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  1. 5 points
    Hey Doc, Would you mind writing up a paragraph or two synopsis of the setting and what events are taking place as the RP begins? Or point me to that, if you already posted something like it.
  2. 4 points
    Hello and welcome to the very first OOC thread for the upcoming Fallout RP, Shattered Steel! Here, you can post your Character Sheets, your questions, your comments, and everything else that relates to roleplaying and Fallout. The RP itself will be starting some time within the next week or so. In the meantime, post your CSes for approval and for others to see. Once they've been approved, you can post them in the Resources Thread, which I will create soon as well. I don't know about y'all, but after almost two years of planning for this thing, I'm pretty dang excited! Here is the current map of Wellstone and it's surrounding regions, for anyone who needs to freshen up. And here is a Character Sheet template for anyone who wants to use it:
  3. 4 points
    Hi guys! This looks very exciting. I don't think I can do it justice right now, but I'll be lurking from time to time. Maybe I missed it, but what's the timeline in relation to the games?
  4. 4 points
    Somehow I this alliance of men reminds me very strongly of this video:
  5. 4 points
    Solitude The races of man mer and beast had described to the Bosmer as best they could what the fear of heights was. It seemed like a simple concept to them, but to the Bosmer it may as well have been like an infant trying to explain to an adult why they were so afraid of walking upright. Even the least nimble tree dweller learns to traverse the trees and vines above by the time they learn to walk gracefully. It comes natural. But Maori had a different fear of his own in Skyrim, much like the Imperial City when he got too close to the White Gold Tower. The vastness of Skyrim's mountains never ceased to send chills up his spine, especially from his vertically challenged view. And it wasn't the cold, that much he knew. That he never got used to either however. To Daric, they were a silent comfort. The howling of the winds against their surface above, and knowing that it was far colder up there than it was down here in Haafingar gave him comfort as well. Made it more bearable. Even so, the two were running low on food and the cold was getting more and more intrusive for the two minuscule warriors. When they saw Solitude's awkward land formation in the red splattered horizon, Daric didn't even argue when the Bosmer changed directions heading straight for the city. Neither of them said much of anything on their journey, especially not Maori who was all to aware of the looks the boy was giving him. The battle of Windhelm was still fresh on both of their minds. They went through Riften Hold briefly on their journey, but hadn't ran into any Thalmor. Maori said that they wouldn't, scouts and Justiciar elites had cloaking and invisibility magic at their disposal from at least one of their ranks. That was all he'd said the entire time to him and Daric hadn't responded. It would have continued on like that even still except Daric kept picturing Baldur the day he told him about his intel, then remembering how dumbfounded he was when he heard of Ulfric's death. All of which he had to hear from this smelly elf who wasn't even a native to these lands, and somehow "The Ash King" trusted him more than Daric. "**** this, hey knife ears!" Maori didn't seem to hear him. "Hey. Hey! Carcass breath!" "I know what you're gonna say, you've been giving me the stink eye the whole time. It's too damn cold, wait till we get to the city." Daric kept yelling at him as the elf just kept walking faster. Turning backwards but still advancing forward, Maori said, "I'm serious, shut up kid!" As he did, Maori's point of view began to rise, the earth rumbling beneath his wrapped feet as though a mountain decided to sprout beneath him. Screaming and trying to hold onto the earth, he soon found himself atop the head of a glossy black chaurus the size of a horse, writhing and wriggling out of the earth. Daric had his swords in hand ready to reluctantly charge the beast, but the ground began rumbling once more, bursting forth with pale arms grasping for anything above the surface before revealing their full visage. Meanwhile Maori kept screaming his lungs out whilst the Chaurus kept shaking its great thorny head, spewing dank putrid acid wildly as it did. The things, elves or whatever they were must've been Falmer, Daric surmised from what the Stormcloaks and Nords about Skyrim had said about them, including Baldur. Their strikes were so quick that Daric didn't bother trying to see them. His body merely moved to protect the parts of him that were most vital. The neck, eyes, groin. They slashed wildly, which his cheap chainmail was decent enough at stopping, exposing himself to glance blows to try and find openings. His left sword found itself in the belly of one elf quickly, stopping its advances while the thing tried to gnaw at his neck. The funk of its breath was made visible in the cold, and was almost as volatile as the Chaurus's acid. He cut the thing's head off out of spite before he used his boot to remove his blade. Another elf tackled him as he was doing so, aiding the process, but knocking the swords out of his hands as he fell to the ground. As the others came to aid the slaughter, Daric closed his eyes, placing his hand over the Falmer's head. At once, heat seared its flesh as it screeched in agony and fled into the marsh with a permanent hand print on its skull, cursing the boy in whatever gurgled screeches passed for a language for them. Daric scrambled for his sword and did not have time to see how the elf fared. Running as more of the creatures pursued him, he cast small bolts of flame from his swords periodically to slow them down, then directly towards a partially frozen puddle to create a screen of steam to hide from the twisted figures. It didn't slow them down for a second, and Daric had no idea why. He had no idea that the things were blind, and relied only on their hearing to track him down like wolves. He had no idea how many of them there were or where they'd even come from. But he knew he was alone, with nothing but his father's spells and Baldur's teachings to keep him alive barely as ribbons of blood arched from his body every time one of the things got a blow on the quick but outnumbered fighting protege. Because of his preoccupation with the Falmer, Darin couldn't see the dingy fast approaching, it's occupants paddling hard for the shore. It wasn't until one of the Falmer cried out in pain from the firebolt that slammed into it from behind that Daric, and the rest of the Falmer, took notice. A few split off from their assault on Daric to meet this new foe. They found themselves facing an entirely steel plate clad warrior, wielding sword and shield. Their blows were quick, but their chaurus weapons did little to even dent the plate. The knight bashed and slashed the relentless Falmer, while the rest of the boat's occupants continued to let spells fly. Daric was about to thank the gods, but he'd lost a bit of blood by now and was unsure if the assistance he saw and what he saw next was real or him hallucinating from the bloodloss. Maori who Daric had completely forgotten about was still atop of the Chaurus head. Instead of swinging around wildly trying to keep it from eating him, he was comfortably striding atop of it into battle against what remained of the scampering elves. The sight of their monster mount turned against them and the arrival of the new fire slinging iron knight sent the rest of them in retreat beneath the frozen marshes to lands unknown. All but one remaining elf that began hurling lightning at the new assailants in frustration and desperation. Its leg was lacerated at the heel by Daric earlier, and wasn't going to be able to flee like the others. It cast a summoning spell that brought forth several spectral chaurus and charged the knight and his men in one final push. The knight stepped into the path of the first chaurus and cut it down in one swing, but that allowed another chaurus to clamp onto the knight's plate clad shin. That chaurus dissolved into the salty air when a young Breton man, slightly older than Daric and not wearing armor but glowing with the magical hue of an armor spell, stabbed it through the back with an ice spike. The knight was then free to confront the Falmer mage, who sent bolt after bolt into the oncoming knight. The knight absorbed them, slowing down only after the third bolt. The Falmer struck then, swinging its axe as quickly as possible, trying to find an opening in the knight's defense. It was for naught, though, as the knight knocked the Falmer to the ground with a powerful bash, where it was stabbed through the chest. The final chaurus dissipated, while the fireball aimed at it skorched the ground mere moments after it disappeared. The young Breton man stepped forward, his hands glowing orange with healing magic, and approached Daric. "Dame, guard that hole," he said to the knight. Then, to Daric, "Where are you hurt?" "Everywhere," said Daric before collapsing in the man's arms. Maori stuck a dagger under the bug's shell plate, revealing the soft underpart which he stabbed, killing the thing before his charms wore off on it. "The boy gonna be alright? I'd hate to have to tell Red-Snow his Breton brat got killed by rabid elves. Too soon, you know? Who are you lot anyway?" "He's Prince Roland Adrard of High Rock," the knight answered. She turned her helmeted head to look at the dagger before she went back to watching the hole. Roland was running soft orange magic over Daric, but he soon stopped. "We need to go. I stopped the bleeding but couldn't mend much else." Roland squatted and lifted Daric up, carrying him in his arms. Daric was slightly taller than Roland, but whereas the former was lean, the latter was brawny. As quickly as he could manage it, he walked over to the boat and sat him in, where the other two soldiers were already manning the oars. "Let's go, elf," the knight said, climbing aboard the boat herself. "The name is Maori..." he said, obviously irritated. "What are you lot doing here, yer highness? Where's the fa- uh, the fabulous illustrous King Theodore? You're here for the moot I take it?" The boat set off, with Roland still tending to Daric, though at this point that consisted of keeping his wounds sealed. Roland looked up and answered, "We are. I came in place of my father. What were you two doing out in the swamp?" "Attending to business for the Jarl of Windhelm," said Maori. He hesitated to answer. "Going just peachy already. I gotta get the kid patched up quick, we don't have time to waste here. Guess that means I gotta take him to the court mage. Help me haul him there, I'm sure you're hungry, and as allies to Skyrim, Solitude's Jarl should accommodate you until the moot is called." "That won't be necessary. We're here to meet with the Jarl, her thanes, and some merchants to check in on our trading contracts. We'll then do the same in Windhelm, and travel to the moot from there," Roland explained. They were almost to the docks, the soldiers rowing as quickly as possible. "But we will certainly help your friend. We have a healer at the docks that can better steady him until we get to the court mage." "Good," said Maori. Pausing a moment, then stepping towards Daric, he tore off the boy's blue sash and placed it in his pack. The moot was too close and Maori didn't want to take any risks with a Jarl who had bad history with his friend. Who knows what could happen up until the moot took place. The Thalmor's eyes were everywhere, and ambitious greed even moreso. "I'll run ahead, let the Jarl know she has guests, and make sure the court wizard is ready to assist him." "We'll meet you there," Roland said, his eyes only briefly lingering on the bag Maori put the sash in. It was obvious the reasons for hiding it weren't lost on him, or Dame LaViolette, whose eyes did the same. She nodded to the elf, relaying their understanding, and silence. They docked then, the knight hurrying to fetch the healer, the soldiers helping lift the boy from the boat, and Roland keeping his healing hands pressed on the wounds. Maori watched them briefly, wondering if it wise to trust Baldur's stray to these Bretons, but despite his unkempt wild appearance, he was kin to them. If you couldn't trust kin.... He stopped the thought, knowing all too well that one couldn't even trust kin anymore with the Thalmor's fingers in every pot. But the Bretons had little to gain in siding with Thalmor. The thought was pure paranoia born of simply not liking the disdain in the voice of the woman. In this land, she may as well have had pointy ears. "Pfft, the nerve." Maori had never actually been to Solitude. Aside from the crazy land formation it was on, it seemed like a bit of an extension of a Cyrodiil city. The Imperials had more sense than to build a city on such a thing. The Nords... well, no one ever accused the Nords of being fearful. That was always their biggest problem if you asked him. Instinctively Maori kept to the outskirts of the streets, with all the tall men and women stomping around from shop to shop. He was caught off guard by a pair of Altmer women staring at him, and instinctively grasped his dagger before realizing the two had noticed. "What?" "Where is it that you think you're going, little carnivore?" Maori's nostrils flared as his eyebrows arched. "As it happens, I'm going to see the Jarl and the court mage, butter elf." "In those? Like that?" said the first elf. "What are those?" said the second one, who Maori noted was a bit cuter than the first one, but barely. "Those are my feet." said Maori. The women's dual expressions said everything. "I don't have time for this, I don't care about the approval of two Altmer. I have to-" "Oh this won't take but a moment, and it's not our approval you should be worried about." "Yes, now quit fussing, it's for your own good!" The two worked in unison, one pushing him from behind and the other guiding him along. Before he knew it, he was being stripped naked in front of a pair of strange women and no wine was involved this time. Unfortunately for him neither was the sex and he wasn't doing the pricking either. "Ow, watch where you're sticking that thing!" "Stay still, and we won't prick you! Almost done. There, now, do us a favor and wear this when you go to meet the Jarl. She's far more likely to see you in our attire, compared to how you were before." Maori struggled as they brought him a mirror. He had to admit, after they cleaned him up a bit and combed his hair, put on the new brown elegant robes, he didn't look to bad. "And what did I look like before, pray tell?" "Like a vagabond. Like you were here to start trouble. And that simply won't do, not for an elf in Skyrim." He eyed the two suspiciously. "You two often help random strangers that happen to look like trouble? For all you know, I could be." "You'd be doing us a favor," said one of them. "And, we're trying to do one for you. We know what happened in Valenwood. What's happening in Valenwood." Maori eyed the two suspiciously, but for the first time saw something more than snobby looks in their eyes. The Altmer actually seemed remorseful. His expression softened for a moment until his suspicion began rising again. "What's it to you two anyway? And how would you know? That isn't common knowledge, not here in Skyrim it isn't." "We used to be with the Dominion of course, both of us." Maori drew the same dagger he grasped earlier, its golden tint matching the skin of the one he held it against. "I knew it! I can smell your lot from a world away!" The elven women stayed calm, even as a trickle of blood fell from her neck. The other one stepped behind Maori with her hands behind her back and said, "We were not Thalmor. But we served them none the less. We thought it was the right thing to do, though you know we had no choice in the matter regardless." "Oh so you just had a change of heart when you saw the murder? Smelled the burning flesh? Is that it? Please. And you think some fancy clothes is going to change what happened? Make up for your roles in it? How many did you two kill, hmm?" "We killed no one. We only fashioned the uniforms of the Thalmor Justiciars. You can choose to believe this or not, accept our gift or not, but I will have to ask that you take that blade from my sister's neck. I won't allow you to kill her." Maori removed the blade eventually, licking the blade clean before putting it back in its place. "As if you had a choice in the matter. I'm out of here," he said. The two tried to say something as he left with his travel sack but he didn't give them any time to as he slammed the door shut. Blinking rapidly whilst wiping his eyes, the Bosmer's teeth ground together the entire way back to the Blue Palace. The guards stopped him at the bottom of the stairway before he could even make his way up, putting a hand on his shoulder as they took his pack. "What the hell are you two doing, I have business with the Jarl!" "Not right now you don't, and not until we've searched you." "Search away, the bag's filled with daggers and poisons, and here's my bow and arrows. I'm not an assassin, I'm a soldier for the Jarl of Windhelm, Baldur Red-Snow. I take it you've heard the news. The dumb looks on your face tells me... no? No. Great, where have you two been. Anyway, you know Ulfric has died at least? Ok good. Baldur has taken his place, not the Queen, Velara or whatever. I'm here on business for Baldur, and I need to speak to the Jarl but first I gotta speak to the court mage. Can you bring her here?" The two looked at one another a moment, then back at the elf. As the bars slammed in Maori's face in the Blue Palace's prison, Maori yelled, "You sons of sload sluts, I hope you choke on a blood sausage! Scullery whores!" The guards laughed as they walked away, leaving Maori to seethe to himself. It wasn't long, though, before he heard soft footsteps and cloth lightly dragging along the ground, both barely audible. But the prison was quiet, and somehow grew quieter still as the footsteps moved about. They reached Maori's cell, and the elf found himself looking upon a slender, blue robe clad mage. Her hood was pulled over her face, even though she was indoors. She stood, most of her weight on her right leg, her right hand resting on her hip. She looked at Maori, searching his face and body with unnerving eyes. She stopped the inspection and asked, "You aren't going to struggle, are you? Neither one of us would find it pleasant if you did." Maori hadn't noticed the woman at first and noticeably jumped at her voice. "Excuse me? What are you, an avatar of Molag? No, he'd like it if I struggled... Try anything and I'll struggle your head from your shoulders lady." "If only I had the time to watch you try and fail at that, it might be amusing. But I'm in quite a hurry." She lifted her hand, which glowed in a faint red and black magic, the tendrils it conjured reaching out towards Maori. "Oh yea, well I'll... I'll... what did you..." Maori could feel his eyelids grow heavier by the second. Whatever the mage did to him, he was losing his faculties fast. In fact, he was starting to hallucinate. He could have sworn he saw the young woman baring fangs at him like a khajiit... He drew a hidden dagger from his robe but lacked the strength to even hold it. As he fell to the ground, his only hope remaining was to use his people's birthright, hoping that some creature of the wild would hear his call. In a prison, beneath a palace. "Shit." Sybille Stentor entered the cell, her fangs bared, her eyes locked on Maori's soft brown neck. She heard scurrying behind her and stopped, turning around to see two skeevers running across the room toward her. She conjured up a ball of flame and reduced one skeever to ash. It shrieked as it died. The other skeever leapt into the air, its own fangs aimed at her neck. It never made it, as she caught it on an ice spike she held in her hand. She tossed it to the floor, but before she could feed, she saw a guard descending the stairs. "This had better be important," she said. "Uh..." the guard lifted a finger, pointing to the mer. "We need him. Jarl just ordered the prisoner released. Turns out he was who he said he was, a messenger for Jarl Red-Snow. What happened to him?" "Fainted. I've never seen someone so afraid of skeevers before," Sybille said, with a stare that dared the guard to challenge her story. The guard nodded and went to pick Maori up, lifting the groggy mer to his feet and waking him up. By the time he had, Sybille was gone. "Mmm, not so hard baby. Mmm, seriously." Maori started coughing, kicking his legs when he felt water hit his face, as though he were trying to swim. "Wake up!" The guard dumped another bucket of water over his head. "What? What's going on? Where's the monster?" "Shut up you crazy elf, and listen. For whatever reason, the Jarl has decided to have you for dinner." Maori cleared his throat and wiped the water from his eyes. "That woman I just met was the Jarl?" "Huh? No, that's just Sybille, the court mage. She's the one that healed your friend while you were away. They're probably eating now. I'm escorting you to the dinner table to speak with her, and her other guests. Show her respect or it's back in the dungeon. Got it?" "Aye." Maori was in no mood to be mouthy after what he thought he saw. "Good. Now get moving," said the guard as he tossed Maori a cloth. By the time the two did arrive at the Dinner table, the guests were all well into their meal and a conversation. The guard bowed to Elisif and said, "Jarl Elisif the Fair, I present to you your guest, the elf." "My name is Maori. Ack, damnit!" he cried when the guard hit him over the head to bow. "My name is Maori, Jarl Elisif. The Fair." "Guard! That is no way to treat a guest, apologize to him at once and be off with you!" The guard gave Maori such a look, especially when the mer started grinning beneath all his freakish tattoos. "Stuhn's mercy, elf I'll.... I mean... I'm. Sorry." "Don't beat yourself up too much, eyebrows," said Maori, mocking his accent, as well as his prominent brow. The Jarl snickering at him was all he needed to leave the scene. Maori seated himself once next to Daric, who whispered in his ear, "So, you took my sash but then just blurted out what your purpose was? How stupid are you?" "Not now kid, I'm not having the best day," he said between mouthfuls of rib. He almost choked when he realized who was sitting across from him. "Careful, Maori," Sybille said. "What would Jarl Red-Snow think of us if you choked to death at our dinner table?" Maori's eyes narrowed, the insinuation not lost on him. Though poison was one thing he hadn't needed to worry about, living in Valenwood. He spent his life building up immunities. The boy was another story, but judging from his plate, it was too late to worry about such things now. Seeing Sybille's own plate, Maori said, "That the food must not be very good. Excuse me my Jarl, I don't mean to be rude, I only jest. But I can't help but notice, of everyone here, your court Mage is the only one that hasn't eaten anything." Elisif eyed the court Mage, as if noticing this for the first time. It was of course, the last thing on her mind, as she was more worried about what Red-Snow wanted with her. Falk gave her a nod, and she reluctantly smiled. "Well you're right! Sybille? You always eat so little at my tables. Please." Maori shoved a bowl of fruits and squash her way while he wolfed down a bloody lamb leg. "Of course, Jarl Elisif. Excuse me if I don't have quite the voracious appetite of our guest, though." Sybille plucked an apple and began eating, taking a moment to wipe the juice from her lips. "Delicious, your highness." Maori frowned. He didn't know a thing about vampires but he'd have sworn they couldn't eat food. Wiping the bloody meat juice from his lips, the thought started to leave his mind. Perhaps he was just seeing things, she might've cast a fear spell to intimidate him for interrogation. Prince Roland interrupted then, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen over everyone else at the table. He cleared his throat and said, "Solitude is a beautiful city, Jarl Elisif. You and your people must be very proud of it." "We're more proud that we've managed to maintain its beauty despite the late Ulfric Stormcloak moving the capital of Skyrim to Windhelm, and taking a large portion of our coffers with him," she answered. "From what I understand, all that happened was that the late Ulfric, your husband, took his portion of the hold's coffers with him, which as High King was larger than yours, the High King's wife. And after that, traders started seeking to do business in Windhelm, the new capital, rather than here." Elisif was visibly annoyed. Maori looked at Daric as though he'd just spoken in draconic. Falk sat straight in his seat for the first time that evening. "Boy! You are a guest in our hold, and unless you want to end up the way these Bretons found you, I'd suggest..." "Enough Falk, the boy is right. That is what happened. Ulfric ended our marriage and left me here with my portion of gold to run the city, leaving with his. Gold that was only his because he'd claimed it as such after the war." "That is what tends to happen when one loses. Gold is lost, wives are taken." "What in the hell is wrong with you??" This time it was Maori's turn to speak up. "We shouldn't even be here," said Daric. "We-" "Are going to stay right here until Sybille says you're good to travel again. If it weren't for my hospitality, you'd be dead. Whatever business you have can and will wait until then, I'll not have anyone saying I treated Red-Snow's friends poorly with the upcoming moot. And since it's clear you two, or at least the boy has other things on his mind, and have no interest in me at all as it so happens, I'll have to ask that while our other guests remain, that you keep your mouth shut. Is that clear?" Standing up, Daric said, "May I be excused, your highness?" She signaled for Falk to take him to his quarters where Sybille was treating him. The stress on the young Jarl was clear to all that saw her. Especially when Daric called Ulfric her husband, though stress wouldn't be an adequate word for what she showed then. Neither was it anger. Disgust. "Are there going to be any more outbursts, Maori?" "Don't look at me, I'm just here for the meal and conversation. Something's always up that kid's ass if you ask me, gotta forgive him." "Luckily for you, Elisif the Fair isn't a name given in jest. Now, to our guests. I must apologize to you, I had not intended for such rudeness to intrude on the company of a prince." Lady Gaerhart, the Breton Dowager Queen, waved Elisif's concern away and said, "Young people are emotional. You have been quite hospitable, and kind, to take him in and save him. Hopefully he will soon recognize that." Roland coughed and said, "I can also assure you Breton merchants will always find their way here. Our trading relationship is a fruitful one, for all parties, and we don't anticipate that ending anytime soon." Elisif let herself relax, admittedly glad to hear that she still had support amongst the Bretons. "It will be especially fruitful, on the chance that I become High Queen," she said. Before anyone commented on the likelihood of that happening, she said, "I've already heard the rumors, why you're here. Word is spreading that Baldur is to break even more tradition than he already has, by inviting outsiders to a moot of Skyrim's Jarls. Fear not, I am not opposed to this. It's surprising, but it's a welcome one." Thane Bryling said, "Forgive me for butting in, but I think it's clear to all that the new upstart Jarl wishes to circumvent the authority of the other Jarls with any influence he can muster in the world. A bold move admittedly, but also an obvious one. And risky when the man he replaced was adamant on keeping outside influence out of Skyrim politics." Elisif looked to Maori to see if he would interrupt but the mer was simply listening between mouthfuls. "Aye, risky indeed, but even so, I am worried. This claim of his, this religious fervor that he is building... It's dangerous. I've met the man, spoken to him on occasion. He is charismatic, like his predecessor though not as much then. Still, I worry about what he can do to this land, and with word of more foreigners, supposedly Atmorans or something similar coming to Skyrim on his behalf, it's starting to look more and more like what he claims may even be true. That's what the simple folk will think. That's what some Jarls east of here will think. In that case, outsiders, no offense your highness, will not cause as much harm to his claim to the throne." Looking to them now, she said, "I remember what he said the day Ulfric left this hold with a new wife. The people did not respond to it well back then, certainly not in Solitude, but still, it troubles me, this move to the old ways. You must understand, what he is saying, it isn't dangerous for just me, or anyone else in Skyrim that may be potentially his enemy in his eyes. But to his neighbors as well. Hammerfell I understand, Cyrodiil less so, but High Rock even less. What allegiances do you have to him? There is no reason that you should feel obligated to siding with Baldur Red-Snow over another Jarl in this land." Prince Roland gave the Jarl a small smile, which she later realized was meant to take the bite out of his words. "No official allegiance, no. Our choice in siding with him is because, frankly, we believe he is the best option. There are more senior Jarls, yes, who have more experience governing, but we aren't looking to support a ruler. We want a leader, and Red-Snow is that. Skyrim is going to lead this alliance, and Red-Snow will be the general in charge. Him ruling Skyrim as well ensures that everything that can be done to defeat the Thalmor will be done." "If it is a leader you want," said Elisif, with hesitation. "Then... there is another you might consider. He's possibly the best person to be leading a war like this." "Jarl Elisif," said Bryling again in protest. "You can't seriously mean..." "Jarl Brund Hammer-Fang the Bull," she finally said, her brow wrinkled in tension. "If Jarl Brund Hammer-Hammer-Fang becomes high king, I am to be his second wife. Influence between Solitude and Windhelm will be spread evenly. That would mean more trade would come through Solitude as well, as a sister hold to Windhelm, and I will be able to grant High Rock unprecedented trading rights to Solitude after the great war, when we'll both need it the most. Baldur was not the only one who helped repel the Thalmor invasion, Brund's might was key to their defeat of a Sunbird. Under his rule, you get an equally strong war leader against the Thalmor, but with guaranteed benefits to your father's Kingdom afterwards as well. Brund is also the current Jarl of Markarth, and can grant you the same trading rights there with the Silver-Bloods." "I have heard of him. He cleared the Reach, no small task. But Baldur has proven himself at both Falkreath and Windhelm, had the support of the late High King and was his High General, and built a respectable town from nothing. We won't support anyone but him for High King," Roland said. Lady Gaerhart nodded and wiped her twisted old hands on her napkin. "Why not support Baldur yourself? It would endear you to him and the eastern Jarls, and, if you don't mind my saying so, save your dignity. The Jarl of Solitude should not have to be a second wife. I know there are eligible Breton noblemen who would leap at the chance to be your husband. Or maybe a Jarl or his relations." Bryling gave Elisif a look, but she gave one right back. Bryling clearly had suggested something similar. She gave a sigh that was rooted in frustration but faded in her defeat of the topic. She couldn't tell them the truth of why she resisted supporting Baldur's claim. Yes, she feared his claim not only to the throne but to High King Wulfharth's soul as well. But more than that, it was her only chance to wrestle back control from Windhelm to Solitude. Yes there would be the indignity of being Jarl Brund's second wife, but she had no intentions of remaining as such. Keep your friends close... I can't support that man and what he represents. It would be an affront to my husband, my true husband, Torygg. Who I've already brought shame to by not taking my own life when I had the chance. I must restore Solitude as the capital of Skyrim in his name. Instead of explaining her selfish desires however, she said, "I have a duty to Skyrim to stand against anyone as potentially dangerous as Baldur Red-Snow, against anyone that will bring more death and war to my people and my friends outside of Skyrim. For this, I'll suffer whatever indignities I must." "Oh please," said Maori. "Sir elf, I thought we had an understan-" "I understand only one thing, and it is that you are a fool." "You will watch your tongue! I am the Jarl of-," "You know DAMN well that whatever fears you have of Baldur pale in comparison to what Brund Hammer-Fang brings to the table! You know better than I, you've met the man! Are you seriously going to sit there and tell me that Brund seems like a better choice as High King to you than Baldur?" Guards were approaching the elf now as he erupted out of his seat. "I'm leaving, and I'm taking the boy with me. We'll be fine enough without anymore assistance from...her..." said Maori. "And here. I wasn't going to give you this, figured it was a waste of time. Baldur said that I was to give out these letters in case I came across any Jarls in my travels, to ask for your support in the moot. I still say it's a waste of time but whatever. Do with it as you will." The guard snatched the letter from Maori's hand before he could throw it at her. He protested of course, but the guard ignored him. "Read it please," she said. As the guard prepared to do so, the man parted the seal upon it, and it immediately erupted in smoke. Coughing, the man dropped the parchment on the table, where the smoke gathered before them, and eventually displayed the likeness of Baldur Red-Snow himself. "Well, this is certainly interesting," the smoky apparition said. Looking at the prince, he said, "I can see Theodore in you, but you're way too thin to be him. How goes the king? Couldn't make it I take it?" "What in the blazes??" said Elisif. "What is this?!" "Calm down, it's the workings of my own court mage. He calls himself a druid. Right now, we're all subconsciously communicating through something called a dreamsleeve transmission. It's something similar to what the Thalmor use to communicate, but less efficient since everyone can hear me instead of just Elisif. But no matter. This may be better seeing as how you've got important guests." "Impressive," Sybille said, speaking mostly to herself. Roland said, "No, Jarl Red-Snow, he could not make it. He and my mother are doing well. I'm Prince Roland, heir to the throne of High Rock. This," he motioned to his left, "is my grandmother, Lady Gaerhart, and the man next to her is Duke Theirry, our admiral. We've come in my parent's place." Baldur bowed his head in respect. "I'm very grateful that you've come all this way in his stead, especially you, Lady Gaerhart. I've heard that name before, even in Skyrim, though I confess I don't know the origin. I trust you've met Daric? He's... my ward, son of Maric." Roland bowed back. "We met him. My guards and I saved him and your elven courier. We haven't had much time to talk, unfortunately. He was injured and is still recovering." "I was saddened to miss you when you passed through Daggerfall," Lady Gaerhart said, before Elisif or any of the other members of her court could interject. "I understand you and your wife met my husband, the late King Dilborn. I know he did not give you any assurances of Breton support at the time, but I hope our attendance at this moot demonstrates our commitment to fighting the Thalmor. Even if my old bones may not be able to make it to the top of your mountain." Elisif was getting increasingly annoyed by the hijacking of her company, to Maori's great pleasure. Baldur smiled and said, "Ah, that must've been when I heard your name! So much has happened since... And please believe me when I say this indeed shows me your people's commitment to fighting the Thalmor. Daric has showed me first hand the fighting spirit of your people. It'll be an honor to have you with us. And if you can't make it up the mountain, I'm sure I can have someone carry you! This isn't something you'll want to miss... Oh, and when we meet, communicating may be a bit of an issue until after the moot, you see I...." Baldur's image began to fade as he attempted to explain and the Bretons and Elisif's court could hear the voice of an old man whispering in some forgotten language. "Can't go into detail right now. We're only speaking now because we're connected via our minds. This dreamsleeve transmission is usually maintained by a mage's mind, which I am not. And my Druid is attending business elsewhere. If we can, we must find more of these scrolls the Thalmor have and master the art ourselves. Cyrodiil might know more. In the meantime I must part, I..." "Enough of this! Jarl Baldur, you have shown this court the utmost disrespect! This...you...do you have anything to say for yourself and what you're doing? Ash King indeed!" Baldur turned to Elisif once more, visibly annoyed. Maori said, "She plans to side with Brund Hammer-Fang you know. She's to be his second wife if he wins..." "Really," he said. "Know this, I will be your King and neither Brund or you can change that. What you do now to delay this only serves the Thalmor and puts Skyrim and my family in further danger, as well as all of Tamriel. Think hard on those implications when you meet me." Standing abruptly she said, "You dare threaten me?! I am not afraid of the likes of you!" "It's no threat," he said. "I will not waste more than words on you. Killing you is beneath me. If you had any Nord pride, you'd do that yourself and end the sorrow I sense in you for your late husband. Rather than shame him further by laying with the Bull." He turned to Roland and said with a smile, "Ours I mean." Elisif shot him a look of venom very much unlike her that even made Maori nervous considering whose palace they were in. Her hand reached out as if she wanted to crush the little smokey apparition of Baldur, but it fell back. She wanted to maintain what dignity yet still remained. "This conversation is over. Yol." The word was thought, not said, but they all heard it anyway. Flame encompassed them all and their minds were overcome with Ehlnofex and daedric characters, then a series of 1's and 0's before ancient Draconic began corrupting the code. The last thing they heard before waking up was Baldur saying, "And thank you for protecting Maori and the boy. They are both very dear to me." "It seems the Nords have found magic yet," Lady Gaerhart said, eliciting a smile from Sybille and the other Bretons. The tension in the room didn't dissipate, however, and no one had yet started eating again. Roland offered a new topic for conversation. "Jarl Elisif, has news made it here of the Roscreans returning to Tamriel? We met one of theirs in Farrun, and are sending emissaries to their island. It's my understanding Solitude used to control the island. Will you start trading with them once again?" For a moment it seemed like Elisif hadn't heard them at all, and she didn't respond until Falk cleared his throat. That was the first time she noticed that he'd returned as well. He nodded, letting her know the boy was taken care of. "Trade with the Roscreans, yes I'm sure the sailors will be happy that they don't need to make any long voyages to do so. Occasionally they'd return with stories of their strange people, fantastical stories about talking giants and so on." Her eyes didn't meet any of theirs as she spoke. "There's no reason not to trade with them, and the goods would find their way here from other holds anyway if they're really wandering around Skyrim. We may as well be one of the first." "Do you see any sort of threat from them?" Duke Theirry asked, looking between Falk and Elisif. "If they took to piracy, they would be a formidable force." "I agree, they would be. And given how the Thalmor like to do things in the shadows, it's something that we should consider a possibility," said Falk. "Wouldn't you agree, Jarl Elisif?" "I think that not only does opening ourselves to such a risk seem stupid at this stage of our war prep with the Thalmor, it also seems that if we were going to take such a risk, the new Jarl of Windhelm should have consulted the rest of the Jarls before doing so. We don't know much of anything about them, and now they're fiddling with magic that is not our own, and using it so brazenly in my palace?" Falk cleared his throat again and said, "But I'm sure it wouldn't come to that. They are supposed to be Nords, of a sort after all. Solitude will lead the effort in assuring that these Roscreans will have no need to resort to piracy. In fact, an island nation could prove useful in guarding our trade routes, watching out for enemy ships and so on, if they're to help us in the war. High Rock should think about making an effort to speak with them as well I think, especially while you're in Skyrim. Don't you think Jarl Elisf?" "...of course," she said. "That would be wise." "An emissary is headed to Roscrea as we speak. He will help establish diplomatic relations with their rulers. But I will try and speak to this druid Jarl Red-Snow has employed. The man who visited High Rock did so in the druids' authority, but was not one himself," Roland said. "How are your people readying themselves for war?" asked Jarl Elisif, seemingly snapping out of her bad mood. "I'm curious, even if I myself am not taking an active role, the possibility of becoming Queen makes me want to look for out of the box solutions and be aware of what my allies are capable of." Duke Thierry said, "We spent several weeks clearing the northern and western waters of pirates. It was good practice for our marines and mages, as well as the many sailors who had little fighting experience." "We also recently partnered with the Direnni, so our mages can learn how to best combat Elven magic. And our levies are drilling as much as they can. Our knights, of course, are always prepared. We stand ready to fight once the war begins," Roland said. "These Direnni, I've read about them before. They partnered with Hoag Merkiller once upon a time to fight against the Alessian Cult. I suppose we can trust them then?" "That was a long time ago," said Maori, not so thrilled about the prospect. "Though, some of them may have actually remembered those days. Who knows with mages, and how long they live. Any thoughts on that, court mage?" Maori narrowed his eyes, gauging her reaction. Sybille sipped from her wine glass and licked the excess off her lips. "Everyone knows mages live longer. And Altmer have naturally longer lifespans. Not to mention whatever unnatural means they might use. The Telvanni are rumored to use necromancy, for instance. But the Alessian Cult was so long ago, as you so astutely stated, so chances are no one is still alive that was then. And even if they were, they would be far from human." "Elves are far from human. Or do you mean something else? Like a lich, or a vampire?" said Maori, smirking. "Obviously the latter," she said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "I should have expected a Bosmeri bumpkin to get caught up in semantics and completely miss my meaning. I meant that anyone who had lived so long would no longer be a whole person. Lich, vampire, necromancer, whatever magic they used to live from the time of the Alessian Cult until now would take something from them. Such a long and unnatural life has its costs." "Maori, maybe you should go check on your friend," Roland offered, as everyone at the table watched the court mage and messenger square off. They had all stopped eating by now. Lady Gaerhart said, "A sensible idea. He's had a trying day, after all." Maori kept his glare with Sybille for an awkwardly long time. Finally he smiled and said, "Perhaps you're right. I've lost my appetite anyway. Too much bloody meat in my diet. Here, perhaps you'd like to finish my plate," said Maori, dropping a very large portion of rare beef in front of her over the fruit she was slowly nibbling on, blood oozing from where he'd bitten it last. Grinning, he said, "In the name of the Jarl of Windhelm, I apologize for the state of your evening, your grace. I sincerely hope your color returns before you arrive at the moot. Ta-ta." Falk moved as though he was going to throw the Bosmer back into the dungeon, but Elisif shook her head. "Leave him be," she said. "The size of the snowberries on that mer..." he said under his breath. "I must apologize too," she said to her guests. "I came at you with an agenda, when I'm sure what you wanted most was a good meal and rest. I hope you can forgive me, my home's well-being is at stake, as is all of our homes. You handled yourselves well, and regardless of what happens, I do hope that Solitude and High Rock will continue to have a beneficial and friendly relationship with one another." "That is my hope, and my parents' hope, as well," Roland said. Lady Gaerhart added, "You and your husband were always good friends to our citizens and traders, and we would like that to continue. Best of luck at the moot." Elisif nodded, doing her best to smile. "My palace is open to you all, stay for as long as you like. If you'll excuse me I have a letter to write, then I'll be turning in for the evening. Sybille? Please see to our guest. Whatever differences you two have should be reconciled. I don't want to hear any arguing from you two tomorrow at the breakfast table." "Of course, Jarl Elisif," Sybille said. She stood, bowed, and then left at a brisk pace to the guest rooms. She cast a defect life spell and saw Maori alone in his room, so she entered without knocking and locked the door behind her. She said, "Insolent elf. You won't be so impertinent next time." Maori jumped at the sound of her voice, not hearing her approach once again. All of his weapons were gone, but he had a kitchen knife he snagged from the dinner table, coated with garlic. "There, you smell that, she-witch? I know I'm not crazy. I know what you are! Guards!" "No one can hear you, the room is muffled," she said, and with a wave of her hand sent the knife skittering across the floor. She raised her hands and pinned Maori in a chair. "You should know, I'm not going to kill you. Or even hurt you, much, though you likely deserve it. But you cannot be allowed to spread these rumors about me." "I'll come back for you someday, you snaggle toothed bitch. I always bite back. So just get it over with already." Sybille smiled to reveal her fangs. "I somehow doubt you will, this time." She waved her hand and Maori was knocked unconscious. She leaned over him and drank from the vein in his neck, taking her time and drinking him for every drop she needed. When she was finished, she opened his mouth and poured down a potion to stop his turning, then healed away her bite marks with a quick spell. And to ensure he'd never utter her secret, she placed one hand on each temple and began the spell. Red tendrils stretched between her hands and over his head as she muttered under her breath. She probed deep into his mind, searching for the memories and feelings of their previous encounters. She found them, laced with fear and hate, and pulled them out with the crimson tendrils. She conjured a bottle and stored the memories, which were always useful for certain rituals and spells. With that she dissipated the spells in the room and left Maori sleeping in his chair. Daric came barging in sometime later that night, brow tensed up and as always sporting a bad attitude. "What did Baldur say? What's going on?" He demanded, but the elf was out cold. Daric walked over, shook him like a rag doll, then heard the clammer of a mead bottle rolling over the stone floor. "Pfft, light weight. I thought you didn't drink our liquor though..." he said, but he didn't put much further thought into it. His tales of elven fermented meat juice always sounded like drakeshit anyway. Grabbing Maori by the collar, Daric lifted the elf and their gear he stole back from the guards and snuck out of the palace in the thick of night. On his way out he heard two things that gave him pause. The first, the sound of a woman sobbing down a dark corridor, and what he thought must've been a... chuckle? Either way, he was glad to leave the palace and Solitude behind for good.
  6. 4 points
    Phew I finished my first day of work today (That wasn't volunteer work) at a local restaurant and catering business called Grow, Worked my butt off but at my age 8.50$ an hour isn't bad for a part time job. Got there about six minutes untill 10:00 and left around 3:00. You can't be sensitive or lazy over there, Boss lady can get very stressed out and angry which was the case today due to a huge workload and will both yell and push your ass out of the way. All in all it was tough but I'm going back tomorrow.
  7. 3 points
    Thanks for the synopsis and timeline, Doc! That is very helpful and interesting. I'd suggest putting something like that in your Resource thread.
  8. 3 points
    I really dont like how they just recycled the name for SWBF. Wont hold my breath for this one, they've been dropping the ball hard lately.
  9. 3 points
    Boone Patton The Soupy Mutant. He was walking along the path back to his family's ranch house just a little ways outside of San Antone. Having just turned sixteen years old his father decided he was old enough to make the trip for various goods the family needed. He was carrying a bag with some rope, a couple jugs of water and two boxes of .45 ammunition for his father’s old Colt. He was just a corner away from his house now and something wasn’t right. The air was stiff, hot, he looked up and could see a large column of smoke floating up into the sky. He dropped the supplies he was carrying as he took off in a dead sprint. Rounding the corner he saw them, a tribal raiding band from the Southern Brush. He was stopped dead in his tracks as the leader turned to face him. His ugly, rotting flesh flaking away from his mouth as he smiled and laughed that coarse, terrible, ghoul laugh…. Patton jumped awake knocking his tan straw cowboy hat off his head. He looked at the empty whiskey bottle in his hand and rubbed his hand across his forehead. He could feel the headache coming on and knew that drinking so much was a mistake. Just then he heard the grinding of a chair scooting back from a table split the silence of the room and realized that everyone was looking at him once again. “Oh, whats this? Is little mister cowboy waking up from his little nap?” The man addressing Boone was one of the patrons playing poker when he had walked in. The man was about 6’2” and around 29 years old with a shiny bald head and was wearing leather armor. He walked slowly over to Patton’s chair with a smirk on his face and leaned in, “Now who are you supposed to be little man? Texas Red? Ha..ahaha….. I think the cat got his tongue boys!” He turned face his friends still at the table, “What do you say we show this boy here a good ole’ Wellstone welcome.” “Why don’t you and your fuckin’ buddies go jerk each other off somewhere else.” Patton said sitting up in his chair just a tad bit. He counted three in total and knew he could probably take them if he could power through this hangover he’d cooked up. The man, now without the smirk turned back towards Patton, “Now, what was that boy? I don’t think you understand the situati-” Before he could finished his sentence the empty whiskey bottle came crashing down on his head. It cracked with the blow, but knocked the man out cold. Shoving the man off of him with his free hand, Patton could see the other two getting to their feet. He jumped up and in a quick movement chucked the bottle at the nearest man’s face. The man managed to dodge the bottle, but was obviously taken back by the speed of the attack. Patton saw his opportunity and charged at the man drawing his combat knife from its sheath. He grabbed the man’s right arm and slammed it on the table. Following up with his knife, he stabbed clear through the man's hand and into the table. Leaving the knife stuck in his opponent he grabbed the man’s head and smashed it as hard as he could into the table’s corner. He turned ready to attack the last man,only to catch sight of his back as he fled from the bar. Sighing, Patton walked back over to the chair he was sat in earlier, careful not to step on the man passed out on the floor, and picked up his hat. Scratching his head and putting the hat back on he walked over to the bartender who was cowering behind the counter. Patton dug in his satchel for a second bringing up his coin pouch and grabbing two gold coins, setting them on the counter he said, “Sorry ‘bout that. You got any rooms here?” The bartender stood up straight at the sight of the gold and said, “Uh, yes Sir. Just through that door there. Your room will be on the right. Stay as, uh, stay as long as you’d like.” “Thank you.” With that Patton turned and walked back to the table. He grabbed his knife and yanked it up out of the table and the man’s hand, watching the guy crumple to the floor. Where the man’s hand had been impaled was an ace of diamonds, though the diamond in the center had been replaced by a puncture hole with a blood stain around it. Patton picked the card up and walked through the door to his new room. The room was cramped with a small bed, a chair, and a nightstand with a radio on it. Patton sat in the chair and took off his hat. He took the card he had just acquired and placed it in the hat band on the front just off the left side. He then sat his hat on the bed and grabbed the strap of his satchel bringing it over his head and setting it down next to his hat. He kicked his feet up on the bed and leaned back in the chair, he reached over to the radio and turned it on just in time to hear the last part of some speech. “Do not be afraid. The Brotherhood of Steel is here to help, and we will not rest until all true citizens of Wellstone are safe to live in peace. We are the technological saviors of mankind, and we will save this city.” Patton had dozed off once again.
  10. 3 points
    Let me know if this is not detailed enough or if there is anything you want me to expand or clarify on. So back in the 2190s, the Brotherhood of Steel (who then only existed in California) had a major schism that was basically over the issue that Veronica raised during New Vegas. Their isolationist tendencies were making them weak, and were creating more enemies than friends. This schism led to the Elders sending all of the "open-door" faction on a mission in pursuit of the Master's super mutants that survived the end of Fallout 1 and fled across the Rockies. You can find most of what happened next in a synopsis for Fallout Tactics. Long story short, the faction went rogue and started to build their own nation in the Midwest, starting in Chicago and expanding south and west encompassing Missouri, Kansas, and some of Colorado. Their General, a man named Barnaky, integrated his brain with a supercomputer in Vault 0 (the Nucleus vault, located under Mt. Cheyenne) and took control of a robot army. Barnaky was a hardline "anti-mutant"/"pro-humanity" hard-ass, so the first thing he did was declare himself High Elder and set to work rounding up all mutants (who, up until this point, were allowed to live freely and even join the BoS if they wanted) into gulags. You saw the results of that in the video from the other day. It led to rebellion in the form of the Mutant Liberation Army. They stood against the Brotherhood for many years, but eventually were defeated. The war was costly, and resulted in the BoS losing lots of soldiers, Barnaky's robot manufacturing systems being damaged, and a large chunk of Missouri being reduced once again to anarchy (this area is called "The Lost Lands". Any raiders, gangs, hostile tribals, and runaway mutants tend to find themselves out here). This RP takes place 24 years after the MLA was beaten, in a region called "The Belt" (basically prewar Missouri and some surrounding areas). The Brotherhood has been licking its wounds and rebuilding during this time. But even though the physical MLA is gone, a certain rebel sentiment still remains, particularly in the city of Wellstone, which used to be prewar Kansas City. It is large and prosperous by new world standards, thanks to the Brotherhood, but rebels have started to crop up again, and Barnaky wants them taken care of. He also wants the Lost Lands to be reclaimed, especially St. Louis (now called Gateway City), which is run by the remnants of Gammorin's super mutant army under a mutant named Jaxton. The first few posts of the RP have detailed the Brotherhood's newly formed army from Chicago arriving in Wellstone with the intent to quell the rebels there before eventually moving on east to defeat the mutants. Sorry, this wasn't just a paragraph or two, but even now I don't feel like I have summed everything up as well as I could've. Thanks to all the help that's gone into planning for this, it's ended up being pretty big. Also, here is a timeline of major events. It's a little long, but easy to follow.
  11. 3 points
    Madame Afternoon Top floor of The Rose Garden Rose sat in her office looked the entries over the last month's incomes and expenditure. She wore a light yellow dress in simple pre-war fashion with a long lofty skirt and sleeves reaching down to her elbows. Not the most flattering dress she had, but she liked to wear it because it was quite comfortable. Her office was large and sat on the top floor of the building with one wall dominated by a window looking out over the plaza outside and the Town Hall on the other side of it. The window was a one way mirror to make sure no one outside could look into her office. Mostly because Rose valued her privacy when holding the occasional meeting with a Brotherhood agent, but also because it would make sure no assassin could try to snipe her if she ever made a dangerous enemy. The rest of her office was rather empty save for the large desk she sat by in the middle of the room with her back turned to the window and facing towards the double doors going into the office. There was another door to Rose's left leading to her bedroom, and to her right there were a few half empty bookshelves along with a cushioned couch and armchair along with a small table in the far corner. Besides the double doors stood a clothes hanger holding a few coats in green, grey and blue and on the other side stood Rose's robotic bodyguard Lin (or L1N as it was written in huge letters on her chest) like a statue, ever vigilant in a way that no human could be, and also occasional clothes hanger as well. Rose looked over the numbers and transactions. Business looked to be going rather well as usual. Even with the final number landing on a minus, something that could be largely attributed to the medical clinic Rose had opened that month. She expected it to start paying for itself this month and start making a profit in about a year or two. A decent enough clinic that could serve the folk unwilling to wait for the Hospitallers to give them treatment. Closing the ledger she looked at the clock on the wall and realized she had to get going or else be late for her meeting with Clara. It was simple friendly meeting they had about once each month. They weren't exactly the best of friends but then again it was nice to have someone to talk to once in a while that understood how it is to run a business and handle so much wealth, while also not ending as the friend asking for a loans. And then again, Rose figured one could never have enough friends among the proper people in the city. Rose got up from the chair and looked at Lin for a second and made a simple hand gesture to signal Lin that she should now follow her. Rose picked her blue coat and headed out. She took the personell elevator (one the only three working and the other two where for clients as well) down to the ground floor where she headed out through a small side entrance for employees of the building. It was largely empty save a simple guard, a big, burly man in a black suit and sunglasses. Outside the staff only entrance was another assaultron standing guard. Rose started walking down the street towards Clara's Casino & Cabaret at a brisk pace with Lin in tow. In the distance to the east along 12th Street she could make out the crater that the rebel bomb had left in the street and the dented and beaten up facade of the skyscraper next to it. Seeing it made her a little worried about her own brothel, but she then quickly pushed such thoughts out of her mind and continued on. Clara's was two blocks to the south and one block to the east. It was a pleasant day for a walk, the weather of early fall cool with a crisp but light breeze. Rose passed by shoppers who peeked in shop windows and guards who patrolled the mayor's hall grounds. Clara's Cabaret and Casino was in the President Hotel, one of the older buildings still standing in Wellstone. It was a squat brown brick building of about 13 stories, with white stone framing around the first two and last two floors. The old sign atop the building, which once read "PRESIDENT" now said "RESIDE" and a new sign had been added beneath it to it read "RESIDE HERE". Given the number of rooms in the hotel, there were some who chose to live there more or less permanently, which Clara was happy to oblige. Entering underneath the metal awning that covered the doors, Rose took a quick look at the lobby. A gallery wrapped around the lobby, so those on the second floor could see into it. A chandelier had clearly once hung from the center of the ceiling but now a regular light hung in its place. Moving through the lobby brought Rose into what was formerly the ballroom. Now a stage stood on the far end, heavy curtains covered the windows, and the lighting was low and dim. Booths and tables were spread out around the room, while a bar sat on the wall across from the windows, near the doors that led to the kitchen. Being the middle of the day, the cabaret wasn't quite full, though there were a few groups lounging about, only half-listening to the pop song the young man on stage was singing. Clara sat in her usual place, in a booth on the left, beneath the window closest to stage. She wore a red dress that left her shoulders bare, so she wore a shawl as well. She was older than Rose, and dark where Rose was pale. Clara spotted Rose and smiled and motioned for her to join. The music drowning out their conversation to any potential eavesdroppers, Clara said, "What'll you be drinking, honey?" "Some tea, thank you," said Rose before taking off her coat and hanging it over one of Lin's arms and then taking the seat opposite of Clara. Clara motioned toward the bar and a thick-bearded man quickly came over. "Bring us some tea, if you would, Jesse." When the man left, Clara turned to Rose and said. "I heard you opened a new business. A clinic, I think it was." "Yes. I noticed there wasn't a decent enough clinic on this side of town and I happened to get into contact with a couple of Hospitaller doctors looking for a good retirement plan, so I figured opening up a little clinic would be a good move," said Rose. "Well that was kind of you. With your backing I can see it doing a lot of good," Clara said. "Are you looking for any investors? I'm always looking for a good cause worth donating towards." The clinic was not really going to be a charity, but Rose figured Clara would know that or she would have donated that money to the Hospitallers. "Well I could use a cheaper source for medicine. I've noticed prices tend to fluctuate and it makes it harder to keep the clinic affordable for decent folk." "And that is a pity," Clara said. "I don't personally deal too much in that sort of thing, but I have an old friend that does. I'll see if he could help you out any. I'm sure I could smooth talk him into some fair prices." "Thank you. I appreciate it," said Rose with a small friendly smile. "Oh it's my pleasure. If only we would all help decent people, like you do," Clara said, returning the friendly smile and giving Rose's hands a quick pat. Jesse returned with their tea, setting the cups down along with some sugar. "Thank you," Clara said, and then dropped in two cubes and stirred them in. Rose herself mixed in three cubes into the tea before carefully taking a little sip. "Thanks. Though I'm sure you also help a lot of people if you like noble causes." "I give some money to the orphanage in Forgotten Homes, and to the Hospitallers," Clara said. "And when I was on the council I pushed for more resources to go towards cleaning up the Forgotten Homes. But the mayor twiddled his thumbs and didn't move on that." "Yeah, I think I remember you mentioning something about that. I can never imagine me sitting on the council." "One term was enough for me, once I saw how little they really did, and that the mayor made the final call on just about everything," Clara said. "Though now even he doesn't have any say. I would've loved to see the look on his face when that Brotherhood officer came in and took over." "I'm pretty sure he thought: 'Great, now I got an excuse to not have to work at all. I still get to keep my office and salary right?' " Rose did a lighthearted chuckle. "Sadly that's probably how it went," Clara said. "At least now, with the Brotherhood really in charge, this city might get cleaned up a bit." "Let's hope they start with Forgotten Homes. That place could really need some cleanup." Rose hoped they would keep their word and make that place decent and safe. Enough so she could acquire the last piece of the city's prostitution market that stood between her and a monopoly. "I'm sure they will, if only because I imagine most of the rebels are hiding in the squalor and filth of that district," Clara said, her lip curling slightly in disgust. "Have you heard any nice news though?" Rose asked, hoping to change the subject to something lighter. "I heard Bush is shooting a new movie. I don't remember what this one'll be about, but that's something to look forward too," Clara said. "Something with explosions probably." Rose laughed a little. "Probably just another sequel. What's he up in, two-three Blood and Steel?" "I think this one'll be the third," Clara said. "It's hard to say, I can't actually remember what happened in the previous two. Besides that ridiculous outfit that poor woman wore. I'd like to see any woman that can fight mutants in heels like she did." "You mean Velvet? Some of my girls really adore her. Got them dreaming about becoming movie stars." "I can see why, she's as pretty as they come. But that director doesn't have a clue about what women really wear. He can make a hell of an explosion, though." "And I guess that's what keeps his movies from being a failure. Good action and pretty ladies keeps people entertained." Rose remembered how she had one time hired out some of her girls to star as extras in one of his movies. They had certainly been nothing more than eye candy for some scene. "I do wonder how long it can last. But so long as the wasteland exists, I imagine people'll be looking for some way to escape it. His movies at least provide that," Clara said, taking another sip of her tea. "I think people will always be looking to escape the boredom of their daily lives. That's why we can remain in business." Rose sounded a little cheerful as she said the last sentence. "Escape boredom? Hell, when they go to your place or come into mine, they forget there was ever a thing such as boredom!" Clara responded, equally cheery. Rose laughed softly. "Cheers to people being bored and having too much coin," she said and raised the tea cup half playfully. Clara clinked her cup to Rose's and chuckled. "And now with the Brotherhood arriving, we'll have even more customers. I imagine our rooms will be packed full just about every night." "Let's hope so." Rose took a sip from her tea. "I've been thinking about buying big boat." "A boat? I never took you for the sailing type," Clara said, the look on her face amused and interested. "What'll you do with a boat? "Just something I can use to travel out of the city with; without really having to give up the comforts of a home." "I didn't realize you left the city that often. Do you have businesses elsewhere, or travel to escape the hustle and bustle of Wellstone?" "I've never really left the city since I arrived. Nor I have I ever been on a boat travelling the river," Rose said sincerely. "That's why I would like one to travel out of the city with. Just to get away from it all for a little while." "It certainly sounds like a fun idea. I've heard the country up river is quite pretty. You could even travel up to Omaha, if you wanted," Clara said, her voice sounding a little wistful. "I wish I had traveled more, in my lifetime. Though I suppose it isn't too late." "If I get a big enough boat I think I can take guests with me in the trip." "Oh don't mind me. I wasn't trying to pressure you into bringing me along. You take those girls and guys of yours first and foremost. As hard as they work, they're the ones that deserve a trip up the river." "I guess I can bring a few of the girls along for the trip. Though I still don't know how big of a boat I can get. I don't even know of any shipbuilders." "I imagine there's a salvaged boat you could buy. Or maybe scoop up one of those casino barges that float the river. Take out a competitor of mine too." Clara chuckled lightly and took another sip of her tea. Rose chuckled a little as well. "That will probably be a possibility if it's the only good option I can find. But first you got to make money to spend money. I sure hope those Brotherhood folks are a horny bunch." And that they got some standards to not visit that filth in Forgotten Homes. Rose thought to herself. "After that long march, they'll be lining up around the block to get into your place," Clara said. "No, I think your problem will be keeping 'em coming around. If they stay in town long enough they'll fall for some local guy or gal, and then your services won't be required." "I think a real problem will be if anyone falls in love with one of my girls. Don't want any delusional Romeo thinking he can run away with one of my employees." "I'm sure if you introduce him to Lin here his head'll be cleared right up." "If they have to meet Lin, they have already in way over their heads." "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Based on the impression I got from their commander, they'll be kept on a tight leash." "Let's hope so. And let's hope he values the contributions our businesses do for his men and this city," Rose said and took a sip of the now lukewarm tea. She remember that commander and figured he was a rather decent fellow. "He had better. Without our businesses this town wouldn't be near as interesting." "It definitely would not." Rose looked to the singer on the stage. She found the song adequate but not really to her taste. "Got any new performances as of late?" Clara sighed and a frown grew upon her lips. "No, I haven't. Worse than that, I had one of my singers leave. He headed up to Chicago. So now I'm searching for a replacement." "That's too bad. Ever thought about putting a stage play?" "I'll leave those to the theaters. People seem to enjoy singers the most anyway. They can listen without paying too much attention. Every time I've tried something else it's never lasted long." "Ah, well. Can't succeed at everything." "So long as my singers keep bringing people in for food and drinks, I'll be more than happy to keep things the same," Clara said. "If you hear of anyone looking for a singing job, point them my way, if you would." "If I stumble across anyone good, I'll point them towards you." "Thank you," Clara said. "Would you like some more tea?" "No thank you." Rose checked her watch and saw that it was getting late. "How time flies. I think I should get back to my Garden." "It's been a lovely time, as always," Clara said. She stood and hugged Rose, and said, "Until next time." Rose gave her a light hug back before stepping towards Lin and taking her coat. "Take care now. Goodbye." "Goodbye," replied Clara.
  12. 3 points
    Thanks. I was very unsure about what to do with Garret for his first post till BT let me read the opening for his post. For some reason I figured turrets was a good way to introduce him. And of course when there's a few dozen turrets strewn throughout the fort I doubt anyone would actually bother to remember exactly which one is where.
  13. 3 points
  14. 3 points
    Good post, Witch. While not a lot happened, it did a good job of establishing Garret. He seems to be something of a tech master in terms of the fort. Cody is a cool companion for him to have, and I particularly enjoyed the way he fumbled through the turrets to get the best views and sounds. It felt very realistic.
  15. 3 points
    I've made this thread to serve as a place for us to compile all of the character sheets. This way, they will be easy for anyone to find and refer back to. In addition, other OOC resources that relate to the RP (such as maps or faction descriptions) can also be posted here. This thread isn't for chatting or discussing content. The only posts that go up here should be RP resources that have already been approved in the main OOC discussion thread. The original plan was to have the world map ready by the time I posted this, but there was a setback in finishing it up, so in the meantime, I'm just going to post the Wellstone map and edit in the world one when it's ready. Map of Wellstone
  16. 3 points
    The Paladin Lord It was a glorious day for the Brotherhood. And, by extension, Alan Ogawa. Hundreds of knights, paladins, and scribes marched behind him in straight lines. The knights held their weapons firmly across their chests. The motors in the paladins’ power armor whirred with every step. They’d marched a quick five miles to arrive in Wellstone by midday, keeping a good pace and disciplined formation the entire time. Even the scribes managed to keep up, though they were beginning to drift out of formation as they tired. Alan motioned to them with a nod, and one of the senior scribes barked out an order to maintain formation, and they quickly straightened out. The force the Elders sent from Chicago had a long journey. From Chicago to Davenport on the 88, and then Interstate 80 to Des Moines and Interstate 35 to Wellstone. They made the journey on foot, only the older and weaker scribes riding the flatbed transport trucks that followed. A few tanks and infantry fighting vehicles trailed behind them. Alan himself had walked with his men, but as they traveled into the city, he stood from the front hatch of the infantry fighting vehicle that was leading the army into Wellstone. They marched down the highway and into the Northstone District. It was a middle class neighborhood, Alan knew, with most of its houses and buildings built since the Brotherhood took control. That was before he was born, and since then Wellstone had become a place of peace and prosperity. Alan surveyed the district from his vantage point atop the IFV. The quaint houses and shops of the district stretched out, some of them painted in lively colors, most with small yards or gardens. It looked the part of an artisan’s district. His transport moved towards the Missouri River. The central tower of the suspension bridge came into view, a thin needle when seen from a distance. The bridge looked no worse for wear, considering the decades and war it had seen. The engineers had certainly done excellent work keeping it in such a good shape. Alan knew they’d have even more chances to improve Wellstone besides maintaining its bridges. He had plans for the city, ones that would show the strength and security the Brotherhood offered, in ways the rebels could never match. The noon sun reflected in the lazy waters below the bridge as the army crossed into Wellstone proper. The old part of town. They marched through the heart of the Steel District, with the smoke rising from the factories to their east. It was clearly a poorer place than the Northstone District, but the people here were stout and welcoming. A few cheered at the arrivals. The citizens here knew better than anyone why the Brotherhood army was here, and when Alan drove through the intersection where the rebel bomb had blown up a weapons shipments, he could still see the blood of those injured; two knights, along with a husband and wife one their way to lunch. None would die, but one knight would lose her leg, and the other his fingers. Alan left it behind and continued on, his expression softening at the warm reception, despite the scene of the attack he left behind. He had expected to be welcomed, but it still made him glad to hear the cheers for himself. The army had turned west now, and marched through the heart of the Market District. It was the busiest by far, but the roads were cleared for the army’s arrival. A few impatient brahmin carts tried to squeeze around the edges, but for the most part people stopped and waited. Alan couldn’t see where the second rebel bomb went off, but he could see its target. Rising from the heart of the city was the Brotherhood Lookout Tower. It was thick and solid, a series of steel blocks, successively smaller, stacked one atop the other. Private apartments filled the lower floors, and a lookout station inhabited the upper floors. From there they could monitor the city for any emergency. The bomb had gone off at its base, and done some light damage to the first three floors. Two scribes and three knights leaving their shift were killed. But more than even those deaths, that attack was a message. And Alan was commanding the Brotherhood’s response. The army seemed to pick up their pace as the entered the Gold District, for they all could see the walls of the Brotherhood headquarters towering over the large, elegant houses of the upper class neighborhood. Even more than the Steel District, the citizens here cheered for the arriving soldiers. The carriages stopped and the well-dressed denizens leaned out to wave their hats at the soldiers. Here the houses were older, as this was the upper class district of the old Gravestone. Now it and the Emerald Gardens housed the city’s richest citizens, but all the oldest Wellstone families lived here. Alan exited his vehicle, taking off his black beret and running a hand through his hair. He had to look the part of Paladin Lord, as well as act it. The commander in charge of the Brotherhood headquarters met him in front of the main gate and saluted. He was a solidly built man, a hair taller than Alan but not quite as muscular. A trimmed blonde beard covered his cheeks and hid a few scars. “The command is yours, Paladin Lord Ogawa.” Alan saluted back. “Thank you, Commander Kelman. Have the western forces arrived?” “Yes sir. They arrived yesterday.” “And their numbers?” “Fewer than expected, sir. Only groups from Junction and Bunker Delta have arrived.” “And are the quarters ready for me and my troops?” “Yes sir. Your office is ready as well.” “Thank you, Commander.” Alan spent a moment taking in the fortress. Its central tower, and the tower of the West River checkpoint provided views of both rivers, and of the western part of the city. A strong defensive position if there ever was one. He entered the fortress at the head of his men, on foot. They filled the central courtyard, where all the off duty Brotherhood soldiers already stationed in Wellstone were assembled. The new arrivals filled in alongside, and when they were all in position, Alan addressed them. “Knights, Paladins, Scribes, today is a monumental day. We were honored with the duty of saving this town from rebels and terrorists. We begin that mission today. From here on out, each and every one of you has a duty to our fallen comrades to avenge them. You must do your part, follow your orders, and follow in the footsteps of Barnaky and our Elders. Together, we will root out these rebels, and make Wellstone safe, once and for all,” Alan saluted, and in unison thousands of heels snapped together and saluted back. “You are dismissed. Your squad commanders will relay to you your orders.” A well-oiled suit of power armor, each limb of the Brotherhood moved smoothly and effortlessly. The soldiers disbanded into their squads, and immediately began fulfilling their orders. Two squads stood by, their commanders awaiting Alan’s departure. Alan approached them and asked, “Knight Commanders, are your squads ready?” Both said, simultaneously, “Yes sir.” “Good. Follow me.” Alan left the remaining soldiers to carry out their initial orders, while Alan and the two squads guarding him set out the way they came. One squad on either side of his transport, they drove through the Gold District, into the Market District, and then turned south on Broadway. A less imposing sight than the full army, but the citizens still waved and sporadically cheered. They turned east on to 12th Street. A few merchant stands stood just off the streets, selling mostly small items and cheap food. Alan’s gaze lingered on The Rose Garden brothel for a few moments before they drove past. Closer to the brothel stores occupied the buildings, clearly trying to use the brothel’s traffic to their own advantage. A few apartment buildings stood between the brothel and the lookout tower. They parked beneath the northern side, where the scorch marks of the mini nuke reached up to the fourth story. The windows that had been added into the metal sides were blown out, most covered with tarps or pieces of scrap. There was a crater, half in the street and half in the sidewalk. And the metal siding of the first floor showed a dent where the building was closest to the crater. There was no blood at this site, as the radiation scrubbers had cleaned that off as well. Whoever had done this had access to powerful munitions, as the Brotherhood made a point to seize all mini nukes they found. Alan’s first priority would be to find whoever carried out this attack, and whoever attacked the shipment in the Steel District. He suspected it was the same group, but he hadn’t gotten any reports confirming that yet. The perpetrators would be found and brought to justice. He would make an example of them and show the rebels just how powerful an enemy they had. The IFV drove to the corner of the street and turned south. They passed by a brick hotel, ten or so stories, with a white metal sign on its roof that said “Reside Here.” Lighter stone framed the windows. Closer to ground level, above the western and, what Alan could tell was the main entrance, it said “Clara’s Casino & Cabaret.” Alan wondered how many of his men wasted their time there. At least with a brothel the visitors there would get their money’s worth, and not lose it all on rigged games. Soon, they reached their destination, easily marked by the numerous shotgun wielding city guards stationed outside the north entrance. Alan once again straightened his hair, and this time smoothed out the wrinkles of his olive and black jumpsuit, and made sure his plasma defender sidearm was secured in its holster on his hip. He considered wearing his sunglasses, but a few clouds overhead blocked out the sun. He exited, flanked by two knights from each squad. What was now the Mayor’s Hall was once an auditorium. It was an imposing stone building, with solid walls and few windows. It was a monument to the government of a strong and resolute city, even if those inside where weak and ineffectual politicians. Thankfully, the leadership of the city would truly be in Brotherhood hands now, instead of a proxy mayor. Who somehow managed to let rebels rise in Wellstone, although Commander Kelman certainly shared the blame in that. Standing beside the entrance was a thin man with a handsome face, his skin a light brown, darker than Alan’s tan color. He wore a grey overcoat and had a matching fedora, which he was holding in his hand. His black hair was lighter than Alan’s, and swept up in a pompadour style compared to Alan’s more carefully groomed style. And whereas Alan now wore a frown, this man smiled warmly. Alan stopped and saluted, as did the other soldiers. “Inquisitor Welles.” Sterling Welles saluted back and said, “At ease, Paladin Lord Ogawa. I hope your journey was as pleasant as mine. Though the train was certainly more comfortable than your march.” “It was fine, sir.” Alan was no longer saluting, but he was not at ease. He never was around Welles. They entered the building and continued talking. “That’s good to hear. I’m happy you’ve finally arrived. We have much to do.” Sterling’s smile broadened. “You’ll be glad to know I’ve already found a lead.” Alan was not glad, and his frown deepened. “What did you find?” They stopped short of the entrance to the council chambers, and the guards moved out from earshot with a wave from the Inquisitor. “I’ve narrowed down the Market bomb’s suppliers to two black market dealers. One here, the other in South Union. We will soon know where they got the bomb, and not long after who the perpetrators were.” “You work as quickly as ever. Congratulations,” Alan said. “Oh, don’t worry. There’s still plenty for you to do.” He waved dismissively at the door. “They’re all waiting inside. Except for Rose. I had her put in the mayor’s office. You can meet with her once you’re done.” “Have you met with her?” Alan asked. “No, I have people for that. It’s best if I’m not seen, after all.” “Right.” “Well, good luck, Paladin Lord. I’ve got some more hunting to do.” “Good luck to you as well, Inquisitor.” When Sterling was gone, Alan cursed to himself. He knew the Inquisitor would have a head start, but he wasn’t anticipating him narrowing down the bomb’s origin so quickly. At this rate, he’d uncover the rebels before Alan had a chance to even unpack. As much as Alan was looking forward to marching on Gateway City and ridding the Belt of the mutants once and for all, what he really wanted was to find the rebels. The mutants were naturally despicable, but the traitors who fought against the Brotherhood were even worse. There was no excuse for killing humans to help mutants. And rooting out traitors was the surest way of becoming an Inquisitor. Its what his mother had done, and what Welles had done too. And what Alan wanted to do more than anything. Alan breathed deeply and cleared his throat. Finding the rebels would come, in time. He still had things to do before he could start that, after all. He then entered the chamber. The mayor, the eight city councilors, and the chief of police were seated and waiting, but all rose when they saw Alan. Some of the councilors thought about saluting, but ultimately none did. Alan didn’t bother to sit but motioned for them to do so. “I am Paladin Lord Ogawa. You all know why I’m here. From now on, the Brotherhood will be instituting martial law, and your services will no longer be needed.” He waited for any outbursts, and was pleasantly surprised when no one did. Good, they know their place. The mayor, Phil Prassel, a skinny man with wispy hair and a thin goatee, turned slightly red. “I apologize if we’ve disappointed the Brotherhood. We never anticipated attacks like that. No one did.” “This is not a judgment on your leadership. It is simply the will of the Elders that we take control of Wellstone. This will streamline our implementation of any rules and restrictions.” A large-bodied and short woman, who Alan knew ran most of the bicycle repair and refurbishing shops, asked, “And what are those rules and restrictions?” “Whatever we desire. Initially, a mandatory curfew and replacing the guards with our soldiers at the checkpoints. What we decide to do afterwards you will learn with the rest of the citizens.” Alan glanced at the police chief, whose jaw was clinched tight. He knew she wouldn’t like that her guards were being removed, but he would deal with that later. The councilors fidgeted in their chairs. Though they were getting this information before anyone else, the implication was clear that they would be out of the loop going forward. The mayor offered a half-hearted smile and said, “Thank you for letting us know.” “You’re welcome. Now, you may go and clean out your offices. Have the guards assist you if need be. My men can take their place.” The councilors dispersed, leaving Alan with the mayor and the chief of police. Alan asked the mayor, “May I use your office? I would like to practice my speech, if possible.” The mayor nodded, looking like a bobblehead in the process. “Of course, Paladin Lord. I can show you the way.” “No need. Thank you. I will meet with you both before the speech.” Alan didn’t know where the office was, but he also didn’t want the mayor bothering him any more than necessary. He found it quickly enough, up a set of stairs and located right above the east entrance. He stationed a guard on either side of the door and entered. Inside was a rather well decorated office. On the left wall hung a large painting of a man in power armor, heroically standing on a cliff holding up the Brotherhood's flag in the left hand and a laser pistol in the right. Against the right wall was a large bookcase filled with books, binders holding documents and various decorative trinkets. In the middle of the room was a large, somewhat ornate desk with a couple of small cushioned armchairs in front of it. Behind the desk was a larger cushioned armchair that must've been the mayor's chair. In that chair sat a very pretty woman that Alan assumed was Rose. She wore very formal attire that looked like a black suit, just more feminine. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail behind her head and she looked at him with a friendly little smile. "Welcome." she said. Her voice was formal yet friendly, and was oddly pleasant to listen to. "Please, have a seat." she motioned to one of the chairs in front of the desk. Alan sat, his back straight in his usual rigid way, and asked, "I assume you were informed about the dissolution of the government?" "Yes. And I was also informed that today was a good day to do some last minute 'lobbying'." She paused for a second. "I'm not that used to talking to the Brotherhood in person." she said a little apologetically. "I assume this must be important if it can't be conveyed by message." Alan nodded. "It is. You've helped us in the past. I wanted to ensure that your assistance will continue. To root out the rebels we will need all the information you can give us." Alan said, "I don't expect you to do this for free. Know that with the Brotherhood in charge, we can offer you more than the councilors ever could." "Well you see, for my girls to be able to gather information, we'll have to ensure that the right people visit them. Only way to ensure that there's no other place to visit than my Garden. While you have been so kind to overlook my... business practices regarding the inner city, there's still a couple of filthy brothels standing in Forgotten Homes. I'm sure they're violating some kind of health regulation. But so far they've been avoiding legal repercussions with help from criminal gangs." "Consider it done," Alan said. "After this, your arrangement with us will continue as it has in the past. If we need something specific, we'll let you know. And if there's something pressing that you need, I will see that it gets done." "Thank you. Though just remember that this will require absolute discretion on your part. Don't target the brothels. Just clear out the gangs, bring law and order to the district and let the legal system has its course. Of course, I may have some requests on the details that will influence that course. “Also, as my previous contacts already know, I do hope you understand that any information I share may have only been leaked at my brothel. Something the criminals may realize when you make a move against them. And well, we can't have them share that revelation with anyone. My business, and our cooperation relies on it appearing neutral." "We will be discrete. All gangs, and any businesses they use as fronts for their criminal enterprises, will be targeted. Not just the ones that run the brothels. They won't be able to connect us together, and if they do, we can have them sent to Paradise instead of the Wellstone prison. Our top priority is finding the rebels, and anyone who stands in the way of that is directly helping them and will be considered a rebel themselves." Rose smiled. "Perfect. Is there anything else you wish to discuss?" "Yes. We will be instituting a midnight to five a.m. curfew and tightening the checkpoints into the city. I don't know if that will affect your business but I wanted to inform you nonetheless." "It may. Though I may also be able to charge more for people staying in the brothel to avoid breaking the curfew." "Good." Alan stood and offered his hand. "Thank you for your help, Miss Goldwyn." "If you are able to uphold your end, I should be the one to thank you." she said as she shook his hand. Not a very firm but still steady handshake. "And if you ever find yourself in my Garden, I may arrange for a discount on my girls and boys." "I will be sure to remember that," Alan said with a gracious smile. "Good. Now if you excuse me," she said as she got up from the mayor's chair. "It has just come to my attention that the city's government has been dismissed. Not much 'lobbying' I can do here. So I better take my leave." "Of course." Alan opened the door for her. "Have a nice day." "Thanks. It's good to see there are still gentlemen in the world. Goodbye." she said with a small wave of her fingers as she walked out of the room. She then walked down the corridor with firm steps and without looking back. Alan suppressed a laugh at seeing one of the guard’s eyes locked on Rose as she walked away. Though, he had to admit, she was a pretty woman. Still, he was much too busy to be distracted right now. He cleared his throat and the guards snapped back to attention, and they followed him as he walked the opposite direction of Rose, back to the council chambers. The skinny mayor was there waiting for him, seated alongside the police chief, Christine Harrington. She was a tall woman with short red hair, wearing a black ballistic chestplate, gauntlets, and greaves. Her combat helmet and holstered 10 mm pistol were sitting on the table in front of her. She seemed anxious, or at least impatient, judging by way she drummed her fingers on the table. Alan sat down across from them. “Welcome back, Paladin Lord Ogawa,” Mayor Prassel said. Chief Harrington remained silent. Alan said, “I want to thank you both for the work you’ve done for this city and the Brotherhood. Again, the decision to take over is not a reflection on you. But the Brotherhood is simply better equipped and better able to root out the rebels.” “What does this mean for me and my officers?” Chief Harrington asked. “As I understand it, you’re focus has mostly been on criminal gangs. I would like you to continue putting pressure on them, and if possible increase your efforts into stopping them,” Alan said. She was surprised and her fingers stopped drumming. “Oh. I mean, yes sir, we can and will do that.” Alan’s brow furrowed. “Were you expecting something else?” “No. No sir.” “Good. In particular, I would like you to focus your efforts on cleaning up the Forgotten Homes district. Take down the criminal gangs, and any businesses that support them there. I want to send a message that lawlessness will not to be tolerated in Wellstone any longer.” Mayor Prassel had a pained expression on his face at that remark. Though Alan was trying to keep the blame off their shoulders as a matter of courtesy, he did blame them for allowing the rebels to take root in Wellstone. Though their failure gave him a chance for great success. Alan continued, “Mayor Prassel, you can remain here as a civilian liaison. You will have no power to take actions yourself, but given the city council is no longer here to receive citizen questions and propositions, you will field them for the Brotherhood and file daily reports to us. We will take any actions we then deem necessary.” The Mayor did his bobblehead nod once again and said, “Thank you, Paladin Lord. I will be more than glad to help, in any way I can.” “That’s good to hear.” Alan stood and shook both their hands, and noted how limp and weak the Mayor’s was. He had little faith the man could succeed even in this new, lesser role. “I have a speech to give, so if you will excuse me.” “Thank you again,” Prassel said, while Chief Harrington simply nodded. Alan left the room and the building. His transport was waiting for him, and set off as soon as he entered. They headed to the far southeast corner of the Market District, where the Wellstone radio station was. Once they drove out of the tall buildings of downtown, Alan could see the dull grey transmission tower. The red and white paint had long since faded. Alan put that on his mental list of improvements to be made. Paint would help keep the metal from rusting, and it wouldn’t take long to paint the tower. He even suspected he could get the scribes to engineer a Mr. Handy to do so, in which case it wouldn’t even require he assign any men to it. Another Brotherhood squad was waiting for them, this one consisting of both knights and scribes. Alan exited the vehicle and was met by the squad commander. He asked, “Did the scribes prepare everything?” “Yes sir,” the commander said. “We made an announcement as soon as we arrived that you would be making a speech. And they went over the equipment to ensure there are no problems.” “Good. Thank you to you and your men.” The broadcasting room was prepared, and the DJ presumably gone to his office. After running through the system with the scribes, Alan sat down and gave the read signal. An engineer that worked at the place counted down and then Alan was live to every radio in Wellstone. “Citizens of Wellstone. I am Paladin Lord Alan Ogawa, commander of the Brotherhood army that arrived today in Wellstone. It is my duty to inform you that from this moment on the Brotherhood of Steel is instituting martial law in this city. There is a rot here that must be removed for the safety and betterment of mankind. Rebel factions have infiltrated and permeated throughout Wellstone. By undermining the Brotherhood, which keeps you and all of its other citizens safe, they are a threat to the continued existence of humanity itself. We cannot suffer these rebels to linger any longer. “And so the Brotherhood has come to enforce order, safety, and security. From this moment on, there will be a strict midnight to five a.m. curfew. Anyone caught out past that time will be arrested and tried. The checkpoints at all major city entrances will be manned by Brotherhood soldiers, with random inspections done at the discretion of Brotherhood knights. Anyone thought to have a connection with the rebels will be arrested and interrogated. Anyone caught assisting the rebels will be sent to Paradise, for those that assist the rebels are rebels, in the eyes of the Brotherhood. “Until such time as the rebels are rooted out, the Brotherhood will be in full command of Wellstone. The city council members and the mayor have stepped aside to allow us to secure Wellstone’s future. Mayor Prassel will serve as a liaison, so all business the city council addressed he will now receive and pass on to the Brotherhood. “The Brotherhood demands full cooperation from its citizens. I urge you to watch closely and listen well for any rebel activity. The safety of this city, the safety of the Brotherhood, and the safety of mankind depends on the discovery and elimination of all rebel cells. These measures, and any measures we deem necessary, will be instituted until such time as the rebels are destroyed. “Do not be afraid. The Brotherhood of Steel is here to help, and we will not rest until all true citizens of Wellstone are safe to live in peace. We are the technological saviors of mankind, and we will save this city.
  17. 3 points
  18. 3 points
    Hey Celan! Good to have you around, even if it is just lurking. Hope all is well. I've got to answer a couple pms and check over my final post. But after that I'll be ready too
  19. 3 points
    I've written one ghoul character for an opening post, but that's the only one I know of currently. Though we're only just about to begin, and a big part of the RP's conflict is about the Brotherhood's stance on mutants, so there is a lot of room for more ghouls. In fact, St. Louis (now called Gateway City) has become something of a refuge for them and super mutants. This shouldn't be too much of a crutch since we're sticking to a mostly untouched region and are making up a lot of our own lore. Fallouts 2, 3, and 4 probably won't be relevant at all. 1 and New Vegas will be slightly, and most of what you'd need to know from Tactics is in that video I linked. Even if it's just as side characters here and there, we'd love to have you participate!
  20. 3 points
    2284, so just a couple years after New Vegas ends and three before 4 begins. It's an alternate timeline though, where this ending to Fallout Tactics (in 2198) led to a very interesting political situation in the Midwest with a new Brotherhood of Steel. The East Coast factions won't really be relevant, but Caesar's Legion will eventually be brought in.
  21. 3 points
    Tech Scribe Madame Blacksmith Thief
  22. 3 points
    Great post, y'all. I just finished. Some bullet points down below.
  23. 3 points
    I saw that on his Tumblr, We know your true identity CenturioYankarius
  24. 3 points
    ****** she just moved here dont get too excited Plus, it has North in it. Ew
  25. 3 points
    This should really be a disclaimer for anyone who decides to have a stoner for a friend, or worse, two of them for roommates.
  26. 3 points
    Thanks. It's more or less confirmed as a terror attack by now. Luckily I was nowhere near the place. If you can find a way to translate it here's more info: http://www.aftonbladet.se/nyheter/a/M04XE/attentat-pa-drottninggatan-i-stockholm-flera-doda-och-stort-antal-s
  27. 3 points
    Glad you're back and safe now.
  28. 3 points
    I'm unsure about ammo. I'm leaning towards you being able to keep it as it would be a good thing to barter with. Though I'm going to let Doc answer that one. As for currency, I'm glad you asked because we just finalized it:
  29. 3 points
    Don't ever change, Balrog.
  30. 3 points
    Ah such a shame I cant have my characters read Yuri. Knowing the Fallout states, they probably classified it as Chinese propaganda.
  31. 3 points
    Already approved by Dcotor, but might as well post it here.
  32. 3 points
    I'll start us off with my own CS. The Renegade
  33. 3 points
    This isn't any of those things, but it is news nonetheless. I emailed Celan with an invitation, and sent Yes Man and Warp some on the old BGS site as well. I hope we hear back soon!
  34. 3 points
  35. 3 points
    Got sent home early since the place wasn't very busy, Sucks being new.
  36. 3 points
    New pc coming tomorrow, it cost me my soul, plus 1,400 dollars but it was worth it. It's ******* sweeeeet. I also might be free both days this weekend, and will start catching up on reading if so. I'll put our posts together and post Wednesday too unless y'all wanna do that for me, just in case a tornado hits the delivery truck or some shit considering last weeks track record... Anyway, I'm almost back. Thanks for the patience.
  37. 3 points
    Just so y'all know, my computer got fried and I gotta get a new one but in the meantime I'll get a laptop Sunday so I can post two posts we've finished.
  38. 2 points
    This is all extremely helpful! Thanks a ton. I never know what to do with my SPECIAL points and usually feel like I don't distribute them well. So I'm definitely going to follow this.
  39. 2 points
    I almost said him, but didn't because he's not technically an NPC. I agree though, the Survivalist is easily one of the best characters in the franchise. His logs were my favorite thing about Honest Hearts, which is saying a lot because that was a great DLC. Elijah is ******* awesome as well. Good picks. Erandur is great. One of the only companions Bethesda actually put some effort into fleshing out and damn if they didn't do a good job of it. And Serana is basically the main character of Dawnguard, which for its faults, has a story that I'm a big fan of.
  40. 2 points
    That makes sense. I guess I hadn't ever really considered that those jobs might be separate from the infantry. Glad you got what you wanted!
  41. 2 points
    Watch the sass. I'm saying its highly improbable for a fourteen (aka early teenager) year old boy to kill what amounts to a giant, muscle bound apex predator of the wastleland with a sharpened piece of stell. Doc agree's with me Its like the Lone Wanderer going against a deathclaw with a combat knife at level one. You won't be able to do it. In-game, or in the lore
  42. 2 points
    Its depressing what they're doing with the license. Micro transactions up the fecal factory, shallow ass unbalanced gameplay and a stupid ass picture room thing with like, seven models.
  43. 2 points
    Computer problems are the worst. I had a scare where I lost a considerable amount of stuff at the end of last semester. Right before an essay was due too. Thankfully I still had the warranty and didn't have to pay, but everything that wasn't backed up got lost. Now I have cloud storage and back everything up to thumb drives. I'm glad your problems sorted themselves out and you didn't lose anything. And that things look smooth in the future.
  44. 2 points
  45. 2 points
    I'm not going to be writing today, I'll lose my mind if I write a text wall or two only to have the power cut out on me.
  46. 2 points
    They're not being posted, but some of us have already worked on our opening posts so they'll be ready when it begins.
  47. 2 points
    Don't you worry, Grandpa Ernie will show all the youngins how to explooooooore!
  48. 2 points
    Me too man, me too. It's kinda nerve-racking considering I've never really RP'ed before, but I've learned quite a bit from reading the tes rp and just writing and revising the lay out for how I want my story to progress, though admittedly it's very barebones at the moment and I've been neglecting it for awhile now.
  49. 2 points
    Come on. Give me characters, ideas, plots, speculation, interesting questions!
  50. 2 points
    I think there's some confusion between you two. Doc thought you were talking about traveling from Roscrea to the eastern land of Akavir, while you actually meant how long it would take to travel from the western point of Roscrea to the eastern point. So that's the reason for the discrepancy in your respective answers.