - Nuka Breaker War

PostPosted: Wed Mar 28, 2018 5:13 pm
by Absolon-7
Nuka-Breaker HQ (Dilley) 5:00 AM

The sun had not even risen from its slumber when the first blood was spilled. The army group had left Pearsall the morning after and marched all day until making camp a few hundred yards away from the thinly walled of entrance of Dilley. Colonel Herbert had ordered them to rest up for the night in preparation for the morning assault. While the decision to make their camp so close was scrutinized by his officers the Colonel was insistent that they do so as a show of force. He wanted them to regret ever messing with San Antonio. Unfortunately this was giving the raiders time to prepare as reported by scouts who where dismissed as naysayers by the Colonel.

Colonel Herbert was discussing the plan of action with all of the ranger and dragoon commanders when he suddenly pulled out a single stick of dynamite. He told them that while he had to complain and beg the Fort Sam Quartermaster to give it to him since he didn't see some pitiful raider outpost worthy of using their limited supply of explosives. Fortunately, he had convinced the Quartermaster in time for departure. It was just going to cost 10% of whatever valuable loot they got.

"Whatever, I don't care about your bootlicking. Tell us the plan or we're going out on our own," hollered Captain Knox Starbuck. He was Despot Nathaniel Starbuck's nephew who was second in line for the throne after Nathaniel's own nine year old son. Despite his family's protest the young man had entered military service like his uncle in order to prove himself. And proving himself he was since he had already risen to Captain at such a young age. He taken charge at 26 years old of the 5th Squadron, famously know as the Night Witches.

The colonel looked stunned at the flagrant disrespect but he kept calm to save face. "Okay well...I want your squadron and the 1st Squadron to follow 'round the I-35 to the other side and place this here dynamite stick on their southern gate. We'll be doing a full frontal assault so they'll have a majority of their forces defendin' 'gainst us. Now them idiots used goddamn sheet-metal for their gate walls so it'll be a matta' of hours before we bust through. What the dragoon's job is once their back gate is blown up is to charge in at their back an' slaughta' their disorganized mobs throughout'a the streets. That good enough of a plan for you. Your. Ma. Jes. Ty."

"Yes. It is, sir," snarled Knox swiping the dynamite from the Colonel's hand. The cavalry left as soon as Captain Starbuck mounted his horse and now only the infantry were left at camp. Colonel Herbert gave the order that the 5th Company was to spearhead the assault by attacking full force the front gate. Fortunately, the north and south gates were the only serious defense the camp had and most streets were complelty open or had small roadside ramparts. Fifty men from the 2nd Company would split off and attack the northern Highway 117 entrance at the old high school while another 50 would assault through the eastern Highway 85 gate and enter E. Leona Street. The last twenty men would stay in reserve back at the camp in case the frontal assault team took too many casualties.

After the sun rose again the stars were still looking down from the sky before the oncoming light slowly overtook them, one by one. The soldiers in grey split into their squads taking positions behind rocks, debris, anything else waist high. Heavy gunfire followed after the raiders sentries spotted the rangers taking positions. After the initial hailstorm, the gunfights mellowed out to sporadic exchanges with the Nuka-Breakers taking the most casualties. The two 2nd Company detachments had already taken most of the southern and northwestern sections of the town occupying buildings on the corners to separate the Nuka-Breakers Forces. Most of the melee armed raiders lay dead and dying on the street while the remaining forces took positions by the two gates although a majority were still at the front gate.

The shooting entered a lull by nine'o'clock with little gunfire being exchanged at all. Crouching behind a detached piece of brick wall Colonel Herbert was smacking the ground cursing the heavens. "Dangnambit! That no good trader lied to us! He said there were 170 but there's easily twice that! Isn't that right Corporal?"

"Y..yes sir!," gasped said corporal struggling to bandage up a bullet wound on his shoulder.

Shortly a thundering wave of gunshots followed as the fighting picked up again at noon. By now nearly the entire southern section was cleared by the southern detachment but the northern detachment had retreated back to the high school after taking considerable losses. Back at the northern gate the Nuka-Breakers were taking more and more casualties with the ones who had taken their injuries when the fighting started where now slowly bleeding out to death one by one. The cavalry waited by some distance from the southern gate waiting for Captain Knox Starbuck, who had recently left, to come back from planting the dynamite. They didn't wait for long, however, as the tremendous bang of an explosion destroyed the ramshackle gate blocking the street. They galloped as if the Devil himself was at their heels, the explosion had flushed out the remaining raiders hiding in nearby buildings their sense of logic now giving way to a primal instinct to survive. Swiftly they were cut down by the cavalry who had now separated themselves to sweep through the streets hunting down any stragglers. The southern ranger detachment now freed from the burden of holding their position move up to face the vulnerable backside of the front gate.

Taken by surprise, the defenders were rapidly cut down in a storm of bullets from each side. The survivors dropped their weapons, raising their arms up in surrender. Once ordered to open the front gate, the 5th Company split in two, one group was to gather inside to deal with the prisoners while the rest were to gather the bodies of their fallen or wounded comrades and head back to camp. Colonel Herbert ordered the rangers to line up on one side of the street with the kneeling prisoners on the other. Any who where under fifteen years of age where given amnesty and would be taken back to work as farmhands. The Colonel thought hopefully some honest work would set the youngsters on back on the right path. Everyone else was to be executed on the spot. No exceptions.

Over time gunshots could be heard with the wet splattering of bodies hitting the floor. But the Colonel would not be there to see it. One of the forgiven youngsters, a lad barely into puberty, had told him that the slave pens were in the high school. And indeed they were, the Colonel promised them that he'd free them he just had to find something heavy enough to brake the locks on the doors. He wouldn't have chance of finding anything as he was rummaging through rubble a loud hollering could be heard behind him. It was not just any hollering, it was the Nuka-breaker leader himself charging down the hallway with said Nuka-breaker sign in hand. The raider leader smashed the sign against the Colonel's head who then fell over on his side. He was beaten mercilessly, holding his legs against his body in order to protect his vitals. It seemed to go forever until a wet thud was heard next to him.

Looking up, he saw that it was none other than Captain Knox Starbuck who had used his saber to decapitate the bandit leader. Giving a gentle smile, he held out his hand for the Colonel to grab on to. Captain Starbuck searched through the now dead Nuka-Breaker leader and out came a lone key labeled "slave pens". Once everyone was gathered back at camp and everything of value was taken from Dilley and final count was made. On Dilley's side there were 21 teenage raiders given amnesty, 89 executed post-battle, 190 killed during battle, and 42 slaves rescued. On the San Antonio side there were a total of 15 killed during battle, 32 lightly wounded, and 1 mortally wounded. Not bad at all the Colonel thought before passing out.




Zelent wrote:---


Houston, Capitol of the NCT, Several Days Ago

Finn Hickleberry was as happy as a Giant Gecko in a chicken pen. He had a lot of caps left over for traveling expenses the Minister of Diplomacy had given him and he intended to use them to the fullest. He set out for the city zoo hoping to see anything and was immdeialty brought back to his days as a kid with his pappy taking him to the San Antonio zoo. After spending a good two hours there, Finn made his way to one the theaters to catch a re-release of a pre-war movie. On the way back to Presidency he heard that there was some ghoul band playing jazz of all things. He remembered that there was a "Ghoul Town" section in San Antonio that had about two dozen or so ghouls living there but he had never personally been there. It wouldn't hurt to go so he went to check it out. Once it was over he finally arrived back at the Presidency, picking up the letter from a secretary he headed back and then retrieving his pony. "I'm definitely gonna take my future misses on a honeymoon here," the young man said enthusiastically as he left the city gates on his way to unknowingly contributed to the future of the Wasteland.




San Antonio, pop. 125,752

Despot Nathaniel Starbuk was not a patient man. The last six days he had done nothing but wait, wait some more, and then finally wait. The annexation of the now northernmost villages had left him cheerful but once he got back his mood just turned back sour. He had been waiting patiently in his office for either his messenger to arrive or for Colonel Herbert to return triumphantly. During that time he had the same boring talks with his Cabinet about repairing the citadel's southern walls, something about installing more solar panels on the apartment buildings, and approving a project to expand a local park but he didn't care about that stuff right now. He wanted to know how his Despotate's power projecting was going. He picked up his copy of Machiavelli's The Prince and began reading. He didn't know who this Machiavelli was or what an "Italy" is but he sure did write some neat stuff.

After some time passed, his Minister of Diplomacy barged in with letter in hand gasping for air. He revealed that the messenger had returned and promptly gave the letter to Nathaniel. He eagerly opened his desk to pick out a letter opener and swiftly revealed the contents. Reading it over Nathaniel was pleased that it went well. Signaling his Minister they set to work on writing a response. After a few minutes of brainstorming they wrote out the letter. By night they found the same messenger boy at a nearby bakery and sent him out with his second assigned pony.

Dear, Mr. President

I completely understand your inability to meet me because of managing your country. Luckily I am available to travel to your capitol a few days before the start of next month as I l need to put my affairs in order. Once that is resolved, I shall head out immediately on carriage. We can discuss more meticulous details then.

Sincerely, Nathaniel Starbuck, Despot of San Antonio

PostPosted: Wed Mar 28, 2018 5:27 pm
by Dragos Bee
Nathaniel Green; Looked Over by New Minhasa

Nathaniel would go towards the Artisans/Workshop district of Augustum, trying as hard to be casual about it as possible. He knew that he needed to find hard work that accomodated to his immense strength but also required a bit of intelligence without coming into contact with complicated machines that would draw his bad luck. So, Nathaniel sought an ironworks, or if Augustum had one, a steel mill. An ironworks or steel mill, especially in a place as concerned for its workers like Augustum, also provided protective gear, gear that he could probably buy back with a portion of his wages. And so the young man went on, looking for the largest plume of black smoke in the city he could find.

As he saw the black, forbidding building that radiated heat, he went to the front of the building, and asked the guards: "Hello, umm...I'm looking for work. Who do I talk to in order to find some?"

The guards would point him to a side entrance that was the traditional point of entry for new job-seekers even in Old America, and Nathaniel would enter; soon enough, he would find himself facing a manager in manager's overalls with a clean-shaven head that presumably lightened the heat. The manager would ask, bluntly, "Are you here for work?"

Nathaniel nodded, "Yes. That said, as someone...new here, I am not sure how jobs here work. Do I have to work for a set number of days or months? What's the pay? Do we get protective gear, and if so, can it be bought permanently with part of one's wages? Does this place have steel-cutting automatic saws, or do we do this by hand?"

The answers were: Daily salary; a set number of Denarii per hours worked, protective gear had to be bought with part of one's savings, and there were steel-cutting automatic saws, but most work was done by hand. That last part - the rarity of the auto-saws - meant that Nathaniel's luck would cause him to break one of those scarce pieces of equipment if he had one at hand. So he'd have to do...8 hours per day of manual labor for two or four weeks to get the money he'll need to outfit himself as a passable caravan guard to go east. Managable, perfectly managable, even if he did have to buy the protective gear out of his wages. And what (surprisingly good) luck, he can probably buy it with four days of work...unless the Legion chose to fully annex Augustum first; then he'd be down on his luck for sure.

PostPosted: Wed Mar 28, 2018 5:31 pm
by Puertollano
Republic of Washington, Birmingham
Children of Atom


Another detachment of missionaries was on its way, partially held back after the internal incident. Since all of the routes were re-written, and timetables changed, it took a while before Brother Herbert, and a companion could set off to meet the other neighbours. High Confessor Wallace was aware of contact being made in Columbus, a city of the Gulf Commonwealth, however he knew they weren't the only power surrounding Montgomery. Like most Children of Atom, Brother Herbert look dreary, painstakingly travelling with a Brahmin, and an initiate. It was supposed to be a sign of respect to Atom to dress modestly, so many believers wore torn cloth, hoods, caps, coats. Nothing especially fancy. Once arriving in Birmingham, they spoke to the first person they could find. "Greetings. We are representatives of the Church of the Children of Atom. We would like to speak with your master."

Stuttgart
Children of Atom


Surprisingly, the Runner maintained a high-level of success in her operation. Armed with a simple Gamma Gun, and the resources in her back-pack, she survived the harrowing trip out of the Glow and into the Wasteland. Missionaries had the job of representing the Children of Atom, and didn't do much work other than travel and proselytising to the unconvinced. It required little training, but a more experienced elder would lead the operation, to ensure the reputation of the Church was misrepresented by any Initiates or rogue elements. A Runner, on the other hand, was a job that must be trained for. Fighting off creatures of the Wasteland, keeping a low-profile, and getting the message to a usually difficult place. And this mission was no different. The Runner passed through the territory of the Tsarist Raiders, undetected and unknown. Stuttgart, according the messages obtained by the High Confessor, was the base of operations of a secretive Ghoul society. Reports indicated that their customs greatly overlapped those of the Church and so naturally, the Church wanted to absorb them. Open arriving in Stuttgart, the Runner approached the base with extreme caution. She unveiled the shroud over her head so that she could be seen properly by the Cultists.
"Stop there!" A Ghoul yelled, upon the arrival of the Runner in the warehouse.
"I am a friend!" The Runner quickly replied, still unable to see where the voice originated from. A Ghoul from an elevated platform revealed itself, brandishing a Plasma Weapon. Plasma Weapon.., the Runner thought. This could be a bigger jackpot than expected. Imagine the reaction from the High Confessor..
"Who are you, and where are you from?"
"I am a Runner from the Church of the Children of Atom. We heard about your circumstances, and we too believe in the sacredness of the radiation, and of Atom." At this comment, more Ghouls appeared, and began listening along.
"Interesting. There are more of us?"
"Many, many more. And we will in the safety of the Glow. It is a paradise for Ghouls, for those who believe in Atom. We wish to send you an official invitation to join us."
"Can you guarantee our safety?"
"Of course, we have guards with weapons, and most of all, we have the holy protection from the Glow. Here take this," the Runner walked towards the Ghoul handing over the note written by the High Confessor. "So, will you join us?"
The Ghouls looked around at each other, and the one that was doing the speaking spoke up again. "We will. Give us a moment for us to collect our things."

PostPosted: Wed Mar 28, 2018 5:38 pm
by The Manticoran Empire
Puertollano wrote:Republic of Washington, Birmingham
Children of Atom


Another detachment of missionaries was on its way, partially held back after the internal incident. Since all of the routes were re-written, and timetables changed, it took a while before Brother Herbert, and a companion could set off to meet the other neighbours. High Confessor Wallace was aware of contact being made in Columbus, a city of the Gulf Commonwealth, however he knew they weren't the only power surrounding Montgomery. Like most Children of Atom, Brother Herbert look dreary, painstakingly travelling with a Brahmin, and an initiate. It was supposed to be a sign of respect to Atom to dress modestly, so many believers wore torn cloth, hoods, caps, coats. Nothing especially fancy. Once arriving in Birmingham, they spoke to the first person they could find. "Greetings. We are representatives of the Church of the Children of Atom. We would like to speak with your master."

Corporal Larry Ingram of the Birmingham Militia looked at the strangely dressed individual and said, "Whachu mean, my master? I look like a slave to you?" Not waiting for an answer, he moved on. "You sure as hell ain't from around here. My only master is the Lord God. Close second is my Ma. If you wanna talk to the guy in charge, that'd be Sergeant Cooper at the checkpoint back thataways. If you're looking for the honest to god head honcho around here, try the Mayor's office."

PostPosted: Wed Mar 28, 2018 5:54 pm
by Puertollano
The Manticoran Empire wrote:
Puertollano wrote:Republic of Washington, Birmingham
Children of Atom


Another detachment of missionaries was on its way, partially held back after the internal incident. Since all of the routes were re-written, and timetables changed, it took a while before Brother Herbert, and a companion could set off to meet the other neighbours. High Confessor Wallace was aware of contact being made in Columbus, a city of the Gulf Commonwealth, however he knew they weren't the only power surrounding Montgomery. Like most Children of Atom, Brother Herbert look dreary, painstakingly travelling with a Brahmin, and an initiate. It was supposed to be a sign of respect to Atom to dress modestly, so many believers wore torn cloth, hoods, caps, coats. Nothing especially fancy. Once arriving in Birmingham, they spoke to the first person they could find. "Greetings. We are representatives of the Church of the Children of Atom. We would like to speak with your master."

Corporal Larry Ingram of the Birmingham Militia looked at the strangely dressed individual and said, "Whachu mean, my master? I look like a slave to you?" Not waiting for an answer, he moved on. "You sure as hell ain't from around here. My only master is the Lord God. Close second is my Ma. If you wanna talk to the guy in charge, that'd be Sergeant Cooper at the checkpoint back thataways. If you're looking for the honest to god head honcho around here, try the Mayor's office."


Brother Herbert and the Initiate couldn't understand half the stuff he was saying, a mixture between the accent and the vocabulary. After a little while of decphering his words, the troupe could understand who they needed to speak to. The Missionaries made their way to the Mayor's Officer, tying the Brahmin up to a pole outside before entering the building. "We would like to speak with your Mayor, please."

PostPosted: Wed Mar 28, 2018 6:04 pm
by The Manticoran Empire
Puertollano wrote:
The Manticoran Empire wrote:Corporal Larry Ingram of the Birmingham Militia looked at the strangely dressed individual and said, "Whachu mean, my master? I look like a slave to you?" Not waiting for an answer, he moved on. "You sure as hell ain't from around here. My only master is the Lord God. Close second is my Ma. If you wanna talk to the guy in charge, that'd be Sergeant Cooper at the checkpoint back thataways. If you're looking for the honest to god head honcho around here, try the Mayor's office."


Brother Herbert and the Initiate couldn't understand half the stuff he was saying, a mixture between the accent and the vocabulary. After a little while of decphering his words, the troupe could understand who they needed to speak to. The Missionaries made their way to the Mayor's Officer, tying the Brahmin up to a pole outside before entering the building. "We would like to speak with your Mayor, please."

Briana McNicholas looked up from her desk at the two ragged looking men and said, "I'm sorry but who are you?"

PostPosted: Wed Mar 28, 2018 6:37 pm
by Puertollano
The Manticoran Empire wrote:
Puertollano wrote:
Brother Herbert and the Initiate couldn't understand half the stuff he was saying, a mixture between the accent and the vocabulary. After a little while of decphering his words, the troupe could understand who they needed to speak to. The Missionaries made their way to the Mayor's Officer, tying the Brahmin up to a pole outside before entering the building. "We would like to speak with your Mayor, please."

Briana McNicholas looked up from her desk at the two ragged looking men and said, "I'm sorry but who are you?"


"We are representatives of the Church of the Children of Atom. We wish to speak with your Leader."

PostPosted: Wed Mar 28, 2018 6:55 pm
by The Manticoran Empire
Puertollano wrote:
The Manticoran Empire wrote:Briana McNicholas looked up from her desk at the two ragged looking men and said, "I'm sorry but who are you?"


"We are representatives of the Church of the Children of Atom. We wish to speak with your Leader."

Briana chuckled and said, "I'm sorry but the Mayor is in a meeting and the President is in Nashville. You're gonna be waiting awhile, mister. We've got a lounge over there," she pointed to a large room on the right. "Make yourselves at home. I'll let you know when the Mayor is available."

PostPosted: Wed Mar 28, 2018 7:13 pm
by Puertollano
The Manticoran Empire wrote:
Puertollano wrote:
"We are representatives of the Church of the Children of Atom. We wish to speak with your Leader."

Briana chuckled and said, "I'm sorry but the Mayor is in a meeting and the President is in Nashville. You're gonna be waiting awhile, mister. We've got a lounge over there," she pointed to a large room on the right. "Make yourselves at home. I'll let you know when the Mayor is available."


They were not amused as much as Briana, but alas, they decided to wait. Taking a seat.

PostPosted: Wed Mar 28, 2018 7:44 pm
by The Empire of Tau
January 27th of 2252

The “Virginia Republic” is No More

Image
After weeks of cut supply lines, the rebels began to one by one run across no mans land and surrender to Union forces. Starving, a few still loyal to their Leader hold out, only a dozen or so left, slowly starving to death. Seeing no threat to be haved, the 15th Union Rifle Regiment marches into the city of Roanoke. The remaining dozen rebels are seized and are handed over to the Committee for State Security. The flag of the short-lived Virginia Republic is now replaced by the Union flag. And with that, the “Virginia Republic” is no more.

The Opening of “Big Bertha”

Image
In the city of Columbia, the newly repaired pre-war recycling center, nicknamed the Big Bertha due to its massive size, is now fully operational for all to use in Columbia. Dumpsters of many filled with plastics, scrap metal, wood, and anything else that you could recycle is brought to the facility to be processed. New options are now available for workmen due to a stable source of higher quality materials. Along with the opening the pre-war recycling center, another workshop is currently being built increase the output of war goods.

Part 1 - Chapter 6 - Final

PostPosted: Thu Mar 29, 2018 2:59 pm
by Absolon-7
No Man's Land Between the Despotate and New Texas Commonwealth, Early February

Nathaniel Starbuck was a pleased man today. He was on his personal carriage heading to Houston and riding alongside him was his Minister of Diplomacy and four rangers whose jobs were to guard the carriage. Six days after he sent the courier boy away, the army group he sent that were in charge of taking out the Nuka-Breakers had returned triumphantly having taken minimal casualties. They had even brought back new citizens for the Despotate. The teenage former-raiders were enrolled in school instead of being turned into farmhands and they would get a weekly allowance straight from the state. The liberated slaves were taken to the rehab center so they could get adjusted back into society. They would get a monthly pension until they recovered and received a job.

To make things more interesting, one liberated slave volunteered to join the cohorts so he was assigned to the new "9th Company" in the north. The new force was barely a third of a platoon but now with the new ex-slave it would get its numbers up to a measly 22. In fact, the Despotate's population had previously been 154,857 because of the newly annexed northern territory but now with the recent battle casualties and new citizens it had changed to 154,900. This growth pleased him, so much so he now had a new goal in getting the cohorts numbers above 1,000! But this would require more territory, specifically the the Kingdom of San Marcos. The only thing he new about it is that is was some petty feudal state to the northwest and that it's territory resembled a triangle. Whatever the case, he had started the mobilization of some of the fresher companies to prepare for war.

He was also pleased with some of the public works that he had approved of. He rescinded the order to install individual solar panels on apartments and instead to focus on repairing the two OCI Solar Farms. Both were only between 10-21% operational and he had the choice of repairing both to 50% capacity and then focus on other matters or to get one as close to 100% as it could get and leave the other at 25%. He had chosen to first option since he didn't want to create a reliance that was too narrow. He had also ordered the reopening of the San Antonio Train Station since he had heard that the Commonwealth did have railways to some degree and linking them together would be essential to trade. Turning his gaze to the outside golden prairies, he started to feel San Antonio still had a chance of truly becoming great.

El Paso, Texas

Bedford felt anxious to get out of the city. He missed the genuine Texan atmosphere of San Antonio. This place, however, just rubbed him wrong in every way. There was just something so wrong about it. But he couldn't think about philosophical stuff right now he had to make sure his caravan stayed on the street. He was sitting on the hood of an old pickup truck that had been re-purposed as a longhorn driven wagon. The caravan included most of his family, two business partners, and a few guards. They were passing by the city square on the way to the exit gate when Bedford suddenly noticed a large crowd looking at something in the distance.

"Holl up guys! I'm gonna take a look at that thing. Might be important." He stopped the caravan in its tracks, hopping of the hood to see what they were looking at. What he saw tore his heart asunder. He was a simple man but he knew when a work of art was trying to say something everyone needed to hear. The poster was filled with horrors stories of completely monstrous things that newfangled Legion had done. He ran back to the caravan rummaging through the back of the truck. After a few seconds he found what he was looking for, an old camera he bought when his first child was born. Taking it he went over to the poster and took pictures of every individual passage. He made sure the picture of the last passage would turn out especially clear.
Just as the Legion betrayed their own allies, so will they betray anyone who deviates the slightest from their vision. You call yourselves a Republic with a Senate and Triarchs, yet Caesar hates the very idea of Democracy. Your history states that you regard the Empire as bringing ruin onto the Romans, when Caesar himself claims the mantle of Empire and decrees that there are no such thing as Romans; that his inspiration was the God Mars himself. Good people of Augustum, wake up; once your usefulness to Caesar has ended, he will betray you. Even before that happens, his mind would already be preparing for a world where you are under his boot.

Do not wait to be like the Twisted Hairs. Prepare to defend yourselves.

Once he was done, he made sure that his caravan exited the city before any one caught them. Now outside the city, he had to make damn sure he got those photos to his liege for the Legion would soon do to San Antonio as they did to the Twisted Hairs.

PostPosted: Thu Mar 29, 2018 3:18 pm
by Northern Poland
Old Oil Rig, ROB
The workers finish their project, Long hard work finally finished. The first container ships bring fresh water back to Orange beach, and people now have access to (Cheaper) Water. They also announce the finishing of the ROB Fairhope, it is the largest Ship in the fleet, but is still a patrol boat. The Navy is still made up of old Fishing Boats and PT boats, but they plan to build a wooden frigate.

Jack Edwards National Airport, ROB
The Engineers and repairmen breath a sigh of relief, they had finished making the Vertibird work. They had also scrapped a few crashed Civilian planes, and they plan to put them together for a new design of plane, if they can figure out one. They also find 4 helicopter Pilot helmets stored in a container on the Vertibird after looking around. The airport has some fuel left in it, so they fill up the vertibird. The Uniform would look alot like the Roving Trader outfit. They would have 2 pilots, and two copilots to switch out every once in awhile. They would equip it with 2 Browning 50. cals, and 4 Makeshift Rockets.

Gulf Shores, Republic of Orange Beach
Things weren't all peachy though, a riot of 190 people would be held in Gulf shores. The riot was against the lack of food, as the farms where having problems with their plants dying of radiation. The Police deployed 60 Police, all Armed with Riot Gear and Any gun that could fire non-lethals. Then the rioters charged at them, and the police fired 150 rounds into the crowd, wounding 50 people. They blocked off the city centre, and then the rioters threw Molotovs at them, wounding 7 police, while killing 4. A group of 5 police switched to leathals, firing at a group of throwers. They killed 4 people, and wounded 6 more, with 40 arrests being made. Martial law would be declared in the area, and Police would roam the streets with the help of some stationed Military Personnel.

PostPosted: Thu Mar 29, 2018 4:27 pm
by The Manticoran Empire
Paducah
Kentucky

The Battle of Mayfield had sent a clear message to the other settlements in western Kentucky. A new master was present and the Republic had wasted no time in making changes. The people were given citizenship and instructed on the Laws of the Republic. Douglas' Battalion would remain in Kentucky for the time being, to ensure the peace was kept and keep any ne'er-do-wells from causing problems. He'd moved his headquarters to Paducah mainly because it was the largest settlement in this part of Kentucky. More than 6,000 people lived in the area and it served as a major hub of river and road traffic. It was here that the Ohio met the Tennessee and anyone travelling from the north would have to pass through Paducah. That made it a strategically important frontier town. To that end, he stationed most of his battalion in and around Paducah and had set to work fortifying the town. He also offered very generous positions in the Republican Army to the men of Paducah, asking them to step up and defend their home from raiders and tribals. Most turned him down, not that he blamed them. He had, after all, just conquered them. It would take time before those wounds healed and he knew that. All he could do was attempt to make their lives better.

Birmingham
Republic of Washington

Five battalions of infantry and two squadrons of cavalry were assembled. There were four militia battalions and one battalion of regulars. The force had been assembled for one reason: to punish the raiders to the south. Reports indicated that this raider band had an outpost in Tuscaloosa and so it would be there that the force would march. They had learned at Tupelo that this band wasn't like others. It was organized. It was at least somewhat disciplined. And it had access to heavy weapons. Despite this, the orders had been clear. This was a punitive expedition. Tuscaloosa would be burned to the ground, the raiders within slaughtered and their bodies left, hanging in the trees, to rot away. Every man present had no illusions about what this was to be. And it was with this knowledge that they marched.

Tupelo
Republic of Washington

Another force had been assembled in Tupelo, comprising five battalions and a squadron. Their target was Columbus and their mission was the same. Punish the raiders who attacked the Republic. Make them dread the mere mention of the Republic. They were well equipped for this campaign and knew precisely what they would do. Mortars would lay down a smokescreen, covering the infantry as they rushed the settlement. Once the infantry were in Columbus, they would go house to house, killing any raiders they could find. If resistance was too heavy, they would burn Columbus to the ground with the inhabitants still inside. A message had to be sent. Mess with the Republic and Hell will rain upon you.

PostPosted: Thu Mar 29, 2018 4:43 pm
by Dragos Bee
Nathaniel Green

One of the former slaves/free paid workers in the steel mill was a woman by the name of Sedna, a strong, well-muscled woman in her late thirties who acted as the foreman of Nathaniel's group. Nathaniel himself was counting his Denarii - he had a small sum now even after buying the protective gear from the steel mill - when the foreman (well, forewoman) walked towards him; it was only then that he noticed the dreadlocks she wore under her hat. Greeting her with a wave and a smile, Nathaniel would say, "So, what brings you here?"

He knew insticitively that it wasn't for sex; her expression was too grave and serious for that. This was confirmed when Sedna replied; "You're preparing to leave. Why is that? Isn't life here as a sheep for the Legion's cattle good enough for you?"

Nathaniel faintly smiled. "My life brings me further east, I'm afraid. But I take it that you hate the Legion itself? Then again, most of the former slaves here do; they're just glad to be away from those folks." He then looked at her dreadlocks. "The betrayal of the Twisted Hairs is still recent news, it seems. It's a shame that its confined to rumors among the slaves and poorer people."

Sedna's eyes glinted in the lamp light of the worker's quarters. "You've been keeping your eyes and ears open, I see. Far more than expected of a sheep waiting for slaugther. Nor would a member of the Frumentarii speak of my tribe's treatment at the hands of their 'allies' and agree they were wronged. Not in such a plain tone, at least."

Nathaniel nodded at that. "Now, tell me, what if I can bring your story to the higher ranks of Augustum's society? Disturb their counsels and make them fear betrayal from their benefactors, as they should when the fate of your tribe is considered? All I will need is a stylus, a large roll of cheap paper, and ink; after all, the pen is mightier than the sword when the former directs the latter."

Sedna's face hardened, but she didn't shake her head. "I never fancied you for a storyteller. What's the catch?"

The response was matter-of-fact, "That people hate the Legion more, once they find out the full details of how they treat their allies and vassals. And that you be the one pinning the resulting poster in the City Square; I am too clumsy to do so undetected."

A nod at that from the woman. "Doable. This is an unusual way to make the Legion pay for what they did to my tribe, but not unwholesome. How many days till you get your 'poster' ready?"

"Seven, after procuring the right materials. I spend 8 hours a day working, 8 hours at lesiure, and 8 asleep," Nathaniel said confidently. I will have to inform my NCR Superiors of this in my dreams, as well.

One Week Later

Overnight, a large poster would be put up on a broad just outside the City Square of Augustum, where as many citizens as possible can view it when daylight struck. Though this poster was made up of cheap paper, the writing was in Latin and English - and the Latin was as eloquent as anyone from Augustum's upper classes can express. The title on the top of the poster, written in childishly neat letters, was: On the Betrayal of the Twisted Hairs, a True History by Tacitus Secundus.

This detailed, in exquisite detail, the Twisted Hairs' existence and power, their alliance with Caesar, and then their betrayal, no less than a few years ago, by the Legion they had expected to share power with. There were graphic descriptions of crucifixions, rapes, torture and enslavement, as well as the destruction of the tribal identity and culture of the Hairs. The last paragraph in both the Latin and English sections stated:

Just as the Legion betrayed their own allies, so will they betray anyone who deviates the slightest from their vision. You call yourselves a Republic with a Senate and Triarchs, yet Caesar hates the very idea of Democracy. Your history states that you regard the Empire as bringing ruin onto the Romans, when Caesar himself claims the mantle of Empire and decrees that there are no such thing as Romans; that his inspiration was the God Mars himself. Good people of Augustum, wake up; once your usefulness to Caesar has ended, he will betray you. Even before that happens, his mind would already be preparing for a world where you are under his boot.

Do not wait to be like the Twisted Hairs. Prepare to defend yourselves.

PostPosted: Thu Mar 29, 2018 5:48 pm
by The Tophat Empire
The Traansval wrote:Wellingtonne

General Hamish leapt from the small rowboat up onto the dock, his marines joining him while the crew tied them to the pier, Captain Joyce overseeing. He grasped the Officers leather clad hand in his, shaking it while offering the man a salute.

"Well, its very nice to meet you Officer 9823; good to hear that Norfolks reputation extends this far south. Those guns gave us a fright as we got closer, could barely see em until we got close. Here, i bring a peace offering, its a fine wine from my families estate in Virginia Beach along with some fine Virginia Tobacco."

The General offered the small bundle to the man, a smile on his face.

"So, where might be this Honorable Elector? I have very pressing this to discuss."




"She will be with us in a moment, she was in a meeting when you passed into the harbor waters. Our apologies, but we did not fully expect you to turn in and lay anchor, so to say" The officer replied, he had about just done that when the sound of galloping hooves approached, looking down the road leading to the pier, along the waterfront came three horses, spurned on by the spawns of hell itself judging from the speed. It did not take long before they passed the opening in the crowed that had been made, two of the horses had slowed down, and trotted in to a slow stop on the pier. The third horse, whom had led the small group didn't stop the gallop before she absolutely had to, stopping suddenly by realling the horse in in a violent manover, forcing it up on two legs, to do this and remain graceful was the feat of a good rider, and as if to make a point, the rider graceful jumped off the horse, letting one of the soldiers grab the reins and keep it still. Before the officer and general now stood a young lady in a uniform much like the officers, but without the breastplate, and the long coat was much shorter, like a jacket, and seemed to be more form fitted the the soldiers. The gas mask and helmet was also shining with a absence, as where any weapons bar a knife on a belt, seated in a scabbard decorated with shining gold and silver. A graceful and fair face, her clean shoulder long, blond hair like a glowing halo among the black and brown gas masks.

The officer snapped to a short salute, saying "Elector, this is General James Hamish of the State of Norfolk. He says he carries pressing matters for you darling"

The apparent elector looked at the officer and snapping responded "nine-eight-two-three, you know we arent supposed to use words like that while on duty. Now i am a Elector for the Wellingtonne District, and you are Officer nine-eight-two-three" Al tho her words where harsh, her tone and eyes where lovingly towards the masked man. She then turned her gaze to the General, walked up to him, and eyed him closely, she leaned in a bit closer, likely a bit to close for comfort for the man. Before leaning back again, she offer him her hand and spoke, in a more serous tone, befitting a person of responsibility and status "General James Hamish of the State of Norfolk. I am Julia Elinora, Elector of the Wellingtonne District, and Speaker of the Emperor of the Tophat Empire. Pleased to make your acquaintance, i hope that this is the first of many friendly meetings. Officer nine-eight-two-three said that you had a pressing matter on your heart, so lets skip the other formalities and hear what words rest on your Tongue" She said, giving a ever faint smile

PostPosted: Thu Mar 29, 2018 8:16 pm
by Prusslandia
Paradise, Louisiana
Constantine Blackhall


Within the city of Paradise, debauchery reigned. Savage zealots in steel plate and jackboots patrolled the dirty streets, a dagger of restrained violence within the morass of travelers and criminals that filled the city. From wealthy water-barons dressed in Old World ‘finery’ to jet-addicts wrapped in little more than sack-cloth and thread, the city of sin welcomed all. The chemical scent of drug use intermingled with the rich odor of spilt blood, chem-dens and blood-pits often intermixing. The sounds of decadence and vice accompanied these sights, fulfilling the tapestry of sin that is Paradise.

Constantine Blackhall observed the city from atop the highest tower, drinking deep the immorality of it all. He was the Lord of all he purveyed, his Reavers stretching from Paradise to Lafayette. Any other warlord would be satiated, content to gorge themselves on the fruits of their power and conquest. Constantine was not any other warlord. His spirit still hungered for conquest, for the purgation of the weak and the growth of the strong. He desired a great empire, countless slaves serving him, an innumerable legion of savage soldiers enforcing the dominance of the strong. If it cost him the lives of his brothers and sisters, of all the Reavers within his command, he would pay it no heed.

In the midst of this moment there was a light cough, and Constantine turned his head, looking at the men and women behind him. He had called them here for a reason, though one they knew not yet. Turning around completely, he walked forward. He would waste no words on rhetoric or monologue. They would receive their commands and carry them out. He first turned towards a woman, powerfully built, with a shock of bleach-blond hair and a myriad of facial burns and scars.

“Mary, you will take a detachment of 500 and march them eastward, towards the settlement of Hammond. Raze whatever settlements you come across on your way, and then you will sack the city once you arrive. From there you will await my command.” The woman nodded once, swiftly turning to gather her warparty. Next Constantine addressed a hideous thing, a ghoul that was so rad-scarred and deformed it wore a porcelain mask.

“Angelus, gather your warriors and make due south, towards Lafayette. Take command of the 600 that await you, and prepare for further marching.” The ghoul gave an overly theatrical bow, swiveling back and heading to serve.

One individual remained on the rooftop, the most unassuming of them all. A small, elderly man, dressed in what one would call ‘Sunday Best’, with an earnest smile on his face. Smiling back, Constantine gripped his shoulder with one hand. “My dearest Jonas, you will gather a warparty 800 strong. Head down I-90, and take the settlement of Bayou Vista. There will be no quarter, no enslavement. Exterminate all who live there, and await for my arrival.”

Smiling, Jonas mock-saluted before heading off in the same manner his compatriots did. Alone once again, Constantine Blackhall turned to observe his city once more. His armies now marched for war, as agents engineered the downfall of the enemies defenses. He gave a quiet chuckle, basking in the light and sensation of it all. The Second Kingdom would burn, and New Orleans with it. The Reavers would see to that.

Vicksburg, Mississippi
Driver Nephi

Nephi whistled to himself as the caravan made its way up the partially restored highway, absent-mindedly fiddling with the nine-iron in his grasp. All was at peace, until the city appeared on the horizon. Crude walls of scrap metal and wood surrounded it, draped in rotting viscera and adorned in markings not seen in war for over 200 years. Skulls sat upon pikes and armed killers awaited Nephi, rifles and shotguns raised. Slurs and curses rang out from both sides, firearms raised as the tension grew and grew, suddenly deflated as a woman approached, waving the caravan through. Slipping her a bundle of caps, Nephi made his way towards the big building, intent on meeting the leader of these savages, “pure” as they may be.

PostPosted: Thu Mar 29, 2018 10:20 pm
by New Minahasa
Fort Stockton, Texas

A force of 1,000 troops, now reduced to approximately 800 men, had finally reached the last and biggest city of the confederation. This was their final objective. Stockton was the de facto leader of the confederation, being the largest and most populated city within it; fifteen hundred people or so, but with only a fighting force of two hundred decently armed men. Stockton wasn't as martial or militarized as others within the confederation, but their skill in diplomacy and a signifcant sum of wealth were key factors of their success as leader of the confederation. They had prepared themselves for the final showdown against the western imperialists. The legio, under the command of Praefectus Euclio Marsus, had been campaigning for almost a month, but their vigor and zeal were yet to diminish.

The Siege of Van Horn was swift, efficient, and brutal. It took them around 2 hours preparing, bombarding, and assaulting the defences before the small town fell. They were pretty resistant in the fight, placing the elderly, and even children to fight for their homes. Anyone who put up a fight were shot on sight, and those who surrendered were taken in as POWs. Any teenagers and children who were forced to be in this conflict were given pardon and a chance to be given proper education in Augustum, and full citizenship once they grew old enough. The leaders and chief architects of the Sierra Blanca attack were taken and given to the survivors, allowing them to decide the fate of their attackers.

Their next target were the triple cities of Balmorhea, Saragosa, and Toyahvale. Famous for their arrogance, they sallied out of their fortresses and met the legio in open field. Roughly five hundred men and women were present, leaving behind only a small force to guard their settlements and the children and elderly inside. They had three pieces of working cannons with them as well, each representing a city, but when they learned that the 'imperialists' had even more firepower than they did, the morale of the militia was broken. Cannons fired at their positions, breaking and scattering the entire resistance. Within a few hours, everyone was either dead, captured, or completely abandoning the battlefield and their hometowns. Their cities were razed for food and supplies to sustain the troops in the next few days.

Stockton was their final showdown. The copies and replicas of the Civil War field artillery were lined up neatly, assaulting and bombarding the fortified positions from miles away. Euclio Marsus, being the primus of his Vigiles centuria before being temporarily promoted as the praefectus of their joint legio, led the charge into the town after the gate was blown open. The defenders were completely overwhelmed by the mass of attackers, and with the casualties sustained from the artillery bombing, it wasn't long until what remained of their armed militia were decimated, and the rest surrendering. A decisive victory and a successful campaign for Augustum.


El Paso, Texas

The Grand Senate was completely riled by the controversial poster that showed up a few days ago. As soon as the poster itself was noticed, the senators were given notice, and the senate was immediately gathered. Arguments were being thrown left and right. It was utter chaos. "I told you we should have dealt with those Legion traitors sooner! Our entire allegiance with them was a huge mistake!"

"We don't even know if that's true or not. It could just be another made up story to persuade us to cut connections with the Legion, thus giving them a reason to assault our beloved city."

"Whether it's true or not, the Legion has indeed made their presence known! They've overran a nation north of here, flags of the Bull flying high above the ruins and corpses that they've piled! The so-called 'Morgan Domain' is under Legion control now, and they could be marching at us right now as we speak! Something must be done!"

It continued for a few more minutes before a voice from the table of the Triarchs emerged. "Peace, gentlemen, I demand peace!" The Magnus Mechanicus had to step up to calm the situation, but the chaos was too much for his voice to be heard. A loud THUMP emerged, followed by another familiar voice, this time significantly louder than before. "SILENCE! Let the Magnus Mechanicus speak,his words, damn it!" This time, it was the Legatus. Not necessarily a surprise. All of the previous legates, not excluding this one, had always been more rough and direct in their ways.

The senate was silenced, the Magnus Mechanicus uttering a "thank you" to the Legatus. "Gentlemen, please, let us be the civilized people we're supposed to be. I'm sure all of you gathered here are aware of the cause of several of our colleagues here's temperament, as we've just witnessed not a minute ago. Now, we've... never had a bigger situation like this ever since the Legion made their appearance on our doorsteps just a couple years prior. Deep inside, it's really no longer a surprise to me that the Legion would be the cause another controversial situation such as this one. We are aware of the Legion's presence in the north, and our spies report of a massive army comprised of more than ten thousand legionnaires." The Magnus Mechanicus paused to take his breath.

"The incident surrounding the Twisted Hairs, hearing directly from the slaves that we've bought off the Legion, was reported to be true. These slaves, most of them being women, were once apart of the Twisted Hairs tribe, a powerful ally of the Legion in Arizona. Until Caesar broke the alliance and turned on their own allies. We've checked for the validity of this information by contacting our western spies as well as contacting and interviewing trades and caravans from the west. Most had zero idea of what happened, while the rest confirmed our suspicion. Our spies in Arizona said the exact same, as well. Gentlemen, this could be a dire situation for us. For the Grand City. And because of that, the Triarchy had constructed our own decision on this, but of course we still inquire your notions on this as well." The Magnus Mechanicus rolled out a piece of paper on the table, reading it.

"We will maintain our friendly relations with the Legion until further notice. This was meant so that the Legion will be not given even more reasons to attack us, giving us more time to prepare ourselves discreetly against any possible incursions done by them in the future. News will be spread east of the Legion's actions while our emissaries will be contacting well-established nations, namely the National Commonwealth of Texas and the San Antonio Despotate. Should any possible alliances are looked upon in these dire times, Augustum will see fit to sever ANY relations with the Legion, if that's what's required. Furthermore, our borders will be strengthened, our spies activated to watch for Legion activities, and our army to be prepared under the leadership of Legatus Aurelius Rex."

The Magnus Mechanicus stopped, and then the vote was held. Out of one hundred voices, fifty four voted for, and fourty six voted against. Thus, the decision was made. Emissaries, AKA the Triarch Praetoriae themselves, were soon sent across the east, especially to the towns and cities of the NCT and the San Antonio Despotate, warning them of the Legion atrocities along with their presence and the army they've assembled. Augustum calls for their aid.

PostPosted: Thu Mar 29, 2018 11:33 pm
by Dragos Bee
Nathaniel Green

Sedna was now smiling as she and Nathaniel lay together on the small, utilitarian bed, covered only by a thin woolen blanket. "It may not look like it, but it seems that the poster worked. More and more citizens are running scared, especially as the Senate has proclaimed its decision to continue as though nothing has happened. This, despite not taking down that paper showing the history of my tribe's downfall." A smile. "I was also asked about the atrocity by some of the Senate's men; they're scared too. And of course, the increase in military patrols and informers proves that they're scared of the Legion and their spies - rightfully so, right?"

Nathaniel smiled as the warmth of her body melded with his, even as he continued to observe, "They're buying more and more metal and selling less. Same for materials that can be used for war. Food - the dried and smoked kind - is being bought as much as possible; same for purified water and alcohol. They're preparing for a siege." He gave her a peck on the cheek. "It would be important for us to keep watch anyway; Legion Frumentarii are a wily bunch. I had a few lovers among them a while back; made them break Caesar's laws." A chuckle, "Let's just say that I go to a lot of lengths to get what I want."

Sedna chuckled at that, saying, "And what do you want now? To stay in the city? To leave? To continue on east like you wanted to? Or were the feelings you just riled enough? I don't know everything about you and will not ask, but we share the same wish for the Legion to fall - that should be enough."

PostPosted: Fri Mar 30, 2018 12:43 pm
by The Traansval
The Tophat Empire wrote:
The Traansval wrote:Wellingtonne

General Hamish leapt from the small rowboat up onto the dock, his marines joining him while the crew tied them to the pier, Captain Joyce overseeing. He grasped the Officers leather clad hand in his, shaking it while offering the man a salute.

"Well, its very nice to meet you Officer 9823; good to hear that Norfolks reputation extends this far south. Those guns gave us a fright as we got closer, could barely see em until we got close. Here, i bring a peace offering, its a fine wine from my families estate in Virginia Beach along with some fine Virginia Tobacco."

The General offered the small bundle to the man, a smile on his face.

"So, where might be this Honorable Elector? I have very pressing this to discuss."




"She will be with us in a moment, she was in a meeting when you passed into the harbor waters. Our apologies, but we did not fully expect you to turn in and lay anchor, so to say" The officer replied, he had about just done that when the sound of galloping hooves approached, looking down the road leading to the pier, along the waterfront came three horses, spurned on by the spawns of hell itself judging from the speed. It did not take long before they passed the opening in the crowed that had been made, two of the horses had slowed down, and trotted in to a slow stop on the pier. The third horse, whom had led the small group didn't stop the gallop before she absolutely had to, stopping suddenly by realling the horse in in a violent manover, forcing it up on two legs, to do this and remain graceful was the feat of a good rider, and as if to make a point, the rider graceful jumped off the horse, letting one of the soldiers grab the reins and keep it still. Before the officer and general now stood a young lady in a uniform much like the officers, but without the breastplate, and the long coat was much shorter, like a jacket, and seemed to be more form fitted the the soldiers. The gas mask and helmet was also shining with a absence, as where any weapons bar a knife on a belt, seated in a scabbard decorated with shining gold and silver. A graceful and fair face, her clean shoulder long, blond hair like a glowing halo among the black and brown gas masks.

The officer snapped to a short salute, saying "Elector, this is General James Hamish of the State of Norfolk. He says he carries pressing matters for you darling"

The apparent elector looked at the officer and snapping responded "nine-eight-two-three, you know we arent supposed to use words like that while on duty. Now i am a Elector for the Wellingtonne District, and you are Officer nine-eight-two-three" Al tho her words where harsh, her tone and eyes where lovingly towards the masked man. She then turned her gaze to the General, walked up to him, and eyed him closely, she leaned in a bit closer, likely a bit to close for comfort for the man. Before leaning back again, she offer him her hand and spoke, in a more serous tone, befitting a person of responsibility and status "General James Hamish of the State of Norfolk. I am Julia Elinora, Elector of the Wellingtonne District, and Speaker of the Emperor of the Tophat Empire. Pleased to make your acquaintance, i hope that this is the first of many friendly meetings. Officer nine-eight-two-three said that you had a pressing matter on your heart, so lets skip the other formalities and hear what words rest on your Tongue" She said, giving a ever faint smile

Wellingtonne

General Hamish's face remained fixed with a hint of a smile, silently watching the proceeding unfold, analyzing. He noted the Uniforms were very... Odd. This Elector woman wore a similar uniform to that of the Officers and Soldiers, hinting at a fellow Martial Society. This, was very good. Hamish shook the womans hand, giving her a crisp salute.

"Honor to meet you Elector Elinora. I, along with several of my peers have been sent as Representative of Norfolk and its leader, the Esteemed Chairman Alexander B. Hayes. Chairman Hayes called for a Grand Council of leaders and their representatives from nations on the Atlantic Coast. Us Atlantic nations share a common bond through the sea, it brings us trade and food in the form of Fish. Chairman Hayes wishes to create a better sense of unity and cooperation between our nations, to better facilitate trade and perhaps provide for a Common Defense. As such, he has sent me on a mission to deliver an invitation for the Esteemed Emperor of the Tophat Empire or his Representative(s) to sail to Norfolk for the Grand Council."

Norfolk

Lieutenant James Maxson of the Department of Research and development felt uneasy as he walked into the dark room. A single light source was there. It illuminated a single table, a old broken pre-war car and a man in a uniform. The guards escorting him stopped, and turned around as Maxson kept walking. As he drew closer, he could see more details. The uniformed man had a cigar, and was sipping from a glass of whiskey. As he got even closer, the uniformed man turned to look at him.

"Lieutenant, welcome. Take a seat"

Maxson nodded, and shuffled over to sit in the metal chair.

"Lieutenant Maxson, i have a special assignment for you."

He walked over, kicked the husk that was the pre-war car.

"This car, along with the three others in this room, are the only salvaged cars we could find that have intact nuclear fusion cores in them. We want you to reverse engineer these husks, and build us three vehicles for military use. Call them... Armored Cars"

PostPosted: Fri Mar 30, 2018 4:39 pm
by Dragos Bee
Nathaniel Green

It was another two weeks, and Nathaniel Green had acquired a goodly store of caps, made a few reports back to the NCR using his dream-activated implant, and the tract he had written was still on a board on the city square. After work was done, he went to the manager of the steel mill, and asked him, "How much for one of the steel auto-saws? The old tech used by the more skilled workers. Can they be bought from one's employer?"

The manager looked at him suspiciously. "What do you plan to do with it?"

Nathaniel rubbed the back of his head, "Oh, merely tinkering; my father used to be a technical sort of guy back before...you know. So, it seems I can pay for it, right?"

"Hmph," the manager said, "530 Augustum Denariii."

A grin from Nathaniel, who had been about to pay 1000 for the auto-saw. "Thank you," he said as he set down the coins. "Let's make it an even 536."

Timeskip

In Nathaniel's lodgings, an old apartment building that he had paid rent in advance for with the last of the money from helping repair the Zeppelin, the young man would begin tinkering with the auto-saw using some tools he had borrowed from Sedna. He was extra careful, of course; he was naturally un-agile and unlucky. And of course, Sedna insisted on watching the proceedings; she had learned much from her stay in Augustum; mostly technical stuff and the basics of literacy. Somehow, Nathaniel felt he was luckier around her, something that might need to be given more thought. Either way, he ought to be able to complete the auto-axe (an idea he invented on his own), in the next week.

PostPosted: Fri Mar 30, 2018 5:30 pm
by The Tophat Empire
The Traansval wrote:
The Tophat Empire wrote:

"She will be with us in a moment, she was in a meeting when you passed into the harbor waters. Our apologies, but we did not fully expect you to turn in and lay anchor, so to say" The officer replied, he had about just done that when the sound of galloping hooves approached, looking down the road leading to the pier, along the waterfront came three horses, spurned on by the spawns of hell itself judging from the speed. It did not take long before they passed the opening in the crowed that had been made, two of the horses had slowed down, and trotted in to a slow stop on the pier. The third horse, whom had led the small group didn't stop the gallop before she absolutely had to, stopping suddenly by realling the horse in in a violent manover, forcing it up on two legs, to do this and remain graceful was the feat of a good rider, and as if to make a point, the rider graceful jumped off the horse, letting one of the soldiers grab the reins and keep it still. Before the officer and general now stood a young lady in a uniform much like the officers, but without the breastplate, and the long coat was much shorter, like a jacket, and seemed to be more form fitted the the soldiers. The gas mask and helmet was also shining with a absence, as where any weapons bar a knife on a belt, seated in a scabbard decorated with shining gold and silver. A graceful and fair face, her clean shoulder long, blond hair like a glowing halo among the black and brown gas masks.

The officer snapped to a short salute, saying "Elector, this is General James Hamish of the State of Norfolk. He says he carries pressing matters for you darling"

The apparent elector looked at the officer and snapping responded "nine-eight-two-three, you know we arent supposed to use words like that while on duty. Now i am a Elector for the Wellingtonne District, and you are Officer nine-eight-two-three" Al tho her words where harsh, her tone and eyes where lovingly towards the masked man. She then turned her gaze to the General, walked up to him, and eyed him closely, she leaned in a bit closer, likely a bit to close for comfort for the man. Before leaning back again, she offer him her hand and spoke, in a more serous tone, befitting a person of responsibility and status "General James Hamish of the State of Norfolk. I am Julia Elinora, Elector of the Wellingtonne District, and Speaker of the Emperor of the Tophat Empire. Pleased to make your acquaintance, i hope that this is the first of many friendly meetings. Officer nine-eight-two-three said that you had a pressing matter on your heart, so lets skip the other formalities and hear what words rest on your Tongue" She said, giving a ever faint smile

Wellingtonne

General Hamish's face remained fixed with a hint of a smile, silently watching the proceeding unfold, analyzing. He noted the Uniforms were very... Odd. This Elector woman wore a similar uniform to that of the Officers and Soldiers, hinting at a fellow Martial Society. This, was very good. Hamish shook the womans hand, giving her a crisp salute.

"Honor to meet you Elector Elinora. I, along with several of my peers have been sent as Representative of Norfolk and its leader, the Esteemed Chairman Alexander B. Hayes. Chairman Hayes called for a Grand Council of leaders and their representatives from nations on the Atlantic Coast. Us Atlantic nations share a common bond through the sea, it brings us trade and food in the form of Fish. Chairman Hayes wishes to create a better sense of unity and cooperation between our nations, to better facilitate trade and perhaps provide for a Common Defense. As such, he has sent me on a mission to deliver an invitation for the Esteemed Emperor of the Tophat Empire or his Representative(s) to sail to Norfolk for the Grand Council."


"I see, indeed this seems a interesting proposal, but one that i cannot take alone. Follow me, i must inform his lordship the Emperor of this proposal, you are welcome to stay at the seat of government as esteemed guests of myself and my husband." The elector said, looking towards one of her escorts, still seated on the horse, face forward, in perfect posture. "Trooper two-five-nine-six, relay message to the signal corps, and procure another horse for the General, should he wish to stay" she commanded, the rider looked at her for a moment, and from the gasmask clad face came the response "At once Elector" before taking off down the street to spread the words the general had spoken.

The Elector turned back to the general and spoke again "If you so wish to remain here as my guest, he will be back with a horse within a few short minutes", and true enught, a few minutes later of idle talk, the rider returned, this time with two horses. The elector turned back the general, leaned in close, arms clasped behind her back and playful said "Times up general, time to make a decision". This Elector seemed to be a interesting person, to say the least.





The Capital
The Bunker
Central Control Room/Throne Room





The news of the resistance to imperial rule in the Myrtle Beach area had not gone unnoticed, and the leaders of the Empire had gathered to find a solution, or rather, dictate how forceful a solution they would take. They had isolated a likely head quarters as sorts for the tribal force that had caused them such headache. They had crossed the empire, and cot several citizens lives short, negotiation was out of the picture for now. Most of the populations around Myrtle beach did not mind living under imperial control, that had been ensured under months of negations and gift giving. The tribal raids could destabilized the area, if the empire could not protected them like they promised.

The Emperor looked a the map in front of his table, surrounded by military and civilian advisory, he gave the orders. "Ready a company of the army, have them move and scout, and start a siege if they can. Mobilize the entire southern Home Guard Rapid Force and have them march as well, that will make around 300 troops in total. I want word sent to the Union as well, asking for assistance in this matter." he said, and watched as his command staff went about to execute the orders they had bene given

Part 2 - Chapter 1

PostPosted: Fri Mar 30, 2018 6:01 pm
by Absolon-7
Fort Sam Houston

The massive fort was a hive of activity as hundreds of soldiers were beginning to assemble into their groups. During the last few days of January, a courier was sent to the Kingdom of San Marcos, a petty fiefdom on the fringes of San Antonio. There where offered annexation but the offer was refused vehemently. The courier barely made it out the city hall with his life as they were quick to almost imprison him. Naturally such an insult could not be left unanswered and so a declaration of war was made with the same courier heading back but instead of going in he threw a message-in-a-bottle over the walls that stated that war was now upon them.

A spy recently returned with information on the "kingdom". The main city was, obviously, San Marcos and it controlled the villages of Staples, Redwood, Hunter, Zorn, and Martindale. Respectively, they had populations of 3719, 267, 261, 204, 150, and 67. Their levied army totaled 186 militia. Allegedly they were planning on attacking New Braunfels and another crucial piece on information was the mobilization of its vassal, The "Barony" of Seguin. Seguin had a population of 1,672 and had assembled an army of 67 militia. Itself was planning on attacking McQueeny right across the Guadalupe River.

The 2nd Company was to help garrison San Antonio until their men healed up. The 4th Battalion, made up of the 7th and 8th Companies, was to head out to face them in open battle meanwhile the 5th Company was tasked with fighting the Seguin army. The 4th and 6th Squadrons where to accompany the 4th Battalion while the 5th Squadron would backup 6th Company. The Cabinet was confident that the war with San Marcos would be swift and decisive. The Minister of Security had even dubbed it the Valentine's War, showing the great deal of confidence that it would end by Saint Valentine's Day. Nevertheless, no matter what the whims of the upper echelon are, it is certain that there will be blood.

PostPosted: Fri Mar 30, 2018 8:14 pm
by The Manticoran Empire
Washington
Republic of Tennessee

The votes had been cast. Of 166 Delegates, 130 had voted in favor of the New National Army. The word was sent out over the radio and riders dispatched to the major cities to spread the word by flyer. The Army was authorized a strength of 15,000 men, most to be drawn from the existing militia battalions. In fact, they could gather most of the men they needed from those forces. The new army would have 18 Infantry Regiments of 768 men each, 15 Cavalry Squadrons of 65 men, and the remaining 201 soldiers would form the Army's High Command, serving in administrative roles. The remaining militia were informed that they would no longer be required to answer a call to national service and sent home. The additional monies were moved towards funding road construction and repairs. It was hoped that the road building would stimulate the economy and drastically improve the quality of life in the Republic. It was also hoped, particularly by those who were extremely fond of the idea of a single national army, that the army would continue to grow in size and proficiency over the next several years.

This new army required supplies. To this end, seven major arms factories, abandoned after The War, were to be built up to manufacture large quantities of arms and ammunition. Until then, the workshops of the largest cities; Washington, Nashville, Huntsville, Memphis, Chattanooga, Asheville, Atlanta, Birmingham, and Knoxville; would be conscripted to manufacture the requisite equipment. Machine guns, rifles, grenades, laser muskets, grenades, bullets, artillery shells, cannons, mortars, wagons, uniforms. All the items the Army would require would be constructed and issued or stockpiled. If war did come, the Republic would be ready for it.

Monthly Production Quotas
Washington: 500 M1A1s, 100 M3 Machine Guns, 400 Mk. 2 Fragmentation Grenades
Nashville: 100 M2112 Heavy Machine Guns, 100 landmines, 400 Mk. 3 Offensive Grenades, 500 M1A1s
Knoxville: 500 M1A2s, 500 M1A3 Assault Rifles, Munitions (76mm cannon shells for Parrott Rifles, 7.62x51mm rounds)
Chattanooga: 400 Mk. 2 Grenades, Munitions (81mm Mortar rounds, Tritonal Explosives), 20 Laser Muskets
Asheville: 500 M1A1s, 7.62X39mm Ammunition, 500 M57 Pistols
Atlanta: 500 M1A1s, 400 Mk. 3 Offensive Grenades, Munitions (Spare parts, 12.7x99mm, 7.62x51mm), 100 M2112 Heavy Machine Guns
Birmingham: 500 M1A1s, 500 M57 Pistols, Munitions (7.62x51mm and 5.7x28mm ammunition)
Memphis: 500 M1A1s, Munitions (7.62x51mm Rifle Ammunition), 100 M3 Machine Guns
Huntsville: 500 M1A1s, Munitions (Uniforms and Field Kit), 100 M3 Machine Guns
Total: 3,000 M1A1s, 500 M1A2s, 500 M1A3s, 800 Mk. 2 Frags, 800 Mk. 3 Concs, 1,000 M57 pistols, 300 M3 Machine Guns, 200 M2112 Heavy Machine Guns, 20 Laser Muskets.

Clarksville
Republic of Tennessee

One of these Regiments, the 13th Regiment stationed in Clarksville, was given a new set of orders in addition to its new designation. It's orders were to march for Fort Campbell, a journey of about 5 hours. It took the regiment most of the day to organize and set off. They arrived outside the gates of Fort Campbell at dusk and elected to make camp nearby. The following morning, they entered the fort. Much of the fort lay in ruins, though the materials could be a great use. The base was full of military equipment, as well. Suits of power armor, their cores depleted many years ago and their servos ground to dust, stood on racks in several hangars. The armor plates could be useful, and so the soldiers stripped them. They found caches of laser rifles, plasma guns, fusion cells, military training manuals, even a few decrepit vertibirds, not that any of them knew what to do with the latter. They loaded their wagons with as much as they could carry and dispatched a rider to Clarksville. A civilian salvage team would be needed to scrap all of this.

The civilians arrived the next day and promptly set to work. Anything that could be used was cut down in manageable pieces and moved away. Nothing was safe. The hangars, the barracks, even the wrecked Vertibirds were scrapped. The bodies of the soldiers who had once called the base home were stripped of anything that could be useful. The work would likely take months to complete but the results it would yield would be well worth the investment.

PostPosted: Sat Mar 31, 2018 12:41 am
by New Minahasa
Vicksburg, Mississippi

As the Reavers' caravan was spotted on the horizon, armed raiders guarding the entrance quickly alerted each other, unaware of who they were. "Ay, get Snowie's ass over here! We got company!" One of the raiders shouted obnoxiously to his comrade. The guards raised their weapons as the caravaneers, baring the appearance of your average raider, were a mere meters away. "Hold the fuck right there. Who the fuck are you faggots, huh? I've never seen your likes around here, and you don't look like caravaneers yourselves!" The raiders sneered at each other, cursing and pointing guns at each other. "Drop your fucking guns, you idiots! Those guys are our suppliers!" Snowie backhanded the head of one of the raiders.

The guards broke their aim slowly, the others following suit. "Reavers? The heck are you guys doing here? Miss Issippi's not expecting a re-up." Snowie spoke, before they explained what was really going on. She nodded once. "Aight, she'll be waiting for you guys at her place then. You know the way. Go on now." She said, holding onto a bundle of caps in her fist. Miss Issippi was one of Deathshead's commanders, given the responsibility to hold and rule Vicksburg, as well as the southern entrance to what small part of the Mississippi river they hold onto. Her residence was a pre-war hotel turned into a fortress with raiders surrounding the place, acting as a mess hall for some of the raiders as well.

The Reavers were greeted by her right outside of the building. "Snowie told me what's going down. Meet me upstairs at my office." She was straight to the point. Miss Issippi and her bodyguards, along with the Reavers, made their way upstairs. All the floors were filled with raiders, either getting high, drunk, or having an orgy. The occasional slaves could be seen as well. Her office itself was nothing special, with a bed, empty inhalers on the tables, and her collection of guns on the wall. "Talk."

PostPosted: Sat Mar 31, 2018 3:31 pm
by Elerian
The Traansval wrote:-Snip-


Daytona, Norfolk Delegation


The Diplomat, an Alexander Hemsey, had finished his meal and was enjoying the wine the Admiral had offered. Hemsey enjoyed a Spartan lifestyle, but when treating with foreigners he saw fit to indulge a little. He listened intently as the Virginian told him of his people, and of the task he’d been dispatched for. It was easy then, for Hemsey to agree to the proposed conference on behalf of the Commonwealth. It would be impossible for the President to embark on such a journey, leaving the job to Hemsey.

It was settled then. The Norfolk armada would be given enough provisions to get them back to Virginia, and they would take a handful of Commonwealth Diplomats, including Hemsey, and other assorted aides.

* * *


Puertollano wrote:-Snip-


Columbus, Atom Delegation


The Diplomat, Kyle Kay, listened to all the cleric had to say. It was intriguing to say the least. These Atomites were virtually unknown to the Commonwealth. Only a handful of well travelled merchants could give the Gulf officials and clue about who these people were. The merchant’s responses were largely the same, that these were religious fanatics. Beholden to the little understood radiation that had been left behind by the Great War.

It certainly explained their peculiar appearance. Exposure to radiation was known to cause deformities, or in extreme cases transform a person into a Ghoul. It seemed these clerics were well on their way to Ghouldom. It seemed, however, that they were intent on bringing their religion here to the Commonwealth. Such things were seldom good news. Such institutions were unlikely to gain much traction down south in Florida, but up here in Georgia Kay was less certain. The people here were often superstitious, largely because many of the communities were rural and ignorant of the wider world. Kay could certainly see the danger in such a thing, but they would be allowed to buy a building suitable for a Church. That was if they could find someone willing to sell it to them.

On their next request, trade. It was unlikely that merchants would seek an early demise by setting foot in their irradiated capital. Not to mention from their garb, it didn’t seem like they were prosperous enough to offer many goods or services. The Commonwealth held few state monopolies, so trade would likely be conducted by its citizens. That didn’t mean however, that the state wouldn’t take a keen interest on what was being imported or exported.

Their final request was a simple one. A map was an expensive thing to produce, but it wasn’t difficult to procure a handful of cheap maps detailing trade routes, topography, and political boundaries. In exchange the Commonwealth would receive greater details of the lands to their west. Perhaps an unequal bargain, but the Commonwealth was generous to its friends.

With each of these matters covered, the Diplomat bid the clerics adieu so they might bring back word of their meeting to their leader.

* * *

Ashes Ashes, Part Three


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

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

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

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

Dufresne nodded slightly, deep in thought. These were the first casualties of the conflict, but they would surely not be the last. An FOB had been established in Charleston several days prior, and now the majority of the Brigade moved out to take care of the Wildmen. The Wildmen were severely outnumbered, but they knew the area well. However, once they reached their base of operations, that would be the end of the Wildmen.

So now they marched on foot or on horseback, chasing an ever elusive foe.

* * *

Eutopia


It was a calamity. They had found a plot of land so fertile as to solve the problem of the influx of people into Weston. But who other than strange and brutish mutants would stand in their way of their destiny manifested. This of course neglected the fact that the mutants had built this veritable paradise for themselves. How could such ugly creatures create something so beautiful? It was a question that was likely to go unanswered as the nearby Army Corps descended on the compound. The area was cordoned off until further instruction was given.

It should come as no surprise that when orders finally arrived, they were to purge the mutant elements from the compound. In what may later be seen as a regrettable incursion, the 6th Army Corps pounced on the ill prepared Mutants.

From the perspective of some, it was a righteous action. Why should some half wit mutants have this land while Commonwealth children starve? Others might see it as a necessary evil, something that had would have happened one way or another. A few, including President Caldwell, saw it as abominable. No attempts had been made to peacefully resolve the conflict. It was kept quiet that many of the mutants either refused to fight and were killed where they stood, or they fought meekly with farming equipment.

In the end, the mutants were dead, and a few days later a new settlement had been established in its stead.

* * *

Better Dead than Red


It had been easier to get a cell into the Union than any other nation. The People's Union showed their true face to their own people, the Committee for State Security proved their malevolence. The Union kept its existence under wraps, but the people knew. People didn’t go missing in droves for no reason. The government must have been desperate, for a secret police force to be so necessary to the State’s success. The fear made it easy to arrange the cell's arrival.

They masqueraded as prospectors and mechanics, carrying tools and their work visas with them as they arrived. The Immigration Department was eager to let them through with little hesitation. At this point, the state wanted as many skilled workers as they could get for their new recycling plant. So, people who showed up for the salvaging and recycling occupation even got themselves some approving looks, respect even, from the underclasses, and a tolerance from the upper ones.

The Union was a perfect target to infiltrate: dissent and poverty. Neither were fully present, at least not yet. The government was doing a reasonable job of supplying most of the populace with essentials, but it wasn’t enough. Centralized governments were always inefficient. There were even pamphlets circulating, tucked away from the prying eyes of Commissars. They reported on the northern rebellion. Closer to the front you would find families who grieved and cursed the government.

The rebels had been put down, but the resentment would remain. It would fester until finally, blinded by fury, they would lash out again. Or the resentment would simmer to nothing. It was up to the cell to ensure that the former became a reality. It was these people who attracted the cell’s gaze. Those who turned to religion and activism to channel away their grief and hardship. They were people who wanted to make a difference or find solace in a world where there was none, and so this particular cell was sent to spread the Commonwealth’s influence and keep tabs on the Union.

* * *

A Rude Welcome


The Appalachian region was a queer place, home to even queerer people. A man of the Commonwealth, a place far to the South, had come to this place seeking its people. There were tales even as far as the Gulf of men who worshipped Moths and other idols. They were rumors, but the more that the man saw of the place, the more he believed them. He’d travelled hundreds of miles to this god forsaken land on behalf of the Commonwealth. He had hoped it would be worthwhile, but shortly after he crossed into the lands that were purported to be inhabited by the Moth people he’d been kidnapped.

It had happened so quickly he’d scarcely been able to defend himself. A handful of men had thrown a sack over his head and restrained his hands. He was carried a short ways and deposited in a cell. After a time he was taken from the cell and placed in a wooden chair. In what might have been a scene from an old Bond film, he found himself in a small grey room with only a table and two chairs.

* * *

Port Canaveral Shipyards


The site of the large shipyard contained a number of specialised cranes, dry docks, slipways, dust-free warehouses, painting facilities and a yard for the fabrication of ships. Teams of men swarmed the area as construction on three new ships began. The trio of new warships were to be 28 gun ships of the line. The need for an expanded Navy had been on the mind of the budgeting committee for sometime, but something had often gotten in the way. The approval of their construction had come several months prior, and with the funds gathered, construction could begin. It would take thousands of men, tens of thousands of man hours, and several years to complete the project.

There were few naval competitors to the Commonwealth, but the rise of the Raiders in the Keys would likely prove the need of these new ships. Not to mention the need for a more proactive coastal defense. It would now be within their ability to better protect their own coastlines, and possibly project their influence further still.

* * *

To Whom it May Concern


A pair of wagons ambled their way to the edge of town. Their journey had been long, but their destination was within sight. Hundreds of miles had been crossed so that what was contained within the wagons could be in the right hands. But now, whether that occured or not was in the hands of fate alone.

Darkness fell over the road that the wagons creaked down. Their contents were meant for the local despots, but they wouldn’t be handed over so easily, that would mean too many questions. The men that led the wagons stopped under a faded old world stop sign and tied off the reins. Their job had been completed, and now they would have to make the long trek back home on foot.

Within one wagon lay weapons and explosives enough to arm over a hundred men. In the second wagon was enough munitions to supply those men for weeks worth of campaigning. It was in the hands of the local soldiers to find the weapons. Tracing the weapons back to their origin would prove difficult considering these guns lacked serial numbers or the name of a manufacturer. Care had been taken to ensure these guns couldn’t be traced. It was a gift. A Gift that would remain anonymous.