[h1][color=00a651]The UNITY[/color][/h1]

[b][color=00a651]The Behemoth Lord[/color][/b]

Braxton stood watching atop a hill watching the marching host before him. The army of The Behemoth Lord was on the move, carving a path of destruction through Midwestern lands - chasing after fleeing Midwestern civilians and soldiers alike in the wake of Cincinnati's fall. The former Brotherhood Knight turned Chosen no longer felt any kinship towards the humans that he was once sworn to protect. His memory was clouded and muddied, and although he retained some scant knowledge of his former life as a human, most of it was completely consumed by some unknowable presence which wormed his way into his thoughts like some great serpent. It was always there, never dominating or all-consuming, but always present never-the-less. 

UNITY. UNITY. UNITY. It would chant endlessly. 

There was no point in attempting to block it out, and indeed by this point Braxton welcomed the intrusion as a form of liberation. He was no longer alone - no longer an individual - but a part of a greater whole. 

He would serve The Unity, from now until the end of his immortal life. 

Braxton turned his head to see the great form of the Behemoth Lord striding into view, pushing aside trees as it made its way through a dense forest like it was passing through nothing more than tall grass. The massive hulking form of the behemoth warlord was awe inspiring. Old heavy car parts and pieces of metal roofing had been crudely crushed and shaped into armor around the Behemoth’s form, and in his left hand he wielded an uprooted power line that was studded with rebar stakes like some sort of large spiked bat. Behind him marched his own personal guard of four behemoths that were just as large as he, though not nearly as intelligent as their leader. 

Braxton bowed before the giant mutant commander, waiting with some trepidation as to what the creature's next command would be. Braxton knew better than to speak first, he’d seen the Behemoth Lord smash mutants that displeased it into pulp with a single swing of its fist for no other reason than the whim struck him.

“Send. Scouts.” The Behemoth Lord  said finally, its voice deep and hollow, “Find the enemy. We kill. For Unity.”

“Yes Lord, I’ll lead them myself,” Braxton nodded eagerly, “We will find them.”

[b][color=00a651]The Ghoul Eater[/color][/b]

The rising brackish waters of Lake Michigan lapped at Zant’s feet. The pale-green mutant stood like some freakish totem, covered in bones and the shriveled heads of decapitated ghouls. His stomach was delightfully full, he and his gruesome host having feasted on the scattered inhabitants of Mantiwoc for the better part of a week. His forces' denial at both Chicago and then Milwaukee had been bitter, and so they’d taken their frustrations out on the isolated port town. 

The fact that the poor fisherman and tradespeople of the ruined town had nothing to do with the Midwestern Brotherhood or its military ploys had mattered little. They were all human, all meat - so they’d been dealt an appropriate, collective, punishment. 

Now Zant, The Ghoul Eater, turned his gaze lakeward. Beyond the great waters before him lay the unspoiled port towns along the coasts of the Great Lakes, along with the promise of the wealthy trade cities of Ronto and Luth. He had no use for their money of course - but their flesh would do quite nicely. Some to be dipped, some to be roasted - but all destined to feed his army one way or another. 

Zant turned to the makeshift ships hap-hazardly assembled by the mutant host. Calling them “ships” would be generous indeed, they were more like floating heaps of scrap, but that wouldn’t matter as long as the mutant host managed to make it across the water. His army had heavy weapons aplenty and miniguns and missile launchers made for effective weapons on the sea just as well as on land. If they encountered any Luth merchant ships or otherwise, the floating hulks would only need to get them in range: nothing more. 

Seizing the Great Lakes region would be an immense victory for The Unity if it could be accomplished. It would cut off trade and communication between the lake nations and the world beyond, and most of all the valuable supply of raw ore to the forges of The Pitt. According to The Master’s integrated connections to the Vault Tec Network, there was also at least one large unspoiled Vault in the region of northern Michigan: a large new source of prime normals that could not be ignored. 

 The Master had commanded Zant to take this region, and he would accomplish its will. 

“We are ready,” one of his mutant commanders said suddenly, walking up to him with a large complement of 1st Generation mutants. 

“Each of you take a vessel,” Zant ordered, “Attack any ship in your path…seize what you can, send any prime specimens to the Great Procreator - eat the rest.”


[color=9e0b0f][h1]The Pitt[/h1][/color]

[b][color=9e0b0f]Vikia[/color][/b]


Vikia eyed the lumbering mutant in the cross-hairs of her scope as it strode through the undergrowth . The dim-witted creature wasn't as stealthy as it thought it was, and it was almost comical watching the mutant plodding alongside a group of ghoul slaves-soldiers hunched over and creeping like it actually thought it couldn't be seen. She almost had some pity for what was about to happen to it - [i]almost[/i]. 

Vikia let out a deep breath slowly, and felt her finger lightly squeeze the trigger. A shot from her .308 sniper rang out before a bullet tore through the mutants skull - taking part of its brain with it. The creature immediately collapsed and before the accompanying ghoul soldiers could even react to their slave-master and commander's untimely end, infiltrator shots followed up in quick succession from Vikia's hidden scouts, tearing through their ranks. In a matter of seconds it was over, and the entire patrol was wiped out. A few of the scouts made their way over to the clearing with rifles raised to ensure that the job was finished, and to loot whatever valuable intel the patrol happened to have on them. Rarely did they find anything worth their trouble though.

"Like shooting fish in a barrel..." one of Vikia's scouts, a gruff heavily mutated raider named Zachariah whistled as he reloaded his infiltrator with a fresh magazine. He and a small group of his kin had been made their way north to the Pitt from a place called 'Point Lookout' far to the south. The people there all apparently shared his mutations to one degree or another. Despite their appearance, they were all good fighters and unparalleled experts at living off the land making them natural scouts - their inclinations towards cannibalism not-with-standing. 

"Its too fucking easy," Vikia growled as she looked up from where she was laying and surveyed the area, "These bumbling idiots can't be their vanguard. How dumb are these mutants?"

"Well whatever they is, if they keep sending em' we'll keep making mincemeat out of them, "Zachariah replied with a toothy grin. 

"Something's not right..." Vikia continued, tightening her grip on her rifle. Her gut instinct was screaming that this situation was all wrong. She'd learned to listen to that gut feeling over the years, and it was the only reason she was still alive now. 

As if in answer, Vikia suddenly heard shouts followed by several explosions from the area where the mutants had been downed. All she saw was smoke and fire in that direction, and immediately she knew what must have happened. They hadn't been any kind of vanguard at all, but walking bombs - their bodies had been booby-trapped with mines. They were nothing more than fodder. 

Then Vikia heard the sound of a stealth field de-materializing, and her heart froze.

Vikia whipped around only to see a hulking blue mutant wildly swinging a two-handed bumper-sword towards her. She rolled away just in time to watch it slice its way into the ground before the mutant swiftly pulled it up and swung it again in an upwards strike. Another of Vikia's scouts was caught by the blade, and the raider did even have time to scream before he was sliced in half sending blood spraying all over her. 

Zachariah, to his credit, reacted without hesitation raising up his infiltrator rifle and firing several shots at the mutant assassin. The unarmored mutant suddenly staggered back, only to immediately take more bullets from the surrounding raiders and collapsing to the ground. 

To Vikia's horror, the creature was still alive though -and it reached for its blade once again in some vain attempt to get back up and fulfill its mission. Zachariah quickly ended that though, drawing forth a finely sharpened wood-axe and burying it in the Nightkin's skull. 

"Holy shit..." Vikia muttered in shock, wiping blood from her face, "We didn't even hear that thing at all until it deactivated its stealth boy..."

"That thing came her for one reason and one reason only," Zachariah remarked with a grunt as he pulled his now bloodied axe out from the mutant's forehead and pointed it at Vikia, "To take that pretty little head of yours clean off Ms. Viky. I don't think they be as dumb as you think."