James Williams-Far Harbour

"The Children of Atom?", Steve asked, a bit surprised. "We had some of them back in the Capital Wasteland when I was growing up. They were weird, but harmless, more or less. They are actually attacking the town?"

Megaton... To think I'd rather prefer that suicide spot compared to here.

“Yes... I...heard about Cromwell and his unexploded bomb but to answer your question, yes and no... They haven’t directly attack the town but supposedly they have been attacking and seemlying brainwashing people who leave the dock...didn’t happen to me though...”

Steve then introduced himself to Connie who briefly examined what had been happening and was able to do whilst also drinking whiskey.... If she didn’t speak with an awful accent perhaps she could get a job as tour guide.

Or would the accent help?

"Now as for the Children of Atom, “Mitch said, as he turned to the newcomer,” Nobody’s heard hide or hair of them for awhile now And I don't think these new brand of cultists have anything to do with our ol' pals in Atom. Smart money would be on those new ones having wiped them out. That's what I think anyway. I Gotta say too, not too many folks in town will shed a tear for them either."

“Or a radical part of the cult took over, wouldn’t be the first or last time some Nutjob with cult of personality around them forced their way into power... Just look at the brotherhood. "James chuckled “...oh wait you guys won’t know who they are.”

“Imagine a group of people hoarding and stealing per-world war 3 techs and then justifying to themselves by saying they are "protecting" people even when this is notable proven wrong when the enclave raid a village that the Brotherhood took it advance weapons from and probably... No did... made their final fates worst than what would have been...”

“Do really need to kill these people?”

“These things are not people they are mutated fifth who took what was left of American and fucked it up even more for their own selfish greed... Now you will shoot this pathetic Maggot or will shoot you solider!”

ACTIVATE ANTI-MIND WIPE PROGRAM STAGE 2 01000110 01010101 01000011 01001011 01011001 01001111 01010101 00100001 01110010 01100001 01101001 01101100 01110010 01101111 01100001 01100100 ACTIVATE ANTI-MIND WIPE PROGRAM STAGE 2 01010101 01000011 01001011 01011001 01001111 01010101 00100001 01110010 01100001 01101001 01101100 01110010 01101111 01100001 01100100

“Hello” A voice of an elder gentleman, one seemlying familiar to James seemly stated but looking around Bar James could not see where it was coming from

“Don’t be startled or brother looking around.... You have a computer chip inside your head, before you panic the chip is not harmful and is broadcasting this per-recorded message directly to your cochlea, so only you can hear this.”

“You have been the victim of Brainwashing, Presumably done By the group known as the railroad but if you are hearing this message our countermeasure has worked.... unlike the last time when it blew Charlie Richter’s fucking head off... god that was bloody...shit will have to edit that out.”

“Anyway if you haven’t already you will soon begin to have memory... “Flashes” this is your brain attempt to merge both sets of memories into one. If possible we advise do nothing straining or stressful for the next 24 hours until the process is over...

“But onto the main point. This message has been recorded so that you may know your true identify allowing to you to continue with mission or alternately return to base for a memory clean up.”

The message seemlying stopped only for another voice, this time an older women speak “Agent you are.....”

where it not a Busy packed Bar or the local people seemlying fascinated by Tour Guide Connie crush on the other “mainlander” Steve people may have noticed James had sat still for about 10 minutes as the recording revealed to James his true identity and reason for being on the island.

Although that was assuming the recorded message was to be believed or for James for that matter.... He couldn’t recall being implanted so anyone could have put this “computer chip” in there and was assuming James simply wasn’t going crazy from the fog.

need to find out more...

Although Luckily for James there was a way to get more answers as he turned his attention to the two “railroad” agents who had been quietly talking to themselves in one of the plank’s booths after returning to town but after seemlying agreeing to something both had left.

Finishing of the bottle of vim James looked a Mitch and said “I’ll be back.” Before getting up and leaving the last plank himself.

Leaving the Bar James began to follow the male agent (roll check?) and assuming he was not seen attempted to get jump on the man once they were out of site. (Roll check?)

OOC: I was thinking one roll check to see if James was able to successfully follow the guy and then assuming he was another roll check on whenever he could get the drop on the agent.

OOC MK2: Not Atom Richer

Steve Miller - The Last Plank

"Where were...ahem. Something about a plan. To defend the island." Corrine said slowly, as she doodled in the water droplets between their drinks. "You said somethin' about wantin' to help, right? Have you been up on the hull? Let's...take a walk, after this drink."

"Corrine's moonlighting as a tour guide these days," drawled one of the harborfolk from behind her yet again, clunking his empty beer bottle onto the bar and waving for another.

"[censored] right," Corrine retorted. "I don't mind showin' you where to go, if you catch my meaning, Errick."

Errick chuckled, took his beer, and walked off. After shooting a baleful look in the direction of the local man, Corrine turned back to him.

"What do you say?", she asked earnestly.

Steve wasn't sure at this point what exactly her intent was, to show him the situation this town faced first hand, or something else entirely...and from the talk he had heard from the stairs coming down and this Errick fellow's remarks everybody in the place had picked up on her interest in him...but he did know there was only one way he was going to find out.

"Sounds like a great idea", Steve replied, working on his beer to keep up with Corrine's progress on her whisky. "I'm ready to go when you are."

When Corrine rose to leave, Steve got up and followed her out, grabbing the door and holding it open for her as she walked out, then let it close behind him as he left.

"Downside of small towns", Steve said as he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the bar behind him, "folks like to get into everyone else's business." He shrugged. "Just like my old home in Rivet City. Anyhow, you mentioned something called "The Hull", what's that?"

CORRINE DOOLAK - Far Harbor

"Sounds like a great idea," Steve replied. "I'm ready to go when you are."

Corrine had never felt in such a hurry to take off from the Plank. Steve had wedged himself between her and the door, holding it open for her. She hardly acknowledged it in her haste to get away from the stares and chortles behind her.

The outside air hit her like a salty and refreshing, cool caress. Maybe I did hit the whiskey a bit too hard, but I didn't exactly expect to be on a date.

Steve drew up beside her. "Downside of small towns", he said as he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the bar behind him, "folks like to get into everyone else's business." He shrugged. "Just like my old home in Rivet City."

"Yeah. Not much a person can hide in this place," she shrugged back, though she appreciated his sympathetic tone.

"Anyhow, you mentioned something called "The Hull", what's that?"

"This way," she smiled, heading towards the gate, but instead, ducking into the old souvenir shop and going up the stairs and out the second floor door to the upper gangway of the Hull. She chose the southernmost spot, just past the gate, but far enough and quiet enough from the main town. "The Hull is the wall with the main gate that protects the town from the rest of the island, but it's also the best spot in town to get a quiet moment and a...view."

Corrine gestured southwest. The sun was starting to contemplate setting on the day, filtering through thinner patches of the fog and looking hauntingly beautiful. The rocky cliffs of the northeastern edge of the island were highlighted and the sound of the water breaking on the shore was just slightly louder than the din of the town behind them. "I'm really not a tour guide," she explained. "You seemed to be askin' about the island and I thought I should just...show it to you."

She sighed, happily. "I ain't been anywhere else, I'm sure you figured that out. I don't know what the mainland looks like, let alone any of the places you've talked about, like where you're from. But the island...it's a part of me, as I'm a part of it. I don't know any other life than to live every day lookin' at that." She gestured at the nearby ruins of gift shops and bait and tackle stores. The sunlight, combined with the fog, blanketed the sight in a beautiful mist that almost looked serene. A breeze picked up once more. Instinctively, she pulled her coat tighter around her body, taking a moment to just enjoy the relative peace and pleasant company.

"So, that's why I ain't takin' off, even if it seems like the wrong choice. I don't want to live anywhere else." Corrine leaned forward and looked out into the fog. "If you've got some ideas on how we can defend it, or die trying, then I'll gladly hear 'em. But..." she pat the rail next to her, encouraging him to come closer, "maybe later?"

James Gregor Castner- Far Harbor

James stripped off his clothes in front of Far Harbor’s gate. At first he attempted to be neat and carefully avoided placing his clothes in the muck and scum around and on the road. But the guards had no time for this and fired a harpoon straight through his pants, pinning them into the ground and encouraging him to care less about cleanliness.

Soon enough he was down to nothing. The guards couldn’t hold back their laughter, snorting and guffawing as they gestured him through the gate. All of him was on display as he entered town. A crowd of mostly women and some men had gathered to laugh, holler, and shout profanities at him. When he tried to cover his manhood, some fisher woman threw a hard mutfruit at him. She wheezed with laughter, and shouted “Don’t you ###### try!”.

Damn. This was definitely a low. Fortunately he was in too many battles to really be embarrassed by this kinda crap, even if it still sucked. It went on for a few minutes before a woman suddenly walked directly towards him from the back of the crowd. The woman was slim and about his age from what he could tell. She smirked, thrusted a pair of jeans into his hands, and simply said "Welcome to Far Harbor, stranger." before turning around and rushing back to what looked like a bar.

The crowd booed and grumbled when they saw the stranger had been given clothes. A few assorted vegetables were halfheartedly thrown at him before the crowd started to cleared off. He sighed with relief, and then attempted to pull on the pair of jeans he had been given. They were a little small, but just about right. Flashes of pain came from his leg. He better ask the woman who gave him pants if they had a doctor here. But first he had to see if he could get his stuff back.

He turned around to call the guards from the top of the fortification, seeing their laughter had dried up into chuckling. Before he could say anything, an ancient looking islander stepped up.

"Alright that's enough. [censored] animals, give the boy back his clothes and stop your hollerin'. He did what he was told, ain't gotta make him pay for that."
"He's one of them cultists Longfellow!" someone from the crowd shouted back.
"Hell he could be," the man apparently named Longfellow shrugged, "And he also could be who he says he is. All I know is he sure as hell ain't going to do any harm without a gun or effects, so give him back his britches and lets do this civilized-like."

Well he knew he wasn’t a cultist, he simply had to convince them. He made a mental note to inquire about all of that later. Finally one of the villagers gave him his clothes back. He put underwear on under the jeans, and pulled out a plain grey T-shirt from his rucksack. His old outfit was dirty and damaged from his fall earlier. He stored it away carefully, so it could be cleaned later.

Longfellow stretched out a hand for shaking. He took it, eager to build trust with these people.

"You've come to Far Harbor at a strange time my friend. Name's Longfellow. I trust you really aren't one of them cultists, but just to be safe, we're going to have to put someone to watch you for a little while. Just until we figure out who you are. Nothing personal, but nobody livin' has come out of the fog for awhile now. G'head and have a seat over in the Mariner's old house. Tommy," he addressed one of the townsfolk, "Watch that fella for now until we get a chance to talk with him. Don't let nobody from the town harass him either."

He wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of house arrest. “Could I at least get checked out by a doctor before I go there? I think I suffered some injuries on the way here.”

Steve Miller - Outside the Last Plank

"This way," Corrine, now smiling, said. She headed towards the gate, but instead, ducking into the old souvenir shop and going up the stairs and out the second floor door to the upper gangway of the outer wall of the settlment. Steve followed her, coming to a spot along the southern part of the wall. She then spoke "The Hull is the wall with the main gate that protects the town from the rest of the island, but it's also the best spot in town to get a quiet moment and a...view."

Corrine gestured southwest. The sun was starting to contemplate setting on the day, filtering through thinner patches of the fog and looking hauntingly beautiful. The rocky cliffs of the northeastern edge of the island were highlighted and the sound of the water breaking on the shore was just slightly louder than the din of the town behind them. "I'm really not a tour guide," she explained. "You seemed to be askin' about the island and I thought I should just...show it to you."

Corrine was certainly right about the view. The setting sun and the fog gave the vista they looked out on a haunting beauty he couldn't help but appreciate.

I see what you mean", Steve replied, "it is beautiful."

She sighed, happily. "I ain't been anywhere else, I'm sure you figured that out. I don't know what the mainland looks like, let alone any of the places you've talked about, like where you're from. But the island...it's a part of me, as I'm a part of it. I don't know any other life than to live every day lookin' at that." She gestured at the nearby ruins of gift shops and bait and tackle stores. The sunlight, combined with the fog, blanketed the sight in a beautiful mist that almost looked serene. A breeze picked up once more. Instinctively, she pulled her coat tighter around her body, taking a moment to just enjoy the relative peace and pleasant company.

"This is a lot different from the Capital Wasteland", Steve said, "It's practically a desert there. Nothing but Mutants, ferals, and Brotherhood fighting endlessly over the picked over bones of Old Washington. Couldn't wait to get away and haven't been back since. Some areas of the Mainland aren't too bad though."

"So, that's why I ain't takin' off, even if it seems like the wrong choice. I don't want to live anywhere else." Corrine leaned forward and looked out into the fog. "If you've got some ideas on how we can defend it, or die trying, then I'll gladly hear 'em. But..." she pat the rail next to her, encouraging him to come closer, "maybe later?"

"Yeah", Steve said as he took a seat on the rail next to Corrine, "Later sounds good to me."

As they sat together, enjoying the moment and watching the sun set over the fog shrouded trees, he nonchalantly put his arm around her waist.

OOC: @Lewis251 did two different rolls. 3/6 for following and then 2/6 for getting the jump if the first roll passed. Surprisingly passed both.

As James stepped out of the Bar, he began following the Railroad Agent Bishop. Bishop, while normally alert and mindful of his surroundings, the seasoned agent had apparently allowed his guard down for a fleeting moment here. Perhaps he assumed that nobody in the town would be after him.

James successfully tailed Bishop through the town, as the agent checked out stores and buildings throughout the town, apparently looking for something. When he arrived at the bait shop, he muttered something to Brooks, and the shopkeep shook his head and shrugged. Bishop thanked him and then resumed his wanderings.

The agent then made his way to the rear of the dock, and found himself alone on a quiet stretch of the 'shanty' area of Far Harbor. Where many of the towns bums and low-lifes hung out huddled at the very edge of the dock.

Bishop seemed lost in thought and was blissfully unaware of James's approach.

Old Longfellow

“Could I at least get checked out by a doctor before I go there? I think I suffered some injuries on the way here.”

Longfellow nodded thoughtfully, "Aye I suppose that could be arranged. Stay here and I'll go and fetch the Doc." He then pointed at the Harborman standing guard, "You remember what I said Tommy right?" The Harborman simply nodded and cradled the ancient shotgun he had in his arm. The gun had probably been passed down through his family for generations.

Some minutes later, Longfellow returned with a gentlemen in a dirty white labcoat. The man carried a small well-worn medical bag in his left hand and extended his right hand in a handshake,

"Name's Teddy," He said, "Teddy Wright. I'm the Doctor around here for Far Harbor. Only one in town matter-of-fact. I hear you came in from the fog but not much more than that. So what are we looking at here?"

Longfellow took Teddy aside briefly and whispered something into his ear,

"Ah...I see," Teddy replied with a perturbed expression, "I'll see what I can do."

He knelt down next to the stranger and opened his bag, revealing a small assortment of medical gear,

"Have any immediate injuries I need to look at?" He began, taking out a stethoscope and a few bandages.

James Gregor Castner-Far Harbor

Longfellow nodded thoughtfully, "Aye I suppose that could be arranged. Stay here and I'll go and fetch the Doc." He then pointed at the Harborman standing guard, "You remember what I said Tommy right?" The Harborman simply nodded and cradled the ancient shotgun he had in his arm. The shotgun looked well used and well loved. James could relate to that idea and he patted the place where Bear would be in his holster. You rely on your weapons to live in this world long enough, and eventually they become more than tools.

“Most appreciated”, he simply said as Longfellow turn to to leave.

Longfellow left and returned with a dirty looking doctor. His coat had two types of brown stains: those from mud, and those from blood. Certainly not as clean as the doctors at the citadel, but hopefully just as skilled.

The doctor extended his hand for a shake, which James quickly shook.

"Name's Teddy," He said, "Teddy Wright. I'm the Doctor around here for Far Harbor. Only one in town matter-of-fact. I hear you came in from the fog but not much more than that. So what are we looking at here?"
Before he could respond, Longfellow whispered something in Teddy’s ear. James’s eyes narrowed. This whole suspected of being a cultist thing was going to get old.

Ah...I see," Teddy replied with a perturbed expression, "I'll see what I can do."

The doctor knelt down and started rummaging through his medical bag. "Have any immediate injuries I need to look at?" Teddy began, taking out a stethoscope and a few bandages.

“Yeah my right legs injured. Not broken, but probably sprained or badly bruised. Can also feel some cuts and bruises on my chest, arms, and back. Fell off my boat when it hit some rocks up the shore, and fell on the same rocks.”

He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up the deception forever, but he wasn’t sure if these people were hostile or not. And wastelander attitudes towards the Brotherhood were… diverse to say the least. Then again, he wasn’t quite sure he was a part of the Brotherhood anymore. That thought brought a rush of sadness and memories triumphant and heartbreaking, but maybe there was a silver lining? A chance to begin again? If so, it wasn’t off to a great start.

James Williams-Far Harbour

As James stepped out of the Bar, he began following the Railroad Agent “Bishop” or whatever his name was. For a member of a radical underground group that was constantly afraid of being discovered he was surprising easy to follow unseen around town.

Granted the Naked old Git be paraded through town or Tour Guide Connie's “Date” with Steve may have distracted the agent but whatever it was James was able to tail “Bishop” as he made his way around town, briefly chatting with the general good store owner before making his way to the rear dock...
wonder what he asked for at the shop?

Alone on the far end of the dock and in what was the “shanty area” of town this would be perfect place to strike. Only people who may catch James where the Bums and low-life thugs and very few if any of them would probably care what James did to another mainlander.

And if they do some free Jet should shut them up.

Seemlying lost in thought James silently approach Bishop and dug both barrel of his sawn-off shotgun into the man’s back as he held his combat knife close to his neck in the other.

“Okay listen up railroad don’t move/shout or you’re be sleeping with the mirelurks tonight... ”James ordered as he dug the shotgun into his back to infosize his point.

“Every since I arrived on this mutated shithole of an island... I’ve been getting flashbacks.” James stated “I recall doing something like standing up to colonel Sutler but something seems off... like I didn’t do that and then I get other memories like freeing this little girl Susan Cooper from slavers which I don’t recall doing but it feels like I did....”

Especially when it seemlying happen 20 year ago.

“And to top it all off a Short while ago I got a message saying I’d been brainwashed... I don’t know if this is true or if someone is just messing with me either way once this shit with the atom fruitcakes is dealt with I plan to find out.”

“I don’t expect you’d know if I was brainwashed or sell-out anyone in the railroad who would know so I’m not even gonna brother asking.... but Doctor Amari in the memory den she is the one who performs the brainwipes for the railroad correct?”

Once we get off to Boston I can ask her about it but just need to confirm it...

Doc Teddy Wright - Mariner's Shack

“Yeah my right legs injured. Not broken, but probably sprained or badly bruised. Can also feel some cuts and bruises on my chest, arms, and back. Fell off my boat when it hit some rocks up the shore, and fell on the same rocks.”

"Nothing I can't handle," Teddy replied in an upbeat tone as he began tending to the stranger's wounds. After a few hours of examination and medical attention, he'd given the man a full evaluation. James's leg had been set with a makeshift splint to keep it immobile. He also treated the cuts on his back with a bottle of old rubbing alcohol and a few bandages which wrapped around his chest, back, and abdomen.

"There, I think that'll do it," Teddy said with a sigh as he packed up his supplies and snapped his bag shut, "No charge this time, on account of the not-so-warm welcome you received coming into town. Let me know if you need anything else, my little clinic is in the back of the Bait Shop, can't miss it."

With that, Teddy gave a wave to Longfellow, and stepped outside the shack for a few moments with him before heading down back the dock. Longfellow returned, pulled up a chair and sat down next to James. He then pulled out his flask and grabbed two old glasses from a nearby shelf. He poured himself a shot of whiskey and offered another to James.

"So," He said, setting his gun aside, but still within easy reach, "Doc said you don't have any signs of long-term radiation exposure or of having been in the Fog for very long. Which I guess pretty well clears you of being a cultist. That still don't explain much about what you were doing out there though. Mind filling in the blanks?"

Bishop - Being threatened

"Whoa, whoa take it easy now," Bishop said, feeling the end of the shotgun pressed into his back and the knife looming too close for comfort to his neck, "Look I can help you. You say you're having memory flashes right? Visions and things that don't make sense. I've seen it happen plenty of times before. Alot of Synths go through the same thing when they first 'come to' and realize what they are. Sometimes the memory wipe doesn't take or the memory programming is faulty. If you know who The Railroad are, then you know we're dedicated to helping Synths. Just put down the weapons, and lets talk man to man. Huh? No need for this to get ugly...I can help you."

CORRINE DOOLAK -- The Hull, Far Harbor

Corrine had hoped he would take her invitation to sit with her at the rail, but didn't expect him to make such a sweet, tender gesture, like put his arm around her. ...well, she'd hoped, but it'd been months...decades...since she'd engaged in something like a proper date. It wasn't like the island was at all densely populated, and it only took her a matter of weeks in Far Harbor proper before she felt like everyone was more like a member of her extended family.

Fine. You've been lonely. But it doesn't make this less...nice.

Naturally, she nestled up to him a little closer. His body felt warm against hers, even through her multiple layers. "So, if you're from the mainland -- like a desert, you said? How did you ever end up as a sailor?"

James Williams-Far Harbour

"Look I can help you. You say you're having memory flashes right? Visions and things that don't make sense. I've seen it happen plenty of times before. Alot of Synths go through the same thing when they first 'come to' and realize what they are.”

Assuming he’s telling the truth good to know it’s an “common” thing to happen

“So you know why does this happen?” James asked

“Sometimes the memory wipe doesn't take or the memory programming is faulty. If you know who The Railroad are, then you know we're dedicated to helping Synths. Just put down the weapons, and let’s talk man to man. Huh? No need for this to get ugly...I can help you."

and why would I do that?

“We can talk perfectly fine like this.” James said as he gently pushed (so not to cut... just yet) the combat knife against Bishop Throat “think of it as an extra execrative to tell the truth.”

“Now what exactly can you do to help me?”

James Gregor Castner- Mariner's Shack

"Nothing I can't handle,". And with that, the doctor went to work. For a few hours his cuts were dressed, and he received a splint. The medical equipment seemed well worn, but still very effective.

"There, I think that'll do it," Teddy said with a sigh as he packed up his supplies and snapped his bag shut, "No charge this time, on account of the not-so-warm welcome you received coming into town. Let me know if you need anything else, my little clinic is in the back of the Bait Shop, can't miss it."
“Thank you, I appreciate your hospitality. I’ll stop by if I need anything”, he replied earnestly.

The doctor left the shack and Longfellow entered. He sat down, pulled out a flask, and poured two shots. Whiskey by the smell of it. He gladly accepted one of the shots.

"So," Longfellow said, setting his gun aside, but still within easy reach, "Doc said you don't have any signs of long-term radiation exposure or of having been in the Fog for very long. Which I guess pretty well clears you of being a cultist. That still don't explain much about what you were doing out there though. Mind filling in the blanks?"

He sighed and sipped half the whiskey. He knew he was supposed to keep his true origin a secret, but he wanted to be honest. Was he really a part of the Brotherhood anymore though? Did he owe them anything? Well, he owed them everything. Even if the last few years had been hard. Even after what they did to Colleen… Stop. Can’t think about her now. The wreckage of the vertibird could help Far Harbor, he could retrieve his heavy duty gear, and there was the chance the Brotherhood might send another squad. The town needed to be ready.

After a pause, James replied “Have you ever heard of the Brotherhood of Steel?”

Steve Miller - The Hull

Corrine responded to Steve's gesture by moving closer, much to his relief. It had been nearly two months since he had seen a woman, much less touched one....he had to be careful not to overreach.

"So," Corrine said, "if you're from the mainland -- like a desert, you said? How did you ever end up as a sailor?"

"Not all of it is a desert", Steve replied, "But the Reds pasted Washington but good with dirty bombs....not much grows there even today. Radiation was so bad that aside from Megaton, hardly anyone lived there until about sixty years ago. Well, except the ghoul Chinese commandos, that is."

"Remember when I mentioned Rivet City", Steve continued, "the old Warship beached at the Navy Yard? My dad was from there, and growing up while Dad was running caravan routes I helped gramps and his work gang keep the power and ventilation running on that old heap. Learned a lot about how to fix equipment on ships from him. After gramps died from the Red Lung, dad took me out on the caravan routes with him...I took care of the brahmin. Those were some good times....until the Enclave War."

"The Enclave", Steve continued, remembering things he would rather not, "Were a group of assholes who claimed to be the descendants of the Pre-War government. Tribals with pwer armor, fancy weapons and aircraft, in reality. They made a play to take over the whole Capital Wasteland, killing anyone who got in thier way. Rumor has it they were sending death squads out just to kill Wastelanders, but I never saw that myself. If it weren't for the Brotherhood, they probably would have gotten what they wanted, whatever hat really was. They fought for weeks...until the Brotherhood built or found some giant robot and beat the hell out of them with it. Well, we were making a run, running a load to Hagerstown from Junktown....they called it Baltimore in the old days before it took a direct hit from a big one...past the edge of the Fort Detrik rad zone, and our little caravan got caught in the crossfire of one of their battles. Lost Dad there, and most of the caravan, too. The Boss lost it all, and had to fold so I was out of a job. There was nothing for me in the Capital Wasteland anymore....unless I wanted to join the brotherhood and be cannon fodder for thier war...so I went back to Junktown and signed onto the first steamer that was willing to give me a chance. I can weld, am a pretty good machinist, and knew my way around an engine room so work was easy to come by once I got established. Been working as an engineer on ships from Halifax to C-Town ever since."

"What about you, Corrine?", Steve asked. "What's your story?"

Bishop - The Docks

“We can talk perfectly fine like this.” James said as he gently pushed (so not to cut... just yet) the combat knife against Bishop Throat “think of it as an extra execrative to tell the truth.”

"The longer you stand here with a knife to my throat, the more likely it is someone will see us," Bishop said matter-of-factly, "And I don't want to draw the attention of the locals any more than you do I'm sure. So its in both our interests if you lower the knife. Keep it handy if you want I'm not going to try anything. You got the drop on me...but just lower it so we can talk. Okay?"

“Now what exactly can you do to help me?”

"If you are what I think you are. Then you're a Synth whose likely going through memory relapse. That might be hard to hear, but its the truth. And if that's the case there's a couple possibilities. Either you're one of our former escapees, and your memory wipe is starting to wear off...in which case I can help with that. Or you're an Institute Synth that is malfunctioning. And if The Institute learns you're malfunctioning...then a Courser isn't far behind. And you don't want one of those on your trail...or in this town for that matter. Trust me."

"Me and my partner can give you shelter, supplies and try to get your memory problems under control so you stop having the flashes and visions. Then, when we leave for The Commonwealth, we can take you to a safehouse and get you to safety. That's my offer."

Old Longfellow - The Mariner's Shack

After a pause, James replied “Have you ever heard of the Brotherhood of Steel?”

"Brotherhood of what-now?" Longfellow chuckled. His laughs gradually morphed into a fit of coughing after which he regained himself and stared back up at the newcomer,

"No stranger I ain't heard of a Brotherhood of Steel, or the Brotherhood of Iron or Wood. Or any other construction material for that matter. Sounds like mainlainder bullshit if you ask me," Longfellow took another swig from his flask. Despite his joke, he could tell that the man was serious however. And so he sighed, tucked his flask away, and started back at James with a curious look,

"Alright stranger I'll bite. Just what is 'The Brotherhood of Steel'?"

James Williams-Far Harbour

"Me and my partner can give you shelter, supplies and try to get your memory problems under control so you stop having the flashes and visions. Then, when we leave for The Commonwealth, we can take you to a safehouse and get you to safety. That's my offer."

“Interesting offer but here’s my counter offer.” James replied harshly pulled on the combat knife across Bishop throat, silting it in the process.

“Funny should mention ERRROR CODE 01001110 01101111 00100000 01110011 01110000 01101111 01101001 01101100 01100101 01110010 01110011 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01110111 01101001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01110111 01100001 01101001 01110100 00100000 01110101 01101110 01110100 01101001 01101100 00100000 01101100 01100001 01110100 01100101 01110010 00100001 MEMORY FILE MISSING ABG-F11

“Plus I don’t exactly trust you.” James stated as he took Bishop’s shotgun “but with your mysterious death by the courser I should be able to get rosey to loosen her tongue about your railroad base.”

“But that’s enough story time, your dead.” James joked to himself as he pushed the dead or soon to dead Bishop over the barrier and into the foggy Far Harbour sea. Lighting up a Cigarette He watched as the Ocean slowly claimed another victim...

Much easier than burning them.

As he watched the ocean slowly drag the body way James noticed there were several seemlying broken but floating and thus seemlying fixable boats scattered around the dock. Perhaps a small team could use one of those boats to
reach the other side of the island and see what was going on with the atom people

Maybe scavenge per-world war 3 places for supplies too...

Hiding the shotgun behind some barrels James made his way back up to the front of the deck and looked around for Old Longfella who he discovered talking to the old git who been paraded through town earlier but had since then found some clothes to put on.

"Alright stranger I'll bite. Just what is 'The Brotherhood of Steel'?"

“A gang of Raiders LARPing as medieval knights.” James chuckled

“Sorry to interrupt your conversation Mr Longfella but I wanted to know who owns those boats out by the docks? I was thinking perhaps we could fix one up and then go and get some info on the atom fruitcakes.... perhaps find out what’s going on with them”

CORRINE DOOLAK -- The Hull, Far Harbor

A tribe called the Enclave. Another one called the Brotherhood of Steel. Giant robots. If not for his mention of caravans, Corrine would have started to deeply regret acting so impulsively on her infatuation with the younger man, thinking he were describing a completely other planet.

There was a war on the mainland? Wonder how news of that never got up here.

Eh. Everywhere's got problems, I suppose.

She listened politely, even intently, as he described his entire life's story. It hit her quite solidly, then, that he was quite a bit younger than she -- but if he wasn't bothered, then she sure as hell was fine with it, too. She was particularly interested once he began describing his post in the engine room and his mechanical know-how. Perhaps they had more in common than she had thought.

"What about you, Corrine?", Steve asked. "What's your story?"

"Mm. Well," she began, leaning her head against his chest, watching a rabbit scurry out from beneath some rubble, across the road, and disappear into a blanket of fog, "originally, me an' my family had a homestead much farther east of here. It'd been in the family for a long time, either my mom's dad's grandpa's uncle's, or..." She blushed, realizing how much of a bumpkin it must have made her sound. "At any rate, there was me, and then my brother. Mom and dad set up a great little business, scrapping all sorts of things they'd pull out of ruins, or cars, or what have you. I've been dismantling tech since I could hold a screwdriver. I had a real knack for it, for some reason. I could get all the small, fragile parts out, and when my dad figured out that's what always took me so long, he brought me on to help him full time and my mom worked the business full time."

Corrine paused, lost in thought and nostalgia. "Things were working out pretty well for us. Word got out, people started coming to us to certain parts or to make requests. Commissioned scavengers, can you believe it? We traded with anyone who had caps and needed parts. I started even doing my own freelance, though I still helped the business, an' had my own place, too. But about ten years ago, when the fog was startin' to get bad, dad got torn apart by an angler. Mom couldn't stand the idea of keeping the business, and my brother went and found himself some work as a fisherman. A year or so after that, mom tossed herself into the sea." She shrugged, sadly.

Waves broke along the shore, far below.

"But, I missed my manners. I'm sorry for your loss, of yer dad, and yer ship, both." In what she would have considered a bold move at other times of her life, she reached her arms around his waist and hugged him.

"A mechanic is more than handy to have around. I bet you'd find a lot of work in these parts, helpin' to repair boats and generators and the like. Hell," she winked, in a very rusty attempt to flirt, "if you wanted a challenge, I'd let ya try and put something back together after I've taken it apart. See how good ya really are. I'd even let you borrow my tools."

OOC: Rolled a 4. The murder goes undetected for now.

Bishop's body slips beneath the water. The splash muffled under the roar of the lapping waves. James was fortunate for the thick fog and relatively deserted area of the dock to have no immediate witnesses to the crime. He manages to creep away from the scene undetected.

-1-2 Hours later-

The body does not however, completely disappear. With nothing to weigh it down, the incoming waves of the ocean inevitably bring Bishop's corpse back to shore. It bobs up and down with the tide and eventually ends up at the boat docks. A lonely fisherman spots the dead man floating and calls back to the Harbor,

"Oi! Man in the water!"

Quickly, the fisherman pulls the body to shore and shakes his head sadly as he looks for any sign of life. Doctor Teddy Wright is called for and rushes to the scene with a small crowd who heard the Fisherman's shout and he examines the dead man closely.

"Aye, looks like he fell from aloft and drowned Doc," The Fisherman says in a thick northern accent, "Poor fella."

The Doctor ignores the man and continues his examination. A cold horror grips him when he makes a grim realization.

"I need everyone to stand back," He says calmly but firmly, "I said stand back!" he repeats more loudly this time. He contemplates who he should tell about this, and two immediately come to mind,

"Somebody send for Longfellow and Corrine!" He says again, "Tell them its urgent. And keep everyone else back! You hear me?"

Several Harbormen and women nod their heads in understanding and one of them rushes off to find Corrine and Longfellow. The others stand guard and keep the townsfolk and anyone else confined to the town for the moment. Keeping them all beyond the small doorway that leads to the boat dock area.

Steve Miller - The Hull

"But, I missed my manners. I'm sorry for your loss, of yer dad, and yer ship, both." she said as reached her arms around his waist and hugged him, a pleasant suprise.

"And I for yours", Steve said, as he returned her gesture with the arm he had around her waist. Losing their family was one thing they had in common, though Steve thought it impolitic to mention it....to easy to come out the wrong way. It was certainly interesting to know how their liveliehoods complemented each other....there were plenty of things that couldn't be fabricated on a drill press or lathe, people in his line of work needed scavvers...or prospectors as they occasionally called them in Halifax...to recover them from other, ususally broken, devices.

"A mechanic is more than handy to have around.", Corrine continued, "I bet you'd find a lot of work in these parts, helpin' to repair boats and generators and the like. She then lifted her head from his chest and looked right at him. "Hell," she said as she winked, "if you wanted a challenge, I'd let ya try and put something back together after I've taken it apart. See how good ya really are. I'd even let you borrow my tools."

Something about the way Corrine was looking at him....or maybe it was the inflection of her voice, suggested to Steve there might be more than one meaning to her proposal. Whether that was true or not, it was becoming clear that his luck was finally changing for the better.

"You're on", Steve said with a grin as he hugged her waist again, "What did you have in mind?"

CORRINE DOOLAK -- The Hull, Far Harbor

"You're on", Steve grinned with another hug, "What did you have in mind?"

If he isn't the most handsome thing I've seen in a very long time...

"Come on," she prompted, breaking from their embrace but taking his hand in hers, leading them back down the way they came. They crossed the cobbles to enter what had been Allen Lee's gun shop. "The original proprietor of this shop was killed a little while ago," she began. "He was as loud and stubborn as any harborfolk, but he let me lock my tools up here and use his workbench anytime." Corrine smiled. "I'm sure the fact I voluntarily scrapped any weapon he wanted done helped to pay my 'rent.'"

She knelt and pulled a key out from a pant pocket to unlock the metal case and open the lid. An array of tools sat neatly arranged by type, from pliers, to screwdrivers, wrenches, and more. The majority were small and meant for fine components, but she had other, general use sized items as well. They were aged and carried a patina of usage and time, but not a single speck of rust. Her composure softened at the sight of them. It was like coming home.

"Now, where was that..." she murmured to herself, standing on her tip-toes and picking through a veritable shelf of junk, her back to Steve and the rest of the room. "Ah, there we are!" Corrine reached up with both hands and pulled down a small crate full of screws, circuitry, and plastic housing. "Took this one apart a week ago or so. All the pieces are still there, I think," she trailed off, swirling the contents with her finger. "Hm. Looks like it. Anyway, for yer first challenge I'll even give you a hint: it was some sort of pre-war kitchen doodad with a motor." She smiled and held the crate out to him. "Have at it, sailor."

Steve Miller - The Hull

"Come on," Corrine said as she jumped to her feed, taking Steve's hand and leading him back off the Hull and into town, then into one of the shuttered businesses along the boardwalk. The rifles chained up in a rack on the wall, the ammo cans, and the workbench suggested it was a gun shop.

"The original proprietor of this shop was killed a little while ago," Corrine said as she flipped on a light. "He was as loud and stubborn as any harborfolk, but he let me lock my tools up here and use his workbench anytime." Corrine smiled, then added. "I'm sure the fact I voluntarily scrapped any weapon he wanted done helped to pay my 'rent.'"

She then kneeled before a tool box and produced a key, unlocking it then opening the top cover, revealing a set of well maintained tools. She then got up and approached a shelf nearby.

"Now, where was that..." she murmured to herself, standing on her tip-toes and rummaging through the jumble of items on the shelf, her back to Steve and the rest of the room. Corrine's stance gave him a better view of her figure than he had had previously, he noticed she had a nice behind...which boded well for her legs, and he was a leg man.

"Ah, there we are!" Corrine said triumphantly as she reached up with both hands and pulled down a small crate, examining the contents quickly then looking back up at him. "Took this one apart a week ago or so. All the pieces are still there, I think," she trailed off, swirling the contents with her finger. "Hm. Looks like it. Anyway, for yer first challenge I'll even give you a hint: it was some sort of pre-war kitchen doodad with a motor." She smiled and thrust the crate out at him. "Have at it, sailor."

Steve accepted the box, finding in side it the pieces of what appeared to be a disassembled kitchen appliance of some sort. There was a plastic casing consisting of several pieces, a couple of circuit boards, and some wiring. In a small clear plastic container were a number of small screws. Steve placed the crate on the workbench, then flipped on the light above it. He then took each part out and arranged them in a row on the bench then examined them.

The casing was marked "Radiation King" and "Atomic Mixmaster 2000". The controls were a row of four push buttons, marked on the casing as "OFF", then 1, 2, and 3. One of the circuit boards, fortunately not broken down further, had the four buttons. Another contained a electric motor that turned some sort of assembly that apparently turned something that would be plugged into the top of the casing that was not present. As near as he could tell, it was some sort of food processing machine...now that he thought of it he remembered a bar in Halifax that had a similar machine they used to mix iced drinks. A blender, they called it? Steve grunted then focused on the task at hand. The third board seemed to be the power supply...but rather than AC power, it was powered by a battery....Steve suspected a Multi-Fusion Cell by the size of the connectors. Looking through Corrine's tools, he found an analog multimeter...it had a small "US Property" plate on the back, below it someone had written "SSBN-859" and "E-DIV #2" long ago in a indelible marker of some sort...in the bottom of the tool box. As it was carefully protected in a handmade wooden case, Corrine, or perhaps her late parents, obviously knew it's value....Steve guessed about 500 caps to someone who knew what it was. Odd thing to find here with those markings, though...looked like the hull number of a warship of some kind...Steve filed a mental note to ask her later where she had gotten it. Deploying the multimeter, he tested the circuits and found he was correct. The power supply board stepped down a voltage consistent with a MFC to the far lower requirements of the electric motor, though 2000 watts seemed excessive for a kitchen appliance this size to him.

Now understanding how it was powered, the next order of business was to put it back together again. after about ten minutes of trial and error, he believed he had it figured out. Retrieving a set of small screwdrivers from Corrine's tool chest, he began to carefully put it back together. After a few false starts, he had the ancient machine re-assembled. The ammo boxes were all locked, so he rummaged around Corrine's shelf, and found a MFC cell that still had a charge. He popped it inside, then installed the battery cover and secured it with the last screw. He then placed the now assembled machine on the bench with a flourish, pushing the button marked "1", and the device whirred to life. He then realized he had been so absorbed in what he was doing that he had forgotten all about Corrine.

"if you can find a container to complete it", Steve said sheepishly, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the whine of the blender, "Mitch would probably pay you a pretty penny for it once you show him what it does. With the power it's rated for, it should be able to crush ice or grind up just about any kind of meat or produce."

"So, Corrine", Steve said with a wink as he pushed the off button, shutting the device down, "What do I win?"