Most Serene Key Republic- Bartholomew Hemingway/Alexander Suttbray


As Bartholomew glanced around the large dining hall, he remained very impressed by its decor and pre-war charm. This was different entirely from the beachfront wood and marble manses of Key patricians that he was used to, and he welcomed the alien feel of it all. Moments earlier, a waiter had come to take their drink orders, and while Bartholomew was happy to indulge himself in a gin and tonic after such a long flight, Alexander declined the offer entirely. Such an insufferable man, lacking entirely in manners and decorum. Even if Alexander had showered them in gifts, Bartholomew still failed to see how the Senate’s Convention Committee had deemed it a good idea to send the eccentric head of House Suttbray to a meeting of this import.

In an effort to distract himself from the question he had been asking himself constantly for the last few days, Bartholomew turned his gaze away and produced his pipe, a beauty of dark Yucatan wood and Deathclaw horn purchased from a big game hunter in southern Mississippi. Lightly packing it with fine tobacco from plantations out north, Bartholomew wondered at the position they were in. From sea to sea, delegates were pouring into this desert paradise to discuss matters of international importance and peace. Twenty years ago, such a thing would be completely unheard of, but war had always acted as the best motivation for change and progress in the world.

Bartholomew’s admiration of the state of today’s world was cut abruptly short, however, when a frail, pure young woman barely out of adolescence made her way towards him, clad in a dark dress and followed by a hulking man stuck to her like a twisted shadow. Bartholomew exhaled a small cloud of tobacco smoke, having suddenly acquired a sour taste in his mouth. His Serenity had set some very clear goals in their dealings with this depraved cult, but that didn’t mean Bartholomew had to like it. He wasn’t sure how much of the news he received back in Key West was true and how much was myth, but he was sure that all of it was distasteful.

Meanwhile, Alexander stared at the woman and her escort with something that could only be described as longing. He had never met her in person, yet he knew her by her aura, her movements, the sly twist at the corner of her mouth- it was glorious. She was like a beacon of warm, comforting blackness in this city of neon, so pure yet so perfectly shattered. Alexander had gazed at the stars independently of young Marie and her ‘father’, but they both knew the same truth, and that held a beauty of its own.

The woman and her escort came and slid a delicate hand into Bartholomew’s grasp who, despite his disdain for the occult, shook it with a practiced grace. “And greetings to you both, I pray your trip treated you well. We’re such a long way from your… abode in Pittsburgh.”

The small, snow white figure then slid past, towards the tall and lanky form of Alexander. He accepted her hand and brought it to his lips for a brief and polite kiss just behind her knuckles. He then widened his smile and spoke in his cultured Southern drawl. “And upon you, fairest Marie. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

He remained standing as she took her seat near him, waiting for her to sit before returning to his own chair at the table. Ug-Qualtoth smiles upon you, he wondered how much of that was formality and how much went beyond just that. Before Alexander could divulge himself in small talk anymore, Bartholomew interjected.

“Ms. Ashur, it certainly is a joy to see you here. If you wouldn’t mind, His Serenity has interest in formalizing relations between your… enlightened people and the greatness of the Most Serene Key Republic. Perhaps we could…” Bartholomew was cut off abruptly by a sudden robotic bleating.

The delegate for New Vegas gave a rather curt introduction to the group assembled before him, cutting short any niceties that had preceded it. He spoke as if those assembled before him were likely to cause a ruckus- something Bartholomew thought was quite unlikely, given all of their stations and their role here. No matter, Bartholomew honored the rather rude request and silenced himself, giving a polite nod to the unsettling youth he had been speaking to by way of apology. He took another puff off of his pipe, awaiting the actual beginning of the meeting.

"The King" - New Vegas

The King waited for the arbitrary mumbling in the room to cease. Just as he was about to speak again, the sparse chatter in the room picked back up. It was no longer fixed on him; the table's eyes shot behind The King, where he spotted a group of newcomers his vision couldn't even begin to make sense of. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Huh. All right. He cleared his throat and continued anyway.

"With formalities out of the way, I would like to open the floor to any urgent discussion our honored guests might have, before I speak on the behalf of Robert House." He arbitrarily gazed at each member currently at the table. "Are there any important matters that anyone wishes to bring to the forefront before we move forward?" The King was desperately looking for some member of the group to help the convention take off, so that he could throw away the damned prepared condescending remarks that House had lined up for him. The King was at his best when he could improvise.

The King knew well why the boss had drilled him on exactly what to say and not to say. The reality of the matter was that House was pinned in the middle of a very uncomfortable situation. The King (and every reasonably-intelligent person who worked for Robert) knew this very well. This entire meeting had been mapped out and carefully calculated by the mysterious president of the FZM, but in reality, even the slightest variation would ruin the script. This was bound to happen. The King wanted it to happen. The summit had thrown arithmetic out the window as soon as several fanatic cults and strange tribesmen had started to enter the room. This was a factor House had not properly analyzed.

Still, there were factors that could easily be deduced. The King could tell already that the Legion held a calmer poise at the table than he had been led to believe they possessed. It didn't take a scientific genius like Robert House to predict that the NCR would make a heap of noise. If these 'big-picture' groups dominated the direction of the meeting, The King would find use in House's cards.

"Soft sons-of-bitches!"

Dosh-Novan crossed his massive arms, as his eyes slowly wandered from one Representative of the Keys, to the Next. And while some of them seemed to have understood the message of the Blind prophet, some still dabbled in their disbelieve, clinging to caps and luxuries. Yet the trade with them was important, and in the wars to come, a warrior had to endure peace with those he could not slaughter on the spot, for even a swarm of rats could overwhelm a deathclaw! He was a man of war, a son of battle, reforged from the Brother of steel he once was, yet most of all, he was loyal to the Prophet, and would follow his commands.

"How could we not have a safe arrival, after all, we travel under the watchful eye of Ug-Qualtoth himself.."

The Pure one responded with her calm, soft voice, as her eyes focused for a moment on Bartholomew Hemingway. Two orbs of amber, glaring like an abyss at him, endless and frightening. Even the Warleader found himself hard pressed to met her glare for longer then a few seconds. Too much it reminded him of the bloody white of the blind Prophet himself. A sight, that could even break the most strongest of wills. The warleader would turn his eyes away from the discussion in front of him, as another delegation arrived, and he recognized something that highly amused him.

Dosh-Novan hands twitched as he stared unmovingly at the new arrivals. Crossing his broad arms, he couldnt help but form the smile of a hungry wolf, spotting a weaked Brahmin. Cromwell, head of a Church of beggars and rabble of scum, together with the closest thing they had to a real warrior, Grand Zealot Richter. To push the Loyalists of Dunwich away from Megaton and the Capital Wasteland, with nothing more then the disorganized scum that was the Church of Atom was indeed a task that needed a capable man, and as such, Dosh-Novan couldnt help but have some form of grim Respect for the Grand Zealot. He would be a worthy kill, and his head would bring him a lot prestige among the Warleaders, maybe even from the Warmaster himself!

It were the ones that arrived next, that the Warleader had expected the most of the see. His smile died for a second, as a grim look replaced it. Narrowing his eyes, he felt a twitching in his hand. His brothers from the Mid-West Chapter had arrived! Seeing the attempt of hiding the reaction on their face, Dosh-Novan raised his hand, before he formed a mocking Salute on his chest. It was the Salute a Knight would give an Elder of the Brotherhood, by placing his fist straight above his heart, yet the Warleader made sure that his hand moved onto the other side, his hand twitching like a beating heart! If they would have heard the stories of the Survivors of Cleveland, they would know the meaning of this Insult.

Still staring at the Representatives of the Mid-West Chapter, Dosh-Novan couldnt help but chuckle over the little speech of the NCR-President, greeting the Enclave with an spite, that even left the Pure One raise her eyes for a moment, before hiding her mouth for a short giggle. In his second life, as the Knight Dogmar Novella, he had fought and bled against the Enclave in DC, yet now their struggle against them seemed so insignificant, so meaningless compared to what Ug-Qualtoth offered. They could hid and rot, wherever they wanted, they wouldnt stop the flock of the Blind Prophet!

"Alexander Suttbray, your fervor and piety has already reached the ear of my beloved father, the Prophet himself! It fills his heart with great joy to have Friends like you, Mr. Suttbray....and the Most Serene Key Republic!"

Marie eyes had closed for a second, as a fly crossed her field of view for a second. Uncaring, she waved it away with her finger, before the robotic voice cut off Bartholomew. Once more the Fly flew past her face, before sitting down on her hand. An annoyed sigh left her lips. The Warleader could feel that something was off, and as he looked down, he could see how her little finger began to twitch.

More and more delegations arrived, which were all shortly watched by the Warleader. Then he noticed someone who met his glare, and even returned it. From the look of it, he was a Mercenary, the most despicable form of Warrior, in his eyes, yet Ug-Qualtoth valued all form of slaughter. Slowly, the Warleaders eyes twiched, as he felt the anger in his chest grew. It had been a long time, since anyone had dared to return his glare in such a away, and even if this was a diplomatic meeting, he would not take such an Insult lightly.

It was Marie who put an end to this Charade, by tugging on his coat. Looking down, he still could see the Fly, asking himself why the Pure One wasnt chasing it away.

"Keep your anger for another day, Warleader! It breaks my concentration!"

Once more, the young woman would turn towards Bartholomew, a smile on her lips, as the Fly suddenlty began to turn on its back, twiching and shivering. "I am quite sure that we could! My father allowed me to Negotiate for the Cult as a whole, and we both could profit from closer Trade agreements, couldnt we?" The Fly chest bulged out for a second, before it fell off the hand onto the plate. Waving one of the Waiters to her, she pointed at it, and soon would receive a new one.

Lucius- Caesar of The Legion

"Are there any important matters that anyone wishes to bring to the forefront before we move forward?"

The man known as 'The King' had given the first official word in this little meeting, and had opened the floor. Lucius didn't think the man looked much like a 'King', and he knew very well that Mr. House, not this man, ran New Vegas. The significance of his name, if it had one, was lost on Lucius.

When no other delegates spoke up, the Caesar of The Legion slowly rose to his feet, and set his finger tips lightly on the table in front of him. He spoke sternly, but calmly, and his tone indicated a deeper understanding of just what was about to happen. Perhaps the delegates of the West would understand, but those of the north, east, and south...they had no idea.

"If you've all had your wine and whiskey," He began, looking around him, "Then maybe we might discuss the fact that the Treaty of Goodsprings has reached its end. Mars alone knows exactly what that means, but I can take a fair guess. The treaty must either be renewed, or the Southwest will likely be awash with blood soon enough. And I can assure you, that whatever horrors the first war brought, the second will unleash even more."

High Elder Gladstone – Western Brotherhood

Entrant after entrant was announced, and Atticus watched them all with wary eyes.

Truly, the East seemed to have been seized by religious fanaticism. A blink, he pinched the brow of his nose and closed his eyes as a stab of pain flashed through his mind as his eyes eyed up the girl from the Cult. Opening his eyes after a few moments recollection, his attention moved to the man standing by the girls shoulder. The man seemed, oddly fixated on him. He did hope he hadn’t done anything to offend the man, he didn’t want to get off to a bad start here.

"His Excellency, Brother Martin, the Secretary-General of the Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel, and party."

His attention snapped to the entrance. So, the prodigal son returned. He watched as the “Secretary-General” shared a nod with the representative of the barbarians known as “Caesar’s Legion”, before having the gall to nod at him. He gave a slight, but noticeable, inclination of the head in acknowledgement, if only for the sake of politeness. It wouldn’t do to discount relations with the Midwest in this, the twilight hour of the Western Brotherhood’s existence.

Maxson’s bones, the man most have been turning in his tomb at the sight of what his Brotherhood had become. Run by a megalomaniac with delusions of god-hood in one chapter, near destroyed by fanatical religious tribal cultists in another chapter, and his own, fractured and splitting at the seams from the divisions within.

It was at this point, as he was about to fall into another one of his brooding fits, that the host, well, the speaker for the host, spoke up. Terms were laid out, no fighting and, oddly, no vulgarity. Did that mean no swearing? No drinking? No smoking? No matter, he certainly wouldn’t be resorting to any vulgarity, though the rest of the savages in the room might. As was their nature after all.

Once the announcement was over, another delegate entered. Turning to look with tired eyes, the High Elder paused in shock at the, unusual, attitudes the new entrants had concerning clothing and appearance. Clearing his throat, Atticus turned away as his sensibilities dictated, looking everywhere but, there. Turning his attention to the envoy for Mr. House, Atticus paused as silence reigned, before it was broken by the Legion Delegate.

"If you've all had your wine and whiskey-"

Atticus paused, before deciding to tuck into the food before him as the man spoke, listening as he did so to the Legion delegates words.

"-Then maybe we might discuss the fact that the Treaty of Goodsprings has reached its end. Mars alone knows exactly what that means, but I can take a fair guess. The treaty must either be renewed, or the Southwest will likely be awash with blood soon enough. And I can assure you, that whatever horrors the first war brought, the second will unleash even more."

Taking a sip of wine, the High Elder scanned the room. War, a second war greater than the last. The Western Brotherhood had sat on the sidelines for the last one. And now, with a whole continent present, this war would reach across the land. For some civilisations, this would be their end, but for the Western Brotherhood, this would be an opportunity. And so, allowing the rich flavour of the food and drink to douse his taste-buds.

Atticus Gladstone watched.

Atticus Gladstone listened.

Atticus Gladstone learned.

John Fulman- Arctic Haven commander
The Ultra-Luxe, New Vegas

John had been sitting at the table quietly smoking his cigar, subtly transmitting the audio of the meeting and listening quietly as he had no place in conversations, but his ears perked up at the guy, who was obviously Legion, commenting with "If you've all had your wine and whiskey, then maybe we might discuss the fact that the Treaty of Goodsprings has reached its end. Mars alone knows exactly what that means, but I can take a fair guess. The treaty must either be renewed, or the Southwest will likely be awash with blood soon enough. And I can assure you, that whatever horrors the first war brought, the second will unleash even more." John gave faint wry smile, the scar running diagonal across his lips giving an ugly parting before he quickly brought his face back to a serious stance before giving his sales pitch. He hadn't expected anyone else to have seen the NCR patch under his overcoat, so he played himself up as an outsider. He gave a cough as he cleared his throat before he spoke up. "Excuse me, Mr....Lucas? Correct me if I am mistaken, but as I am told, the cause of both major wars for the Hoover Dam were started by your Legion, is that not so? If it is this way as was relayed to me, it seems the only ones who need have concern are the participants facing you at this table."

He stood up, but didn't raise his voice nor leave from his spot at the table and simply continued. "This is like the days before The Bomb, both sides watching, waiting for the other to make the first move. Oh, I am certain some factions here will abide a new treaty, but I foresee a new political model rising with many factions waging proxy wars. Never daring to outright get their hands bloodied, but a fistful of caps from either side and suddenly there's two independent armies fighting a war they don't even know the objective of, they're just getting paid to fight a war. I've seen the looks some of you gave me, looking down on a merc as little more than bandits and pirates, but yet you're not moral enough to refuse to hire us. I've seen those looks from Magadan to Anchorage but they all never turned us down when they wanted blood shed. We're in an age of deterrence by the size of a nation's army and strength, but that won't stop a group of independent tribals conveniently decide to war on NCR or a mysterious mercenary crew comes out of the blue and Legion parties are found strung up on interstate signs. You 'nations' say you want peace, but you hire men like me to spill the blood cowardice and fear halt you from doing." He bent down and picked up his cigar from the tray and took a puff before continuing. "So get ready for the dawn of a new age, my fellow Wastelanders. A red age, not red for communism or red for lovely sunsets, but red....for blood. Men like me fighting your wars will become the future. I am not being a cynic, but I know how people who hold themselves to be nations and states behave and none of you are any different. When this conference is over, feel free to come find me and we can discuss contract fees." He took one last inhale before curtly nodding his head in a half-bow to the others before sitting back down. John sat, looking grim and serious, but internally, he was half pleased with the results of his speech, casting all sides as deceitful and war ready and thought to himself, 'Well, the seeds of mistrust are being planted. Let's see if this field will yield crop'.

Pontiff Cromwell- Ultra-Luxe

The man next to Cromwell addressed him. “welcome Pontiff Cromwell, My name is James Kimball president of the NCR... I must confess we know little of your church but am I correct in saying you are welcoming to ghouls and mutants? It is good to know that there is at least one of other nation that is not run by bigots and shows some compassion to our mutated comrades and Citizens.”

Pontiff Cromwell smiled. "The Church of Atom is open to all who are willing to bring Atom into their lives, even those whom He has altered. And even those who have not accepted Atom into their lives have proven themselves worthwhile allies, although it has not been without diffculty."

As much as Tektus dislikes the artificial man who helped Martin settle Atom's holy island, we owe much to him. A tragedy that Martin lost his way.

"Sadly, we have had little success in spreading the word of his light to the so-called Super Mutants. Despite being gifted with the strength to stand in Atom's Glow, most squander it on petty raiding, their minds embittered by the profane process of their creation and rife with pride in their own forms."

Not all Super Mutants were the same in this regard- those that lived in proximity to Megaton were infamous for dragging their victims off, and said to create more of their own with their victims. Those they had encountered to the north, by contrast, claimed to be made by humans- a fact that only seemed to fuel their hatred for mankind. And above all, it was a rare Super Mutant that did not immediately see Cromwell's flock as food.

"I will confess, however, that not all are like this," the Pontiff added. "One of my shepherds spoke of one such peaceful mutant living near one of Atom's sites, whom even more strangely, she claims has since turned back into a man."

President James Kimball- NCR

Speaking with Pontiff Cromwell James told the man what the NCR knew about the super mutant process “The process may be different on the east coast but from what I've told the transformation is quite painful, most people cannot withstand the pain and whilst it strengthens your body it actually deceases your mental abilities... however I'm happy to state most of the remaining super mutants have integrated peacefully into society.”

Whilst speaking to the Pontiff several other representatives arrived including one group of tribal’s wearing what appeared to be tape? James for the most part ignored them and continued his conversation with the pontiff until it was announced the enclave arrived... and James just had to say something to them...

Ah the enclave... You know what? How about you save us lives and time and just surrender now... seriously an fucking tribal kicked you ass and we flattened what was left.. you know we are gonna do it again or maybe the old guys Tins cans will if they can catch up to you with the crap they have for an air force" James chuckled

"You may have helped the legion at Hoover but I'm willing to make you a deal... if you surrender now and give up plans to "purge" the mutants, I'll have you become a "northern" state of the NCR. You will remain free, alive and allowed to continue the non-purging stuff you have going but you will follow our rules and work with us to make America great for everyone again....well almost everyone."

However it appeared the Enclave still foolishly though they ruled American with the supposed “Vice president stated “The might of the New California Republic tempered by a city of drunkards, and brainless machines. Do not speak to me again - James."

Weren’t you beaten by a robot out east?

Deciding it wasn’t worth annoying the “vice-president” anymore James turned back to face Cromwell "I will confess, however, that not all are like this," the Pontiff added. "One of my shepherds spoke of one such peaceful mutant living near one of Atom's sites, whom even more strangely, she claims has since turned back into a man."

"Turned back into man? Assuming that correct I'd be interesting in knowing what he did. Some of the Super mutants in the NCR may be interesting in turning back...and it could be a used as Non-lethal "solution" to the more aggressive mutants.

assuming it restores their mental abilities otherwise keep them as super mutants

"PLEASE BE SILENT." each securitron belted out simultaneously.

“Looks like the meeting is about to start, we can continue our talk later.” James replied before turning his attention to the “king”. With the three families turning out to be Back stabbing traitors, cannibals or led by an asshole it wasn’t surprising that the “king”, the man who'd once refused House offer had now become House’s right hand man... after the courier disappeared off course.

The King is a decent guy... should be okay to deal with.
The king began to state the “don’t do this” bah bah bah Rules and standard opening speech about working together which was stated at every large meeting. So instead of listening James used to the time to double check some things with Hopeway... it appeared the Arctic Haven guy was originally an NCR solider.

When the introducing announcement where over the legion where the first to speak, asking about the treaty of Goodspring. James looked down at his watch it was still abit to early for the broadcast but in a somewhat surprising move the Arctic have Merc stood up about how it wouldn’t be nations but mercs groups fighting the next war:

“Men like me fighting your wars will become the future. I am not being a cynic, but I know how people who hold themselves to be nations and states behave and none of you are any different. When this conference is over, feel free to come find me and we can discuss contract fees."

If the man knew what had happen roughly two hours ago...

Oh well it was good speech, might get him some business.

"Well that's a.... interesting little speech Mr Fulman.”James replied “Good way to advertise your company but unfortunately you have wrongly assessed the NCR or what I plan on doing as president but you probably correct about what Foxy plans or had planned to do." James chuckled

Adopting a more serious tone James continued "As the president of the NCR I have no intentions of playing some proxy cold war with the legion and would be more than happy to resign and agree to an updated treaty of Goodspring.... after a few... Border changes that is."

Counsellor Hopeway then passed out several copies of a small map with the new proposed border range, For the most part it was the same however North Oregon (which those who knew the area was an empty wasteland so James “claiming” it was seemlying just to make the NCR bigger on the map) and more importantly Arizona, which was part of the legion were now parts of the NCR with the new border line being what was once the Glia National forest

(Ooc: I'm gonna assume this offer will be rejected, well edit in someone's reply later on)

Lighting an NCR branded Cigar James chuckled “I figured that suggestion would rejected.... which is why I started the invasion of Arizona two hours ago.” James then casually turned to one of the white glove waiters “would it be possible to have a TV or radio brought in?”

After waiting a few cries of outrage (or support) James continued “As we speak the NCR 101st division storm troopers have broken though the legion lines, the 8th and 12th will follow them though and surround the legion forces as the 101th & 102th Marches on!

"Freeing and rally every slave they encounter they will turn an strike force into a small army...This time tomorrow that army will Marching on Phoenix!”

“Qui audet adipiscitur”

Lucius, Caesar of The Legion

Lucius stayed silent as the NCR President made his speech, and said nothing when the offer of giving up part of Arizona was put on the table. It was never a serious offer of peace, that much he knew. The NCR President had never had any intention of making peace or renewing the treaty. In all likely hood, his attendance here was nothing more than grandstanding. Predictably, the announcement then came that the NCR had begun their invasion already. Supposedly having already shattered his Legion, and evidently already planning victory marches. Lucius couldn't tell if the President was making an official announcement, or trying to film a propaganda piece for his people. Knowing the NCR: probably both.

He stayed silent for a few moments after President Kimball Jr. had finished his speech, before calming turning to the man who'd spoken directly after him, a polite smile on his face,

"You were saying?" Inwardly, and perhaps outwardly, he was pleased that he'd stuck to his intention. The Legion had in fact not fired the first shot.

He then turned to Kimball Jr., and scratched the side of his head slightly while giving a heavy sigh of annoyance,

"What Legion lines, President Kimball?" He asked in a tone of voice that sounded like he was speaking to a child, "I know you haven't broken the Legion's lines, because there's no such thing. By all means, march your armies into Arizona. See how far you get." Lucius spoke these last words with a coldness. A cold, calculating voice which could only come from a man who'd watched his own capital burn to the ground. A man who'd go to any lengths to defeat his enemy.

"But there's still a chance to turn away from this path, President Kimball," Lucius offered, "One last opportunity to save your soldiers lives, and those of your people. To spare them the experience of the utter horror of total war. Renew the treaty, keep the borders as they are. And my Legion will take no action against you. Otherwise continue down this path, and I will rain hell down on you. That is all I have to say."

Brother Joseph Hansen - The Ultra-Luxe Gourmand

Brother Joseph sat next to Martin and observed the assembled delegates around them. so far, things were going as expected...Lucius and the Van Graffs returned Martin's gesture, the Elder from the West was icily polite, but little else, and the bodyguard of the horrid teenager that the Cult had sent to represent them mocked them with a Brotherhood salute. While Joseph did not recognize him, he could well be a turncoat from the group that had followed Owyn Lyons East to old Washington, another failed bid by their Brethren to the West to find a technological means to deal with the NCR.

For that matter, the Midwestern Order was born of the first failure....though likely they neither expected or wanted him to succeed. The Western Elders now called the Lord-Paladin a traitor and a madman, but he had shown them the path to the Brotherhood's salvation, if they had only had possessed the wit and courage to walk it before it slipped out of their reach. Rather than hide from the world and try to blunt mankind's struggle to rise from the ashes "for their own protection", Barnacky planted his standard and called upon them to take up arms and join with him to fight for a future fit for themselves and their descendants. Needless to say, a comparison of Omaha and Electric City (in the end they had been forced out of their bunkers) made it plain who had been right.

One thing he hadn't expected, was the entrance of the "Vesyanian Confederation", from what he could immediately recall was a confederation of Tribes from Louisiana ruled over by the descendants of the dwellers of Vault 24. When their nubile and barely dressed delegate made her arrival known, at first he thought it was some sort of joke, but as her credentials were accepted by House's representative and she was seated, it was clear she was really here on their behalf.

Another was a pair of conversations that had been initiated by the NCR President, who seemed to be going out of his way to be obnoxious. His attempt to intimidate the Enclave...who had sent a representative, much to Joseph's surprise...backfired spectacularly when the so-called Vice President skewered him over the NCR's embarrassing defeat at the hands of House and his robots, much to the amusement of the assembled delegates who weren't focused on Bequine's ample bosom. While Kimball's behavior boded ill for prospects of peace, it was his earlier conversation with, apparently the leader of the Children of Atom, Pontiff Cromwell, that had gotten his attention.

"...One of my shepherds", Cromwell said, "spoke of one such peaceful mutant living near one of Atom's sites, whom even more strangely, she claims has since turned back into a man."

Joseph had no idea how that would even be possible, but if a solution, even if merely a cure, to the Super Mutant plague, actually existed...it was his sworn duty to look into it. It humbled him that Barnaky's hunch regarding the Children may have been be uncannily correct...not that it would be first time events had proved him right when the Council doubted his decisions.

He ceased his ruminations for the time being as House's representative, calling himself the King, called the meeting to order with a stern reminded that House would not tolerate misbehavior from the delegates. He then opened the floor to Lucius, who made what was essentially a thinly disguised appeal to Kimball to not re-open hostilities. Kimball's behavior so far gave little hope to Joseph that Lucius's appeal, though wise, would not fall on deaf ears. Next was Commander Fullman, one of the several representatives of mercenary companies invited who, in short, indicated that while he heartily despised the delegates assembled and who they represented, he was still prepared to fight their battles for them if paid enough. Tempted to point out that the same opinion could likely be coaxed out of the average harlot at the nearby Gomorrah, he demurred as they would probably have a use for mercenaries in the near future...especially if the persistent rumors that Paladin-commander Cranz was not only alive, but had betrayed them to the Cult were true.

Next was President Kimball, whom Joseph noted had been checking his watch frequently for some time now.

"Well that's a.... interesting little speech Mr Fulman,” Kimball said, “Good way to advertise your company but unfortunately you have wrongly assessed the NCR or what I plan on doing as president but you probably correct about what Foxy plans or had planned to do." Kimball chuckled a moment, then continued. "As the President of the NCR I have no intentions of playing some proxy cold war with the Legion and would be more than happy to resign and agree to an updated treaty of Goodsprings.... after a few... Border changes that is."

One of Kimball's aides moved around the table handing out copies of a map. Looking over Martin's shoulder, he noted the NCR was making a claim on Northern Oregon, largely unclaimed by a regional power, though it was close to the territories of the Western Brotherhood, and Arizona in it's entirety. Lucius would never agree to such terms.

"This is unacceptable!", exclaimed Brother Martin. "I cannot speak for Lucius Caesar, but I do speak for the Lord-Paladin, and I can tell you he is no more agreeable to the NCR attempting to solve their internal problems by embarking on military adventures against their neighbors now than he was five years ago!". He then added, "I beg of you to reconsider this rash course of action while you still can!"

Kimball smirked as he lit a cigar, then continued. “I figured that suggestion would be rejected.... which is why I started the invasion of Arizona two hours ago.” The room immediately went silent as Kimball turned to one of the white glove waiters and asked “Would it be possible to have a TV or radio brought in?”

“As we speak", Kimball continued, "the NCR 101st division storm troopers have broken though the legion lines, the 8th and 12th will follow them though and surround the legion forces as the 101th & 102th Marches on...Freeing and rally every slave they encounter they will turn an strike force into a small army...This time tomorrow that army will Marching on Phoenix!"

At this time, Martin's aide slipped in and approached Martin, whispering in Martin's ear first, then his.

"The Lord-Paladin directed me advise you", the aide whispered, "Our Ambassador in Santa Fe, as well as NCR State Radio, is reporting that the NCR forces began advancing East along I-10 and I-8 towards Phoenix about two hours ago. He wishes you to attend to him at the earliest possible moment."

Lucius looked over at Commander Fullman.

"You were saying?", he quipped sarcastically. He then rose and addressed the assembly.

"What Legion lines, President Kimball?" Lucius asked in a tone of voice that sounded like he was speaking to a child, "I know you haven't broken the Legion's lines, because there's no such thing." He then added icily, "By all means, march your armies into Arizona. See how far you get."

"But there's still a chance to turn away from this path, President Kimball," Lucius offered, "One last opportunity to save your soldiers lives, and those of your people. To spare them the experience of the utter horror of total war. Renew the treaty, keep the borders as they are. And my Legion will take no action against you. Otherwise continue down this path, and I will rain hell down on you. That is all I have to say."

Martin looked at Joseph with a wry expression on his face.

"It's out of our hands now, old friend", he said quietly. "Steel protect us all."

"The King", New Vegas

The King listened intently as Caesar took hold of the conversation. It was unsurprising that Lucius attacked the podium with a clear head. The Legion--and the rest of the west--had been fertilized by the Treaty of Goodsprings. It was in the interest of no one except perhaps the NCR to disintegrate it. Even then, they'd be foolish to invoke the wrath of everyone who valued peace. It was funny, that -- a group of nations that had managed to co-exist for a decade could just as easily bare their teeth and spill blood at a moment's notice.

James Kimball grabbed hold of the conversation. True to what Robert had predicted, he was going to try to egotistically force everyone's attention upon the NCR. Still, it didn't take a genius like Mr. House to predict that; within a matter of minutes, it had already happened. The King looked cautiously ambivalent at first as the NCR president passed around his proposed maps -- The King was very highly aware that it was foolish for anyone to assume that the Legion would give up even the slightest bit of Arizona's heartland.

It was once Kimball revealed that the NCR's invasion and attack on Caesar's Legion had begun that The King's tired eyes widened and something akin to a weak gasp escaped his lips. Predictably, the situation was not as notoriously black-and-white as the president made it sound. Lucius assured the lot that the Legion were not daft -- they would not dare try to take on the NCR in sheer brute force.

The King waited until the mayhem finally found silence and a window of opportunity. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then stopped. He looked at the securitron stationed next to the table with confusion. The securitron suddenly jolted in place, as if some sort of data had been transferred to it, and then beckoned The King to follow him.

"Excuse me." The King obliged, following the securitron to the waiting room of the Gourmand. He spoke to the securitron--who had its back turned to the group--for close to ten minutes. He slowly returned to the table, seemingly shaken-up. His steps had lost the confidence that they had stomped in with at the very beginning of the convention. He dropped into his chair and took a deep breath.

"Mr. House will not tolerate acts of violence by the NCR," The King said almost shakily. He very well realized that he was letting out the vocal equivalent of dropping a warhead through his carefully constructed statements. 'Tell them exactly what I am saying to you now. Word-for-word,' resonated House's voice as he recalled the conversation he had in the past ten minutes. "If the New California Republic eagerly looks to erase the mutual coexistence of the Goodsprings Treaty, then it is declaring its intentions moving forward and painting itself as a greedy warmonger. The Free Economic Zone of the Mojave is predicated on the freedom to carve out one's existence without of fear of being stepped upon by a salivating regime.

The King took another deep breath. "If you, President James Kimball, declare open war on Caesar's Legion and invade the lands surrounding the Mojave Desert, Robert House will take that as an affront to peace in the west as a whole and the forces of the F.Z.M will retaliate. If you move forward, you will be endangering your own citizens who eagerly run onto our soil despite your weak attempts to keep them home. If you follow through, you will be pitting your soldiers against thousands of Mark-II securitrons in addition to the Legion forces and whomever else desires to keep the west from being rolled over by your regime."

Finally, the King placed his final words of the speech. "So, if I were you, President Kimball...I would choose your next actions very carefully...The F.Z.M values preserving balance in the region far more highly than pandering to the average NCR citizen. You do not want the collective efforts of the west to point in your direction." At that, the King picked up his hat, set it back on his head, and leaned back in his chair. He took a deep breath. He had recited House's chosen words for him immaculately. It terrified him. He hadn't even begun to consider whether or not he actually agreed with or believed in the speech he had given. House had spoken directly through his lips, like a god-damned puppet. The King gave a slight nod toward Lucius before he looked down at the table. What in god's name am I doing, Robert?

President James Kimball- NCR

“Funny I was gonna offer you the same deal, with my renewed borders of course.” James replied before taking a puff on his cigar “However we both knew this coming.... Even if I hadn’t attacked it’d only be matter before you did.”

“And don’t give me some bullshit and say you wouldn’t...Sure it may not have been now or even in the next five years but eventually it would happen... NCR stands for everything the Legion is against and for the legion to succeed we would have to destroy.”

“Same goes Vegas and Brotherhood...” James said as he turned to look at the Midwest representatives. “Soon or later the legion will turn on the Cult of the Brotherhood as well.... better to deal with them now whilst they are not properly back to full strength yet.”

"Excuse me." The King obliged,

James turned and faced the “king” who looked like he’d just shit himself. "If the New California Republic eagerly looks to erase the mutual coexistence of the Goodsprings Treaty, then it is declaring its intentions moving forward and painting itself as a greedy warmonger. The Free Economic Zone of the Mojave is predicated on the freedom to carve out one's existence without of fear of being stepped upon by a salivating regime.

“and the legion isn’t an “salivating regime” Sure Lucius may have changed a few things but they have no future.... without some sort of major restructuring, which won’t be happing the legion will remain an wandering army, raiding and slaving anyone not them and eventually they will turn their attention back to us or you.”

The King took another deep breath. "If you, President James Kimball, declare open war on Caesar's Legion and invade the lands surrounding the Mojave Desert, Robert House will take that as an affront to peace in the west as a whole and the forces of the F.Z.M will retaliate. If you move forward, you will be endangering your own citizens who eagerly run onto our soil despite your weak attempts to keep them home. If you follow through, you will be pitting your soldiers against thousands of Mark-II securitrons in addition to the Legion forces and whomever else desires to keep the west from being rolled over by your regime."

Finally, the King placed his final words of the speech. "So, if I were you, President Kimball...I would choose your next actions very carefully...The F.Z.M values preserving balance in the region far more highly than pandering to the average NCR citizen. You do not want the collective efforts of the west to point in your direction."

“Are you seriously siding with the fucking legion? Very uncool Mr King or should I say Mr Puppet.” James replied “these are people who’d be hanging you up on a cross if they could have their way and If the “collective efforts of the west” as you call them gang up and destroy the NCR... You do realize will be next?”

James briefly looked at Hopeway who simply nodded “You what fuck it do... unlike my father or the president before me I haven’t actually been stopping people from coming to Vegas but if you wage war on the NCR the border will immediately close and the money will come to an halt..“

Probably will survive but not much more.

“Similarly none of my troopers will be going anywhere near Vegas or the Mojave for that matter... so if you wish to fight us you will have come to us.... Knowing and willing leaving Vegas open for an attack by any number of people.”

Including those who I hire...

“Regardless of what actually happens though I doubt NCR citizens will be wanting to go Vegas afterwards “James chuckled as he took a puff on his cigar. "So go ahead, Bankrupt your city."

Goddamnit, we're late. Goddamn.

Angela fumed and fidgeted with a Purple Heart as the vertibird soared over the endless desert. One of the mixed blessings of holding command that never quite went away was a hypersensitivity to who needed to be where at what time. She knew the Texan delegation was late.

After they had all gone through the plan numerous times, everyone had decided to relax. The Ranger guards were playing cards, their helmets and rifles propped up against the wall. Leland was snoozing, and the young Ranger who had earlier tried to ask him questions was sitting in front of the old man reading a book. That Morrison man sent from Dallas sat in the corner by himself. Angela found herself nervously fidgeting to pass the time. This was her first major foreign policy mission, and it was probably the biggest in Confederation history. It had been a struggle to fit her views into the world of New Austin thus far, and fitting them into the world would be a challenge. A challenge she would meet. Texas needed to be head on.

Angela heard an intentional cough, and looked up. Harris was smiling at her admonishingly. As ugly as Harris was, having a rotting face, the man had a natural charm. She immediately stopped toying with the medal, meeting and understanding Harris’s gaze. Harris was right. She was acting like a private on her first trip to Fort Bliss.

“Calm down, Angela.”, he said in a voice as buttermilk smooth as a ghoul’s voice can get, as he opened a heavy folder. “This’ll be just like all those times you talked down to the Brahmin barons. Now let’s review the plan. Reaffirm friendship with the NCR and the Keys, make sure the Legion and the Midwest knows our mettle, talk with Angels of War, and figure out else is out there.”

She sighed imperceptibly, gave a quick personal prayer, and opened her own folder.

Well I promised Texas I'd get them a fair deal. Let's get to it.

……………….

The vertibird touched down on McCarran Airport, and the six Texas Rangers rushed out first to make sure the area was secure. The Rangers formed up, and stood to attention assault carbines at the ready. The Rangers equipped the universally imposing Ranger armor colored grey for the official Texas army colors. Angela personally disliked the color, but the traditionalists preferred it. Leland was shaken awake as the plane touched down, and the others gathered what they needed. The ambassadors moved out of the vertibird swiftly, knowing they were late for the proceedings.

A strange unicycle robot, unlike any she had seen in Texas, rolled up to them. Intelligence briefing had referred to these as “securitrons”. It had a cartoonish image of a stereotypical cowboy on it’s screen as it greeted them(OOC: Not Victor, just thought it would be like House to greet Texans with a cowboy).

Really? National stereotypes at an international conference meant to bring people together?

“Howdy, Governor and President of the Confederation Congress Harris of New Houston, Governor Riviera of New Austin, and Ambassador Morrison of New Dallas.”, It began with a clear, commanding, country drawl “I’ll be your partner on up to the Ultra Luxe. Come along, now.”

They followed the machine to a “monorail”, a strange type of train on a raised bridge that carried them into New Vegas. While she and Morrison were impressed, Leland and Harris were unmoved. The other Rangers reaction couldn't be gauged. The whole trip was quiet. Soon enough, the delegation was speed walking through the neon streets, past the giant prewar relics. It was an impressive display of prewar technology, not unlike the work being done in New Austin to light the old monuments. There weren't many gawking tourists left around, and if there were the Texans wouldn't be much of a sight. Three people in boringly formal black suits, a old cowboy, and six Rangers in a kind of armor that was apparently common in the NCR.

They streamed into the building, Harris dealt with an inquisitive butler, and they pushed into the room. Her eyes were immediately overloaded with the amount of international diversity she saw in the room, but spotted out the Key delegation. And so, the delegation of a new Texas passed Romans, cultists, mercenaries, tribes, and nations on their way to their seats. None of it phased Angela. She had one goal in her mind, as the delegation took it’s spot next to it’s long term ally and Harris grabbed a strange map from someone.

For a better Texas, where people don't have to live like I did.

John Fulman- Arctic Haven Commander
The Ultra-Luxe, New Vegas

John sniffed carefully, trying to halt a sneeze. He'd watched since his small monologue, he eyed the argument in the room carefully and got up, quietly heading to the door while the rest of the room seemed embroiled in their border disputes. He'd kept his aide outside the meeting room as had been asked of him but he brought him into the room and whispered into his ear as the room argued, likely paying him no mind. "Fox. Keep here as my representative in my absence. I'm going back to the TCC, we may need our soldiers to put on a show to impress some of these folks here and lure in some business. Just say I had a meeting to attend back at our temporary base if anyone asks. But your real reason here is to keep that Pipboy 2000 on the table there relaying the audio of this meeting to the TCC so we can archive this meeting. Don't do anything to draw attention to it, just leave it idle as if you're uninterested or it's off." Tundra Fox saluted, his US Army patch flying upward as it connected with the long destroyed skin of his Ghoul forehead, without a word and John nodded as he exited the meeting room.

New Vegas Temporary Command Center (TCC), Allied Technologies Offices

John had arrived back at base via monorail route and went to looked around the base. Due to the survey team's inspection, the Pre-War office structure was quarantined off as uninhabitable for administrative purposes and blocked off with black and yellow tape. The base itself was well protected with ten feet concrete walls, each section of wall locked in place with massive support and hinge mechanisms. The men and women not assigned to direct Command communications were in the processes of a mock combat drill, using the old concrete barriers and cars found around the area as battlefield pieces, their guns using bean bag rounds and rubber bullets. It would still hurt, but the intention was to train them to hone their combat prowess. John fired his 10mm pistol into a nearby patch of dirt, "Cease fire!". The soldiers immediately dropped their previous actions and stood at parade rest.

John began to pace up and down the way, his troops having not had time to form ranks, "Wolves. The hour may be coming where you are sent once more into the fires of war." His face was grim as he continued, "You were trained for this, you still train for this. But soon the hour may come when all that training is needed. Ever since the Atomic Fire purged earth of America, we have been a land divided. Our founders of our Haven had a dream for us. A nation of soldiers, for soldiers, by soldiers. We do not take sides beyond where we're paid to and it's always been this way. We go where we're needed and we serve no one but ourselves. These nations and states, their petty bickering is their fight, not ours. When you die in the field on a deployment, you do not die for them, you die for our principles as mercenaries of war. Look to your left and look to your right, your brothers, your sisters, you all wear patches of foreign service not of the Haven and you put it aside for a higher purpose. No longer are you Legion, Brotherhood or NCR. No longer are you US Army or Chinese PLA. You are Arctic Wolves now, defenders of our den. Our Haven. We do the fighting these elite see themselves as 'too pure' for. For the Haven!" The soldiers raised their fists in the air in a salute, "For the haven!" John raised his hand to them, "Now go! All of you! Return your LTLs to the armory, grab your gear and get to your drilling. We want to look sharp for prospective contracts." John went back to his command trailer and went over to the audio officer's desk to listen in on the feed coming out of the Pipboy data.

((OOC: Gingy, since the Pipboy 2000 is still a RobCo device, if House deems it of worth, he can intercept data being transmitted if you feel like it. It's just the conference, but if you can find a plot/sub-plot you'd find interest in, you're welcome to use that open door if you're interested. Same applies to anyone with a sophisticated network nearby really.))

"The King" - New Vegas

The King watched James stomp his feet around like that of a child. It was astonishing, watching such a powerful and well-respected man feel the need to prove to the table that his dick was larger than the rest. He intently watched as the President berated him, although the man's 'puppet' comment was not wrong. The King had sold out his personal ideologies by becoming House's right hand, and with it had come luxuries beyond his imagining.

However, Mr. House did not but in to prepare The King for his next response. The securitron simply stared at him. The whole table was staring at him. Robert wants me to take this myself? He suddenly surged with confidence. He had this.

"Oh, good. Well, then. Simply abide by our terms and there will be no need for war. If any of the points you invade along the Legion border are within a hundred miles of F.Z.M borders, we will take it as an act of war. Believe me when I say that New Vegas wants nothing to do with the bloodshed." The King paused. "My insult of your foreign policy is more of an observation than a thinly-veiled threat. The NCR is clearly assuming the role that Legion once possessed under Edward Sallow by menacingly beating its chest like it is right now."

The King covered his face with his palm for a moment and sighed. "The Free Economic Zone of the Mojave hasn't had the NCR hooked up to it as a life-support in years. It has an internal working economy outside of the New Vegas Strip that can sustain itself for years without tourism. Not to mention, the NCR are not the only tourists we receive. Common-folk from all different backgrounds of the west find enjoyment in Las Vegas." He paused. "And the fact that you do not know this simply perpetuates the NCR's ignorance. You know nothing that transpires beyond your borders besides tidbits to fuel your propaganda. Your father didn't either, and Robert ruined him."

"The problem with you, I'm afraid, is that you are too obsessed with your image. It is sickening to witness you freely bargain the lives of so many soldiers in a needless war--effectively quietly adopting the same mentality as Edward's Legion--only so you can solidify your role as president." He sighed. "But it's your future. I am only telling you that your military efforts cannot and will not transpire within 100 miles of F.Z.M. borders."

Mr. House might not have appreciated that The King had improvised and altered his message to a less abrasive one, but The King felt that it was necessary to avoid a show of force against the NCR. It was simply a superiority complex charade that New Vegas could not possibly win. Still, he had gotten the truth out. He wanted to expose James' arrogance and ward off the other delegates for cashing in their chips on a man who hadn't clearly thought through anything he had said this evening.

Joshua Graham, Christine Royce - Ultra-Luxe Casino

@Lewis251

A laughter could soon be heard, the Ghost Trader representatives had been mostly quiet - right until Joshua Graham started laughing. It sounding a mix between somebody shoveling rocks, mixed with the pain of burned vocal cords. "It's funny, you think to assume - you have the power to fight both an ideal. That was build after a civilization, that once was the dominant power of its time for a thousand years. And also against the Man - who ruled over this place, long before your NCR emerged as a nation from the Vaults."

Joshua got an elbow into his side, courtesy of Christine - whom gave him a dirty look for trying to agitate the leader of the NCR. Despite his personal beliefs or opinions - it wasn't worth it, in dragging the Ghosts into war. Especially since they were the ones to save Joshua in the first place - and Christine was getting irridated over the months of him abusing his position.

"His views doesn't represent the Ghost Traders, or most of what we think. But, I will warn you President Kimball - do NOT threaten my extended family...it will end badly...." spoke Christine Royce. She was the leader of a tribe of ghouls basically - but that didn't mean, she couldn't look out for her fellow Brotherhood people. Even if she wasn't likely going to return.

Not to mention, Kimball and the NCR didn't know what might hit them - if they decided to challenge the Scribes of Technology. The Brotherhood' mission was to keep dangerous tech out of tribal hands - there wasn't anything in their Charter that banned the use of such dangerous tech against their enemies. The rumors of what the Brotherhood had locked up in their secret vaults - well...there was a reason, why the Circle of Steel existed.

@Gingy@Casey

"As for us. The Ghost Traders simply wish to widen and expand trade with the Free Economic Zone of the Mojave," explained Christine. "My people are very good at constructing and repairing various Pre-War tech. Namely old plasma and laser equipment. We'd wonder, if it's possible to set up business in New Vegas..."

Despite being rather a rather fresh new face in the Mojave - those few souls, whom had passed the Ghost Traders and done business with them - all had positive words to say. The Ghost Traders were excellent repairmen, not to mention they could turn a broken down plasma rifle into a brand new one, with minimal parts. Some had even spoken of buying completely brand new, equipment from the Ghost Traders.

Stuff that looked like it had come off the assembly line of a Pre-War facility. It was also a open secret, that the Ghost people were from the Sierra Madre - which many spoke, of holding great technology in there. The deadly red Cloud that covered the place, was the only downside of going there - but it also had the positive of keeping Pre-War tech in very great pristine shape.

"We'd be even okay with setting up our trading posts in the New Vegas sewers - if the topside is too expensive or too occupied for us," spoke Christine, adjusting the voice modulator on her helmet. Her sound a mix between a machine and that of some, fancy Pre-War singer. Which was half-true, after Father Elijah locked her in that Auto-Doc and replaced her natural voice with the fake one.

Lucius, Caesar of The Legion

Lucius stared at Kimball Jr. following the President's response and then nodded slowly, before he stood up out of his chair and reached for his helmet that was lying on the table. Vulpes followed suit.

“Very well, Mr. President,” Lucius said calmly, “Then our business here is concluded, and I now go to fight the war that you’ve started. I cannot eat and drink whilst my men are out fighting and dying even as we sit here. I was never a good politician anyway, war at least, I know.”

“In my place,” He continued, “I am appointing Quaestor Titus Crassus to serve as representative in my stead before you all.” At these words, one of the praetorians stepped forward and removed his helmet. He was quite obviously not a Praetorian however, and bore the looks of someone who was more at home in a library than serving in an honor guard, with rimmed glasses and a bookish physique, “He will speak with my authority and my blessing.”

“I will do my best Caesar,” Titus said, with a bow.

“I know you will Titus,” Lucius said clapping him on the back. Lucius then pointed to one of his other Praetorians, a man who was distinctly the opposite of Titus, with large muscled arms and a broad chest, “Attius, guard him with your life...”

Attius saluted Caesar, and took his place behind Titus.

“With that I thank House for his invitation, his hospitality and his offer of refreshment,” Lucius said, now addressing the rest of the delegates, and indicating the lone half-empty cup of water he’d ordered that still sat on the table, “And I bid vale to the rest of you. It's a pity we could not speak more. Praetorians! On me!”

Lucius strapped on his helmet and began walking out of the gourmand, followed swiftly by the Praetorians and Vulpes, leaving Titus to take his seat along with the now lone Attius. As they were leaving, Vulpes leaned in and half-whispered to Caesar,

“You were right. I’m glad I didn’t order anything.”

“I told you we wouldn’t stay long,” Lucius replied with a sly grin.

Swiftly, Caesar and his retinue left the Ultra Luxe and the strip behind and mounted their horses. With a determined vigor, they began galloping at full stride down the main street of Freeside, and one of the Praetorians blew a fierce war horn that sent squatters, bums, and gamblers ducking for cover in fright. All of them wondering what the hell had just happened.

---------------------------------------------------------------
Sometime Later, East Bank of the Colorado

Once Lucius and his men had crossed the Colorado secretly, they met up with a waiting force of several hundred horsemen, who’d been standing watch on the eastern bank near an overlooking cliff. The horsemen were heavily armored head to toe and each of them carried a carbine slung over their backs and a heavy knife-spear crafted by the Ghost People of the Sierra Madre was clasped in their hands.

“Well the NCR won’t surrender…” Lucius joked loudly as he and Vulpes rode up to them. A series of deep laughs emanated from the horsemen.

Trotting up and down the line of horsemen, Lucius spoke to them personally as he’d done a hundred times before,

“The NCR has declared open war on The Legion and begun their invasion. The moment we’ve waited for, feared, and planned for all these years has arrived. I won’t lie to any of you. This will be a hard fought campaign. It will be bloody, brutal, terrible in all the ways a war can be and countless will likely die. On both sides. Perhaps even myself.”

“But,” Lucius continued, “I will promise you this. That I will be fighting right alongside each and every one of you as I always have. Whatever the outcome. I will share your hardships, your losses, and your glories. I will bleed with you, and I will die with you if it comes to it.”

“After all, was I not with you in Denver? When the Dog tribes rose against us?”

“Caesar!” The men yelled in response.

“Was I not with you in Utah as we battled the fierce raider tribes of the Colorado plateau?”

“Caesar!” The cry came again.

“Was I not with you in New Mexico? As the NCR tore through our lands and we made them pay for every inch they took?”

“Caesar!”

“And so I will be with you again. Legio invicta!” Lucius yelled, holding his gladius aloft.

“Legio invicta!” The horsemen cheered, returning the cry.

“Legio invicta!”

“Legio invicta!”

“We ride hard and fast. The Legatus awaits!” Lucius shouted finally, he then turned his horse and rode up to Vulpes, “You know what to do Vulpes. Mars be with you.”

“In hoc signo taurus vinces. ,” Vulpes replied with a nod, and he began riding away alone. While Lucius and his horsemen wheeled east at full speed, leaving the lights of Vegas behind them.

OOC: [Wild Wasteland] “Ride now, ride now, ride for ruin. And the world's ending!”

Commonwealth of Pennsylvania

Halls of Congress - Bethlehem, PA

Various men walked around talking and discussing various issues. They were all clad in black outfits. They were wearing the official uniform of government employees and Representatives. To someone with knowledge of pre-war history would recognize their outfits from the old Quaker and Puritan communities. However, there was one person that stood among the group, a red headed woman, dressed in a black skirt, with a black blazer with white shirt and red tie.

Many of those in attendance intently listened to her as she spoke, "Very soon I and my delegation will set off for New Vegas. We will represent our great Commonwealth and further our cause and influence. As your governor, she made her way through the throng of men and left the building. She looked behind at what once was a library, after the bombs had fallen it was retrofitted and turned into the house of government along with the former city hall across the plaza.

She boarded the vertibird along with her delegation and guards. The guards were dressed in blue, their outfits resembling the outfits of the old Colonial army. They were greatly influenced by the outfits of the Minutemen in the Massachusetts Commonwealth. However, they carried assault rifles instead of muskets.

As she sat on the vertibird, one of her delegates insisted on praying before takeoff. Sam wanted to roll her eyes, but bowed her head. Soon the vertibird took off and headed off for New Vegas. She couldn't help but wonder why she had received an invitation to this convention. Why would they need to worry about what these Western countries thought? Her concern was the presence of the Cult at the convention, and just what they might be up to.

She had read many reports about what was happening in western PA. Her people were worried about their spreading influence. Even though they accepted all religions, they were fearful of this cult and their beliefs.

Next Day - McCarran Airport

The Vertibird landed at the old Airport. Waiting on the Tarmac was a series of Stagecoaches. She and her delegation boarded the stagecoaches and headed for New Vegas. The Brahmin pulled coaches moved at a steady pace toward the city walls. As she looked out the window she was amazed to be able to gaze upon the Strip once again. However, her companions were deep in prayer, praying for the souls of the sinners that lived in this modern Sodom & Gomorrah.

As the stagecoach was getting closer to the city walls, a large contingent of men on horseback rode away from the city. They were clad in armor and dressed in red. They were blaring a horn and rode at great speed. Something was up, they seemed angry. She saw the guards sitting on top of the coach in front of hers, they had their hands on their guns, they were clearly on edge by these strangers. They put their guns away as the riders disappeared.

She had lived in New Vegas, and she recognized them as legionnaires. However, why they were leaving the city, she had no idea. As they arrived at the gates they slowly entered and approached the gates to the Strip. A large group of Securitrons, approached them and requested identification.

Sam stepped out of her stagecoach and handed the securitron their invitation to the meeting. She was informed many of the delegates had arrived and the meeting was already in session. She didn't mind being late, all that meant is that as soon as she walked in, all attention would be on her.

The Stagecoach slowly made its way down the strip to the Ultra-Luxe. When they passed Gomorrah, the guards were attentively looking at the half naked women parading around. Her fellow delegates were awestruck as well, many were furious at such a display of sin and depravity. But she knew many of them feigned piety, as that was expected of the leaders of the commonwealth. However, the representative from the Amish country refused to even look out the window as he read his old bible. Luckily the Ultra-Luxe was classier.

She spoke to her guards and told them she wanted two of them to accompany her and the remaining 4 to stay outside the casino. She turned to the 5 delegates that accompanied her and motioned for the entrance. As they walked inside, the guards handed their rifles to the security guards, minus their hidden guns. They were led to their destination by fashionably dressed man in a mask.

She approached the conference room and gave a nod to the attendant to announce her arrival. The great doors to the room pulled open and in stepped the masked man. He Stomped his cane on the ground, and in a loud voice interrupted the delegates, “Her most humble and pious Governor of the Free Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.”

As he announced her arrival she, and her black clad delegates entered the room. Her two guards waited outside the room, and they gave her a salute as the doors closed. She pondered how odd they must look dressed as colonial soldiers, in such an opulent casino. She took a seat at the table, where she spotted her name, and her entourage stood behind her. “Sorry I am late,” she smirked, “Travel took much longer than expected from our fair commonwealth. I do hope I did not miss much.”

High Elder Gladstone – Western Brotherhood

One moment it had been diplomacy, the next moment war had been declared. House had turned on the NCR, the leader of the Legion had departed, and all Atticus could think was.

Well, that escalated quickly.

Pausing to take a final sip of wine, the High Elder dabbed his lips with a tablecloth, before speaking up towards the new entrant.
“You have missed much Madam Delegate, just a declaration of war. So politics as per usual.”

Looking around the room, Atticus’ mouth set in a grim line, before he finally decided to get the job he’d came here to do over. Turning to his two scribes, he gave a nod to them, their services would be needed soon. Standing, he cleared his throat and looked towards the King.

“If I might speak to an envoy of New Vegas in private, that would be much appreciated. In addition to this, my associate scribes wish to speak with representatives of the Midwestern Brotherhood, and with a representative of the NCR.”

A pause, he considered his words before continuing.

“The position of the Western Brotherhood, is peace. To that end, we seek trade agreements with as many of our neighbours. Should you wish to engage in such a dialogue, please make it known, and the Western Brotherhood will endeavour to strike an agreement between our nations.”

Giving a small bow to the room, the High Elder stood waiting with his eyes on the King as he waited for an answer.