Andreyich

Battle of the Nations

The Dusmane were strangers in a strange land. They were objects of curiosity, everything from their dress to their physical appearance to their language being alien to the rest of the allied army, and they more or less felt the same. Until this war, the vast majority of the nomads had never left their native steppe and likewise nobody visited it. Though the outside world was alien to him, the Khan of the Dusmane answered the call to arms of the parent Empire he was bound to and sent a formidable if outdated force under the command of one of his cousins.

For most of the war they were almost entirely dedicated to harassing logistics of the foe as well as destroying both reinforcements and running down retreats with no mercy given. They knew the enemy saw them as savages so they capitalized upon this. Helmeted heads of cuirassiers dangled from their horses, while the well-hatted faces of officers were pierced with hunting spears so that many an enemy’s last sight would be the death mask of their comrade. But as ever they reached into the enemy’s heartland their assignments morphed from those of a guerilla campaign into those of this century’s uniformed cavalry. It was hard for them to adapt, but they did and they became stronger for it.

Personally, Iouldouz found himself to slowly morph into one of the pale people. So much time with them gave him a taste for their spirits rather than the kumis he spent his life drinking, and he could not deny their dress wasn’t as uncomfortable as many of his kinsmen claimed. But he was still in his heart a Dusmane and he’d lead his people to glory today under their stretched hide banner. He ordered his men to make merry, to drink and laugh and sing and dance for today may well be the last day they could do so. The Khan had heard of the Emperor’s unparalleled tactical acumen and Iouldouz would be a liar if he said he wasn’t frightened of that day to come. This day would be perhaps the first where the Emperor was truly beaten in open battle; all prior victories against him were pyrrhic and often strategic defeats, or were not done in open battle and rather in guerilla campaigns as the Dusmane had mastered.

After uttering a prayer to Father Sky and taking a sip of the foreign firewater, Iouldouz entered the command tent. He was dressed in traditional furs of his folk, though as a courtesy to the foreigners he wrapped them in a way reminiscent to that which they wore them, along with a neckerchief, perfume, and a few other accessories common to them. His right hand man Tyrgutai made no such concessions, in fact making himself as wild as possible in sight, sound and smell (partially out of spite for the poncey bastards). Still more used to sitting upon rugs on the ground, Iouldouz nevertheless took a seat rather graciously after bowing, waiting for the other members of the alliance to arrive. The warrior had some general ideas for strategy, though they all were grounded in the assumption that his comrades were bold and risk taking fellows which - as far as he saw - they had to be if they had any hope of beating the enemy. After all, everyone who had tried beating the Emperor conventionally had failed. Thus it came upon the men assembled to beat them in an unorthodox manner, and the presence of the Chieftain was a posteriori proof.

The Division | Mao Mao & Andreyich

PENNSYLVANIA PLAZA // JAMES FARLEY POST OFFICE

In the tunnel Badger was fairly relaxed, for with a flashlight on him the threat of ambushes was minimal and it was simply a relaxing walk. But the moment the light of day struck the man he became tense, alert. This was the modern day Vietnam or Afghanistan; you were surrounded by civilians but just because they didn't wear uniforms that didn't mean they were non-combatants. To make it worse, the power tripping fucks of the police were now just another gang. Except this gang had experience shooting, and they carried high end weapons rather than zip-guns of all sorts. The people enjoying some fresh air entertainment? Those could easily have been snipers ready to end either agent's life from afar.

The caution about his surroundings seemed to prove itself to be well founded only moments later when the sounds of gunfire broke out. From the sheer amount of it, he decided it was wise to flick the select-fire of his rifle to full auto. The enemy came into view quickly and by God there were a lot of them. They had helmets, vests and automatic carbines. But they had the misfortune in context of being law enforcement, which would mean that while their helmets and vests would be rated for pistols, they weren't rated for rifle rounds and thus both 5,56 and 5,7 would easily chew through the false sense of security their soldier-boy outfits might give them.

Running for cover Badger didn't make a noise. But Firefly said that they had to get their attention, which made the man groan faintly. He would have preferred to use the fact they were in a good position to crossfire to wipe out these traitors in one go, but he supposed this time a more humanitarian approach was technically more important.

Thus, he stood up with his ballistic shield and assault rifle, spraying his entire magazine towards the cops to suppress them and catch their attention. With that he dropped the weapon, getting his entire body behind the shield. He knew some less experienced or simply more gung-ho agents tried to shoot with a pistol while holding one but Badger considered them stupid. What was the point of a shield if you were going to nevertheless expose a chunk of yourself so visibly to overwhelming firepower? Thus instead he approached the foe calmly, making sure his entire body was always behind the shield, ready to throw a sticky bomb come the moment he was close enough to do so accurately.

The enemy was of course moving in to outflank him, they weren't stupid enough to just waste ammo trying to break the shield with volume of fire. But the Agent hoped his action would be enough to catch the attention of the renegades just long enough for Firefly and the other JTF warriors to either reposition and mount a counterattack or to at the very least evacuate.

Battle of the Nations

Its fine my man

I'll be posting tomorrow, if folks couldn't guess my guys are loosely based off of Tatar and Bashkir horsemen from the Russian Empire during the Napoleonic wars usually using bows and hunting lances

Battle of the Nations

Name: Iouldouz Edicoglu Khan
Physical: Though slightly shorter than the average man Iouldouz is nonetheless an intimidating man. Appearing to be somewhere in his thirties he has short cropped black hair with thin mustache and beard. His skin is the shade given by those born pale but nevertheless oft in the sun, while his green-brown eyes have a slight epicanthic fold. His nose if small but flared, while his chin and cheekbones are regally strong. Iouldouz has put some weight on since his true youth with a somewhat noticeable beer belly, though he is still in generally good shape.
Description: Though Iouldouz has no adoration for the Empire he fights for, an oath of loyalty is an oath of loyalty and thus if he is going to go forth and fight he may as well bring as much glory to himself and his men as possible. He is very loyal to his own warriors and as a result is somewhat overly cautious with his troops when lance armed cavalry should instead be very aggressive. That said his tribal romanticism leads him to often be far too close to battle himself, a severe flaw in any battlefield but particularly in a modern one.
Nation: Dusmane Khanate
Regiments: The Dusmane auxiliaries don't follow a strict regimental structure. There are slightly less than 6,000 of them, the men bearing sturdy spears not quite the size of other nation's lances, steppe sabers and compound bows. Jacks of all trades but masters of none, they cannot match lancers, hussars, dragoons or cuirassiers in their own craft. However their flexibility lets them do a wide array of tasks, and so they will usually split into four groups each emulating one of the international standards for Cavalry Regiments in support of one another to allow for a quasi combined arms attack in a single unit.

Battle of the Nations

Name: Iouldouz Edicoglu Khan
Physical: Though slightly shorter than the average man Iouldouz is nonetheless an intimidating man. Appearing to be somewhere in his thirties he has short cropped black hair with thin mustache and beard. His skin is the shade given by those born pale but nevertheless oft in the sun, while his green-brown eyes have a slight epicanthic fold. His nose if small but flared, while his chin and cheekbones are regally strong. Iouldouz has put some weight on since his true youth with a somewhat noticeable beer belly, though he is still in generally good shape.
Description: Though Iouldouz has no adoration for the Empire he fights for, an oath of loyalty is an oath of loyalty and thus if he is going to go forth and fight he may as well bring as much glory to himself and his men as possible. He is very loyal to his own warriors and as a result is somewhat overly cautious with his troops when lance armed cavalry should instead be very aggressive. That said his tribal romanticism leads him to often be far too close to battle himself, a severe flaw in any battlefield but particularly in a modern one.
Nation: Dusmane Khanate
Regiments: The Dusmane auxiliaries don't follow a strict regimental structure. There are slightly less than 2,000 of them, the men bearing sturdy spears not quite the size of other nation's lances, steppe sabers and compound bows. Jacks of all trades but masters of none, they cannot match lancers, hussars, dragoons or cuirassiers in their own craft. However their flexibility lets them do a wide array of tasks, and so they will usually split into four groups each emulating one of the international standards for Cavalry Regiments in support of one another to allow for a quasi combined arms attack in a single unit.

Accentuate The Positive: A Fallout Roleplay

Fox

Oh mother tell your children,
Not to do what I have done....

Major Nathaniel A. Fox

His story as his comrades know it.

Born around the middle of the 23rd century Nathaniel Fox was in a fairly prestigious position, his family Brahmin ranchers that would ascend to become true Brahmin Barons with the passage of time.

His many siblings were given various roles in the family to help solidify the influence across the NCR, and as the youngest (and hence most disposable) they rather coldly assigned him to join the army. Though he loathed the condition under which they did so, he proudly became a soldier for the NCR.

However, his boyish dreams of the glory of soldiers wouldn’t be. His NCO was a corrupt man, and it didn’t take long for him to influence the teen. Though as his pay increased with his rises in rank, he couldn’t shift the habit in entirety and a visit with his family to celebrate the inauguration of President Kimball exacerbated this.

Swiftly rising through the ranks of the NCR army the man’s corruption grew from a small nuisance to truly harmful on the tactical scale to frontline units. But there was a small halt in this as he met a woman for himself as most men do. But he didn’t get a happily ever after, for after Hoover Dam’s battle he found her murdered by Legionnaires. This convinced him that in this world naught mattered but your own immediate prospects, and what positive influences she had on him disintegrated in seconds.

He served on as a viscous scoundrel defiling the very word Officer. He sold weapons, uniforms, food, and medicine all that could have saved many lives. His men were almost as if a private army, taking caps in exchange for a great amount of firepower being at the disposal of the highest bidder with the attack written off as “defence of Republican logistics.” But with the Second Battle of Hoover Dam Major Fox knew that his lucrative gig was over. He and those previously on board knew that the NCR held nothing for them with the great danger of accounting discovering what they were doing. So he assembled the men that he knew were of one kind with him, and loading up the best supplies they could get onto Brahmins turning their back on the Republic. Thus in independent new Vegas the mercenary corps known as the Blackjacks were officially formed. They were a mercenary concern that did any work you paid them for with more or less no scruples; they were more than happy to take in anyone with experience regardless of their background and took any job provided the caps were sufficient. At times they almost descended to being lowly raiders, preying on beggars and prostitutes in Freeside to sell as slaves elsewhere. But no matter what the Blackjacks were always distinguished by unparalleled professionalism, their tanned grey combat armour & uniforms, and snazzy tuned firearms accompanied by all sorts of tactical equipment. Their reputation would be mixed. Any town they showed up in they would spend a lot of money in. They always paid their tabs in full, helping old ladies carry produce and they would be generally courteous, never causing trouble to locals and indeed not asking any pay for particularly minor tasks like cutting up some molerats. At the same time rumour would spread that the Blackjacks do nasty things. Tales would spread of how they would hunt former Legion tribals not sparing women, children or elderly. They’d take hits from criminal enterprises upon people, and many a person could claim a tale of suffering to be the result of the Blackjacks’ work.

Hearing of the frontier opening up, Nathaniel saw a once in a lifetime opportunity. The market for mercenaries would be grand with all the trouble there, not to speak of the fact many tribals and settlers with military experience be it in the NCR, Brotherhood or Legion would be good hires for the Blackjacks. Perhaps on the frontier they could grow to the point of Nathaniel even being able to lead a peaceful life himself, managing the company from afar.

Accentuate The Positive: A Fallout Roleplay

@Starboard Watch For your viewing pleasure.

Fox

Oh mother tell your children,
Not to do what I have done....

Major Nathaniel A. Fox

His story as his comrades know it.

Born around the middle of the 23rd century Nathaniel Fox was in a fairly prestigious position, his family Brahmin ranchers that would ascend to become true Brahmin Barons with the passage of time.

His many siblings were given various roles in the family to help solidify the influence across the NCR, and as the youngest (and hence most disposable) they rather coldly assigned him to join the army. Though he loathed the condition under which they did so, he proudly became a soldier for the NCR.

However, his boyish dreams of the glory of soldiers wouldn’t be. His NCO was a corrupt man, and it didn’t take long for him to influence the teen. Though as his pay increased with his rises in rank, he couldn’t shift the habit in entirety and a visit with his family to celebrate the inauguration of President Kimball exacerbated this.

Swiftly rising through the ranks of the NCR army the man’s corruption grew from a small nuisance to truly harmful on the tactical scale to frontline units. But there was a small halt in this as he met a woman for himself as most men do. But he didn’t get a happily ever after, for after Hoover Dam’s battle he found her murdered by Legionnaires. This convinced him that in this world naught mattered but your own immediate prospects, and what positive influences she had on him disintegrated in seconds.

He served on as a viscous scoundrel defiling the very word Officer. He sold weapons, uniforms, food, and medicine all that could have saved many lives. His men were almost as if a private army, taking caps in exchange for a great amount of firepower being at the disposal of the highest bidder with the attack written off as “defence of Republican logistics.” But with the Second Battle of Hoover Dam Major Fox knew that his lucrative gig was over. He and those previously on board knew that the NCR held nothing for them with the great danger of accounting discovering what they were doing. So he assembled the men that he knew were of one kind with him, and loading up the best supplies they could get onto Brahmins turning their back on the Republic. Thus in independent new Vegas the mercenary corps known as the Blackjacks were officially formed. They were a mercenary concern that did any work you paid them for with more or less no scruples; they were more than happy to take in anyone with experience regardless of their background and took any job provided the caps were sufficient. At times they almost descended to being lowly raiders, preying on beggars and prostitutes in Freeside to sell as slaves elsewhere. But no matter what the Blackjacks were always distinguished by unparalleled professionalism, their tanned grey combat armour & uniforms, and snazzy tuned firearms accompanied by all sorts of tactical equipment. Their reputation would be mixed. Any town they showed up in they would spend a lot of money in. They always paid their tabs in full, helping old ladies carry produce and they would be generally courteous, never causing trouble to locals and indeed not asking any pay for particularly minor tasks like cutting up some molerats. At the same time rumour would spread that the Blackjacks do nasty things. Tales would spread of how they would hunt former Legion tribals not sparing women, children or elderly. They’d take hits from criminal enterprises upon people, and many a person could claim a tale of suffering to be the result of the Blackjacks’ work.

Hearing of the frontier opening up, Nathaniel saw a once in a lifetime opportunity. The market for mercenaries would be grand with all the trouble there, not to speak of the fact many tribals and settlers with military experience be it in the NCR, Brotherhood or Legion would be good hires for the Blackjacks. Perhaps on the frontier they could grow to the point of Nathaniel even being able to lead a peaceful life himself, managing the company from afar.

That which he wouldn't care to tell, and you shouldn't read unless you really have nothing better to do (no seriously this is long and a lot of unnecessary stuff)

[left]Born in the young 2250s to a family of fairly successful Brahmin ranchers, he was integrated in the soft luxury of proto Brahmin barons. He had education and nutrition many a wastelander would envy, and unbeknownst to his infant self he would come to have a name much of California would respect. Just a few years before his birth President Tandi had died, and with that a golden age had ended. But with her death opportunity was presented as her far weaker successor became the target of the bourgeoisie’s scheming. Just as little Nathaniel’s first words were uttered, the beginning of the NCR’s true prospects in the Mojave came with the new business-supported President Peterson.

While Nathan matured into a youth, his family sent off his numerous brothers and sisters to integrate into all of the NCR's power structures; from finding work in the Crimson Caravan and the Gun Runners to studying with the Followers or even getting positions in the banks of the NCR. The Fox family had to do this out of necessity, for without great networking they would be relegated to being lesser barons and possibly even having to fall in line with those far more wealthy at the onset of the loosening business restrictions. As the youth transitioned to a young man, the fact he was the youngest child of his parents made him the one with the least to give, and the most disposable. Thus, his parents rather coldly pushed him into a military career, even suggesting he lie about his age to get started earlier. Though initially he did this gladly, the realization that they were indulging his boyish dreams of heroism just to use him as a tool came quickly, and began the slow process of bittering a happy boy into a hollow bastard.

Young Nathaniel tried his best to cut his ties with his family, wanting to make his own way up the ranks starting as a simple private. Though they cut off his finances as punishment for his insolence, the Fox clan nevertheless used their influence to give the boy considerable privileges during hks service be it more comfortable deployments to a nudge sent by mail to commanding officers to consider him for a promotion or medal.

As great supporters of the military industrial complex and the president, his family was all too excited when once more true combat actions opened up, for the lad would get to say he participated in the campaign to pacify the Sierra Nevadas. As a result of his family's meddling he never did participate in any major assaults but his Sergeant Major ensured he got more than his fair share of violence. Sergeant Major Doyle was a corrupt man, and perhaps one of the most pivotal influences to moulding the Major Fox of today. He took his little Privates for what he called detours in the patrols of already occupied territory. With the threat of being accused of some random crime by an officer, the enlisted Nathan was forced to harass locals and shake them down for whatever they had, and looting the corpses of any real opposition he came across. It disgusted him, but to preserve a semblance of sanity he soon became desensitized to it and saw it as just another duty. For his most honourable service Nathaniel became a Corporal.

Now higher in rank there was a tour of duty to be done in the Mojave, and while he had new officers he somehow couldn't shake off the habits Doyle had instilled in him; the easy life the man taught was all too enticing in the world of so much violence and suffering. So what he pilfered water bottles from the canteen? There was nothing wrong with taking the ring from a tribal woman, after all with a dead husband she wasn't using it anymore, not to speak of the fact they were raider folk! At most the soldier saw his actions as innocent, almost childish misdemeanours entirely oblivious to the slippery slope he was on. With looted supplies keeping him afloat the young soldier was alway far more prepared for anything than his straight arrow comrades, and in spite of his family weary of losing this asset he went forth to carve quite a name for himself in active combat. For his bravery and selflessness he was given a ribbon and the rank of Sergeant.

Following that a peace of sorts reigned, during which Nathaniel was nevertheless very busy. Over the three years of blissful ignorance regarding Caesar’s Legion the many patrols Nathaniel went upon along with increasing administrative duties got him to Sergeant Major, eventually ascending to Lieutenant just before General Kimball retired. As the Kimball was voted into presidency, Nathaniel received the first letter from his family for a considerable time asking him to attend a celebration of the new President’s inauguration just after his tour of duty would end. Curious, the fellow accepted it. Returning back to the core NCR he was surprised to see the power the Fox family had amassed along with the subsequent wealth. There was a considerable amount of jealousy over this, but the warrior’s pride prevented him from voicing this vile emotion. He drank, ate, and made merry there having more than enough time to make a show of reconciling with his family who were in turn glad to have a decorated serviceman in their ranks.

The three years of peace had the looting and pilfering of the soldier slowly diminish to nothing more than taking an excess sweetroll in the mess tent every so often and supplementing his equipment with that which was found in the wasteland. But seeing what was going on in the civilian life made all of the man’s gradual rehabilitation evaporate in but a day. But now he was a true officer and any corruption he could do was on a far greater scale. Rather than just a mere magazine or two he could make whole rifles disappear. At the beginning he merely worked with acquaintances in the Crimson Caravan and the Gun Runners, effectively selling them back their own merchandise on the down low. However, with the discovery of and occupation of Hoover Dam the Mojave was now a giant market, in which appropriated supplies could be sold in great number. Positioning himself in a rear echelon unit where logistics would regularly go through Nathaniel was able to sell anything from foodstuffs to armour to advanced munitions and the weapons that fired them. At the same time he was a cautious individual, he made sure he dipped into the supplies that went to elite and specialized units like Rangers, MPs and Heavy Troopers at a minimal level lest people with actual influence get angry at their poor logistics rather than mere Conscripts and lowly NCOs.

As war against the Brotherhood began, Nathaniel was to be frank scared shitless. He had previously seen power armour only once, and though he knew enough AP rounds would make short work of them they were nevertheless most frightening things he had no intention of going up against, even if defended by a line of the meatshields known as NCR conscripts.

Once more going to a rear echelon unit he only got a few weeks of the easy life. Indeed, this is where the corruption of the Officer started to significantly diversify. He started selling chems, alcohol and cigarettes to his own troops for a pretty penny. He ran an unlawful exchange of NCR dollars to bottlecaps and vice versa, and was at some point even approached by his friend in the Crimson Caravan to clear out a camp of raiders. Recording this action as one in the defence of NCR logistics, he had effectively hired himself and the men under his command to be mercenaries for corporate interests. It was all very easy money until a raid by the Brotherhood on the NCR supply lines came forth. Knights first opened fire with stealth boys before true power armoured Paladins came forth cutting down a good portion of the men under his command. The officer was fearful, but he had not come so far to die in a night raid with piss in his pants. Scarfing down all the chems in the medical tent with glugs of whiskey he rushed out barking orders to rally his men and return fire with the threat of a bullet to the skull of any man who run away; the fact if things started to go wrong he’d be the first to run was omitted from his speech.

Casualties were massive, but the Brotherhood warriors were routed. Bloodlust all over him along with slow calculations that the death Brotherhood troops were effectively walking paychecks. Still in his drug fuelled anger he ran down the fleeing foe, taking no prisoners with a bullet through the skull to those who raised their hands in surrender. It was on this fateful day that Nathaniel started to make friends for his venture. Enlisted men and conscripts alike who were found to be more eager to blast the brains out of the Brotherhood soldiers rather than taking them prisoners as expected were malleable to his influence, and while much of the equipment they had brought along was turned in the Lieutenant ordered some likely lads to bury some of the fancier toys left at the scenes and to mark the location with a rock for Nathan would have to get treatment for his wounds, and sell the parts later.

While recuperating from his wounds he received a commendation for the valiant defence of his post and met someone who - by no fault of her own - would eventually lead to the final downfall of Nathaniel’s last shreds of morality. It was a nurse at the camp the officer was sent to for recovery, and it was an archetypal story of a wounded soldier falling for his caretaker & vice versa. But yet, Nathaniel doesn’t even bother remembering her name anymore.

For her the man cleaned himself up shaving his thick stubble and quit all of his vices. He stopped pilfering that which would go on to honest soldiers and he stopped charging interest on cap-to-dollar exchanges, the only vaguely illicit venture remaining being taking his troops to attack particular targets after being paid by third parties (however even then he made sure it was only against Fiends and the likes who most certainly deserved it).

Ascending to Captain after his fourth tour of duty against the Brotherhood, the war against the power armoured bastards came to an end and attention was instead turned to the Legion, the man participating valiantly in the battle for Hoover Dam. Lucky to survive after a sniper hunted him, the man took leave following the battle to once more see his sweetheart only to find the lass dead. While the main battle was raging on Frumentarii had raided NCR rear echelons, cutting the throats of all they found.

Many men would have reacted with a frothing rage to follow, going on long vendettas against the Legion. Nathaniel took the discovery rather calmly, but now he saw no more reason to hide his festering villainy within. The world was clearly a vile place, and he no longer saw any reason to do better for it than it was doing for him and anyone else upon it.

Overnight his trading of what was meant for other returned to a state that was an order of magnitude greater than that which he had done before meeting the deceased nurse. He ordered his men to clear out squatters from abandoned building with deadly force, and even attacked independent caravans under cover of night if the pay was grand enough. Indeed he was even there at Bitter Springs to fire upon Great Khan civilians seeing them as naught more than target practice and walking caps; he silenced any would-be whistleblowers under his command with great threats he would be more than ready to act upon.

For the second battle of Hoover Dam Nathaniel had finally become a Major. With a considerable amount of men under his command he started to make connections that would be the predecessor of what would later be dubbed the Blackjacks. Men of a similar mind to the Major who were in good standing with him with which good work could be done. A whole plan was coordinated around the great profits to be made off of the second battle for Hoover Dam, but things did not go as planned. The courier showed up the NCR, and they had to evacuate. Everything collapsed for the Blakjacks, for once they returned to the NCR following the evacuation it was fairly likely their actions would be discovered. Even if they weren’t, it certainly wouldn’t be wise to continue them with the Mojave campaign over and a toxic political climate; even if they did, there wouldn’t be great profits.

The Major made a swift decision that they would desert. They packed up all the arms and armour they could onto brahmin and headed deeper into Vegas rather than back towards California, taking out any other NCR armed forces they came across to supplement the merchandise they already had.

Thus in independent new Vegas the Blackjacks were officially formed. They were a mercenary concern that did any work you paid them for with more or less no scruples; they were more than happy to take in anyone with experience regardless of their background and took any job provided the caps were sufficient. At times they almost descended to being lowly raiders, preying on beggars and prostitutes in Freeside to sell as slaves elsewhere. But no matter what the Blackjacks were always distinguished by unparalleled professionalism, their tanned grey combat armour & uniforms, and snazzy tuned firearms accompanied by all sorts of tactical equipment. Their reputation would be mixed. Any town they showed up in they would spend a lot of money in. They always paid their tabs in full, helping old ladies carry produce and they would be generally courteous, never causing trouble to locals and indeed not asking any pay for particularly minor tasks like cutting up some molerats. At the same time rumour would spread that the Blackjacks do nasty things. Tales would spread of how they would hunt former Legion tribals not sparing women, children or elderly. They’d take hits from criminal enterprises upon people, and many a person could claim a tale of suffering to be the result of the Blackjacks’ work.
Hearing of the frontier opening up, Nathaniel saw a once in a lifetime opportunity. The market for mercenaries would be grand with all the trouble there, not to speak of the fact many tribals and settlers with military experience be it in the NCR, Brotherhood or Legion would be good hires for the Blackjacks. Perhaps on the frontier they could grow to the point of Nathaniel even being able to lead a peaceful life himself, managing the company from afar.

Heroes of Might and Magic: Defying the Gravekeep

There were two opposing forces within the structure vying for the attention of the lad, but neither had accounted for the fact it was a teenager they were trying to entreat and both were very angered by the fact they were ignored. As Brandon ran off a blood curdling screech would emanate from the face in the blood puddle, whilst a more groan-like noise would come from the empty helmet, the noise not getting quieter as Brandon made it further and further down the tunnel to the outside.

Leaving the structure there would be a breath of fresh air brought by a cool breeze, but somehow it wouldn't be so invigorating as one might expect. There were clearly Knights in the locale but alas Brandon was too late to hail them; they were riding off with their own chatter and hoofbeats compounded with distance making any calls out to them unheard, giving a further sense of abandonment.

Out of the tunnel the very same helmet from before pursued the lad, and as rolling onwards it came to a stop by the boy's feet, tapping them gently. With no warning the tunnel and the mausoleum it contained collapsed. Turning around only a glimpse of the gothic structure could be taken in before its implosion, but when it was gone it returned to a rather suspicious state; it became a mound of dirt as if there was not just a place of death there moments ago. A low gust of wind blew, the noise from it deep and punctuated by leaves and other debris that it caught.

“Put it on.”; What a strange noise for the howl of wind to make!

The Division | Mao Mao & Andreyich

xd

Accentuate The Positive: A Fallout Roleplay

Tentative interest, thinking of possibly an NCR defector