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Futuristic Welcome to the New world(A post-apocalyptic one)

Cyratis

Junior Member

Pre-apocalypse
- Long before the end of days, the world was revolutionized by the invention of the German HDR-Generation engine, a bizarre machine that generated strange and extremely high energy particles that could be harnessed to great effect. Though some could argue that this was only the spark that created a world that diverged so greatly from our own. For in this world the NWC, a nation formed from the United states, Canada, and parts of middle america never intervened in the 2nd world war. This allowed the then Soviet Union to defeat Nazi Germany and rebuild the majority of Europe under soviet influence and rule, in fact almost everywhere in Europe east of France became part of the USSR. Things were equally as different on the far eastern front, as the Empire of Japan never attacked pearl harbor and thus only expanded further into asia and even conquered all of northern Australia. Soon after, both countries developed the atom bomb as the Generation engine technology began to sweep across the planet. This development on foreign ground worried the NWC beyond belief, who thought that they had fallen behind on their technology vastly compared to their rivals and soon enough a massive 3 way arms race began.


In order to quickly eclipse their rivals, the most influential and controversial president since Lincoln by the name of Jean Raylan passed the Unrestricted sciences act, which allowed the NWC scientists to be unbound by ethics and pursue any and all ends through any means in order to keep the NWC ahead of the curb. President Raylan also was the one to essentially institutes national paranoia, suspicion, and hate of the so called ''Enemies of the free world''. These developments lead to an unprecedented amount of technological developments, such as genetic engineering, advanced cybernetics, domestically sold robotic playmates and sentries, and even machines with fully dynamic and evolving personalities.


During this time in the mid 1960's, the NWC government established the Infinite dawn institute, their super secretive and almost fully independent R&D wing that was tasked with creating a wide range of advanced technology. This institute was mainly situated in the infamous Transit-1, an immense network of underground labs and bunkers that were often located just beneath major population centers. It was also around this time that the first HDR-Generation plant failed in it's containment and made hundreds of miles of land, uninhabitable for hundreds of years and mutated the animals into nightmarish new forms. This was the first time the world fully grasped the destructive potential of the HDR-particle, something the NWC took to heart. Soon after Transit-1 was completed in the late 1970's, the scientists at Site-17 created a device known as the Psychosphere generator, an invention that allowed for a wide radius of mind alteration signals and subversive message implantation.


Secretly the institute used their creation to gain control of the NWC government and change it's policies and strictures to better suit their own increasingly morally ambiguous ends. Other inventions of Infinite dawn include the various revolutionary generations of exo-suits and sonic wave guns among other things. Not long after they essentially hijacked the higher echelons of the NWC government, the institute went public as a new beacon of intellectual development that was always looking for fresh new minds to contribute. Unfortunately, the worlds largest HDR related incident occurred, and made large areas in the Empire of Japan and the Soviet Union uninhabitable and soaked with mutative HDR-particles.


This sowed further paranoia into the NWC citizens regarding the Generation engines and the danger they posed. In response the institute placed HDR-resistant antennae around many major urban centers in the event of a massive HDR related incident. The timing of this act proved to be impeccable, as HDR station failures occurred all across the planet and tainted hundreds of miles of land and cost countless lives across the 3 great superpowers. In the NWC this caused the government to move the majority of the population into the dense urban centers where they would be protected from a sudden HDR surge. In the cities, the civil tension was immense though the psychospheres were able to keep most of the urban population in check.


This was not true however for those still left in the countryside who were far outside of the Pyscospheres effective radius. These people formed an insurgency against the government and the institute, using guerrilla war tactics to attack military outposts and any vulnerable convoys. By this time, the institute had become so far gone that they would use any and all means to eradicate the usurpers quickly, whether by using exo-suit armored soldiers or in the case of one mad scientist, engineering a creature designed for urban pacification and to sow terror into their ranks. It did not help that at the same time, the NWC had launched a massive offensive into south america based upon false pretense in order to better field test their new weapons for the perceived inevitable war against the Japanese and the Soviets.


At this point, the NWC had become a corrupt dystopian hell-hole of rampant morally questionable science, experimentation, and total civil oppression. This only served to set the stage for the upcoming event that would change the world forever...


Post-apocalypse-


The new world is a twisted mockery of the civilization that once was, today it is nothing more than a hollow shell of a once mighty empire that is now inhabited by all sorts of unsavory characters. Many different settlements and factions that seek to carve out a piece of the new world for themselves. Unfortunately many of these people are doomed to- or have already become tyrants, despots, slave traders, bandits, and savage warring tribes. But that is not the worst of it, for the emergence was wrought and deformed the old world beyond recognition, breeding all kinds of dark creatures that seem as though they were born of the minds of men who lived a thousand years ago and believed in things like dragons and demons. Even organisms like plants haven't been untouched by the Emergence, in fact some would say that the flora can be even more dangerous than the new animals. In fact the mutations across the board have been so strange and deadly, that some plants have even grown whipping tentacle like vines to ensnare their victims as well as olfactory receptors(which lets them smell, essentially).


But the remnants of the world that was are everywhere, in the form of the robotic sentries that used to guard the world in ages past as well as the massive machines preformed more menial duties such as cleaning streets or hovering creations that kept watch on the people below. Some of them however were far more than that and have evolved personalities of their own, you will find most of them in the cities and towns that have survived the most well off, or even in little communities of their own. And since this new world is inherently hostile, the weapons of the former NWC are the most prized. Weapons such as micro-rocket launchers, Nano-cloud weapons, micro-wave rifles, sonic pulsators, and even fusion beam weapons. But the most prized tools of all, are the pre-Emergence exosuits. Exosuits come in a variety of forms and are only wielded by the greatest and most formidable survivors of the new world and offer unmatched protection as well as the added bonuses of granting strength enough to lift a car, and greatly enhanced speed and weapon handling. Even though the neural connection interface can wreak havoc on a mind that's been attached for too long.


Current former NWC-


Northeast(American)- Mostly dominated by Invictus forces from Boston and New york though their territory is slowly being encroached upon by Liberation. Also notable as housing the main base of the Watchmen in the Appalachian mountains in Maine.


Southeast(American)- Almost completely dominated by the forces of Liberation whose territory currently stretches from Georgia to the southern borders of Pennsylvania. Though they do face resistance in the New Florida region from the Swamp tribes, communities of scavengers and hunter gatherers that harbor both Human and Gaunt groups that have managed to live in mutual peace with each other.


Midwest(American)- A mostly untamed region that is not dominated by any one faction but rather a collection of town and city states that are in constant competition with each other but are held in check mostly by the Old world knights and the degenerate tribal hordes of Morlocks and Gaunts. The people that live in this area are also referred to as Rocklanders due to their situations within the old Rocky mountains.


Southwest(American)- The southwest today is a mostly untamed and blasted region that has seen several still ongoing wars between the up and coming Federation of Texas and the Desert dogs, a warrior tribe of conquerers who love to kill mutants and have shed old world values in order to adapt to a new and savage landscape. Though the most notorious faction operating in these parts is New Arizona territory, which is guarded by the titanic Steel legion though they mostly defend the city of Phoenix and leave the desperate refugees on the fringes with little to no real protection.


West(American)- Much like the Rocky mountains regions, the west is now dominated mostly by ravenous tribes of Morlocks that often capture and devour humans or take them as slaves. Though several large settlements have united in order to better resist this threat, many of which are located in the massive urban sprawl that was once San Francisco, which today is not much more than an inherently hostile concrete jungle, filled to the brim with mutants, skinnies, Gaunts, or much, much worse....


Alaska- Today, much of Alaska has shared the same fate as Canada and has mostly become an untamed alpine wild land that harbors some of the most dangerous creatures in living in the modern world. Thankfully however, there is one truly bright spot in this desolate place in the form of Anchorage Alaska which many today simply call "The Anchor". The Anchor is home to a wide assortment of people that managed to survive almost completely unaffected despite having little to no anti HDR-antennae. This means that the Anchor has prospered more far more than any other settlement in the northern NWC due to the variety of people that continue to thrive there and use to their talents to contribute to society. But since few have it easy in the new world, hardships face the Anchor almost everyday in the forms of disease, mutant attacks, earthquakes, and more recently, vicious tribes of cannibal Morlocks that live in the vast wilderness surrounding the city...


Factions(major)-


Invictus-The rulers of much of old new England who hail from the city of Boston and continue to evolve and research new technologies, especially in the fields of genetic modification and enhancement. This has allowed Invictus to breed incredibly tough, resistant, and strong soldiers who can easily shrug off wounds that would outright kill a normal person, especially when encased in their signature armored suits. These men and women are the primary fighting force for Invictus and are all armed with high grade weaponry, both ballistic and otherwise. Though they lack the numbers of many other factions due to the fact that only 1 in every 50 people survive the operation to become one of these supersoldiers. Invictus is primarily ruled by a council of 6 from the former state house who assumed control of the city during a brutal guerrilla war within the city after over throwing it’s corrupt rulers over 2 decades earlier. The city of Boston itself is mostly unscathed save for some of the damage it sustained during the revolution, not to mention being one of the most technologically advanced factions, experimental tech is bought and sold regularly in the cities now infamous Volk street.


Liberation-Liberation, also known as the Liberation front or Liberation army are an aggressive militaristic faction originating from the city of Atlanta Georgia and are ruled by the self styled General Hawke. Hawke founded this new army after realizing the evil of the world the Emergence had created and realized that the only way to survive in this new world was to reestablish the NWC under military rule and Liberate the people from the horrors of the new world, whether they like it or not. Liberation values it’s high numbers and disciplined soldiers as they are relatively low-tech compared to many other forces in the former NWC and have little access to the newer technologies of the old world such as Exo-suits and Directed energy weapons. Their weapons and vehicles as a result are more crudely made as they are mostly salvaged from older objects. Though a select few of their more elite ground troops are adorned in Helmbrecht suits and wield higher tier weaponry . Liberation has come into conflict with Invictus primarily due to their differing ideologies as Liberation sees the altering of humanity as unnatural and think that humanity should not have to alter it’s own base existence in order to live in the new world.


Steel legion- The Steel legion is a collective of war robots created before the apocalypse that were designed for homeland defense. The collective consists of around 1000 machines that currently provide protection for all within an area surrounding Phoenix Arizona. The Legions primary directives were altered by the scientist Eli Roth not long after the Emergence hit in order to defend the city of Phoenix and the people within while the scientists of the city attempted to find a means of reversing some of the damage done to the world. Since then their borders have expanded to accommodate refugees from some surrounding war torn areas. This area is known simply as New Arizona and is defended by the eponymous Steel legion. Each and every Steel legionnaire despite being a robot designed for war has it’s own personality and traits due to their advanced and evolving AI systems, as well as some of the most formidable weaponry in the world currently.


Old world knights-Also called “The order“, they are remnants of the former knights templar that operated as a secret society that helped manage the worlds wealth pre-emergence and has since devoted it’s existence to preserving humanity in any way that they can, as they fear mankind may slip into eternal barbarism if they don’t. The Old world knights are extremely secretive in their ways and rarely talk to outsiders unless they must. They also only recruit the finest soldiers and veterans from throughout the former NWC and also often recruit young men and women who show promise. The Orders Knights are also some of the most formidable fighters in the New world, that are known for accomplishing their objectives in whatever ways they can, whether that means going undercover or even slaughtering entire villages worth of people if their mission calls for it. In battle the knights will wear a very advanced exo-suit named the Hospitaller suit that outside of the order is practically non-existent. The Old world knights primarily operate out of a secret base in Colorado that in what is left of Cheyenne mountain , which they assumed command of not long after the disaster. The knights have operating bases and outposts all across the NWC, as well as in Europe and the Middle east.


Watchmen-A group of rangers, scouts, and peacekeepers that patrol the entirety of the former NWC and are currently expanding further into south america. The Watchmen believe in the preservation of life and at all times attempt to help people adapt to and live their lives in the dangerous new world. The Watchmen were formed by the former billionaire techy Austin Scully who was able to survive the apocalypse within his massive heavily fortified compound that was shielded from the worst of the emergence . From there he formed the Watchmen out of the soldiers, scientists, and survivalists and lucky civilians that he allowed to live out the end times in the compound with him and from there, his organization has only grown. The Watchmen’s primary doctrine is that life should only be taken to preserve the innocent, giving to the belief that people can only try and live with this new world instead of destroy it and to try understand the others that inhabit it as well. The Watchmen are a mostly mismatched organization that do not really have a common uniform outside of their badge and tattoo that all true Watchmen carry, though many of the more veteran members adorn the grey and blue camo Huntsman exosuit.


Outland mercenaries- High tech mercenaries of mysterious origin that wander the former NWC looking for any who will hire them, they are an uncommon sight in the new world and are known for their effectiveness in carrying out the tasks assigned to them. These mercenaries seem to have exo-suits that are seemingly apart of their bodies which offers them unprecedented speed and agility, as well as other extra ordinary abilities such as active camouflage. They are often hired by prominent members of other factions for their service or an entire settlement pitches in to hire one of these elite killers. Nobody knows where they come from or what their ultimate motives are, only that they rarely ever lift a finger if they are not being paid.


Philadelphia territory(our setting)


People-As with all of the former NWC, the people that live in the Philadelphia territory are all survivors regardless of their trade or role in society. But that is not to say that there is little variation in the population, for some towns vary considerably on their stances towards certain issues such as that of sentient machines or rehabilitated mutants. Overall though, the quality of the people here is a blessing compared to some other places in the old NWC, that's not to say that some folks won't shoot you on sight or try to mug you but in all honesty that's a given these days....


Settlements- Due to not being under the guidance of any particular faction, the Philadelphia territory is still more or less just a disparate collection of small towns and settlements, some of which have fared better than others. Places like Barrow town and old Lancaster serve as places of trade for the ever growing New world express, who will deliver just about anything if you pay them enough. Barrow town even has it's own outpost for the Watchmen, who help the locals with a variety of tasks which more than often include killing mutants who are getting just a little too close for comfort. Other settlements include the modest town of Grey port along Delaware bay and the few remaining places of human habitation in the metropolis of Philadelphia itself, though most save for those from Liberation or Invictus have abandoned that accursed place....


Enviorment-While not too long ago, the Philadelphia region was not very different from most any other territory in the northeast NWC. However, ever since the war and constant skirmishes between Invictus and Liberation began, thousands of hungry scavengers have been attracted by the fresh dead, and they have brought even bigger predators with them. It was not too long ago that creatures like Horned beasts where spoken of as legendary creatures due to their rarity but now they've arrived in spades and there are even sparse reports of Cain beasts and Morlocks wandering the wilderness.


Places of Interest-


Naval yard-A small town nestled in the ruins of Philadelphia that houses plenty of traders who can sell you some of the most exotic goods this side of the Mississippi.


Hope creek-The main point of contention between the forces of Liberation and Invictus, though it is currently vacant small camps from either faction reside there to keep watch and make sure that nobody makes a move on the facility unless its them....


Where we begin


We all start in Barrow Town itself.
 
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The watchmen s outpost in Barrow town was nothing more than a glorified postal office, which I guess is to be expected since in the past that's exactly what it was. The only true changes were some fortifications on the windows and a back room that was full of deadly firearms instead of useless junk mail and packages. It was here in this dusty, dry, old world office that a man in his early thirties who wore a long coat and a bullet proof vest sat leaning back with his arms crossed as the representative from the watchmen asked him questions. "So, the big question is, why do you want to join the Watchmen?", inquired the man behind the desk. The man in the seat, whose name was Alaric, responded accordingly and honestly, "Mostly out of sheer boredom and because I need something much better to do than fight super soldiers wearing exosuits...".


The person behind the desk rose an eyebrow towards his response but nonetheless continued to type out notes about Alaric. The receptionist continued, "You used to be a scout sniper for Liberation, that's quite a lofty space up in their ranks". Seeing the implied question, Alaric responded "It was never really my cup of tea, but since they like to forcibly recruit from a young age in Liberation territory I didn't really have a choice, good thing I was a hell of a shot with a long rifle". Alaric adjusted his seating a little, and then continued "I always hated being ordered around, I guess that's why I loved climbing in the ranks and being able to order people around myself. Really though, wandering is my true calling, and if I can help out some well meaning folks along the way than that's all I could ask for". The typist behind the desk thought about this for a moment, and than continued "Well, you certainly look like the type who can handle himself out there and I can tell you mean well, so I'll put in a good word for ya. But you realize I can only make you an official watchmen once you've proven yourself". The man reached under his desk and pulled out a small grey star shaped pendent with some basic embroidery and the word "Watchmen" stamped on it. "Now this is only a temporary sign of affiliation, until you've earned your spurs your only acting out watchmen business" the man handed Alaric the pendent which he grabbed slowly from his hand. "Thank you sir, I'll put this to good use for the people of Barrow town" he said examining the pendent. "Now on to your first assignment as an acting watchmen agent, some cattle's disappeared as of late, probably nothing major just catch the culprit, easy". Alaric nodded and got up from his chair and turned to collect his things, a decent revolver, small calibre sub machine gun, a high powered sniper rifle, and a high tech full face gas mask. Before leaving the man behind the desk asked "Sorry I forgot to ask but whats your name son?". Alaric turned and gave a swift and sound reply "Alaric", he then walked out the door and beheld the cloudy twilight that had gripped Barrow town, "Should be easy enough" Alaric thought to himself as he began to walk down the street.
 
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The stranger's shadow preceded him by what seemed like miles, stretching out along the cracked and mottled highway, the wind toying with his battered old trench coat, his wide-brimmed hat fluttering and always threatening to fly off ahead of him when a stronger gust blew up. He could feel it moving, almost, and would reach up to clap it down atop his head with a gloved hand when the breeze tugged it too hard. He was dressed heavily for the weather, but it didn't bother him. Very little did these days.


He walked in silence toward the little burg called Barrow Town, had been walking for ages from the west. He had come from what used to be a little town in the Allegheny national forest, in western Pennsylvania. He had, once upon a time, spent many happy years there. It had seemed natural to him, as he had strangled the life from WesTek Research guard, to return there. He was not so foolish as to think that any of his friends might still be there, or even be alive, but he had been lost and confused at the time and had hoped seeing something familiar would bring him a sense of perspective. Or comfort. Or direction, at least. Something. He was largely ignorant of the socio-political crisis that had engulfed his country while he had been wasting away at WesTek and his travels had only brought him a dim awareness that things had gone generally down hill. He passed some folks here and there on his journey, but most shunned him and a few openly feared him. He supposed that couldn't be helped. But he feared all the attention he was getting would cause him trouble. It was only a matter of time before word spread about the bizarre man heading north along the remains of route 279. He had seen people in the hellish slums of Pittsburgh slit each other's throats for scrap metal when he picked his way through the intestinal wreckage of the local highways and he was sure someone would get it in their head that there was profit in tracking someone like him. So, after a few days on the road, he strangled a human being for only the second time in his life. It was sickeningly easy, collapsing the struggling mugger's stubbly windpipe in his iron grip. He waited for a time after the man's last pitiful death twitch and then relieved him of his coat, his boots, his hat, and gloves. They did not cover the stranger completely—he was at least a size bigger than the average man now—but they would do.


And so he continued on to his ancient stomping grounds. He entertained, perhaps stupidly, the idea of idyllic streets and stately old houses, of the wind in the leaves and friendly old folk out walking their dogs. Maybe, he thought with a nostalgic smile, he would see children piling onto or off of a school bus. But it was not to be. Arriving at his dear little home town, he found only ruins and despair. He spoke to no one, had not spoken in he didn't know how long for fear of his own voice, but he listened to survivors as they scrabbled about in filth. It appeared there had been a battle. Or an insurgency. Something violent. So he left, heading east for no reason other than his personal whim.


Weeks went by and he saw and heard much. He began feigning disability, pretending to have suffered from some damage to his throat. Most people assumed it had happened “during the war” and those who were kind enough to have spoken to him in the first place often shared their supplies with him. Food, usually, which he appreciated even if he ate only very little anymore. Eventually he realized he was approaching Philadelphia, or whatever it had become since his imprisonment. He learned from an old gentleman who sold water in grimy bottles to travelers along the highway that there was a prosperous little settlement called Barrow Town thereabouts and he had resolved to find it, simple as that. The old man gave him directions and a free bottle of water, saying the stranger reminded him of his son.


“Thanks” he had said, wincing at the metallic hollowness of his own voice. The old man nodded and watched in wonder as the stranger in the hat and trench coat walked on down the road, wordlessly handing off the water bottle to a passing mother and child.


Now here he was, on the outskirts of this Barrow Town. It was something new to him, something forged from the dying carcass of a city, the way the old Norse gods had fashioned a world from the corpse of the first ice giant. He didn't know what he would do in this place, but he knew he would do something, alright. He smiled sourly. “I always hated Philly.”
 
The dark and dusty streets of Barrow town seemingly gnawed on Alarics senses, for he always hated being unaware and left in the dark. Though for someone who relied on a straight line of sight to take out his targets, that was to be expected. At the very least the twilight hours had forced the residents of Barrow town back into whatever loathsome hollow they called home, which meant that the streets were sparsely populated and allowed for plenty of breathing room if conflict was about to arise. Not that the former sniper had expected one, though he knew better than to think that any place in this new world was fit for absolute serenity. It was at this point that an abnormal shadow pulled itself away from the darkness of a nearby alley. The shape was tall, very tall, inhumanly tall by Alarics estimations. As it got closer he noticed the being was covered in rags and plates of metal that seemed as though they had been torn away from old automobiles. And then, it was standing right in front of him and he could fully appreciate the being as he got a full and un-welcomed view of it's face. The beast dwarfed Alaric, for it was at least 8, maybe even 9 feet tall and had a face that seemed straight out of one of those old world monster movies. The creatures visage had very few vestigial human traits, but for the most part it looked like an unholy cross between an insect and a savage primeval reptile, all topped off with iridescent orange eyes and sickly grey skin. The creature stared down at Alaric for a moment before uttering a word in an accent that reminded one of an irritated animal, "What are you look'in at pinko?" said the being. Alaric was rooted to the spot in disbelief, his mouth hanging wide open like some stunned child. The figure stared at him before letting out some air from it's nostrils that apparently signaled annoyance and then it wandered off back into the darkened alleyways. Alaric stood there for another moment before he deduced that he had not imagined the whole episode and continued on to his destination, the bar in the middle of town where he would meet up with the missing cattle's owner, a man named Peterson. Alaric felt that in the coming days, he would be haunted by that encounter in some form or another.
 
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It was a sleepy little hamlet, this Barrow Town. Or perhaps oppressed. The sun crept toward the western horizon as the stranger made his way through dim, filthy streets and shadow figures flitted and danced in the corners of his vision like moths. If he wanted, he could have seen them plain as day, but he worried that using his augmented vision would give him away for what he was. Unlike the travelers on the highway, most of the denizens of this place seemed content to stay out of his way. Most of them never even looked at him. Most of them, actually, never seemed to look at anything but their shoes. He glided absently through the thinning stream of pedestrians and occasional wandering livestock. He wondered what he would do, now that he was here. He knew what the WesTek people would want him to do, but that wasn't a priority. He felt he needed some sort of purpose, though. What else was there for him? To wander on forever, disconnected from the world, never understanding or being understood? Never interacting with anything more meaningfully than walking past it on an endless journey to nowhere?


No. The aimlessness would have to end. Here seemed as good a place to end up as any, for now. Small. Easily digested, or at least more so than some huge dilapidated metropolis. He wandered until he found a bar. Rumors flew in places where alcohol flowed and rumors, he knew, often told of deeper truths to those who knew how to listen. It was a little shack with the words “STACY'S TAVERN” pained hastily on a large piece of plywood and propped against the railing of a small porch made mostly of rotten wood. Every once in a while patrons would stumble in or out through the battered old wood door, and he could hear the sounds of drinking and talking through a couple of shattered windows. The stranger stood outside in the growing dark and contemplated. Was this really the best place to begin. . .whatever he was doing? What was he doing? Did he fancy himself some kind of knockoff Batman? Was he going to walk in, hear that someone needed help, and rush to their aid? Would they even let him?


“Hey, buddy!” He winced. In his hesitation, he had attracted attention. Lingering in the street like a trench-coated weirdo. Idiot! “You!” The voice had a sort of wobble to it. A chunky-looking silhouette detached itself from the side of the building. Maybe he'd been leaning there all along. He staggered forward into the fading pool of light the stranger occupied. “Who the fuck are you?” He demanded drunkenly. “Whatsha doin', starin' at Stacy's place? You a freak? You want trouble?” He stood uncomfortably close, but the stranger did not budge. He did not respond, and his silence irritated the drunk. “Hey, I'm talkin' t'you! Don'ch'you got any manners?”


“I don't want trouble.” Said the stranger softly, and the man squinted up at him.


“Hey you sound funny. Like you're talkin' into a canna soup.”


The stranger regarded the drunk with a dark brown stare. “I don't want trouble.” He repeated. But the man was fixated now. Speaking again had probably been a mistake.


“Hey, why you sound like that? Why you hidin' yer face? Lemme lookatchoo!” The stocky little man reached up with a thick hand and tried to snatch away the stranger's hat. He stepped deftly backwards and the man missed, staggering and then falling into the mud. “Wha's wrong? Show me yer face, freak!” He spluttered, standing up.


“Stop.” Insisted the stranger. But the man as determined now, and had attracted a number of other people, now standing in a loose circle around the scene, staring, talking, mumbling.


“Show me yer fuckin' face!” Enraged, the drunk took a swing. Before he could stop himself, the stranger brought an arm up to block, catching the clumsy swing in the crook of his elbow and delivering an iron blow to the man's pudgy stomach. He made a whoof sound and dropped to his knees.


“Hey!” Someone else called. The stranger made a rasping, irritated sound in his throat. “This guy's tryin' to start something over here!”


“I'm really not.” He said quietly, not expecting it to matter. It didn't, and in a few moments he found himself surrounded by a small number of the type of toughs that always seem to hang around seedy little bars. “You don't want to do this.” He insisted. “I'm stronger than I look.”
 
Alaric walked onward towards the bar as the ambient lighting grew ever darker, with the only substantial light sources coming from the windows of the few shops and houses that were still open for business. And as Alaric turned the corner, he began to hear a somewhat substantial ruckus coming from just outside the bar. And as Alaric looked on towards the small dust filled square outside the bar he saw exactly what was happening.


What was happening, was that a few drunken idiots had surrounded someone who didn't most likely didn't deserve the negative attention he had received. The thing is that the person at the center of the small conflict was, different, to say the least. He was taller than all of the men surrounding him by a at least a head, and was covered in clothing that was intended to hide something, what that something is was a subject Alaric cared little for at the moment. All he could tell was that it was not the lone stranger that would be at a disadvantage if this conflict continued, for his bulk matched that of the post human Invictus soldiers that he had been forced to fight only a few weeks earlier. So Alaric could only conclude that he was one of those, and if that were the case than these poor drunken fools would not stand a chance.


Fooling himself into thinking that he was the good natured soul he thought himself to be, he decided then and there that he would not let this fight continue. Thankfully, it looked like the combatants surrounding the man did not have firearms to hand, not that he could see at least and even if they did his speed would prove deadly if they did not submit. In a quick motion, Alaric reached down and gripped the handle of his revolver and shot a single round into the sky, startling all of those in the square.


Alaric began to speak "Now that I have your attention, It would be most wise if all of those who mean this man harm scatter real quick". Alaric spoke with authority yet he managed to keep a calm demeanor in his tone. Slowly, some of those who had surrounded the mysterious man backed away with their hands in full view of Alaric. A few however were not so wise and thought to reach for the concealed firearms on their hips that Alaric had not seen a moment ago. Alaric was still not so worried about this development however and aimed his revolver between the eyes of the armed man closest to him, there were 3 in total. "Pull that gun free boy and I'll pump all three of you full of lead before you'll even know what hit you, and I doubt you'll even point your shooter straight with all that liquor in ya". It seemed as though they had heeded his words as all three of the scruffy looking men pulled their hands from their guns a and walked back out into the street. Alaric, seeing the matter closed for the moment, did the same and walked towards the tall man in the middle, who had not moved an inch. "Well sir, it seems as though you owe me," Alaric said with a smug smile as he put out his hand to greet the person whom he saved the trouble of murdering a few intoxicated idiots....
 
The stranger looked calmly at this other man, who had come and dispersed the crowd. He was tough-looking, but much smaller. It was amazing, the way the human mind worked. A single unarmed opponent could be the size of a bear without being half as intimidating as an infirm child with a gun.


“It seems I do.” He said in his odd, hollow voice. He tilted his head up for the first time, revealing a young, but hard-looking face, Caucasian with a hint of Japanese in his ancestry. A smile tugged at the corner of his circular goatee. “Thank you. I'm a stranger here. I was just looking for a job. Thought I'd pick up some rumors at the bar.” He looked down at the first man who approached him, still huddled in a ball and clutching his stomach, abandoned by his friends. He was whimpering, and had vomited copiously. The stranger hesitated. It was now or never. Act like a stranger, be a stranger. Want friends? Be friendly. “You can call me Dorian.” He extended a hand slowly, hoping the other man wouldn't notice his uncanny strength, and the unnatural hardness of the hand beneath the glove.
 
"Well met Dorian" Alaric said, shaking his hand with a firm grip, though he had to admit that Dorians grip felt like iron. "It seems like your new in town, I'm sorry that this was your first experience in Barrow town the people are usually much more hospitable" Alaric said as he looked down at the miserable man in the mud "Well most of them anyway, well I've got some business to tend to in the bar, your welcomed to tag along if you so desire". With this, Alaric started towards the door and opened it a crack before turning back to look at Dorian, "And for the record, you sir are the least strange thing that I've seen today" Alaric said before heading inside to find the man he had been looking for.


 
The bar in the center of Barrow Town seemed in some ways like it's crowning achievement, a nice almost clean place that was welcoming to outsiders and a vocal point for interaction. Of course there were few people there now due to the time of day but also due to the small but rather loud argument that had taken place just outside a few moments ago. The lighting was homely enough and the bar itself seemed fully stocked along with a tired eyed bartender. But the real main attraction was the nice large radio that picked up frequencies from that annoying announcer who called himself "Mr.Sands" who sometimes told the local news but most of the time just told bad jokes that some idiots thought were hilarious. Thankfully Mr.Sands was not on right now and a nice sounding song in the genre the old world used to call "Blues" was playing and it's soothing influence seemed to flow across all of the bars patrons. All except one man in the corner, who looked worried beyond belief.


This was the man named Peterson, the one whose precious livestock kept vanishing from the face of the earth and the person whom served as the object of Alarics search. Peterson was definitely an older man, one who had very pale skin and was showing early signs of balding. He wore basic clothes and sat at a vacant round table accompanied only by a half empty pint of whiskey. Alaric than slowly made his way towards Peterson, his boots creaking the floorboards as he walked.
 
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Anthony "Tony" Watkins sat at Barrow Towns bar, his suit and tie made him stand out among the wastelanders who sat around him. He took another sip of his drink, some cheap rum the bartender no doubt had brewing in his basement. Anthony was a businessman at heart, a charismatic man who hated to get his hands dirty, but should the situation arise he would not be above crushing a few skulls. And crushing a few skulls he was going to do.


Anthony worked for one Andreas Costner, a fellow entrepreneur in the business of armaments, who secured them from various scavengers, and raiders, through either the gift of the tongue or treachery. Anthony had been sent to Philadelphia by his employer to take over the operation of one Joseph Wyatt, a smuggler who ran Invictus weapons from a contact within their supply corps to the Naval yards. The reason Anthony was to terminate him was simple, Wyatt now sold to Costner's competitors, which meant that in order to remain profitable, meant a forcible acquisition of Wyatt's goods.


Now this wasn't a new or indeed different concept for Tony, he'd been doing this job since the tender age of sixteen, admittedly though that had been seizing the lemonade stand from his younger sisters competitors, but the concept overall remained the same. He finished his drink before walking to the nearest postal office. He looked at the man in charge and handed the letter to him. "Get this to Georgia within the next thirty six hours." Tony said, taking out double the usual postal fee, before the man could protest, Tony left, hoping Mr.Sands would come back on.
 
*the old world music abruptly stops and static can be heard for a moment before a man starts to talk on the radio, his voice is an old rough one but at same time it is full of enthusiasm*


"Morning good residents of New Pennsylvania, this is your lovely host Mr.Sands broadcasting from Liberty point Philadelphia. In today's news it seems as though the forces from Liberation have made an aggressive push beyond their base in the far south of the city and set up a new perimeter line in Philadelphia's down town and in response the boys from Invictus have pushed on towards philadelphia proper and sent scouts to various locations, including the Naval yards. In other news apparently some cattle have disappeared from Barrow town, boring, and Oh, Invictus and Liberation forces were seen in a small skirmish a short ways south of Lancaster, unfortunately their little spat was broken up by a rather large and angry Cain beast, so travelers, watch yourselves. Well that's all for today folks know lets give a warm welcome to a long dead man by the name of Muddy waters".


*Music starts up again*
 
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Dorian. What an odd name. He had chosen it from the top of his head, more or less. It certainly wasn't what his mother had called him, years and years ago. It would do, though. He had remembered it from something he had read once. Living in the WesTek labs, he had been allowed few luxuries or freedoms, but he had certainly been allowed to read. In fact it had been encouraged, stacks of books delivered to his tiny living compartment any time he asked. This particular story, the one he had taken his new name from, was about a vain young man who thought to defy time itself. He had a painter create a cursed image of him that would age in his stead, but he was forbidden from ever looking at the painting: if he did the spell would be broken, and all those years would come crashing back onto him all at once. Immortality. It was one of the things the WesTek researchers had promised him. It sounded good at the time. He had to admit that it still sounded pretty good, despite what he had given up for it. He wondered why all the old-world stories always seemed to suggest that living forever was a bad thing.


He followed this man who had helped him, and listened idly to a radio broadcast in the background. Something about the war. Dorian wondered if the soldiers would arrive in this little Barrow Town in time. That would cause more chaos, of course, but could also bring up some interesting opportunities. Particularly. . .particularly if any of the soldiers came equipped with their prized suits of powered armor.


His impromptu guide seemed to have spotted what he was looking for, so the stranger in the trench coat followed silently as he cut his way through the maze of tables and people and approached a distressed-looking older fellow near the back.
 
Alaric saw that his new unexpected ally had followed him into the bar and he smiled, for he was glad that he had been able to make some new acquaintances, especially with someone of that stature. Anyway, the 2 then made their way towards the older man Peterson in the back and sat down at the table with him and his unfinished alcoholic beverage. Peterson was old but in some ways seemed unnaturally aged, he had ragged, rough, and scarred skin despite the light tone of his complexion and the bags under his eyes spoke volumes about countless stressful nights. Peterson looked at the 2 and with weary, tired eyes and started to speak. "I thought the Watchmen were only sending one, whose this?" Peterson spoke with impatience mixed with worry as he beheld the new comer. Alaric however spoke quickly and silenced his worry, "This is Dorian, and as far as anyone is concerned we are both acting as agents of the Watchmen, now tell us your piece old man".


Peterson quietly accepted this and started on his tale, "It all began about 4 days ago, I woke up one morning and one of my cattle had vanished without a trace. I thought the whole thing was strange but I wasn't going to bother anyone over it, I just stayed up extra late with my shotgun in hand that night. I was awaken until the early morning and nothing had happened so I thought the matter was closed. But the next day....half my herd was gone, it looked like there was a bit of a struggle but it was the mostly same M.O as before. By now I was terrified, what could be capable of just picking up a cow and carrying it off without making so much as a peep? Thing is, the next night, I got my answer...." Peterson looked down and took a deep breath before speaking again.


"I was determined to catch at least a glimpse of whatever was doing this, if I knew the culprit than maybe I could do something...But anyway, I contacted a friend who allowed me to send most of my herd to be held on his land but the remnants are the ones I stayed up all night to watch. It was in the late hours of the night and I only had about 2 cows left with me by now and they were asleep, everything seemed calm but then.....I saw this huge great shadow just...step..,over my fence. I was staring from my roof at this thing as it just strolled across my field like a ghost. But then it was in the moonlight and I could see the creature for what it was...it's bony, scaly hide, the giant curved claws, it's huge devil horns....it just walked up to one of my cows, broke it's neck,picked it up with it's mouth and wandered off back into the wilds...It was a 16 foot tall Cain beast, no doubt about it.....


Peterson paused for a moment more in recollection before continuing again. "Now you know why I came to the Watchmen in the first place...I can't kill a Cain beast on my own, and based on your armaments I doubt you can either.....but please, will you help me?"
 
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"Fuck me." Tony scowled at the message Mr.Sands was sending, now he'd fucking require a damn escort, Anthony could hold himself in combat, but he wasn't at all interested in trying to stare down the two forces. The solution soon presented itself, he'd have to contract some mercenaries for more work. He looked around at the bar, some of these men seemed like they could hold themselves. Anthony stood up "Alright," he said "My name is Anthony, and I need to get to central Philly, there is a four thousand dollar reward per man, for the ladies or gentlemen who get me there."
 
As Alaric was about to speak his mind to Peterson, he both saw and heard the man in the suit stand up and offer a nice and hefty reward for some mercenary work. Alaric thought for a few moments, it was quite obvious the Peterson needed help with his predicament, but on the other hand Alaric was not extremely eager to risk his life trying to kill one of the most dangerous creatures on earth. Alaric thought for a moment, extremely dangerous assignment that at most he would get a pat on the back for, or relatively easy escort mission that would allow him to be free of money troubles for a few months...


Alaric looked at Peterson and said, "That certainly is a mighty bad predicament and the Watchmen will be sure to send some of it's better equipped people to help you, okay". Even before Peterson could respond Alaric was making his way towards the most official looking man in the establishment, though he wondered what Dorian would think of him for just leaving the man in his time of need, but he also thought that the money promised would make up for it....
 
Anthony looked at him "So, I 'spose your interested in what I have to say then." he said, resuming his seat and taking a sip of his beer "Basically, you get me there, protect me while I am there, and I will triple, no quadruple your salary, alright?" he asked, looking the man in the eyes, "Just do what I say and you'll become a very rich man."
 
Alaric thought about the mans words and though he did not like his type, he decided to take his word for it but that did not mean he did not have any questions.


"Why exactly do you need an escort, cause if your in trouble with Invictus or any other big names than I'm afraid your gonna have a tough ride pal"
 
"I'm not in trouble with them." he said, it was a white lie, they didn't know their guns were being stolen. "I'm just somewhat afraid that I'll end up killed in the crossfire." he said "Any other questions?"
 
"Just one, what kind of Business you in?, cause if your running drugs I'm out"


Alaric said in a somewhat accusing tone"
 
Alaric, satisfied with this answer- only had 1 more real question to ask the "Business man"


"Just one more question, who exactly do you work for? are you with the New world express? or are you a bit less well known?"...
 
"I work for Andreas Costner, a merchant of sorts down in Georgia, he's keen to acquire these guns as soon as possible." Anthony said "He isn't the nicest man you'll ever meet, but if you don't try to fuck him over, you'll end up rich."
 
Alaric, now intrigued, decided to forsake his previous statement and ask some more questions...


"So, is this Costner guy in the Generals hand bag too? and what kind of guns you after? Ballistic? Fusion? Rail weapons?"
 
"I'm not the weapons guy." he said "Costner has people down south who look after that, no, we're just going to go and reclaim them." Anthony took a sip from his drink "I don't know if Costner works for some higher power, it isn't any of my business if he does or doesn't, what is my business is doing his bidding."
 
"I mean General Haw- oh never mind, it's not like it matters anyway", Alaric said, while rubbing his tired eyes, "What does matter is that me, and my associate" Alaric said while pointing back towards Dorian. "We should set off in the morning, all the biggest and baddest beasts come out at night anyway". Alaric than stood up from the table and continued "It's only a few days trip from here to Philly but unfortunately the shortest path is crawling with Wargs, Crawlers, and some think that a few Horned beasts have made their home there, so I'll be sure to get a good rest so I can be nice and alert in the morning and I suggest you do the same". Alaric than walked over to the bar itself and paid the Bartender for the room which he would be staying for the night, one with 2 beds so he and Dorian could get a well deserved rest before setting off in the morning...
 
Anthony nodded "I will be seeing you both down here tomorrow at seven, sharp." he said, finishing his drink and walking upstairs to his room. He opened the door and climbed into bed, sleeping soundly.
 

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