War... War never changes...

In the years following the second world war, America had emerged as an economic and military superpower. It ended the war with the unleashing the power of the atomic bomb. This terrifying power combined with an almost completely unarmed industrial base made America seem invincible. However, its unilateral possession of the fruits of atomic age did not last long. A brief four years later, the other emerging Superpower, Russia obtained the same terrifying might. For the first time, Humanity had the combined ability not just to end other people, but ALL other peoples. The fear of each superpower wiping each other out overnight caused the world to descend into a Cold war. The World drew lines and waited for the end.

But, the end did not come as soon as expected. Unparalleled prosperity in America and else where brought about unimaginable wonders of science fiction to reality. However, by the mid 21st century, this unfailing prosperity proved hollow. Resources began to run out. The resource wars began. Power armor replaced once mighty tanks. Laser and plasma weaponry powered by portable nuclear power cells replaced the use of steel bullets. All the countries of the world moved towards their inevitable end. China seized Alaska only to have it taken back as America awoken for one last moment of glory. The Chinese sailed back to their homeland, but they did not accept their defeat.

What happened next was a two hour conflict that has been called by its survivors the "Great war". Yes, survivors for there were no victors. The world erupted in an exchange of nuclear fire. The Old world died and for a time, the world fell into the silence of Nuclear winter.

But the end of one world, was not the end of everything like most feared. Surviving in great underground Vaults, humans emerged back into the surface world to find it totally alien in nature.

-----

Florida was spared a lot of the damage from direct nuclear strikes do to a relatively lack of strategic resources. Most of the bombs that hit Florida were targeting major population centers. This left Florida mostly intact. The following Nuclear winter killed more animals and wildlife than the bombs. For almost 180 years, Florida was a barren wasteland barely able to grow enough food. Locals had to survive on the remains of the old world and the ever abundant sea life. That was until a G.E.C.K. was discovered by those who had no idea what they had. Once activated, the GECK began to restore the once green Everglades to their former glory. However, it never stopped. What emerged was a twisted, warped, and savage jungle. The locals, once having to deal with the dangers of the new world, now had do deal with the terrors of the Old world's primal nature.

At the Junction of the once great I-10 and I-75, a small trading outpost had sprung up in the years following the great war. Refugees from the Vaults lowly evolved this small outpost into possibly the largest settlement in Northern Florida. It name New Hope truly lives up to its ideal of having a new hope in the wastelands. The settlement has seen its share of trouble from everything the wastles. Part makeshift walls and reused Steel wealded into place make up the walls of New Hope. To the North, its walls were a modest 10 feet high, but to the south the walls stretched upwards of 35 feet. This town excepted all comers, ghouls, friendly supermutants, humans, as long as they did not take hostile actions within the walls. A well armed Volunteer militia and a robot defense force ensure a safe society. This is the town that our story begins.

In the town of New Hope, there was pub called Pandora's Tears. It accepted all comers as long as they were civil. The Sentry bot bouncer outside the Saloon told any travelers it mean its "Be Civil" policy. The two Assaultron Bartenders were also secondary protections. A local band of musicians played the songs of the Old World as the crowd slowly gathered for the night's usual festivities. The human bartender, Rusty, was always present to give a more homely touch to the establishment.

An old man and an irradiated dog enter Pandora's Tears, almost kicking the door open, an alive glowing one on the old man's shoulder attempts to thrash out in a violent rage, a muzzle stopping it from biting while a strait jacket and ankle restraints keep it from moving and tearing anything apart. "Get a strong scotch ready and the location of something dangerous out there on a map." the old man happily orders before dropping the ghoul, smiling slightly with the satisfying thud the imprisoned creature creates.

After attaching a leash to a collar the old man drags the annoyed ghoul to the bar where the man sits on a nearby stool and the dog starts resting beside the stool. "Don't mind the bait, have it in line for my welcoming hunt." The old man states heartily to Rusty after looping the leash around another stool, the feral thing straining to no avail, attempting to lash out at the floor.

The sky, like the rest of the wasteland, was bleak and haunting. As it approached night, the sight of a settlement came into view through the dense foliage. The lights shining through the trees acted like a beacon of hope to those in need of refuge and a target to those who would try to steal. Upon approaching the walls, he was stopped and asked his name, shifting in the cloak that covered his armor he gave some fake alias he had used a few times before and walked into the city.

After a few minutes of searching around, the main attraction of the town was spotted. A tavern by all appearances, the most important feature of almost every sane community in the wasteland. Walking toward the establishment, he began to hear the sounds of whiskey courage and cheap beer sobbing that was common to these places. The door was large but not so large that he fit through easily wearing the heavy cloak over his armor. Ignoring the angry glowing one and the obnoxious man at the counter, he stepped up and waited for a bartender. After a few moments an assaultron came over and asked what he wanted, he ordered a bottle of whiskey and paid. Walking to a dark corner in the far end of the bar, he stood leaned up against the wall waiting to see what the night held in store.

Inside Pandora's Tears, amongst the more normal patrons, sat a large figure in a darkened corner of the room. He took up two seats with his girth, wore no shirt, and drank from a small barrel of wine, which he had purchased with the last of his caps. A backpack large as you average man sat on the floor next to this figure, while a highly advanced rocket launcher with paint of the Old World American flag hung from his shoulder by a strap. A large bone, a femur from a brahmin, sat strapped to the side of the enormous backpack. Most averted their eyes from this hulking brute of a man (though he would take great offense to being called a brute). To those that looked upon him, keeping to himself, they would see a super mutant. One of the oldest super mutants still alive.

Joshua's attention was grabbed as an old man entered the bar, dragging with him a feral ghoul kept restrained. The mutant raised an eyebrow at this scene which had completely absorbed his focus, so much so that he failed to notice anyone else enter the tavern. Joshua listened intently as he referred to the glowing feral ghoul as "bait" and he let out a deep sigh. Standing upright, rocket launcher over his right shoulder and barrel of wine in his left hand, he approached the old man and his dog.

"Pardon me sir," he began speaking, his deep voice carrying more than he would have liked, but could not help. "But I have to point out the various moral trappings of what you intend to do with your captive. For one, this ghoul is a glowing one. Keeping it with you means that you are absorbing radiation, and bringing it here is a danger to all our fellow patrons. Second, this was once a person, so I think it deserves that respect. Rather than use it as bait for the native wildlife, I believe you should end its misery. Let it join with whatever afterlife it believed in before losing its mind."

He took a large swing of his wine, drops of red running down his chin and dripping to the floor. Then the mutant wiped his face with his arm, before looking right at the glowing ghoul. "I am sorry for you."

"I ain't planning on letting the thing live to be bait, and I came here to hire someone who can deal with the radiation and help me hunt... I guess you will have to do if you'll accept a large portion of the harvest from the hunt... Even let you put the poor thing out of it's misery whenever you want! You know I was damned lucky with this feral, found it and a few others about to attack this charming place, perfect opportunity really because the best game love a good ghoul!" The old man enthusiastically responds, beginning to pet his trusty old compatriot.

"Fancy working for the Commonwealth Carver? It'd put that... Red Glare I think to good use. Never tell with missile launchers. Same offer's up for all by the by! Anyone who fancies helping an old codger take down some big mean abomination gets a free meal made from our bounty and anything else you find along the way is a bonus! I'll sort me own scotch problem as well!" The Carver offers jauntily, beginning to drink from a full bottle he takes from one of his pockets.

Gross, was the only thought passing through Patches' mind as he approached what he assumed was a settlement. He hadn't rested in ages since he started booking it to Florida as soon as he could when he heard of the prospect of treasure. His feet ached, the blood of mole rats caked to his skin and boots, the stench of a wild mirelurk still lingered from his run-in with one a few hours ago, and mud had made its way into places he didn't even knew existed. More than anything, right now, he needed to rest.

Climbing the small hill he came to, he could see large walls surrounded a small town. The lights giving off a 'Paradise' feel to it, seeing several guards and people walking around, while he looked on with curiosity. He opened up his small journal and wrote in his arrival to the settlement, estimating the time, only to turn to one of the map pages he had to try and add its location as best he could. After, he uncapped his canteen to drink the last of his water while he stumbled down the hill towards the front gate. Patches hoped they'd let him in, even if he looked like a total loon that wandered through a swamp (despite having done so recently).

He greeted one of the guards with a small smile, standing awkwardly for admission. Honestly, he wasn't sure if there was a test for him to take to prove he wasn't a psycho or if there was a buy-in or...whatever other way to get in there was. He just knew that he needed to rest or he'd die out here. Eventually he decided to just wander past the guard, who eyed him with a raised brow, towards the center of town. Hopefully someone could point him in the direction of a place to stay or somewhere to get a bite to eat; he needed to conserve what he had for the journey.

Although, when he entered, he saw a strange sight. An old man wandering towards a building labeled "Pandora's Tears" accompanied by a large dog, most likely a savage beast tamed, and...a ghoul.

Is this dude off his rocker? Patches thought as the old man burst through the door into the, what Patches assumed to be, bar. Everyone was heading indoors so perhaps the bar was the best place to find a suitable resting location. He aimed to follow into the bar, maybe the guy knew of a place where he could look for treasure, after the person wearing a heavy cloak over himself. Patches was greeted by a large Sentry Bot immediately that buzzed out a monotone message.

"Welcome to Pandora's Tears. Be Civil or Be Terminated." The bot droned out.

...sounds fair. Patches thought as he nodded to the bot, walking into the busy bar to see the old man and his dog sitting at a stool.

"Don't mind the bait, have it in line for my welcoming hunt." His old voice carried across the bar.

Yup, he's out of his mind. Patches thought as a large man came over to the hunter, speaking of respect for the ghoul and to put it out of his misery. Patches immediately thought that this place was home to any walk of life, full of people from far lands...some more crazed than others. The old man called out an offer to join him on the hunt he planned on going on, to which Patches' face tightened a bit. He could use protection to look for anything of value, but he wasn't sure he wanted to join an old dude who captured glowing ghouls with a dog. He'd have to wait. Right now, he needed to rest his feet.

Patches plopped down on a stool at the bar, asking the Assaultron for a small glass of whiskey and another glass of water. He promptly slid the amount of caps needed, ten, on the bar as he sipped on his drink and rested his feet. Keeping an eye on the old man, the hulking mutant, and any other people of interest. If he could find a local, maybe they could inform him of a place to sleep.

A muggy Florida breeze invited itself through the open window of Steeple's rented room, the rag that made up the only barrier between the outside and the inside flapping and waving gently. From outside poured light and chatter and the many smells that New Hope had to offer, vendors hawking their wares and whatever food they had on offer. Steeple lay in bed, awake and with one arm stretched out, dangling over the bed and the other wrapped around the sleeping ghoul whore that slept half on him. The only one that would give him service (and the only one he'd ask for) but a nice enough girl, had he not been the restless type he would have probably whisked her away and settled down with her.

But he was the restless type.

Talking his arm off of her, the Ghoul Whore stirred in her sleep but remained relatively undisturbed otherwise. Slipping out of her arms, he went straight for his gear and dawned his clothes silently, looking over his shoulder every once in a while to check if the woman was still asleep. Fully geared, Head's Bane tucked into the back of his tattered jumpsuit and hidden under his shirt, he reached for the door. Only to be stopped by a dry, grating voice.

"Steeple?" He turned around, to see her sat up in the bed, the blanket wrapped around her slender, necrotic frame. She looked at him through the hair that still miraculously still clang to her head. That was one of the reasons he liked her, she still had most of her hair. "Where are you going, it's late?" Looking out of the window it appeared though she was right, the moon was high in the sky and stars twinkled against the evening. He looked at her and shrugged his rucksack off of his shoulders, dropping it by the door without regard of the Frag mines sat inside. Steeple crossed the room quickly, floorboards squeaking beneath his feet.

"I'm just heading downstairs." He rasped, though no where near as sever as the other ghoul, taking one of her mottled hands, "If I go anywhere I'll tell you, Kay?" She nodded and returned to bed, turning away from him. Steeple returned to his rucksack, picking it up and dropping it over his shoulder.

"Steeple?" He looked over his shoulder, "I love you.." She was sat up again, big watery blue eyes glistening at him, he couldn't bare looking into them.

"I want to say the same, I really do."

Opening the door and shutting it behind him, he was suddenly accosted by the tavern atmosphere, the smell of food and drink and the sound of laughter and music wafting upstairs to where other clients enjoyed the company of the establishment's escorts. Taking the steps down, he was suddenly accosted by the rapid increase in sensory bombardment, it didn't help that he could hear everything loud and clear. Not bothering to stick around, he stepped outside into the warm Florida night, the pale skin that clung to the right side of his body bright in the white floodlights. Leaning against the front of the building, he produced a carton of dirty water from his bag and indulged.

A tall man in his 60s entered the town of New Hope with a large bag on his back and a dull look on his face. John had simply been looking for a shelter for the night, and instantly took notice of the ghouls, super mutants and robots around him.

Oh, it's that kind of settlement.

Well, it was either this or the wilderness, so the man wouldn't complain. He made his way to the building that most resembled a bar and before going inside, took one more look at the area around him. The security here appeared to consist of poorly equipped volunteers and a single sentry bot - Geez, it's a miracle this place even exists with all those raiders and shit lurking around.

"So, does anyone here need medical attention or can I just get drunk?"

The tavern, Pandora's tears grew lively the more the sun set. It was a joyful atmosphere that saw to it that no one person was excluded from equal treatment. Suddenly yet smoothly a brown haired woman entered the establishment a eyebot floated gently behind her. If she was not noteworthy then the eyebot definitely was. She approached the old bartender, Rusty, and after a brief warm reception, the woman moved to the stage where the ragtag wasteland band played.

The band stopped and she got on stage. That eyebot always floating over her right shoulder. She spoke with authority addressing the entire tavern, "Attention everyone! You may know me, you may not. I have been a regular in New Hope for the past year and a half. I need volunteers for an expedition south into the jungle wastes..."

"Your last two expeditions ended in failure." a ghoul interrupted.

The woman glared at the ghoul, "the first time I was not in charge. The second time we were ill equipped. This time I, Victoria Rose, swear it will be better. I have a plan to ensure our survival down south. I have located a defensible position down a ways that would be perfect base. I just need volunteers to help me take it and fortify it."

"Oi lady! No charlatan interrupts me when I'm recruiting people to help me tackle the meanest abomination this town knows of. I want to help these people reclaim their land and use this fine establishment to hold a feast in mine and my hired help's honour in saving these people from said abomination, sign up with me or just save me time and effort by gunning yourself down and give Ol'Com that eyebot as a chew toy before it starts blurting out adverts for abraxo... That'll save us all from going insane really, not just me. Offer's still up to join me and get a sizeable slab of the meat from the hunt for anyone willing." The carver retorts to Victoria Rose's proposition, countering it with his own in a frustrated and impatient way, seeing competition.

After putting the cap back on the scotch and putting it away the old man starts to examine a bullet he has on him in an almost apathetic expression of patience for anyone to volunteer, plotting where else to go if they all turn their metaphorical and possibly existing noses up to the deal.

Carver glanced up, moving his dark hair out of his vision as the sun began to set, the heat of the day slowly waning. At the end of the street, the Tavern seemed bustling and lively from what he could tell. Behind him, Chek stood a head taller than him, decked out in iron banded armor, holding his two barrel at the ready. Carver'd gotten used to it. He shrugged to his companion, and headed into the Tavern. He wasn't as imposing as his friend, preferring to talk his way through situation more than shoot, if he could help it. Still, he had his rifle hung across his back as a clear warning. His .44 magnum was...less visible in his jacket.

He seemed to have arrived just in time as he heard the brown haired woman announce that it was her that called them all here for an expedition. His earth brown eyes gazed around the room at all the listeners. Humans, ghouls, a dog (aaww) and a Super Mutant that seemed less murderous than the ones he was used to. He'd definitely seen stranger things, he told himself. He headed towards a table, and ordered some clean water. His Ghoul companion asked for whatever their cheapest drink was. "I have located a defensible position down a ways that would be perfect base. I just need volunteers to help me take it and fortify it." the woman said.
"Well, that's what we're here for." Carver said aloud.

"Oi lady! No charlatan interrupts me when I'm recruiting people to help me tackle the meanest abomination this town knows of. I want to help these people reclaim their land and use this fine establishment to hold a feast in mine and my hired help's honour in saving these people from said abomination, sign up with me or just save me time and effort by gunning yourself down and give Ol'Com that eyebot as a chew toy before it starts blurting out adverts for abraxo... That'll save us all from going insane really, not just me. Offer's still up to join me and get a sizeable slab of the meat from the hunt for anyone willing." the old man bellowed. Check shrugged. "That seems promising too." he said to Carver.

Sam opened her eyes regretfully from the comfortable bed she had rented from the tavern much earlier this morning. Normally the expenditure of some of her precious caps would have gone against near everything that Sam believed in, but the trek from South Carolina to Florida had been difficult. She had traveled nearly 300 miles to get here at the crossroads of the I-10 and I-75, sneaking past raiders, bands of feral ghouls, and even in one particularly terrifying encounter a deathclaw. Her boots had become worn down to the point she could feel every piece of the uneven landscape beneath her feet. So when she had finally entered the settlement of New Hope the first thing she did was scarf down some food at the bar of Pandora's Tears and buy a bed to immediately fall asleep in. She glanced out the window as she adjusted her clothing and the contents of her various pockets. It seemed that she had rested through the majority of the day as the sun was starting its descent back into night. Her muscles still ached with her forced march down, so she took a few long gulps of the purified water in her water-skin. It didn't matter too much to Sam what time it was now. She was finally here, her building excitement took the edge off of her complaining muscles, if there was any way to find out more about what had happened here in Florida, where the best scavenge was, and possibly even some word about where her parents may have gone, this would be the place to find it.

There seemed to be quite a crowd downstairs so she stretched her arms up until she felt several distinct pops along her spinal cord. She grabbed her back and went downstairs to the rest of the the tavern. As she headed down the stairs made of several piece of scrap collected over time the first thing she noticed was the glowing ghoul wrapped in chains around someones back. She stopped halfway down the staircase, turned around and went right back upstairs, then turned around once again to the same point. Eyes still wide with disbelief she pulled back one of her thick sleeves and pinched her arm. It seemed that she was not dreaming at all. Even stranger, she noticed a super mutant carrying a barrel of wine also standing by the radioactive creature and the crazy man holding it. Apparently things were done much differently here in what remained of Florida than she was used to.

She sat down at a table she hoped was far enough away from the creature to avoid absorbing some of the deadly radiation the creature was putting out and signaled the man at the counter to bring her a drink and food whenever he had a free moment. Sam was not particularly picky about what it was she given so long as it was edible. While she guzzled down her meal she examined some of the other patrons in the tavern. While it seemed clear that the mutant group was by far the loudest there were quite a few others. A man offering medical attention entered, Sam went over a mental checklist in her mind and decided than none of her various scrapes and bruises really warranted a doctor's fees. There was a a younger man in the bar as well, somewhere around her own age from the look of it. He had a similar bearing to her own and equipment that made her think that he might be a fellow scavenger looking to make his fortune in the wilds of Florida. As she watched the bar and cleaned her plate for that morsel of food and nutrition, a woman entered followed by an eyebot. While certainly a valuable piece of tech, the only other working one she had seen had been with the Enclave during their last shoot out. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, though the other woman portrayed no intent to harm anyone.

The woman shared a familiar nod with the barkeep and then took the stage offering to take them on expedition. Sam raised her eyebrows in mild surprise, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to delve deeper into Florida where she would have better opportunity to find untouched tech. In addition traveling with a larger group of people might be the safer option. Florida was not known for its safety after all. The crazed man carrying the radioactive ghoul started ranting about abominations and hunting, but Sam ignored him. She rose up from her chair and approached Victoria Rose.

"Name's Sam. If you need help with fortification and repair, I am can do that. What is in it for the volunteers though? This is obviously a high risk mission given its hostile location and previous failures so it would make sense that the reward would be high."

Joshua couldn't help but keep his eyebrow raised at the incredulous attitude the man before him displayed. He offered to hire the super mutant for some kind of hunt, and for it he could kill the glowing ghoul at any point of Joshua's choosing. The mutant mentally scoffed at the hunter. If he had intended to kill the ghoul, he'd have done so already and saved the trouble of hauling around a living, unwilling thing. Clearly this man, this "Carver" had absolutely zero respect for the ghoul. Even if it had been a mindless animal, Joshua would have found the man's attitude distasteful. Since this was once a person, with real thoughts, emotions, relationships... Well, Joshua found that "distasteful" was too soft of a word.

Before he could rebut, more occurred. Others entered the tavern, a few making their own spectacle of things. One was an elderly human who entered by asking if anybody needed medical attention, following with a statement that he intended to get drunk. Now Joshua was no doctor himself, but he felt that sort of behavior was somewhat unbecoming of a medical professional. Of course, he did ask if anybody needed help before, so at least there was that measure of responsibility. The next one to enter was a human woman, who garnered the attention of everyone in the room by declaring that she had a job, a dangerous one. A dangerous job that had already failed twice. In the jungle wastes. Joshua had heard that the jungle had come back to Florida. Apparently before the war Florida was thick with wetland and wildlife, but he hadn't heard much about it during his (considerably long) lifetime. Recently though, rumors had found their way to his ear that the Everglades were back. Such a thought fascinated him.

The old hunter heckled the woman, proclaiming that he had announced to be hiring for his job first. Joshua turned to him and said, "I accept your terms." He then unceremoniously stamped on the glowing ghoul's head, crushing its skull and putting the thing out of its misery. He then turned back to the old man and spoke in the most dry, deadpan tone he could muster. "I quit."

Without further fanfare, Joshua turned away from the old man, leaving behind a headless corpse in shackles and a mushy stain on the floor to be cleaned, and he approached Victoria Rose. Lumbering forward, he took another drink from his barrel of wine, wiped his chin, then hoisted his trusty Red Glare upon his shoulder. "My name is Joshua. Mercenary for hire. Most know me as the 'Megaton Mutant' on account of, well, I'm sure you can guess." His eyes quickly glanced over to his rocket launcher before he addressed Victoria again. "I haven't come across anything yet I couldn't blow up or put back together. Specialize in pre-war military technology. If the price, or the cause, is right, then consider me on board."

Patches felt like the oddball here. A crazed old man with a dog and a, now dead, ghoul, a Super Mutant probably hopped up on rockets juice, a drunk doctor, a woman with a floating eye robot and a dude in armor with a cloak on. At least the ghoul and the girl that came downstairs seemed normal enough. He saw the mutant squash the ghoul's head like a rotten tomato after the woman announced her third expedition.

Now, there was an exciting offer. Traveling with people, setting up a base, exploring places no one has been to...it was practically made for Patches. He'd had a few run ins with some good and bad super mutants, this one was one of the good ones; plus he had a rocket launcher. The girl seemed like himself, an explorer used to traveling the wastes. Not a terribly wild crowd, people he could count on. It was safe. There was no doubt in his mind that the Old Man wasn't going to join, he seemed headstrong on hunting something. So at least Patches could be away from the crazy. He wondered if the doctor would join, it'd be nice to learn and discuss medicine with someone again. Patches was feeling rusty, he'd only been a doctor on himself the past few weeks.

Figuring it was best to move forward quickly, he didn't know if there was a limit of people, he stood up with a raised hand. Sure, he might die, but he was out here risking his life to see his family back home. Without them, he might as well be dead.

"Uh...y-yeah count me in as well." He spoke, scratching the back of his neck as he flashed a small smile to the woman. He figured there'd be some sort of group meeting after this, then he'd introduce himself to everyone. A thought slammed his brain like a rock...

"Name's Sam. If you need help with fortification and repair, I am can do that. What is in it for the volunteers though? This is obviously a high risk mission given its hostile location and previous failures so it would make sense that the reward would be high."

Oh, well never mind. Guess she had the same thought. Patches listened intently to the woman's response. If she said nothing, then he'd still go. But it'd be nice to have a few caps for the endeavor, something concrete; since he couldn't count on finding treasure like he could a paycheck.

Victoria smiled that at least a few patrons declared they would join her despite the mouthy ghoul over in the corner. She spread her arms out like she was embracing those who have accepted her. She boasts, "I promise one thousand caps to anyone who fights along side me. I also grant the rights to anyone who fights with me to use the base we liberate. Either as a home or base to continue scavenging southwards into deeper jungles."

The ghoul laughed, "Yeah right, like you have enough caps to pay everyone who joins you."

Victoria drops her hands and glares at the ghoul again, "I swear that I have the caps. Not on me, but i am good for the caps. Rusty, am I good on my promises?"

The bartender Rusty laughs, "Yeah, you are good for that. If you are not, i will cover the rest."

Victoria points at the ghoul that has been heckling her, "Can i kill this one, Rusty?"

"Not in my establishment, girl. I like you. I like you a lot but i cannot betray my patrons. Outside my establishment, I have no authority." Rusty responded before tending to a patron at the bar.

Both the large super mutant in the bar as well as the male scavenger type joined Sam as she spoke to Victoria. The super mutant seemed to ignore her for the most part, which was a reaction from the intimidating figure that she could approve of, especially since he was carrying around a rocket launcher like it was nothing. The Scavenger type flashed the woman a quick smile and stammered his acceptance of her job. However, if Sam was to really get ahead in this game she would need to seize this opportunity quickly. She leveled a stern look at Victoria and shook her head, refusing her offer.

"Not enough to warrant the risk. It's 1200 for the this guy," She gestured over to scavenger who had joined up next to here, "and for myself as well. We were the first volunteers. She looked up at the super mutant pointedly and then back down to Victoria. "1300 caps for Joshua and his rocket launcher. The rest should get 1150. And of course, mission expenses all around. Ammo, rations, that sort of thing of course." By helping to negotiate for the group as a whole, it was possible that the others would return the favor later.

A steady stream of people flitted into the tavern and to most of them Steeple payed no mind, drinking his water absentmindedly as the proprietor didn't much like people bringing in their own beverages. However soon the people that meandered through the doors began to become more interesting, Old men with their pets, dogs and ghouls, a super mutant, a man with a particularly swish set of armor and finally, a rather red headed woman with an eyebot bobbing around behind her. As she entered, Steeple's gaze and then his head turned to follow her, She was a particularly nice bird, though Steeple knew that there was no one for him other than the woman sleeping above his head.

Down the last of the radioactive water, he tossed the carton aside and rejoined the rabble inside the establishment, and just in time for the shouting. The particular red head that had caught his interest was now on stage, 'Oh goody.' Steeple thought to himself, 'Another Canary.' crossing the room to return upstairs he stopped in his tracks, the canary started to tweet but it wasn't singing. Turning his attention to her fully, there was much back and forth between her and the crowd. At first he thought no one would take her up on her offer, from what a particularity rotting ghoul was saying she wasn't having much luck with her endeavours as of late. Though as people gathered around her, including the mutant, it seemed more and more likely that this time she would succeed.

Steeple approached the group, the various bits in his rucksack jingling against each other.

"Hey Canary, I'll take you up on your offer," he called over the heads of the people around her, "The original offer." The way Steeple saw it, people were willing to take the job and he wasn't confused as to why, she was offering a lot caps. So he had to ensure his place on this little venture, the hundred extra caps were not a significant loss compared to the thousand he would make, he didn't have much need for food and the only kind of ammo he bought was dirt cheap.

"A thousand sounds just dandy."

"Well isn't that an annoyance... lady I will sign on permanently if we get to hunt something big down. Preferably something that I can make a feast out of, because it sounds like you need a sniper, a hunter and a trap layer if you have any hope of securing a location foreseeable future. Original amount for me when we first take it, then three hundred for the traps I might be wasting then you buy every round of ammunition for me, I will sort out my own food and drink. If you want to know this I am Elias Lewellyn Powell, or The Commonwealth Carver or The Capital Hunter. I honestly prefer Lewellyn but the nicknames carry more weight." Lewellyn concedes, realising he'd make a profit from the woman then with just hunting some local menace for a nearly helpless village.

"Barkeep, for the mess the abomination caused. I'd kill the brute for you but I at least respect people's livelihoods and workplaces, something they could never do." Lewellyn apologises, placing a full bottle of scotch on the bar and picking up the body of the thin ghoul. "You're not smart, you didn't think about these people, about that man there. Any smart or wise man can respect someone's struggles, ghouls especially. You are just the next mutant in the chain, identically uncaring and brutal. Some sick organisation must have mass produced you, identical to the last murderous thing." Lewellyn accuses with a hint of rage in his voice, trying to clear up what's left on the floor to the best of his ability.

*Ten miles ago*
~Mile marker 854, repeat transmission. "Mr. Gutsy 5186 to Red Witch, come in... No reply.~
*Ten miles later*
~Mile marker 864, repeat transmission. "Mr. Gutsy 5186 to Red Witch, come in... No reply.~
*Ten miles later*
~Mile marker 874, repeat transmission. "Mr. Gutsy 5186 to Red Witch, come in... Ping response. Searching...Settlement found, recalculating course for New Hope. Ping reply adjustment for every mile.~
~Mile marker 875, repeat transmission. "Mr. Gutsy 5186 to Red Witch, come in...Mile marker 876, repeat transmission. "Mr. Gutsy 5186 to Red Witch, come in...~
For the next few hours he was pinging every 20 minutes or so to 'Red Witch' until he was within the mile marker of the city. He floated himself to the center of New hope and rested his thruster as he calmly pinged for a response. He was so glad he replaced his flamer-fuel-only thruster for a fusion-thruster-alternator ages ago, it was so much easier to find Fusion cells from old cars than to find "Mr Handy" fuel laying around. But now he could rest and repeat until a response.
~"Mr. Gutsy 5186 to Red Witch, come in...Radio silence is a death sentence."~

The dusty nighttime air swirling around the bar left an unpleasantly gritty residue on the filters of his armor as he listened to the ebb and flow of the patrons. As the night pressed on, several conversations transpired and many people entered. Through it all, one voice rang out clear and plain, a woman asking for assistance on an expedition. Several people volunteered as he contemplated joining the expedition. Ignoring the loud hunter and most everyone in the bar as a whole, he emerged from the corner of the room and strode to the crowd, the commanding sound of the footfalls drew some attention and cleared a small path through the little crowd. As he passed through the crowd, he gripped the cloak, which had kept his identity fairly well concealed out here in hostile territory, and lifted it off and dropped it to the floor revealing his black and red striped power armor with the sigil of the Brotherhood of Steel emblazoned on the chest. Removing his helmet and placing it under his arm, he spoke.

"I am Paladin Lord Ezekiel Crane of the Brotherhood of Steel. You may call me Omen. I will join you on this expedition. You shall have my blade."

Shifting the massive blade on his back and the laser rifle in a holster also on his back he stood waiting for someone to start shooting.