Fallout: New Vegas

[idalie]

Tallulah Clemente
(Ava Devereaux)
​

Nodding her head attentively, Ava made a mental note of keeping clear. It wouldn't do her any good to make enemies or be seen in the company of which was opposed by the Chairmen. But a walkabout couldn't hurt, stretch her legs before the performance that afternoon. See whether there were any interesting characters to be had or information she could gather for the most part. Finishing off her drink, deftly catching a drop of cola which lingered on her lips with a swipe of the tongue, she blew a kiss to the bartender. "I better see you there then, hun. But I'll be sure to stay away from those places you're so worried about." Grasping her purse underarm, she slid off the barstool with a click of her heels hitting the tiled floor. Giving another wave over her shoulder, Devereaux descended the stairs. Only when reaching the bottom, cracking open a slightly rusted compact mirror checking the deep red of her lipstick before tucking it away, did the young woman glance back and forth; pushing through the door of the Tops and exiting out onto the strip.

The heat hit her first, Ava fixing her hair with a bounce whilst she wandered through the streets, standing at the base of Lucky 38 in admiration, pausing halfway to sit down for a smoke. Lounging on a bench, her hands fumbled for a cigarette momentarily till she grasped her lighter, taking a swift hit of the tobacco. Ava sat there for some time contemplating her work, reciting the act in her head and feeling vaguely nauseous at the thought of getting caught as an NCR correspondent. She certainly didn't want to ask what they did to people like that, after all, with the rumours of people getting buried in shallow graves -- well, Ava was looking for a more glamorous way out. Getting caught in a lovers dispute, choking on a diamond ring, and definitely not being run over by a herd of bighorns or brahmin.

Weather in New Vegas didn't change much, it was either this hot, dry heat or rain for two days straight, before being terribly humid which made one look frazzled half the time. Raising her gaze, the sky was a pure baby blue overhead, one of her favourite colours. The soft pastel, interrupted by wisps of clouds giving false promise of respite to the Mojave's oppressive burn. Clearing her throat, the dancer stood, flicking the cig-butt on the pavement to crush it beneath the sole of her shoe. Back she sauntered, hours after, giving her usual play to the doorman and chatting excitedly to him although it probably fell on deaf ears; her southern drawl explaining every little thing from the way she loved pre-war hemlines and to the odd things she'd heard in passing. The Tops were beginning to seem the safest out of most the factions though, bringing a great amount of relief to know she hadn't been put up in Gomorrah. Rumours which came from there were hardly ones she wanted to know about and far too intense considering some of the clientele.

Dropping her purse back in her room, Ava tugged back her shoulders and cleared her throat. It wasn't long, an hour or half till the show and Tallulah's time to shine. Ducking backstage at the Aces, she found her costume easy enough tagged and kept wrapped in a protective cover. Unzipping it, the scanty uniform of her new service gave a rather seductive shimmer. In reality, it was lingerie with additions to make it more of a show-stopper, yet the work which had gone into the neat, practically invisible hand stitching was evident. It looked like something out of a pre-war magazine (which she had to be honest, it very much was). Garter belt and soft, fine stockings enveloped both legs with a skirt of sheer white chiffon, open at the front whilst a decorative brassiere accentuated her already gracious bust. Last addition was a plain, black ribbon tied into a choker about her slender neck. Sitting down in front of a makeshift mirror, makeup was reapplied yet to accentuate a more theatrical appearance. Lightly powdering her nose, using bold eyes and lips, till poking her head out with a pretty little frown, "TORINI!!" She carried both heels in one hand, eyes darting to and fro. "You do have the band ready, don't you? I'm doing Peggy, and I swear if you don't get it on cue it won't only be me singin' about men not doin' right, it'll be you actin' the part too. We got time for a rehearsal?"

 

[Iskandar]

"Ah apologies. I was distracted." LeRae offered to the man he bumped into, bowing slightly. He straightened and looked up at the man who LeRae had yet to meet. LeRae had seen him around Westside a bit, but never spoke to him. He was a new arrival to Westside much like LeRae. The man wore a Followers Labcoat which gave away his allegiances or at the very least his ideals and morals. Underneath his fedora was curly black hair that went well with his Olive Skin. The man was slightly taller than LeRae and much younger.

"You are also new in town, no? LeRae. The one that owns the Caravan that just moved into town." LeRae extended his right arm and offered out his hand to shake the others, "Seeing as how this is Westside and Anderson is in charge here, I take it you aren't with the Followers?" LeRae looked at the man's Labcoat once more and then back at his face. He offered a small smile to the man.

E E-Ruler39

 

[E-Ruler39]

"Apology accepted" James said to the strange man "I'm James, nice to meet you." He said as he extended his hand to shake the other mans. James looked the other man up and down thinking how odd it was to meet a man walking around in a kimono, in the Mojave, after the apocalypse. "Yes I am new in town, and yes I am no longer with the Followers. The leadership and I didn't always see eye to eye. So decided to leave the followers to start my own organization. Wondered if maybe Anderson would be interested in being apart of something big again. So what exactly is up with the kimono and the katanas? Also where did you find them?" He asked.

Iskandar

 

[Iskandar]

"Again, a pleasure, James." LeRae was happy that the man seemed so polite. Some people in the wasteland don't have manners, like some will tell you to 'Get Fucked' for no reason, but that was just how the wasteland worked, "I won't for specifics as to why you left the Followers. Not my place. At least you found a place here in Westside... As for people to join your Organization. That might be a bit tougher. I do wish you luck on your endeavor though." LeRae paused and mulled over the possibility of Anderson supporting this man. LeRae had only interacted with the former Follower a handful of times, so he couldn't really gauge the possibility of Anderson joining James, "You never know. I can't really offer much advice on getting Anderson to help. I am sure you can convince him."

LeRae looked down at his outfit and weapons and smiled, "Family Heirloom. My Family was from a Vault, well before I was born. I was born in the Wasteland, but this is something my family has had since before the Nukes." LeRae paused, "It is rather comfortable. And same goes for my weapons. Well, my smaller sword, the Wakizashi, I found quite some years back. Can't really remember where though. I think I bought it somewhere. As for my guns, I've had these since I was a lad. They haven't let me down yet."

LeRae put his hands behind his back and looked at James, "So... Tell me about this Organization that you are looking to start up..."

E E-Ruler39

 

[E-Ruler39]

"My Organization..." James smiles. "Well there will be three divisions, one for science, one for military, and one for politics. I felt that for the Followers to be successful in making the wasteland a better place they would need a fighting force, and a larger political influence. The Followers are way to focused on science. I believe that science is an essential piece to making the wasteland a better place. However the followers act as if it is the only piece of the puzzle." He pauses "Sorry that is probably more than you wanted." He says looking down at the ground for a few seconds "I don't really know what else to tell you. Pretty much everything else is boring things that you probably don't want to hear about such as how leaders will be chosen and things like that." He looks at you and asks "Was there anything else you would like to know?"

Iskandar

 

[Pat]

Keidivh .​

The geckos were dispatched with frightening efficiency, and all that remained of the mutated critters were ash piles. Swearing you heard a gunshot, the tell-tale bark of a revolver during the brief slaughter of the hideous creatures with your laser rifle, you looked around yourself to locate the shooter before being hugged by the settler you saved. "Thanks for saving me Miss, much longer and I would've been a goner, she spoke, smiling. Here," she disengaged, handing you two bottles of purified water, "you look almighty thirsty. It's the least I can do." Collecting herself, the woman set off for Goodsprings, passing by a running Sunny Smiles who approached you to offer her thoughts. "That was a good day's work. Even got a little exciting there at the end," she paused to hand you a bag of about fifty caps. "You can help me skin the geckos and continue your survival lessons, or head on back to the town and meet Trudy. She would be cross if I didn't point you in her direction. She's sorta the town mom." She grinned good-naturedly.

Shireling .​

Elder McNamara lowered his hands from his face. The bags under his eyes spoke volumes of the weight he carried, confirmation of what the Head Knight had mistakenly revealed to you. "Yes Huxley?" His smooth voice betraying nothing of his thoughts or emotions, as always of late since the Battle of Helios One.

idalie .
​

"I think I finally came up with your stage name, how does 'Moxie' sound?" Tommy Torini's lips curled to match the smile in his eye. "You heard the lady fellas, she wants a rehearsal", he barked at the rest of the Rad Pack, "let's see what you can do to an audience," he laughed, taking a seat at one of the empty tables and making idle conversation with the Aces Theater bartender until you started the show.

Zaltusinel .
​

There was nobody in this section of the hotel, you suddenly realized. It was the quietest you've ever heard the Ultra-Luxe in all your years of running it. A realization you sadly came upon too late. Something strikes across your back, making you recoil in pain. Staggering, you turn to see that your assailant is a female White Glove wielding a cane as it reaches your ears of another struggle ensuing downstairs, coming from the direction you last seen Folksworn.

 

[Pat]

Sarah Bear .
​

Major Dhatri accepted the Fiend head as casually as you would greet an old friend. Thankfully today he was all-business and apparently didn't have it in him to crack a witty one liner, or god forbid, actually talk to the recently decapitated. Your pockets two hundred caps heavier, you could stick around the base looking for more work, investigate the Concourse, see if Contreras has anything good for sale, or head out into the wastes.

 

[Sarah Bear]

Catori gleefully accepted the caps and went on her way, deciding to simply head out into the wastes, she had what she needed to get to West side, where there should be plenty of work for her as a guard or gun. Preferably, she'd be hunting legion right now, but unfortunately she was too far into NCR territory for that, here they were letting much smaller problems kill them off or sap their strength. Things like McCarran are why she didn't join in the first place, having this many soldiers and they can't kill off a bunch of junkies? Unacceptable, while camp Forlorn Hope is under constant threat because of a lack of men, ammo, and morale, and they were in the middle of the shit-fest. Sure, that was all rumor, but the name Forlorn Hope tells Catori that rumor can be trusted in this case. No, it's easier to kill the legion when you aren't held down by so many "orders" and "rules" meant to protect people, but mostly that stuff just gets in the way. Maybe she'd take the long trip to the hopeless camp sometime, see if she could tilt the odds a bit more to their favor, at least for a bit.

 

[Shireling]

Paladin Huxley
​

"Elder," Huxley said with true reverence. He really did respect McNamara as a leader in most respects. He closed the door to the Elder's office and continued, "I didn't come to harass you, Nolan, I came to talk. I found out, about the patrols that you sent out to find parts for the air filtration system." He raised a calming hand in anticipation of a defensive counter, "None of the people here know that this is a violation of the Chains that Bind, only me, and it will stay that way. If the other Elders were to catch wind, you might be removed and Hardin installed in your place. That worries me."

Huxley ran both hands through his hair and crossed his arms. "If you give me permission, I will go out and find the lost patrols, bring back their holotags and the components we need. You'll have to go over Hardin's head, of course, but you've already done that." He uncrossed his arms and stood at attention awaiting the Elder's response.

Pat

 

[idalie]

Tallulah Clemente
(Ava Devereaux)
​

"Sweetheart you can call me any name you desire," The showgirl cooed in a deep Southern drawl, dragging out the syllables like unravelling silk. "Moxie might give me a little bit of pizzazz," She added before winking and vanishing behind the curtains again. Ava secured a corset beneath her brassiere, clasping it and pulling on a short, sequined shoulder-jacket. Slipping her petite, pointed feet into the heels, Tallulah held her breath and waited for the musical cue on the wings of the stage; lights dimming slightly. Shoes clicked across as she took her position, shimmering ethereally with a soft halo about her head with the glow of the sign behind her.

"You had plenty money, 1922 --" Her voice rose in a firm, yet breathy moan of the lyrics leaning forward into the microphone, one hand gently curled about the stand. "-- You let other women make a fool of you --" Drawing her lips into a neat pout as the tune carried. The song was done slow and husky, unlike how Peggy Lee sang on the radio with that fire behind it, as if you could feel her accusing through the crackle of pre-war audio. This was to utterly seduce, ending on a note that could chill you to the core; dripping like ichor upon its listeners.

The lights entirely cut out after the duration of the first act whilst she turned around and a chair was lifted to the stage. Ducking to lift the curtain and slide a fedora beneath it; placing jauntily on her head. Sitting with her legs crossed, skirt cascading over her legs in a sheer glimmer, the band would change tune. This being slightly more upbeat yet still retaining a slow tempo, as Devereaux parted her legs and planted them on the floor steadily before pushing off of it with a suggestive gait, curving her back and emphasising her figure with a stalking saunter; stopping midway to playfully kick the skirt upwards and draw fingertips from ankle to thigh, teasing the top of the stockings held in place by a clasped garter belt.

She continued tipping her head back and holding the hat to it as she took one step at a time, tugging on the buttons of her jacket till it popped open and discarded itself. Further still, she removed the fedora from her head and dropped it lightly on one of the band members, twirling back to the centre as Tallulah put her heeled foot now on the chair to give the chiffon skirt a wiggle and a wink. Bit by bit unclasping itself and swung away winking out to Torini before sliding palms down the form-fitting corset and reaching behind to tug at the strings as she paced to and fro. Falling this time unhindered as she kicked the heels off with a little Betty Boop flick of the foot.

Ten minutes of uninterrupted burlesque, keeping people on their toes till she stood only in brassiere and underwear, with not even a garter. She finally allowed her form to drop, sitting heavily in the chair and trying to fix her hair. "Right, gents, that's the act. You got anything I should do? Anything I'm missing? A little more --" Ava waved her hands about and huffed. "Anyone got a cig by the way? I got two more hours of this when I start for real."

 

[Keidivh]

Courier Six

Six regarded the scene before her with a small bit of pride, the ash of dead Geckos being blown about on the hot Mojave breeze. The feeling of a laser rifle in her hand felt far more natural than her newly acquired varmint rifle. She had barely missed a shot, most of them being right on the money. Still, as good as she did, she had the strange feeling that she hadn't achieved this by herself. During the brief fight she could have sworn she heard a firearm being discharged, and it didn't seem like Sunny hadn't even gotten off a shot during the engagement. Her crimson eyes began to survey the area, but with the multiple hills and outcroppings that littered the area it would be next to impossible to find this mysterious helper. If they even existed in the first place that is. Before she could give any further thought to the strange circumstance, she suddenly found herself wrapped in the embrace of the settler she had just saved. Her breathing was haggard, her wounds staining Six's duster with blood, but she seemed okay enough to walk which was a good sign. She returned the hug, careful not to cause her any further pain. "Hey there's no need for thanks, we all need to look out for each other out here ya know?"

Before she could deny repayment, the woman shoved a couple of water bottles into Six's hands and began heading back towards town. Hopefully off to see Doc Mitchell. Now that she thought about it, she was parched. She hadn't realized until now how dry her throat was, the beating heat of the sun feeling harsher by the second. Putting the water bottles into her backpack, Six grabbed a dented canteen, dipping it into the fresh water of the springs before taking a large swig, the cool water soothing her cracked lips. She then poured some over her face, relishing in its cool touch.

As she relaxed and re-hydrated she heard Sunny approach her, tossing a pouch of Caps into her lap while she sat on the edge of the springs. The hunter seemed quite pleased with the days turn of events, inviting her to train even further. Hopefully that meant she had made a good impression! "Psh, you're just looking for an excuse to hang out with me longer. I can't blame ya, I'm pretty charming." This earned her little more than a cocked eyebrow from Sunny, though Six swore she could see the hints of a smile on her lips.

"I'm just gonna take as a yes. Now c'mon, the sooner we get this done the sooner we get back to the saloon. I don't know about you, but I could use an ice cold Sarsaparilla right about now." At the mention of Sarsaparilla, Six practically leaped back into action. The trio was able to skin all of the Geckos relatively quickly, Six able to pick up the skill fairly easily, as if she had done it all her life. For all she knew she had. Eventually Sunny led them over to a small clearing where she showed her the basics of setting up a camp fire. "You've kept up pretty well for a gal freshly risen from the grave, up for one more errand?" Sunny asked as she placed some Gecko meat over the fire, Cheyenne eagerly pacing around her master hoping for scraps. Six tossed her a small slab of meat before nodding to Sunny.

"That's what I like to hear. All's you need is some Broc Flower and Xander Root. The Xander Root will be near the schoolhouse, just on the outskirts of town. The Broc Flower will be near the... Er, the cemetery. Suppose you might not be to eager to go back there after the whole 'shot in the head' incident." In truth, Six wouldn't mind if she never went back up to that hillside cemetery, but she needed to confront what happened there at some point. Might as well be now.

"Don't worry about it Sunny, I'll be back before you can say Cazadore Nest." With that, Six began her journey for the supplies Sunny requested. With the path back to town cleared it didn't take long for her to get back to town and find the schoolhouse. As she neared the school, she noticed some rustling in the dead foliage surrounding the school. Pulling out her varmint rifle, she cautiously approached the building until she saw what was causing the movement. Mantises. Rather, giant mantises. Geez, is there anything not giant around here?

Taking aim, she began unloading her rifle at the insects, and discovered they were incredibly hard to land a hit on! Apparently being slender, small and quick made it difficult to hit. Still, she was able to clear the outside of the school without much difficulty, only a couple of the bugs being around. Grabbing three Xander Roots, she was about to leave for the cemetery when she glanced back at the school. "Hmm, looks like its been abandoned for awhile.. Could be there's something valuable in there."

Reloading her rifle, Six made her way to the side door, slowly opening it as she creeped inside. Each foot step kicked up what seemed to be a decades worth of dust, floating quite visibly in the air as it was hit by thin rays of sun that sneaked through the boarded windows. Peaking around the corner, she saw she wasn't the only one in the dilapidated building, at least three other mantises wandering the main room. Waiting for her moment, Six took a shot at the nearest bug, the creature more or less exploding from the round. Almost instantaneously the other bugs were upon her. She unloaded the rest of her clip, only managing to take down one of the pair. Before she could reload the other one was upon her, its razor sharp talons striking out at her viciously. It managed to cut through the vault suit she was wearing pretty easily, leaving a few nasty cuts. "Gah, son of a bitch!" The courier yelped before repeatedly smashing the critter with the butt of her gun, its fragile form collapsing from the blunt force.

Quickly reloading, she brought up her gun, waiting for more to attack her, but there was nothing in the room with her now but dusty air. Taking a few minutes, she looked around the room for anything worth taking, eventually making her way to the back counter. "Oooh, now what do we have here?" She asked to no one as noticed what looked to be a computer terminal. Dusting off the thick layers of dust before pressing the power button. Truthfully she wasn't expecting anything to happen, and her mouth hung agape when it actually turned on, the greenish screen opening to a security page, with a myriad of codes, symbols and letters. All of which kind of made sense to her somehow. Reaching down to the keyboard, she began searching through the code, finding a few keywords that could act as a password. Eventually she managed to narrow it down to a couple of options.

"And the password is... Apple? Hmm, well I suppose a schoolhouse doesn't need top notch security." There wasn't much she could do with the computer, save one thing. Open a lock? What was locked? Only one way to find out. Pressing enter, she heard a mechanism release, and looked over to the floor on her right. A safe! Dropping her rifle, she hastily opened it up, eager to see what treasures she could find. A few bottlecaps, not bad. Cherry bombs? Eh, don't really need that... What in the hell. Reaching into the safe, Six pulled out a strange, boxy device. Turning it over a couple times, she was able to find a name. Stealth Boy.

"No way..." How a Stealth Boy had wound up in a bloody schoolhouse was beyond her, so instead of thinking to hard on it Six simply muttered a prayer of thanks and continued on her way, wincing slightly at he stinging pain on her right leg.

Soon she was in the graveyard, where a bark scorpion and a couple bloatlfies tried to get in her way, but offered little resistance. After gathering some Broc Flower, there was only one thing left to do. Wringing her hands for a minute, she took a shaky breath before moving towards a recently dug up grave overlooking the road north. In the distance she could barely make out some of the taller buildings of New Vegas. Even in the day there seemed to be a faint glow coming off the city. Walking up to the grave, she staring at it blankly for some time taking in all of the details. The dried blood that spattered the area, a shovel that was wantonly tossed aside. Two empty pistol rounds that made Six's head throb, and... Cigarette butts? The brief memory of a cigarette hanging in the checkered mans mouth flashed in her mind. Reaching down, she picked up on of the butts glancing over it. "Mojave Marlboro..." It wasn't much to go off of, but it was something. Shoving it in her dusters pocket, she decided to head back towards Sunny.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Well, didn't you take your sweet time getting back. Stop to smell the irradiated flowers along the way?" Sunny stated with a smirk, clearly not bothered by having been kept to wait, Cheyenne laying at her feet.

"Sorry, made a couple of stops along the way, but I have what we need." The courier stated as she held up both ingredients in each hand. Nodding, Sunny took the plants and began tossed them into a boiling pot. Waiting for about three minutes, she carefully scooped up plants leaving them to dry on a couple of sun baked rocks. This took a bit longer, but once they were sufficiently dried ground them up together and placed them in three bags before passing it to Six. The fiery haired girl looked up at her auburn haired friend with no small amount of confusion before Sunny spoke up.

"Trying rubbing that powder on the cuts you got there." Sunny stated simply before going to put out the fire. Shrugging to herself, Six poured out a single bag of the powder into her hand before rubbing it into her wounds. She had to bite down on her lip to hold back a yelp. It stung like a bitch, but after that the cuts felt far better. "Huh, that feels... Great!"

"Healing powder. Not anywhere as good as a Stimpak, but it'll do in a pinch. Hope it was worth the wait." Giving a bright smile, Six gave a nod. Anything that would help her stay alive was a blessing.

"Thanks Sunny, your the best."

"No need to state the obvious. C'mon, lets head back to the Saloon. Trudy's probably got her knickers in a bunch, I don't usually take this long to do my rounds." With that said, the grop began making their way back to town. Upon entering the saloon, Six was glad to have the beating sun off her skin. Instead of the quiet she heard before, she actually heard some folks talking... Wait, not talking. More like yelling. The hell is going on?

Moving her hand to her Glock, Six went into the main bar area to see what was going down.

Pat​

 

[Pat]

Sarah Bear .​

The moment the gate shut behind you the stamp-like reports of the New California Republic Army's famed service rifle began to reach your ears from all sides. Fiends, junkies they may be, have relentlessly assaulted Camp McCarran ever since the Desert Rangers turned it over to the Bear following the Ranger Unification Treaty. A patrol of three troopers rushed past you, disappearing down a side street on their way to what sounded the closest of the many heated skirmishes now enveloping the fortified airport. Soon, the broken rhythm of desperate Core Region conscripts armed with semi-automatics they only had two weeks to learn how to use before being shipped off to the Mojave Campaign was joined by the haunting howling that is the Fiend war cry. This wasn't your fight. Not anymore. If you edged along the wall of the Strip, chances were you wouldn't see a one of the raiders all the way to Westside...

Shireling .​

He relented, but only when you left the chambers of Elder McNamara did the weight of the task before you set in. Three patrols, sent to REPCONN Headquarters, Nellis Air Force Base, and Black Mountain, respectively, must have their holotags and mission holotapes retrieved. Miscalculations of the threats of those sectors cost the lives of brothers and sisters before you. His briefing informed you of seemingly harmless autonomous security bots, territorial tribals packing almost as much firepower as a Paladin, and what was last known as a peaceful supermutant community, that all likely caused terrible losses for your chapter. If you happened to survive, on you would go to the positions of three scouts overlooking NCRCF, Nipton, and Camp Forlorn Hope, and receive their reports. Finally, you would delve into the rusting depths of Vault 22, Vault 3, and Vault 11 to scavenge the components needed to repair the air filtration system of Hidden Valley. Six HEPA 20 cartridge filters, a reverse pulse cleaner, and a differential pressure controller, respectively. An almost impossible feat for one man to achieve on a strict time limit. Should you live to tell the tale, your place in the Codex would be assured.

idalie .​

"Tallulah, that performance was aces," Torini beamed, he along with the rest of the entertainers maintaining a professional cool. If you had to make a guess though, it looked almost as if he was more so excited at the prospect of you being a hit with the crowds than of your assets currently on display. The bartender of the Aces Theater, another, yet older pasty skinned vault dweller, if he was any indication of the patrons to come, appeared to enjoy the show at least. Perhaps a little too much, you noted, discretely eyeing a tent in the man's pants. The band member you placed the hat on returned the fedora to your possession, let you take a cigarette from a pack, and politely held out the flame of the lighter for your use before taking five. As he drew close for those few moments, you noticed angry scars peaking over his collars and down his cuffs, and, strangely, blemishes where tattoos once rested. Glancing at the clock, you ascertained it would only be a matter of minutes before opening time.

Keidivh .​

"If you don't give up Ringo soon, me and my friends are going to burn this town to the ground," fuming, an african american man clad in an armored vest emblazoned on the back with NCRCF in thick white lettering shoved past you out the door. Trudy, you presumed, watched him leave before turning a friendly welcoming gaze to you. "You must be that Courier that Victor dug up and Doc Mitchell was talking about. Don't mind the convict there, sit down," she motioned, walking on back behind the bar. "His anger is just a testament to Goodsprings hospitality."

 

[Shireling]

Paladin Huxley

George Huxley sat on his bunk just a few minutes before he was to go on his mission for the Elder. He had been ordered via Hardin out on a scouting expedition, thus the true nature of his mission was clandestine. He held the helmet of his T-51b suit in his hands, the polished steel hefty and impressive, and moved his thumb over the filter clearing away some of the dust of the early morning patrol. Then, rising from his bunk, he fitted the rest of his field rations into the compartment in his suit and then he himself clambered into the hulking armored suit like a knight-errant mounting a horse. With a satisfying clank, the suit sealed him in. He fitted the helmet over his head and twisted to the right as the pressure seal made a popping noise. He took up his rifle and spare fusion cells, and made his way to the exit.

The Mojave sun, even through the tint of his visor, was brighter than he remembered. He hadn't seen broad daylight in God-knows-how-long, and he was suddenly left feeling vulnerable even in this great expanse. He set out first for the REPCONN test site.

Pat

​

 

[Pat]

Shireling .​

Scorpion Gulch was the first destination many of your brothers and sisters set out for once safely outside of the direct vicinity of Hidden Valley. At Elder McNamara's behest, every precaution was taken to ensure that those few exempted from the chapter lockdown couldn't be traced back home. Bark scorpion after bark scorpion was crushed underfoot or dispatched with your laser rifle as you tread through the distantly familiar terrain. The rest scattered back into their nests or parted from your warpath, their few attempts to penetrate your suit of power armor with their stingers seemingly hurting them more than you. In a few short minutes of traveling, the path widened until you stepped into a clearing. A pile of haphazardly stacked boulders loomed over you in the middle of the open ground, something nestled atop the formation catching the light of the sun. You could press onwards, or climb to see what the object is. Only problem was, giant radscorpions tended to introduce themselves to paladins who lingered in this place, if your memory served you correctly.

 

[Keidivh]

Courier Six

Six glared at the man who had so rudely shoved his way past her, thinking of making some kind of snide comment towards him before deciding to keep her mouth shut. The man seemed volatile, and the last thing she wanted was to start a fight when there townsfolk nearby. Her attention instead was given fully to the much friendlier face of the saloon owner, Trudy. Six offered a bright smile of her own. "Indeed I am, seems my reputation for being brought back form the dead precedes me. Names Six." Taking her hand off of her Glock, the red haired courier moved over to the bar, her muscles rejoicing as she sat down. It only dawned on her now how much she had pushed her body today, likely not something the doctor would have recommended.

"Hang on a second, did you say convict?" Damnit, maybe I should have done something about him. It surprised her to hear that a convict was wandering about the town which by all means was just a quiet humdrum place. "Why in the Lord's name is scum like that giving you folk trouble? That ain't right in the least bit!" Six placed a few bottlecaps on the counter and asked for a sarsaparilla while she waited for Trudy to explain. As she did she realized how quiet the place was and looked over to the radio. Grabbing it, she tried to fiddle with it a bit in hopes it would turn on.​

 

[Shireling]

Paladin Huxley

Intrigued by the glint of something perhaps metallic on top of the boulders, Huxley couldn't resist the urge to divert just a bit of time to investigate. After all, it could be something really valuable. The pack rat tendencies of the Brotherhood, no doubt instilled in him at an early age, still guided his knee-jerk reactions sometimes. Placing his rifle on his back, he used his gauntleted hands to scale the rock formation.

Pat

 

[Sarah Bear]

Catori couldn't sit by and let these boys die all alone. though the fight had taken many directions, she followed the three soldiers, who were now confused as to what was going on. "I'm on your three." Was her only explanation before they were ambushed. She fired the brush gun into the chests of two fiends on her right, only to discover that three more had killed one of the soldiers in the street-and-alley war that had broken out. The two remaining soldiers held their own and killed the other three, but the fiends just kept coming. Eventually, Catori found a building easy enough to crawl into, and began giving sniper support from a high up window, already broken out of course. Before long the other two soldiers were dead, but the fiend's advance was, albeit temporarily, halted. Hours passed, or were they minutes? One could never really tell in a firefight. Your life was on the line, so all of it's time felt the same way. Right there, in that one moment... Eventually the fiends backed off of that particular street, in favor of flanking around the building. Good, to. Catori only had six bullets remaining. Alright, so fiends are definitely more numorous than previously expected. Hopefully they all O.Dd before another attack could be placed. Catori waited for the fight to die down, and took the tags off of the soldiers she had fought beside, giving them to the nearest trooper, and afterwards, claimed one of the service rifles and all of 20 bullets left over from the NCR corpses. Not the first she'd seen but, this did have a barely familiar feel to it. An especially bitter taste in her mouth. The death of an ally. 3 to be exact. Not many things could make you on of Catori's friends so quickly as fighting by her side. "Onward to freeside." She solemnly said as she walked the rest of the way, corpses littering the streets near McCarran.

 

[Pat]

Keidivh .​

"Name's Trudy, if you haven't already heard," Trudy drawled, "been like this for a month or so now, ever since the N.C.R.C.F., the New California Republic Correctional Facility, had a jail break. Could hear the explosions all the way from out here. After the smoke cleared, inmates took to calling themselves Powder Gangers. Better manners than raiders, but that isn't saying much. Until now they stuck to holding up caravans, killing the guards and merchants only if they resisted." Trudy paused as Sunny Smiles appeared over your shoulder, handing you a Fixin' Things magazine after she observed you having trouble fiddling with the broken radio. Sweeping down the counter, she passed you a surprisingly new and fresh bottle of sarsaparilla after depositing your caps in a register before continuing the conversation. "Taken to keeping a pistol at the bar after Ringo came to town," she gestured to a revolver holstered in a glass amongst the bottles of liquor behind her. "Joe Cobb and his crew want revenge after the man managed to get a few good shots off and escape their ambush." She explained, "way I've heard it, he was the sole survivor," she shook her head. "The one woman they had with them he says was raped before being killed. I'm surprised, actually, never thought the Crimson Caravan Company could get jumped. I suppose the branch over in New Vegas isn't up to standards." Upon finally repairing the radio and turning it on to the smooth voice of Mr. New Vegas, her eyes widened in appreciation of your work and she quieted as a news story came on. "A package courier found shot in the head near Goodsprings has reportedly regained consciousness, and has made a full recovery. Now that is a delivery service you can count on." Trudy noticably bit her bottom lip at the words of the charismatic radio station host, digging fifty caps out of the register to pay you for your hard work, handing them to you with a troubled smile. "Gotta wonder how word like that travels faster than courier and caravan around here," she remarked. "Especially since all the roads to the city are blocked nowadays."

Shireling .​

Of all things to find, it was a laser pistol, and not just that, but one from the Mojave Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel's own armory, the exact serial number as the one reported missing recently. You ponder how it could've gotten all the way up here as you stow it away and ready your laser rifle in preparation to meet the growing hordes of bark scorpions and radscorpions below you, scuttling around and under the bodies of four giant radscorpions getting ready to attempt to climb the rock separating you from their massive lethal stingers hanging menacingly over their heads.

Sarah Bear .
​

You have the feeling of being watched the rest of the way to Freeside, and once or twice you're quick enough to whip around and notice flashes of leather and rotting flesh and metal and bone - characteristic adornments of a Fiend, in the rubble of Las Vegas around you. Most Fiends only joined up in desperation to chase whatever escape they could find in chems, but there were rumors of those born to the backward and savage tribe you knew that kept their minds sharp to revel in the carnal pleasures. Picking up your step to put the sense of unease behind you, you arrived in Freeside without further incident. Kings eyed you in an appraising manner, as did a much less familiar mercenary, but neither decided you were worth the trouble of convincing you needed protection enough to talk to you. The community was largely how you remembered it from your last visit. Perhaps it was a little more civilized than when the tribes ruled the place, but the abject poverty remained.

 

[Axel The Englishman]

The Marshals

The situation was a problematic one. The plan was to separate and converge individually on the facility, but the marksmanship of those in the watch tower required improvisation. It was considered that thugs such as the Powder Gangers would lack much organisation or combat technique, but their reliance on overwhelming firepower and explosives could keep the Marshals surpressed, for the time being. The biggest problem was the snipers in the towers, since they would be the most accurate of the bunch. Luckily a large enough and well positioned rock provided the necessary cover to hide from the line of fire.

Booth kept an eye on those snipers without exposing himself too much to mark himself as a target. The first part of the newly configured plan was to take out the snipers before withdrawing and evading the rest of the Gangers. For a moment, the snipers had ceased their firing, and Booth remembered each firing a total of 5 times. This wouldn’t have been a problem if the snipers timed their shots and fired in a synchronised pattern. It was the Marshals’ turn.

With around 2 seconds to react, those armed with assault rifles brought their guns in line with those in the tower, but positioned themselves in a way to prevent exposure to gunfire from the rest of the gang behind the rock. When their skulls lined up in iron sights, the Marshals’ squeezed firmly on the triggers.​