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Damn Dirty South IC

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United Human Planets
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Damn Dirty South IC

Postby United Human Planets » Wed Jul 13, 2016 4:46 pm

OOC: viewtopic.php?f=31&t=382193&p=29182748&hilit=Damn+Dirty+South#p29182748
RULES
Do I really need to say it? No god-modding.
No meta-gaming
Please try and use correct grammar and spelling. I'm not a Grammar Nazi, minor mistakes can be forgiven, just try to correct your major mistakes before you post
Unless your character is speaking, no one liners.
And, last but certainly not least, don't be an ass. No one likes that guy, so try not to be him.

OP: United Human Planets

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THE DAMN DIRTY SOUTH


THE STATE OF THE REGION
The lands of Louisiana and Mississippi are not a kind place. While the entirety of postwar United States is undoubtedly cruel and violent, the lands commonly known as the Bayou Wastelands are well known all across the south eastern United States for being best described as eerie. With two nations in competition for the Mississippi river, and the trade it would offer, most of life is punctuated by violence, as each side engages in the many scuffles and firefights that are always breaking out between soldiers firing at one another across the river. The near constant fear of invasion by the opposing force, and the eye for an eye tactics used has led the culture of the Bayou Wasteland to be that of a culture of honor.

One nation is the New Start Republic, a nation spreading outwards from the ruins of Lafayette. A small alliance of family's was what helped to create the nation, and now their capital is famous for its hospitable people and upswing in gentrification. Commanded by a committee of the 12 most important family's in the town, presided over by Sally Jean Angel, the matriarch of the Angel family, the oldest and most well respected family in the nation. However, while the nation likes to hold up a facade of the gentry culture of pre war south, it is widely known that they did not gain their power through civilized means. Much of the power was built by an alliance of moonshiners and jet cooks, who banded together to protect themselves from the raiders and rivals they had made in the world. The city's they controlled quickly became cushy and posh, but the country did not, continuing in its sketchy dealings. While the rich family's of the city's like to pretend they had nothing to do with the drug addled beginning of their nation, it has nonetheless made the leaders shrewd and cunning in conflict, making the New Start Republic a formidable enemy.

Soon the economy that the New Start Republic had built on moonshine and drugs brought them to the most obvious choice to distribute their exports to a wide variety of people, the Mississippi River. This brought them into contact with another nation, the Jackson Confederacy. The Confederacy had been built by farmers, a people who believed highly in the ideals of hard work. The begging of the Confederacy was the defeat of a large raider army that had moved into the region from Alabama, and were terrorizing the local farmers. Soon the biggest land barons, mostly in control of large cotton farms, brought their mercenary army's together to fight the threat, which culminated in the Battle Of Jackson, and led to the creation of the Jackson Confederacy. While most of the major Land Barons of the land are relatively free, they all swear fealty to Jackson, and commit their troops whenever the nation is under threat.

The hard working and conservative farming culture of the Jackson Confederacy contrasted sharply with the tricky and patchy belief systems and history of the New Start Republic. The moonshiners and the cotton farmers soon began to come into conflict over who could use the Mississippi River for their trading, and blood feuds began to form. Soon the two nations had to move their respective army's to the River to pacify the feuding family's. Both nations wanted to use the River as well though, and despite treaty's being made to make the river accessible by both nations, taunting between the two military's began to turn into brawls, and eventually firefights, with neither government doing anything to stop it, hoping that the other will give up on the river and leave.

The tales of the insanity and anarchy that permeates the Bayou Wasteland has also been heard of to the north, on the Great Plains. These story's of cold war and fear have prompted the Brotherhood Of Steel to act, moving soldiers into the region in an effort to try and pacify the anger that is so common throughout the area, but they have mostly been met with derision, being seen as interlopers on affairs that don't concern them. However, the Brotherhood still hopes to bring peace to the land. Little did they know though that along with them, their enemy's, the Enclave, were following behind.

Despite the hostility that run so deep between the people of the region, there is one thing that the people can agree on. Whatever is happening in New Orleans, or as it is called in the vernacular of the post war wold, Nor-Leans, is not good. Although it is not known by many outside of the city states population exactly what goes on there, due to the city being heavily flooded by the sea, there are tales of a culture of violence and debauchery, a people obsessed with pleasure, and led by strange cults of voodoo and extreme Catholicism. While the city had been a mainstay in many of the ghost story parents would tell their children at night, the frightening people there never would leave their flooded home, buying most of their supply's from the traders who would sail up from Mexico. But now, as the situation in the Bayou Wasteland becomes more and more tense, story have begun to circulate about Nor-Leanians being seen in the forests and swamps, spying on soldiers, or family hearing scratching in the night, only to find black hand prints on their doors.



The sun was beginning to set in the pale Bayou Wasteland sky, and as it did it seemed to make the land even more humid than it was normally. To the east in Louisiana, the cities of the New Start Republic were begging to settle, as the many rich family took time to sit and rest, to talk to one another about their days, and most importantly, drink sweet tea and whiskey. The more humble denizens of the Republic still moved about though, as they doused fires, and moved barrels of Moonshine and boxes of Jet, getting everything set up for the next days work and trade. Across the Mississippi the people of the Confederacy did as they preferred to do, worked. Fields were tilled, cotton was harvested and seeds were planted. On both small farms and large plantations alike, the people of the Confederacy worked to keep their crops growing. To the north, The Brotherhood's officers were convening in a large tent to discuss the appearance of the Enclave in the region, and what it may mean for their operations in the Bayou Wasteland. The Enclave in turn sent scouts to view the Brotherhood base, and to see what could be seen of this hot and humid place. Along the Mississippi River soldiers from the Confederacy and the Republic shouted and cursed at one another. Traders from the Confederacy and the Republic pressed together on the docks along the river, trying to get the upper hand in selling, and making excuses to bump each other and trip one another, and all to frequently in bars, on the docks, or even back and forth between two traders boats fist fights would break out between them. Soldiers would try to break up the fights, but they didn't really care, they wanted to see the other side beaten up just as much as those throwing punches.

But too the south, a catalyst was forming. A group of boats was coming to a halt on the marshy, wet shoreline of Louisiana, from the flooded city of Nor-Leans. As they came to a halt, the people in the boats hefted slapped together pipe rifles, spears made from shredded metal, machetes, and other instruments of violence. They were dressed in strange and frightening clothing, with tattered shirts made from the skin of... something, and fish bones hanging from their hair and strange talismans and nick knacks on their belts and around their necks. They all had painted their faces white, giving them a spectral, skeletal look about them, as if they had not a fear in the world. And they didn't, they only knew that the shamans of their cult in Nor-Leans told them to kill, and so they would kill. Not far from where their boats had landed, a town was begging to get ready for sleep, neither under the flag of the New Start Republic or the Jackson Confederacy. They were vulnerable, and alone, and the Nor-Leanians knew this. They began to move inland, planning to do harm.

Theme Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RrxePKps87k
Last edited by United Human Planets on Wed Jul 20, 2016 4:56 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Postby United Human Planets » Wed Jul 13, 2016 9:11 pm

Jimmy Barrow stepped off of his boat and onto the docks, a large patchwork of wood that had been built from either side of the Mississippi river and around an old, wrecked riverboat. Traders and buyers from both the New Start Republic and the Jackson Confederacy moved to and fro about the riverboat centerpiece of the docks, carrying things and arguing and the like. Jimmy looked up into the sky, and saw the hot Louisiana sun getting lower in the sky, before pulling his hat down lower over his eyes and moving forward into the crowed, closer to the Republic side of the trading, where there was more drugs and alcohol than produce and otherwise more moral wares to be sold. An old 45 caliber revolver bounced on his leg as he moved, and his heavy work boots made a powerful thumping noise on the wood as he walked. He projected a confidence that seemed to separate the crowed in front of him as he made his way forward to where he was going to meet his brother and business partner, Seth.

Two Republic soldiers yelled insults over the river as a group of Confederacy soldiers could be seen harassing a Republican moonshine trader. Jimmy looked over at them briefly to see what al the commotion was about, but moved on after a couple of seconds, and sat down on a stool at the counter of a small, open air bar on the Republican side of the docks owned by an old ghoul named Georgia.

"Well, good afternoon to you, sweetheart? How have you been these past few weeks?"

"I've been doing real good, Georgia, and yourself?" He responded, his voice deep and warm, and positively dripping with southern charm and twang.

"I've been doing great, business has been up, and I have been sleeping like a baby these past few days. Couldn't be better!" She turned around and quickly grabbed a clean cup from behind her, before turning back to Jimmy and saying, "What can I get ya, the usual I would imagine?"

"The usual would be great Georgia," He said. She poured him a beer, before placing it in front f him and moving on to serve a second costumer who had sat down on the other end of the bar. Jimmy spun himself around so he could watch the different people move to and fro around him. He stayed there for a little while, sipping on his beer and people watching, until a pair of Confederacy traders walked by him, carrying a bale of cotton, talking between the two about the sightings of Nor-Leanians near some of the outlying towns in the area, and when they saw him, they gave him a dirty look, before the one closer to him hawked a big ol loogie, which he spat at Jimmy's feet.

Jimmy smacked his beer down on the bar, before standing and looking the two Confederates in the eye and say "Now, just what the hell did you do that for?" Despite the friendly nature of what he said, there was a very distinct malice in the words that he said.

The two traders stopped walking, and turned to face him, and the one who had done the spitting said, "I simply dont like damn Republicans like yourself is all."

"Oh ho!" Said Jimmy. "And why would that be?" He had stepped closer, so that him and the two traders were barley and inch apart. They were both taller than Jimmy, but he was to pissed to care.

"Cause," said the second trader, "All you damn Republicans do is stink up the rive that should rightfully by ours, you fucking scum."

"Well, bless your little heart," Said Jimmy, "You know why the river aint yours?"

"Why?" Spat the first trader, "Cause our nation felt pity on yours, and said it was only fair you people get a fair shot at making a life for yourselves, even if you people are intent on squandering the chances we gave you."

"No," Said Jimmy, stepping back, "Its cause we aint afraid to fuck some shit up! that's why!" And with that he pulled his pistol from its holster and pointed it at the two traders, who had dropped their cotton and ran off in the opposite direction, yelling about crazy republicans. "Yeah, and dont you come back now, you hear!" Jimmy continued, and then a chair hit him in the back, as a third Confederate stood up to fight him, before a second Republican smashed her mug of been into his face. And before anyone had time to stop it, the riverboat quickly devolved into massive brawl.

Jimmy let a big smile spread across his face as a Confederate ran up and tried to hit him with a chair leg, only for Jimmy to pistol whip him in the face, before letting out a triumphant whoop, and throwing himself into the melee.

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Tayner
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Postby Tayner » Fri Jul 15, 2016 1:12 pm

Mississippi River

The small Confederate Flagged boat pulled alongside of the Riverboat where the brawl had taken place. No more than half a dozen mercenaries under the local baron's payroll. One man, a Lieutenant, stepped off the boat and fired his .50 caliber pistol into the air, stopping the brawl and causing everyone to look his way. He holstered the gun before speaking, his baritone of a voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Everyone, quit this bullshit." He said before five of his men boarded the boat, and restrained some of the Confederate soldiers who participated in the brawl. "Now everyone get back to whatever you were doing and don't make me have to come back here, damn it!" He yelled as many people got to their feet. Brawls like this were becoming more common, and the only reason he stopped it was because some of his soldiers were in the fight, and he didn't want to be the commander who let his men start a war.

After a short boat ride, the mercenaries docked at a peer near one of their camps. 11 men disembarked the boat, five restrained in handcuffs. They marched to the camp, where the lieutenant gathered everyone. The men were curious why some of their fellow mercenaries were bound and restrained in the center of the camp, and soon the Lieutenant quieted the men gathered around him.

"These men here took part in a brawl with some republic assholes.' He said, some of the men almost cheering. "We don't need to start shit, that's not what we're being paid for. Anyone who instigates, or takes part in a brawl, will have disciplinary action against him. As in your contracts, that you all willingly signed, I sentence each of these men to five lashings, and a dock in half their pay for this month. Everyone understand the consequences of their actions?" He said.

As he walked away, his second in command started whipping the culprits, hearing the screams of pain as he walked away. Now he had to inform the baron of this, and he was going to be pissed. He wrote a letter detailing the situation, the punishment, and the men who violated the peace, and gave it to one of his men, a courier, and sent it back to the baron's home. He was sure he was going to get a strongly worded letter back.
If anyone askes where we were Saturday at 14:30, we were at The Pub, understand?

-If it's stupid, but it works, it ain't stupid.
-No Combat Ready unit has ever passed inspection.
-No Inspection Ready unit has ever passed combat.
-There is nothing more satisfying to you then having the enemy shoot at you, and miss.
-Remember, your weapon was made by the lowest bidder.
Disclaimer: The sig is out of date and I probably won't update it

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Kelmet
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Postby Kelmet » Fri Jul 15, 2016 7:59 pm

Below the deck of Georgia's Bar, in the middle of the bar fight.
Interrogation post 1A

Sitting across the table from Conner was his prisoner, who after a day's of intermittent interrogation was fluttering on the line of conciseness.
"You know, I really wish I didn't have to do this.." Conner broke the silence with his soothing tone, his words only being met by the prisoners cold unblinking eyes " If you were an initiate or maybe even a knight I wold have taken my time, convinced you that you are on the wrong side I've done it before but you Paladins....Are fanatical in your mission to destroy us."

"Fuck you!" The prisoner yelled at him, forcing Conner to flip the control switch, sending a powerful electronic current threw his body, the prisoner fell back in his chair, quietly beginning to cry.

"Look paladin I don't want to keep this going any more than you do but I need your help, I need what ever information you can tell me." Placing a recorder on the table, then reaching slowly across the table and laying his hand on the prisoners. "Please friend, let us help each other" Meeting the prisoners eye's with a kind smile.

Nodding slightly the man leaned forward " I don't know much, but I'll tall you what I can.."

"Good" Conner pleasantly answered, standing and leaving the room.

Entering the side door was a slightly bigger room, with few enclave personnel. "Good work sir, the boy's that snagged him had him for a week couldn't get shit."

"See that he get's attended to and sent to Corney, I have people there that can continue my work with time we can turn him, I look forward to the challenge. Tell HQ I will be in touch."

"Yes Sir." Conner straightened his jacket then moved to the secure door between the outpost and a stairwell that led up to Georgia's bar.

Conner nodding his head to Georgia as he took a seat at the bar, who in turn brought him what he always had a small glass of moonshine.

As the slow burn worked its way down his throat he worked threw his strategy along this stretch of the Mississippi, It would be a while before the Brotherhood had any significant presence this far south so as always time is a very rare commodity for the Enclave, if they did not gain enough of a power base here then it would be yet another area of America locked of to her children. His most recent report to HQ would have recommendation that Enclave proper fallow Intelligence's lead and start integrating into there ranks ghoul's into there ranks, ending decades of racism using the example of Georgia, who has been so helpful to intelligence's efforts in gathering information and conducting missions in this area of the Bayou wasteland, and to what seemed like common sense to Monroe at east that some ghoul's may actually remember the united states.

As he downed his second shot of shine and laid his payment on the bar (not for his drink's but as monthly payment to Gerogia for "rent") in witch she quickly moved it out of sight. Tonight however he would have to give the mayor of this border town a visit.
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The New Sea Territory
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Ex-Nation

Postby The New Sea Territory » Fri Jul 15, 2016 8:47 pm

Lafayette

The setting sun's light, like last gasps for air, punctured the clouds overhead with a reddish pink glow. The sunshine, blazing down through the clouds like shattered glass, reflected off Eirwyn's burnt skin, making him almost appear like a glowing one from up close. If it were any hotter, he thought, his skin might burst into flames, toasting his dusty drifter's outfit and igniting the worn fedora, tilted to one side, that covered his bald skull. His fiery complexion caught the Republican guard ironically off-guard. Taken aback by the irregular ghoulified man standing before him, the rifleman didn't respond to Eirwyn's request. It's as if he was staring straight into the sun, and slowly blinding himself. Eirwyn, now closer, asked again, but such a hideous figure, yet so unlike anything else the soldier had seen around these parts that he couldn't look away. He couldn't free himself from the daze he was so hopelessly caught in.

"You gonna open the fucking door or what? I've got shit to do."

The smoothskin guard shook himself out of the ghoul-induced daze and nodded, opening the door to Lafayette. Red slid a couple caps to the horrified minuteman, who returned to his post with a sigh of relief, as if the air around him cooled ten degrees, the weight such a glaring figure on his eyes had been lifted, and he had turned his gaze away from the sun.

This is what Red had to deal with: gawkers, endless stares, asking things a few times, children being told to look away. Never did anyone say anything to him, but he always got the impression. It's as if he was the lone actor on a stage, his burnt skin a Shakespearean soliloquy, his life the most gut-wrenching of tragedies. All of mankind sat on the edge of their seat, left speechless by such a wondrous and angst-ridden performance. At least, that's what he told himself.

The crimson thief looked around the streets of Lafayette. Too long away from home, he thought for a moment, before recalling the terms under which he left. In reality, this was not his home, but a new world living on the ashes of his old one. He was drawn to the rotting carcass of a city they occupied, but alienated from the new surroundings and overwhelming crowds that moved in during his time away from the urban old world. This contradiction of nostalgia and disgust disoriented him, until he lacked any internal coherence and stood, staring at a park he used to play at as a kid, now occupied with rotten green tents and pitiful gardens.

He threw off the shackles of this distraction, buried his mixed emotions about the current state of the town, and retreated into the comfort of materialism: He looked around for a vendor to unload his backpack of expropriated scrap electronics.
Last edited by The New Sea Territory on Fri Jul 15, 2016 9:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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of darkness with mystically brutal fury to dim the serene and festive exultation of the dionysian spirit of our pagan ancestors."
-Renzo Novatore, Verso il Nulla Creatore

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Ebyrron
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Ex-Nation

Postby Ebyrron » Sat Jul 16, 2016 11:23 am

13 Miles Southeast of Lafayette
The Wasteland

Coah released his grip upon the arrow. It sailed over about twenty yards, whistling gently in it's flight before being embedding in the crunchy, yielding flesh of a large Bloatfly. He shouldered his bow and jogged through the tall weeds, going lightly here and there in his moccasins, leaving barely trace nor path to tell of his going. Coah paused, peering slowly and thoughtfully at his surroundings. Seemingly satisfied, he yanked the arrow free and wiped the thing's guts from the head and shaft before placing it in an ornate green and brown quiver on his back, a gift from his mother.

The sun beat relentlessly upon the Earth, and the sparse amount of trees here did nothing to shield him, but Coah's skin was an earthy brown, almost red, and tough from many years exposed to it's rays. He didn't eat Bloatflys. They were just unpleasant, and he hunted them for sport. He turned back the way he had come and walked into the swamp. That's when he smelled it.

Smoke.

He broke from his walk into a sprint, agile, his steps finding not mud or water but firm, cool, mossy earth. After a time the smoke became thicker and
he could hear the greedy crackle of flames. He emerged from the swamp into a smoky grove, at the home he had been born in, where his mother had raised him. Where she had died many years ago, leaving Coah as the sole surviving member of the little family that had once dwelt there.

The house collapsed as he gazed at it, sending a knife of grief into Coah's belly which he immediately suppressed. The shed where he kept his dry stock was gone, a smoking ruin. He quickly ran to the empty brahmin pen where one of the beast's corpses lay, blood coagulating around both of it's large heads. The throat was a ragged ruin. Someone had hacked at it many times, but they apparently weren't able to cut through the thing's thick spine. Someone had tacked a note into it's side.

Moonshiners, he thought. The barely legible scrawl was indicative of the hillbilly creatures that plagued the swamps Coah called his home.

we was goin to kill you but you was gon so we burned yur house down instead
yur thievin days is over swamp rat


Coah stood and turned to watch the flames, his dark eyes solemn. Perhaps, in the end, he had earned this. Regardless, he was no longer safe in the swamps. He was about four hours outside of Lafayette. His father and mother had met there, before he was a drunk and she an old, sad woman. He took one last look at the flaming ruins of his old home, and turned his back on that chapter of his life.
Last edited by Ebyrron on Sat Jul 16, 2016 12:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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The New Sea Territory
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Postby The New Sea Territory » Sat Jul 16, 2016 5:57 pm

Lafayette

The rusted door slammed behind the ghoul as he walked in. All of the windows of this Red Rocket filling station had been shattered long ago, to the point where most of the broken glass left in the door or frames was already knocked out. These pores in the side of the structure allowed the wind to carry dust in with every passing breeze, leaving an ever growing brownish cover on the tile floor near the front of the gas station. The elderly lady before Eirwyn stood hunched over, picking up a dustpan full of this filth before throwing it out the window, grabbing her broom leaning against the wall, and turning to her new customer.

"Looking to sell something, ghoul?"

Eirwyn took off his fedora and backpack, answering the woman, "Yes, I've got an entire backpack of scrap electronics, willing to trade for some caps and water."

"Let me see what you have," she said, gesturing to unload the backpack on the counter in the back. The two walked back there, and she alerted Red, "We have no purified water right now. My shipment hasn't come in. Will you take irradiated?"

"Irradiated is better," Eirwyn replied, emptying the bag. The woman stared at the contents, before declaring, "that's worth about fifty caps. I'll give you thirty and two bottles of water". Eirwyn nodded, and she walked into the back room to get the caps and bottles.

Eirwyn turned around immediately, and scanned the dusty room. No amount of sweeping would fix this mess, he thought, but purged that observation from his mind, scolding himself that she would be back soon. Quick, bag something valuable, he thought. The dull colors of her shop, made so dull with layers of sand and dirt, obscured the sure signs of a item to lift: expensive, dark colored, small and not fragile. Peering through boxes of old sugar bombs, dust and nuka cola bottles, he saw it: a worn, silvery metal object sitting alone on the end of the shelf. He lunged silently for it and found it to be as silent as he was: a silent .22 pistol, along with a few .22 rounds. He threw the shady pistol in his bag, pocketed the bullets, then instinctively threw a few boxes of sugar bombs into his backpack as well.

He slid back to his position at the counter, backpack zipped up, as she returned with his caps and water bottles. "Thanks, come again!" she said, as he left in a hurry.

On to the next shop, he thought.
| Ⓐ | Anarchist Communist | Heideggerian Marxist | Vegetarian | Bisexual | Stirnerite | Slavic/Germanic Pagan | ᛟ |
Solntsa Roshcha --- Postmodern Poyltheist
"Christianity had brutally planted the poisoned blade in the healthy, quivering flesh of all humanity; it had goaded a cold wave
of darkness with mystically brutal fury to dim the serene and festive exultation of the dionysian spirit of our pagan ancestors."
-Renzo Novatore, Verso il Nulla Creatore

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Ebyrron
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Ex-Nation

Postby Ebyrron » Sat Jul 16, 2016 11:12 pm

Lafayette

"You'll be needin' a lighter, then?"

Coah shook his head and handed the man a fistful of caps before he swiped the pack of cigarettes off of the grimy counter. Outside of the little general store, he paused to take a wrinkled cigarette from it's pack, drawing a pack of matches from a satchel at his side to light it. He inhaled deeply, trying to savor the old stale taste of the tobacco. He deposited the matches back in their place and drew a bottle of clear, sparkling water which he drank greedily in the shade of the shop. Somewhere in the distance he heard the baying of old hound dogs.

Coah was soaked with sweat from the trek to Lafayette, and truth be told he was unfamiliar with the place. He disliked the cozy, posh merchants who peddled their moonshine and their jet, and he harbored no love for the Republic's soldiers. Lafayette was not without it's charms, though. The women who passed him by gave him timid smiles, and when he inclined his head, a few would blush.

After a time, Coah flicked the cigarette away into the dust and strolled through the streets of Lafayette as the baked the city. Eventually he found a pub with a free room, the Riverside Brewery. After bargaining with the proprietor, Coah was able to negotiate free room and board so long as he served at the bar, and a provided a portion of his catch whenever he went hunting to augment the cook's stores.

Coah ordered roasted Brahmin for supper, and ate his meal solemnly at the bar, drinking from his own stash of purified water. After he was finished, Coah lit another cigarette, gazing lazily at the place's customers. Most of them seemed high on Jet, or some other chem. And then he glimpsed a familiar face at a table near the back of the inn. Coah pushed away the scraps of Brahmin and moved to a closer seat so he could hear their conversation.

"--done burned the swamp rat from his nest. You know how much corn for our mash that gawdam injun stole in the last two weeks alone? Too gawdam much, George. Too gawdam much."

George replied, "They find 'em yet?"

"Nah, but Ricky and his cousins are searchin the swamps with the hounds. They got their shit back but they want blood."

Coah smirked and exhaled twin tendrils of hazy blue smoke from his nostrils.

"He's quick though, aint he? Quiet, too. And he is good with that bow of his." George sounded unsure.

"Fuck that. We got rifles and steel. That fuckin' rat is gonna pay."

These are my new neighbors. Peddlers, chem-heads, and trussed up savages.

Coah continued to eavesdrop on the mens' conversation, but they eventually changed the subject. He wondered if he should make his way across the river, to the Jackson Confederacy. Perhaps not even Lafayette would be safe, for now.

Somewhere in the distance, the sound of the baying Hounds could be heard, but it didn't register with Coah. The hounds had found his trail.
Last edited by Ebyrron on Sat Jul 16, 2016 11:17 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Intermountain States
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Capitalist Paradise

Postby Intermountain States » Wed Jul 20, 2016 11:39 am

Mississippi River, Confederate Camp

It was a nice sunny day for Lieutenant Drew Brenner to lounge at the camp, reading an intact pre-war book and his Confederate cap resting at his side. He never had this sort of peace to enjoy ever since he was deployed to the Mississippi River by the higher ups to bolster Jackson's defenses across the river. Unlike his time in Camp Shelby near Hattiesburg where it was mostly peaceful minus occassional raider assaults that were easily beaten back, the situation at the River always seem to be a powder keg, waiting to blow up (or whatever pre-war slang used to describe such situations). There's always a shootout or a fistfight started by some trigger-happy jackass thinking that harassing a merchant or a soldier is a good idea. Every day, Brenner disciplines his platoon to ensure that his men won't try to start a war between two countries. Every day, he attend patrols with members of his platoon in order to prevent his insubordinate from getting drunk and start punching a New Start Moonshiner just the laughs. Times like this is a luxury for Brenner and he's planning to enjoy what peace he has.

Of course, knowing that this is the border, his peace ended a rather too quickly when Corporal Ed Chang ran up to him. "Sir, orders from the Colonel. A bar fight has erupted and he needs a squad to handle the situation." He exclaimed. Brenner sighed and put the book in his pouch.

"Gather 3 men and have them ready to move out into the bar to end it. The last thing we need is the incident to spill out and turn into a fucking war," Brenner commanded as he holstered his 10 mm pistol and put on his cap. As the soldiers gathered around him with their respective gears and weapons, Brenner grabbed his automatic rifle and lead the squad to the anchored riverboat. Before entering, the bar, he motioned the troops to get into formation and ordered Chang to scout the boat the see if the bar is still in a middle of a fight.

"Uh sir," Chang replied as he made it to Brenner. "It appears that the fighting had stopped." Just when Chang said that, the men noticed a Confederate lieutenant leading a small group of men, some in handcuffs, out of the boat.

"Looks like the situation is already cleared up," Brenner said to his men, some breathing a sigh of relief. "Let's head to the camp and hope a war didn't start."
I find my grammatical mistakes after I finish posting
"A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed"
Lunatic Goofballs wrote:I'm a third party voter. Trust me when I say this: Not even a lifetime supply of tacos could convince me to vote for either Hillary or Trump. I suspect I'm not the only third party voter who feels that way. I cost Hillary nothing. I cost Trump nothing. If I didn't vote for third party, I would have written in 'Batman'.

If you try to blame me, I will laugh in your face. I'm glad she lost. I got half my wish. :)
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Postby United Human Planets » Wed Jul 20, 2016 5:02 pm

Jimmy sat hunched over the bar at the river boat, nursing a freshly chipped tooth and a wicked crack to the side of his head. He wore a scruffy black stetson cowboy hat, but the right half of it had been ripped partly off in the fight, leaving it floppy and giving him the look of a cartoon character. He pressed a beer to his head, trying to do away with the lump that was forming there, and occasionally he leaned over and spat a little stream of blood into the tin can by his feet.

"Damn fucking republicans," he muttered to himself when a pair of farmers walked by, hauling their bales of cotton over their shoulders. One of them heard him and gave him a dirty look, but kept walking. Jimmy straightened up, and looked over the railing to his boat. It was hard to see in the large snarl of wood and random metal that made up the docks, but he found it. 4 big barrels rested on its deck. there were many more on the other end of the boat, but their were empty. The four he was looking at were filled with moonshine, and he was worried someone might try to steal them.

Jimmy sighed, and slumped back over the bar. At the other end was a well to do looking pair of women, and he glanced over at them. They saw him looking in their direction, and he winked. The younger of the two smiled back, but the older woman nudged her companion, and said, "We dont fraternize with people like that. No class."

Jimmy scrunched his face, and gave the older woman a look. "You know I can hear you, right lady?" he said.

"I would hope you can. It might remind you to make yourself more presentable."

"I think I look plenty presentable myself," he said. Jimmy flashed a big smile, showing off his bloodied teeth. He pushed his hat back, and the town brim flopped about. The woman gave him a look, and he saw the younger of the two stifle a giggle. Jimmy looked down the other end of the bar, to where there was a man wearing a nice jacket, handing a little bag of caps to Georgia. "What about you sir? You think I look presentable?"

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Postby Kelmet » Thu Jul 21, 2016 3:53 pm

United Human Planets wrote:Jimmy sat hunched over the bar at the river boat, nursing a freshly chipped tooth and a wicked crack to the side of his head. He wore a scruffy black stetson cowboy hat, but the right half of it had been ripped partly off in the fight, leaving it floppy and giving him the look of a cartoon character. He pressed a beer to his head, trying to do away with the lump that was forming there, and occasionally he leaned over and spat a little stream of blood into the tin can by his feet.

"Damn fucking republicans," he muttered to himself when a pair of farmers walked by, hauling their bales of cotton over their shoulders. One of them heard him and gave him a dirty look, but kept walking. Jimmy straightened up, and looked over the railing to his boat. It was hard to see in the large snarl of wood and random metal that made up the docks, but he found it. 4 big barrels rested on its deck. there were many more on the other end of the boat, but their were empty. The four he was looking at were filled with moonshine, and he was worried someone might try to steal them.

Jimmy sighed, and slumped back over the bar. At the other end was a well to do looking pair of women, and he glanced over at them. They saw him looking in their direction, and he winked. The younger of the two smiled back, but the older woman nudged her companion, and said, "We dont fraternize with people like that. No class."

Jimmy scrunched his face, and gave the older woman a look. "You know I can hear you, right lady?" he said.

"I would hope you can. It might remind you to make yourself more presentable."


"I think I look plenty presentable myself," he said. Jimmy flashed a big smile, showing off his bloodied teeth. He pushed his hat back, and the town brim flopped about. The woman gave him a look, and he saw the younger of the two stifle a giggle. Jimmy looked down the other end of the bar, to where there was a man wearing a nice jacket, handing a little bag of caps to Georgia. "What about you sir? You think I look presentable?"

Monroe took is time drinking at the bar, as he usually did to write Intelligence reports to be taken downstairs then sent the Enclave headquarters at Corney Lake. What most people saw was a page full of song lyric's, doodles and part of a grocery list. But what an enclave intelligence agent could decipher was a official military report.

Report to Enclave High Command
Captain Monroe, Connor
Serial # 2221732

Mission to uncover intelligence on Brotherhood presence in the Bayou wasteland has been deemed a success, a captured brotherhood paladin, Dorian Reed has been turned sympathetic to our cause, He is being returned to HQ for further interrogation and/or enlistment. And actionable intelligence I have enclosed in this report, (side note I have high confidence in my people at base that they can secure Dorian's outright defection)

Again, I must enclose in this report my opinions on the enclave's policy's of disenfranchisement of non human manpower. Ghouls not only can enter the many unsalvaged military bases still lethally irradiated from the war and other locations Enclave regulars simply cannot go, put aside the practical applications of ghoul enlistment but at the core is an issue of moral, Any number of these ghouls are from before the war, the remember what it was like to be american. The super mutant's, by and large mindless beasts, yet the few that retain their intelligence can be amazing assets, their strength can make them excellent close quarters combatants as well as able to carry heavy systems like mini-guns, rocket and fat man launchers with ease. By enlisting these troops, by accepting them as our fellow Americans we can be one step closer to getting our country back.

My next mission shall be to further swing this towns loyalty toward the Enclave, the local Bar owner Georgia has proven many times that she is loyal, if not to us then the cap's we provide. The town doctor is like any in a small abused part of either the Confederacy or Republic, He is under supplied, over worked and well respected, If we can arrange shipments of extra medical supplies and an additional nurse and them tell him whom he has the thank for it he could very well support us. Yet the most influential figure in this town is the mayor, I will give it to him no matter how hard I try I can learn nothing of this man's vice's or ambitions. I will do what I can to mend this situation, detail will be in my next report.


Just as he finished up his report a gentlemen who looked like he got in a bit of a scuffle approached him, all the while trying to swoon two very beautiful women.

"I think..." reaching over the bar and grabbing a hand cloth and a few ice cubes, wrapping it and handing it over "You need to keep your guard up"

Just then Monroe noticed how out of place he looked, shined boot's clean jeans and a spiffy jacket alone in a bar full of half-drunk bruised and bloodied men.
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Ebyrron
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Postby Ebyrron » Thu Jul 21, 2016 4:36 pm

Lafayette

"Move!"

Coah shoved into the younger man, knocking him out of his way and into the dust.

"Son of a bitch!"

Coah didn't hear his curses, only the hounds somewhere behind, not quite on him but gaining ground. They had found him. The bastards had tracked him all the way to Lafayette.

In the wasteland, Coah was a shadow. He knew the land, the creatures, every pit of sinking sand, and dealt death with a bow as neatly and cleanly as you please. Here in the city, he was vulnerable. Sure, he knew how to handle himself in a brawl and could properly wield a knife. But Ricky had come with his cousins, and they had shotguns. Pistols and shotguns, hounds and hatchets.

Coah was not afraid of death. He was, however, afraid of dying at a moonshiner's hands. And this particular 'shiner had a reputation among the whores and hooligans as a sadist, and worse. Should Coah be captured...

He tried to focus on parting the crowd in front of him. Most shoved back at Coah, yelling and making a fuss. It was difficult to run at all. Coah glanced back and caught a glimpse of Ricky, red in the face and screaming, somehow audible over his snarling, snapping hounds. Coah turned back around. He was coming up on the river, and a little open air bar.

"Swamp rat! Stop your... Fucking bastard... STOP you god damn whoreson! I'll fucking shoot you in the back, swear to God I will you thieving rat!"

Coah stopped and turned to face his enemy. Ricky was bent over, puffing, a leash in each hand, attached to a pair of mangy old coon hounds. He was thin from years of making meals of moonshine and jet, with long, curly red hair and thin red wisps of a moustache. The crowd made way for the spectacle unfolding. Most were in a hurry to get away, but a few stragglers stayed to look on with curious, hungry eyes. Ricky's cousins were coming up behind him. Coah counted Otis, Caleb, Samuel, and Tim. Otis and Tim had shotguns. Caleb and Samuel wore pistols on their hip and wielded hatchets. Ricky had a rifle slung over his back. Murderous sots, the lot of them.

"Found you, Rat."

"Yes, you did. You win, Ricky." Coah splayed his palms in front of him in a gesture of surrender. "I have nothing but the clothes upon my back."

"May be we're wantin' those too!"

"Shut the fuck up, Tim." Ricky spat a wad of tobacco in the dirt. "We're missin' a lot of corn, Swamp Rat."

"I ate it."

"I know you did. You're gonna have to pay."

"I don't have any money."

"Ya got fingers, don't ye? Ten, by the looks of it. Let Samuel take a thumb off each hand and we'll let you scurry."

Samuel showed a big dumb yellow grin and smacked the butt of the hatchet against his palm.

"A steep price for corn."

"A thief's price. I could take you here, now, and have all your fingers off back home."

"Could you, though?"

Ricky flinched. "The fuck that s'posed to mean?"

"You know what I mean. You and your cousins could take me with your guns and hang me in the swamp, but we both you you've got girly hands, Ricky. You're a coward, and that's why you brought your dogs. All of them."

"Fuck you, Rat."

"Fuck you, Ricky. Fight me."

Ricky looked like he meant to, sliding the rifle from his back and handing over the hounds to his cousins. Coah's only hope was for a Republic soldier to intervene and arrest all of them for disturbing the peace. As long as his trigger happy cousins didn't fire off a shot, Coah could manage to swat Ricky around until then. The crowd was thickening again, too, and there were a few cheers.

"You got it."

"Rick, he's messin' with you."

"Shut up, Tim."

"Why can't we just kill him now and go--"

"Shut the fuck up, Tim!"

Ricky strode forward with his chest out and his fists balled in front of his face. Coah dropped his bow in the street, wiped the sweat from his brow, and charged. Coah led his attack with a drop kick that struck Ricky in the chest, leaving them both in the dirt. A noise of shock and approval came from the crowd. Ricky was gasping for breath, and then Coah was on him. His cousins began to converge on the fight but Coah already had the knife pressed firmly to the side of Ricky's ruddy pimpled neck.

"Don't come near. Away!"

They hesitated, and then came on. Coah drew the knife over Ricky's neck, causing him to yelp. The group stopped. Tim looked as if he meant to shoot. The crowd began to boo. Coah quickly lifted his gaze, but there were no soldiers in sight. They might as well have been fighting in the wastes. He had bought some time, but it was running out.

"You better fuckin' kill me, Rat. I'm gonna skin you and wear your face."
Last edited by Ebyrron on Thu Jul 21, 2016 4:37 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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United Human Planets
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Postby United Human Planets » Thu Jul 28, 2016 9:51 pm

Near Baton Rouge, early evening.

Around 12 boats came up to the shore of the Mississippi River, a couple of miles away from Baton Rouge. A settlement had begun there about a year ago, and was neither under the jurisdiction of the New Start Republic or the Jackson Confederacy. About 30 men, and a few women, scattered throughout, climbed out of the boats, and hefted many tools of violence. Rusty cleavers, pipe rifles, grenades, spears of shredded metal. These were not friendly traders who had come to shore, they were warriors. These people had been sent out by the Priest, the leader of the most powerful tribe in Nor'Leans, the Voodoos. They believed that the spirits were angry at Baton Rouge, and had recently marked the town with their Black Hands. The people of the town were unaware of this. Most of the time something was marked by the Voodoos, it was a house, so the warriors could find it in the night and steal the inhabitants away, to be part of their cruel and terrifying rituals. But this time, a whole town had been marked. This meant that a viking like mentality was to be adopted. Kill all who stood in their way, and take the others as slaves.

A large man, heavily made up for the coming attack, stepped forward in front of the war party. He dressed in strange clothing. He wore no shirt, and a pair of shredded, moldy shorts. He had painted his face to resemble that of a skeleton, and wore the skull of some strange, swampland creature on his head. His hair was long, and matted into dreadlocks that reached to his waist. Around his neck, there was a necklace, laced into it was bones of fish, and fingers. At its end, was the lower jaw of some former enemy. He held in one hand a machete, and in the other a torch. He turned around to his war party, and said in creole, "walk, but do so quietly, so as to not frighten the pigs." He then turned, and with the rest of his comrades, began to creep toward Baton Rouge.

Image


An hour later, and they were almost on the town. There was a rough wall surrounding the town, and a few sentry's patrolling on top of it. But the Nor'Leanieans outnumbered them at least 3 to 1. They knew they had to take the town by surprise, as everyone in Baton Rouge certainly had a gun. If they knew who was coming for them, then they would have enough time to prepare, and kill the fanatics. They soon were close enough to throw grenades and Molotov's at it. The large man in charge turned around, and said to his followers, "Light your torches. We shall burn them for the spirits command us." He reached into the pocked of his tattered shorts, and produced a lighter. He raised it to his torch, and flicked it. The cloth on his torch burst to fiery life, and flames licked up into the sky. He looked back at the wall, and saw a sentry. The sentry saw him to, and called down to him, speaking in English.

"Who's there?" He said, looking down at the Leader. The sentry watched as more torches began to be lit, adn felt fear rise up in his stomach at the sight of the people who stood outside the walls. They were dressed in rags, and the leather of people, and were painted to look skeletal and without mercy. He raised his gun, and called down to the newcomers once more, saying, "don't move," and then looked over his shoulder, and shouted out, "uh, theres some people here! I, I need some help, I don't thin-" and then her fell backwards as the kerosene stored in the bottle of a Molotov spilled out over him and lit, as the glass shattered and fell into his eyes. The Nor'Leanians let a great bellowing war cry ripple through them as they ran forward, planning to rip the little settlement to pieces.

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Postby Intermountain States » Fri Jul 29, 2016 6:53 pm

As Drew walked into his office and plopped onto his bed while wearing his combat armor, he couldn't help but missed the good old days of fighting against raiders. Say for a few ex-soldiers, most of the bandits were disorganized and their end goal is to loot, making them untrained and easy to fight against. Sure it was boring as fighting ends in less than a five minutes but fighting against thugs won't end up starting a war that would take up chunks of Confederate resources. A war against New Start will be damning. Despite what some gung-ho mercenaries claim, the New Start military isn't made up of drug cartels, they're an organized army with discipline and training and are probably ruthless as you would expect a soldier should be. Just the thought of fighting a war made his right hand shake violently. Brenner took a deep breath and relaxed.

"There's absolutely no way a war would start," Brenner thought to himself. The appearance of third party groups such as the Brotherhood of Steel would probably ensure a peaceful settlement between Lafayette and Jackson. He begins to feel at ease, remembering a story from a merchant from the north who talked about the Brotherhood of Steel, an order of scientists and soldiers defending the locals from aggressive mutants and raiders. He'd also heard about the Enclave and its presence there. He heard that the Enclave remnants reformed themselves and made their way down south but he wasn't too sure about the validity of the claim. Even still, he hoped that whether it's the Brotherhood or the Enclave, reformed or not, would bring peace to Bayou. Every day felt like something big is going to happen, and it's not big in a good way.

"Sir, urgent news!" Private Vince Hendricks shouts as slammed the door open. "There was an attack at Baton Rouge!"

"What?" Brenner responded, surprised at the sudden news. "What happened?"

"A small settlement outside of either New Start or Confederate jurisdiction was destroyed by an organized assault."

"Were there any survivors? Any perpetuators that could be identified?"

"We're not sure. It felt too organized to be a raider attack and I don't think it was caused by New Start."

"Are there any survivors?"

"Not from the report as far as I know, command is sending our squad and a few other units on a search and rescue mission. We have some medics coming with us."

Brenner thought for a minute, trying to process the news into his mind. "When do we head out?" he asked.

"As soon as possible. The rest of us are already there."

Brenner put on his helmet and grabbed his rifle. "Alright, I guess that means we're on a path to hell," he muttered under his breath as he and Hendricks head to the main area of the camp.
I find my grammatical mistakes after I finish posting
"A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed"
Lunatic Goofballs wrote:I'm a third party voter. Trust me when I say this: Not even a lifetime supply of tacos could convince me to vote for either Hillary or Trump. I suspect I'm not the only third party voter who feels that way. I cost Hillary nothing. I cost Trump nothing. If I didn't vote for third party, I would have written in 'Batman'.

If you try to blame me, I will laugh in your face. I'm glad she lost. I got half my wish. :)
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Capitalist Paradise

Postby Intermountain States » Thu Aug 04, 2016 9:47 pm

Baton Rouge

The search party contained sixteen men in total, four of which were medics. Due to the small size of the attacked settlement and with no sighting of survivors so far, command felt that a small platoon taking care of the survivors is more than enough. Drew was inclined to agree but just couldn't shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen. Once the party reached near the entrace of the settlement, Brenner turned to the group.

"Alright, we're near the town. I want three men to stay behind as guards. The remainders will split into two groups, each containing two medics. Each group will have a communication trooper so there will be communications between the groups," Brenner states as the men formed into squads. He continued, "If you find someone alive, do not shoot. Keep your distance and only shoot if you have to. Am I clear?"

"Yes sir!" the group responded in unision. Brenner joined one of the groups and the search party separated as they enter the town. The place was a mess with remains of bodies all over the town with blood splattered everywhere.

"Oh god, this is just terrible," a soldier cried. A couple vommited at the sight of the carnage. Brenner was shocked at the scene. He'd expected to see something like this at an attacked settlement but he could never fully expect it in person.

"This is the fucked up shit I've ever seen," Private Louis Baxter commented.

"Keep looking around. Don't let the sight distort the mission. We are to find survivors and get out before the perpetuators return, if they do," Brenner retorts, gripping his .308 automatic rifle tightly, feeling his right hand shaking violently at the sight.

"I don't think there are any survivors judging by the amount of body remains around here," a soldier remarked.

"I can't seem to find any bodies that seem to belong to the marauders. Whoever did this planned this in advance for them to jump the town," Chang said.

"Keep your eyes peeled, there's got to be a person still alive," Brenner commanded. Just saying that, he somehow knew it couldn't be true. The attackers knew what to do and he doubt that they'll leave behind survivors. The soldiers gripped their rifles, fearing their lives for what to come in a dead town. An alert came from a communications man who handed a walkie to Brenner.

"This is Farmer 1, what's your status, over?" Brenner asked.

"Farmer 1, this is Farmer 7, one of our men reported to find a couple of large dark figures patrolling the area. We cannot get the full description but it looks like they're heavily armored and there seem to be 4 of them," the voice on the walkie talkie said.

"Stay hidden and get a clear sight on them," Brenner commanded. "Keep us updated though."

"Roger that Farmer 1, this is Farmer 7, out," the voice responded. Brenner turned to his men.

"We might encounter hostiles, be sure to get on the lookout," Brenner said. Another alert came. "This is Farmer 1, over."

"This is Farmer 7, The armed figures are heading towards your location, Farmer 1, we're near your position so coming to assist, over."

"Roger that Farmer 7, have you gotten any new information about the new party?" Brenner asked.

"Yes Farmer 1, these armored figures have an E and a circle of stars on their back."

"E and a circle of stars? Those are Enclave personnels." Chang said.

"Everyone, get into position," Brenner commanded. "They may be hostile so be prepared to fire if they draw near"

The soldiers scrambled for cover with their weapons ready for the Enclave to arrive. Then they heard the loud footsteps of power and they can see the Enclave personnels, black armor with the hostile looking eyes. The men raised their guns at the armored figure, ready to shoot. Brenner was the first to speak, while aiming his .308 Automatic Rifle at the Enclave soldiers.

"Enclave personnels, you are in the area of the Jackson Confederacy. Any moves that's deemed hostile will have you fired upon!"
I find my grammatical mistakes after I finish posting
"A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed"
Lunatic Goofballs wrote:I'm a third party voter. Trust me when I say this: Not even a lifetime supply of tacos could convince me to vote for either Hillary or Trump. I suspect I'm not the only third party voter who feels that way. I cost Hillary nothing. I cost Trump nothing. If I didn't vote for third party, I would have written in 'Batman'.

If you try to blame me, I will laugh in your face. I'm glad she lost. I got half my wish. :)
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New York Times Democracy

Postby Kelmet » Thu Aug 04, 2016 11:29 pm

Intermountain States wrote:Baton Rouge

The search party contained sixteen men in total, four of which were medics. Due to the small size of the attacked settlement and with no sighting of survivors so far, command felt that a small platoon taking care of the survivors is more than enough. Drew was inclined to agree but just couldn't shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen. Once the party reached near the entrace of the settlement, Brenner turned to the group.

"Alright, we're near the town. I want three men to stay behind as guards. The remainders will split into two groups, each containing two medics. Each group will have a communication trooper so there will be communications between the groups," Brenner states as the men formed into squads. He continued, "If you find someone alive, do not shoot. Keep your distance and only shoot if you have to. Am I clear?"

"Yes sir!" the group responded in unision. Brenner joined one of the groups and the search party separated as they enter the town. The place was a mess with remains of bodies all over the town with blood splattered everywhere.

"Oh god, this is just terrible," a soldier cried. A couple vommited at the sight of the carnage. Brenner was shocked at the scene. He'd expected to see something like this at an attacked settlement but he could never fully expect it in person.

"This is the fucked up shit I've ever seen," Private Louis Baxter commented.

"Keep looking around. Don't let the sight distort the mission. We are to find survivors and get out before the perpetuators return, if they do," Brenner retorts, gripping his .308 automatic rifle tightly, feeling his right hand shaking violently at the sight.

"I don't think there are any survivors judging by the amount of body remains around here," a soldier remarked.

"I can't seem to find any bodies that seem to belong to the marauders. Whoever did this planned this in advance for them to jump the town," Chang said.

"Keep your eyes peeled, there's got to be a person still alive," Brenner commanded. Just saying that, he somehow knew it couldn't be true. The attackers knew what to do and he doubt that they'll leave behind survivors. The soldiers gripped their rifles, fearing their lives for what to come in a dead town. An alert came from a communications man who handed a walkie to Brenner.

"This is Farmer 1, what's your status, over?" Brenner asked.

"Farmer 1, this is Farmer 7, one of our men reported to find a couple of large dark figures patrolling the area. We cannot get the full description but it looks like they're heavily armored and there seem to be 4 of them," the voice on the walkie talkie said.

"Stay hidden and get a clear sight on them," Brenner commanded. "Keep us updated though."

"Roger that Farmer 1, this is Farmer 7, out," the voice responded. Brenner turned to his men.

"We might encounter hostiles, be sure to get on the lookout," Brenner said. Another alert came. "This is Farmer 1, over."

"This is Farmer 7, The armed figures are heading towards your location, Farmer 1, we're near your position so coming to assist, over."

"Roger that Farmer 7, have you gotten any new information about the new party?" Brenner asked.

"Yes Farmer 1, these armored figures have an E and a circle of stars on their back."

"E and a circle of stars? Those are Enclave personnels." Chang said.

"Everyone, get into position," Brenner commanded. "They may be hostile so be prepared to fire if they draw near"

The soldiers scrambled for cover with their weapons ready for the Enclave to arrive. Then they heard the loud footsteps of power and they can see the Enclave personnels, black armor with the hostile looking eyes. The men raised their guns at the armored figure, ready to shoot. Brenner was the first to speak, while aiming his .308 Automatic Rifle at the Enclave soldiers.

"Enclave personnels, you are in the area of the Jackson Confederacy. Any moves that's deemed hostile will have you fired upon!"

The four X0-1 clad men stopped in there tracks, one with a Gatling laser and the rest with plasma rifles but mad e not attempt to draw them. From out behind the squad a fifth man in reinforce combat armor with an enclave intelligence patch on his arm and an enclave baseball cap approached slowly with his plasma rifle pointed down and his right arm up.

"Hold your fire friend We're here to help. Any sign's of survivors?"
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Intermountain States
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Postby Intermountain States » Sun Aug 07, 2016 10:33 pm

The soldiers were taken aback. Enclave operatives seeking cooperation? Now, Brenner knew rumors that remnants of the Enclave in the Capital Wasteland moved down south to rebuild their numbers. Brenner also heard rumors that the Enclave Remnants reformed and is no longer the force that terrorized the Capital Wasteland and California. While some are hoping that the Enclave is now the force for good, many were skeptical. They all heard that the Enclave in the East tried to play themselves off as the good guys until they were driven out by the Brotherhood of Steel.

Even still, the Enclave operatives are not shooting at them and that's fine with Brenner for now. He radioed the other squad.

"Hold your fire, Farmer 7. They appear to be friendlies but if they get hostile, open fire," he commanded. He turned to his squad. "Don't shoot yet but keep your weapons on the Enclave operatives in case this is a trick," he ordered as the men nodded. He stood up and lowered his rifle.

"We've found no survivors yet," Brenner begin. "But how can we trust you? We've heard your exploits in other wastelands. How can you prove that you won't wipe us all out?"
I find my grammatical mistakes after I finish posting
"A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed"
Lunatic Goofballs wrote:I'm a third party voter. Trust me when I say this: Not even a lifetime supply of tacos could convince me to vote for either Hillary or Trump. I suspect I'm not the only third party voter who feels that way. I cost Hillary nothing. I cost Trump nothing. If I didn't vote for third party, I would have written in 'Batman'.

If you try to blame me, I will laugh in your face. I'm glad she lost. I got half my wish. :)
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Postby Kelmet » Mon Aug 08, 2016 8:21 am

Intermountain States wrote:The soldiers were taken aback. Enclave operatives seeking cooperation? Now, Brenner knew rumors that remnants of the Enclave in the Capital Wasteland moved down south to rebuild their numbers. Brenner also heard rumors that the Enclave Remnants reformed and is no longer the force that terrorized the Capital Wasteland and California. While some are hoping that the Enclave is now the force for good, many were skeptical. They all heard that the Enclave in the East tried to play themselves off as the good guys until they were driven out by the Brotherhood of Steel.

Even still, the Enclave operatives are not shooting at them and that's fine with Brenner for now. He radioed the other squad.

"Hold your fire, Farmer 7. They appear to be friendlies but if they get hostile, open fire," he commanded. He turned to his squad. "Don't shoot yet but keep your weapons on the Enclave operatives in case this is a trick," he ordered as the men nodded. He stood up and lowered his rifle.

"We've found no survivors yet," Brenner begin. "But how can we trust you? We've heard your exploits in other wastelands. How can you prove that you won't wipe us all out?"

Cringing when he hears no survivors,

The Sargent looked back to his man with the Gatling laser nodding in permission. The soldier than takes of his helmet reviling himself to be a ghoul,

"Look smoothskin, do I look like the kind of person that would be a member of the old enclave? I don't think so I like living."

The Sargent look's back at Brenner "Are you going to let us help or are we just going to stand here all day pointing guns at each other?" spitting chew tobacco on the ground.
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Postby Intermountain States » Thu Aug 11, 2016 1:39 pm

"Well I'll be damned, a ghoul in the Enclave ranks," Chang whispered. It was a shock to the rest of platoon. They know about the Old Enclave's policy that torched everyone who aren't human (and even humans are torched for suspicion of being unpure). This is certainly a change for the Enclave. Even still, they're still not sure to completely trust the Enclave squadron.

"Should we trust them?" a soldier asked.

"I mean, the ghoul is a pretty damned evidence that they reformed and not being racist pricks," another soldier responded.

"It could be a trick," Chang replied. "I heard stories that they had a Super Mutant in their rank."

"Well, there's no choice for us right now," Brenner said. He stood back up.

"Okay, we'll work with you in finding survivors," Brenner said. " But if we are to split up, I want one Enclave member to be with 4 Confederate troopers, is that fair?"
I find my grammatical mistakes after I finish posting
"A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed"
Lunatic Goofballs wrote:I'm a third party voter. Trust me when I say this: Not even a lifetime supply of tacos could convince me to vote for either Hillary or Trump. I suspect I'm not the only third party voter who feels that way. I cost Hillary nothing. I cost Trump nothing. If I didn't vote for third party, I would have written in 'Batman'.

If you try to blame me, I will laugh in your face. I'm glad she lost. I got half my wish. :)
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Kelmet
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Postby Kelmet » Thu Aug 11, 2016 5:28 pm

Intermountain States wrote:"Well I'll be damned, a ghoul in the Enclave ranks," Chang whispered. It was a shock to the rest of platoon. They know about the Old Enclave's policy that torched everyone who aren't human (and even humans are torched for suspicion of being unpure). This is certainly a change for the Enclave. Even still, they're still not sure to completely trust the Enclave squadron.

"Should we trust them?" a soldier asked.

"I mean, the ghoul is a pretty damned evidence that they reformed and not being racist pricks," another soldier responded.

"It could be a trick," Chang replied. "I heard stories that they had a Super Mutant in their rank."

"Well, there's no choice for us right now," Brenner said. He stood back up.

"Okay, we'll work with you in finding survivors," Brenner said. " But if we are to split up, I want one Enclave member to be with 4 Confederate troopers, is that fair?"

*Motioning his men to move in
"Sound's like a plan, I hope we find something"

The Enclave join the search for survivors
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Postby United Human Planets » Tue Aug 16, 2016 11:59 pm

Kelmet wrote:
United Human Planets wrote:Jimmy sat hunched over the bar at the river boat, nursing a freshly chipped tooth and a wicked crack to the side of his head. He wore a scruffy black stetson cowboy hat, but the right half of it had been ripped partly off in the fight, leaving it floppy and giving him the look of a cartoon character. He pressed a beer to his head, trying to do away with the lump that was forming there, and occasionally he leaned over and spat a little stream of blood into the tin can by his feet.

"Damn fucking republicans," he muttered to himself when a pair of farmers walked by, hauling their bales of cotton over their shoulders. One of them heard him and gave him a dirty look, but kept walking. Jimmy straightened up, and looked over the railing to his boat. It was hard to see in the large snarl of wood and random metal that made up the docks, but he found it. 4 big barrels rested on its deck. there were many more on the other end of the boat, but their were empty. The four he was looking at were filled with moonshine, and he was worried someone might try to steal them.

Jimmy sighed, and slumped back over the bar. At the other end was a well to do looking pair of women, and he glanced over at them. They saw him looking in their direction, and he winked. The younger of the two smiled back, but the older woman nudged her companion, and said, "We dont fraternize with people like that. No class."

Jimmy scrunched his face, and gave the older woman a look. "You know I can hear you, right lady?" he said.

"I would hope you can. It might remind you to make yourself more presentable."


"I think I look plenty presentable myself," he said. Jimmy flashed a big smile, showing off his bloodied teeth. He pushed his hat back, and the town brim flopped about. The woman gave him a look, and he saw the younger of the two stifle a giggle. Jimmy looked down the other end of the bar, to where there was a man wearing a nice jacket, handing a little bag of caps to Georgia. "What about you sir? You think I look presentable?"

Monroe took is time drinking at the bar, as he usually did to write Intelligence reports to be taken downstairs then sent the Enclave headquarters at Corney Lake. What most people saw was a page full of song lyric's, doodles and part of a grocery list. But what an enclave intelligence agent could decipher was a official military report.

Report to Enclave High Command
Captain Monroe, Connor
Serial # 2221732

Mission to uncover intelligence on Brotherhood presence in the Bayou wasteland has been deemed a success, a captured brotherhood paladin, Dorian Reed has been turned sympathetic to our cause, He is being returned to HQ for further interrogation and/or enlistment. And actionable intelligence I have enclosed in this report, (side note I have high confidence in my people at base that they can secure Dorian's outright defection)

Again, I must enclose in this report my opinions on the enclave's policy's of disenfranchisement of non human manpower. Ghouls not only can enter the many unsalvaged military bases still lethally irradiated from the war and other locations Enclave regulars simply cannot go, put aside the practical applications of ghoul enlistment but at the core is an issue of moral, Any number of these ghouls are from before the war, the remember what it was like to be american. The super mutant's, by and large mindless beasts, yet the few that retain their intelligence can be amazing assets, their strength can make them excellent close quarters combatants as well as able to carry heavy systems like mini-guns, rocket and fat man launchers with ease. By enlisting these troops, by accepting them as our fellow Americans we can be one step closer to getting our country back.

My next mission shall be to further swing this towns loyalty toward the Enclave, the local Bar owner Georgia has proven many times that she is loyal, if not to us then the cap's we provide. The town doctor is like any in a small abused part of either the Confederacy or Republic, He is under supplied, over worked and well respected, If we can arrange shipments of extra medical supplies and an additional nurse and them tell him whom he has the thank for it he could very well support us. Yet the most influential figure in this town is the mayor, I will give it to him no matter how hard I try I can learn nothing of this man's vice's or ambitions. I will do what I can to mend this situation, detail will be in my next report.


Just as he finished up his report a gentlemen who looked like he got in a bit of a scuffle approached him, all the while trying to swoon two very beautiful women.

"I think..." reaching over the bar and grabbing a hand cloth and a few ice cubes, wrapping it and handing it over "You need to keep your guard up"

Just then Monroe noticed how out of place he looked, shined boot's clean jeans and a spiffy jacket alone in a bar full of half-drunk bruised and bloodied men.


Jimmy let out a dry "Hah," and took the ice offered to him. "But if I kept my guard up, how would I come out of a fight, that would defeat all the fun." He smiled, and revealed his freshly missing tooth. He turned back to the two women he had been speaking with, and smiled his new smile at them as well while saying, "Doesnt this look like it would be a good conversation starter? 'Oh, sir, how on earth did you lose that tooth? Well you see, I was on the River Boat one day when I met some Confederates started a fight with me." The younger woman giggles again, but her companion continued to give him the stink eye.

Jimmy looked sullen, but purposefully so, and said, "Well, your friend seems to think Im funny."

"I just think your post fight drunkenness is funny," said the younger woman, smiling through her drink.

"Well, thats better than being disliked," said Jimmy, before turning back to Monroe. "so tell me, where is it exactly you come from? You dont seem like your from around these parts."
Last edited by United Human Planets on Thu Aug 18, 2016 8:55 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Kelmet
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Postby Kelmet » Fri Aug 19, 2016 9:53 am

Jimmy let out a dry "Hah," and took the ice offered to him. "But if I kept my guard up, how would I come out of a fight, that would defeat all the fun." He smiled, and revealed his freshly missing tooth. He turned back to the two women he had been speaking with, and smiled his new smile at them as well while saying, "Doesnt this look like it would be a good conversation starter? 'Oh, sir, how on earth did you lose that tooth? Well you see, I was on the River Boat one day when I met some Confederates started a fight with me." The younger woman giggles again, but her companion continued to give him the stink eye.

Jimmy looked sullen, but purposefully so, and said, "Well, your friend seems to think Im funny."

"I just think your post fight drunkenness is funny," said the younger woman, smiling through her drink.

"Well, thats better than being disliked," said Jimmy, before turning back to Monroe. "so tell me, where is it exactly you come from? You dont seem like your from around these parts."


"Name's Monroe, I'm from up north a way's. And a full set of teeth but bruised knuckles is a much better story, means you won. "

Making sure to slip his report into his jacket, while he went threw his plan to visit the mayor tonight.
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Postby United Human Planets » Sat Aug 20, 2016 7:23 am

Kelmet wrote:
Jimmy let out a dry "Hah," and took the ice offered to him. "But if I kept my guard up, how would I come out of a fight, that would defeat all the fun." He smiled, and revealed his freshly missing tooth. He turned back to the two women he had been speaking with, and smiled his new smile at them as well while saying, "Doesnt this look like it would be a good conversation starter? 'Oh, sir, how on earth did you lose that tooth? Well you see, I was on the River Boat one day when I met some Confederates started a fight with me." The younger woman giggles again, but her companion continued to give him the stink eye.

Jimmy looked sullen, but purposefully so, and said, "Well, your friend seems to think Im funny."

"I just think your post fight drunkenness is funny," said the younger woman, smiling through her drink.

"Well, thats better than being disliked," said Jimmy, before turning back to Monroe. "so tell me, where is it exactly you come from? You dont seem like your from around these parts."


"Name's Monroe, I'm from up north a way's. And a full set of teeth but bruised knuckles is a much better story, means you won. "

Making sure to slip his report into his jacket, while he went threw his plan to visit the mayor tonight.


"Well," said Jimmy, "I guess you have a point." He took a sip of his beer, and pressed the ice to the side of his head.

"So, where from up north are you from?"

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Postby Kelmet » Sat Aug 20, 2016 7:54 am

United Human Planets wrote:
Kelmet wrote:
"Name's Monroe, I'm from up north a way's. And a full set of teeth but bruised knuckles is a much better story, means you won. "

Making sure to slip his report into his jacket, while he went threw his plan to visit the mayor tonight.


"Well," said Jimmy, "I guess you have a point." He took a sip of his beer, and pressed the ice to the side of his head.

"So, where from up north are you from?"

"Up near Shreveport, But i travel a lot for work so home isn't really a spot on a map."
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Postby United Human Planets » Sun Aug 21, 2016 9:20 pm

Kelmet wrote:
United Human Planets wrote:
"Well," said Jimmy, "I guess you have a point." He took a sip of his beer, and pressed the ice to the side of his head.

"So, where from up north are you from?"

"Up near Shreveport, But i travel a lot for work so home isn't really a spot on a map."


"Huh," said Jimmy, looking Monroe up and down. He certainly was dressed nicer, and he even looked vaguely military. Jimmy took a sip of his beer and said, "so what is it that you do for work? You in the military or something? Your clothes look pretty nice as compared to the rest of us around these parts."

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