@Letter Bee
As the five people began to venture into the street, Par Rapids would begin to notice an undeniable feeling of - paranoia. The people and merchants were in perfect order, tending to their goods and bartering out outrageous prices, but it was difficult to shake the feeling of being watched. And if Par Rapids looked closer, taking a keen eye to every occasional merchant and adventurer that glanced at his face - he would notice that undeniably, each merchant was taking the occasional stare at him, looking him over with hardened eyes and a sense of odd knowledge; as if they knew something that he didn't. They each took notice of him - perhaps, evidently, the word that he was in the French Revolution had spread during his nap, and he was certainly feeling the effects of it. As the sun began to set, letting orange and purple blobs streak across the air for a cool, dark night, a young man would call out to him to stop by.
"Avez-vous un compteur Giger?" {Do you have a giger counter?} He asked, waiting patiently, tapping the radio on his small, merchant desk decorated with goods. "I repeat, avez-vous un - ah, screw it; I know you're in the French Revolution anyways. Every knows! Anyway, you heard the announcement on Vox Populi recently?"
The merchant looked around, glancing for Order Knights doing their patrol in the area - only taking notice to a seedy looking mechanics shop and butcher's place. He looked up, grinned, and slowly cranked the radio's dial to a frequency lower than it was designed to go - evidently, this radio had been specially modded to go for it, with a series of wires, circuits, and lights errantly soldered onto it without a care - and it would cut into a repeating dialogue that had just been broadcasted by the Cajun Queen in the Mississippi, and who was currently spreading the news at this very moment through their expansive radio equipment. Through the radio, Par might catch the clear, fluid notes of Napoleon V - and even with his relatively high charisma, it was no match to Napoleon V's as he himself would feel a certain sense of want and awe if he listened to her voice declaring war against the peoples. Accompanied by her speech was a translation for the less-than-French inclined.
"Mes chers concitoyens, hommes, femmes, et enfants de notre ce ville! Ecoutez-moi attentivement! Car l'heure approche de lancer la campagne finale qui otera le Roi et son cercle priviligie qui accable Notre peuple depuis bien trop long temps. Ce jour, attendu depuis tant d'annees, eat enfin proche. Prochainement, mes soldats, armes de foi et d'acier, prendra d'assaut les bastions d'ignorance et de repression que le Roi et ses chiens utilisent pour nos opprimer - la Bastille, dans la mort de la nuit - minuit. Vous joindre à nous, révolutionnaires, et nous allons détruire le symbole de l'oppression et la tyrannie qui sévit dans ce pays depuis si longtemps.
A mort le Roi! Vive le peuple!"
My fellow citizens, men, women, and children of this fair city! Hear me now! For the hour is approaching where we launch the campaign to topple the King and his privileged circle who have weighed down our people for too long. The day, too long in coming, is upon us. Very soon, my soldiers, armed with faith and steel, will assault the bastions of ignorance and repression used by the King and his dogs to keep our noses in the dirt - the Bastille, in the dead of night - midnight. It will be a historic day. Join us, revolutionaries, and we will destroy the symbol of oppression and tyranny that has plagued this land for so long!
Death to the King! Long live the People!
@The Nexerus
The Cajun Queen would continue drifting down the lurching, hazy waters of the Mississippi River - cutting it's way across a century-old river as the wafting scent of the Cajun food of Orleans began to edge past - emanating from the vegetative-covered sides of the river. The river's banks were adorned by old, wooden cabins, dampened by the thick, rough waves that commonly beat at the sides of the houses. The scent of seafood was strong around that little river settlement - the scent of Gumbo, Jambalaya, and Mirelurk Delight - a fresh new side of the wasteland and a far cry from the rust cut flanks of irradiated and mutated beasts lurking around the less-than-savory parts of the wastes. As the boat passed by, broadcasting tunes from Radio Fantasy - several ragged townspeople came out of their abodes to wave at the passerby, some holding steaming bowls of fresh food, others aiming guns at the newcomers, feeling standoffish and aloof.
The settlement of "Riversides" was a small, towny settlement - it had refused countless demands by The Order to be assimilated into the growing monarchy - they were fully aware that if they did, they would be quickly evicted, their town destroyed, and sent as refugees to be scattered across districts. No, they enjoyed a simpler life, their river houses perched on the wet sides of the river, where they cooked thick bowls of stew and defended the town from raider assaults and wildlife attacks. The settlement was in a good place where it stood, located between Proulx and Fontaine. The Cajun Queen would continue on past the waters while still playing an old blues number, and the settlement of Riverside was quickly passed by. As the armored ship continued forth, the crew would begin to notice a certifiable change in atmosphere - the trees on the banks grew thicker, vines hung from the ends, and the vegetation took a sharp upturn in terms of quantity.
As it got deeper and deeper into the territory, all seemed to genuinely quiet down - the waters of the river no longer beat on the ship, the murmurs of the irradiated land animals far away. This place was old. Upon closer inspection - beyond the heavy thicket of vines coating the entire river, one could view the remains of a concrete building that had been seared by nuclear fire two hundred years ago. If they looked closely, they would notice a Nuka Cola machine lying on the banks, a noticeable rusted chunk bitten out of it and the Nuka Cola contents within it long size been emptied out into the river. The place was, without a doubt, a member of the "Outer Regions," the land that The Order had claimed as unrenewable and long-since been reclaimed by the earth and radiation. It was no doubt - even now, every breath was just the smallest contanimation of radiation - and the water was, without a doubt, mortal after a few seconds of soaking in it. It was the closest place you'd get to the Glowing Bog, but without instantly killing you the moment you rode in.
Up ahead, lying on the banks of the river and coated in moss and vegetation, were several Boglurks, lazily laying about, their eyes coated in a yellow film as they rested - most likely after devouring the nearest raider ship that had entered their territory. They eyed the Cajun Queen as she began to pass by, their greedy, gluttonous stomachs rumbling at the thought.
As the five people began to venture into the street, Par Rapids would begin to notice an undeniable feeling of - paranoia. The people and merchants were in perfect order, tending to their goods and bartering out outrageous prices, but it was difficult to shake the feeling of being watched. And if Par Rapids looked closer, taking a keen eye to every occasional merchant and adventurer that glanced at his face - he would notice that undeniably, each merchant was taking the occasional stare at him, looking him over with hardened eyes and a sense of odd knowledge; as if they knew something that he didn't. They each took notice of him - perhaps, evidently, the word that he was in the French Revolution had spread during his nap, and he was certainly feeling the effects of it. As the sun began to set, letting orange and purple blobs streak across the air for a cool, dark night, a young man would call out to him to stop by.
"Avez-vous un compteur Giger?" {Do you have a giger counter?} He asked, waiting patiently, tapping the radio on his small, merchant desk decorated with goods. "I repeat, avez-vous un - ah, screw it; I know you're in the French Revolution anyways. Every knows! Anyway, you heard the announcement on Vox Populi recently?"
The merchant looked around, glancing for Order Knights doing their patrol in the area - only taking notice to a seedy looking mechanics shop and butcher's place. He looked up, grinned, and slowly cranked the radio's dial to a frequency lower than it was designed to go - evidently, this radio had been specially modded to go for it, with a series of wires, circuits, and lights errantly soldered onto it without a care - and it would cut into a repeating dialogue that had just been broadcasted by the Cajun Queen in the Mississippi, and who was currently spreading the news at this very moment through their expansive radio equipment. Through the radio, Par might catch the clear, fluid notes of Napoleon V - and even with his relatively high charisma, it was no match to Napoleon V's as he himself would feel a certain sense of want and awe if he listened to her voice declaring war against the peoples. Accompanied by her speech was a translation for the less-than-French inclined.
"Mes chers concitoyens, hommes, femmes, et enfants de notre ce ville! Ecoutez-moi attentivement! Car l'heure approche de lancer la campagne finale qui otera le Roi et son cercle priviligie qui accable Notre peuple depuis bien trop long temps. Ce jour, attendu depuis tant d'annees, eat enfin proche. Prochainement, mes soldats, armes de foi et d'acier, prendra d'assaut les bastions d'ignorance et de repression que le Roi et ses chiens utilisent pour nos opprimer - la Bastille, dans la mort de la nuit - minuit. Vous joindre à nous, révolutionnaires, et nous allons détruire le symbole de l'oppression et la tyrannie qui sévit dans ce pays depuis si longtemps.
A mort le Roi! Vive le peuple!"
My fellow citizens, men, women, and children of this fair city! Hear me now! For the hour is approaching where we launch the campaign to topple the King and his privileged circle who have weighed down our people for too long. The day, too long in coming, is upon us. Very soon, my soldiers, armed with faith and steel, will assault the bastions of ignorance and repression used by the King and his dogs to keep our noses in the dirt - the Bastille, in the dead of night - midnight. It will be a historic day. Join us, revolutionaries, and we will destroy the symbol of oppression and tyranny that has plagued this land for so long!
Death to the King! Long live the People!
@The Nexerus
The Cajun Queen would continue drifting down the lurching, hazy waters of the Mississippi River - cutting it's way across a century-old river as the wafting scent of the Cajun food of Orleans began to edge past - emanating from the vegetative-covered sides of the river. The river's banks were adorned by old, wooden cabins, dampened by the thick, rough waves that commonly beat at the sides of the houses. The scent of seafood was strong around that little river settlement - the scent of Gumbo, Jambalaya, and Mirelurk Delight - a fresh new side of the wasteland and a far cry from the rust cut flanks of irradiated and mutated beasts lurking around the less-than-savory parts of the wastes. As the boat passed by, broadcasting tunes from Radio Fantasy - several ragged townspeople came out of their abodes to wave at the passerby, some holding steaming bowls of fresh food, others aiming guns at the newcomers, feeling standoffish and aloof.
The settlement of "Riversides" was a small, towny settlement - it had refused countless demands by The Order to be assimilated into the growing monarchy - they were fully aware that if they did, they would be quickly evicted, their town destroyed, and sent as refugees to be scattered across districts. No, they enjoyed a simpler life, their river houses perched on the wet sides of the river, where they cooked thick bowls of stew and defended the town from raider assaults and wildlife attacks. The settlement was in a good place where it stood, located between Proulx and Fontaine. The Cajun Queen would continue on past the waters while still playing an old blues number, and the settlement of Riverside was quickly passed by. As the armored ship continued forth, the crew would begin to notice a certifiable change in atmosphere - the trees on the banks grew thicker, vines hung from the ends, and the vegetation took a sharp upturn in terms of quantity.
As it got deeper and deeper into the territory, all seemed to genuinely quiet down - the waters of the river no longer beat on the ship, the murmurs of the irradiated land animals far away. This place was old. Upon closer inspection - beyond the heavy thicket of vines coating the entire river, one could view the remains of a concrete building that had been seared by nuclear fire two hundred years ago. If they looked closely, they would notice a Nuka Cola machine lying on the banks, a noticeable rusted chunk bitten out of it and the Nuka Cola contents within it long size been emptied out into the river. The place was, without a doubt, a member of the "Outer Regions," the land that The Order had claimed as unrenewable and long-since been reclaimed by the earth and radiation. It was no doubt - even now, every breath was just the smallest contanimation of radiation - and the water was, without a doubt, mortal after a few seconds of soaking in it. It was the closest place you'd get to the Glowing Bog, but without instantly killing you the moment you rode in.
Up ahead, lying on the banks of the river and coated in moss and vegetation, were several Boglurks, lazily laying about, their eyes coated in a yellow film as they rested - most likely after devouring the nearest raider ship that had entered their territory. They eyed the Cajun Queen as she began to pass by, their greedy, gluttonous stomachs rumbling at the thought.
